our victory was written in the stars
you remind oikawa tooru of the moment suspended between the whistle and the serve.
when the air stills, the court hushes, that it feels like the crowd is holding its breath. it is the smallest slice of time â a second, maybe less â a type of concentration heâs always been hooked on, always known. the razor-edge between the start and the score, the tipping point where anticipation crystallizes into something sharp enough to cut. the ringing of pulse in his ears, when the world narrows to the ball in his hands and the space just beyond the net.
lately, thatâs what you feel like to him â like the tension in the air before the leap.
and he finds it amusing, how someone who carries themselves so lightly, like weightless air in the way you breeze from window to window, glossed lips, little coat â laidback, easy with your charm â is also the same person whose gaze sharpens like a blade the moment the scent of victory is in the air.
and oikawa tooru, of all people, would know what obsession looks like.
he sees it in your eyes sometimes, a crazed flicker behind black pools and long lashes. the feverish glint. like the strike of thunder about to hit calm water. a hunger disguised as stillness. a look oikawa knows too well, worn by people who will not stop at something until they win, and then after. a look that belongs to people who would do anything for the one perfect moment of victory. and he can't tell if you notice it. he wonders if it's him rubbing of on you, how you've grown out of yourself into someone who ignores the bleed, like you're immune to the fever in your veins chasing after the perfect breathless second.
you remind him of the moment between the toss and the serve.
the gap in between two heartbeats in which the ball spins weightless against blinding lights, like its own star in orbit, with a toss honed through practice, laced with intention, with purpose â to score, to win, to break.
and in many ways you remind him of a star, bright like a blaze at your best and bordering burning destruction at others. a star, that oikawa has spent years loving in all ways love could ever possibly take shape â in childish adoration and firm devotion, in the blaze and in softness. a star, that oikawa likes to call his. with your face in his hands and the twinkle in your eyes so fond and brilliant everytime he says your name. his star, love's face. one that he will watch over in your pursuit of chase, in your hunger for thrill. a star he would never want to see hidden away in anyone's pocket again. that he will watch rise and fall and break and be victorious again and again, for as long as you let him. for as long as you come home to him, that he will be with you through every lost and victory just the same. you are a star worth following, this is the truth. and oikawa tooru will love you through it all.
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