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New Year’s day - Hajime Iwaizumi

A/N: Happy New Years!! In honour of another year of Hajime Iwaizumi (27) Athletic Trainer, I wanted to write a one-shot inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time, and who else could I write it about but him..

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"You and Me, Forevermore"

"There's glitter on the floor after the party,"

The party was over. The music had faded, the laughter was only a memory, and the apartment was a quiet mess of confetti, empty glasses, and the faint scent of candle wax.

Glitter clung to the hardwood floor, and the soft light of early dawn began to seep through the curtains. You stood in the middle of it all, barefoot and quiet, soaking in the aftermath of the night.

"Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor."

The Polaroids were scattered, some half-hidden beneath chairs, others resting precariously on the edge of the coffee table. You bent down, picking up one that had slipped beneath a chair leg. It was of you and Iwaizumi, arms wrapped around each other, mid-laugh. The night felt impossibly far away now, even though his laugh echoed faintly in your chest.

Gathering the rest of the photos, you made your way to the couch, where a scrapbook waited on the table. The scrapbook had been your little project for months—a way to hold on to the moments that mattered most. Tonight's photos were perfect additions. You flipped to a blank page, then paused, running your fingers over the smooth surface.

Reaching for a pen, you wrote softly, carefully:

"Don't read the last page,

But I stay when it's hard, or it's wrong, or we're making mistakes."

The words were a quiet promise, one you had made so many times before in the moments that tested your patience and your love. You and Iwaizumi didn't need grand declarations to make your feelings known. It was always in the small, steady ways you showed up for each other.

A sound pulled you from your thoughts. You glanced up to see Iwaizumi standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his hair tousled and his shirt wrinkled from the long night. He had a trash bag in one hand and a few empty bottles in the other, looking every bit like someone who had just spent hours hosting a New Year's Eve party. His expression then softened when his gaze met yours.

"You don't have to do all that right now," you said, setting the scrapbook aside.

He gave you that familiar, small smile-the one that always made your chest feel warm. "If I don't, who will?"

You crossed the room, taking the bottles from his hand and setting them down on the counter. "We can do it together," you said gently.

The two of you worked in quiet tandem, the kind of teamwork that didn't need words. He gathered stray confetti while you stacked empty glasses. You wiped down the counters while he cleared discarded decorations. Every now and then, you caught him stealing glances at you, his gaze soft and steady in the early morning light.

"I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day."

It wasn't glamorous, but it was a reflection of who you were together. The big, glittering celebrations were always fun, but what mattered most were the quiet moments like this-the ones where you simply showed up for each other, no matter how messy life got.

As you worked, you found yourself watching him more than the mess. The way the soft light caught in his hair, the way he moved with that quiet determination that had drawn you to him from the start. You smiled to yourself, thinking:

"I want your midnights.."

He caught you staring, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"What's that look for?"

"Just thinking about how lucky I am," you admitted, the words light but honest.

His smirk softened into something more tender, and he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You're lucky?" he murmured, his voice low. "What about me?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Fine. Maybe we're both lucky."

The cleaning didn't take long. Soon, the apartment was as tidy as it could be in the early hours of New Year's Day. The confetti was gone, the bottles were tossed, and the room had settled into a kind of quiet peace.

Iwaizumi stood by the window now, his gaze on the faint light of sunrise creeping over the horizon. You joined him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and resting your cheek against his back. He turned, pulling you into his arms, holding you close.

"I still can't believe it's another year already," you murmured. "But as long as I'm with you, I think I'm ready for whatever comes next."

His hand came up to cup your cheek, his warm brown eyes locking with yours. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned down, brushing his lips against yours. The kiss was soft at first, tender, but it deepened into something more—a promise, unspoken but understood. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer as the world seemed to fade away. The quiet hum of the morning, the faint glow of the sun—it all melted into the background, leaving only the two of you in the moment.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the stillness.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, his voice steady and sure.

Your heart swelled as you smiled, your hand gently brushing his cheek. "Neither am I."

He pulled you into another kiss, this one slower, more lingering, as if he wanted to memorize every second of it.

When he finally let you go, the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other as the light of the new year spilled into the room.

"I will hold on to you."

And as you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, you knew you didn't need anything else. Just him. Just this.

"Forevermore."

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