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Oikawa’s pretty.
It’s not that he doesn’t have other qualities, he does (more bad than good but Iwaizumi digresses), it’s just that one of those qualities happens to be the fact that Oikawa Tooru is excessively pretty.
Iwaizumi doesn’t like it one bit.
1
The first time he notices, they’re both twelve.
“Iwa-chan,” sings Oikawa. “You’ve got to run faster or we’re never going to get anything done!”
“Maybe if you helped a bit instead of making me get the ball each time,” snaps Iwaizumi, throwing the beaten-up volleyball back at Oikawa. “And why do you always have to serve it into the park anyway?”
“But Iwa-chan! My serve is getting so strong and powerful!”
“Next time you can fetch your own serve, Idiotkawa.”
“So mean!”
Oikawa hums to himself as he mimes hitting the ball. “Hey, Iwa-chan, how d’you think I should hit it to get it into the sandbox in that corner?”
“I don’t know, ask coach.”
Oikawa pouts. “But Iwa-chan, I’ll have to wait till tomorrow and I wanna know now.” He stares at the volleyball and resumes pretending to hit it from a variety of angles. His brows are screwed up in concentration and the bright sunlight makes his hair gleam (probably reflecting off all that product he steals from his mother).
Pretty.
Iwaizumi frowns. Where did that come from? In all his years of knowing him, never has he even considered using that particular word to describe Oikawa Tooru. Heck, Oikawa’s actually pretty ugly, especially when he cries, god he’s ugly when he cries... where did “pretty” come from?
Iwaizumi is shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of a thud. The ball goes sailing over Iwaizumi’s head, over the sandbox, and into the park.
“Oops.”
“Go get it.”
“But Iwa-chan!”
“No.”
“Please please please please please please —“
“Alright, alright! Quit whining you brat!”
“Yay!”
“But this is the last time!”
And maybe it’s the fact that they’re twelve and Iwaizumi was a lot denser back then or maybe it’s the fact that they’re twelve and Oikawa was a bit less of a trash human being (emphasis on the ‘bit’) back then or maybe it’s just the fact that they’re twelve, but the incident slips out of Iwaizumi’s mind and he forgets all about his traitor-brain daring to call Oikawa pretty.
That is, until it does it again.
2
They’re fourteen and it’s Oikawa’s birthday. He, in true Oikawa fashion, is being an overdramatic shit about it, marching through the house waving streamers, insisting on having everything brought to him, and bugging Iwaizumi (who is beginning to fondly dream of throwing either himself or Oikawa off a cliff) about, well, just about anything that he can bug Iwaizumi about.
It’s eight in the night. Oikawa insists Iwaizumi stay over and the latter obliges.
It’s nine in the night now and they’re both sitting on the balcony. The sky is clear and the light from the stars, the moon, and the streetlight below is bright enough for them to see each other clearly.
“That’s Andromeda there, Iwa-chan. See?” Oikawa points to a bright dot which forms part of the handle of the Big Dipper. “It’s our nearest major galaxy.”
Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything but it’s fine because he knows Oikawa knows he’s listening.
“Hey Iwa-chan, if you see an alien, what’ll you do?”
“I’m sitting with one right now.”
“Iwa-chan! Rude! No, actually, I’d like to be an alien! Wouldn’t you like to be an alien, Iwa-chan? Imagine having a spaceship... we could go anywhere. Ooh, we could land on Ushiwaka’s house and crush him! I’ll even let you be co-pilot, Iwa-chan!”
Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. “You are a crappy guy.”
“Hey! I’d be doing the world a favour.” Oikawa pouts and he’s still got the icing from a birthday cupcake he ate five minutes ago smeared all over his face and his hair is messed up because of the wind and the sight of him is quite honestly the most adorable thing Iwaizumi’s seen all day.
Iwaizumi freezes. No, no, no, this is bad, this is very bad, he should not be thinking of his best friend as adorable or cute or pretty or any of these other words that are currently flashing through his mind at lightning speed despite his desperate efforts to stop them. He’s never had any idea why Oikawa’s liked by as many girls as he is and he still does not. Iwaizumi Hajime does not, repeat not, think Oikawa Tooru is anything even remotely resembling attractive —
“Hey, Iwa-chan! Are you listening to me?” A scowl graces Oikawa’s face. “What are you thinking about? Ooh, is it a girl?” The scowl falls off Oikawa’s face and is replaced by a smug look. “If it is, you can forget about it, Iwa-chan. No girl in her right mind would ever like you anyway.”
“Oi! Shut up, Trashykawa!” Iwaizumi hits him over the head. Oikawa just laughs and turns back to the sky.
Iwaizumi looks at him and waits for the momentary lunacy to fade.
It doesn’t.
Rather, it hits Iwaizumi like a ton of bricks that perhaps he’s always considered Oikawa just a little bit attractive. And now that he’s committed the grievous error of arriving at that realisation, it doesn’t vanish. It instead chooses to make itself at home in Iwaizumi’s head. It chooses to kick back, relax, and casually corrupt every memory Iwaizumi has of Oikawa — the time they went to the fair and Oikawa started crying on top of the giant wheel, the time they binge-watched alien movies and Oikawa clutched his sleeve throughout (albeit more out of excitement than fear), the time they just sat in Iwaizumi’s room doing absolutely nothing, the smallest but realest of smiles on Oikawa’s face... the memories flash by at lightning speed and a wave of fondness accompanies every single one of them.
He’s looking at his best friend just like he’s done countless times before but his best friend’s apparently attractive now and Iwaizumi is officially disgusted with himself.
3
They’ve just lost to Shiratorizawa at the Interhigh preliminaries and Iwaizumi’s worried. He’s upset and he’s worried — upset because of the whole losing thing and worried because Oikawa had offered some fake smiles and cheery motivation to the rest of the team before deciding to vanish off the face of the planet.
“Hi! You’ve reached Oikawa Tooru! Can’t talk now because I have a busy and exciting life but I’ll call back later!” Oikawa’s voice crackles over the phone speaker. Iwaizumi scowls at the voicemail and kicks a curb angrily. He’s not at his house, he’s not in the gym... it’s eight-thirty in the night, goddammit.
Iwaizumi frowns in the direction of the park. Someone’s sitting on a bench, someone who looks suspiciously like —
Yep, that’s Oikawa.
Iwaizumi approaches the bench. Oikawa’s still wearing the Aoba Johsai track pants although he’s changed his shirt (the one he’s currently wearing is a horrendous black thing with glow-in-the-dark aliens on it). He’s got on a dark blue unzipped hoodie that’s a little too big for him. He’s eating milk bread and staring at the grass. He looks so pathetic, it’s almost funny. Almost.
Iwaizumi sits next to him.
“Hey Iwa-chan.”
“Hey, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi leans in a bit closer to him.
“Don’t try and tell me it’s okay.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
They sit in silence. Oikawa finishes his mild bread and resumes staring at the grass. Minutes pass. The only thing Iwaizumi can hear is the buzzing of insects and faint noises from the nearby apartments.
And then he hears a sob. And another. And then another.
He puts his arm around Oikawa who immediately buries his face in Iwaizumi’s shoulder and continues crying. Iwaizumi turns and hugs him.
“I fucking hate — fuck Ushijima — fuck Shira — fuck them.” Oikawa’s voice is muffled and punctuated by sobs. “Should’ve... played... better...”
“Hey. No, not this again. You’re not the whole team, Tooru. It’s not all down on you. Okay? They were the better team this time, that’s it. This time. We still have the spring tournament, okay?”
Oikawa tries to say something but gives up on it halfway and just clings to Iwaizumi and continues crying.
(Iwaizumi’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s stroking Oikawa’s hair but he really can’t bring himself to care.)
They stay like that for god knows how long. Iwaizumi’s honestly fine with staying like that all night but Oikawa’s sobs subside after a point; he removes his head from Iwaizumi’s shoulder and rubs at his face. Iwaizumi awkwardly pulls back, which proves to be a bad idea because he now has no idea what to do with his hands. He ends up draping one over the bench’s arm and abandons the other one to its confusion.
“God, my face must be all puffy. Is my face puffy, Iwa-chan?”
“Er, well, yeah.”
“Oh dammit. Shit, I’m gonna look so ugly for the rest of the night.” Oikawa’s voice is slowly regaining its usual whiny characteristic.
No you won’t. You’ll look just as gorgeous as you do right now.
But Iwaizumi doesn’t say that. Obviously.
“Who’s going to see you at this hour anyway except your family, you self-obsessed idiot?”
“Ah but Iwa-chan, you’re seeing me. Now you’ll think I’m ugly.” Oikawa lets out a dramatic sigh.
Fat chance.
“I always thought you were ugly anyway.”
“Iwa-chan! So mean! And after you were so nice to me too!”
“Shut up, asshole. It’s getting late, let’s go.”
Oikawa flashes him a bright smile (a real one, the one that always makes Iwaizumi’s heart skip a beat) before he stands and stretches. “Let’s go then, Iwa-chan!” He sets off towards the road, humming to himself and Iwaizumi follows, trying not to think about how utterly fucked he is.
the first interval
“Iwaizumi-san, I’m approaching you on behalf of the team so please note, I’m merely a representative, a messenger if you will, and must not be judged or harmed.” Mattsukawa’s voice is steady although his eyes flicker around nervously.
“What?”
“Well, it’s just that the team says that you should, er, that you should probably ask out Oikawa-san at the nearest opportunity and save everybody some, er, pain and suffering.”
Iwaizumi’s eyebrows shoot up. “What?”
“Er, er, I’m really sorry Iwaizumi-san but it’s just that it’s very obvious that the both of you like each other. And, and, well, you act like such an old married couple and well, it’s really very painful for the rest of us to watch you two be oblivious and angsty every single day, you know?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Oh, stop acting like you have no idea, Iwaizumi-san.” Kunimi’s voice is bored. “The entire world knows that you want to do gross, romantic things with Oikawa-san. You don’t have to pretend.”
The rest of the team has flocked towards Iwaizumi at this point (minus Oikawa, mercifully; he’s home sick).
Iwaizumi opens his mouth to protest but he’s cut off by... well, by the entire team.
“Iwaizumi-san, there’s no point denying it. Your face is red.” That’s Hanamaki, the traitor. Actually, they’re all traitors.
“But it’s not as red as it is whenever Oikawa flirts with him.” That’s Matsukawa, emboldened by the presence of the team around him.
“Oh God, the flirting. So annoying.” That’s Yahaba. And judging by the noises of assent, everybody seems to agree with him.
“I mean! They act married! And it’d be fine if they were actually married! Or at least realised they want to be married, you know?” Hanamaki again.
“Dude, I know. And it’s pointless even trying to talk to Oikawa-san because everytime, it’s the same story — “ Matsukawa screws up his face and says, in a shockingly accurate impression of Oikawa: “But, Iwa-chan doesn’t like me like that Mattsun! My love is doomed to die with me... one-sided forever!”
At this point, they’ve apparently forgotten Iwaizumi exists and carry on complaining about him and Oikawa to one another. Iwaizumi wishes for nothing, and doubts he has ever wished for anything, as much as he currently wishes for the sweet release of death.
The grumbling shows no sign of stopping and Iwaizumi decides to try and sneak away when Yahaba seems to remember he’s there.
“Ah yes, sorry Iwaizumi-san, got a bit carried away. But I think the point we are all trying to make is that it would really boost team spirit and performance if you would man up a bit and just, you know, resolve all the unresolved tension.”
“Are you telling him to bang Oikawa?” Hisses Kyoutani.
Yahaba studiously ignores him and resumes talking. “Yes, so, do you understand us Iwaizumi-san?”
Iwaizumi slowly nods.
“Great! I’m so glad. Come on, team, back to practice.”
4
The thing is, it’s not just that he looks good. Well, he does, but it’s more than that. But it being more than that’s not much of a comfort because a) it’s a generally accepted fact that Oikawa has a shitty personality, meaning that Iwaizumi may at this point be a bit of a masochist, and b) it means that Iwaizumi has a proper full-blown crush on his best friend.
Iwaizumi’s known he likes Oikawa for a while now. Since they were fourteen and it hit him on the roof, actually. But he’s liked to avoid thinking about it in the hope that if he avoids it, it’ll go away. But he’s finding it hard to avoid it right now because he’s come to another monumental realisation: he doesn’t like Oikawa; he really likes him.
It’s not a great realisation because even though the rest of the volleyball team’s tried their best to convince him that Oikawa reciprocates these feelings, Iwaizumi still freezes up everytime he’s supposed to be telling Oikawa that he likes him and wants to kiss his stupid face. His mind won’t let go of the “but what if he doesn’t like you back?” and the “but what if everything gets awkward?”
The thing is... Oikawa’s Oikawa and despite desperately wanting to just tell him, Iwaizumi just can’t.
It’s not that he doesn’t try. He definitely does. Oikawa’s probably getting worried about him at this point due to his constant “hey, Oikawa, I gotta tell you something” which is almost inevitably followed by Iwaizumi developing a coughing fit and hastily muttering something about game strategy.
Case in point:
They’re in Oikawa’s yard. Oikawa’s hair is longer than it usually is because he missed going to the hairdresser’s. He’s wearing what has to be the world’s softest lavender t-shirt (lavender should be banned, Iwaizumi thinks idly) and too-short cotton pants that stretch over his legs and leave his ankles exposed as he lies back, legs propped up against the side of the house, bouncing a volleyball and rambling about everything ranging from the colleges he’d like to go to, the movie he saw last week, how annoying Kageyama and Hinata are, how he can’t decide whether he hates Karasuno or Shiratorizawa more, how no it’s definitely probably Shiratorizawa, how he sometimes lies awake wondering if beetles have feelings…
Iwaizumi thinks his head’s going to explode.
Because right now his brain is busy performing three functions: trying to convince him to ask Oikawa out, trying to convince him not to ask Oikawa out, and trying to keep up with whatever Oikawa’s saying. These three functions are all at odds with one another which is causing Iwaizumi’s brain to hurt. A lot.
“And then Tobio-chan bowed and then I got a picture taken but then my nephew thought I had a bad personality but I don’t have a bad personality, right Iwa-chan?”
“Your personality is undoubtedly the worst I have ever seen,” mutters Iwaizumi rubbing his head.
Ask him out.
Don’t you dare.
“Iwa-chan, you’re so mean to me. But you’ve hung out with me all these years so I know you like me. Anyway, so then I told Tobio-chan…”
Come on, Iwaizumi, you know you want to.
You absolutely don’t want to, think of the rejection.
Oh my God, are you seriously going to back out? Do you not see that t-shirt? You’re smitten, ask him out.
Exactly. See that t-shirt. He’s way too cute for you. Think of how awkward it’s going to get.
Please, for the love of all that’s good and holy, ask him out.
“H-hey, Oikawa.”
Oikawa stops talking about J-pop and looks at Iwaizumi expectantly.
“So, I was just wondering —“
“Boys!” Oikawa’s mother yells. Oikawa turns. Iwaizumi closes his eyes in frustration. “Boys! Lunch!”
“Coming!” Oikawa scrambles to his feet and runs inside. Iwaizumi follows, cursing his luck.
the second interval
“Iwaizumi-san.” Kunimi’s face is dark with repressed anger.
Iwaizumi sighs. “I tried Kunimi! I really did! But it’s hard. He’s been my best friend for so long and I- I just freeze.”
Judging by the look on his face, Kunimi is not impressed with this explanation.
“Iwaizumi-san! The spring tournament is in a week. Team morale is terrible. Why? Because captain morale and ace morale are terrible. Why? Because captain and ace insist on being absolute idiots about their feelings for one another!”
“Oh come on—“
“No Iwaizumi-san! Oikawa’s bugging Mattsun all day and night— seriously, the man never sleeps— about you not liking him back, you two never talking in college, his feelings dying with him—“
“Our colleges are literally half an hour apart and we live next to—“
“Uh uh uh! You think the captain cares about such logic? His brain only works rationally on court. Off court, he’s a fucking psycho. Anyway, the captain's been torturing Mattsun, Mattsun’s been torturing Makki, and Makki’s been torturing literally anybody he can get his hands on, including me. Team morale is at rock bottom right about now because Oikawa-san’s a maniac and you’re a coward!”
Kunimi pauses to take a breath. Iwaizumi stays silent because he’s a bit stunned. Nobody’s ever heard Kunimi say quite so many words in one go.
“I am sorry, Iwaizumi-san. I don’t like being angry, it’s a waste of energy. But you see, we are all at the end of our ropes. I beg you on behalf of Seijou: ask him out or we won’t get past our first match.”
5
They’re practising. Just the two of them, everybody else has left. Oikawa insisted on staying back and Iwaizumi insisted on staying with him to make sure he didn’t overwork and ruin his knee again.
(“Ah, Iwa-chan, so concerned about my well-being~”
“I don’t care about you, I care about the tournament.”
“Sure, Iwa-chan, whatever you say!”)
Kunimi had given him a meaningful glare before grabbing his bottle and walking out with the rest of the team. Iwaizumi had wisely chosen to ignore it.
A thwack echoes around the room as Oikawa serves. It isn’t as powerful as it usually is but still impressive. He’s panting, sweat running down his face. His posture isn’t the same. His shoulders are hunched and he seems unsteady on his feet.
“Hey Shittykawa, that’s enough. Let’s go.”
“One more.”
“No! We’re leaving.”
“One more,” insists Oikawa, fetching a ball. Before Iwaizumi can protest, he throws it in the air, runs towards it and jumps.
The ball flies across the room and Oikawa, instead of landing on his feet, collapses to the floor.
“Fuck.” Iwaizumi runs towards him. “Shit.”
“Don’t worry, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa winces as he sits up. “Nothing happened. Just— my legs were tired. Gave way. Knee’s okay.”
“Fucking hell, you idiot. I told you not to do one more. You sure it’s okay? Can you stand?”
Oikawa slowly gets to his feet. “Yeah, yeah. I can stand.”
“Good. Sit down again. We can leave in five minutes.”
Oikawa sits down. He stretches his legs and leans back on his arms. He looks at the ceiling. His mind is elsewhere, miles away, just like it usually is before a match or a tournament. Exhaustion is woven into every inch of his face. But his eyes, his eyes are shining.
Fucking gorgeous.
Iwaizumi nearly groans out loud. God, he just can’t do it. He can’t be next to Oikawa (or away from Oikawa or really just exist in general) without thinking of how good he looks, how adorable he is, how smart he is, or worst of all how much Iwaizumi wants to kiss him.
Oikawa stops looking at the ceiling and leans forward, resting his arms on his now half-folded legs. He’s looking straight ahead and his eyes are still shining. Iwaizumi can’t take it anymore. He leans towards him.
Oikawa’s eyes widen as Iwaizumi’s lips find his. For a dreadful, dreadful moment, he doesn’t move but then he kisses back and Iwaizumi closes his eyes and Oikawa smiles a bit against his lips and Iwaizumi cups his face and it’s absolutely fucking perfect.
+1
“Well, I’m glad you guys got your shit together.” Yahaba rolls his eyes as he pulls out his earphones from his bag. “Really, I thought Mattsun was going to go mad.”
Oikawa scowls. “Of course not! Mattsun is a great friend and is more than happy to help me with my problems, right Mattsun?”
Mattsun doesn’t respond. He’s too busy crying.
“I’m just so happy,” he sobs. “I was losing my mind! Makki, I was losing my mind!”
“I know Mattsun.” Hanamaki isn’t crying but his eyes glitter in a manner that suggests that he might start soon. “I know.”
Kunimi shakes his head. “Oikawa-san, you’re a monster.”
“I resent that! Anyway, Iwa-chan doesn’t think I’m a monster.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“Of course he doesn’t, otherwise why would he be dating me?”
“I don’t know, maybe he’s a masochist. By the way, where is he?”
“He was running late today. He’ll be here soon.”
“Oh look, here he comes now.”
Iwaizumi runs up to the bus, clutching a duffel bag. He’s wearing a blue hoodie over black tracks and his hair is slightly damp. “Sorry, sorry. Alarm didn’t go off. Hope I’m not too late.”
“No, that’s okay Iwaizumi-san. You’re right on time. Come on, everyone— um, Oikawa-san, are you alright?”
Oikawa’s frozen and staring at Iwaizumi, his eyes wide. Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow at him. “The hell’s the matter with you, Shittykawa?”
“I-Iwa-chan… is that my hoodie?”
“Huh?” Iwaizumi looks down at the hoodie he’s wearing. “Oh yeah. You forgot to take it last night. First thing I saw. Um, you don’t have a problem with it, do…” he trails off because Oikawa’s face is slowly turning red. “Oi! Oikawa! What’s wrong with you?”
“Y-you just look really— uh— I, um—“ Oikawa’s face is completely red. Iwaizumi slowly turns red too as Oikawa splutters and gestures wildly at him.
“Holy fuck, nope, I don’t want to be part of this. Get on the bus everyone!” Yahaba grabs his bag and boards the bus, muttering something about how the tension was bad enough before but now it’s intolerable. The others follow him, determinedly not looking at their captain or their ace. Oikawa’s the last to get on, his face buried in his hands.
“Everybody on?” The coach asks, closing the book he was reading.
“Yes coach,” mumbles Oikawa, looking at the floor. The coach gives him a funny look.
“Good! We’re leaving. Oikawa! Whatever’s wrong with you, snap out of it.”
“Yes coach.” Oikawa takes his seat next to Iwaizumi who looks embarrassed but also mildly smug.
“Come on, Seijou! We have a tournament to win!” The coach yells before reopening his book. Iwaizumi grips Oikawa’s hand and smiles. Oikawa smiles back.