Work Text:
Hajime knows, knows, knows, knows that this guy knows exactly what he’s doing.
See, he knows becomes he’s come to this library every day since the semester started, and he always sits in the same spot. Always. So, when Pretty Boy started showing up a few weeks ago, he would’ve had to have seen Hajime in his spot.
Oh, and Hajime knows Pretty Boy’s seen him.
He knows, because Pretty Boy stares a lot and he isn’t subtle and he blushes from his neck through his whole face and up until yesterday, Hajime was seriously considering just walking up to him and giving him his number. He’s cute, after all, and while he doesn’t look like Hajime’s type, Hajime would never pass up an opportunity to go on a date with someone who looks like beauty personified.
But now, he’s not so sure.
Hajime has a pattern. He likes knowing that they exist, because then everything goes to plan to at least a degree and it keeps him sane.
Pretty Boy is crossing a line, and by the smug look on his lips, Hajime knows he knows it.
He storms over.
“This is my spot.”
“Mm, don’t see your name on it.” Oh, great. On top of a beautiful face and athletic body, his voice is smooth and soft and Hajime could die listening to it. Amazing. Great. He hates him.
“You know I sit here every day.”
Pretty Boy looks at his nails. “Do I?”
Hajime narrows his eyes. “You sure make a point of staring at me every day, so I’d say, yeah. You do.”
“Do I?” he repeats, biting his lip and looking up cheekily.
“Tch. Whatever, I’ll sit somewhere else.”
“If I know you always sit here,” Pretty Boy muses as Hajime turns away, “don’t you think I probably have something to tell you?”
Hajime starts to turn back.
“No, no, wait, this view is nice too.”
“That’s it.” Hajime grabs his arm and hauls him up out of the chair. “If you’re just going to be creepy, forget about it.” He sits in the seat that’s rightfully his.
Pretty Boy just laughs; it’s a melodic laugh, really. “My name’s Oikawa Tooru.” He leans on the table. “I think you’re cute.”
“I’ve noticed,” Hajime says bluntly, because he’s not up for playing games. This guy seemed nicer when he was genuine and cute. Not trying to be all…whatever this is.
Pretty Boy – Oikawa – snorts and sits all the way on the table. “Fine, brute, don’t tell me your name. You know, it took a lot of nerve to finally talk to you!”
“Then, quit playing games and fuckin talk?” Hajime suggests, pulling out a textbook.
“I’m an astrophysics major,” Oikawa offers, the weird, forced smoothness of his voice gone. “And I’m used to people asking me out, so I didn’t really know what to do when I realized you were cute but not the type to notice me. So, yeah, I sat in your chair and waited for you to show up because I thought maybe you’d notice me if I was intentionally being cute and in your way.”
“At least you’re self-aware.” Hajime looks up at him. “I noticed you.”
“Did you?”
Hajime nods. “Yeah, since you first started ogling me like a fuckin creep.”
“Hey, it wasn’t–”
“I’m Iwaizumi Hajime. I was going to give you my number, before you annoyed me.”
“Oh.” Oikawa blinks, clearly confused. “You could’ve led with that, Iwa-chan.”
“Iwa-chan?” Hajime wrinkles his nose in distaste. “No.”
“Why not, it’s cute!”
“Because we’re in college, not little kids, and I just met you.”
Oikawa scoffs. “Fine. Iwaizumi-san. Look. Can I bring you a coffee from the library café? And then we can study together or whatever, and if you find me less annoying at the end of the evening, maybe you could still give me your number?”
Hajime pretends to mull it over (really, he’s made up his mind). “Alright, fine. But only because you’re cute.”
Oikawa grins, and it’s blinding. “Thank you for this opportunity, then, Iwa-chan! Please, take care of me!”
“What happened to Iwaizumi-san?”
“How does Iwa-chan take his coffee?”
“Oi!”