[ Iwaizumi can feel a full twitch in his eye, the tension that knits his brow together, the way his shoulders go tight in response to the tone of Oikawa's voice. Again, he doesn't need to look up to know what his face is doing, and he wants to shake him, to grab him by the shoulders and yell in his face about how wrong he is about himself. About how he's the most devoted person that Hajime has ever known, about how he put his all into volleyball and into supporting Seijou that he ruined himself, cut years off of his pro career just for his high school team.
He wants to take him by the face and tell him that his real personality, beneath all those horrible layers, is fucking beautiful despite what his insecurities tell him. That he's never pitied him and never will, and will always help him out of the dark.
Slowly, he sits up, eyes keen but soft as he sets his hands on Oikawa's shin. ]
You're more than good enough, Oikawa. You always have been. I don't know where the hell you got the idea that you aren't.
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He wants to take him by the face and tell him that his real personality, beneath all those horrible layers, is fucking beautiful despite what his insecurities tell him. That he's never pitied him and never will, and will always help him out of the dark.
Slowly, he sits up, eyes keen but soft as he sets his hands on Oikawa's shin. ]
You're more than good enough, Oikawa. You always have been. I don't know where the hell you got the idea that you aren't.