[Iwa’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out to see the now familiar contact name - Shirabu Kenjiro. Funny how it brings a smile to his face every time now, and pleasant twist to his stomach. He opens the message just as casual as ever, excited as always to engage in any and all conversation with the boy who’s been occupying his mind nonstop over the past few weeks - and it is exciting, partially because Iwaizumi never really knows what to expect when he opens these messages.
[What he reads today when he opens his phone hits him like a wrecking ball to the gut. He freezes where he’d been walking, stares at his phone like the message is in another language.
[And then the twisting in his stomach erupts into a wild flurry of butterflies.
[“Boyfriend”, he says, just as forward as ever - and so sure sounding too. It stops Iwaizumi from giving in to the urge to double check.
[Shirabu wants this, wants him, even despite all the bullshit.
[And Iwaizumi wants it too. But what to say? There’s really only one way to put it, right?
[Nothing if not straightforward, Shirabu.]
Yes.
[That should be enough, right? And yet it feels lacking somehow. He wants him to know, really know—-]
You get a novel anyway whoops! Simple text thread who?
[What he reads today when he opens his phone hits him like a wrecking ball to the gut. He freezes where he’d been walking, stares at his phone like the message is in another language.
[And then the twisting in his stomach erupts into a wild flurry of butterflies.
[“Boyfriend”, he says, just as forward as ever - and so sure sounding too. It stops Iwaizumi from giving in to the urge to double check.
[Shirabu wants this, wants him, even despite all the bullshit.
[And Iwaizumi wants it too. But what to say? There’s really only one way to put it, right?
[Nothing if not straightforward, Shirabu.]
Yes.
[That should be enough, right? And yet it feels lacking somehow. He wants him to know, really know—-]
I want that too. Yes.