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Oikawa is six years old when the teacher asks the class what they want to be when they grow up and you immediately stand, proudly announcing you’re going to be an astronaut. Coincidentally, four other kids already answered the exact same thing, but something about the way you had said it made him believe you really would make it to space.
Years pass, and on your ninth birthday, your mom brings in space themed cupcakes for the class. There are green aliens, spaceships, moons, and constellations. When you wander over within range, he asks if you still want to be an astronaut and your eyes light up. Of course you do! What could possibly make you change your mind? He also stupidly asks if you believe in aliens and your response is mature beyond your years. If intelligent life does exist, they’re probably thousands of light years away. But we might have microscopic single celled organisms floating around somewhere close by. He gestures around the classroom with wide, somewhat scared eyes and you let out an ugly laugh. No, silly! I meant maybe somewhere just beyond our solar system!
The two of you are eleven and he becomes a full blown conspiracy theorist whenever you walk within five feet of him. Did you hear that a UFO flew over town last night? The Americans have Martians locked up in Area 51! I think the Wow! Signal was a coverup for something bigger. His shenanigans crack you up right until the end of the school year when you finally snap at him. His antics aren’t funny anymore. Elementary school is over and he needs to grow up.
You two don’t end up at the same middle school.
It’s not until his first day at Aoba Johsai that he sees you again. Unfortunately, you’re in a different class, but that isn’t going to stop him. What will though is your plethora of extracurriculars. Biology club and student council, among other favors you agreed to do around the school. When he finally manages to catch you in a free moment, you apologize for your harsh words three years prior and disappear hastily, throwing something over your shoulder about a pig to dissect.
He has better luck second year. You’re in the same class as him and he finally finds a rhythm with you again. It’s not as comfortable as before. Your responses to his conspiracies are just as clinical, but you don’t take as much joy in them. He resorts to polite conversation. How’d you do on the science test? The rain’s really coming down, huh. Would you mind if I borrowed your English notes? It’s near the end of the semester when he peaks at your career goals sheet and sees that you have only one job listed on the paper. Doctor. Is written in your perfect handwriting.
He forgets about it for the moment and asks you out a week later, to which you give a hasty reply of absolutely not. When he gets over the shock of rejection a couple days later, he needs to know why. You’re hesitant to tell him. Probably because your reason is a shack in a hurricane. Prone to getting destroyed. But you confess. Your father has banned you from dating because you’re far too busy to balance a relationship and your education and you agree with him. But he’s nothing if not persistent.
You try it. You get your first kiss. He discovers something he might like more than volleyball. Your father begrudgingly gets on board when he sees what an ‘upstanding young man’ Oikawa Tooru is. It ends a month later when he stands you up because he forgot he had a practice match that day. It starts again three days later when he makes it up to you tenfold. And ends once more when you tell him he’s needy and insecure. So the cycle goes until it feels like the two of you aren’t just on the wrong page, you’re reading completely different books.
Third year starts and you’re in separate classes again. Maybe divine intervention from school faculty? Either way, you two never talk anymore. Even your snapstreak is dead. This time it’s over. You’re too caught up in clubs and student council and preparing for university. His tunnel vision on volleyball is more focused than ever thanks to his ascension to captaincy. He’s not happy about it, but you’re right. The two of you cease efforts to maintain any sort of relationship. You graduate as valedictorian and he watches as your family quickly congratulates you and then moves into what seems like a lecture about how you can’t slack off now. It’s times like these that he wishes he could walk right up to your father and tell him that his daughter didn’t know how to slack off. She worked herself to the bone. But there was only so much she could do when she struggled to possess an interest. Her father had forced her to plant a garden. She had the seeds, water, sunlight, soil, and the dedication, but could the tree bear truly delicious fruit without love? He gazes down at his diploma. School had failed to teach him the answer to that question.
By some stroke of… something (could he count it as luck? He desperately wants to) you end up at the same university and the only reason he knows is because you’re both standing at the table for the stargazing club in the middle of the student involvement fair and he doesn’t know what to say. So, aliens? Is what he comes up with and luckily (it was definitely luck) your face contorted into the familiar one sided smile of trying not to laugh hysterically.
You see each other much less often now, but run into each other at the weirdest of times (sans stargazing club where he sees you every other Thursday night at 11pm). You’re his phlebotomist when he goes to the blood drive on campus. You’re a research assistant in the medical study he’s a subject in. You’re even one of the EMT’s who responds to his 119 call after his knee gives out when he’s alone in the gym after hours.
Things change for the better when the last year of undergrad rolls around. You two are the only ones left in the stargazing club and suddenly he has a standing date with you every other Thursday night at 11pm that’s paid for with club funds from the university. Not that he would ever call it that to your face. You’ve made it very clear that you were completely focused on your career. He’s not going to ruin the quality time of sitting in pitch black darkness and getting to talk to you. Not to mention that, no matter how much he misses you, he needs to focus on his career too. His body wouldn’t hold up forever. He wondered if yours was still ticklish right under—
So you’re going to Argentina? That’s right. He is. He didn’t expect you to bring it up. No telling how you found out. Nevermind that, he spins the questions about future plans back to you. Well, I got accepted to med school in America. My dad really wants me to go. He wants to tell you that your dad is an idiotic control freak who can’t tell that his daughter is going to be successful no matter what profession she chooses, but who is he to say something as drastic as that? He’s just some guy you’ve gone to school with for a while. Who you used to date. Who you point out constellations and passing planets to. He’s the person who you relive your past with and he doesn’t know if that gives him a voice about your future.
The both of you pack up your entire lives. Crossing an entire ocean for something you don’t really believe in and the one thing he has been able to devote his life to. Surprising to him, you stay in touch. You say it’s because he’s the only person with whom you don’t have to deal with a crazy time difference. The two of you talk over the phone almost every day and have countless other little texts and snaps about daily happenings. For the first time in his life, he’s content to call you his friend and nothing more. Maybe it’s the lack of physical proximity, but it’s enough for him to just hear your voice on the other end of the line.
He sees you in person for the first time in three years when you both travel home in late December. He’s finished with regaling you on how amazing it is playing on the National team and asks about what residencies you want to apply to. You’re biting your lip, struggling to stifle a grin, and looking anywhere but him when you answer: Aerospace Medicine. His jaw drops. He blinks twice. It’s not like I’d actually be going to space! You halt his train of thought. Only the best of the best get to do that. He doesn’t know how you could fail to count yourself as such. He kisses you and blames it on the fact that you’re now less than a foot away rather than over ten thousand kilometers.
You return home to Japan permanently after what seems like forever. While you and Oikawa were well adjusted to a long distance relationship, dealing with a long distance relationship was still a trial. When you arrive in Tokyo, he’s already decorated half the apartment, cooked dinner, and bribed the landlord for keys to the roof. Of course, stargazing in a city as large as Tokyo is impossible, but the view from the roof is still spectacular.
In the span of another five years, he dominates his way through the World League, the Grand Champions, and the Olympics, winning gold for Japan. You make strides in your career as well, playing key roles in multiple research studies, saving countless lives, and being handpicked to join the International Space Station Program. Both of you became Instagram and Twitter famous too. You weren’t surprised your boyfriend's pretty face won him a whole new level of fans after becoming Japan’s sweetheart in the Olympics, but your Twitter fame was a surprise. Who knew your weird amalgamation of science threads, medical advice, and quips about the love of your life would net you two million followers?
The ISS program was your dream come true, but the only drawback was getting in tip top shape. You wanted to be on the Soyuz shooting into the sky in a year, not relegated to ground support for some other doctor. Coincidentally, his dream was also now a reality. At last you became the gym couple he had always dreamed about. It was the best Insta-fodder he’d had in years. You couldn’t lie either, it was nice to scroll through the pictures and see the muscles on your body growing more toned every week. And seeing your boyfriend as a sweaty mess every day was hard to stay away from. More than once, you two had found an empty broom closest and switched to a different kind of workout.
The week of was finally upon them. It was hectic. Not only were you preparing for a six month stay in space, he was swamped with various press releases and fundraising events as the pro volleyball season was about to start. While you couldn’t join him in the daytime, the second you left the JAXA grounds, you were changing into an evening gown and fixing your makeup for a fancy dinner or silent auction. Tonight was a standard meet and greet. Eat fancy hors d’oeuvres, mingle with the rich people donating their money, and try not to step on anyone’s feet. You’ve split up with your other half for the time being. He’s having a word with a teammate and grabbing much needed drinks, while a fellow scholar has decided to desperately cling to the only other brain cell in the room. You make the mistake of telling him you’re an aerospace physician and he starts telling you about an article he read in some journal. That you had written. Your zoning out leads to eavesdropping overhearing another conversation. I heard she’s not coming to the charity ball next month. The audacity! What’s she doing with her time that’s so much better? A glimpse of a few pointed glares lets you know that the —they looked like models— were talking about you. But like a guardian angel, Tooru cuts in from out of nowhere. She’s going to space, actually. I’m sure she’d be gracious enough to tell you all about it. He beckons you over, simultaneously rescuing you from Dr. Mansplain and giving you the opportunity to tear some people off their high horses.
When the day finally comes, you kiss the love of your life goodbye and hope he won’t get too lonely without you around. The shuttle up to the ISS is in Kazakhstan, which means you’re flying. Tooru wanted to go with you but the thought of him returning to your apartment alone wasn’t appealing to you. Instead, you strap into the Soyuz and listen to mission control go through protocol, content to give him a call when you arrive at the space station.
Weightlessness is… familiar. You had experienced it before. It was a huge part of training. But it was unnerving how you never fell back to the ground. So have you unpacked all your things yet? Is the first thing he asks. Not what you were expecting. Sure, he was the more domestic one, but was the organization of your quarters really that important to him? It’s just that I had them send up a letter for you and I want you to read it. That was out of the ordinary. Not for Tooru. Handwritten romantic letters were totally his style. But JAXA sending a non-essential up? This letter must hold its weight in gold. He directs you to the box where the letter should be; packed up with your medical books and tucked inside the pages of Gray’s Anatomy. It tears open too easy and you fumble, the envelope, the letter, and a gold ring spinning off. You lunge for it, grabbing all three with honed reflexes. Will you marry me? Is scrawled on the letter. You turn around to look at Tooru’s face on the screen you left floating in the air. He thought NOW was a good time to propose? A crew member pokes his head in, alarmed at your yelling. Ты в порядке, подруга? It’s then that he notices the glint in your hands and puts two and two together, going off to inform the rest of the crew. You turn back to Tooru —Your love. Your rock. Your future husband— and accept. You gaze down at the simple gold ring and tell him you had expected some giant diamond. Although you had to give him credit. This was much more your style. Believe me, my first thought was to get you a ring so big, I’d be able to see it shining from space, but my second thought was to give you something a bit more meaningful. He says, holding up his gold medal. There’s a small chunk missing out of it.