Chapter Text
Oikawa woke up with a start.
He straightened up suddenly, panicked, sweaty, still half in his nightmare, only to be greeted by the decor of his darkened room. A glance at his alarm clock told him it was two twenty-eight in the morning. He brought a hand to his chest, trying to regulate his breathing, but his heart continued to beat at a frantic pace.
“What the hell is he doing,” he mumbled through his teeth.
He got out of bed, hurriedly shaking off the blankets to stagger to his bathroom. He leaned against the sink for a moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass, then shook his head to get back on his feet; he abruptly opened a drawer to take out a box of medicine and dropped two pills into his open palm. He looked at the mirror in front of him, which gave him an unflattering reflection -livid cheeks and sweaty hair- then opted for a third. He spilled the pills in his throat, filled a goblet of water to make them pass, and walked back to his bed.
“Are you okay?” a sleepy voice mumbled.
“Yeah. Go back to sleep.”
He lay back down, regaining the welcome warmth of the blankets. The pills had to take effect soon enough, and he could fall asleep again; even though it was always unpleasant to have to go through it in the middle of the night, it was always better than during sport or on an outing.
A slender hand with long fingernails rested on his arm, and he saw a sleepy gaze leaning over him:
“Are you in pain somewhere?”
“No.”
“It is... your soulmate, then?”
Oikawa wished his one-night stand was a little less curious. He made a mental note to write on his profile that he was looking for hookups, not confessors.
“Maybe.”
He didn't sound quite convinced himself, but that was enough for the girl. He heard the soft sound her body made when she sank back onto the mattress; the pills were starting to take effect, but not yet enough for his liking, and he felt the headaches come back when she said without preamble:
“You're lucky. My soulmate… She rejected me. Definitely. I no longer feel anything coming from her.”
“You call that luck?” Tooru retorted without looking at her. “Without the annihilators, it would be unlivable.”
A painful onomatopoeia took the place of an answer, which left him completely unmoved, and he suppressed a sigh when she resumed speaking:
“My soulmate. I met her when I was fifteen, but she was already nineteen. We took the same bus every morning. I felt it the day someone stepped on her foot -it hurt for her, we screamed at the same time, we looked at each other, and… and nothing more. When I went to talk to her, she told me that she already had a boyfriend, and that she didn't believe in soul mates. Now they are married. And that's all. I continued to feel his emotions for a while, then it withered to nothing. It's really pathetic, as a story.”
“Yeah.”
Oikawa really wanted to sleep. It was not yet three o'clock, he could still recover a little before going for his jogging; at least if this bitch wanted to stop talking, which was obviously not in her plans:
“What about you? Are they the one who rejected you, too?”
“No. It's me.”
“Why?”
Exasperated, Tooru deigned turning around to give her an icy look:
“Listen, it's a little late for the post-fuck talk. You’re leaving when I get up, so you better enjoy my bed a little longer.”
That was enough to silence her, and Oikawa closed his eyes in hope to ease the pain in his skull. He tried to remember his nightmare, but was too awake now to remember it clearly, only feeling a few feelings of fear and confusion. For a moment he hesitated to grab his phone, write a message, just like that, just in case… Then he changed his mind. Soulmates were no longer his concern.
He didn't really fall asleep again and dozed, half knocked out by the pills, until his alarm clock rang. He stood up without looking back, pulled on a pair of jogging pants and a sports T-shirt, then walked over to his kitchen to nibble on something before going for a run; the girl made her appearance as he was putting his mug in the dishwasher.
“I'm going,” she said, retrieving her purse.
“Bye,” Oikawa said without looking at her.
He heard her heels click down his hallway and the door shut, and didn't wait long before following her to go on his usual jogging path. The cool air in his hair and on his face made him feel good, the continuity of the effort created a calming rhythm. He kept his strides steady, back straight, chin raised, his breath drawing small clouds of vapor as he reached halfway to his goal.
The second half of the jog saw his condition deteriorate, however -but Tooru knew he was not the problem. Still he forced himself to run to his residence, and slowly walked up the stairs, once again beset with headaches and soreness. He couldn't disentangle clear feelings inside, just felt something heavy in his chest, unpleasant and impossible to ignore; he took another dose of annihilators before slipping into the shower stall.
He dressed for the day -black jeans, silky dark gray shirt- and was drying his hair when there was a knock on his door. He left the towel around his neck, a little disappointed that he hadn't had time to style his locks before opening the door, and noticed in passing that the girl from the night had left him her number - hastily written on a piece of paper placed on his hallway furniture. He didn't have time to tear it apart when someone knocked on his door again, more firmly this time.
“Yeah, I'm here,” he replied grudgingly.
He opened it, and his expression changed drastically when he saw police uniforms. Two officers stood outside his door, looking serious. The feeling of unease reappeared -his own this time.
“Oikawa Tooru?” one of them asked.
“Yes, it's me,” he replied despite the sudden dryness in his throat.
“I'm glad you are here. We are going to need your assistance.”
Oikawa swallowed hard.
“My… assistance? But why?”
The policemen exchanged a grim look, and Tooru could only think to what had happened that night, the sudden manifestations from the bond. It wasn't for him that they were there. One of the policemen handed him a photo, and he grabbed it with trembling fingers, immediately recognizing the boy in the snapshot.
“Is he your soulmate?”
“Yes,” he replied with a tight throat.
The agent inhaled, then nodded to his colleague and returned his gaze to Oikawa, riveting his eyes to his:
“He is missing, and it’s probably a kidnapping. We need you to find him before it's too late. We'll explain you everything inside, if you'll let us in -every hour counts.”
Oikawa froze in place, unable to speak, unable to act, unable to take his eyes off the glossy paper he still held in his hand, and on which appeared Kageyama Tobio's face.