Iwaizumi Has Never Once Forgotten A Date.

iwaizumi has never once forgotten a date.

oikawa's always told him it makes him sound weird and robotic—that no one remembers the exact day they broke their first bone or had their first kiss, iwa. that memories pass and days fade and you're not meant to remember the exact date of every little thing, but, if he's being completely honest, iwaizumi kind of likes it.

he's never forgotten a date, and so today, your birthday, is really no exception.

granted, he didn't expect himself to be standing at your front porch with a little piece of paper stuffed in his pocket today—but facetime just didn't seem like enough and he couldn't stomach the idea of you getting your birthday gift from the postman, so here he is.

"hajime?" you hover in the doorway, eyeing him, and for a moment, he thinks this might have been an incredibly stupid idea. "what are you doing here?"

"your birthday," he breathes. "i didn't wanna miss it."

and you laugh, "so you came all the way here?"

"so i came all the way here, yeah." he stands there for a moment, hoping to gauge some kind of reaction out of you, but he's caught between shock and horror, so that isn't really doing him any good.

"you really didn't have to"

"i know, i just," he hesitates, digging around in his pocket for a moment before he fishes out the paper. "i really wanted to hear your voice and i really wanted to give this to you in person and i really didn't want you to think i forgot, so here."

normally, he would curse himself for the word vomit, but right now he's a little busy thrusting an envelope into your hands for him to bring himself to care.

"oh-" you hold the letter between your fingers, twisting the little opening of the envelope in your hands. "what is it?"

and he eyes you.

"okay, yeah, yeah i have to open it to find out. you don't even have to say it," you say, and he chokes out a little laugh.

"at least you figured it out, i guess." he watches you sink your fingers beneath the little cover, unfolding the sheets in your hands and, he really considers telling you to wait until later to read it. he doesn't.

"babe?" you ask, and you look like you could cry. "did you write me a love letter for my birthday?"

he did. it's brief, incredibly so, and he's not sure he said anything that he was trying to say, but it's in his handwriting and it's in your hands, so he's not sure he could take it back now if he tried. truthfully, judging by the way your eyes spill across the words, holding the little letter in shaky hands, he's not so sure he'd want to either.

"something like that," he shrugs. "just—don't make fun of me if it sounds stupid."

"hajime," you start.

"or do, i guess, it doesn't really matter and it's your birthday so whatever makes you happy—"

"haji." he pauses.

"sorry, what?"

and you kiss him. it's a crash of lips and a crinkle of paper and the joining of the both of you on your little doorstep. it's the twisting of breaths and the ache of reunion and happy birthday whispered across your tongue.

you kiss him, and when you're finished, and your lips are sucking in every little twist of air they can muster, you kiss him again. you kiss him until his lungs ache—until his being is as much yours as it is his own, until the rain starts coming down too hard and you're both too soaked to think and you're pulling him inside by the wrist, so you can take him to your room and stare at his handwriting a little more.

you kiss him, and iwaizumi realizes at that moment that really, really likes remembering dates, especially if they're for you.