iwaizumi's favorite shirt is a faded old oversized godzilla tee that he's had since high school. the navy blue fabric has gone nearly threadbare in some places, the neck has certainly seen better days. and there's a finicky hole that needs to be re-sewn in one of the armpits before it gets too out of hand again.
oikawa, mattsun, and makki all learned the hard way at one point or another that one does not borrow iwaizumi's godzilla t-shirt—not even when one is camping and "iwa-chan, you're the only one who has a spare dry shirt left, and it's freezing out, you stingy bastard!"
so when you pad over to the front door early one fall morning to let the boys inside while iwaizumi finishes packing for their hike, you're met with several curious and somewhat dumbfounded stares when they see the shirt you're wearing as pajamas.
“IWA-CHAN, YOU FINALLY DID IT?!” oikawa calls out suddenly.
“does this mean i don’t have to keep it a secret anymore?” makki exhales in relief, fist-bumping mattsun.
“let me see the ring, he wouldn’t show me,” oikawa gestures impatiently toward your hand. “he’s had it for months.”
you blink in confusion. oikawa looks down at your very empty ring finger and also blinks in confusion.
“out. right now. all of you with your big, dumb, giant ugly mouths, get out,” iwaizumi barks from somewhere behind you.
it’s only once the front door swings shut and the entryway goes quiet that you finally turn around.
—and you find your boyfriend on one knee, his shirt halfway on and toothpaste smeared on his cheek.
“i did have this entire thing planned out for later tonight,” he sighs, smiling up at you, the diamond in his hand reflecting in the soft morning light.
(at the wedding, oikawa’s speech is a 5-minute monologue about how a 14-year-old iwaizumi once told him—after punching him in the face for trying to steal that very shirt from his closet—that the only other person he’d ever let wear it would be his future wife.)
