Haikyuu One-Shots

Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader - Realization

Iwaizumi had never considered himself much of a feeler. He was far more of a thinker, relying on his instincts to tell him what was happening around him.

He'd known from the moment he saw you that you were cute.

He knew from the way you shut down Oikawa every time he tried to get your attention that he liked you.

He knew from the way you smiled at him that he wanted you to be his.

And he knew the first time he'd heard you call him by his first name that he was hopelessly in love with you.

Actually, that last one was a bit harder to figure out exactly. There had been a lot of things that had led to that realization. The way your hand felt in his own. The way you supported him at every game, or how you brought him his favorite tofu when he had a hard day. The list went on and on. But that first "Hajime" had sent a shiver up his spine and that was what he attributed it to.

You were his first love and he knew it with every fiber of his being.

But Iwaizumi also knew that volleyball was his life. Not in the way that someone like Bokuto did, because he had a passion for it. But in the way that he didn't see himself doing anything else. There was no other option as far as he was concerned.

By his third year, the scouts had started seeking him out to join the top programs in the country. But these offers meant he had to figure things out with you first.

You couldn't follow him on this adventure. And you both knew it. But you pushed him forward, telling him that this was what he'd always been working so hard for, and he deserved it.

Besides, this was what he wanted.

And so he had left, promising to keep in touch as much as he could. Not as your lover, but as your friend. That was all he could offer you then.

That had been almost two years ago.

Iwaizumi had finally gotten a chance to go home and he decided to take it. It was good for his spirit if he had a change of scenery every now and then.

And his fourth stop (after dropping off his stuff, getting some food, and then grabbing something from the local market) was your apartment.

He hadn't been around, but he'd kept up with some of his old friends and as far as they knew, you hadn't gone anywhere.

So he walked up to your door and knocked just like the last time he'd been there.

You opened your door and stared at him.

He cleared his throat, awkwardly holding out a bouquet to you. "Hi."

"Do you want to come in?" you asked. He nodded, stepping inside your apartment. You took the flowers over to the sink before turning back to him.

"I didn't know you were coming back."

"I wanted it to be a surprise." He cleared his throat. "I missed you, (Y/N)."

"You have a funny way of showing it, Iwaizumi."

His eyes widened slightly. After you started calling him Hajime, you only called him by his surname when you were mad at him.

"Are you...upset?"

"Am I upset?" you repeated. "You think you can just show up unannounced on my doorstep with flowers and act like everything's fine?"

"I told you when I left that it would be hard to get back. I thought you understood that."

You smiled thinly. "And when was the last time you got in touch with me?"

He scratched the back of his head.

"I understood that this was what you wanted when you left. I figured you would still make some time for me, even if we were only friends. I thought it would be temporary--"

"It is!" he insisted. "We'll be together when I come back."

"You don't get it, Hajime. You don't even treat me like your second choice anymore. I don't know where I stand with you, and I haven't for a long time."

"W-what are you saying?"

"We're done."

"(Y/N), please. I can make this up to you. I know I can--"

"You're not a part of my life anymore."

He never asked how your day was or how you were. You were lucky if you got a drunk text after he went out and celebrated with his teammates. He didn't even know where you worked. You wouldn't know how he was doing if you didn't catch his games every now and then on TV. He was so far removed from your life, and had been for almost two years.

"But...you were my first. It can't end like this," he protested softly.

"I've forgotten what loving you feels like. And I'm sure you have too."

And that was the crux of the problem. With distance came a slew of problems that neither of you had anticipated. You weren't there for one another anymore. You couldn't keep up with each other's days, or feel each other's touch. It had destroyed your relationship.

You had known far before him, because you were a feeler. You always had been. But he was a thinker. And without any indication from you, he'd assumed things were fine while you crumbled away by yourself.

He vaguely registered that he had made his way out into the hall of your apartment building. He didn't know if he had stumbled there himself or if you had dragged him. He turned to glance at you, his mouth open in disbelief.

You were crying. Just like when he had left two years ago.

You'd tried to hide it from him then, and he'd barely noticed. But now the tears ran freely down your cheeks.

"I wish it didn't have to be this way," you said softly. "But I can't love you anymore. Good-bye."

He vaguely heard the door shut. He stared at the door in confusion.

This was wrong. This wasn't what supposed to happen.

You cried for him. You had always cried for him.

And suddenly, he felt it.

A cold hand squeezing his heart as he realized every painful emotion that he'd made you feel. Abandonment at choosing his dreams over you. Loneliness over not calling you like he said he would. The anguish of waiting for him to come back. Distress. Despair.

He'd done that to you.

He wasn't aware of anything around him anymore. He'd simply collapsed against the wall, desperately trying to make his own tears stop falling. Trying to remember how to breathe properly. Trying to stop the terrible feelings.

Trying to stop the realization that you cared this deeply about him and that he'd barely scratched the surface in comparison.

You were his first love. His only love. And he'd thrown you away.

He knew it. And he hated himself for it.