「 僕じゃダメですか? 」
TOORU wants to hear nothing about the crap his team is spouting right now. no, he doesn't care that you're the topic of interest—especially because you're the topic of interest.
a conversation about who you like? out of the question.
but as annoyed as he is, his ears perk up at the sound of your voice. he desperately wants to know who you like, if you like someone at all.
"guys," you wave your hands in a gesture of dismissal. "let's focus on practicing now."
"well, too bad for captain, huh? he'd love to know," makki says, shrugging.
"what did you say?!" tooru glares at him from the opposite side of the table.
"so you were listening," mattsun states.
"i just- just tuned in."
most of the days, it feels like his own team is out for his blood. really, there's nothing rewarding about being a captain. sometimes though, the affection pours out from his team, in the trust they have, and tooru's pride can reclaim its place.
but right now, his team is most certainly trying to bury him alive. makki shoots him an impetinent look and tooru wishes he could unleash iwa-chan like a guard dog on the boy. he knows the consequence of that though. at least the back of his head remembers.
tooru glances at you again, looking far too cute in the seijoh manager uniform—has it always been that pretty a blue? he can't remember. you make everything look pretty.
even the way you say his name is so lovely, he thinks.
"tooru-kun. tooru?"
gah, you calling his name like that is so unfair. he's at a loss now, daydreaming about you in broad daylight.
"oi, shithead, can you stop zoning out?" iwaizumi returns from the infirmary, his fingers firmly bandaged now. practice injuries are common but it's never a pretty sight. tooru is usually on the receiving end of those, and just thinking about the way you'd patch him up quickens the pace of his heartbeat. oh, this, this is irredeemable.
"iwaizumi-kun," you turn to him, concern in your eyes. "you shouldn't overwork yourself. take some time to heal from your injuries."
iwaizumi scratches the back of his head, a low blush creeping up on his cheeks. "ah, yeah. i will."
of course, there's this. his best friend is in love with you.
tooru can't for the life of him figure out if you like iwaizumi back. hence, the nasty brew of jealousy and the unease of a poorly timed crush. you're kind to everyone on the team, not just tooru. (though, you do tend to scold him more.) you smile at everyone you meet and your fingers are nimble with most things you touch, not just his skin. so what can give you away?
besides, tooru is most certainly the horrible sort of jerk to wish iwa-chan would give up and find someone to date before anything happens. if you like iwaizumi, it's game over for tooru. he'll always choose his best friend, like habit, but you, and your very presence, make him want to break habit. he really is irredeemable.
"y/n," iwaizumi says all of a sudden. "can we talk after practice?"
oh no. it's happening far sooner than tooru thought it would. does iwaizumi have to be so bold all the time? it makes him look bad, as the feared captain of aoba johsai.
a few knowing looks are shared across the team. tooru swears he just saw makki slide a few yen to mattsun.
but he finds his answer right then, perhaps a little late. it's like cracks on a wall, widening slowly but surely into an unlivable mess.
as picture perfect as you are, your smile wavers at iwaizumi's statement. tooru's eyes don't miss the way you look at iwa-chan, that awestruck smile on your face making tooru wish it were him instead. he knows the lovestruck look all too well. it doesn't suit himself much. he’s not smiling anymore; at least not in a way that’s genuine.
"would it be so bad if it were me?" he whispers, turning back to the familiar feel of leather in his hands.
he knows the answer to that too. it would. he only wants what he can't have, and you shouldn't be loved by someone like that. it's not a walk in the park to love someone, not to mention the pain it brings. tooru's hands fumble. he didn't think it'd turn out this way, to be left in a fountain of hopelessness.
but oikawa tooru, for what he's worth, knows that he'll always be hopeless when it comes to you, and to love. nothing is ever enough.
he grips the ball firmly once again.
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— heartbreak
[ note: timeskip! ]
sometimes, just sometimes, tooru wonders what you see in him.
when he thinks of you, he thinks of summer. the kimono you wore the day of the fireworks. the matcha shaved ice you shared, whose flavour he decided wasn't so bad. the way he stuttered when asking you out. his pulse quickening when you held his hand in the warmth of yours. the summer wind stroking your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you. he's spent six summers with you and it's still not enough.
tooru only gets this way when he's drunk.
he could write pages about you and he can't remember the last time he picked up a pen. everything reminds him of you.
even as an adult, tooru can't believe he's in love with you. if he were to lose you, summer would be different. he would never breathe in summer air without his breath hitching, or taste the festival snacks in his hometown, or see the colors in fireworks. that's the sort of heartbreak he pictures it would be. the cruelest.
he takes out his phone, your number memorized despite it being saved. you pick up after the third ring.
"baby? is everything okay?"
he smiles at your groggy voice. "were you sleeping? i just wanted to tell you how much i love you."
you laugh. oh, what a sweet sound. "you say that every time you go out drinking. where's iwaizumi? this is supposed to be your big reunion!"
a groan emits from the man beside tooru, and iwaizumi takes the phone. "i'm here."
"iwa-chan!" tooru exclaims, angry. "that's my girlfriend."
"i know. you've said that twenty four times tonight. are you even aware of all the rambling you're doing?"
"we've heard him talk about your perfume for ten minutes, by the way," hanamaki adds.
"and your favourite summer snack for twelve. guess we know his post-retirement career now." matsukawa scratches the back of his head.
snitches, the lot of them.
your smiling hum comes through the speaker. "iwaizumi-kun, should i come pick him up?"
"i can't believe you willingly put up with this, (name)."
you giggle, and another protest erupts from tooru, with an embarrassing voice crack to add to it. it's not like he's noticing it, at this point. "why are you making her laugh?"
"you've told me every detail of your relationship history, i might as well be her boyfriend."
"i know you did not just say that."
"tooru, tooru," you interrupt. "come home."
the gentleness of your voice makes his shoulders relax. the scent of summer fills his sense once more. home is with you, always. and that's why he'll fall apart without you.
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— lovesickness
[ note: timeskip! ]
TOORU sneezes the minute he walks into the house, rubbing at an already-red nose and face. it’s the seasonal change, the onset of winter and its nasty habit of spreading colds and fevers.
unfortunately, your boyfriend whines twice as much when he’s sick. it’s not like you’re any more agreeable when you’re sick, so you’re not really sure how this is supposed to work.
as if on cue, you sneeze right after tooru does, making him narrow his eyes at you from the doorway.
“you too, huh?”
you nod, head still throbbing. tooru flashes you a smile, uncalled for in the predicament you’re in. he quickly takes off his shoes, dropping his bag by the entrance and wasting no time to engulf you in a hug. the contact isn’t as unwelcome as you thought it would be. he’s positively toasty.
“what are you smiling for, stupid?” you huff. “there’s no one to do the dishes now.”
“oh, were you planning to make me do them? after working all day—toiling away like the slave to capitalism i am? i already knew you were cruel, y/n-chan. you don’t have to stop because of a silly little cold.”
“tooru, for the love of god, shut up.”
his arms wrap tighter around you, the warmth of his breath fanning on your shoulder. tooru does give the warmest hugs. it lessens your worrying a bit. he can get fussy over illnesses, especially as an athlete, but he’ll always refuse to show it to you, till you end up by his side with a wet cloth and a bowl of hot rice porridge. a small cold really isn’t the end of the world. but for someone like tooru, every little thing adds up. the body is a temple. (and he’s got quite the marvelous temple, might you add.)
“is it okay for us to touch each other like this?” you ask out loud.
“how else do you want us to touch?”
“idiot. that’s not what i meant. we’re- we’re sick, you know? and you shouldn’t be in contact with sick people. i’ve been hearing a lot of news about the flu lately.”
“ah, come on. we’re both sick. what’s the worst that could happen?”
“our colds adds up and we get sicker?”
“math was never your strong suit, y/n-chan. it’s kind of cute, don’t worry.”
“i’ll hit you.” you huff, turning around to get a clear look at his face. it’s tired but bright just enough when he looks at you. the splotches of red over his face make him look like a child—and that’s exactly what he is sometimes—but right now, you’re more worried about his lax attitude.
“tooru, at least take a bath. if you get any sicker, it’ll be hard on you.”
you can see his eyes soften. a simple gesture or sentence from you gets him to coo at you but of course, nothing good ever comes out of that pretty mouth of his.
“you know i’ve been suffering from a sickness for a long time.”
“what?”
“it’s called lovesickness.”
a smack to his forehead makes him yelp in pain, and his arms loosen around you.
“you’re so mean! and here i thought, you’d give me a kiss.”
you shift uncomfortably, your palm still against his forehead. “tooru, i think you have a fever.”
“so no kiss? that’s a totally lame reason.”
you sigh, glancing at your pouting boyfriend. living with oikawa tooru is not the easiest task. but sometimes, it can be rewarding.
you give in, pressing your lips to his—and somehow, taking him by surprise. tooru’s fingers run circles on your back in a motion so gentle, and you run your fingers through his hair the way he likes it. so there you are in the end, entangled on your shared couch under a blanket, your head resting against his chest and a comfort movie playing on the tv. even like this, you’ve got each other.
you realize it everyday living with tooru; it’s nice to love and to be loved.
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「 子供みたいね 」
TOORU knows that one of these days, he’s going to have to swallow his pride.
but it’s definitely not going to be today. he glares at the back of your head, wondering how someone can be so infuriatingly pretty. he would never offer a genuine compliment out loud — you make his blood boil with that smile of yours — but it’s a fact that even he has come to acknowledge.
“oikawa. did you fall in love with me or something?”
tooru makes a gagging noise. “in your dreams.”
“you were staring though.”
“was not.”
“were too.”
“was not.”
“you’re such a child. focus on your play for once.”
“i always focus on my play!”
why did you have to sign up as one of the club managers? something about you makes him feel hot and cold all at once — and it’s so confusing to him. he had met you on his first day at aoba johsai, a pretty student with top grades that just wouldn’t sway at his incessant flirting. he found out just how much of a demon you are right after, and that drew him in further. iwa-chan calls it a blow to his pride, makki and mattsun call it ‘oikawa being grossly infatuated’.
maybe that’s what it is. maybe he is infatuated with you.
the seijoh blue looks more than that on you. you look at him with the same smiling expression as usual, except perhaps standing a bit stiffer. he’d like to think he makes you flustered too but that’s all there is to it for now.
tooru can’t lose to you. it’s not a good game when he’s losing.
“oikawa—”
“i told you to call me tooru,” he interjects, pouting.
“that makes me sound like your cheer team.”
“eh? shouldn’t you be cheering for me anyway?”
you make a face. “no. saying your name more than once gives me a bad feeling.”
“what’s that supposed to mean?!”
“it feels like i’m summoning a demon or something.”
you smile smugly at his sour face and tooru feels a sudden crest in his heartbeat. that’s the opposite of what he’s supposed to feel. you just have to get in his way all the time, don’t you? he should be concentrating for his match tomorrow and here you are to ruin that.
“whatever. you're staying here late for me, right? maybe it's time you admit your feelings for me.”
you roll your eyes. “you're too bold. what if i had a boyfriend? or someone i like? you flirt without filter.”
tooru looks away, pouting. truth be told, he's the sort of jerk who hopes that the person you like already has someone else. it's awful of him but he can't help it. the thought of you with someone else, which hadn’t occurred to him until now, makes him more annoyed than he should be.
“i... i did stay for you though,” you mumble.
“huh? i didn't catch that. say that again after i take out my phone.”
“shut up. i felt sorry for you practicing all alone in here.”
“ah. you should get home, y/n. it's way past time.” he feels the slightest bit of guilt.
“not until you're done.” you sit down on the bench stubbornly.
tooru feels annoyance bubbling up in his chest. what is this, a competition? either way, he’s not giving up.
“well, since we're the only two in here... should we have some fun?” he teases.
you look away, silent. he blinks in confusion. he expected at least some sort of disgust as response from you. or maybe he's finally crossed the line and you hate him forever. he might run his mouth, but when it comes to having the courage to voice his real feelings, he’s at a devastating loss. what more can he do with this terrible personality of his?
“hey, are you okay? i was only talking about a good luck kiss or something. nothing more.”
he makes his way over to you and much to his surprise, finds you silently giggling.
“you're so annoying, tooru.”
he opens his mouth but no words come. with wide eyes, he can’t do anything beyond gazing at you and your exasperating perfection. you’re just so lovely.
right then, you stand up and in that spark of a moment, he forgets everything — ego, love, vanity.
tooru touches his cheek, the spot where you kissed him, a burn flaring up all the way from his cheeks and nose to his chest. he hates losing — always — but right now, when he’s lost to you, it doesn’t feel as crushing.
“you've worked hard,” you say, smiling. “you don’t need good luck kisses.”
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「 love? like the disease? 」
TOBIO knows it’s a losing war, trying to fight the emotions bubbling in the pit of his stomach. him ignoring the feeling just won’t do. not when he goes nearly numb at your every touch, not when he turns cherry red at your laughter and not when the world seems to collapse in on itself when you smile at another man.
you’re simply catastrophic. but you’re not simple at all, and all your complexities are driving him insane.
tobio’s not stalking you. he knows everyone would say that if they saw tobio right now. but the fact that he happened to be at the same park as you and your date seems to be, rather, a test of god. volleyball was never this complicated. that’s right, maybe he should replace your face with a volleyball every time he imagines you.
“ugh. that’s even worse,” he mutters to himself. he regrets the horrible image he conjured.
tobio slumps back into the wooden bench. it’s strange. he wonders when he started caring so much about you. maybe it’s because you always make sure to join him for lunch, or help him with his nails after practice, or agree that strawberry milk is better than chocolate milk. whatever it is, tobio’s fallen headfirst into feelings that the team calls ‘puppy love’. but he’s not a puppy. and isn’t love supposed to be something easier?
the sound of your laughter makes him turn to the bench a few meters away. you’re laughing at this man’s jokes and somehow, it makes him frustrated. just when you tilt your head, he turns his face away with his heart leaping to his throat.
he was hoping his disguise (sunglasses and a baseball cap) were enough to obscure him from you. if you were to see him, you’d wave to him and question him without doubt. and then he’d have to blush and stutter his way through an explanation. he does not want that.
suddenly, his phone buzzes with a cheery ‘meow’ tone, giving him nothing short of a heart attack. it sounds ridiculous. did hinata change it?
[16:04] tobio-kun, sorry about changing your notification tone. i thought it was really cute (●'◡'●)
tobio feels a warm blush creep up his cheeks. you’re too cute. he presses the back of his hand to his cheek. it’s not fair.
[16:04] oh and if you want to join me and my cousin, you can.
[16:05] honestly, he’s kind of boring me right now but you can save me, right? q(≧▽≦q) i’m counting on you!
cousin? tobio would rather climb into a hole and die right now. the unease in the pit of his stomach has left him though and he wonders why. is it because you’re not on a date after all? what’s more worrying is how you saw through his disguise.
[16:06] you can see me?
[16:06] how do you know it’s me
[16:06] it’s not me
tobio can hear the sound of your laughter from his place. he sinks further into the bench.
[16:07] i can always tell it’s you, tobio-kun. so can everyone.
[16:07] anyway hurry up before he goes off about his college baseball team. i’m sure volleyball’s more fun, right? (○` 3′○)
the smile on tobio’s face is small but it comes naturally. he finally gets up, wondering if he should ‘play it cool’ when he walks up to you or ‘act natural’, knowing very well that both advices fail when it comes to him.
but you’re there. that’s all he needs to go.
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— rose-tinted
[ note: timeskip! ]
you only call him tooru in private.
beyond that, it’s a bit of “oikawa-kun”, or just “oikawa”, or “tooru-kun” if you’re daring. sometimes it’s “oikawa-san” if you’re in the mood to be sardonic or are downright pissed at him.
it’s not that this thing you two have is a secret. it's far from that. your lips just seal shut the moment you’re asked about him. there’s too much to say and too little time.
he’s different, of course. the moment an interviewer pops the question, there’s a bright, almost bragging tone declaring “of course, the love of my life is with me today!” and a smile that shines through his eyes. even the media can notice then, the contrast between his public smiles. he talks like a child that purchased candy all by himself for the first time. it’s difficult to hide your own smile when he looks at you like that.
your friends tell you that you’re lucky. it’s not like you don’t know that and you’re sure they don’t mean to sound condescending. it just sounds odd when they say it. after all, he tells you every night how lucky he is.
right now, you’re sitting patiently and waiting for him to return from his post-game interview. your friends are chatting around you, commenting on the muscle and brawn of the team and how cool they look. you agree, but your eyes are only on tooru. at the end of the day, your glasses are tinted the hue of oikawa tooru and your feelings that you choose to keep to yourself are obvious anyway.
“(name)-chan!”
you smile at the approaching figure. there’s a few bated breaths and quiet squeals around you. it makes you uncomfortable to be the center of attention but it’s expected of tooru. he makes quite some noise wherever he goes.
he is, after all, the same boy who carefully carried a dozen gifts with him through your school hallways, the same boy who flirted openly with everyone, and the same boy with a rhythm so loud when it comes to everything he loves. of course he's bound to make some noise.
“tooru,” you say, before gasping. you’ve never let it slip before.
he grins, and you want to smack it off his face but in this unfortunate circumstance, there are cameras on you.
you only call him tooru in private; when he's kissing you against the soft mattress, or when he's playing with your hair while you focus on your work, or when he has you engulfed in a hug in the middle of the night, so tight you can't wiggle out of it. you only call him tooru when he's yours and no one else's, when he's not team argetina's brilliant setter and world famous athlete but just your stupid boyfriend trying his best to take care of you.
you think you can call it love. the sky blue of his shirt or the rose hue of his blush on a daring night. you call him tooru in private, not in secrecy. if you could, you'd declare it to the whole world too. but for now, you'll settle with "tooru" or "honey" or "my dear" first.
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「 honeypie 」
[note: timeskip! ; tw: suggestive content, language]
ATSUMU isn't the type of guy to back down from a fight.
scratch that. he isn't the type of boyfriend to back down from a fight. especially the ones you pick.
he knows that right now, you poking his neck while he tries to focus on the black jackals’ game recap on his screen means it's working. he thinks it's unfair that he's always the one craving your attention while you seem oh so composed. so if this is what it'll take to break your demeanor, he can tolerate a bit of keeping his hands to himself. being petty is better than grumbling all by himself.
"'tsumu," you mumble, inching closer till your sides are pressed together. "are we playing that game right now? really?"
"you started it," he accuses, not lifting his eyes to meet yours. it seems to have irked you just enough. you take your hands back and cross your arms.
"are you doing this because i didn't kiss you in the morning?"
"you have so many questions," he hums, eyes glued to the screen. he wants to see the expression on your face so bad but a little patience won't do him any harm. besides, this whole thing is to prove that point.
"oh, you're asking for it, you know?"
"asking for what?"
"let's see how long you can keep your hands to yourself."
instead of sulking like he thought you would (let's be real, he's the only one who sulks from lack of attention in this relationship), you do something unexpected. carefully, you sneak under his arm, legs now on either side of him and look down at him with a winning smile. you're usually in this position when you're making out and that alone makes him stiffen. your touch is so warm, he almost lets himself enerapture you in a long overdue kiss. but no. no, he's not going to give in so easy.
"i know you hate being ignored," you say, "so let's give you some special treatment."
"is this your attempt at seducing me?" atsumu scoffs. "it's not wor—"
an unseemly sound leaves his throat just when you place your lips to his neck, his body flaring up at the contact. a sort of chant repeats in his head to not give in, not give in to you.
"not working?" you whisper, trailing slow kisses to his jawline.
you've only been dating for three months and atsumu has never been this whipped for anyone before. of course it's working. you and your honey touch, both so damn hard to resist. he can't lose like this, however. he's got to score at least one point against you.
setting his laptop on the table, not missing the way your eyes light up, he places his hands on your waist. it’s not his fault that it's reverence he looks at you with.
right when you're about to declare your triumph, he flips you onto the sofa so that he hovers over you with his own devilish smirk. the little squeak from you is going to be a topic of teasing forever. (though that's not the only adorable sound you've given him.)
"ya know it always works," he states, a hint of complaint in it. "stop being so fuckin’ gorgeous."
he presses his lips to your jaw, as slowly as you did and feels you squirm.
"see how that feels?"
"fine." you huff. "but you're all red, you know?"
he doesn't deny the crimson on his face. instead, he leans down to kiss you - finally. it's hard to go without your fond kisses and gentle touches for a whole day, especially with how busy the two of you can get. he sighs into the kiss when you run your fingers through his hair. god, you’re perfect. it’s not every day he’s head over heels for someone like this.
"i'm not gonna stop right now," he says pulling back, breathing heavy.
"i didn't ask you to." you give him a cheeky smile, so cute he almost kisses you again. "some fights we both win."
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「 好きかもね 」
TOORU has been looking at you mournfully for the past half an hour now. if it weren’t for the soft autumn sunlight and crowds of people surrounding him, he thinks he’d have walked over to you by now.
this ‘break’ thing you suggested has been doing awful things to him. for example, he’s been seeing you everywhere he goes and he keeps expecting a soft ‘tooru’, or even an angry, annoyed call of his name. as pathetic as it sounds, volleyball was supposed to be his only love. he didn’t expect to have to choose.
iwaizumi frowns beside him, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by tooru, but he’s really not in the right mind to explain his love life (or now, lack thereof) to his best friend. iwa-chan always nails the reality behind his moods anyway. this isn’t like his (failed) high school romance. you’re not his ex. he wouldn’t be losing sleep over her, or wishing to see her face in the morning, or dying at the lack of touch between him and her. no, it’s all you.
“oi, shittykawa, you sure you’re sleeping? you look like hell.”
“eh? i’m still the best looking guy around here so it’s fine.”
that earns a hard smack to the back of his head.
“ow, giving a concussion is not something you should be doing to your handsome best friend.”
“you wanna get hit again?”
“haha... iwa-chan, i’m going to start walking faster. for no reason in particular.”
as you walk home, tooru’s ten steps behind you and your friends and with iwa-chan looking at him the way tooru would look at slugs, or something equally disgusting. he wants to put his face in his hands and groan. he knows he looks miserable. that would be him walking you home right now. what was it that he did that was so bad?
tooru knows the answer. it was cruel of him to stand you up with a last minute text. he’d actually forgotten about the practice match his coach had set up with another university’s team — and it’s the first time that’s happened. he made his decision in a split second, reflexively almost, and discovered that not all learned reflexes are for the better. in his right mind, he’d choose you.
it was only a stupid practice match, he curses to himself. tooru wonders if high school him would look at him with malice or disdain or both. he’s learned to distinguish what he loves from what he doesn’t but in the end — you can’t love something you don’t hate at the same time. currently in his life, that’s two things.
“look, dude,” iwaizumi sighs. “i didn’t come all the way to your university to watch you mope around like a lovestruck idiot. and i know it was your fault.”
“you’re so mean,” he mutters. “i... i don’t know how to fix it.”
tooru yelps when he receives a strong blow to his back, turning to a glaring iwaizumi.
“i thought you’d learned better after graduating but turns out you’re still the same shitty person.”
“you really are so mean—”
“go. i know you want to.”
he’s right. all tooru wants right now is to walk over to you and kiss you stupid. with a nod, iwaizumi pushes him further (more like, flings him) and he finds himself taking longer strides towards you.
you jump at the sudden contact to your shoulder. tooru retracts his hand and looks at you like a guilty puppy, unable to find the right words. beside you, your friends look at each other before slinking away with quick goodbyes.
“i thought we were — ”
“i know,” tooru says quickly. “i know it’s supposed to be a break but listen to me. i know i made the wrong choice.”
“tooru,” you say, sighing. “tooru, i never asked you to choose. if it’s a game, you know i’ll be there cheering you on.”
that’s true. you’re always there in his jersey number, looking so cute that you have his heart beating more than the game does.
“i just wanted you to be a bit more responsible. no more sudden disappearances or tossing your fan’s gifts to me or cancelled dates. just let me know.”
tooru blinks. “i’m sorry. i just want to be with you.”
he can see you give in, a sigh of relief forming on his lips. he slips his hand into yours, this too reflexively, and smiles at you. you ease into his touch but raise an eyebrow at his incessant staring.
“can you stop publicly ogling me?” you tease, finally smiling. “it’s embarrassing.”
“can i kiss you right now?”
“in the middle of the road?! just wait till we get home- mmpf!”
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「 ilikeyou 」
KUROO is the last person you want to be stuck cleaning the classroom with.
you know if you said that out loud, the asshole would just say “but i’m still on the list, right?”
at summer’s start, the room is sunlit and vivid, but way hotter than what’s comfortable. you huff, annoyed that you’re clearly the only one putting effort into cleaning. in contrast, the fiend in question sits near the window, relaxed with his elbow resting against the desk. you certainly remember both of you volunteering to clean the classroom. so why is he lounging about while you do the hard work?
“kuroo, i know you’re a piece of shit, but can you be somewhat decent towards your responsibilities?” you shoot a glare.
“there’s only one mop,” he reasons. “and i don’t see why two people have to mop the same floor. also, did you just swear at me?”
any moment now, steam is going to erupt from your ears. “the other classroom borrowed ours, go get it from them.”
he leans his head to the side, cheek resting against his palm. he’s not quite smiling but there’s amusement in his eyes. “but it’s so far away.”
you try your best to not yell at him. it’s not always that you’re easily ticked off by kuroo. what started from fighting over a book at the library to arguing over who kenma likes better to one-upping each other at school speeches — all of this turned into a strange, polite form of rivalry. at least you keep it that way in front of everyone. the words currently forming in your mouth are not polite at all.
you extend the handle of your mop to him. “you do this then. i’ll take care of the dusters.”
“now you’re just taking the easy way out.”
god, you wish you could just knock the smirk off his face. but before you can say anything, he actually complies, rising to his full height and taking the mop from you. a part of you is disappointed you couldn’t get to yell profanity at him. a part of you is bothered with the way he looks so damn attractive. he’s doing the bare minimum, for the love of god.
with sleeves rolled up, and a bold certainty to his movement, kuroo is stupidly attractive. not to mention the way he looks at you. you like it when his eyes glance over you in class or from across the cafeteria or when you’re seated by the nekoma cheer team. it brings you back to that flimsy little rivalry.
you hate him more because you can’t hate him.
lost in thought, you clap the dusters against each other outside the window in a mechanical motion. kuroo isn’t the worst. even if you tell yourself that. the way he looks when he’s into something is surprisingly touching. the smile he shows you from time to time still haunts you (especially since it’s your stupid jokes he laughs at). sometimes your fingers brush when he passes papers to you, sometimes your shoulders are touching on the train home. it’s all horrible.
you want to groan, your mood souring little by little with the dilemma at hand. what the hell is kuroo to you anyway? you shouldn’t waste so much time thinking about an academic rival at best.
“hey.”
you whip around to find kuroo a bit too close for your liking. for your comfort, he takes a step back.
“i... what am i to you?” he asks, gaze unwavering. “i just can’t figure it out.”
“eh?” you hold your breath, unable to meet his eye. “we’re not- i don’t know. somethi- nothing. we’re nothing.”
“you’re messing with me, aren’t you?” he straightens, eyebrows furrowed. there’s a familiar spark of amusement in his eyes. “and i like it.”
“huh?” you blink. “did you hit yourself with the mop?”
he shakes his head, an amused smirk making its way onto his face.
“i like getting texts from you. i like hearing what you have to say. even if it’s dumb as hell.”
“hey now—”
“i like you. i can’t help it. god, i didn’t want to be this direct.” he scratches the back of his head awkwardly, finally looking away.
your jaw drops. you take a step back in surprise, your back hitting the windowpane. he reaches out his hands to steady you, the contact flustering you even more.
“i... i still hate you,” you lie, choking out the words.
“even if i ask you to go to the summer festival with me?”
there’s a pause, your heart drumming in your chest to fill the silence.
“i... i wouldn’t mind.” you gulp. “you’re not so bad actually now that i see you clearly.”
the smile he gives you, this one you know will haunt you longest — and in the best of ways.
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「 好きとか嫌いとか 」
TSUKKI’s going to end up with a killer neck ache at this rate.
if you hadn’t fallen asleep on his shoulder on the train ride, he wouldn’t be searching up ‘remedies for shoulder pain’ or ‘what to do when someone falls asleep on your shoulder’ right now. if only he had just refused your offer to take the long route home, he wouldn’t be as stiff as a literal beanpole and praying this doesn’t do permanent damage.
you, however, have already inflicted permanent damage to his brain. there’s no way he would’ve said yes to anyone else. the soft rumbling of the train usually puts him at ease. not when you’re around. the earbud is still stuck to your ear although he stopped the music a while ago.
carefully, he reaches for it, the wire sandwiched between your cheek and his shoulder. it’s not an easy task to wake you up, he knows this from experience, but all at once, he doesn’t want you to break this peaceful sleep of yours. at least it’s quiet.
you stir the moment his finger touches your cheek, getting up with hair messed up on one side. tsukishima holds back a snide comment.
“are we there?” you mumble groggily, rubbing your eyes.
“no.”
“then why’d you wake me up?” you complain.
“because you’re disgusting,” he states. “don’t drool on my shoulder.”
“ah. sorry, tsukki,” you say, straightening and scratching the back of your head.
somehow, he misses the warmth of your breath tickling his neck.
“you sound like yamaguchi,” he mutters.
“eh? do you want me to bicker with you instead?”
“it’s not bickering if you’re the only one getting shot down.”
“hey! when did i get shot down?”
tsukishima hums. “you’re going to get shot down now.”
it’s a bold move for him. but he knows that when he leans in like this, you’re going to start sputtering nonsense. there’s barely any distance between the two of you anyway, since you always have to disregard his personal space and sit so close to him. and for some shitty reason, he lets you.
“it- i- what? what do you even mean by that? don- don’t be stupid. i’m not an idiot, you know?”
bingo. he wonders if he can get you to practically blow steam out of your ears like back in middle school. it was fun to see how easily provoked you were.
he hears you breathe in.
“whatever. by the way, tsukki, did you switch out your headphones for regular earphones so we could listen to the same song?” you ask, regaining your composure.
tsukki can feel a protest bubble in his throat. that was not the reason. he only brought these because his brother took his headphones without permission. how would he know he’d be taking the long way home this evening?
then again, he should know the way his walls crumble around you. you make him want to say yes.
like, dislike, it’s all the same when it comes to you.
“by the way, aren’t you failing math?” tsukishima teases. “do you need more tuitions? i charge by the hour.”
“no, i’m not! and why would you charge me? you’re- you’re just changing the topic.”
he suppresses his sly smile, covering his mouth and looking away at the blinking light on the wall opposite. three more stations to go.
“ah, i dislike you so much. how come you’re still this annoying after years?” you complain, arms crossed indignantly.
“it’s not like you’ve changed much. you’re still as loud as a jukebox.”
“but then again...”
tsukishima looks up as your voice softens.
“if i had to say whether i liked you or hated you, i’d probably say i like you,” you mumble, a pleasant smile on your face.
tsukki feels a small smile on his face. it’s always that brazen mouth of yours. he’s not going to reciprocate it aloud though. that’s too lame.
“whatever. choose the next song,” he mumbles, handing over the earbud to an all too bright-faced you.
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「 cats, camera, action. 」
KENMA isn’t even aware of the phone in your hand. he didn’t notice you had returned in the first place.
he continues to meow at the kitten in his lap, scratching its chin with a blissful smile and unaware of your action. you try to hold back your giggling as you record him, hiding behind the wall as best as you can.
“mew. mew mew. what are mew looking at?”
you can’t stop yourself anymore, shaking with laughter as you drop to the ground. you don’t know what’s worse — his dorky choice of words or the fact that he said all of it with a straight face.
of course, your snorts alert kenma, who now looks like he’s ready to forfeit the rest of his life to go crawl into a hole. the red tinge on his face paired with wide, frozen eyes somehow makes him even cuter than he is.
“did you- are you recording?”
“who knows?” you say, skipping over to him. “it’s not like i’ll show it to anyone.”
kenma bites down his lip in frustration. “i can’t believe i’m letting you keep it.”
“of course you are. this is the best time i’ve had skipping class. all thanks to cleocatra.”
kenma shakes his head, focusing on scratching the stray kitten’s chin. “we should find her a home.”
“so soon? i’ve barely played with her,” you complain, scratching the top of her head while she closes her eyes in bliss.
“you skip class every day to play with her...”
you pout, looking away. you suddenly remember why you’d taken out your phone in the first place, opening it again to the webpage.
“kenma, kenma! look at this cat scratch post i found.” you show him your phone, eyes bright and excited.
“we can’t buy that.”
you frown. “why not?”
“that’s beyond our budget.”
“get a loan! a mortgage!”
“we’re still in high school and the cat doesn’t have stable employment.”
you huff. for whatever reason, a small smile forms on kenma’s lips. his eyes are still on cleocatra, but unfocused and faraway, a liquid gold color.
“kenma.”
“hm?”
“we’re taking care of cleocatra, right?”
“for now, i guess.”
“hey, so, that makes us, like, cat parents, right?”
“hm? ah. i guess.”
“then we’re practically married!”
kenma doesn’t say anything, his skin turning from red to redder as he freezes on the spot.
“we should take a family picture,” you declare excitedly, reaching out your arm to take a selfie of you, your beet-red play-husband and your unbothered play-daughter. his eyes glance at the camera warily while cleocatra snuggles close to his chest, the two of you lacking distance in shoulders touching.
“are you going to keep that?” he asks, peering down at the screen.
“of course!” you furrow your eyebrows, offended at the ridiculous question.
“could you send that to me?” he asks, so quiet you almost don’t hear him.
blinking in surprise, you can’t help the warmth on your face as you smile brightly, making sure to send the picture to him right away. in his arms, cleocatra yawns before pawing for attention from the two of you, confused as to why either of you look so happy.
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「 猫になりたい 」
KUROO doesn’t really know how he ended up at the pet shop.
it’s not like he wants to adopt a cat. kenma and the rest of his team are handful enough already. hell, he doesn’t even have a damn cat and he’s reading the ingredients of a can of cat food like his life depends on it.
all of this to make it easier to talk to you. only because his team needs a manager. of course. there’s no other reason why he’d want to hire the student from class 2-1 who he keeps staring at in the hallways not-creepily. you were kenma’s recommendation anyway. he’s going to be a strong, responsible captain and recruit you. easy as pie.
except it’s not.
the moment he entered, he saw you dip behind the counter in a frantic attempt to hide. the first thing he did was smell himself — and no, he took a shower after practice, plus he’s the free-of-cost ambassador of axe body spray at this point. he checked his hair on a car mirror before taking the turn to this street so no way he was the one at fault.
or maybe he underestimated himself and you’ve fallen for him. either way, it’s difficult to approach someone trying their best to hide from him.
so now, kuroo tetsurou, revered captain of nekoma volleyball club, is staring at cat food for his imaginary cats. he could play with the kittens mewling in their enclosures but he has enough self-restraint to resist their explosive cuteness. besides, this is the best spot to monitor the counter from. he lets out a sigh when he realizes he’s the only one left. he doesn’t want to come on too strong. are you perhaps afraid of him?
making up his mind, he finally lets go of the canned cat food and strides all the way over to the counter. bending over the counter, he finds you tapping away at your phone with eyebrows furrowed and lips quirked into a frown.
“oi.”
a scream erupts from your lips and you fumble erratically with your phone, saving it just in time from the cold marble tiles beneath.
“oh- oh uh- hello- hi! kuroo-san. didn’t see you there.”
kuroo raises an eyebrow, both amused and slightly bothered.
“i’m 6′2 and i have the coolest hairstyle in tokyo. i can’t be that difficult to notice, eh?”
kuroo hides his frustration behind a reflexive smirk, leaning in to face you better.
you visibly stiffen, looking down at your feet. “you knew? why- why did you browse for so long then?”
kuroo’s eyes shift around nervously. “no- no particular reason.”
“are you getting a cat? i could help-”
“not that it’s my business but you’re hiding something. aren’t you?”
you fluster further, refusing to look him in the eye and that confirms his suspicions.
“kenma-kun made me promise not to tell you though.”
kuroo furrows his brows, lowering his voice for a more stern pretense. “go on. you’ve spilled enough.”
“kenma-kun and i found a stray cat and we can’t get her registered with the pet shop so we’re keeping her in the gym’s maintenance closet. please don’t tell coach nekomata!”
your rapid fire response almost flies over his head. you have your palms pressed together in a plea, eyes shut tight as though he’s going to chew you out for such a trifling issue.
“also, kenma-kun sent you here so he can feed meowrilyn and i was meant to distract you but i’m not very good at distracting. please tell kenma-kun i’m sorry!”
kuroo can’t help it. he breaks into loud guffaws, clutching his stomach. the amount of fussing over this cat is receiving makes him wish he were the cat. “you named her meowrilyn? meowrilyn monroe?”
you nod, looking up at him with abashed eyes. “yeah.. she’s very pretty. i thought it was a nice name.”
you mutter the last part. kuroo laughs some more, puzzling you further. “so the two of you were trying to out-scheme me?”
“well... yes.”
“i haven’t laughed this hard since last year’s training camp.”
“that’s kind of sad.”
“oh, by the way, you’re plenty good at distracting.”
the lazy smile he gives you makes you look away, your mannerisms getting more and more adorable by the minute.
“so... you won’t tell coach, right?”
kuroo leans against the counter, enjoying the way you fluster at the proximity and hums in thought.
“this calls for a bargain. the two of you can keep it there but —”
you look at him nervously, shifting from foot to foot. kuroo thinks you’re too cute to resist. he should’ve spoken to you sooner.
“become our manager. i promised, after all.”
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「 slowpoke 」
[note: timeskip!]
SHIRABU turns the page without really paying attention to the content. this has been going on for the past hour.
the only reason he came over to your place was to study. that’s the only reason. his roommates were being too loud and he needs to get his studying done at least three weeks before finals — being an overachiever happens to be part of his personality. you live nearby and your roommates are out partying, something med students like him don’t get to do much. it’s not like he’s interested anyway. his entire focus is fixed on working hard and getting his well-earned degree.
unfortunately, that focus of his is a bit all over the place now.
there’s a few reasons for that. one, you smile at him every time he looks up. two, you have the prettiest smile ever. three, you look really cute when you’re focused on your laptop screen. and lastly, it’s only the two of you in here and tendou’s “eh? so it’s like a study date?” did not bode well with his mental status.
after all, shirabu has had a crush on you since high school that simply won’t go away. it’s just his luck his med school happens to be near your university.
fidgeting with the drawstrings of his hoodie, he tears his eyes from the pages to look up at you. he feels himself frowning at your stature. you look dead tired, head resting against your palm with your laptop screen reflected in your eyes. he wants to say something - anything that makes it better. instead, he reaches out and flicks your forehead like a raw impulse.
“ow! i’m studying, okay?”
“you’re not and i can literally see that. you have the wikipedia page for sea otters open.”
it’s years too late to say something now anyway.
“kenjirou,” you call, your cheek pressed against the table in an oddly adorable manner. “don’t you ever get bored of your textbooks? i feel like my lifespan decreases by five years every time i see them.”
“i like them,” he answers, lips almost forming a pout. “you say that every time you see my books. you should be dead by now accordingly.”
“don’t be a smartass.” you cross your arms.
there’s just so many things to like about you, even when you’re complaining. shirabu looks back to his page, yet unlearned, deliberately ignoring you when he hears you sigh.
“do you want something to eat? i’m starving.”
he wants to refuse at first. he hasn’t spent a single second being productive (unless he calls sneaking glances at you productive) and that should be enough motivation to continue. but he nods, the grin on your face making him smile in return. his blood pressure is always erratic around you, but his heart skips a beat altogether when you smile. the thing is, shirabu understands that hard work leads to results. when it comes to love, none of that makes sense anymore. what the hell is he supposed to do? confess? ask you out? he says he’s not afraid of rejection but he’d rather die than give up this little bubble of proximity the two of you share. he wants to yell out in frustration every time a thought of you crosses his mind.
“on second thought,” you say, turning around suddenly. “do you want to take a walk? a short break.”
“that’s a bit...”
“i know, i know, but consider it part of our study date!”
“date?!”
shirabu coughs, clearing his throat.
“this is a date?”
“if you want it to be.”
he blinks, feeling heat rise on his face. “it’s- yeah. yes. that would be nice.”
he blurts out the answer before he can think it through. this must be what it’s like to be an idiot.
you smile incredulously. “it took you seven years to admit you like me!”
“it... did not.”
“...why are you lying?”
there’s a pause.
“hey, will i get a boyfriend pass to medical checkups after you become a doctor?”
“no.”
“goddammit.”
thank you for requesting, sunflower!! 🌻💞
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