bokubaka
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Summary
Oikawa was bored, alright?
It was a hot summer’s day, Iwaizumi had been refusing to give him attention for five whole minutes, and Oikawa was getting bored of spending their one day off from practice watching him study when they could have been doing literally anything else. So when he saw the love languages quiz pop up in his feed, he clicked.
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Iwaizumi's attention was caught by a pile of fabric down by the end of his bed.
Of course, it was Oikawa’s – one of his sweatshirts this time, with ‘Area 53’ on the front in bold letters and a UFO in the background. For a moment, he considered running it across the road back to Oikawa, but something made him pause.
Without permission, his eyes glanced over at the hoodie from a few nights ago, still on the floor where he left it. Oikawa must not have noticed it, or he definitely would have taken it back with him, calling Iwaizumi a thief all the while. He glanced back at the sweatshirt in his hands, his mouth suddenly dry.
He could take them both back straight away. Forget any thoughts of what he could do otherwise.
Fuck it.
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Iwaizumi kicked his shoes off at the Oikawas’ front door, looked round the corner at his boyfriend, and sighed. “Oikawa,” he said, exasperated.
In the living room, Oikawa was sitting curled up in a ball on the sofa, transfixed by the television screen in front of him. If it weren’t for the way he opened up his blanket to let Iwaizumi in, Iwaizumi would have thought he hadn’t even noticed him coming inside.
Or: Oikawa's obsession with True Crime TV, and the implications of that obsession.
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“Yer hand,” Atsumu accuses. “Why are they cold?”
“How’s that any of your concern?” he glares, adjusting his mask.
“Omi-kun, please. Yer hand is cold, ya are always pale white, and ya never smile like ya have lived a long life and heard all the jokes there were to hear. I know what ya are,” Atsumu eyes glitter with determination as he raises his chin. Kiyoomi wonders how he could feel annoyed and feel the urge to bite that chin at the same time.
“Calm down, Atsumu Swan,” he rolls his eyes. “If this is you being insecure over me not laughing at your jokes then it’s only because they are not funny. Not because of whatever absurd speculation you have deemed fit to craft.”
“What about the way ya talk?” Atsumu narrows his eyes.
“What’s wrong with the way I speak?” Kiyoomi crosses his hands defensively.