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“I’m sorry, every single song is about you.”
The words fell from his lips before he could stop them, the weight of them almost unbearable. His fingers shook as he strummed the guitar, and his voice cracked just slightly, a raw edge creeping in as the song dragged him deeper into the pain he’d buried. He wasn’t thinking about the crowd. He wasn’t thinking about the music. He was just lost in the memories—memories of a love he couldn’t forget, a love that slipped through his fingers no matter how hard he tried to hold on.
Murmurs from the crowd started to rise as the tune coming from Iwaizumi halted to a stop, but he couldn’t hear them, couldn’t get his fingers to move again. His bandmates glanced at him, unsure whether to continue or step in, but Iwaizumi didn’t notice them. He was drowning in the thoughts of Oikawa—so close, and yet so far away.
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