never change

“kuroo!” yaku yelled, brandishing his towel. “you need to get a grip. stop freaking out. you’re supposed to be the composed one!”

“seriously kuroo,” kenma agreed, “why are you acting so surprised. it’s not like this is new news.”

“guys,” kuroo began, raking a finger through his hair, “this messes up everything.”

“is this about y/n?” lev asked, finally entering the locker room. “did kuroo finally do something about that crush?”

“enough!” kuroo sighed, sitting down at one of the benches. in the span of the last ten minutes, kuroo had one of the most dramatic realizations of his life.

he liked you.

you, his best friend and his other half. you, who cheered for him at every game and even lended him cool analogies to use in captains speeches. you, who stole his jacket and ran away from him, leaving him to chase you as far as the two of you could run.

he wasn’t sure what had changed. somehow, you’d entered his head, and with every pump of his heart, you sunk deeper and deeper into his bloodstream.

“did you seriously not know?” yaku asked gently, “because if you ask us, it was obvious from the very start. you hold them in such high regard.”

“i didn’t,” he admitted, turning to meet yaku’s eyes. “i didn’t know and now, i don’t know what to do. we’ve been friends for ages….i don’t even think they see me that way.”

“just tell them kuroo,” kenma said, not looking up from his console. “they like you a lot, they’re not going to say no.”

the team voiced their agreement, and began to file out of the locker room at last.

“sorry to keep you waiting,” he smiled, meeting your gaze as he walked out of the locker room.

“no problem,” you said, returning a grin of your own. “was there something going on in there?”

“nahhhhh,” he laughed, “someone was just having a meltdown about how to do a proper confession.”

“confession?” you rose a brow, and kuroo silently cursed himself for letting such a specific detail slip.

for a moment, you were stunned. as you walked, you considered all the possibilities.

you knew lev had been racking up quite the fanbase through his games, and you also knew how yaku was starting to branch out a bit more. if kenma had a prospective partner, you would’ve already heard of it by now.

unless…unless it was kuroo having the meltdown.

you pondered this detail as you walked out of the school doors, holding them open for your lanky best friend.

“hey dork,” you began, “who are you planning on confessing to? it was your meltdown, right?”

kuroo felt his heart drop in his chest. curse you and your quick connections.

“what makes you think the meltdown was mine?”

“because i would’ve known about everyone else,” you smiled confidently. “you would’ve told me.”

kuroo simply looked at you, distracted by your smile and the way it lit up your eyes. if only he could put it into words.

you had a way of making him nervous.

“i’d tell you details if you stopped smiling at me like that. too bright — it’s hurting my eyes.” he teased.

what he didn’t expect was for you to laugh and immediately drop your smile, transitioning to a serious face.

“tell me now,” you huffed, “i deserve to know who’s on your mind these days.”

he sighed.

if there was one thing worse than your uncanny ability to read his mind, it was the lack of that ability to tell that you were the only person he ever thought about.

kuroo got home, resting his bag on the floor of his room and immediately dialing kenma. he picked up in an instant, and kuroo couldn’t help but be thankful for his setter.

“kenma,” he sighed, “this is like one of your games. impossible.”

“let me guess. y/n didn’t catch a hint?”

“they know it’s me” he groaned, “they know i had the meltdown. they know there’s someone in my head. they keep trying to ask me who it is, but i can’t just say ‘it’s you’ can i?”

“being direct is actually a good idea.” kenma suggested, “go retry that level kuroo. maybe you’ll have some luck this time.”

with that, kenma hung up, leaving kuroo frenzied with an emotion that felt a lot like hope.

sitting and staring out the window, you wondered if now was a good time to acknowledge your growing crush on nekoma’s middle blocker.

he was everything you could ever ask for. thoughtful, sweet, laughably charming, and with a nerdy twist that made him a dork and undeniably your other half.

it didn’t help how handsome he’d become over the years either. he’d gotten taller and taller, his eyes golden and his hair endearingly messy. he was solid from all the days spent practicing, and after every embrace, you were left craving more.

as much as you didn’t want to admit your discomfort, the sensation hovered over you like a fog.

the idea of kuroo having feelings for someone else was bittersweet. you adored him — you really did, and his happiness was yours.

but….you couldn’t help but wish that you could both be happy. that he’d see you the way you’d always seen him.

someone to just keep falling for.

the next morning, kuroo came to grab you from your house for the daily walk to school. he’d made an effort to make sure his tie was on incorrectly in the hopes that you’d fix it for him.

you greeted him at the door, breaking into a grin upon seeing his disheveled state.

“come inside,” you sighed, dragging him by the hand into the foyer. he stood patiently as you reached for his tie, straightening out the edges and meticulously smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt.

“it’s almost like we’re married.” he teased, happy at the flustered expression that shot onto your features. “what? cat got your tongue?”

“shut up tetsu.”

“i don’t want to.” he said, looking into your eyes. he hoped that there was something conveyed in the silent space between you. the tenseness was all but palpable.

“oh.” you whispered, cupping his cheek. “so this is your confession? a messy tie and a lot of cheek.”

“of course,” he smirked, “you’re the only person i’d do that for.”

Naturally, you reckoned you were bound to see the dreaded flier sooner or later. It sat there still, taped onto the tiny bulletin board outside of the Organic Chemistry I room. It was the worst godawful flier you’d ever seen in your life. In front of you was a myriad of colorful borders, and even more whimsical fonts atop of a cardstock page. It seemed to call out to you with its boldness, as if to say “kiss me” with its scrawling typography. 

Mystic Kissbooth, it read in an infuriatingly ornate font. Come and kiss your woes away (and kiss ours away too – a mutually beneficial fundraiser!) 

“I see you’ve seen our handiwork,” chuckled a voice. You didn’t have to turn around to recognize Kuroo, who simply leaned against the bulletin board in an attempt to catch your expression. 

Not that he would. You weren’t going to give him that luxury. 

“No wonder it’s such shit,” you laughed, gesturing to the list of names at the bottom, “I’m honestly ashamed to even know you.”

“Hey,” he frowned playfully, ruffling your hair as he began his signature large strides. Curse him and his stupidly long legs. “That was heavily inspired by your Canva templates…..you know….the bad ones.” 

You let out a long and dragged out sigh while you followed your best friend (unfortunately) to one of the secluded benches on campus. Beneath the hustle and bustle of students as they sprinted to class, it was almost peaceful to rest your legs for just a moment. 

Relaxing onto the bench, you placed your backpack at your side, creating a wedge between you and Kuroo, who’d taken the seat right next to you. He didn’t seem to mind, simply casting a grin in your direction. 

For starters, you weren’t sure how to feel about the Canva invasion. Yes, it was a design platform, and yes, you’d tried (and failed sometimes) to create infographics whenever Kuroo needed a helping hand. It was just a tad surprising to discover that Kuroo had drawn his inspiration from your least successful works. 

“What’s this whole thing about?” You decided on asking after a lengthy pause. Kuroo cast his gaze to meet your own, his grin almost glued into place. 

“Well, not that we’re in any trouble, but the volleyball club could use some funds. We’ve been trying to set up some pretty competitive matches and practice games, but we need the fuel to do it. Oikawa thought this was a great way to make use of all the attention we have.”

“No wonder. He’s probably the most popular one on the team….though Iwaizumi is honestly the one to be looking at.” 

“Rude,” Kuroo huffed, “There’s a lot of other people to be interested in, you know.”

“Hopefully you don’t mean yourself,” you chuckled, dodging a playful hit on the arm from Kuroo. “But in all seriousness, a kissing booth?” Kuroo paused for a moment, seemingly mulling over a proper response, when Iwaizumi entered your frame of vision. 

There were times you wondered why Iwaizumi Hajime didn’t consider a career in modeling. From where he stood, the sunlight almost seemed to caress his skin, tanned and sun bronzed from a summer spent playing volleyball on the beach. Upon seeing you and Kuroo on the bench, he extended a quick wave before jogging over, arms flexing as he got closer. 

“Stop ogling him,” Kuroo smirked, “You could stand to be a bit less obvious.” “Shut up,” you muttered just as Iwaizumi ended his jog to stand in front of you. 

“Nice to see you here,” he beamed, his eyes meeting your own, “I barely see you around these days. Did Kuroo scare you away from the club?” “No not at all,” you smiled, moving your backpack to make space for the handsome spiker. Some of the students on the nearby path stopped to turn at the three of you, and Iwaizumi, none-the-wiser, took a swig from his water bottle. 

He was never aware of the effect he had on people. That was exactly what contributed to his charm. 

“Y/N wanted to know a bit more about the booth,” Kuroo started. “I think you’d explain it better than I could.” 

Iwaizumi raised a brow, “It’s just a club fundraiser. I mean, it's the only decent idea that Oikawa’s had in a while.”

“So he really was involved, huh.” You said (more to yourself than anyone else). The two men looked at you confusedly, before Kuroo finally spoke. 

“You know, you always seem to get a bit fidgety whenever someone mentions Oikawa. And you always try to be away from him when you come to our practices…were the two of you involved or something? Because if you were, I am honestly offended you didn’t tell me.” 

You aggressively shook your head no, warranting a chuckle from Iwaizumi. “Well, if they were, I think it’s had an impact. You start to see him for who he really is.” 

The three of you laughed, choosing to enjoy the fresh breeze. 

However, even despite the simple beauty of this moment, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about the booth.

Oikawa stood at the front of the lecture hall, spinning his pen while meeting the eyes of his teammates. At his side was Kuroo’s flier, whimsically colorful in all the ways a magical kissing booth (like this one) was supposed to be. Iwaizumi sat in the front, close enough for Oikawa to catch the teasingly judgy stares of his best friend while he waited for everyone to settle down. 

Finding a free lecture hall had been no problem. All he’d had to do is smile nicely at a few eager students, verify with a few professors, and send a frantic “MEET NOW” to the club group chat. 

The real problem was convincing the rest of the team of this idea in the first place. 

“Hey guys,” he beamed, putting the flier down on the desk closest to him, “Thanks for showing up on such short notice. You guys are the best.” 

“We didn’t come for you,” Makki snickered. “We’re just here to see what crazy justification you have for this.” “Well,” he began, “We’ve been in the spotlight for quite some time now. A lot of us have been featured in the campus newspaper, we’ve made it onto our university’s podcast, and have you even seen the instagram fanpages for us? They’re absolutely insane. So, what better time to take advantage of this?” 

“And this has nothing to do at all with the rumors?” A voice asked. Oikawa turned to meet the eyes of Semi Eita, who sat on the left corner closest to the door. 

The team laughed as Oikawa shook his head in faux denial. “Absolutely not. Why would I ever do such a thing?” 

“Because you're smart!” Oikawa was almost surprised to hear the remark from Bokuto, who sat near Kuroo with his own flier. “And it’s a lot of fun.” 

The team murmured their respective agreements before the room fell silent again. Oikawa, ever the opportunist, slid into the silence with an explanation. 

“I was thinking we set it up as sort of a de-stress day after midterms. We could get the other clubs to join in their own mini fundraisers…like a carnival of sorts. We’ll set up the booth with colorful signs and posters, and we kiss based on the cash. We can take shifts to make sure the two of us aren’t running the whole show. All proceeds are for our matches and practice games. Sounds good?” “A question. Are you going to make people line up to kiss you?” Matsukawa asked casually. 

“You mean us Mattsun. And yeah, a line works just fine.” Oikawa stopped for a moment to admire the unanimous cooperation of his team. “I’ll talk to the other club leaders and see if we can come up with a date. If that’s all the questions you’ve got, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow!” 

With this, his team filed out the door. He caught Kuroo animatedly discussing a design to attract customers to their booth with Bokuto, mentioning that he had a friend who’d know just what to do about it. In the midst of his rant, he’d mentioned a name. 

Yours. A name he hadn’t realized he missed hearing. 

A faint smile crept onto his face at the thought.

Kuroo was a menace. From the minute he’d found you at the library, he’d been nagging you the entire day, practically begging for you to come to their practice. 

“Y/N please,” he whined, attempting his own version of a pout, “If you see us, you could help design the poster to attract customers.” “I don’t think you need help with that.” That much was true. Especially with Oikawa headlining the event. They were guaranteed strong profits. 

Somehow in the midst of all this pleading, you’d ended up right outside the gym. The sounds of volleyballs hitting the wooden floors resonated off the walls, the sound so clear that you could hear it from your spot near the door. 

“You planned this,” you glared, watching Kuroo’s smile twist into one of faux innocence. Bastard.  

“What can I say? I am the master of distraction.” He opened the door, swapping his shoes out at the front and walking into the gym to the greetings of his team. You followed closely behind him, carefully striding across the polished wood and shutting the door behind you. 

The gym had always been grand. Your university’s colors were plastered onto the bleachers, with a wide curtain separating the different sides of the gym. There was space – so much of it – and the team spread out to practice various skills. 

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself the childish awe of standing in a space so big. 

“I forgot how long it’s been since you’ve been here,” a voice greeted, “But it’s good to see you Y/N.” You knew that voice. You’d know that voice like the moon knew the stars. You’d know it anywhere. 

“Oikawa,” you said, turning to acknowledge the brown-haired setter. “Long time no see.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you drank him in. He seemed to be in high spirits this afternoon, hair artfully tousled in the way he always did, and lips so perfectly smooth that they seemed out of a Chapstick ad. 

“You don’t really come around anymore,” He said, taking to walking with you around the gym (much to your own surprise). “I was getting a bit worried actually.” 

“What do you mean?” You stared at a spot a bit beyond the setter, watching Bokuto’s cross court spike slam into the floor with dizzying speed. 

“Well….we talked a bunch. And you came here at the beginning of the year. You suddenly stopped though….so I wondered if something happened.” 

“You noticed?” You scoffed. “I’m surprised you paid attention.” 

“Why wouldn’t I pay attention?” Oikawa raised a brow in confusion before suddenly, the answer seemed to smack him in the face. “You’re petty about that?”

“You barely paid me any mind,” was all you said, meeting Oikawa’s warm gaze, “It was like we’d never met at all.”

You’d met Oikawa Tooru on the flight to university. You’d waved your family goodbye at the gate, hugging them tight to your chest and memorizing the feel of them against you. 

You walked steadily, pulling your suitcase along as you made your way to the security check in. 

“Everything goes in a bag! Belts, shoes, phones! Take off your shoes and step aside. Laptops can stay in your bags! Move along!” 

You hauled your suitcase into the bin, placed your phone and wallet beside it and sent it over to the TSA associate, taking a minute to place your jacket and shoes into another bin and sending that over too. 

The gray bins were plain, old and rackety and classic, comparable to a washed out 1930’s movie. You trodded through the metal detector, feeling the cold floor through your socks. 

When you finally made it through check in, you were met with a TSA associate over your bag, looking straight at you as if you’d committed some heinous crime. 

“Excuse me,” the TSA officer asked, gesturing to your bags, “Are these your bags?” 

“Yes,” you affirmed, almost nervously. “Is there an issue?” 

“You seem to have some liquid above the restricted amount. I’m going to have to take a look.” 

For a moment, you were startled. What did you even bring? You’d diligently packed your belongings and made sure everything was secure….surely there had to be some mistake. 

Your breath wavered the minute the officer pulled out your favorite body wash. 

In the midst of your packing, you’d forgotten you’d slipped it into your carry on. 

“Oh.” Your voice shook as you meant the TSA officer’s eyes, “I’m sorry. That’s my favorite one.” 

“I’m sorry.” For a moment, it almost seemed like the man had sympathy for you, “But I’m going to have to ask you to pour half of it out. If you refuse that, you’re going to have to give it away.” 

Every step towards the outside garbage felt like a punch to the chest. While you kept composed on the outside, pouring away half of your prized wash felt miserable. 

A dying rose. A dying star. Something dying slowly and surely inside. 

Now you’d have to get another one. Brand new packaging lost to your honest mistake. 

This sucked ass. 

You meandered through the security area again, more ghost than person and collected the rest of your belongings. While your voice wavered, you didn’t shed a tear, and simply walked along. 

Somehow, in the midst of all your wandering,  you ended up in the departure lounge. In front of you were an array of connected seats with their generic cushioning and the customary TV screens telling you what flight was taking off when. 

The glass paneled windows to your right showcased the hangar, and from your spot, you could see planes parked out in front. The sun set down in the distance, leaving a watercolor blend of pinks and oranges in its wake. 

You could almost call it picturesque. 

You leaned your suitcase against a wall for a moment, scanning the lounge for an available corner. Unfortunately, your plane was packed. 

The chatter of students was overwhelming, and without a choice, you settled into a seat at the far corner of the lounge next to a pretty-boy who you were certain wouldn't speak to you. 

They normally never did. Why should it be any different now? And honestly, you didn’t want to talk. 

“This plane is probably fully booked.” A voice (the perfect blend of warm and deep) said. You turned to meet the eyes of said pretty boy, a surprisingly lovely shade of brown. Light and bright and inviting. Almost like a mocha. Or a latte. 

“Tell me about it,” you laughed, slightly amused by the novelty of the situation. It wasn’t common for pretty boys to talk to you. Even less common for you to entertain any conversation, especially when you felt the way you did.  “When I waved ‘goodbye’ to my family, I wasn’t expecting this much of a crowd to tell them about.” 

“Yeah?” Oikawa smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting upwards invitingly. “I was more surprised at the lack of seats.” 

“You’d think they’d anticipate a college student stampede.” 

Oikawa laughed, the amusement lighting up his whole face. It was a simple laugh — chiming and lovely in the way that all laughs were, but you were certain you’d do anything to hear that again. 

His presence had a way of putting you at ease. 

The two of you coincidentally had seats right next to each other on the flight. As the plane lifted off, you snapped a picture of the city lights, twinkling their tiny goodbyes as they faded from view.

The cabin’s lights were dimmed, yet even in the haziness, you could make out the features of the boy next to you. 

High cheekbones. A defined cupid’s bow. Lips that seemed even softer than the lather of that soap you loved so much. 

You’d mourn your soap later. Even if it was an object, your attachment to it simply showed a care for your belongings. 

What could be more human than that? 

Oikawa turned to you, gaze friendly as the plane began its mounting ascent. 

“You know, the TSA can be real dicks sometimes.” 

What the fuck. Who was he? A psychic?

“What did they do to you?”

“They made me pour out half my expensive hair gel. I insisted it fit the requirements but they refused to accommodate me. So mean.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the pout he wore. It seemed even someone as vivacious as Oikawa couldn’t charm himself out of aviation regulations. 

Somehow the whole thing made you feel a lot better. 

You and Oikawa (Tooru as he later insisted) shared many conversations throughout the flight. Some revolved around human existentialism (with him quoting the “we were infinite” from The Perks of Being a Wallflower). Some revolved around space. 

Some even revolved around clubs, with him sharing high school volleyball stories and pledging your university’s team to greatness. 

When fatigue finally claimed you, the comfort of his shoulder was unmatched by anything you’d ever felt. He’d extended an invite for you to come and see them practice anytime, and laid his own head atop of yours. 

Of course, when you showed up for said practice, so had a bunch of other fans. He’d barely spared you a glance, let alone spoke to you when you’d tried to seek him out. 

A grand gym and an even grander boy. 

You just avoided him after that.

“Im really sorry about that,” Oikawa said. While his expressions were genuine, you weren’t sure how much you were going to trust it. Certainly, in all the time you’d spent apart, he must have changed at least a bit. 

To think he was the exact same boy who you met on the plane would be foolish.

“Yeah, water under the bridge.” 

“No, not really.” Oikawa paused to study your expression. Beneath all of your nonchalance was something fragile. Admiration? Loathing? He doubted it. “How long did you plan on avoiding me?”

“As long as I needed to.” You answered matter-of-factly. “Then again, that was when I thought you’d forgotten about me.” 

“How could I ever do that?” Oikawa’s expression morphed into a worried one, eyebrows knitted together and mouth downturned as if to say damn that’s an accusation. 

“Well-“

“Look I meant to seek you out after that day. I saw you there, wanted to come over, but at that point you’d gone off to continue chatting with Kuroo and met Iwa. And classes exist.”

“Okay. Water under the bridge for real.” 

His eyes lit up. “You mean it?” 

You nodded in approval, only to be dragged away by Kuroo, who’d suddenly appeared behind you. 

“What the fuck?” You yelled, not caring much for your use of profanities. Some of the nearby team members snickered as you were pulled to the corner of the gym, in front of an array of poster boards. 

“What?” Kuroo asked, “You and Oikawa seem to be fine now, so I thought I could ask you some questions about stuff that really matters. Namely posters.” 

You were met with various shapes and sizes of poster boards. Some were Elmers Tri-Folds. Some were the cheap foam boards you sometimes saw while grocery shopping. 

“If you want a design for your freaking booth,” you began, looking at Kuroo, “Give me some time.”

Oikawa was in the podcast studio. The room was secluded, plastered with posters and heart decals of all shapes and colors. Right beside the door was a framed picture of the volleyball team, with their silly faces frozen in motion. 

Shimizu Kiyoko walked out from behind the desk, nonchalantly acknowledging Oikawa with a nod. “Oikawa, what can I do for you?” 

“Hey,” he winked, unaffected by her lack of reaction, “Have any idea where I can find your host. I’d like her to do me a favor.”

“Advertising.” Kiyoko said bluntly. “I don’t think your booth needs any more attention. Our socials have covered it already.” 

“We always love the extra coverage.” 

“Doesn’t your friend help with all the designs? I think they’d be the perfect candidate to help with all this.”

“Y/N?” He asked, almost dumbfounded by how obvious that answer was. 

“Yes,” Kiyoko smiled. “They’re very nice. I’ve seen you talk a few times, though it honestly seems like they don’t like you very much.” 

“Not true.” He huffed. 

“Well it makes sense. Especially if the rumors are true.” 

People saw Kiyoko’s beauty and shyness and mistook her for a soft and innocent podcast manager. 

Anyone who’d dealt with her enough knew she was actually a force to be reckoned with. 

“The rumors are whatever you make of them. I’m simply an opportunist.” 

Kiyoko chuckled and for a moment, Oikawa felt accomplished. “You don’t need to tell me this. I already know.” 

He leaned against the door, and stretched out his arms in front of him before resting them at his sides again. “Would you at least consider telling the main host to help us out?” 

Kiyoko shuffled the papers in her hands, before meeting his eyes. “I won’t give any guarantees, but something tells me that if you do set up a de-stress carnival, your club will be the central focus of our broadcast.” 

“Thank you!” He beamed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. “I could kiss you for that.”

“No thank you,” Kiyoko declined, “I’m not interested in confirming the rumors.” 

As Oikawa left the studio, Kiyoko walked into the recording room, a tiny smile on her lips.

Your Canva page lay woefully blank before you.

You’d promised Kuroo a design if he gave you time and Kuroo, ever the considerate friend, actually stopped bothering you about the poster. He seemed to trust in Oikawa’s judgment, and it seemed that the rest of the volleyball club did too. 

As a token of thanks, you’d come to the library, your brain and Pinterest providing you at least a vague idea of what it was you wanted to do. However, when it came time to put pen to paper (or more fittingly, hand to mousepad), it seemed that your ideas had been wiped clean. 

Your disappointment felt like a leaky faucet. Despite the minuteness of the feeling, it seemed to pool the more you thought about the situation. While designing was never an obligation, you owed it to your friends. 

You sighed, placing your bag onto the hardwood library table and casting your eyes outside. A slowly setting sun was what greeted you, a medley of pinks and oranges appearing onto a slowly disappearing blue sky. 

How cliche. Considering one's disappointments next to a sunset. 

“Y/N?” A voice called, almost saccharine in the silence of your surroundings. 

And there he was. Draped in the setting sun like a painted figure, cloaked in a veil of sunlight that skimmed his skin like silk. Oikawa’s eyes were almost honey colored in that lighting, and beneath the darkened shelves, he was almost a mystical apparition. 

“Oikawa,” was all you said, cursing every possible force for him appearing now, looking like that, when you barely had anything to show for it. 

“Kuroo told me you’d offered to help us put together some signs for the de-stress carnival.” Oikawa walked over, stepping away from the sunlight and placing his bag down at your table, opting for a seat across from you. “Which, in case you were wondering, I got approval for. A lot of the other clubs are going to be there.” 

“That’s good.” You allowed yourself a glance at him. Your pettiness had all but dissipated, but you were still wary of looking at him for too long. He was like the sun, golden and lustrous and magnetic. You weren’t quite ready to be pulled into his orbit. 

“So,” Oikawa said, taking a glance at your computer screen, “Rough designing?” 

“Yeah. Inspiration has been hard to find and your club is counting on me.” 

“If it means anything to you, we wouldn’t have asked for you to do it if we didn’t believe in you.” You looked up to see Oikawa’s gaze set firmly on your own, as if tracking your expressions. Under his stare, you felt raw. Vulnerable. If you were a cake, and he was cutting you open. 

You weren’t sure what to say. 

A beat of silence permeated the space between you, and the two of you made no effort to stop it. It was somewhat comforting. Unsaid words of yours were understood by him.

“It feels like a lot of pressure,” you finally admitted, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “I want it to be worth your while.” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Oikawa was closer. His breath was soft, fanning over the side of your cheek like a secret. 

“I’m not sure.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper. 

Oikawa paused for a moment, as if contemplating something before decisively placing his hand on top of yours.

For a moment, you were startled by the warmth of his palm, grounding you in some way that didn’t quite make sense to you yet. Something about this was intimate in all the ways it shouldn’t be. Amidst a darkening sky and a slowly dimming library, you could almost consider this clandestine. 

You waited for the rustle of a book’s pages or the resounding footsteps of the librarian to break down the moment, but they never came.  

Oikawa looked at you, seemingly memorizing your features. He said nothing, but a slight smile appeared on his face the second he spotted a stray lock of hair by your ear. You could feel your face progressively heating with every moment spent in this proximity. 

Damn celebrity setters. Damn stupid stupid beautiful men who do this. Damn that Oikawa Tooru. 

Gently, as if touching something fragile, Oikawa smoothed down your hair, brushing the tip of your ear with his fingertips. He held your gaze fondly before suddenly, making an incredulous face. 

“What the-“ He said, looking at your hair again. “It’s back up again.” He looked at his hands in horror, as if their magic didn’t work. “Damn it, that’s not how that goes.” 

You couldn’t stop the laughter from erupting out of you at his antics, You swiftly flattened that pesky strand and looked back at him, feeling the amusement pool in your chest at his dismayed expression. 

“Sorry man,” you laughed, syllables coming out breathless, “Sometimes stuff doesn’t go to plan.” 

Oikawa seemed like he wanted to melt into the floor, and feeling the need for some fresh air, you dragged him out of the library. Upon leaving the double doors (and air conditioning), you were met by the lit sidewalk and found the wooden benches by the line of trees. 

You sat down, gesturing for him to join you. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one before,” Oikawa mentioned off-handedly, “I mean I’m here a lot, but I’m not sure when this was put here.” 

“It’s been here…?” 

Oikawa sighed, tilting his gaze to the now dark sky. “You do have an eye for good things.” 

You raised a brow. “What does that even mean?” 

“The stuff you make is adorable. And Kuroo’s always said that everywhere he brings us are all places you found.” 

“Really?” You leaned your upper body onto the bench. “I didn’t expect credit from him.” 

“He cares about you,” Oikawa said. “He gave a lot of shit when he realized that we’d talked on our plane and then not again. But I deserved that.” 

“I was petty. But it’s not like I can actually walk up to you.” 

“What?” Oikawa seemed puzzled, as if this was something impossible for him to fathom. “Why not? I don’t think I’m that bad.” 

“Iwaizumi says otherwise.” 

“Mean. But seriously, why?” 

You’d forgotten how refreshing Oikawa was. Even though you were sitting on a bench, you felt practically weightless. 

“Rumors,” was all you said, gesturing to him. 

Understanding seemed to flash into his eyes, and slowly, like connecting pieces of a puzzle, it all fell into place. He paused for a moment before meeting your eyes with a grin. 

“You know they’re just rumors right?” He smirked, “I went to a party a while back to kick off club season. There was this one girl who really wasn’t leaving me alone, so I ended up leaving. Turns out she’d told her friends that she and I made out at the party and gave me a whole lot more credit than I was expecting. Not that I mind making out, but I’m picky.” 

“Picky how?” You asked, words leaving your mouth before you even had the chance to think them over. 

“Picky as in there’s really only one person I’ve even wanted to kiss since I got here but haven’t got the chance to. I’m hoping they come to the booth. Just so I’ll get to know what that’s like.” 

You felt a subtle twist of something in your chest, though you weren’t sure what to make of it. Of course he had his eye on somebody. It was bound to happen eventually. 

“Why are you making a booth to do mass kissing then?” A valid follow up question. A guy like him could successfully pull whenever he wanted to. 

“Because I’m an opportunist,” he sighed, “And I’m not even sure if I can make a move properly. I don’t function like I normally do when they’re around.” 

“Of course you can. Anybody would say yes to you, Tooru.” 

With this, something in him seemed to snap and he immediately pulled you closer, your faces just an inch apart. His hands were firm around your waist, and the sensation was nearly searing. You could feel everything, from his hands to his breath to even the way his eyes seemed to scan your face. 

The way he looked at you now was like worship. 

“What are you doing?” You whispered shakily. With him all around you you could barely breathe, let alone think. 

“Making a move.” His eyes were on your lips. His hand gently left your waist to skim your arm before placing a hand on your cheek. “May I?” 

Your nod was nearly imperceptible before he captured your lips in yours. 

Soft, was your first thought as you felt his lips brush yours ever so lightly. You leaned into him, relishing the vaguely sweet taste of strawberry Chapstick on his lips as you swiped your tongue over his lips. 

Oikawa Tooru was a mystic. His fingers tangled in your hair and his lips searched for yours as if he was a lost man and you were his savior. He traced the curve of your waist and kissed you passionately, nibbling your lips when you pulled at his shirt. 

You could kiss him forever. You moved to nip at the tip of his ear, and his shaky breath had you considering if you should bite down harder. He pulled you back in and you melted into the feel of his lips and hands and the way his touch seemed to awaken something inside you. 

The way he held you was reverent. 

When you finally split for air, Oikawa held you close, his smile never wavering. He rubbed a thumb across your cheek, and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

“That was magical,” you murmured into his shirt, and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit happy to hear the laugh you liked so much. 

You reckoned you’d be able to put together a solid design after tonight.

Oikawa had a skip in his step the following morning. He’d aced every assessment, finished all his homework, and made major breakthroughs at practice. His sets to Bokuto were so flawless that Bokuto could hardly believe he’d made those shots. 

Everyone on the volleyball team was certain that something had happened, but Oikawa refused to let up. 

He didn’t kiss and tell after all. 

“What is up with you?” Iwaizumi asked good-naturedly, tipping back a water bottle. “You’ve been in a surprisingly good mood all morning.” 

“It’s been a good day,” Oikawa smiled, offering no other details while picking up a few stray balls on the court. The gym floor seemed exceptionally shiny today. He’d be sure to thank whoever waxed the floor for their services when he could. 

“Something definitely happened.” Kuroo chimed in, scrutinizing Oikawa like he was something under a microscope. “The question is what.” 

“Am I not allowed to have good days?” 

“No you are,” Kuroo smirked, “But a day this good only happens after a sudden surge in popularity which —last time I checked— didn’t happen, or……did you make some breakthrough?” 

“With my sets, yes.” 

“No,” Kuroo smiled knowingly. “I’m gonna curse them out for not telling me anything.” 

Oikawa hid his surprise with a flash of indifference, though internally he cursed the middle blocker. It seemed that he was just as good at reading people as he was at read blocking. 

Iwaizumi caught on almost immediately, casting his eyes to his longtime friend, who all of a sudden, was acting like a deer in headlights. He found it odd that the nature of your relationship with Oikawa had transformed seemingly overnight. 

It seemed that you never truly harbored any resentment against him. 

Still, he resolved to approach you about it as soon as he could. 

The minute that you walked through the gym’s double doors, the entire team thought that they’d summoned you with all the prying they were doing. You hauled something large through the door and placed it against the wall, proud of yourself for the herculean effort it took to bring it through. 

The minute he registered your presence, Oikawa’s face looked like a puff of cotton candy. His cheeks were rosy with all the teasing and the memories of last night, and when he saw what it was that you’d leaned against the wall, he thought he should run over and kiss you out of pride. 

“Good morning guys,” you beamed, a smile so radiant that Oikawa had suddenly lost all the focus he’d had all morning. 

“Morning Y/N,” Iwaizumi greeted, walking over to greet you with a hug and a slight gesture to the object that was now leaning against the wall. “Is this it?” 

You nodded excitedly. “I got the inspiration to put it together last night. I think it captures the magic of the booth.” 

Iwaizumi leaned to flip over the posterboard and decided that he’d never seen anything more fitting in his entire life. 

The sign was a pastel wonder, a pale blue at the bottom and moving to a light pink at the top. Across the poster were small and light volleyballs, somewhat transparent against the background as if the pattern was a part of it. The borders of the poster were filled with various lip prints (and even funnier, some hidden Chapsticks).

The font at the center was a far cry from the scrawling archaic font that Kuroo had used on their initial flyers. It was a simple block font, a shade of pink with a glow filter and a pattern that made it look like a light-up sign on the part that really mattered.

The Volleyball Club presents, the poster read, written in a smaller font. Right below that, the light up letters spelled out The Mystic Kissbooth. Help kiss us to greatness. 

The team crowded around the board, marveling at both its quality and its thoughtfulness. 

“Y/N….” Bokuto trailed off, his eyes nearly bursting with amazement, “This is crazy!” 

“Yeah,” Semi added, “This is ridiculously good. Kuroo, where the hell have you been keeping them.” 

Kuroo simply crossed his arms and smiled with pride. He’d always believed in you. 

Oikawa stood shell-shocked at your work, feeling all the days of preparation finally coming together. He looked at you and smiled a smile so genuine, you were glad you’d finally pulled through. 

You looked to the floor bashfully for a moment before meeting the team’s eyes with renewed confidence. “Thank you. I’m glad to help.” 

Iwaizumi stood at your side, smiling fondly at you before turning his gaze to Oikawa. “Hey. Oikawa. What is the deal with the de-stress carnival? When is it, where is it, and where are we setting up?” 

Oikawa, still elated, looked around the gym at the team. “If you want details, I think we should call another meeting.” 

”That is a great idea,” you chimed in. 

“Wanna join?” Oikawa asked (hopefully). 

”I’m sorry, I don’t think I can. I’ve got a date with Kiyoko.” 

The team went silent. “You have a what?!”

The evening hues only made Kiyoko more beautiful. She was dressed casually, wearing classic blue jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan that only accentuated her figure. When she saw you approaching her, a smile appeared on her face instantaneously. 

“Y/N!” She greeted, “It’s good to see you.” 

You jogged up to her and pulled her into a friendly hug. “It’s good to see you too!”

You and Kiyoko fell into step naturally, opting to have dinner at one of your favorite places outside of campus. It was a quick walk from where you’d chosen to meet up, and in such good weather, it was a crime not to spend more time together. 

“I have a lot to tell you about,” Kiyoko began, “Starting with Oikawa Tooru. He showed up in my room and asked for the host. He’s got to know it’s me right?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I know you use a modulator to stay under wraps so people take the podcast seriously, but he’s had a very good track record for being perceptive.” 

“That’s a pain” she sighed, “I hope he’s not going to spread it around.” 

“He won’t,” you assured her, “Oikawa can understand rumors better than anyone.” 

Kiyoko smiled relievedly, though she raised a brow at the mention of rumors. “Are those true?” 

You fought the heat that seemed to emerge onto your face the minute she mentioned that. You just hoped it would go unnoticed by her. 

Her blue eyes, unfortunately, were just as perceptive as they were pretty. 

She smirked, crossing her arms and stopping on the sidewalk path. “When did that happen?” 

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s keep walking.” You wish your voice had come out more strongly than a murmur. 

“When?” 

“Last night.” Damn Kiyoko for getting answers out of you. 

“And…?” She raised her brows expectantly. 

“Rumors are baseless but I confirm them. He is magical.” 

“I ought to say something about that,” she giggled, and you wanted to bury yourself into your hands to avoid her teasing. 

“Shush.” 

The two of you had a lovely dinner and opted to grab a quick drink from the speciality beverage store next door. Kiyoko grabbed a strawberry milkshake and you opted for a tropical fruit floater that they’d just created. Thanks to Kiyoko, both drinks were on the house. 

She nursed the straw between her lips and took a drag of her milkshake before meeting your eyes. “I have some information on the de-stress carnival.” 

You urged her to continue, and Kiyoko did. 

“Looks like Oikawa and the other members of clubs decided to officially name it the Cool Down Carnival. They’re just going to refer to it as Cool Down for ease. They’re planning to organize it the Saturday after midterms and they’ve been working on concessions like cotton candy, caramel apples, popcorn, and a whole boatload of stuff. Administration is also totally fine with this.” 

“Wow,” was all you could say as a response. You were honestly impressed with Oikawa. He put so much thought and care into a silly rumor that had transformed into one of the school’s biggest upcoming events. He was an alchemist of opportunities, taking a rumor of lead and transforming it to gold. 

“Yeah,” Kiyoko nodded, “I’ll get social media to cover it for me. So far, nobody doubts that I’m the manager of the ‘Cast, so it should be fairly reasonable for me to do.” 

“Out of curiosity, do you know anything about how they’re planning to do the shifts of the booth?” 

“All I know for certain is that Oikawa said he probably wasn’t gonna do a headlining shift…or a shift at all. A lot of the other members were perfectly fine with taking this on, but there has been some backlash.” 

He was planning on not headlining the booth?

Your heart was suddenly very warm and fuzzy in your chest. 

Kiyoko knowingly smiled at you before tipping at the front register and dragging you outside. The breeze was oddly pleasant, something a bit uncommon for this time of year. It was approaching colder weather, but it felt nearly spring-like. 

“The weather isn’t making sense,” you said, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came with nighttime out. 

“It hasn’t been making sense,” Kiyoko smiled, “We’re anticipating a fresh fair.” 

Springs and falls blended together. You found a beautiful leaf on the sidewalk and pressed it to your palm, preserving the feel and look in your memory. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” you’d finally tell Kiyoko as you parted ways, meaning each and every word.

When Oikawa had showed up at your doorstep in the morning, your sleep-addled brain could barely fathom the reason as to why he would do such a thing. 

That was, until he walked into your room carrying breakfast in a brown bag. 

“Good morning Y/N.” He said, voice still slightly raspy from a good night of sleep. (You weren’t going to forget how that sounded forever). 

You greeted him with a morning greeting of your own and sat on your bed, stretching your limbs and analyzing the boy who—at this present moment—seemed like the happiest guy on earth. 

“Feel free to help yourself,” Oikawa grinned, grabbing a bagel and a pack of cream cheese from the bag. “I have some updates for you.” 

“Does it have to do with the Cool Down?” You walked over to the bag and grabbed something you liked from the inside. 

“Wow. How did you know about the name?” 

“I have my sources,” you winked. 

Oikawa simply laughed. “I know it’s Kiyoko dumbass. She’s one of the sneakiest podcast hosts of all time.” 

“So you do know.” 

“Obviously.” Oikawa lounged on the chair in your corner. “Nobody else is ever working in that office. She should get some people to join her.” 

You nodded and shifted to sit next to him on the couch. His warmth was a surprisingly pleasant addition into the morning, and you found yourself leaning into him. He didn’t make any move to stop it, opting to pull you in and place his arm over you. 

“We have classes soon,” you said groggily, “But I don’t want to move.” 

“We don’t have to right now.” 

“Thanks Tooru.” 

“Of course, Y/N.” He smiled. “Though we do have an afternoon meeting on how to divide the shifts. I’m not sure what we’re going to be doing about me.” 

You suddenly felt a lot more awake. You shifted your weight onto your unsupported arm and looked up at Oikawa. “Are you planning to take a shift?” 

Oikawa shifted nervously in his seat. “I’m not sure. I may have to for the sake of demand. Everyone is expecting me to live up to the expectation. I think we would be less successful without my involvement.” 

You felt a twist of something. Not jealously, but not comfort either. Something between the two. You rose away from Oikawa, walking over to the opposite side of the room where your bed was and met his eyes. 

“Do you really have to?” you asked, feeling partially unfair. There was nothing official between the two of you at the moment, but you’d thought after the kiss two nights ago…..you thought you had a chance. 

“I might,” he gulped, “But you know you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to kiss.” 

You sighed exasperatedly. “I know that you came up with this as a business opportunity and because you thought we’d never…get anywhere, but a long shift is going to be a lot of people.” 

“I know,” he sighed, meeting your eyes with an expression in his own that looked a lot like sadness. “But the fundraiser might just have to come first for now— no that’s not what I—“ 

“Please leave,” you said, voice wavering a bit, “I don’t want to deal with the whole priorities thing right now. We can say we kissed once for fun. Headline it if you must. Later Oikawa.” 

You turned away from him and walked towards your closet to find appropriate clothes for the day. You couldn’t even stand to look at him right now. Things would become too complicated for you to handle. 

“Y/N, I’m really sorry.” Oikawa said from behind you, “That is genuinely not what I meant.” 

You turned to face him again, not even able to meet his eyes. “There’s got to be some semblance of truth in what you said earlier. You love your team Oikawa. They are important. I don’t expect you to throw away opportunities for me. We’re not even dating.” You laughed dryly. “I’d like a bit of space. We can talk a bit later.” 

Oikawa seemed like he had a lot more to say, but he wordlessly slipped out of the door, leaving your room noticeably empty. 

Once he’d left for certain, you collapsed onto the floor and let loose the dam of tears you’d held in for so long.

When Iwaizumi found you in the library, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Your eyes were reddened ever so slightly, covered over by a splash of cold water to the face (most likely), and your usual cheerfulness when you greeted him was a lot less lively. 

He took the seat beside you, surprised by your lack of response. 

”Hajime,” you said softly, turning over to smile sadly at him, “Good to see you here.” 

Correction: something was horrifically wrong. 

“What happened?” He asked softly, wondering what was enough to dampen your normally resilient spirit.  

“Fucking Oikawa,” you laughed sarcastically, “Look at me saying I’d never get caught up in his web, and then doing exactly that.” 

Iwaizumi wrinkled his brow. That day on the bench, he’d known enough to discern that you and Oikawa had some sort of history. That much continued to be made obvious by Oikawa’s constant urge to see you and include you in everything that he and Kuroo didn’t think was important enough to invite you to. 

However, he wasn’t sure when you and Oikawa became more than a past set of acquaintances….and that stung a little. He understood your reasoning though. Especially if it was as complicated as you seemed to feel at the moment. 

“Were you guys dating?”

“No.” You turned to face him in full, and he was struck by the magnitude of just how magnetic you were. Iwaizumi was guilty of being stuck in your orbit. “Just a kiss. Because he sweet talked me into thinking he wanted something.”

“Knowing him, he probably did.” Iwaizumi said, “Oikawa has a tendency to be obsessive to get what he wants, but also be blinded by obligations. This was definitely about him headlining the booth, right?” 

You nodded, feeling a sudden tightness in your throat at the thought. You weren’t ready to confront the morning’s events quite yet. 

“That dumbass,” Iwaizumi groaned, “If he’d told us that he liked you and had actually managed to make a move we would’ve gladly taken his shift! Who gives a fuck about what the college body wants? Half of them thirst over everyone!” You laughed a bit at the truth of that statement. “Yeah, and Kiyoko told me she was also planning on making a little appearance.” 

At this Iwaizumi raised his brow. “Oh that’s about to be carnage.” 

“Absolutely,” you giggled, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the lucky person.” Iwaizumi laughed, a sound that was low and sweet and comforting. “I think I’ll leave it to some of the other boys. They deserve a chance after all.” 

The two of you grinned at the mental imagery of the team fighting for a chance to interact with your beautiful friend, and suddenly, Oikawa’s shittiness seemed like something far less relevant. 

Still, even with the humor of the situation came the very uncomfortable realization that you and Oikawa–-whatever you were–-were done if you didn’t come to some consensus. 

You shoved your hands into your face, wondering how the hell you’d managed to go from avoidant and unattached to too attached. Maybe the rumors had some merit. A kiss from Oikawa was all that it took to get so jumbled. 

Iwaizumi’s warm palm on your back was what brought you back to your senses. He rubbed his slow circles and sat there patiently until you emerged from your cover of shame. 

“What am I going to do?” you asked, voice raw and vulnerable and everything you’d rather it not have been. 

“Whatever you want to do.” Iwaizumi’s gaze was genuine, soft eyes studying you. “You’re entitled to your own decisions. Kuroo and I would never ditch you for Shitty you know.” 

“It’s for the team,” you whispered, feeling tears threatening to spill over your cheeks. Your vision was hazy, and you blinked slowly to clear the water from your eyes. “So then why do I feel like this?” 

“Because you care about him, Y/N.” Iwaizumi squeezed your shoulder affectionately, “You and him clearly bonded on some intergalactic level, so having that be suddenly shattered in favor of something seemingly less important is going to feel like shit. In fact, he is the real piece of crap here.” “The team matters.” “The team is all about relationships.” Iwaizumi said firmly. “I have a hunch there’s someone in this tournament that he needs to beat. That’s why he’s been obsessively orchestrating the perfect way to raise money to have a practice match beforehand. Still, I won’t deny it. Oikawa is an idiot for doing this to you. You have all the rights to move on with your life.” 

“I think I’m gonna take my space from him for a few days,” you eventually responded. “I think I’ll also not visit the booth. I’ll give Kuroo the sign in advance so he can help with setting up?” 

Iwaizumi nodded solemnly. “If that’s what you need to do, I’ll be your number one supporter. I’d still love it if you could stop by though. We love having you around.” 

You nodded at him. “I’ll be there for you and Kuroo. Always. And you guys can hang out with me at the Cool Down when you’re off shift.” 

“Of course,” Iwaizumi smiled, “For you? Anything.”

“How do you say, ‘I’m angry’ in French?” The ping of the recording microphone tapped on as Oikawa paced quickly around his room. 

“Je suis fâché.” 

“How do you say, ‘I like to go out with my friends’ in French?” “J’aime sortir avec mes amis.” 

“How do you say, ‘I went to my friend’s house’ in French?” 

“Je ne veux pas continuer.” 

“Oui Monsieur. À Bientôt!” His phone’s recording feature switched off, leaving him in a silent room once again. 

He was regretful, so much so that he paced around in his room in the hopes that it would give him some sort of clarity. As much as he wanted to approach you, he knew you weren’t ready to talk to him right now. 

“Shittykawa,” he heard from his door, opening with a subtlety and closing with a bang. Classic Iwa move. 

He turned to face his best friend, who at this moment, seemed to be quite irritated with him. He could feel the lecture as certain as one could feel a thunderstorm in the air. 

Iwaizumi stood, arms crossed in Oikawa’s room, leaning against the wall and pinning him with a look so strong it might as well have been a thumbtack. Oikawa felt rooted in place, and all the words he initially planned on saying left his mouth. 

“So Ushijima Wakatoshi happens to be at a school just a bit over,” Iwa started, “I did my research. Why not play a practice match with them to start to see their setting style? Break down their setter, practice receiving from a left-handed person, and maybe we can beat him, right?” 

Oikawa sighed, feeling all the fight leave his body. He made his way over to his pale blue rug and sat down. “I know. It’s ridiculous.” 

“What’s ridiculous is what you did to Y/N.” Iwaizumi glared at him. “If you’d said something about liking them and actually successfully getting them to like you, then we would’ve been perfectly capable of handling the shifts. Hell, even Kiyoko is coming. That alone will give people incentive to come and kiss us.” 

“I made a mistake,” Oikawa cringed. He didn’t even want to think about the morning. What was intended to be a romantic gesture ended up being a horrible memory. His attempts to distract himself were futile, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Iwaizumi had found you. “But they probably don’t want to talk to me.” 

Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa sadly. “They’re planning on skipping the booth. They’ve already decided to give their poster to Kuroo so he can help us with set-up. So don’t plan on seeing them.” 

He grimaced. “Not coming? Really?” 

Iwaizumi nodded. “I was pretty unhappy about it, but we’ve got to give them space to process everything.” The minute you’d smiled at him in the airport, talking about “college stampedes,” Oikawa knew he wanted nothing more but to know you better. He’d thanked every lucky star for the seats you had next to each other and relished every moment spent with you. 

He wondered why you avoided him for the next months, always daydreaming about what he’d say to you when you finally reappeared at practices. He’d searched for you in your classes, but he always missed you. 

When you walked into the gym on that fateful day, he thought he had a genuine chance. You were perfect. Your thoughts were exquisite, your smile radiant, and everything about you felt right. When he kissed you, he could’ve screamed to the heavens that his heart was yours. 

Perhaps that was why his heart seemed to tear a bit at Iwaizumi’s declaration. You wanted to move on from this. 

“Oikawa…you can still fix this you know?” Iwaizumi pulled him up from the rug, noting the reignited spark in his eyes. “You should probably get the fair set up, find Y/N, and explain yourself. I’m certain they’ll understand.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” he said solemnly, “And if they still decide they want nothing to do with me, at least I did my part.”

You found him at Kuroo’s place at night when you’d stepped through his door uninvited (like you did at times). In your hands was your laptop, a few pencils, and the sign you’d made for the booth. The last thing you’d expected was to see the person you’d been trying so desperately to avoid. 

Oikawa, for a moment, looked like he’d seen a ghost. He looked at the door, brown eyes concerned and scanning you as if you’d just walked in through the wall. 

Nobody said anything. You stood still, too shell-shocked to process the fact that a night before the Cool Down, Oikawa was spending time with Kuroo. In fact, you could barely believe Kuroo had ever allowed Oikawa into his place in the first place, especially when he knew that you were planning on popping in at some point. 

Kuroo’s eyes followed your gaze, finding it landing right on the floor next to Oikawa (as opposed to straight at him). 

“Well,” Kuroo began softly, “I didn’t warn either of you.” 

“You could have,” you said, looking back at Kuroo, “I would’ve liked to know before I got here.” “But then you would have never showed up.” Oikawa’s voice was clear, slicing through the silence of the room with a blade of decisiveness that you hadn’t heard from him. He looked you over, seemingly analyzing your health since the day he’d fucked up. 

“I wasn’t planning on running into you,” you admitted, finding the courage to meet his eyes. “In fact, I was literally just coming to drop off the sign for your booth, talk to my best friend, and then go to bed.” 

“Please let me explain myself.” Everything about Oikawa seemed pleading. His face harbored an expression of guilt so boundless that you weren’t sure how to react. 

You wordlessly sat down in the corner chair closest to Kuroo’s door, setting your stuff down on the surface closest to it. 

“I’m sure Iwaizumi must have told you what it was that we were raising money for.” 

You nodded.

“I never had the chance to tell you more about what I struggled with in high school," Oikawa said quietly. “I was surrounded by talented players. Some of them are so talented that I thought I never even stood a chance.  I realized at the end of my matches that I deserved to be on the court just as much as anyone else.” 

“You’re a damn good setter Oikawa,” Kuroo interjected, “And even Semi admires your sets. He’s from the same school as Ushijima too.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa laughed softly, but even the sound was sad. He turned to meet your eyes. “I was out of line trying to say the volleyball club mattered more to me than what we were getting to be. I was worried they’d be weird at me for flaking, but they’re my team. Iwa told me they’d always have my back. Happy setter happy tosses right?” 

You took a moment to process everything that he was saying, ultimately coming to one conclusion. He really did feel bad. 

“Why are you so obsessed with having a chance to beat someone you had a rivalry with in highschool?” 

Oikawa paused, contemplating your question. His brow was furrowed, and his hands clutched anxiously around nothing, seemingly finding the best words to phrase—whatever it was—that he was feeling. 

“It was to give myself the confidence to know I can still beat tough opponents,” he said quietly. “But it was never worth losing you.” 

You gently moved onto the floor, kneeling your way over to where Oikawa sat. When your fingertips skimmed his cheek, cool from the fall time air, he seemed fragile. 

You gently curved your fingers to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Are you sure you mean it?” 

“Every last word.” Oikawa whispers, and maybe against your better instincts, you pull him into an embrace.

As far as Oikawa was concerned, you weren’t coming to the booth today. 

Cool Down’s set up began bright and early, and despite last night’s emotional clarity, Kuroo was still the one who showed up with the sign. 

The booth was placed in a central location, but deep enough into the carnival so that after a sweet kiss, everyone could go and support the other clubs. He hadn’t been able to spot Kiyoko quite yet, but he was certain they were bound to cross paths eventually. 

He walked across the grassy area where the carnival was being set up, watching the glorious “Cool Down” sign being placed at the front of the admit area. Many sports teams and board members of academic clubs were helping organize their own booths. 

“Hey Oikawa! I can put up the banner!” Bokuto shouted from across the field, jogging up to their area with a rolled up “Mystic Kissbooth” backdrop. 

“Be careful!” He yelled back, “We can’t have one of our best spikers getting hurt. I need those cross court and straight shots in perfect condition!” 

Bokuto grinned so widely that Oikawa couldn’t help but grin back. “You can count on me!” 

He took a moment to slouch against the now filled bouncy castle by their stand, clutching his clipboard to his chest. He could practically sense the excitement seeping into the space as the nearby club members set up their stands. 

He’d had the opportunity to survey the space beforehand, and was quite pleased with the nearby stations. 

The art club created a paint gun bullseye game to win handmade trinkets and jewelry. The president stood proudly at the set up side, excitedly loading up paint into the guns. He could already predict the boyfriends who’d attempt to win there.

To the other side of them was the statistics club’s probability stand. They’d set up numerous games: cards, a wheel, and even ring toss for the chance to win huge prizes. At the present moment, Kuroo was inquiring about the legitimacy of the airpods in one of the member’s hands (and yes—they were legit). 

“This is pretty amazing, huh?” 

Oikawa snapped out of his reverie, only to see Mattsun sporting his classic smirk. He looked around for Makki, but didn’t find him. 

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I’m honestly surprised our little flier accomplished this much.” 

“I’m not,” Mattsun chuckled, “You’ve been like this since high school Oikawa. Everyone here is really grateful for the rumors. Speaking of which…think the culprit is going to show up today?” 

Oikawa snorted, momentarily horrified at the sound 

that escaped him. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not planning on being a headliner. Iwa’s got that covered.” 

Makki walked into view just a few moments later, looking thoroughly confused. “Where’s the rest of the team?” 

Kuroo walked over at the exact moment, clapping Makki on the back. “We decided to give them a little break, considering they’re going to be doing all the kissing later.” 

The group gathered together, and Mattsun pointed to the castle. “Who’s running this thing?” 

“Oh it’s just a free fun thing the school is putting up.” Oikawa smacked it for good measure. 

“How did midterms even go for you guys?” Kuroo laughed, “I pulled what I wanted in all my classes. Somehow. Orgo was a fucking miracle though. I genuinely thought I failed.”

“I was mostly fine,” Mattsun chuckled, “Though we won’t talk about history. Freaking liberal arts.” 

Oikawa’s midterms had gone more or less to plan, but the added emotional stress had made it much more difficult to keep cool. 

Standing there in that grassy field, he felt more at peace than he did the rest of the week. 

Maybe today would be okay after all.

You and Iwaizumi were in your room trying to devise a plan on how to attend the carnival. The cool wood of your desk hit your wrist as you spread out the makeshift blueprint of the event that Kiyoko had so graciously given you. 

Iwaizumi paced along the floor, inspecting outfits that you picked out while you devised a mental list of everywhere you wanted to go to maximize your enjoyment. Economic principles were literally designed off of utility, and you wanted to make sure all your contributions would have the best outcome for the clubs and yourself. 

Midterms had been stressful, and while last night’s talk had fixed most of what had contributed to that stress, you still wondered about Oikawa.  

Iwaizumi was the event’s new headliner, so what did that mean for Oikawa? 

You weren’t sure. 

The Saturday morning filled your room with sunshine that was comforting. From your window you were greeted with the multicolored leaves of campus, some floating down leisurely to hit the grass. 

Iwaizumi, it seemed, had finally picked your outfit. 

“Here,” he gestured, pointing to one of your favorites. “You rock this one.” 

“Why thank you,” you smiled, tossing him the blueprint. “I’ve finally figured out the order I’m going to tour the Cool Down.”

Iwaizumi caught the paper in one arm, muscles flexing ever so slightly as he did. You nodded appreciatively. He was going to generate a shit ton of money. 

He put a pen between his lips ever so slightly as he read the marks on the page. “Cotton candy. Art booth. Bouncy castle. Stats games. Chemistry lab. Apple dunk to win candy apples. Physics coaster.” He handed the page back. “That’s a pretty solid list. I think you’re missing something though.”

You pulled the pen out of Iwa’s mouth (surprised at your boldness) and smiled gently at him. “I’ll be sure to pop in at some point or be nearby to support you.” 

Iwaizumi nodded, “Of course. I just need to beat you at any and all games we visit after my shift.” 

You snickered. “Not a chance.” 

Iwaizumi simply smirked in response.

“Hey, I need two tickets!” A student hollered to her assistant, who at the present moment, was working on acquiring more admit tickets from the roll they’d customized for the event. “We have quite the line here.” 

“I’m working on it!” The assistant hollered back, jogging over with the entire row. 

The line for the Cool Down was large, and you were thankful you’d had the foresight to arrive early enough to avoid a majority of the crowd. Being friends with Iwa had its perks too–the minute that the admitting team had spotted him, they’d immediately ushered you to the front so you were in a position to visit him later. 

Soon enough, you were at the front of the line. 

“Well hello there friend of Iwaizumi,” the girl at the front smiled, “How many tickets do you need?” “Just one,” you said, surprised at the lack of prompt to pay the entrance fee. “What about the entrance fee?” 

“Oh, Iwaizumi took care of that already,” the assistant grinned, handing you a beautifully designed cardstock ticket and tying a wristband around your wrist. “So you can walk straight in.” 

You smiled graciously at the duo. “Wow. I’ll go find him and pay him back. Thank you guys.”

Stepping around the ticket distribution center, you walked straight through the decorated entrance area and walked in. 

For a moment, you were awestruck. The usually empty grass fields were filled to the brim with activity. All around you were the booths of various clubs, all with lines to try them out. You could smell the sweet and tart scent of caramel apples in the distance, and saw a couple trying out the physics club’s make-shift coaster with a cotton candy in their hands. 

The late afternoon was brisk and fresh, and you felt the possibilities of the evening unfurl around you. As the sky darkened its hues, the fair would begin to light up from the fixtures that trimmed everyone’s areas. Everything, from the food areas, to even the Mystic Kissbooth would create a movie-like scene. 

You decided right there and then that the Cool Down was the best fair you’d ever attended. You’d never seen anything as well thought out as what you saw today. 

You made your way to the popcorn area, finding new booths that you hadn’t seen on the blueprint. In front of you was a simple dart-throw, with the guarantee of winning a special edition Cool Down shirt if you hit within a certain range. 

This was intriguing. 

“Hi there,” you said quietly, walking up to the booth. “Can I give this a whirl?” The booth’s president looked up at you shocked for a moment before nodding. 

“Of course!” He said excitedly, elbowing his shift mate. “Y/L/N Y/N, right? We are huge fans of your work. Kuroo has told us so so much about you!” 

“My work?” You asked curiously as they pressed a dart into your palm. “Like my fliers?” “Hell yeah,” the president grinned. “Pay if you win okay? I honestly want you to get our design out of it. We were inspired a bit by your Mystic Kissbooth sign.” 

In the spirit of good fun, you aimed the dart as best as you could, so surprised when you hit a spot very close to the bulls-eye. 

“Hey!” you shouted excitedly, “I actually got in range!” The president smiled excitedly. “Amazing! What’s your shirt size?” You told him your size, tucking a good amount of money into the jar. As soon as the soft shirt fabric hit your hands, you were immediately overcome with a sense of pride. The design was beautiful and simple, capturing the essence in the fair in just an image.

“You’re the design club?” You grinned, “This is amazing!” “Ah thank you,” the president said bashfully, “It’s an honor to get a compliment from you. You’re more than welcome to join us. Canva art is still art we love.” 

“I’ll be sure to consider it!” You waved goodbye to the design booth as you made your way deeper into the fair, a t-shirt in hand. 

“Hey there! Want a chance to win a cool plushie? Come right over!” You turned your head to be met with the sewing club with something that looked a lot like “Bop-It” set up with sheets of papers next to them. Out of sheer curiosity you made your way to the booth, finding a larger crowd than you anticipated. “Okay,” one of the members began, “Here is how this works. You and your competitor will receive a pre-programmed Bop-It machine. Follow the color scheme as closely as you can and note the last color in each sequence on your sheet. If you don’t mess up before your partner, you win ANY handmade plush of your choice!” In front of you, you spotted a couple tucking money into the jar and competing against one another. The round was quick, ending when someone clicked the wrong color. The handmade plushie of the winner was adorable. 

Somehow, all your observations had led you to the front of the line. 

“Hello,” a student smiled, “Do you have a competitor with you?” You were about to share a response when you heard a voice behind you. “Yeah, they do. I’d like to play please.” You were pleasantly surprised to find Kiyoko grinning as she tucked a hefty amount into the jar. The student at the front seemed enamored, and so did the entire line. 

“Shimizu Kiyoko is here…” they all whispered. 

“Hey Kiyoko,” you smiled, placing your own money in the jar. “Planning to beat me?” 

“Of course.” She grinned mischievously, “I ran a volleyball team. I am competitive enough to beat you.” 

The game began as soon as the students got a grip of themselves. You frantically hit the colors and noted them down, only to tie with Kiyoko. You’d both walked away with adorable plushies, though Kiyoko had forcibly had to ensure that they didn’t hand her an extra. 

“I’m glad to run into you,” you smiled, walking with her further into the grass. “I had no idea what time you were planning to get here.” 

“I’m glad I found you.” Her smile was infectious, and soon enough, you stood in front of a candy apple stand. 

“Are you planning to visit the booth?” You asked her, watching her pay for her apple. 

“Yeah,” she smiled, “Oikawa begged me to cover, so I was feeling nice. Though he’s been sulking lately.” You raised a brow. When you saw him last night, you could feel his fatigue. You felt the stress melt out of him when you pulled him in for a hug, but you hadn’t realized the extent of his distress. 

“He hasn’t kissed today at all,” she smiled knowingly, “I think he’s saving an appearance for a special someone.” “He’s….not headlining?” You were shocked. After everything, it seemed that he really meant what he said. 

“Nope,” Kiyoko wiped some caramel from her lips. “And the booth’s sales have been spectacular.” 

Standing there in the field, you were hit with the intense urge to see him. “Go,” Kiyoko smiled, “They’ve been waiting for you to show up.” “We’ll catch up.” You smiled as you took off in a jog towards the booth. The wind swept your cheeks as you ran, and you could see the evening sun dip into different colors. Beautiful, you thought, feeling the adrenaline pump through your veins. 

He really had meant everything. You needed to see him. 

When you arrived at the booth, you were shocked at the line. So many students lined up, money in hand as they waited for their chance to kiss a volleyball player. You were shocked to see the crowd, watching someone hand Semi a particularly large bill before leaning in for a kiss. 

You surveyed the booth for Oikawa, but you couldn’t find him anywhere. You couldn’t stop the thrum of your heart in your chest from overpowering your senses. Where was he? What if you were too late? At that particular moment, Oikawa walked out from behind the stand, putting some Chapstick onto his lips. And then, he saw you. 

You stood in line, a large bill in hand and an expression that seemed almost desperate. Oikawa has never seen anyone look more perfect than you did right now. You held a handmade plushie and a shirt, lips flushed from biting them. 

You met his eyes, feeling your heart shock at the sensation. There he was. 

Before you even had a chance to think about what you were doing, you ran out of line to him, shoving the bill into his hands. 

“Tooru,” you said breathlessly, looking at him with an expression he’d never seen before. “Kiyoko told me you weren’t headlining. I was afraid I wasn’t going to find you. I’m sorry for not trusting you.” Oikawa could hardly hide his shock as the words tumbled from your lips. He studied your cheeks, and smoothed out your wind mused hair with a soft smile. “Hey, it’s alright.” You exhaled, looking at him like he strung the stars. “I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.” Oikawa simply grinned before pulling you in for a passionate kiss. 

This was different from the last time you kissed. He cupped your face softly and wrapped his other arm around your waist, tracing a small heart into your back. You could feel the curve of his lips as he kissed you softly, pulling you deeper when you smiled back into it. Everything about this was soft, almost loving. It felt like a truce. It felt like a confession. 

It felt better than both of those things. When you finally split for air, his smile was nearly blinding. He looked at you like you were a poet and he was your poetry, a product of your purest affections. 

“Go out with me sometime?” He looked nervous, standing there like he hadn’t just kissed you like you were the most special person in the universe. 

“Of course,” you grinned, pulling him down for another kiss.

©mysterystarz all rights reserved, please do not plagiarize, translate, or modify my fics in any way even if credited

Because, somehow, everyone in Toman has decided that you and Mitsuya are destined soulmates. Which is insane because he clearly hates you. He always sighs when you walk into the room, never laughs at your jokes, and acts like everything you do is some massive inconvenience.

So, naturally, you’ve made it your life’s mission to annoy the hell out of him.

And today? Today is no different.

The Toman hideout is as loud and chaotic as ever. You’re sitting on the couch with Emma and Hina, watching as Mitsuya helps Hakkai wrap a bandage around his arm. He’s focused, carefully tying the gauze, completely unbothered by the noise around him.

Which is unacceptable.

“Ugh.” You groan dramatically, slumping against Emma “Why is he always here?”

Hina snorts “Because he’s literally a vice-captain?”

“A vice-captain with an attitude problem.” You glance at Mitsuya, narrowing your eyes “I bet if he smiled too hard, his face would crack.”

Emma hums “Or maybe he doesn’t smile because someone keeps throwing french fries at his head.”

“That happened one time.”

“It happened yesterday.”

“Still a one time thing”

From across the room, Mitsuya sighs.

You whip around immediately “SEE?! He does it every time I talk!”

Pah chokes on his drink “This is painful to watch.”

“Yeah, this is getting ridiculous.” Smiley says, grinning “I mean, how long are they gonna keep this up?”

You frown “Keep what up?”

Before anyone can answer, Chifuyu suddenly drops onto the couch beside you, looking suspiciously smug “Hey, Y/N, quick question.”

You squint “What?”

“If you had to be stranded on a deserted island with one person, would you pick Mitsuya?”

“I’d rather drink seawater.”

“I’d rather swim into a shark’s mouth.” Mitsuya deadpans from across the room.

Baji nearly dies laughing “YEAH, SURE, OKAY.”

“See?!” You spin toward Emma and Hina, motioning wildly at Mitsuya “He hates me!”

They exchange a look. The same one they’ve been giving you for months. The one that makes you feel like you’re missing a really obvious joke.

“Right.” Hina says.

“Absolutely.” Emma agrees.

You narrow your eyes “…Why do I feel like you guys know something I don’t?”

Before either of them can respond, Draken suddenly clears his throat “Alright, enough. I can’t watch this disaster any longer.”

Mikey, who had been quietly eating dorayaki, finally speaks up “I say we lock them in a room.”

You freeze “Wait, what?”

Mitsuya’s head snaps up “Excuse me?”

Mikey shrugs, unbothered “Just until they confess.”

The room erupts.

“I love that idea.” Smiley howls.

“Let’s do it.” Baji grins.

Even Hakkai, the nice one, nods “It’d save us a lot of time.”

You shoot up from your seat “Confess what??”

Mitsuya groans, rubbing his temples “You guys are actual morons.”

“No, you two are morons,” Chifuyu corrects “We are just fixing it.”

You’re about to argue when Emma grabs your arm.

Hina grabs your other arm.

“WAIT—”

Before you can fight back, they drag you toward the nearest empty room.

You hear a loud thud as Mitsuya gets shoved inside with you, his voice sharp with irritation “Are you serious right now?”

The door slams shut.

Then they locked it.

“I’m going to murder them...” Mitsuya mutters.

You press your forehead against the door, horror settling in “Not if I do it first.”

The room is dead silent.

You and Mitsuya stand on opposite sides, both facing the door, both processing the absolute betrayal that just happened.

Your friends... your traitorous, nosy friends... have actually locked you inside a tiny room with Mitsuya.

And they’re not letting you out until one of you confesses.

Which is never happening since Mitsuya hates you.

After what feels like a full minute, you finally turn to him “…This is your fault.”

Mitsuya scoffs “My fault? You’re the one who keeps picking fights with me.”

“Because you hate me!”

He groans, rubbing his temples like you’re giving him a migraine “I don’t hate you.”

“You literally just said you’d rather get eaten by a shark than be stuck on an island with me.”

“Because you said you’d rather die first!”

You squint at him “So what? You just had to one-up me?”

“You started it!”

Before you can throw something at his stupidly calm face, you hear muffled voices outside the door.

“They’re fighting already.” Chifuyu says, laughing.

“Give it ten minutes,” Baji snickers “One of them’s gonna snap.”

You whip around and bang on the door “LET ME OUT, YOU BASTARDS.”

“Nope!” Emma’s voice is way too cheerful “Not until you confess~”

You can practically hear Hina smirking “Take your time, though. We’ve got all night.”

Oh, they are so dead.

You turn back to Mitsuya, eyes burning with pure rage “Okay. We need a plan.”

He raises an eyebrow “A plan?”

“Yes.” You cross your arms and whisper “We pretend to confess so they let us out.”

Mitsuya gives you a flat look “You want to fake confess?”

“Unless you have a better idea?”

He sighs, shaking his head “Fine. But they’re not gonna believe it if it sounds fake.”

You frown “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you can’t just say, ‘Oh wow, I actually love you so much, let me out now’” he deadpans “They’re expecting that.”

You blink “…Okay, that was actually a really good impression of me.”

“Yeah, because all you do is yell.”

“See?! You do hate me!”

Mitsuya groans “Oh my god.”

Outside, the entire Toman gang is eavesdropping, fully entertained.

“They’re hopeless.” Smiley laughs.

“We might be here for a whole while.” Hakkai mutters.

Mikey hums, finishing off his dorayaki “Nah. They’ll break soon.”

Baji grins “Wanna bet?”

Back inside, you take a deep breath “Okay, fine. If we have to make it believable, let’s just, ugh... compliment each other.”

Mitsuya leans against the wall, arms crossed “Alright. You go first.”

You narrow your eyes “…Why do I have to go first?”

“Because this was your dumb plan.”

“Fine.” You huff, crossing your arms “Ugh. I guess… you’re good at sewing or whatever.”

Mitsuya blinks “That’s it?”

“What, do you want me to write you a poem?”

He sighs dramatically “Okay, my turn. You’re… not completely unbearable.”

You glare “Wow. Romantic.”

“We’re fake confessing, not getting engaged.”

“Whatever. Now let’s just—”

Suddenly, you hear whispers outside.

“They’re faking it.” Hina says.

“Obviously.” Draken mutters.

Mikey sighs “Alright. Plan B.”

Before you can even ask what Plan B is, a vent above you suddenly opens...

AND A WATER BOTTLE COMES FLYING THROUGH.

Right into Mitsuya’s head.

The silence is deafening.

Then Baji starts screaming with laughter.

Mitsuya just closes his eyes, inhales slowly, and mutters, “I hate all of you.”

You’re wheezing on the floor.

Mitsuya stands perfectly still, eyes closed, jaw clenched. The water bottle that smacked him in the head rolls across the floor.

You, meanwhile, are dying.

Clutching your stomach, you collapse against the wall, gasping between wheezes “I—I can’t—They sniped you!”

From outside the door, Baji is howling with laughter.

“Did you see that shot?” Smiley cackles “Perfect headshot!”

“Who even threw that?!” Hakkai asks, struggling to breathe.

“…Me.” Mikey answers, sounding vaguely proud.

Mitsuya exhales slowly, rubbing his temples “I swear to god.”

You wipe tears from your eyes, still grinning “Hey, at least you’re hydrated.”

He shoots you a deadpan stare “Do you want to die?”

Before you can answer, Emma’s voice rings from outside “Alright, new plan! If you two don’t confess in the next five minutes, we’re dropping more stuff through the vent.”

Hina hums “What’s next? A shoe?”

“A chair?” Chifuyu suggests.

Baji snickers “I say we drop Takemichi.”

“WHAT?!” Takemichi’s panicked voice echoes from somewhere in the back.

Mitsuya pinches the bridge of his nose “I hate every single person outside this door.”

You sigh dramatically “Welcome to my world.”

He glances at you “You are part of the problem.”

You put a hand over your heart “Wow. Just say you hate me and go.”

“I said I don’t hate you.” he groans.

“Oh? Then why do you always sigh when I talk?”

“Because you never shut up.”

You gasp, utterly offended “Wow. I’m actually hurt. Crushed. I might cry.”

“Good.”

You glare “You know what? Maybe I will fake confess just to get out of here.”

Mitsuya shrugs “Be my guest.”

You pause. Then, smirking, you turn toward the door.

“OH MITSUYA,” you call dramatically “I HAVE BEEN IN LOVE WITH YOU FOR YEARS. YOUR SILVER HAIR SHINES LIKE THE MOON, YOUR SEWING SKILLS BRING TEARS TO MY EYES, AND EVERY TIME YOU IGNORE ME, IT MAKES ME FALL HARDER. PLEASE, TAKE ME NOW.”

The silence outside is deafening.

Then... Everyone BURSTS OUT LAUGHING.

Baji is SCREAMING. Smiley sounds like he’s choking. Chifuyu is wheezing.

Mikey hums “Sounds fake.”

Draken snorts “Zero emotion.”

Emma sighs “Yeah, that was a terrible confession.”

You scowl “Okay, rude.”

Mitsuya shakes his head “Told you they wouldn’t buy it.”

You cross your arms “Fine. You confess, then.”

He scoffs “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you got us into this mess!”

Mitsuya stares at you, incredulous “HOW is this my fault?!”

“You exist!”

“You threw a french fry at my head yesterday!”

You wave him off “That’s unrelated.”

Mitsuya groans, dragging a hand down his face “We are never getting out of here.”

Outside, the group listens with growing frustration.

“They’re actually so dumb.” Hina mutters.

Emma sighs “Alright, time for drastic measures.”

Chifuyu grins “Are we pulling the ‘fake love rival’ card?”

Pah nods “Yup.”

Baji smirks “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Back inside, you’re still bickering when suddenly...

“HEY, Y/N!”

It’s Chifuyu.

You blink “Uh… what?”

“I just wanna say,” Chifuyu continues loudly, “if Mitsuya doesn’t like you, you could always date me instead.”

You freeze.

Mitsuya’s expression goes blank.

The room is dead silent.

Then...

“…Excuse me?” Mitsuya says flatly.

Baji immediately jumps in “Yeah! Y’know what? I’ve always thought Y/N was cute.”

“Same.” Smiley adds, way too enthusiastically.

Even Hakkai joins in “Y-Yeah! A-amazing!”

You blink rapidly “H-Hold on! Fake or not, this is embarassing!”

Mitsuya’s entire aura shifts.

His jaw tightens. His usual calm expression darkens. And when he speaks his voice is low.

“Not. Funny.”

The noise outside dies instantly.

You swallow. Mitsuya isn’t smiling anymore.

“…Mitsuya?” you say cautiously.

He turns toward you. And for the first time, he looks genuinely, actually pissed.

Then he takes a step closer.

You instinctively step back “H-Hey, let’s not murder anyone… I didn’t even say anything!”

But he just keeps walking.

And suddenly, you’re backed against the wall.

Trapped.

Mitsuya places a hand on the wall next to your head, leaning in just enough to make your breath hitch. His violet eyes lock onto yours, unreadable.

“…You really think I hate you?” he murmurs.

Your stomach flips.

“I—I mean, yeah?” you stammer “You never laugh at my jokes, you’re always sighing at me, and you just look like you hate me—”

Mitsuya exhales sharply, tilting his head “You’re actually so dumb.”

Your brain short-circuits “EXCUSE ME—”

Then before you can react he leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead.

Your entire soul leaves your body.

He just—MITSUYA TAKASHI JUST...........

Outside, you hear someone drop something.

“…WHAT?!” Baji’s scream shakes the walls.

“NO FREAKING WAY!” Chifuyu shouts.

Draken whistles “Well, damn.”

You, meanwhile, are still frozen.

Mitsuya pulls back, watching you carefully “…Still think I hate you?”

You stare at him, completely stunned. Your brain isn’t functioning. Your words aren’t working. Your body refuses to move.

You’re still processing the fact that Mitsuya just kissed you.

Mitsuya smirks, patting your head “Thought so.”

Then he turns toward the door.

“We’re done here,” he calls out “Let us out.”

Still in shock, you hear the click of the door unlocking.

Mitsuya steps out first, walking past a completely stunned Toman gang.

Baji looks betrayed. Emma and Hina are grinning like maniacs. Chifuyu has tears in his eyes.

You, meanwhile, are still standing in the room.

Mikey leans in “Hey, Y/N?”

You blink.

“…You good?”

Your mouth opens. Then closes.

Then you promptly drop to the floor.

Mitsuya’s stupid smirk is the last thing you see before you die inside.

And now you are malfunctioning.

You’re still sitting on the floor of the tiny room, staring at absolutely nothing while the entire Toman gang loses their minds.

Baji looks like someone personally betrayed him “ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!”

Chifuyu clutches his chest, tears in his eyes “That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”

Draken just nods “Yeah. That was smooth.”

Mikey hums “Mm. Approved.”

Emma and Hina? Squealing.

Meanwhile, Mitsuya is just standing there like he didn’t just destroy your entire existence.

And you’re still not breathing.

Mikey waves a hand in front of your face “Oi, Y/N. Earth to Y/N.”

No response.

Smiley snickers “She’s broken.”

Mitsuya sighs, crossing his arms “Oh, come on.” He looks down at you, unimpressed “It was just a forehead kiss.”

You snap back to life.

“JUST a forehead kiss?!” You shoot up from the floor, absolutely unhinged “DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU JUST DID?!”

He shrugs “I got us out, didn’t I?”

“BY SHORT-CIRCUITING MY BRAIN?!”

Mitsuya smirks “Worked, didn’t it?”

You let out an ungodly noise, somewhere between a scream and a strangled sob.

Baji grabs you by the shoulders, looking deeply into your eyes “You cannot let this stand.”

You grip his arms “What do I do?”

Baji’s eyes darken “You fight.”

Chifuyu gasps “You flirt back.”

The entire gang nods, suddenly forming a revenge plan.

Mitsuya still completely calm “You guys are all idiots.”

You whip around dramatically “Fine. If this is war, then so be it.” You point at Mitsuya “From this moment forward, I will make you suffer.”

Mitsuya actually laughs at that “Good luck with that.”

You narrow your eyes “Oh, it’s on.”

The entire gang watches in pure excitement.

Baji claps you on the back “I believe in you.”

Hina grins “We will support this battle.”

Emma nods seriously “For justice.”

Mikey hums “This is gonna be fun.”

And Mitsuya just smirks.

“Go ahead,” he says smoothly “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Oh, he thinks he’s untouchable.

You crack your knuckles.

The war has begun.

The next day, Mitsuya strolls into the Toman hangout like nothing happened, all cool and collected, like he didn’t just completely wreck your brain with a forehead kiss.

“Morning.” he greets casually, looking around at the gang.

You smile sweetly, practically gloating as you walk up to him “Mitsuya, hey.”

He blinks at you, raising an eyebrow “What?”

You lean in, just close enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath on his cheek “You look good today.” you say smoothly, with a mischievous glint in your eye.

The entire room goes quiet. Even the usually chill Draken looks up, clearly interested in what’s going on.

Mitsuya freezes for a split second, before narrowing his eyes “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” you reply innocently, flipping your hair and walking past him with a sassy sway in your step.

You can feel his eyes on your back, and when you glance over your shoulder, you catch him blinking rapidly. Oh, this is going to be so much fun.

The gang is watching this entire exchange like it’s some kind of highly entertaining drama.

Chifuyu leans over to Baji, whispering loudly, “She’s really doing it. She’s flirting with him.”

Baji grins “Oh yeah, she is. This is going to be amazing.”

Mikey grins too “She’s not backing down. Mitsuya doesn’t even know how to respond.”

“Good. I’ve been waiting for this.” Draken mutters, a grin tugging at his lips.

The war is on.

Mitsuya, ever the cool guy, tries to act like he’s unbothered by your sudden flirty energy, but he’s not as cool as he thinks.

You notice his hand twitching every time you walk by him now. And when you catch him looking at you? He quickly looks away.

Perfect.

Later that day, you find yourself sitting on the couch, lazily flipping through the pages of a manga, when Mitsuya walks in, his usual calm demeanor slightly… off. His eyes flicker to you and then away, but he can’t seem to make up his mind.

You look up at him slowly, a coy smile on your lips “You know, Mitsuya…” You drag out his name, and you swear you see his eyes widen just a fraction “I was thinking… I could totally use someone like you in my life. You’re pretty handy with those sewing skills you have.”

Mitsuya tilts his head, trying to keep his cool “I’ve been sewing for years, Y/N.”

“I know,” you reply, leaning in a little, “and I’m sure I could come up with so many… ways to make use of you.” You say it so sweetly, almost like you’re not even trying “You could sew for me anytime.”

The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Mitsuya doesn’t even flinch “You’re really playing this game, huh?”

You tilt your head, almost innocently as you look at him “You started it, didn’t you?”

By the next day, you’ve got the whole Toman gang in on the act. You’re working overtime to make Mitsuya squirm, and it’s working.

“Mitsuya,” you call sweetly as he walks by “Your jacket looks really nice today. I think I’m starting to have a thing for you in leather.”

He freezes mid-step. His face flushes just the tiniest bit, and it only makes you grin wider.

He looks back at you, eyes narrowed “You’re not serious.”

You smile even more “Maybe I am,” you reply with a wink “What if I told you I could get very serious? About you?”

The entire gang is watching again. They’re all dying from the tension.

Mitsuya stands still, visibly flustered, and you can almost see him thinking. He’s trying to stay calm, but you know it’s killing him on the inside.

“…Stop messing around, Y/N.” he mutters, his voice a little rougher than usual.

“Oh, I’m not messing around,” you reply smoothly “You want me to stop, but you don’t really want me to. You just like making me work for it.”

You pause “But I don’t mind. I’m patient. I can wait. I’m worth it.”

There’s a long pause. Mitsuya looks like he’s about to combust “You’re impossible.”

“I’m not impossible,” you say sweetly “I’m just… irresistible.”

That evening, the gang is once again hanging out in the main area of Toman’s HQ. You’re sitting on the couch next to Mitsuya, your legs casually brushing against his, and you’re making absolutely no attempt to move away. He’s clearly trying his hardest not to react, but you can feel the tension crackling between you two.

Finally, he speaks, and you can tell he’s struggling to keep it together “Y/N, you’re—you’re really pushing it, you know that?”

You turn to him, locking eyes, and then smile so sweetly it might as well be a challenge “Am I? I think I’m just giving you what you’ve wanted this whole time.”

For a moment, Mitsuya doesn’t say anything. He looks like he’s about to explode, and you’re getting a strange thrill out of it.

The entire gang is watching, and you can hear Baji mutter under his breath, “I don’t know how she does it…”

But Mitsuya looks like he’s finally had enough.

“Okay, fine,” he says, his voice much quieter than before “You want me to say it?”

You look at him, completely unbothered, but on the inside your heart is racing.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck “Fine. I like you, okay? I don’t know how to handle it, but I do. Happy now?”

For a second, you freeze.

Did he just...?

But before you can react, Mitsuya looks at you with a half-smile “So, are you gonna stop flirting with me, or is this part of your strategy?”

The air is thick with tension, but now you’re the one left speechless.

You were so sure you had the upper hand in this war.

You were winning. Mitsuya was flustered, avoiding your gaze, tripping over his words. Everything was going perfectly.

And then, in a cruel twist of fate he confessed first.

You didn’t even get to enjoy your victory because now you’re the one malfunctioning.

Your brain is short-circuiting. Your heart is staging a full-on rebellion.

Mitsuya likes you. He likes you.

And he said it so casually, like it wasn’t the thing you’ve been avoiding this whole time.

Now, as you sit next to him, his words still hanging in the air, you realize something absolutely horrifying:

You have no idea how to respond.

The gang is dead silent.

Baji’s jaw is practically on the floor.

Chifuyu’s eyes are wide with pure betrayal.

Mikey is still munching on his snack, but even he looks impressed.

Emma and Hina are squeezing each other’s arms like they just witnessed the season finale of the best drama ever.

And Mitsuya is just watching you with a smug look, arms crossed, so much more confident now that the tables have turned.

“…Well?” he asks, tilting his head “Nothing to say?”

You narrow your eyes at him, even though your heart is currently going through every stage of grief.

Oh, he thinks he’s won.

Well, joke’s on him. You’re not going down that easily.

So, with every ounce of fake confidence you have left, you clear your throat and smirk “Huh. That’s cute. You like me? Should I be flattered?”

Mitsuya raises an eyebrow “You’re the one who’s been flirting with me for days.”

You wave a hand dismissively “Oh, Mitsuya, sweetie, I flirt with everyone.”

The room erupts.

Chifuyu gasps “Did she—did she just friendzone him?!”

Draken bursts out laughing.

Emma screams into her hands.

Meanwhile, Mitsuya is still watching you, his expression unreadable “Oh, really?”

“Really,” you say with a playful smirk “I mean, you’re cute and all, but you’re taking this way too seriously.”

There. That should put you back in control.

You expect Mitsuya to roll his eyes. To get flustered again. To suffer.

But instead, he leans in.

Closer.

Too close.

Dangerously close.

And suddenly, you are no longer in control.

You freeze.

The room goes silent again.

Mitsuya’s voice is low, his lips barely an inch away from yours “If I took it seriously…” His eyes are locked onto yours, amusement flickering in them “Would that be a problem for you?”

You cannot breathe.

Your entire soul leaves your body.

Hina is holding onto Emma like they’re watching a horror movie now.

Draken actually whistles.

Mikey grins.

“Ohhhh,” he hums “She’s losing.”

And you are.

Because your brain has completely shut down.

Mitsuya is still watching you, waiting for your next move, waiting to see if you’ll break first.

And the worst part is that you are.

Your face is burning. Your heart is racing.

You can’t even come up with a comeback, and that is the biggest loss of all.

You’ve played yourself.

And Mitsuya knows it.

Slowly, finally, he pulls back, looking so satisfied with himself “That’s what I thought.”

Then, like he didn’t just ruin your entire existence, he stands up and stretches “Alright, I’m heading home.”

And with that he leaves.

The door shuts behind him.

The silence is deafening.

And then the gang loses their minds.

“YOU LOST.” Baji howls, pointing at you like he just witnessed history.

“She broke first!” Chifuyu shrieks.

Mikey leans back with a smug look “Mitsuya just won this whole thing.”

Hina and Emma are literally shaking you.

Draken chuckles “Damn. That was smooth.”

And you just sit there, completely frozen, hands gripping your knees, re-evaluating your entire life.

Because for the first time ever…

You have absolutely no idea what to do next.

You sit there, frozen, while the rest of the gang absolutely loses their minds around you.

Baji is cackling like he’s just won the lottery. Chifuyu keeps repeating, “She lost! She lost!” like a damn sports commentator. Hina and Emma are shaking you like they’re trying to exorcise the embarrassment out of your soul.

And Mikey is just sitting there, smug as hell, casually sipping on his juice box like he knew this was going to happen the entire time.

Meanwhile, you are stuck in complete denial.

Because no. No way. Mitsuya did not just turn everything around on you. He did not just completely dismantle your entire game plan with one smug little smirk.

You refuse to accept this.

You refuse.

Which is why, before your brain can catch up with your actions, you’re already on your feet.

You barely hear Emma calling after you “Where are you going?!” as you storm out of the Toman hideout and straight after Mitsuya.

You catch up to him a few blocks away, walking casually down the dimly lit street like he didn’t just destroy your entire existence a few minutes ago.

“Mitsuya!” you call out, breathless.

He pauses mid-step and turns around, raising an eyebrow “Oh? What happened to ‘I flirt with everyone’?”

Your eye twitches “Shut up.”

He smirks.

Oh, he’s enjoying this.

And it’s pissing you off.

You stomp closer, standing right in front of him, hands clenched at your sides. You don’t even know why you ran after him. You don’t even know what you’re going to say.

All you know is that you’re flustered, frustrated, and maybe you like him more than you were ever willing to admit.

Mitsuya watches you, amusement flickering in his eyes “So?” he asks, tilting his head “Something you wanna say?”

Your heart is racing.

Your brain is a complete mess.

But your pride is still kicking and refusing to back down.

So, instead of saying something remotely sane or rational, you blurt out “You cheated!”

Mitsuya blinks “What?”

“That wasn’t fair!” you exclaim, pointing an accusing finger at him “You knew I was messing with you, and then you just—just flipped it on me!”

His smirk widens “You sound mad.”

“I am mad!” you huff “You...You can’t just say you like me and then pull that stupid smooth move and...and make me malfunction!”

Mitsuya just crosses his arms, watching you ramble “Huh. Sounds like you’re flustered.”

You scoff “Me? Flustered? Ha! Please. I’m just—I’m just calling out your dirty tactics!”

He steps closer.

Too close.

You stop breathing.

Mitsuya looks down at you, eyes glinting with something dangerous.

Oh no.

Not this again.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs.

You hate how your breath catches.

You hate how your face gets hotter.

But most of all, you hate how badly you want to close the distance between you two.

And maybe Mitsuya sees it too.

Because instead of teasing you more, instead of pressing further, he suddenly sighs and shakes his head “You’re impossible.”

Your heart sinks a little at that.

But before you can even react, before you can even think of something to say Mitsuya lifts a hand and flicks your forehead.

“OW—”

He smirks “That’s for running after me like a dramatic little idiot.”

You glare at him, rubbing your forehead “Excuse me for wanting to have the last word!”

Mitsuya chuckles “You never do get the last word with me.”

You narrow your eyes at him “Oh, you wish.”

But before the teasing can continue, a comfortable silence settles between you two. The streetlights cast a soft glow around you, the night air cool against your skin.

And suddenly, neither of you are talking.

Suddenly, you’re just… standing there.

You glance at Mitsuya, expecting to see his usual smug expression, but he’s not smirking anymore. He’s just looking at you, his face unreadable, his usual confident aura a little more… unsure.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck “You really don’t know, do you?”

You blink “Know what?”

Mitsuya exhales through his nose, then mutters, almost to himself, “God, you really are stubborn.”

“Excuse me—”

And then, Mitsuya takes your hand.

Not roughly. Not playfully.

Just softly. Firmly.

Your breath catches.

Mitsuya looks down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing against your knuckles “You really think I hate you?”

Your mouth opens but no words come out.

Because, oh.

Oh.

This… This isn’t a game anymore.

Your heart is pounding. Your mind is spinning.

And all you can do is stand there, completely lost in the way Mitsuya is holding your hand like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“You’re an idiot,” he says, but his voice is gentle “I never hated you.”

You swallow thickly “I—”

Mitsuya sighs again, this time almost affectionately.

And then he laces his fingers with yours.

And you swear the world stops spinning.

You stare at your intertwined fingers.

Your brain has completely shut down.

Mitsuya... calm, cool, composed Mitsuya, is holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like this isn’t something that is completely rewriting everything you thought you knew about him. About yourself.

Your mouth opens, then closes. Then opens again. But no words come out because, for the first time in your entire life, you don’t have a comeback.

Mitsuya watches you, eyes glinting with something unreadable. His usual teasing smirk is gone.

This isn’t a joke anymore.

This isn’t a game.

This is real.

And it’s terrifying.

Finally, finally, Mitsuya sighs, giving your hand a light squeeze “You don’t have to say anything, you know.”

You blink “I—”

“I know,” he says, softer this time “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

Your breath catches.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it?

Even before all the flirting, even before the teasing, even before the war, Mitsuya has always known you better than anyone else.

And now, he’s looking at you with that same understanding, like he knows exactly what’s running through your head right now.

Like he knows you’re scared.

Like he knows you’ve spent so long convincing yourself this was just a joke, just a game, just another thing to mess with him about—because admitting it was real meant admitting that you’ve already lost.

That you’ve always lost.

Because the truth?

You were never really fighting him.

You were fighting yourself.

Mitsuya smiles faintly, tilting his head “So?” he murmurs “Are you done running yet?”

You suck in a sharp breath.

And then you do something completely reckless.

You step forward, drop his hand, grab his face and kiss him.

Mitsuya freezes for half a second before he melts into it, his hands instantly finding your waist, pulling you closer like he’s been waiting for this.

The kiss is soft. Slow.

But at the same time it’s everything.

Everything you’ve been avoiding. Everything you’ve been too afraid to say. Everything you’ve been pretending wasn’t there.

It’s Mitsuya.

And that’s the scariest part of all.

When you finally pull away, Mitsuya is looking at you like you’ve just completely ruined him.

His breath is uneven. His grip on your waist is still firm, like he’s making sure you’re real.

And then he grins.

Smug. Triumphant.

“Wow,” he breathes, amused “So you do like me.”

You groan, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder “You’re the worst.”

He laughs, wrapping his arms around you, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head “And you’re mine now”

Your heart stumbles.

You should fight him on that. You should.

But…

You don’t.

Because maybe you don’t mind losing after all.

You knew.

You knew walking into Toman’s usual meeting spot today was going to be a nightmare.

You considered not showing up. Just… disappearing from society. Moving to another country. Changing your name. Starting a new life.

But unfortunately, Mitsuya had dragged you here.

Literally.

“You can’t avoid them forever.” he had said this morning, looking way too smug for someone who also has to deal with the consequences of last night.

Now, as you step inside, every single pair of eyes snaps to you and Mitsuya, and...

Yeah. You should have faked an illness.

Because the entire gang loses their minds.

“OH MY GOD, IT HAPPENED.” Hina shrieks, nearly shaking Emma to death.

Emma, in turn, is crying “I—I knew it! I knew it! My ship—my beautiful ship—has sailed!”

Chifuyu stands up so fast his chair scrapes against the floor “WAIT. WAIT. WHEN? HOW?!”

Baji, of course, skips all rational responses and goes straight to chaos “HEY, WHO CONFESSED FIRST?!”

Mikey, still sitting in his usual lazy position, just grins “Didn’t even have to bet on it. Saw it coming from a mile away.”

Draken leans against the wall, shaking his head with a chuckle “Well, damn. Took you long enough.”

You groan, covering your face “Oh my god. I hate all of you.”

Mitsuya, the traitor, just slides his hands into his pockets, completely unfazed “See? Told you they wouldn’t shut up about it.”

You whip your head toward him “You knew this would happen, and you still dragged me here?!”

He grins, so damn smug “Of course.”

Baji slams his hand on the table “WAIT, WAIT, WAIT—SO WHO WON THE FLIRT WAR?”

Chifuyu immediately turns to you, eyes blazing with betrayal “It was him, wasn’t it?! You lost, didn’t you?!”

You refuse to answer.

Which is answer enough.

“OH MY GOD,” Baji howls with laughter “SHE LOST!”

Chifuyu grabs his head, devastated “I had so much faith in you!”

Emma sniffles dramatically “She lost the battle, but she won love.”

Hina nods, serious “It’s the best kind of loss.”

Takemichi just hums in satisfaction “Balance has been restored to the universe.”

Meanwhile, you are this close to throwing yourself out.

“I hate all of you.” you repeat.

Mitsuya leans down, voice way too smug “You love me, though.”

Your entire body malfunctions.

And everyone loses it again.

Baji actually falls off his chair.

Chifuyu looks personally attacked “Oh, this is painful.”

Draken claps Mitsuya on the back, laughing “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

And Mitsuya just smiles, absolutely thriving in your suffering.

Yeah.

Yeah, you’re never living this down.

But then, Mitsuya takes your hand, gives it a light squeeze and okay.

kazutora hanemiya "you—!"

kazutora is the type of guy to cook you dinner every night. spending most of his life alone (emotionally and often physically), he got used to cooking for himself rather than endure social situations. so cooking for you became a habit as well. little did he know that his cooking routine serves as the perfect opportunity to get a lil booty smack in. 😈 picture him cutting scallions, minding his own business, maybe playing some music quietly from his phone... you walk behind him, inoccuously appearing to grab something from the fridge. but instead, you slap his butt as you walk by, a little smirk playing on your face. bro is in SHOCK. he immediately whirls around with a gasp. "you—!" "sorry babe, it was right there. couldn't resist." "i'm—" he splutters, "i'm cutting scallions right now. you can't just—" "but i did." he lets out a long-suffering sigh, "you're....unbelievable." you don't miss the red creeping up his neck and across ears. he's going to pretend he didn't like it, but he 100% did, and 100% hopes you do it again. expect him to freeze up a little each time you walk past him while he's cooking (in anticipation, lol).

haruchiyo sanzu *laughs* "really? that all you got?"

did you really think you could get away with anything when it comes to this guy? he's practically the definition of "payback". what you thought was an innocent slap on his butt when he stands up after the movie is over is actually an unintended invitation to Getting What's Coming To You. he's actually incapable of not making this A Thing. so when you slap his butt, at first he just laughs. a little chuckle, and you think that's it. but then he turns his head to you with a lopsided smile, brows raised and says, "really? that all you got?" but before you can do anything else, he's grabbed your wrist and is pulling you up to a standing position. you open your mouth to question him, but he's already moving closer, until his entire body is pressed against yours. if you've been dating sanzu for awhile, you know just by the look in his eyes what comes next. he squints, eyes full of mirth, as his hands find the back of your thighs. then, slowly, he slides them up over your ass and squeezes, and not softly either. his mouth tips up when he hears you yelp in surprise, his eyes wandering down to your lips and shamelessly remaining there. "you're not done already, are you? i'm just getting started." my condolences to you.

izana kurokawa "..."