Ann

Regarding NSFW or dark content:

Yes, I do write for this, only it will be posted on a side blog. This blog is meant for sfw or slightly suggestive content, so requests will be met with a link to that page. Interested in said NSFW blog? Hop on over -> 18+ Blog As with other requests, things I am not comfortable writing for will be added over time as I come across it.

Masterlist

You sighed, hitting your forehead against the screen.

You don’t know what overcame you, but after years of being out of touch with Akaashi and Bokuto, you finally responded to a message in your DMs about flying over to watch one of the latter’s games. You knew Bokuto played professionally now, but once graduation came around, you strayed from watching sports. The only reason you enjoyed it from the start was that a volleyball match was playing on the television in the background while Akaashi taught you calculus. It was a break from the impending marks of failure you were about to receive.

The phone in your hands chimed. Not even having to look, you knew it was them.

A black car pulled up to the sidewalk, and Akaashi stepped out from the driver’s seat, adorned in jeans and a dark blue sweater. Nothing struck you as noticeably different about him, other than the fact that he wore a pair of glasses. That was new.

Catching your eye, he waved you over. You took in a deep breath and grabbed the handle of your luggage, pushing forward.

Too late to turn back now.

As you approached, the back window rolled down. Bokuto stuck half his frame out, yelling out your name while waving.

A couple of people walking by slowed to stare, some with recognition coating their faces.

That’s right, Bokuto was somewhat known now. And, seeing how the number twelve was displayed across his chest in large font, he was wearing his uniform.

“I thought the game wasn’t until tomorrow.” That was your way of greeting the two men as you handed your bag over to Akaashi.

“Yeah, but Bokuto was so excited to pick you up, he didn’t change after practice.” You turned as Akaashi slammed the trunk. “Bokuto, please roll up the window.”

Frowning in protest, Bokuto withdrew himself from the window.

“The passenger seat is yours, unless you want to share the back.”

You buckled yourself into the front seat.

The hotel you were staying at for the next two nights was over an hour away. Bokuto filled up the majority of that time by chatting, Akaashi only occasionally butting in.

You smiled softly to yourself, relieved by how normal everything felt, without the awkward, pointless small talk.

As if the six years that had passed were rather akin to a summer vacation.

“Akaaaashi!” Bokuto yelled, his hands shaking the top of your seat aggressively. He knew better than to mess with the person driving. “We should get snacks!”

“There’s plenty of food back at your apartment you can have, later.”

“But then Y/n isn’t gonna be here! We should get some, now! Just like the old days.” You felt his eyes peering through your skull, and it took an immense amount of willpower not to inch forward.

“I’m sure they’re jet lagged from the flight and would prefer an early night.”

“Actually,” you contemplated, speaking up. Memories of racing to buy snacks at an ungodly hour before the corner store closed during school nights flitted through your mind. “I’m fine with stopping.”

A cheer erupted from the back seat as pressure was released from your headrest. You found yourself humming quietly at the mere joy your words brought him. Even though Akaashi sighed, there was no hiding his happiness from you, either.

The trio was back in business.

When a convenience store finally came into view, Bokuto practically flew out of the car while Akaashi was still slowing to a stop. The man half-skipped across the empty parking lot as Akaashi shook his head.

“Shouldn’t he wear a mask…?” you paused, thinking about his career. The man next to you seemed to pick up on your reasoning, shrugging as he pulled up to the car wash. The plan was for Bokuto to buy the snacks while Akaashi and you washed the car.

“It’s not as much of an issue as you’d think. Now, walking around near the match location where a bunch of fans are gathered is a different story.”

Putting in a couple of dollars, the door slowly rose, allowing you entry. The neon car sign glowed from above, with a little animation of bubbles appearing and disappearing.

“How’s your career going?” you asked, suddenly feeling shy in the dark space. Looks like the lights hadn’t been changed in a while.

“Been good. Editing’s an entertaining thing to do if you make it as such.”

“So you know the next release before it comes out, right?” You leaned over the middle compartment teasingly.

“I signed an NDA,” he warned, shutting you down instantly.

Akaashi subsequently asked you about your career, leading you off on a small tangent. Bubbles foamed around the window, truly casting you both in darkness now.

“Maybe we should turn the light on—“

“Why’d you not stay in touch?”

And there it was. The question you’d been dreading.

“Bokuto texts you as much as he texts me: I’ve seen the messages. He was really hurt when someone finally replied, telling him they just got the number, so you must’ve changed yours.”

“I forgot to pay my phone bill,” you blurted, the embarrassing truth as to why you never stayed in touch surfacing. “I know it sounds like an excuse, but then I lost my phone, and never really did figure out how to trace over my contacts—“

“Why not reach out over social media?” Akaashi cut you off. You thought back to all the times when Bokuto reached out through your direct messages once you set up an account, and you waited until now to finally respond.

Perhaps it’s because you questioned how he could’ve found your platform in the first place, since you got locked out of your old ones. Or maybe it’s because you thought too much time had passed, and it’d be weird to reach out when you two weren’t even in the same country anymore.

You decided to say “I’m not sure” and left it at that. “Are you mad?”

“Never.” Akaashi was always a difficult person to read, but right now, you were fighting for any hints of the truth in his tone. From what little you picked up on, you had no clue as to if he was being sincere or not.

“Disappointed?” At that, Akaashi paused. He took his glasses off and shifted to face you, looking like the boy you once begged to skip classes with you in school. In the dark, his hair appeared longer, more unkempt than it once had been.

“That you didn’t think we’d want to hear from you? Yeah, a little bit.” You shifted in the leather seat, eyeing any way of escape, but there was none. “But you’re here now, and that has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, giving him a tentative smile. He was giving you a way out.

Water sprayed against the window, finally allowing you to peer out the blurry glass. Still half of the car wash to go.

Akaashi sighed. “Now it’s awkward.”

“You’re the one who started it,” you defended.

“Was I?” You gasped at the smirk that now lay across his lips.

“I will not be gaslighted.” Huffing, you tapped your head against the window, trying to come up with a comeback.

But then, something caught your eye in the mirror. A figure stood just outside the entrance.

“Did you lock the doors?” You heard him shuffle but didn’t look over, hesitant to lose track of the person.

“No, why?” The blooming atmosphere of light-heartedness was as quick as it came. A ghost of a hand swiped yours as he shifted about.

“I think maybe you should—“

Too late.

You felt the onslaught of water before you saw it. A split second later, Bokuto was sitting in the back seat, drenched by the power washer as he decided then was the perfect time to open the door. Not when the sprayer was located on the other side of the car; no, it had to be when he was face-to-face with it.

“What the fuck.” According to his voice, you figured Akaashi now comprehended what your previous comment entailed.

“I got the snacks,” the man said, as if that would wash away the flurry of soap and water he allowed to enter the car.

“Why didn’t you wait outside?” You commended Akaashi for remaining calm, despite the ludicrousness you had just faced.

“Because it’s cold!”

You couldn’t help it: you burst out into a fit of laughter. After a pause, Bokuto joined in.

“This car was a rental,” you heard Akaashi comment, taking his time going under the dryer. As if it would miraculously dry the inside of the vehicle.

“Oh, Bokuto!” you exclaimed, suddenly realizing the situation. “You need that jersey for tomorrow’s game, right?”

“Eh, wouldn’t be the first time I get reprimanded for showing up in a dirty uniform. Look,” he started, rummaging about in his bag from the convenience store. “I got your favorite! At least the food stayed dry!”

“We can always wash the jersey once we get to the hotel. I’m sure the room has an ironer I could borrow, too.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want to impose,” Akaashi piped in.

“Might as well.” You tapped your fingers against the seatbelt, squeezing it in your grasp. “We need to catch up on years of missed movie marathons, anyway. No better time to catch up than tonight.”

“You heard them, right, Akaashi?!” From the rearview mirror, you watched as Bokuto bounced about the back seat. “Sleepover at Y/n’s!”

“Are you sure?” Akaashi asked you, ignoring his friend entirely.

You nodded in affirmation. Bokuto continued his cheering the whole way, spilling chips at some point when he tore open one of the snack bags, earning Akaashi another potential fee for the car.

You sang along to the late-night radio all the while, wishing you had replied to Bokuto years earlier.

Kenma sat on the floor, his fingers moving rapidly to keep up with his game. You may have watched one or two rounds at most before rolling over, concentrating on the book you started that morning.

Four hours later, there’s only fiftyish pages remaining.

“Mom should be home within the hour,” Kenma reminded you at random.

“And you’re telling me this because…?” You huffed, frustrated by the fact that he just pulled you away from your immersion.

“It’s your day to do laundry.”

You swore, repeating the page number in your head religiously before abandoning it on the pillow. Crawling off the bed, each movement felt sluggish and tiring.

So much for reading the day away.

“Fix your posture!” You yelled at him as you sprinted down to the laundry room. You didn’t hear your brother’s reply; granted, he probably didn’t give one.

Clothes were strewn in heaps across the floor. With the washer door open, you scrambled to pick out what goes with which load. All the jeans in order, you decided to do those first.

In no way would anything be finished in time before your mom got home, but at least there was an obvious attempt made.

Focusing your attention now on the shirts, you sorted out the lighter colors from the darker ones while sitting cross-legged on the floor. You halted as an unfamiliar red sweater that was once hidden by several other pieces caught your gaze.

Too big to be Kenma’s, and not small enough to properly fit your mother.

As realization dawned on you, you cast it aside. 

Kuroo Tetsurou may spend an unreasonable amount of time at your house, but you refused to do his laundry for things he didn’t care enough about to remember leaving behind. Who does he think he is, putting his stuff in your laundry bin? Typically, his clothes would be lying on Kenma’s floor until someone bothered themselves with throwing them off into a corner.

Huh…

Springing forward on your tippy toes, you snatched the sweater back to your side. Holding it close, it still had the faint scent of him to it. The frayed edges caught your nails as you extended the clothing out to examine it thoroughly.

Your eyes widened as the sweater slipped from your grasp. A memory, albeit insignificant at the time of its occurrence, resurfaced.

~~~

You were cold.

And not in a ‘one degree difference of the thermostat will solve all my problems’ type of way. It was a ‘Kuroo, why the hell did you not open the door, it’s been down pouring for the last ten minutes’ type of cold.

You certainly could have taken cover somewhere else, but plans had been made, and you were stubborn enough to stick it out.

Even if you were trembling like you just completed a climb up a sheer rock face, you weren’t going to walk all the way home.

“My phone was on silent,” he said, as if that excuse would make the situation any better by the time he noticed you outside. “Why didn’t you knock?”

“I did,” you said flatly. “Guess your ears were turned down, too.” Even though you were just barely standing in the doorway to his house, Kuroo didn’t offer to invite you in.

No, he was more-so blocking the door with his body as he stared down at you.

“Aren’t you gonna let me in?” you hinted, eyeing up the warmth seeping past him and towards you in the colder outside conditions.

“You’re soaked.”

“Thanks, Mr. Obvious.”

He remained stationary, leaning against the doorframe in a warm hoodie and shorts. His fingers rapped against the door frame repetitively, agitating you with every tap. You stared him down through the hair glued to your face at this point from the rain.

“Hang on a sec,” he said, vanishing back into his house, leaving you to continue being a drowned rat in the entryway.

Not being the first time here, considering Kenma would sometimes sleep over and you’d come along to hang out, you invited yourself inside. 

The smell of something sweet instantly greeted you. It emanated from the kitchen. Kuroo must have prepared a treat for the tutoring session he was about to conduct.

You smiled, taking a small step towards the enticing aroma.

“Here, take these.” Kuroo reappeared from down the hall, a pair of sweatpants and a sweater in hand.

Even though your fingers trembled while reaching out, and knowing you were desperate for something to soothe your chilled body, you hesitated. You’ve seen enough sweat-stained clothing of his from volleyball practice to be suspicious.

“They’re clean,” he declared, as if having read your mind. “Or do you want the shirt off my back? I might get a little chilled, but—“

“These will work just fine!” you blurted, not quite positive of why you suddenly felt fuzzy. “Be right back.”

You eyed yourself in the mirror as you entered the bathroom, clothes in hand. There was no fixing your wet tangle of a hair-do. The dry clothes would have to be enough.

After several minutes, you walked down the hall towards his bedroom. You were trying and failing to prevent tripping over the extremely long pants. They consumed your feet, which were now bare to avoid leaving puddles in your socks around the house. Rolling them up seemed fruitless, as you had already stopped twice to do so, a couple of steps after unraveling your work each time.

The view of Kuroo being hunched over his desk as he examined the homework you brought welcomed you as you rounded the corner into his bedroom.

He didn’t seem to notice your presence at first as you sauntered in.

“New cologne?” you mused, holding the long red sleeve up to your nose.

“Nah, just something I found in the back of my closet.” You hummed in acknowledgment, not realizing he was now looking your way.

“Hey, why—“ he stiffened, cutting himself off. You glanced up as his mouth wavered between a smile and a frown. 

“What is it?” You moved to sit beside him.

“Don’t sniff my sweater, ya weirdo.” He flipped open your workbook, clearing his throat as he began the process of picking out practice problems.

“Was not!” You blushed, smacking him lightly across the back.

“Was too…” he replied, smirking as he turned to face you, settling in for a long night of studying. "Now tell me: how in the world did you end up with this response?"

~~~

“Kenma!” you screamed. You had raced back to his room in an instant, laundry be damned.

You were out of breath. You were flustered.

And now you had your brother thinking someone must’ve broken in with a knife, the way you ran in so hysterical.

“What happened?” He was already halfway to his feet when you started rambling.

“I think I'm in love with Kuroo!” you blurted between breaths.

Kenma froze, eyeing his game nervously as he swayed between standing up fully or sitting back down.

“What?”

“I don’t know what to think!” you continued, throwing your hands towards the ceiling in exasperation. “Since when has he been so sweet and funny and considerate?! I mean, banter is fine and all, but sometimes I feel like he's teasing me, so do I take that in a flirty or nonchalant way? You're his best friend, what do you think?"

“Why are you wearing his sweater?” was the next thing out of Kenma’s mouth.

You glanced down, eyeing the red article of clothing you haphazardly put on downstairs as you thought about your feelings.

“Because the last time I saw him was last week, and this is the only thing here that remotely smells like him!”

“Maybe we should have this conversation later,” your brother suggested.

But you wanted to deal with this pressing realization now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” you yelled, as if some telepathy from Kenma betrayed you. Because undoubtedly, he would have noticed the moment you started catching feelings. You were both brought into this world together. There was nothing about you and nothing about him that you two weren’t aware of.

Surely, that’s what you kept telling yourself, knowing damn well you’ve kept a mountain of secrets from him since elementary school, starting with cutting his hair in kindergarten and blaming it on a classmate.

“…How would I know?”

He was, in your eyes, a terrible twin brother for not warning you of this predicament. And now he claims to never have had knowledge of this impending doom in the first place?

You fled his room, stomping all the way to yours as you slammed the door, officially ending your declaration.

Kenma stayed frozen, his game buzzing with the occasional noise. In the room, a deafening silence settled, but it wasn’t the same as before you had barged in. It had been filled with chatter as Kenma occasionally hummed in recognition of the other presence.

“…You good?” Kenma said, glancing down at his phone, which was lit dimly with a call. “Kuroo?”

“Was that a prank?” The third-year’s voice came across the line quietly. “But that wouldn’t make sense, because neither of you tends to pull stuff like this.”

“She’s always been a little outgoing with her thoughts, but not this like. Not so…” Kenma slowed, trying to conceptualize the right wording. “Flustered? Anxious? I don’t know what that was.”

Kuroo didn’t offer any help, and when Kenma called out to him again, all he heard was something slamming in the background.

Deciding to end the call from his end, Kenma went back to his game.

Now alone with your thoughts in your own room, you grew frustrated at yourself for abandoning your book in your brother’s room. It felt like admitting defeat to walk back in there and grab it, so you went without.

When the knocking eventually came, you sighed.

You knew a lecture awaited you, the moment your mother realized the single thing she asked of you didn’t get done.

The knocking continued as you dragged your feet over, calling out to your mom that you were coming.

Resigning to your fate, you slowly pried the door open, not sure whether you’d be greeted with anger or disappointment. Both were terrible outcomes to be faced with.

Growing impatient from the other side, a hand reached out and yanked your door open the rest of the way.

You flinched, not ready for whatever was about to go down.

“Kuroo?”

“I’m in love with you, too!” he proclaimed. Kuroo was out of breath and wearing what looked to be house apparel.

You should have felt ecstatic, flustered, or even a tad bit shy.

But only a sudden rush of dread hit you.

“Kenma told you?” you whispered, your arms dropping to your sides.

“I was in the room!” Kuroo rushed, running a hand through his hair. You never saw him, and even in your hurried state at the time, you would’ve noticed him there.

“What, like some creep in the closet?” You laughed, but it came out hoarse, your mouth dry. “You know I hate when you scare me.”

“What? No, no, no, it wasn’t like that!” Kuroo was rambling now, explaining how Kenma and he had been on call when you bursted in, all frantic. Your feelings of betrayal turned into embarrassment over not even checking the situation before spouting out everything on your mind. But the feelings that suddenly came over you had clouded your judgment beyond reason.

“Oh,” you said, deflating in on yourself. “So you heard everything I said. Cool.”

“If you wanted me to come over, you could’ve just asked,” Kuroo smirked, signaling at his red sweater you were still wearing.

That’s right: you said that, too.

“Get out,” you stammered, shoving the boy out of your room. “Go bother my brother or something.”

“Wait,” his eyes widened. “We still need to talk!”

“Not today!” you declared, promptly shutting the door in his face. Enough was said already, and you need time. “Come back later!”

“Midnight work for you?” 

The smartass. You thumped your body against the wood, sliding to the floor.

You listened as his footsteps retreated down the hall. Rubbing your hands through your hair furiously, you screamed internally.

Jumping up and running full force into your bed, all you could think about was how Kuroo said he loved you back.

Ultimately, this dilemma was how Oikawa ended up being single for practically the entirety of his third year of high school.

But there was at least one girl who remained a prominent figure in his life, no matter the obstacles: his childhood best friend, you.

While the two of you admittedly have had some rough patches, living down the street from one another led to inevitable reconciliations. After all, you couldn’t have kept up the hatred when your parents would frequently have one another over for weekend dinners.

Enemy or friend, you were always there for him.

For example, you were the first one to comfort him when his high school career crashed down on him, his season officially over.

The moment the ball dropped, you were already running down the stairs, away from the bleachers and towards the ground floor. Oikawa spotted you as his team passed through the gym doors after the concluding end ceremony. 

“Bus leaves in ten,” Iwaizumi reminded him, slapping the boy on the back before continuing with the others. He nodded towards you as he passed, giving you and Oikawa some privacy.

“Welp,” you said, flinging your arms wide as the boys rounded the corner and out of sight. “That was a shit show.”

“More like one big joke,” he grumbled, walking into your open embrace as you wrapped your arms around his waist. “How are we supposed to beat Shiratorizawa if we can’t even defeat some stupid unknown school?”

“They can’t be so unknown if Tobio went there after middle school.”

“You wound me, you know that?”

“You were so confident you’d beat him again, too,” you commented, patting him on the back. Loosening your grip, you leaned backward, smiling up at him. “But this failure only means there’s still something better to look forward to. You haven’t reached your goals yet, so keep playing until you do.”

“You always know what to say, even if you pissed me off with the first half.” His sniffles grew quieter as he lifted his head, though Oikawa kept his arms loosely connected to your pants loops. “Why don’t we just get married already?”

He was expecting you to smack him while taunting him with the phrase ‘only in your dreams’, just like you always had. 

But not this time.

“You serious?”

“I’ve always been serious!” he proclaimed.

“Really? Because the last couple of times you asked me, you were bawling your eyes out after a breakup.”

Taking a moment to pause, his face goes flushed. “That was always a spur-of-the-moment type of comment.”

“But you mean it this time?”

Nodding, the boy goes to say goodbye. Before he could say anything more, you stopped him.

“How about we date first?”

“What did you say?”

“Did I miss you getting hit in the head with the ball during the game? I said, let’s date.” You laughed as he froze up. “Marriage is sorta a big deal for me. Let’s take it slow, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good, I’ll see you later.” You left him where he was standing, clearly dazed and not quite sure of what just transpired.

By the time he finally moved, he just barely made it to the bus on time. Hurrying to get a seat before take-off, most of his teammates barely paid him any mind, too focused on the matter of losing.

“You didn’t invite Y/n to hop on with us? Shame.” Matsukawa scoffed, leaning back in his seat.

“And what if he did? Were you going to finally shoot your shot with her?” Hanamaki remarked.

“So what if I did? Guess we’ll never know.”

“Y/n-chan and I are dating!” Oikawa yelled, so loud might one add, that the whole fucking bus of boys went dead silent.

“Don’t get your head all scrambled up over it. They're just riling you up to admit it. About time, might I add." Iwaizumi pulled his friend back down into the seat before he could hurl himself at one of the others.

“Huh?”

“We’ve known for ages,” Matsukawa stated.

“But we only just started dating a few minutes ago.”

Oikawa was met with blank stares.

“Then what the hell were you two doing before that?” one of them finally voiced.

“Being friends? No different from hanging out with you three.”

Iwaizumi visibly gagged. “Oh god, don’t say that. You’re so oblivious it hurts. She’s liked you since elementary school, dumbass.”

That night, Oikawa ran down the street, straight to your house after his shower, hair still sopping wet. He wouldn't be surprised if soap was still foaming in his brown locks having not been able to stand under the water any longer, alone with his thoughts.

His thoughts of you.

You answered the door after the fifth knock, jumping back in surprise when he nearly punched you in the face.

“You know I was joking about getting married earlier, right?” Oikawa cut you off before you could yell at him for the near collision.

“I figured.”

“Then why suggest we date?”

You sighed, lightly banging your head on the door frame. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you stood up straight, staring the third-year down.

“Because I like you, idiot. And you’re finally single.” You shrugged. “A little bit heartbroken over the game, but at least it’s not some girl this time. I thought I chose pretty good timing.”

“You like me?”

“Yes, dummy. Don’t make me say it again.”

“Go out with me?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “Didn’t we already agree to this?”

"We did, didn't we?"

Good thing you didn't retract your offer, seeing as how he already told the entire team.

It didn’t register for anyone until Kageyama himself caught several of them betting in the locker room about when you’d confess.

“Why would she confess when we’re already dating?” He tugged on his coat, scoffing under his breath as he exited. “Idiots.”

It was like he dropped a bomb in the room.

When they overcame their shell shock, the group of boys hunted you down. It shocked them that you were shocked by their questions.

“Yes, we’ve been dating for months now. I thought it was obvious?”

No. No, it was not.

Sugawara had to hold Nishinoya back from thrashing out at the first-year over finding a girlfriend before him.

As if he hadn’t been rooting you two on to begin with.

Once the initial surprise of it all wore off, that’s when they started to notice the little things.

Like how he held the door open for you, offering a genuine smile as you hummed in gratitude. Or how the little doodles on your homework somehow always incorporated some symbol of Kageyama in them.

Or when Yamaguchi walked in on you both making out in the broom closet. Not like anyone else knew about that one, though, since he shut the door immediately, promising himself never to speak about what he witnessed.

So you two just weren’t a big fan of PDA. Not everyone is.

But it wasn’t always like that.

As Hinata followed Tanaka around in the morning, waiting for him to unlock the club room, they spotted you with several of your friends heading into the main building.

“They’re here early, huh?” Hinata said. “We should say hi, then brag to Kageyama that I said good morning to his girlfriend first!”

“Wait a sec—“ But the orange-haired boy was already gone, leaving Tanaka in the dust.

The group of you and your classmates was already halfway down another hallway when Hinata caught up. Still masked by the turn in the hall, he called out.

“Hey—“

“What’s next? I bet he’ll make you wait until marriage for—“

Hinata’s voice died mid-sentence as several of the girls giggled. Almost taunting you.

“Keep your voice down!” you hissed. Hinata was ready to jump into the conversation to hear more, but Tanaka was quick enough to hold him back. He made it just in time to prevent the rambunctious boy from revealing himself. The silence that ensued led the older boy to contemplate whether they should run, seeing as how their cover was probably blown.

“Besides,” they heard you whisper. “It’s not like that with Kageyama.”

“But it was like that with the last guy. And the one before that relationship, too.”

“Yeah, you two could never keep your hands off one another,” another girl chirped in.

“But Kageyama’s different,” you said. “And different’s okay.”

“Let’s go back.” Tanaka’s hurried whisper, coinciding with the tug on the younger boy’s shirt, left Hinata stumbling back towards the entrance.

“So what, PDA is suddenly not your thing, too?”

Hinata wanted to clap back at the girl for digging into an obviously private subject of yours, but you answered for him.

“Not if it makes my boyfriend uncomfortable. End of story.”

And that was the last thing Hinata managed to catch of the conversation before you were too far away.

Throughout the school day, Hinata was like a ticking time bomb, and it was pissing Kageyama off immensely.

“What the hell is your problem?” Kageyama couldn’t stand it past the second bell. “Concentrate on school work, dumbass.”

“You better not talk to Y/n that way,” he grumbled back.

“What did you say?”

Hinata scooted back in his seat, recalling the look of dead seriousness on Tanaka’s face when he made him vow not to bring up the morning’s incident.

“I asked if she’s coming to study with us during lunch again.”

“That’s not what you said.”

“Is too!”

The teacher walking in promptly ended the squabble.

When you joined them for lunch, the nagging sense of Hinata’s persistent staring left you squirming. However, every time you looked over, the boy would be staring off into the distance and not directly at you.

Truth be told, Hinata couldn’t stop thinking about what he overheard between you and your friends. How there always seemed to be a space between Kageyama and you. When he had a question about a particular answer, he tapped the section on the paper with his pencil, gaining your attention.

A missed opportunity to grab your hand or tap your shoulder. Any form of contact, really.

But that's just how the two of you operated. Which left Hinata puzzled, considering your friends had seen the relationship as a drastic change in your behavior.

“How are you doing, Hinata?” Your smile seemed strained when you made eye contact. Surely you hadn’t found out he had eavesdropped. Surely you weren’t plotting his death to keep him silent.

Truth be told, his staring was the only upsetting thing to you at the moment, the before-school events long forgotten as distant chatter, but Hinata would never connect the dots.

“I—uh—I think these are all right!”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that not a single thing was correct in the multiple-choice.

Later on, with an hour left to go before home, Hinata was missing an extraordinary number of volleyballs during practice. You ended up not coming today, leaving him to rot in his thoughts of whether to spill the information he gathered to Kageyama or not.

He made it all the way to the walk home, where it ended up just being him and the intimidating setter, before something slipped.

“When’s the last time you held your girlfriend’s hand?”

Kageyama froze, remaining silent as Hinata bumped into his suddenly stilled frame.

“Why’d you stop walking—“

“What is going on with you today?!” No matter how far Hinata kept backing up, Kageyama was right on his toes. “You’ve been bothering Y/n a lot, too! Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Not risking a beating, Hinata reveals everything he heard.

The rest of the walk home went by in silence.

When you woke up in the morning and prepared for school, you expected everything to be normal. 

First surprise of the day?

Kageyama was waiting for you outside your classroom. 

He was breathing hard, as if he had run across the school the moment the bell rang to catch you. He presumably had.

“What do you need?” you questioned, perplexed over his sudden appearance. “I didn’t see a text or anything.”

Kageyama stayed silent, grabbing your hand without answering you. His grasp remained firm until you were led to your next class, his posture stiff as he released his hold.

“Have a good class,” he stated, turning and running off before you could question him.

He repeated his effort of showing up outside your classroom door several more times, rushing off before giving you an explanation for his abnormal behavior of leading you around.

Finally, having had enough and growing slightly worried at this point, you dug your heels into the floor, stopping him in his tracks.

Kageyama turned around, still keeping an iron grip on your hand. You’re surprised blood was still circulating into your fingertips with how tightly he held on.

“Tobio, what’s wrong?” You ushered him to the side of the hallway, allowing students to keep passing by. “You’ve been acting strange all day. Is there something causing you anxiety?”

“I’m walking you to class?” he said, though it came across more as a question.

“More like tugging me along,” you corrected, stepping in closer. “Seriously, are you okay?”

“I just…” he sighed, his grip loosening. “I just figured I could walk you to class from now on. And we could…you know…” He kept mumbling off.

“What’d you say? I didn’t catch it.”

“I thought you’d want to hold hands!” Kageyama blurted out, causing some students to divert their stares your way. By now, he was beet red. As much as you tried not to, you laughed at the pure insanity of it all.

“I’m sorry,” you giggled, coughing as you tried to hold it back. “Why the sudden interest in handholding?”

“Because you like PDA and all that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, because my love language is physical touch. But yours isn’t, so why the change of heart?”

“It’s called a compromise.” Kageyama held up your intertwined hands, displaying the action proudly to any passerby who could possibly care. “It’s not fair if we both like each other and you can’t express yourself the way you’re best at. Communicating is key, right?”

You’re not sure why, but the slight disagreement you had with your friends yesterday popped into your head. Somehow, word must’ve gotten back to your boyfriend.

“I appreciate the sentiment, truly. But you don’t have to force yourself for my sake, Tobio.”

“But what if I want to?”

“And why would you do that?” you asked.

“Because seeing you happy makes me happy.” Kageyama put it so blatantly that you were now the one flushed in the face.

“How about we wait with all the PDA until you’re ready? And if that time never comes, that’s okay with me," you decided, waving off the sudden heartfelt exchange.

The bell rang, signifying to you both that class had started, and you’d be late.

Kageyama, despite your sentiment, tugged on your hand, this time more delicate than all the previously rushed affection.

“All of you should head to your respective rooms. Especially you, Y/n.”

You froze. It was the first time he said something all night, and it was to tell you to leave.

Just as you were about to comply under the weight of his statement, laughter erupted beside you.

“Are you really expecting her to walk all the way back this late? And what are you so intent on studying for, anyway?” Tendou leaned over you to level with the seated boy.

“The science test tomorrow,” Ushijima blatantly replied, his body shifting back around to concentrate on the workbook open on his desk.

“Well, surely one round of our card game won’t kill ya. Then, we’ll all leave. Right, guys?” Everyone nodded as Tendou smirked. He nudged his friend's chair, rocking it back and forth to draw him out from his studies. “A little fun won’t hurt you, Wakatoshi!”

Ushijima sighed. “One round and that’s it.”

Got him.

Everyone moved from the bottom bunk to the top, as Tendou proclaimed it would ‘up the stakes’.

Sitting in a new seating arrangement, you took it all in as Tendou dealt the cards. With you wedged into the corner against the wall, Ushijima blocked off the metal ladder to your right. Tendou somehow found comfort in leaning back precariously against the railing. Directly across from him and to your left was Shirabu, who looked all but ready to head to bed. That left the innocent first-year Goshiki at the other end of the bed with all the room in the world.

Leg room was an issue in itself, but that didn’t concern you as you tucked your legs underneath you.

“New game!” Tendou chirped as he continued to deal the deck out. With each pass your way, you scurried for the flying paper before it slipped off into the abyss between the bed and the wall.

“What are the rules?” Ushijima asked. While already explained at the start of game night, Shirabu found no issue with explaining once more.

“We go from ace to king, each person putting down one to four cards of a particular type. Whether it’s actually those cards you’re placing into the pile is up to you. If you think-” Shirabu scowled at Tendou, who conveniently landed a card into the setter’s eyeball.

“I’m just dealing the deck,” was all Tendou said, though his face revealed none of that was accidental.

Shirabu sighed. “Whatever. So, if you think someone’s bluffing, call them out on their bs. If they were lying, they would have to pick up all of the cards in the deck. If they were telling the truth, you would take the cards instead. The game keeps going until one of us has no cards left in our hands.”

“Sounds like this can go on for a while.” You inch closer to the wall as Ushijima looks around the circle, most likely counting down the estimated minutes until he could kick you all out.

“What do you think we’ve been doing the whole evening?” Tendou stated. “Besides, it’ll be fun. You can even go first.”

Despite thinking the boy would tell you all to go linger somewhere else, he placed down a card, calling out one ace.

And so, the game began.

The first few rounds went by quietly, each player taking their turn. No one seemed to be doing anything too risky, calling out certain plays before the pile in the center would become too daunting.

At least, that was the friendly atmosphere until the pile reached over half the deck.

“Call him out, Goshiki.” You watched as Tendou taunted the poor first-year, who was all but helpless in the situation.

“Why won’t you do it, then?”

“Because I wanted to give you the chance to. There’s no way he still has three of the same numbered cards."

Sensing a fleeting opportunity, Goshiki surveyed the options laid out for him, not knowing that Tendou was merely egging his ego on.

“Okay, then I guess-”

“Two fours,” you stated, plopping the cards down on top of Ushijima’s, which were assuredly not three threes. You know that much because two of them were in your hand.

“-bullshit. Wait, no!”

“You can’t retract what you call out,” you declared, flipping over your recently added cards to reveal, unsurprisingly, two fours. “Pick it up, Goshiki.”

You swore the light in his confident, optimistic eyes dimmed. Not an ounce of you felt pity for the boy as he now sorted out half the deck in his hand.

“Upperclassmen shouldn’t gang up on underclassmen,” Shirabu commented.

“Do you feel harassed at all, Goshiki?” You asked, a tight smile on your face as you looked up to face him.

“...no?” He didn’t seem so sure of his answer, but it was an answer nonetheless.

"See?" you asked, waving your hand around. "He's fine." You smiled at the younger boy, who returned your friendliness with a scowl. “Oh, and Shirabu?” You continued.

“What?”

“Bullshit.”

He grumbled as he took back the card he had just placed down.

And so an hour of hell began.

Anytime someone got close to the end, another would call bs, and suddenly they had another dozen or so cards back in their hands.

Tendou and you formed a sort of silent pact, not calling the other out for the bluffs you two were so adamantly taking.

“Tendou, how many sevens do you have?” you asked calmly at some point.

“Four.”

“Alright, I’ll put down three, then.” The cards barely touched the pile before Goshiki spoke up.

“Bullshit.” Still calm, you flipped the three cards to show you weren’t bluffing.

“Enough with the mind games!” Shirabu slammed his own cards down as Goshiki snatched the pile up for the umpteenth time.

“It’s almost as if that’s the point of the game!” you retaliated.

“Every other student on this floor is asleep,” Ushijima reminded you all. Needless to say, the arguing only quieted for several minutes before you exploded into a screaming match once more.

“Bullshit,” Shirabu smirked, flipping your cards upright for you.

“Stop cheating!” you yelled, grumbling as you swept all the cards piled up toward you. “For someone who didn’t even want to play another round, you and your poorly cut bangs are really pissing me off.”

“The fuck you just say about my bangs?”

“Alright, I’m putting down…two aces. Wanna call that one, hm?”

Deciding not to start a war, the conversation didn’t go any further as he placed down a single two.

But you weren’t finished.

“Bullshit.”

Cackling, you mocked him as he picked up the three cards.

“Was that even worth it?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“I don’t like you anymore.”

“Never thought you did.” You shrugged, humming happily to yourself as yet another round commenced.

While you were gaining enemies left and right, Tendou basked in the chaos, and Ushijima sighed, having bowed out of the game long ago. No one seemed to mind that he had used up all his cards rounds prior, as not a single person had called out his bluffs. For all you were concerned with, he was a spectator from the beginning.

The bickering and laughter continued for a while more until suddenly Goshiki cheered out. You briefly looked up from your conversation with Shirabu to find the boy's hands cardless, his final one placed neatly on the top of the stack.

“Ah, shit, I can’t believe you just let Goshiki get away with the win!” Tendou scoffed at the ridiculousness of what went down. It was now well after three in the morning, and the sleep-deprived third-year was throwing a fit over his underclassman coming out victorious.

“Whatever, I’m out.” Shirabu shifted forward, intent on climbing over the railing to get down and away from you.

At the same time, you also sprang forward.

“How is that my fault?!” In a split second, you were in Tendou’s personal space, which also happened to be blocking Shirabu from his exit route. “You could call bullshit at any time, but I guess all your errors in judgment finally caught up to you-”

The metal frame of the bed screeched as it bent before outright folding. You naturally tumbled to the floor, taking half the bed with you as the metal frame curved downward. Miraculously, it doesn’t outright snap, though unbending it from its almost ninety-degree angle was a feat best left for someone else.

Tendou ended up scrawled out on the desk, having made contact with that rather than the floor. Ushijima was also in a similar predicament, his upper body slammed hard into the wood while his legs bent underneath the pressure of you curled up on top of him, half of your body on the desk with the other half squished against him mid-fall to the floor.

You couldn’t see what exactly happened to Shirabu or Goshiki, but the swearing from the former told you it wasn’t exactly a pleasant landing.

“Oho, well that was eventful,” Tendou half-laughed, half-wheezed out. “Guess that was too much weight…we put on the edge there, huh?”

“No shit,” Shirabu coughed. You craned your neck to see that he had landed on the floor. 

On his face.

“I think I bruised my ribs or something…” He coughed again as he rolled over, catching your gaze. “I’m still not happy with you.”

“Are you alright?” Ushijima’s patient voice rang out from above you. With gentle but firm hands, he helped you untangle yourself from compressing him against the desk.

“Probably. Are you?” He glanced over to Tendou, who still hadn’t moved from his sprawled-out position on his desk.

“My laptop sure isn’t.”

You let out a sharp, curt laugh, not sure if he was trying to lighten the mood or not.

“Hey, you all should really keep it down. I can hear you all from down the hall-” Semi Eita only had the door half open before he froze. “What the hell is this?”

“I wasn’t certain you would see my message so late,” Ushijima replied, not alluding in the slightest to the situation at hand.

“Doesn’t help the fact that Reon was also blowing up my phone, wondering if I knew what was going on.” The boy shut the door behind him. “Mind elaborating on what is going on, actually?”

“Oh, Semi-Semi, where to start-”

The playful tone of Tendou’s voice abruptly ceases at the sound of thundering footsteps down the hall.

Swearing under his breath, and most likely regretting the situation he has now placed himself in, Semi quietly locked Ushijima’s door. Something the spiker never seems to do on his own, seeing as how Semi easily waltzed right in moments prior.

“How much trouble are we about to get in?” You glanced up, finally locating Goshiki, who somehow managed to stay upright on the top bed, albeit hanging onto the back of it for support.

“Well, we will be cited with breaking curfew, and now there are several instances of property damage-”

Goshiki went out the window in rapid time, scaling the building to the ground floor in an instant.

“...Way to overreact,” you murmured, already planning to follow him.

“If we sprint fast enough, they won’t catch us.” Semi had a strong grip on your wrist as he pulled you towards the door, as if preemptively stopping you from scaling down the building as well.

“Aren’t you happy I invited you all to game night?” Tendou groaned as he stretched his back, sliding off of the furniture and slinking over to the door as well.

“Never contact me again unless it’s about practice,” Shirabu grumbled, shoving his way out first as you all followed.

Ushijima promptly shut the door behind your vanishing forms.

The first time it happened, Kageyama just happened to be walking down the steps from the club room. You didn’t acknowledge him as you sped by; granted, barely anyone arrived at school so prematurely.

The first few times he spotted you, he mistook you for some spirit. Any mention of the concept to his teammates left them cracking up, so he never brought it up again.

While you didn’t know him, he got to know you.

Or, at least, assumed he did.

He knew you were a student at Karasuno due to your uniform. You liked arriving at school early. On days he never saw you rushing by, he picked up on the fact that the bike parked in the far corner of the lot was yours.

Beyond that, not much.

Year? No idea, since you weren’t in his class.

Name? Not like he ever managed to get a conversation with you.

Why you were always running in the morning? The answer he’d like to know so bad it irritated him beyond what was rational.

The opportunity finally arose on the worst of days.

Rain pummeled the gym’s roof at a thundering pace. Hinata, the only other person stoked to come to school so early, yelled at Kageyama from across the court. The setter couldn’t hear him over the intensity of the storm, a small grace for the boy.

Tanaka, the one person required for them to gain access to the club room and gym, was most likely cursing at the weather while changing into his uniform.

“Are you even listening to me?! Kageyama!” Hinata huffed.

Kageyama scoffed, waving the orange-haired boy off. “I can’t hear you, dumbass!”

“What’d you say?!”

Seeing no point in continuing an argument where neither one could properly understand the other, Kageyama stormed out to find Tanaka.

From the moment he slammed the sliding door open, he paused.

There you were, stationed under the awning adjoining the gym and the school.

You didn’t glance over, most likely not catching the sound of the door over the rumbling thunder.

For once, Kageyama could see you clearly, not just as a wisp of hair and limbs sprinting by.

You were drenched, your eyes focused on the next dry patch you’d have to reach while racing through the pelting rain.

Your fingers were visibly shaking from the rain as you crossed your arms over your chest, which Kageyama slowly realized was now see-through in the white shirt-

Just as you were about to make that first leap past the protective canopy, Kageyama enveloped you in his jacket.

“Huh?” you squeaked, looking up at him. The boy grew stiff, not expecting the sudden eye contact as you scanned him up and down in alertness.

“You looked cold,” he snuffed, his tone short.

Your shoulders relaxed at that: probably helped that you realized he was a fellow student after the initial surprise.

“Well, I did just bike through a downpour,” you joked, thanking him for his jacket as you wrapped it around you tighter.

“No umbrella?” he said.

“Didn’t think I needed one when I left home,” you replied. “Kinda hard to carry one and bike at the same time, anyways.”

“Do you…inside?”

“What was that? I didn’t catch what you said.” You took a step towards him, even though the two of you were plenty close to combat the deafening rain.

“I said come inside!” Kageyama declared, backing up from your abrupt presence. “Maybe dry off a little before school starts.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” you questioned. “Not sure which sport you’re practicing, but I wouldn’t want to interfere-“

“Volleyball,” Kageyama replied. “You should come watch.”

Your slight smile sent his heart pounding.

“As long as I’m not a bother.”

Kageyama shook his head, walking back to the main entrance as he slid the door open for you.

“The only person bothering me is this guy.” And that is how he introduced you to Hinata, the energetic boy currently lying face-down on the floor as a volleyball slammed into his head, before even giving you his own name.

A significant reason for this is that your parents sent you to school in a whole other town, one where your cousins have experienced the luxury of private schooling their entire lives. And byproduct, so did you.

However, that physical distance between Oikawa and you never persisted into an emotional one. Every break, whether it was a few weeks or merely days, you’d return home and resume life with your parents, with Oikawa, as if you’d never been vacant.

Summer was always Oikawa’s favorite time of the year, and not just because it translated to more hours spent perfecting volleyball techniques. Summer signified the promise of you sticking around for over a month, most of the days spent occupied with the boy next door.

While he’d never say it, Oikawa’s favorite present from you for his birthday was not the alien-themed boxers (that was an embarrassing one to open in front of everyone), the mixtape you procured with all his favorite songs to play during practice, or even the scrapbook with over a decade’s worth of memories.

No, it was the fact that you came home. Summer vacation always began around his birthday, and you’d always attempt to surprise him by showing up on his doorstep, but at this point, he had come to expect it.

The setter had been looking forward to that exact moment all week, much to the jealousy of certain classmates. The only problem was that the clock now read 23:00, signifying the approaching deadline of his birthday.

It was his third and final year of high school, and you were going to miss his birthday.

The cake his mom bought from a beloved bakery sat half-heartedly picked at on his desk, right next to all the dejected birthday letters from his friends and fangirls.

Around the same time last year, Oikawa had been arguing with you over the gameplay of other teams he had recorded to study, all the while you were practically begging for him to put on an actual movie. When he refused, taking claim over the fact it was his birthday, you snatched up your blanket in protest and left him to rot alone on the floor while you pouted in your bed. That was the last time you let him bring any form of media near your computer.

Chuckling quietly at the memory, Oikawa was startled at the sudden jarring sound of something banging.

After scouring his room for what felt like the most intense minutes of his life, the boy finally found the noise’s origin.

Finding himself smirking like a fool, Oikawa shoved his curtains aside. He tried to be annoyed by greeting you with a scowl, though it was more of a downward smile.

You must’ve just gotten home, still adorning your school uniform. Must’ve missed the bus, he mused. Your arm was in mid-motion before you paused, catching his gaze.

“Good, I was worried I’d run out of candy to throw,” you stated when he slid his window open. You were only a few feet away, but the distance felt sadistically cruel when he hadn’t seen you in months. “I had to get my uncle to drive me since the last bus left without me.”

“Why didn’t you knock on the front door?”

“Um, do you see how late it is?” you gawked. “Your mother would skin me alive for causing such a ruckus!”

“Only after giving you a soul-crushing hug.” Oikawa motioned towards his bedroom. “Come on over.”

“What, so I can chill in your room with no lights on, ya weirdo?” You shook your head, sighing. “Let me get changed real quick, seeing as how I’m a little overdressed for the occasion. I see you haven’t changed your routine, Tooru.”

Suddenly remembering how the only article of clothing he had on was underwear, Oikawa fumbled to reach the curtains. You snorted at his attempts.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before!”

“Yeah, when we were children!”

The two of you chatted back and forth while you changed. By the time Oikawa was pulling a shirt over his head, you appeared at the window. If he didn’t know any better, partly due to the fact you’d pull this stunt every year, he’d have thought you jumped over.

“The front door is safer…” he mumbled.

“Relax, it’s not like I scaled the house siding!” Oikawa grabbed hold of your hands as you clambered into his room, kicking off from the ladder. “Now, where’s your phone?”

“That’s all you have to say to me? I see you’re still cruel at heart-” He dashed over to rip his phone from your scheming fingers upon seeing you already located it. Apparently, leaving it face down on the bed was not sufficient camouflage.

“I just wanted to make sure my number’s still saved, seeing as how I’ve sent a gazillion texts saying I’d be late, yet you ignored every single one!”

“It was on silent,” he defended.

“I see you're ignoring your hot bestie, as well.”

“Excuse you?” Oikawa scrolled through his notifications: past the ones from you, he saw a missed call from Iwaizumi. “You better not be talking about Iwa-chan.”

“So what? He’s my type!” you yelled, cringing at the sudden realization of how loud the two of you were being. You only let out a breath when no one in the house stirred.

“You’ve met him only a handful of times!” Oikawa whisper-yelled.

“I’m not saying I’m in love or anything,” you whispered, shaking your head. “But he is my type.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. You took notice, crossing your arms as you scoffed.

“Wow, you can’t handle a single girl not finding you attractive-”

“This is different: Iwa-chan’s like my brother-”

“Guess that makes me,” you pointed to yourself, “your sister-in-law.” You watched as the boy dipped his head, pulling at locks of hair in frustration. “Kidding,” you added, knowing not to push him too far.

“Are you done gushing about my best friend?”

“Yes,” you quietly confirmed, clasping your hands together in front of you.

“Okay,” he breathed once, then twice. “Good to have you back.”

You gasped at the sudden intrusion of personal space when Oikawa wrapped his arms around you. Shock quickly gave way to familiarity as you returned the embrace, pressing your cheek against his chest. Despite the lack of light, you noted the disarray on his desk. While the moment was heartfelt, you felt sorrow burrow its way to your core.

“I see you didn’t finish dessert.”

“Yeah,” he replied. It seemed that was all you would get from him.

“Good thing I took the time to buy ingredients from the store before heading over.” You gently pulled back to meet his gaze. “Surprise! You get to help me create your birthday present.”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“Never stopped us before,” you shrugged, remembering all the past times your kitchen was raided well past acceptable hours. “I don’t know about you, but a warm cake at one in the morning sounds fantastic.”

As you crossed the room and back toward the window, you paused. Glancing around, you knew being late today affected him. Seeing how his stress got to the point of indigestion, you frowned.

You wouldn’t let it happen again, starting with the fact that he was to keep his phone on instead of muted.

“You still out there?” he questioned, wary you may be plotting something.

“Yes, I am!” you huffed. “But my arms are full, so can you open it, please?”

He approached the danger zone once more, accepting the possibility of getting the door slammed into his face when it opened. For good measure, he only nudged it open a crack to peer out.

Standing in the hallway was you, a large box in your hands.

“Here,” you declared, shoving forward the box as he opened the door further, letting you in. “I came bearing gifts.”

“What’s the occasion?” he asked nonchalantly, though he was internally scouring his memories for anniversary dates, birthdays, or any potential reminders that escaped his attention.

“Nothing in particular, just ‘cause.” You moved past him, dropping the mystery gift on his bed. “Now hurry up and open it! I can’t stay long; in fact, I was initially heading over to the convenience store to grab some stuff for our get-together later before deciding to stop here.”

Even if you were only popping by for a couple of minutes, it still warmed Kenma’s heart that you thought of him.

That you cared enough as his partner to make little moments like this count.

Curling back the cardboard flaps, the butterflies swarming in his stomach vanished. Confusion settled in for only a mere moment before dread consumed his every thought.

“Now I know for a fact you can’t say you don’t like it because everything is in your size and style!” Perhaps because you were in a rush or expectant of gratitude, you fell short of detecting his shaking fingers as he held up the first thing in the box.

His scarf. The same one he lent you a while ago when you had swore up and down you weren’t cold, yet didn’t complain when he wrapped it around you. Even nuzzled your face into its warmth.

“It’s all my clothes…” Kenma glanced your way and was petrified to find out you weren’t even looking in his direction; rather, your body was turned towards the exit.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t keep hoarding them forever,” you murmured, trying to stay upbeat but failing.

You were never this quiet.

Rummaging through the box as if desperate to find some answer to his distress, he pulled out countless hoodies, shirts, and even that pair of sweatpants he lent you to sleep in when you stayed the night.

It was the story of your relationship, all wrapped up tightly in a container that now seemed way too small to Kenma, even though he couldn’t carry it with one hand.

You coughed from behind him, drawing his attention back to the situation at hand.

“Anywho, I need to get going. See you later, yeah?!”

You waved goodbye instead of hugging him like you would usually do.

This time, Kenma was the one to reach out first, but you were too far away and already halfway out the door.

“W-wait!”

You paused, swinging your body back to face him as you hung on the doorframe. “What is it?”

“Are you…” He didn’t want to say it. God forbid his assumptions were true. But it was better to spit it out now instead of ruminating on the unknown. “Are you breaking up with me?”

You didn’t say anything.

Instead, you reacted with action, rushing forward to engulf him in an embrace. When you pulled away, you smiled timidly while pushing back his dual-toned hair away from his face.

“Of course not! Why would you think that?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “Unless you want to break up with me? If so, I think you should talk to me first-“

You gasped as he buried his head into your shoulder.

“Don’t say that,” he said, his voice muffled by the fabric of your shirt. “You were the one who started it first, returning all my clothes without warning.”

“Oh, well that’s because…” You trailed off. When Kenma retreated from his comfortable position buried in your shoulder, he found you now gazing at the ceiling. “Don’t make me say it out loud!”

“Say what?”

Now he noticed your fidgety actions and flushed cheeks. You were probably like this the whole time but he failed to notice as he experienced his own turmoil.

“They don’t smell like you anymore, so what’s the point in keeping them when I could give them back to get refreshed?”

Kenma didn’t respond for what seemed like an eternity.

You were the one who had to break the silence.

“Forget I said anything. It’s so embarrassing to say out loud-“

Abruptly, you gasped as your vision turned black.

In an attempt to find air, Oikawa sat up abruptly, falling off what he now recognized as the couch in your living room. It took him another second to calm himself, recognizing he could breathe all along. Nevertheless, he found it fit to complain.

“Didn't know murdering your school’s star volleyball player was on your agenda.”

You shrugged, walking away from the drenched boy to place the now empty bowl on the kitchen counter.

“I think you’re reaching for attempted murder, there. All I did was throw water on you because you weren’t waking up.”

Realization hits Oikawa as he gasps, seeing the sunlight filter through the windows. You don’t stop him as he rushes down the hall to your bathroom. The sudden swearing you hear muffled by the door leads you to assume he only just figured out that getting ready for school here will not be an option.

“I’d run home real fast if I were you!” you yelled, already halfway out the door. “Unless you want to show up to first period wearing the same clothes!”

You made it half a block away before your arm started to tingle. Glancing down, you laughed at the short message, which evidently looked like chicken scratch in his impatience to write it.

Keys to lock door?

Taking out a pen of your own, you wrote on the back of your hand.

Just lock the front and go out the back. Thanks :)

As much as you despised Oikawa for showing up in the middle of the night, you have to admit you had a little bit of fun cooking.

Maybe this friendship, or something even more, could work.

As you expected, Oikawa did not show up for the first or even second class of the day, having decided to spare himself the questions by others of having a wrinkled uniform.

By the third period, you crossed paths. You sent him a sheepish expression before passing by to your next destination. For a split second, you thought he was reaching out, though his hand quickly withdrew as he merely returned a heartfelt smile.

When lunchtime finally came around, you’re surprised to discover Iwaizumi off on his own. You would’ve missed him walking by if it weren’t for his long legs jutted out past the vending machine he decided to cozy up against.

The same one you had bought him a drink from before.

“What, can’t get anyone to lend you some quarters?” you joked as you slid down the wall to sit beside him. He turned his head to face you, a muffled laugh making it past his mask.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“I heard you were sick,” you started, moving your body away from the wall for a moment to rummage through your bag. “So here’s something to make your day better. I don’t see your lunch with you, so perfect timing.”

He eyed the container, taking it from you. “Homemade soup, huh? What’d I do to deserve such a thoughtful gift?”

You watched as he took off the lid.

“Oikawa stopped by last night and wouldn’t leave until I let him in. I guess you can thank him since it was his idea to cook it.” He suddenly paused after you finished speaking. Tentatively, you asked him, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just surprised he could be so considerate after yesterday…thanks for the meal.”

He never got the chance to even taste it.

The moment he removed his mask you gasped. Without hesitation you reached for his face, turning his head back and forth in the palm of your hands.

“What happened?” you demanded, your eyes focused intently on the purplish mark that marred his face.

“You’re gonna get sick-“

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Hajime,” you warned. Your stern expression must’ve convinced him to open up on the matter, albeit nonchalantly.

“Trashykawa and I got into a little disagreement-“

“It doesn’t look like something minor. I don’t see why he would risk getting caught throwing hands, let alone against his best friend!”

“…about you,” he mumbled.

“What?” you asked. “I didn’t catch what you said.”

“I said it was an argument about you!” You flinched back at his sudden outburst. Iwaizumi skirted away from your touch, suddenly finding interest in the floor. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”

You tried to swallow but your throat suddenly felt very dry. “Why was I brought up?”

“Because I let slip that I knew you were his soulmate.”

“But-“

“I know I promised not to say anything!” he interjected. “But I revealed it to him anyway, and he wasn’t keen on me keeping that from him.”

“But I’m the one who told him.”

Iwaizumi finally looked back up at you.

“What?” he said in disbelief.

“I told him in a crude way, I’ll admit, but I told him nonetheless.” You took a deep breath, recalling the middle finger you drew in a petty rage. “So stop with the nonsense excuses and tell me what actually happened, please.”

“If I do I worry you’ll hate me for it.”

“Don’t start with that bullshit,” you stated. “Clearly it was something worrying enough that Oikawa would punch you.”

“He found out about my crush on you.”

You scoffed. “I thought we were done with the excuses.”

“We are.” This time it was you who tried to avoid eye contact. “He confronted me about it and yeah, maybe I like you a little bit. What makes this so hard is the fact you ended up being his. Dating or not, you and Oikawa are soulmates-”

“I'm not having this conversation, Iwaizumi.” You stood up to go. “Please don’t seek me out during breaks anymore, thanks.”

"I've liked you before I found out about your connection to Oikawa!" he called out to your retreating form. "Obviously I would never act on my feelings, but they don't just go away, either!"

You kept walking, not turning back.

You heard from chatter in the hallways that Iwaizumi went home after lunch on account of feeling ill.

He didn’t show up at volleyball practice either. As you strolled by the gym, not seeing him anywhere in sight, your eyes instinctively went to his best friend.

As expected of the team captain, Oikawa was busy conversing with his teammates on the goals for the day. It wasn’t until one of the second-years took notice of you that they called for his attention, pointing towards the door.

Towards you.

You watched with an ache in your chest as his eyes seemed to light up at the sight of you. Taking the opportunity of his coach not yet present, he hurried over to you.

“Y/n-chan!” he sang with a genuine smile on his face. “Wasn’t expecting to see you stop by!”

The last time you were here, he had complained about his soulmate. But now, even with both of your arms bare of any doodles, you still felt that crushing sense of dread.

“You fought with Iwaizumi. Why?”

His smile faded and he retreated a step. You wondered if he was taking the time to calculate a response that would not only keep you content but willing to let that argument slide. But you weren’t going to let that happen, to let him convince you the situation between him and Iwaizumi was fine.

“Until the two of you makeup, I don’t want you near me. Let’s just go back to how it used to be: me, a classmate whose name you can barely recall, and you, one of the popular kids other students are enamored by. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to get between you two.”

And then you walked away.

“Y/n, wait-”

“We have practice, you know!”

You didn’t hear the boy follow you beyond the threshold of the gym, his fellow teammates reminding him of what was important.

Childish soulmate drama can wait.

A week goes by and neither of them contact you. Other than the occasional question that you smear away on your arm or the milk left on your desk by some ‘anonymous’ admirer, you succeeded in deflecting any physical altercation with Oikawa or Iwaizumi.

Around the second week mark, you noticed them hanging out with one another once again.

Everything went back to how it should be. Before Iwaizumi and Oikawa got into a fistfight. Before Oikawa found out you’re his soulmate. And before he got worried when your scribbles, which used to annoy him, stopped abruptly.

It would be as it should have been, with both of you living in your different social circles.

But the silence on both ends could only last so long.

Around the one-month mark, you got cornered by Iwaizumi at the same vending machine where you had your last conversation at.

He didn’t apologize for towering over you or side stepping back and forth to prevent you from fleeing.

Evidently, he was not going to back down.

But neither were you.

“He’s heartbroken you won’t talk to him, you know.”

Iwaizumi didn’t have to say his name.

“We never even dated. Plus, he’s lived his entire life up to this point without me, so I’m sure he’ll be just fine. Now,” you began, bowing your head. “If you’ll excuse me-“

“You’ve been in his life since you were five and painted your entire arm with a permanent marker.” He chuckled quietly. “It took over a week for the tint or blue to vanish from his skin. I can’t imagine the punishment you received for doing that.”

You sighed. “What’s the point you’re trying to make?”

“He needs you. And I get it if my feelings made you uncomfortable, but you know this fighting between Oikawa and me was never gonna separate us permanently. He is my oldest friend, after all.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Anyways…there’s a game Friday, and I know for a fact he’d be thrilled if you came. Just…just give him another chance, yeah? We all do stupid things sometimes.”

“Can you let me through, now? I’ll think about it.”

He shifted to the side as you left him standing there alone without a definite answer.

~~~~~~~~

“You’re gonna owe the entire team a whole five-course meal at this rate, captain,” Matsukawa calls out.

“Sometimes I wonder if you guys have any faith in me,” Oikawa muttered, shaking his head. He flinches when the ball is suddenly in his hands, putting him in the position of serving once more.

Aoba Johsai was on the second set of their match, yet he’s botched every single serve so far. The team found humor in it at first, but their concern grew immensely when he just kept screwing it up.

“Oi, Oikawa!” He looked up to see his friend, the ace, staring him down. “You screw this up in front of even her and maybe the coach will take you out of the game for real since you can't seem to find a grip today.”

“What?”

Smirking, Iwaizumi pointed up towards the bleachers without breaking eye contact.

“Are you really about to let her down? I thought with your cockiness you wouldn’t allow yourself to fail so horribly."

Following his finger, Oikawa lost his breath.

There you were in the stands, a tentative smile on your face. The number one was plastered on the jersey you wore.

His number.

The whistle blew.

Oikawa shook his head, throwing the ball into the air before advancing. The angle and height felt like the best one all day as he served it across the court in an almost spike-like manner.

The crowd cheered as his teammates urged him to pull it off again.

But he wasn’t focused on that; rather, it took his whole being to not run off the court and up into the stands.

You decided to at least try.

And that’s all he needed to know: that there was still a chance for you and him.

“Just because you have a knee injury doesn’t mean you can use it as an excuse for poor passes, Tooru!”

Iwaizumi watched from the far side of the gym as you scolded Oikawa one day.

“What are you gonna do, make me run laps? The doctor told me to take it easy.” The setter stuck his tongue out at you before walking away with a dramatic limp.

Iwaizumi noticed you sigh, most likely letting go of some frustration; however, you didn’t reprimand Oikawa for the attitude. Instead, you set your eyes searching elsewhere.

He quickly caught your gaze, but you only smiled slightly before glancing away.

The awkwardness between the two of you was also something seen as ordinary among the group. But it wasn’t always like that. Thinking back, Iwaizumi recalled the first day he met you.

~~~~

“Iwa-chan! I found someone else who can play volleyball with us!” The seven-year-old Oikawa was sprinting down the paved road without a care for tripping.

And trip he did.

“Watch where you’re going, dummy…” Young Iwaizumi offered his hand to the fallen boy. Oikawa took the help without complaint, his smile still beaming.

“Come on, Iwa-chan! She promised to wait at the court for us, so we need to hurry.”

Not having learned his lesson, he still ran down the street. Iwaizumi sighed, shaking his head before running after his best friend.

Rounding the final corner, the boy paused. A girl his age stood by the net, bouncing their worn-out volleyball against the dirt-packed ground.

Unlike Iwaizumi, Oikawa rushed forward. 

Upon noticing their presence, you pulled the ball away from the over-demanding boy’s grasp, smiling in victory.

“You’re late, Tooru,” you state, nodding in acknowledgement to the new face across the court.

Both Iwaizumi and you started sizing each other up.

“Ah, I forgot!” Oikawa yelled. “Iwa-chan, this is my girlfriend, Y/n.” He was still trying to rip the ball away from you, though you remained defiant.

For an inexplicable reason, Iwaizumi found it hard to breathe.

“I barely consider us friends, let alone special friends,” you declared.

“At least try to back me up in front of Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whined, giving up on snatching his volleyball back. “Whatever, let’s just play.”

“Fine, crybaby,” you tease, drawing your attention away from him. The new boy ‘Iwa-chan’ remained stationary at the edge of the lot. “Iwa, come be on my team.”

Affected by your contagious demeanor, he smiled, stepping towards you.

“I’ll team up against him any day of the week.”

~~~~

“Don’t think I can’t see you slacking off either, Kunimi!” Your voice calling out the first-years brings Iwaizumi back to the present situation.

“I would never do that…” the first-year rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your sharp yet friendly gaze.

“Hasn’t your team captain already spoken to you about this? Just help out with some extra cleaning today, alright? Let’s finish up, everyone!” Clapping your hands together, the team splits up to clean the court for tomorrow.

With the coach not present, you had taken the role of concluding practice.

Iwaizumi approached you from across the gym while his teammates busied themselves cleaning to get home quicker.

“Anything you noticed for me that I could improve on, manager?” Iwaizumi joked with the title, though he frowned as you stiffened.

“Um, I mean you’re doing fine. As always, Iwaizumi.” Your hesitant smile appeared forced as you retreated from him. “I need to go help rally up the remaining balls.”

And just like that, you were racing towards the other end of the gym, scaring poor Kunimi as you nearly tackled him for the volleyball cradled in his arms.

What made the third-year feel dejected was the fact that you appeared standoffish with him was something you did around him and no one else. When conversing with anyone else at school, you were your flamboyant, bubbly self.

But when it came to Iwaizumi…it was only for a short time he experienced the same treatment before you became cold and distant.

~~~~

Flowing water from the creek muffled the sound of Iwaizumi’s footsteps along the bank.

You had gone on ahead on your own, determined to catch a frog.

After a couple of years together, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and you were known as the trio of the neighborhood. At this point, the three of you were inseparable, spending every waking hour outside of school exploring or playing volleyball.

When Iwaizumi finally caught up to you, one of his best friends and secret crush, he was expecting you to turn around and greet him cheerfully.

But you were too focused on the frog jumping away from you, further into the creek.

The boy observed as you step carefully onto a wet rock before fully sending it towards the current.

Under quick thinking, he hurled himself toward you, dragging you back toward the muddy bank.

You fell onto him as his back hit the ground, and pain shot through his skull. But he wasn’t concerned about the dizziness that clouded his vision.

“Are you okay? What were you thinking, trying to jump into the river like that?”

“I’m sorry!” you yelped, climbing off of him before helping him sit up. “I…I didn’t know you were here.”

“Did you at least catch the frog?” Iwaizumi joked. You remained silent. “Y/n?”

“I-I should go find Oikawa. Be right back!” You zoomed off, leaving him behind.

Iwaizumi tried to go after you, but the pounding in his head kept him dormant.

Little did he know that your entire demeanor towards him would shift from then on.

~~~~

Walking home after practice was no different than usual. Oikawa walked in the middle with you and Iwaizumi on opposite sides. Every time Iwaizumi attempted to start a conversation with you, you would deflect with simple answers before drifting off into silence.

“Welp, this is where we split,” Oikawa announced slowly, as if none of them knew where he lived. “So I guess I’ll be heading off then.”

“Yep, see you tomorrow,” you replied, waving him off.

“I can walk you the rest of the way, if you want,” Iwaizumi offered before you walked away.

“Um…” You glanced between him and Oikawa, shifting your footing. “That’s okay, thanks. Have a good night!” You bowed slightly to him before taking off down the street. Iwaizumi felt hurt when you hadn’t bothered to even make eye contact.

“Can’t do shit when you don’t listen to my advice as a wingman,” Oikawa muttered, catching Iwaizumi off guard.

“When did I ask you to be my wingman?”

“Huh?” Oikawa froze for a moment before shrugging it off. “Well, you make your feelings for her obvious, so I thought it’d be obvious to you I’d help.”

“You’re the one she likes,” Iwaizumi says, growing agitated. “You act as if the two of you haven’t been pretending to date for years! Do you have any idea how hurt she must feel when you get an actual girlfriend?”

“Well, I don’t imagine she’ll feel too betrayed,” the setter suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

“Don’t expect me to take your side when she grows resentful,” the boy warned, smacking his friend over the head with his school bag.

“Ow! Don’t be salty, Iwa-chan!”

“Then don’t be a damn idiot.”

A week goes by and suddenly the school is bursting with whispers and giggles. The amount of girls who surround Oikawa seem to grow by the masses, regardless of his attempts to politely shoo them away.

“I don’t even want to imagine what tomorrow will bring,” Hanamaki groaned. “Being single on Valentine’s Day is the worst.”

“I bet you food from the convenience store after practice that Oikawa receives at least twenty chocolates,” Matsukawa wagered.

“That was last year's count; you’re aiming way too low,” his friend argued. “Make it thirty-five and we have a deal.”

Iwaizumi listened to their conversation, half-dreading tomorrow’s school day. A part of him grew fearful of seeing you give Oikawa chocolate, perhaps finally confessing after years of friendship, which would suddenly turn him into a third wheel with unreciprocated feelings.

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Oikawa sat down at the desk in front of Iwaizumi, smiling. It almost felt like he was being mocked.

“Avoid you as much as possible. We don’t have a game, so there’s no need for me to pull you out of your conundrum.”

Oikawa pouted. “Sometimes I feel like you don’t even consider us friends.”

“Say that to the ones who’ve been betting on you.”

Iwaizumi zoned out once more as the bantering got directed elsewhere.

Before he knew it, tomorrow had arrived.

Despite the constant questioning and requests from girls regarding chocolate for Oikawa, Iwaizumi had made it to the final period. He wasn’t planning on prolonging his departure after the bell rings, so he assumed he would be in the clear.

That was, until he heard your voice at the door to the classroom. Turning quickly, he examined you, assessing quickly how uneasy you appeared. Sliding his chair back, he goes to stand before pausing.

“Oikawa! Someone is asking for you!”

His classmate who met you at the door asked for Oikawa directly.

Iwaizumi slid back down into his seat.

As his best friend walked out to the hallway, sliding the door shut behind him, Iwaizumi felt an immense dread course through his body.

You were here to confess to Oikawa, which would inevitably put the setter in a bad spot since he knows Iwaizumi has had a long-time crush on you since childhood.

As expected, Oikawa walked in with a new addition of chocolate and a love letter.

Yet something else to add to his already enormous pile of goodies. Several of his classmates flinched as Iwaizumi slammed his head against the desk.

“That’s gonna leave a bruise…” Oikawa’s voice filtered through the chatter in the classroom.

Iwaizumi didn’t feel like responding, only shifting his head to look the other way.

“I think you’ll want to take a look at this. She put a lot of effort into it, even if this isn’t how we discussed this should happen…” The boy felt Oikawa shove something into his crossed arms.

“Discussed? What are you talking about-”

A little box of homemade chocolates and a letter with his name on the envelope greeted him.

It was your handwriting.

When he looked over, Oikawa appeared disinterested as he stared out the window.

Switching his attention right back to his unexpected gift, Iwaizumi slowly placed the items on his desk. 

With shaky fingers, he unwrapped the letter and began to read.

Dear Hajime, I’m sorry I’m too embarrassed to say this in person. Oikawa will also probably be upset when he realizes I chickened out once again when I hand him this letter to give to you. But I can’t help it because every time your pretty face gets too close to mine I feel like my heart might actually explode. I’ve liked you for years and I still can’t regulate my emotions well enough to act normal around you. By now I’m sure you figured it out. I like you, Hajime. Be my valentine?

The moment the bell rang, Iwaizumi was the first one out the door. Perhaps his teacher yelled at him to walk, but he wasn’t sure.

He went straight for the lockers, knowing you’d most likely be there, changing into your shoes to head home.

“Y/n!” Iwaizumi called out to you. You had been exactly where he thought you’d be.

Panicking, you slipped on your own shoes. Taking a deep breath, knowing there would be no way out, you turned to face him.

Seeing as how you weren’t going to make a run for it, Iwaizumi slowed his approach. With your eyes looking up at him, he saw for the first time why you had turned away all those times. Your cheeks were flushed, and you seemed to have a hard time preventing yourself from fleeing.

“I liked the chocolates.”

“Thanks…What’d you do, scarf them down?” Your laugh sounded awkward. “Anywho, I need to leave for a doctor’s appointment.” You pull your shoe on before shuffling away.

You hear him take a step closer.

“I like you too.”

You were expecting him to maybe spare your feelings, not return them.

“And being each other’s valentines for a day already almost over seems like a waste. How about being my girlfriend instead?”

At this point, you were both nervous.

“That…that would be nice,” you mumbled, still not looking back at him. You yelped as he hugged you from behind. “Iwaizumi, don’t scare me like that!”

“What, is my pretty face gonna give you a heart attack?”

Maybe some details were better left unsaid, knowing now the teasing that would come.

The teacher began the lecture before any other questions could be asked.

Despite purposefully covering as much of his body as possible, the skin visible still appeared blotchy and red. His eyes showed signs of dark bags underneath them, his lack of sleep evident to everyone around him.

Truthfully, Oikawa had pulled an all-nighter. As if going insane, he couldn’t stop drawing all over himself, hoping for you to notice. By the time morning struck, his entire body was covered in ink, yet not a single response from you took up the bare spaces.

Recalling you mentioned meeting at school the following day, he panicked about washing everything off. Oikawa had rubbed his skin down to the point of it becoming raw and pulsating in pain.

However, none of that bothered him because he was too preoccupied with meeting and speaking to you. Perhaps even skipping class if you’d agree to it.

But you hadn’t shown.

By the time lunch rolled around, Iwazumi had rejoined the friend group. Still not over his sickness, he wore a mask, only taking it off to eat.

While the other third years talked back and forth, Oikawa stayed silent, staring at his sick best friend.

Finally having had enough, Iwaizuni sighed, slamming his utensils down.

“What is it, Trashykawa? You’re burning a hole through my face at this point.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa didn’t take notice of the rising tension as it was something they were used to. Iwaizumi could tell that something was amiss, but wasn’t sure what.

“Do you know where she lives?” Oikawa shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, taking another bite of his food as he asked. To any passerby, it would appear to be normal conversation, but Oikawa’s hardened eyes told a different story.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate, but knock it off.” Waving his hands around, the boy brushed them off. “It’s just a question, Iwa-Chan! You guys are just so buddy-buddy, is all, so I thought you’d know.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Then…” Oikawa paused, steadying himself for something he hoped his friend would deny. “Do you have her phone number? You see, my soulmate and I were planning to talk today, but she ended up not coming to school.”

While Iwaizumi stilled, the other third-years tuned into the conversation.

“Since when did you find your soulmate?” Hanamaki asked.

“What are they like?” Matsukawa piped in.

Oikawa didn’t pay them any mind, maintaining his entire focus on Iwaizumi.

“How long have you known?” Iwaizumi deflected any form of eye contact.

Oikawa scoffed, pained laughter vibrating his tightening throat. “What, you’re not going to deny the fact you know? How long were you planning on keeping this hidden? Until she reciprocates your feelings?”

“How did you find out?” He asked the angry boy.

“Do you have a crush on her?”

Oikawa was met with silence.

Without warning, he flung himself forward, punching Iwaizumi with enough force across his jaw that he stumbled backward.

Now recognizing the severity of the situation, the other third-years quickly grab hold of Oikawa. Not once did Iwaizumi attempt to defend himself as the other threw both fists and insults his way.

“You need to chill, dude!” Matsukawa wrapped his arms around Oikawa’s elbows in an attempt to hold him back. “Whatever is going on between you two, you don’t need to figure it out by fighting on school grounds!”

Flinging back, Oikawa lifts his hands in surrender. 

“He knows what he did,” he said, slowly lowering his arms. “But until Iwaizumi decides to stop lying to me, I’m done.”

Leaving the three of them alone, Oikawa storms off. On the way to his next class before the end of lunch, he pauses, seeing the door to the teacher’s lounge propped open.

Letting the impulsive decision-making win, the setter peeks his head in, sliding inside when no one else is present in the hallway.

The room was vacant, indicating a meeting must be taking place elsewhere. Who knew how much time he had.

Oikawa wasn’t sure of what he snuck in for, but he gradually made his way around the desks. It was not the first time he’d been in the teacher’s room, but it definitely was the first without an adult present. Most kids at school would hurriedly tear open drawers in hopes of finding test answers, but Oikawa had a different plan in motion.

Just as he reached his destination, the door slammed open.

“Hey, you shouldn’t be in here!” One of the staff, someone he didn’t recognize, yelled out to him.

Acting as if in surprise, Oikawa accidentally knocks down a sheet of papers propped up on the edge of the desk. He swoops down to hurriedly pick them up as the woman approaches him.

“I’m sorry, my homeroom teacher said they wanted to meet with me, but it looks like they forgot…” He smiled at her, looking around confused. “Since he’s not here, I’ll know not to do it again!”

Placing the paper back on the desk, he bowed, leaving quickly before she realized it would be wise to demand who he was. He was quick enough to run off that she didn’t bother tracking him down for his name and teacher.

Throughout the remaining school day, Oikawa couldn’t concentrate. Iwaizumi and he were ignoring one another, but that wasn’t what clouded his mind.

When he picked up those papers earlier, one of the class’s rosters, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your name.

Underneath the typical information was your address, which was surprisingly only half an hour away from his own on foot.

~~~~~~~~ Feigning sickness to stay home for the day hadn’t been hard, and now you had the whole afternoon and the house to yourself. Having craved something to fend off the nerves of school for tomorrow, you hurried over to the corner convenience store in your comfy clothes.

You ended up buying two pints of ice cream, planning to finish one progressively through the night as you watched your favorite weekly show, saving the other one for yet another stressful day.

Things were going to plan right up until you were back on the same street as your house.

The third-year, brown haired heartthrob was sitting on the steps to your front door.

You had never seen Oikawa in your neighborhood before, especially not perched at your steps, his back against the front door.

It seemed luck was on your side, as the boy didn’t look over when you dropped your bag of ice cream. Your light swearing as you quickly scooped up the bag also didn’t grab his attention, or at least that’s what you thought.

You made it to the back door before realizing you only grabbed the main entrance key when leaving. And sure enough, none of the accessible windows were unlocked.

Sighing in defeat, you trudged back around to the front side of the house. Oikawa was still there to greet you, holding up a bag of his own goodies.

“What a coincidence to see you here, Y/n-chan!”

“What are you here for?” You brush him off coldly, though your fingers shook as you reached out with your key. You weren’t ready to be confronted with what you had decided to do on an impulse.

“Well, I brought some ingredients over to make soup for Iwa-chan. Your boyfriend showed up to school still drained by sickness, so I thought he’d appreciate the sentiment.”

So he wasn’t here to yell or deny anything. Maybe Oikawa hadn’t even realized what you had done. The revelation that you two were soulmates could remain buried.

“I thought I already told you. Hajime and I are just friends. But if you want me to help make him some food, be my guest.” You motioned for him to enter your sacred home, walking in after the boy as he set the bag down in your kitchen.

“First name basis? Since when?” You couldn’t see his face from your position, though he sounded unbothered.

“Um, since he asked me to? We’re in the same grade, so it makes sense to be casual.” You turned on the stove. “Pots are in the bottom cabinet.”

“Well, as long as nothing is going on between you two.” Sensing the sudden mood shift, you paused. “After all, my best friend hooking up with my soulmate would be a pretty sucky form of betrayal.”

Shit, so he does know.

Turning around, Oikawa is already behind you, trapping you between him and the counter. Looking up at him while still deflecting eye contact, you stiffly point back to the entrance.

“I retract my warm welcome. Leave.”

“Come on!” He pulls away as he lifts his hands in retaliation. “I’ve already seen you waltzing around in your sleepwear. Alien shorts are a nice touch, by the way.”

Blushing, you pull your shirt down to cover some of your bare legs.

“What did you come here for, Oikawa? Because if it’s to have a heartfelt conversation, I'm not up for it.”

“I came here to make soup for Iwaizumi as an excuse.”

“Excuse?”

“You promised me you’d show up to school and we could discuss some things. You lied to me,” he pouted. “So I went and bought all of this stuff so there would be a reason to see you. Not making anything now would be an utter waste, would it not?”

“Aren’t you a tad too late for this? It’s a school night.”

“But you already invited me in.”

And so you gave in, much to his delight.

Your kitchen was an utter mess in under an hour. While you had turned on the television in the living room at some point, the show had been long forgotten as you yelled at Oikawa for spilling an entire pot of soup across your swept floors.

“You know what?” you stated, allowing for a state of calm to reestablish itself. “I’m gonna go to the restroom, get ready for bed, and then you are going home. This is a mess.”

The boy laughs. He was already on his third kitchen rag, its fabric soaked just like the initial other two. “I’ll have it spotless before you’re back.”

By the time you had returned, Oikawa had lived up to his promise of cleaning the mess he had made. However, he wasn’t in the kitchen waiting to depart; rather, he found his way to your couch and passed out.

“Oikawa, you need to get up…” You gently shake him, though he doesn’t budge. For a split second, you contemplate shoving him off the couch, but the bags under his eyes stop you. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all the previous night, no doubt due to you dropping the fact that you're his soulmate without warning.

So, retreating to your room, you return with a fresh blanket. Oikawa does not startle when you drape it over him.

“Sleep well,” you whispered, knowing full well he is going to have body aches in the morning from sleeping in your cramped living room.

Morning shall be interesting.

Getting frustrated at the silence, the setter threw his pillow, which promptly smacked Iwaizumi across the face as if it were made out of concrete.

The third-year boy stood up so fast that Oikawa yelped.

“What’s that on your arm?”

“What, is there a mark?!” Not noticing the flat tone in his friend’s voice, the boy inspected his body. “Point it out, I don’t see anything.”

“You’re so gullible, Trashykawa.”

“Quit it with the nicknames!”

“Whatever. I’m heading to the bathroom.” Before he could protest further, Iwaizumi cut him off with the slam of the door.

Suddenly face-to-face with himself in the mirror, Iwaizumi stared hard.

He stared at the obvious guilt that wouldn’t leave his face.

Guilt at the fact that, given the countless opportunities, he hadn’t admitted once to Oikawa that he knew who his soulmate was.

When he returned to the living room, he found Oikawa with a pen, scribbling away at his skin. He failed to miss the sad smile his friend wore while drawing a small frowny face with a question mark.

It reminded him of your tear-stained face as you fled that day.

Just as quickly as it appeared, the drawing faded away. Wherever you were, you had been quick to notice and erase the soulmate marking.

Oikawa’s upturned lips shifted down. “Where are you?” he murmured, sighing as he threw the pen across the room. “Why won’t you talk with me?”

“Hey,” Iwaizumi spoke up. By the time Oikawa met his gaze, a fake smile plastered his face. Knowing that look all too well, Iwaizumi jutted his chin towards the back door. “Let’s go play a round of volleyball.”

~~~~~~~~

When the weekend was over and the first bell of the day rang through the halls, Iwaizumi couldn’t help but watch you scurry by and enter one of the classrooms down the hall from his own.

“Whatcha staring off to space for, dude? You know this teacher doesn’t tolerate tardiness,” Hanamaki patted him on the shoulder as he walked into their shared homeroom.

“Just lost in my thoughts about the upcoming game, is all.”

Throughout the whole class period, the boy couldn’t get thoughts of you out of his head, and how you hadn’t even turned his way when rushing by.

As soon as they were dismissed, he rushed out, ignoring the confused questions by his friends.

You had just left your classroom at the same time, laughing at something your friend said.

“Please tell me you didn’t actually say that to him,” you stressed, shaking your head.

“What do you mean? Of course, I did! You saw how he embarrassed me during karaoke!”

“Hey, wait up!” someone called out from behind you.

Your friend didn’t stop walking, and you normally wouldn’t have either, but you panicked. Noticing you paused, they turned back to see what was wrong.

“Why’d you stop?” Now, your friend froze too, eyeing up the boy approaching. Without glancing back, you could sense his eyes burning a hole into your back. “Since when did you get friendly with someone on the volleyball team? Or is it some of your demons finally catching up to you?”

“I’ll meet up with you later, okay?” You smiled, refusing to answer their questions.

“Fine, but text me all about it, yeah?” They half-waved, running to catch up with someone else they knew.

“Hey, can we talk-” Feeling the sudden weight on your shoulder, you swerved around. Iwaizumi quickly retreated his outstretched hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You stared back at him, not responding.

“Um…do you mind if we go somewhere to chat? I have some things I want to ask…you.”

“It’s Y/n,” you declared.

“What?”

“We’ve been classmates for over three years, and you don’t even know my name.”

“Well, we’ve never had a class together…” Seeing your deadpanned face, he paused, his confidence deflating. “When?”

“First year, science class. Oikawa and you were in a different group, but we still had the class at the same time. With the same instructor. In the same room.”

“Alright, I get it!” He stammered, his cheeks flushed from potential embarrassment. Several students looked over, the majority due to him and you taking up room in the middle of the hallway. “Can I please just talk to you, even for a minute, Y/n?”

“You do realize we have class in about two minutes, yes?” You were already starting to strut away.

“Skipping a class or two has never hurt anyone,” he reasoned. Iwaizumi had noticed the signs of you retreating just like before, and he was growing desperate to keep you talking longer. To maybe open up to him.

“Tell that to my cousin, who was grounded for two weeks.” 

And just like that, you were gone, blending in with the rest of the students.

Throughout the week, Iwaizumi kept approaching you, and each time you evoked your right to stay silent on the matter. No matter how he worded it, he just couldn’t get you to agree to a conversation.

Arriving at practice later one day, after his countless failed attempts at getting closer to you, the first thing Iwaizumi noticed was the whispering.

“Has he really gone crazy?”

“Don’t say that about our captain!”

The first-years whisper-argued to one another, ignorant to the fact their older teammate just arrived. Iwaizumi goes to yell at them to warm up and quit with the chatter but stops as he notices his friend.

Oikawa, despite knowingly becoming a spectacle, was drawing random things all over his legs. Sweat dripped down from his brow, indicating he had been in the gym practicing long before the others showed up.

He approached his best friend, a frown already forming. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa tilted his head, smiling. His seemingly harmless glare toward the first-years shut them up fast before he stood up. “Didn’t think you’d be showing up to practice today after how busy you’ve been.”

“You act like we shouldn’t be studying for the upcoming exams.”

“Oh?” Oikawa bent down to pick up a volleyball, throwing it Iwaizumi’s way. “Does that involve following around our classmate? Too bad she doesn’t seem interested in studying with you.”

The third-year halted, missing the ball Oikawa tossed his way.

“What, think I wouldn’t notice? Do you have a crush on her or something? I don’t think she’s been involved with any of my fanfare, so you should be good to go for it.”

Scooping the ball up from the floor, Iwaizumi hurtled it so hard into Oikawa’s gut that he leaned forward in pain.

“If you’re capable of spouting such bullshit, then I don’t see the problem with you running a couple extra laps!”

“You don’t look like the coach to me,” Oikawa wheezed, still trying to catch his breath after his lungs were crushed by the sudden impact. “Can’t you take a joke? I’m just teasing you, you know that. Besides, my eyes are set on one person, and one person only…only if they’d reveal themselves.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes lowered to the temporary tattoos Oikawa had given himself. Despite how ridiculous he looked, Iwaizumi did not miss the fact it had all been done with the same ink.

You had not responded. Not even once.

“...Whatever, let’s just get started,” he stated, letting up on bullying Oikawa as the guilt resurfaced in his mind.

Another week went by before Iwaizumi finally got somewhere with you.

It was lunchtime, and you were studying in the library. When you heard the chair across from you slide against the floor, you sighed but didn’t look up.

A few minutes went by in silence before you tore out a page in your notebook, quickly writing your thoughts down.

‘What’s your reasoning this time?’

You pushed the single sheet across the table, going back to reading. When nothing happened, you panicked, terrified it was some random student sitting in front of you.

Slowly but surely, you looked up, ready to apologize; however, you found yourself breathing in relief when you see your persistent stalker.

“I don’t have anything to write with,” he whispered, so you promptly handed over your pencil before refocusing on your studies.

It wasn’t long before the familiar piece of paper found its way into your eyesight.

‘You look nice today :)’

Shaking your head, you write a reply.

‘Thanks, it’s the same thing every other girl in school wears.’

Sliding the note back, you heard a quiet chuckle.

Suddenly feeling flushed, you snatch the paper back before he can write something down.

The boy stayed silent while you quickly packed everything up, heaving your backpack onto your shoulder. When you finally looked at him fully, he was still seated.

“Well, you coming?” you whispered, inclining your head toward the exit.

Iwaizumi, not wanting to waste his chance, followed you silently. He accepted the drink you bought for him from the vending machine without a single complaint.

“You got five minutes,” you said.

“Are you enjoying the weather?” He cringed at his own comment, taking a sip of his drink.

“So you’ve decided to waste it with pointless conversation fillers.”

Taking a deep breath, Iwaizumi prepared himself for whatever would happen next.

“What’s going on with you and Oikawa?”

Already having expected that, you smirked.

“Other than the fact we’re soulmates?” You watched as the boy deflected his gaze to the birds flying by. “Nothing, since he clearly doesn’t want to address me about it.”

“What do you mean? He’s been trying to reach you every day to the point where he’s gotten several warnings by our coach.”

“If you’re referring to all of the drawings on our skin, that’s payback for me doing it to him a while back.”

“But Oikawa doesn’t see it that way,” he clarified. “He’s so desperate to find out who you are that he’s been acting dumber than usual.”

You nearly gave yourself whiplash with how fast you looked in his direction.

“You didn’t tell him?” It felt as if a thousand thoughts were going through your head at once, none of them giving you a clear reason for how Oikawa didn’t know.

“Of course not!” You flinched at how adamant Iwaizumi was of that fact. “That’s completely up to you.”

“I just figured,” you started, shrugging. “You two are close friends, so I assumed you told him that day of the game. I mean, he was right there when you found out. He’s your best friend.”

“You didn’t look happy about it,” he mumbled, stepping forward. His shadow devoured yours as you instinctively took a step back. Realizing your discomfort, he went to sit on the floor, suddenly way shorter.

“What are you doing-”

“All that matters to me is that you’re comfortable,” Iwaizumi declared, swiftly nodding once. “If you don’t want him to find out, then I promise to stand by you on the decision.”

Finally finding a sincere smile, you crouched to meet his level. 

In that moment, he suddenly found it hard to breathe.

“Thanks, Iwaizumi. I guess I’ll make a promise to you that I’ll stop pretending you don’t exist since you’ve done me a favor.”

“Hajime,” he softly said, half-hoping you hadn’t heard him.

“What?”

“If you’re finally going to stop avoiding me,” the boy bargained, preparing himself to be let down. “Then call me Hajime.”

Giggling, you offered him a hand to stand up.

“See you tomorrow, Hajime.”

~~~~~~~~

Despite the heartfelt conversation the two of you shared, Iwaizumi hadn’t approached you all day, nor had you caught sight of him during lunch. Perhaps you had finally scared him off.

For some inexplicable reason, you found yourself waiting at the school gate.

“Hey, Y/n-chan!”

A shiver ran down your spine. However, the sound of your name coming from him for the first time was oddly satisfying.

Turning around, you waited as Oikawa jogged up to you. He was dressed in the school sweats and jacket, which must’ve been suffocating for the current weather.

“How are you alive?” You shifted all of your weight onto one foot, readying yourself to bolt the other way.

“Well, I suppose it’s because I have two lungs and a beating heart?” He grinned that fangirl-swooning smile you oh so despised.

“Um, what?” Perplexed, you halted your movements, coming to a stilled position.

“You asked how I’m alive, but I guess that’s more of a brain responsibility, huh? Or wait, maybe it has to deal with my consistent good habits…” He kept talking.

Shit, you had said that out loud.

“Listen, Oikawa-san, I really need to get going-”

“Your boyfriend stayed home today. Terrible fever, truly.”

You froze.

“What did you say?” Although confused, you worried about what Oikawa was insinuating.

“Look, I get it! You guys probably wanted to keep it a secret, but Iwa-chan can’t get anything past me! But don’t worry,” he whispered, sending you an obvious wink. “I won’t say anything until you two decide to reveal the relationship.”

“You think we’re dating? Me and him? Iwaizumi?” With each word, you felt your chest close in.

“Oops, has he not confessed yet?” 

Oikawa did not look apologetic in the slightest.

Without pausing to think of the repercussions, you pulled out a marker from your backpack. Oikawa was far away enough that he couldn’t decipher what you were doing, only that you were suddenly drawing on your inner arm, the tip a similar vibrant blue to Aoba Johsai’s school color.

“You want an answer to that?” you said calmly while continuing to work on your masterpiece. “Come find me tomorrow.”

“Uh, okay.” Oikawa called out to you just as you were departing from the school entrance. “Oh, and one more thing, Y/n-chan!”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s be friends from now on.”

You didn’t respond as you took off running down the sidewalk.

Adrenaline pumping with anger now shattered, you decided then and there that you would not be attending school tomorrow. Regardless, the damage had been done.

Meanwhile, when Oikawa got home, the first thing he did was get ready for the shower. After spending so much time with Iwaizumi, he was not going to risk catching a sudden cold.

Pulling his shirt off, he threw it in the laundry bin. Making it almost all the way to the shower, he froze at catching something foreign in his mirrored reflection.

With trembling fingers, he traced the drawing on his inner arm: a comically emoji-like fist, the middle finger prominent.

“Oh, really? Then there shouldn’t be a problem.” Stepping back, Iwaizumi motions for another third-year. “Matsukawa.”

“Got it,” the boy said.

“Got what?” Oikawa didn’t seem to like where this was going.

“You wanna daydream about who your soulmate might be? Fine.” Iwaizumi shrugged, Matsukawa and Hanamaki grabbing hold of Oikawa’s arms before he could react. “Just do it on your own time. For now, we’re just gonna help you get over this hurdle.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the building, you were sprinting down the halls. The current matches scheduled for the day were already going, and you were running late.

You could hear the sounds of shoes squeaking against the gym floor as you dashed up the stairs to the bleachers. Unlike your usual placement, you sat in the public area, the school section already full, which wasn’t an unusual occurrence. A couple of girls from neighboring schools did a double take when you passed by, whispering to one another.

“You don’t think?”

“Of course not, it’s probably just a public stunt to gather attention.”

You didn’t bother turning their way to get some context, seeing as how their conversation didn’t seem to be about you, even though their glares while you shimmied by told you otherwise.

Once you settle in, five minutes seem to go by before the two of them start shouting.

“Go, Oikawa!”

Drifting your eyes to watch your school team, you see the infamous setter up to serve. As he throws the volleyball up into the air before slamming it across the court, you can barely focus on anything beside him, even as the onlookers cheer when he gets the point without interference from the other team’s receivers.

While hard to see from so far away, something black stained his face.

Suddenly nauseous, you rub your cheeks aggressively. When you pull your hands back, they have a slight black tint to them.

No one seems to notice when you rush out of the gym.

The restroom was vacant when you bursted through the door. As you swore under your breath, you turned on the faucet.

In the mirror, clear as day, was a drawn, filled-in black heart on your left cheek.

You started to weep as each scrub-down with the soap didn’t seem to erase it.

It was permanent marker.

“This can’t be happening…” you mumbled over and over again.

As you kept wiping away at your face until the skin became raw, you thought back to last year when everything started to go downhill.

~~~~~~~~

Thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes until class was over and summer vacation starts. You would officially be in your final year of high school.

Like most other students in your class, you weren’t paying attention to a single thing the teacher was relaying for summer work.

You smirked at the little alien you drew on the back of your hand, completing the mural of your entire right arm.

For the remainder of class, you scribbled nonsense onto your left arm to match the random sketches and math problems on the other half of your body.

The bell rang right as your pen refused to give any more ink.

Covering up the temporary arm sleeves with a light jacket, you raced to leave, passing the outdoor gym.

That’s when you heard it: his voice.

Oikawa Tooru was a second-year student, just like you, but in a different class.

“Look at what they did!” he whined, his arms flailing above his head.

From the open gym door, you saw all the doodles you had done earlier, only they weren’t on your body.

They were on his.

“Um, Oikawa-San…” You slowly walked in before thinking otherwise. You had just discovered who your soulmate was, and it was one of the most popular boys in school. No one seemed to notice you as he kept yelling.

“They’re really starting to piss me off!” Oikawa huffed in frustration. “I mean seriously, I look like I’ve been graffitied all over!”

“Maybe they’ll put you in an art gallery one day.”

“Very funny, Hanamaki. Whoever this is, they seriously need to consider getting new hobbies.”

“Shouldn’t you be ecstatic, Trashykawa? They’re reaching out to you,” Iwaizumi said. He went to hurl the ball at his annoying face before noticing you standing at the doorway.

“You can’t be serious, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa continued. “Now, I have to waste precious practice time to go wash this off before ink poisoning sets in.”

Your slightly teary eyes met him when he turned.

It was the first time your soulmate made eye contact with you, and you were on the verge of tears.

The worst part was, they weren’t because of some unexplainable happiness.

“Um…” You didn’t know what to say as your voice faltered. Some of the boys started to whisper to one another.

“Here it comes…”

“Another confession…”

“It’s the fifth one this week!”

“Were you looking for me?” Oikawa’s scowl moments ago turned into that flawless smile he gave all his fangirls.

His sudden change in demeanor gave you whiplash.

“Just, um…have a good break!” you yelled, bowing stiffly before racing off.

You hadn’t talked to him since.

~~~~~~~~

Aoba Johsai came out on top once again.

Before the bus would arrive, Iwaizumi walked off to find a restroom. As he rounded the corner, someone rushed out of a room, slamming into him. He barely catches them in his arms as he realizes it’s you.

“Hey, are you alright?” Iwaizumi’s first thought was that you had been crying, your eyes red and your cheeks puffy. Even though he was used to seeing you from afar, he could tell you’re the girl who always watches their games from the school section.

While he wouldn’t outright admit it, a part of him wondered where you had been today.

“I’m fine,” you managed to say with an even voice. Bowing slightly, you go to leave.

Without thinking, Iwaizumi tightens his grip on your wrist, yanking you back towards him.

“I said I was fine, thank you,” you tentatively declare.

That’s when he noticed the smudged heart on your left cheek. The same one his teammates had drawn and made fun of earlier as it slowly smeared across Oikawa’s face during the match. 

“Um, can you please let go?” Trying to force your arm back felt like contending with a statue.

“How long have you known-”

“Iwa-chan! You ready to leave?!” Iwaizumi flinches at the sound of Oikawa approaching from behind them, effectively cutting him off.

Taking that chance, you slide out of his grip.

“Hey, wait-” was all the boy could get out before you broke eye contact, running off with your face cast downward.

“Oh, is our Iwa-chan finally understanding the pain of having to let a girl down? I hope you did it gently, but knowing your attitude…” Oikawa sighs, shaking his head. 

Iwaizumi didn’t respond.

“Iwa?” Scared he had teased his friend too far, Oikawa stepped back. “Remember, you can’t hit me too hard since we have another game tomorrow.”

Iwaizumi remained frozen, his brain repeating those brief moments of desperation to escape written on your face the moment Oikawa walked up.

In that moment, Iwaizumi realized what had occurred: Oikawa was your soulmate, but you didn’t seem thrilled by the revelation.

And here the idiot was, unaware of it all.