Description
Oikawa stared at him, mouth downturned into a grimace and eyes glassy with the sheen of unrelenting exhaustion, and Iwaizumi swallowed down a sigh. The pudding long forgotten on the hospital tray as the steady, rhythmic beeping of Oikawa's heart monitor filled the room. "...I hate this hospital." Oikawa muttered, eyes tracings patterns into the maddeningly white ceiling tiles. Iwaizumi peaked an eye open, eyebrow raising at the sudden disruption to the quiet that had enveloped the room. "I know." "I hate.." Oikawa swallowed, lips pursing. "I hate my condition. I hate how I don't have the energy to walk. I hate how I have to take medicine everyday. I hate how I can't even eat pudding anymore." He stops, eyelashes fluttering uselessly against the tears that threaten to pool over. "I know." "I hate you." He gasps, and a few lone tears escape to mark paths of scorching heat down his cheeks. "I know." Iwaizumi mutters, placing a hand over the other's cold fist, and he can feel him shake at the weight of holding back his sobs. "I know." Or: Iwaizumi is a doctor and Oikawa is his patient. Maybe, their relationship can be more then that. Maybe it always has been.
Prologue
