Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Oikawa had never been turned down before. 

Yet here he stood, reeling in the aftermath. He got rejected. Hell, he was laughed at.

One minute passed. An errant flicker off the nearby lamp post was the only indication that time was passing at all. 

The night sky pressed down on his shoulders, thick and cloying. 

“What... the fuck?” was all he could manage to say. 

______________________________

It started with a simple curiosity. 

Oikawa noticed him several months ago. Karasuno had requested another practice match with Aoba Josai, which was readily agreed to. Fine by me, thought Oikawa when the announcement was made. He was keen for another chance to observe those two freak-quick first years and prepare for a real game. 

The rowdy team arrived at Seijoh on the day of the practice match, their firecracker excitement brighter still against those trim dark tracksuits. Their captain nodded, curt and polite. He held back some second years by the collars. 

“Thank you for having us,” he called out. The second years writhed, but his grip was firm. 

“Oh, anytime,” replied Oikawa cheerfully with a wave. He made for a fantastic host, always. Especially when he wanted to slam his guests into the ground. 

Warmups started soon after. Oikawa was busy stretching when familiar giggles began in the stands above. He looked up and winked, launching his spectators into a lovesick frenzy.

Nearby, Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

“Could you fucking cut it out and take this seriously?” he hissed. Iwaizumi was always adamant about the importance of stretching.

Oikawa smirked. He loved flirting; it was so easy to get a rise out of his teammates. Sure, the admiration was gratifying. But really anything was gratifying if it messed with Iwaizumi. 

“Aw, don’t get too jealous, Iwa-chan,” he sang, before narrowly dodging a ball aimed straight for his head. 

The lofted ceiling vibrated with sound as both teams continued warmups. Oikawa had just finished tossing some sets when he turned to face the net.

He hadn’t expected to be standing directly next to Karasuno’s setter, eyes trained intently on a drill. It wasn’t Kageyama. 

Curious, Oikawa paused to look at him.

His grey hair swayed smoothly with his movements behind the net. The setter turned his head to see Oikawa staring. Their faces couldn’t be more than a foot away from each other.

His eyes were startlingly dark, but from this distance Oikawa could see the bronze rung around their centers. He looked surprised, but smiled at Oikawa before returning his attention to his own side of the court. 

For just barely a moment, the world around Oikawa stood stock-still. The sunshine filtering through the gym windows pooled into the space between them, framing the other setter perfectly in its light. 

Time looped infinitely around the spool of this one second. Everything felt… radiant.

And then it was over. One of Oikawa’s teammates yelled at him to quit daydreaming. He took a startled step back. 

Oh, he thought softly.

______________________________

The match itself was largely uneventful. Aoba Josai lost the first set, but took the next two. The sun had already dragged itself down by the time Karasuno piled into their bus.

Oikawa reviewed the afternoon as he got ready for bed. He was pleased that his targeted serving accuracy had improved. And the combos he had pulled off with his spikers had been incredibly satisfying, especially when seeing those Karasuno blockers' frustrated faces.

Overall, a good match, but... Oikawa frowned. What was bothering him, then? He scanned through the details while washing his face. 

Finally, he crash-landed into one memory in particular: an incredibly genuine smile, a freckle crinkling softly in the corner of those eyes, blindingly metallic hair eclipsing the sunlight.

Oikawa jolted upright, his face dripping with cold water. He looked in the mirror at the wet, flustered boy in front of him. A scared dog caught in the rain. 

Forget about it, dumbass, he thought crossly, jabbing his finger at his reflection before drying his face and turning off the lights. 

______________________________

He was just curious, Oikawa assured himself. It’s good to know everything you can about the opposition. Plus he knew next to nothing about the silvery-haired boy, since he had been rather preoccupied with his own protégé on Karasuno’s team. 

He realized he hadn’t paid much attention to their other setter before.

Oikawa was sprawled in his chair, idly scrolling through his phone during lunch break. Laughter skipped circles around his head: some joke Oikawa hadn’t been paying attention to. The friendly chatter of the classroom was easy enough to tune out. 

An idea took shape, and he typed 'Karasuno volleyball team' into the search bar before he could overthink it. What was his name again? Something with an S.

Oikawa clicked on the school’s website and scrolled through the roster. Sugawara Kōshi, #2, vice captain. Oikawa bit into a cucumber spear and chewed thoughtfully, staring at the page. The taste was clean and bright on his tongue. 

Sugawara, huh?

______________________________

“Yo. Shittykawa.” 

Oikawa turned to face his insulter. “Yes, dearest Iwa?” 

Iwaizumi scowled as he threw his bag into his locker. 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Okay, okay. Truce. What’s up?

“Karasuno is playing some pickup match against Fukurodani tomorrow morning. It’s gonna be nearby. Figured you’d wanna go watch.” 

Oikawa pulled on his shoes. He knew it was a good opportunity. Fukurodani was a strong team, and he wanted to see how Karasuno would handle that. Plus...

He slammed his locker shut, effectively slamming the thought down with it.

“Sure, I’ll go with you. It’s a date, Iwa-chan~” he called as he sprinted out of the locker room, angry shouts following closely behind. 

______________________________

That Saturday morning fell hot on their backs as Oikawa and Iwaizumi made their way to the gym. Oikawa whistled into the warmth. This would be entertaining, he could just feel it. 

Iwaizumi, hands stuffed deep into pockets, watched his friend quietly for a while. 

“What’s got you all happy today? Did you finally dump that one chick? Uh... The mean one with the blonde hair?” ventured Iwaizumi, who had stopped trying to remember the names a while ago. Their faces blurred in his head, strung together only by the fact that they never lasted long.

Oikawa’s whistling was swapped for a frown. “I’m hurt, Iwa-chan! She and I broke up forever ago! I was devastated, don’t you remember?” 

Iwaizumi’s face darkened. He regretted asking. 

“You’re always devastated about something, fuckface. Remember that time you explained the theoretical existence of infinitely increasing infinities, just so you could say how devastated you were about ending things with that one sad emo guy in a band? I can’t keep track of your love life. You burn through a new fling, like, every week.”

It was true. Oikawa had never felt any sense of permanence when he dated. All his past relationships were led by a flash of passion that almost immediately fizzled into boredom. He was thoroughly flattered when people made advances, and everybody knew he could be a smooth talker. But his heart always stayed fixed in its place: untouchable and immovable. 

He would never admit that he liked it that way. 

“Whatever,” Oikawa pouted, unable to come up with a better retort. They entered the gym. 

______________________________

It took Oikawa’s eyes a second to adjust as they left the sunshine at the door. He could hear sneakers squeaking and the forceful thwap of a spiked volleyball hitting the ground. 

Fukurodani was doing full court warm-ups first. Their captain jumped around, excitement overflowing from his limbs.

“AKAASHI!” His voice boomed as he pumped his fists above his head. 

The dark-haired boy standing next to him flinched slightly, no doubt surprised. “I’m right here, Bokuto-san. You don’t need to shout.” 

Akaashi turned towards the court and tossed a set. So calm and efficient, Oikawa observed. Moments later the ball was slicing through the air, crashing into the back corner of the court. The spiker gave Akaashi a high five and bounced back to the line. 

“I’m sorry, Akaashiii. I’m just so PUMPED! We get to play Hinata! And Suga! AND Tsukki!” Bokuto beamed wildly.

“I know, I’m excited too. And we’re gonna do great together,” replied Akaashi. He picked up a loose ball and handed it to Bokuto. 

Oikawa wasn’t sure he had seen it properly... but Bokuto’s cheeks might have turned slightly pink before he sprinted back to the service line. Must be overexerting himself before the match could even start. 

Karasuno got the court shortly after. Oikawa knew all too well that Kageyama was inhumanly talented, but it was still unsettling to watch him from a distance like this. 

An invisible pressure was building on the court. All the spikers were solemn, their faces firm as they ran up for the set.

“Kageyama runs a pretty militant show, huh,” said Oikawa. Iwaizumi hummed his agreement. The first year’s intensity inspired his teammates to push themselves as well. He had gotten much better at communicating, but his conversations with his teammates were still clipped. 

Oikawa switched to watching the suspiciously old-looking Karasuno’s ace hit spikes for their libero to dig up.

Karasuno’s coach shouted, his voice gravely. “Suga! You’re up for sets.” 

Oikawa turned quicker than he would have liked. Annoyed with himself, he pushed back in his chair with crossed arms. 

“We haven’t seen this one in action yet, have we?” wondered Iwaizumi as Sugawara finished a pass and walked onto the court. Oikawa was grateful for this small miracle, his reaction having gone unnoticed. 

“No, just Tobio-chan. Remember we insisted on him being the only setter for our first match? He didn’t play the second one either.”

“Oh, right. Well this should be useful then.” 

The two boys watched Sugawara grin and slap Kageyama’s back as the two switched places. Almost as soon as he took his position by the net, the whole atmosphere changed.

The spikers were still going full force, but something about the entire drill felt... lighter. Sugawara engaged with each one of his teammates after their spike, offering them praise and responding to their feedback. 

He was affectionate, too: ruffling their hair, clapping them on the shoulder, playfully kicking them behind the knees as they walked away. Oikawa watched, transfixed, as he laughed through an intricate handshake with the captain. 

Sure, he didn’t have that laser accuracy only Kageyama could pull off. But even so... Oikawa’s brows furrowed as he watched the tiny ginger slam down another good set and jump up for a high five. Sugawara had his teammates’ complete trust. 

That trust made playing with Sugawara look comfortable. Made it look fun.

Oikawa frowned. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

______________________________

The match went even better than Oikawa expected. All three sets were close, and both teams fought hard, right down to the last whistle. 

Oikawa was impressed with Fukurodani, even though he thought the ace’s antics were a little too volatile. But his spikes were fucking untouchable when paired with a toss from that levelheaded setter. 

Karasuno played well, too. They were always workshopping weird combos, and today was no different. Their captain pulled them out of some tight spots with those impossible receives, and Kageyama was making annoying but undeniable progress with his jump serve. 

Karasuno’s bag of tricks wasn’t quite enough to get them the win this time, but they still looked pleased with their playing as the teams shook hands under the net. 

“TSUKKI!” bellowed Bokuto as he pulled the lanky boy forward, almost toppling him over. “You did great! Maybe one day you’ll be able block my AWESOME spikes! Probably not though, hehe~” he laughed as Tsukishima rolled his eyes. 

“Thanks, Bokuto. Very inspiring,” deadpanned Tsukishima.

Both teams began to disassemble the net and pack up their gear. Oikawa asked Iwaizumi if he was ready to leave. 

“Oh!” cried Hinata, leaping around. How does he still have that much energy? “It’s the Great King!” he pointed up in the stands at Oikawa. 

“Chibi-chan, great match!” Oikawa called down to the court. It wasn’t undue praise. Comparing this match to their first, the tiny middle blocker was improving at a dizzying speed. 

Hinata positively beamed. He elbowed Kageyama. 

“Didja hear that? The Great King complimented ME!” 

Kageyama was toweling sweat off his forehead. Playing the whole game took its toll on his body, which was now being assaulted by Hinata’s elbow. He looked up, face impassive. 

Iwaizumi waved politely. Oikawa blew a mock kiss.

The first year went dark red, huffing discontentedly before he stomped off to help fold the net. 

“Oh, that’s Oikawa!” said Bokuto, who was apparently trying to see how many volleyballs he could hold at once. He lost three as he spun to face the stands. “You’re at Aoba Josai, right? Come toss for me!” 

Akaashi sighed behind him. “Bokuto-san, the net isn’t even up anymore. We don’t have much time left in the gym anyways.” 

Bokuto visibly deflated, before perking right back up. “Wait! That’s your vice captain, right?” he dropped the remaining balls and pointed to Iwaizumi, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Bokuto continued earnestly without waiting for a response. “Come get food with us! It can be a captain and vice captain thing! You’re in, right Daichi?” 

Daichi looked over from a conversation with his coach. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Food! Captains! Fun times!!” cheered Bokuto. “You’re coming!” It was more a statement than a request.

Daichi looked exhausted, but smiled. “Sure, I could use a good meal.” Bokuto whooped and held up his hands for a double high five from Akaashi, who complied wordlessly. 

Iwaizumi inched towards the exit. “Oh no you fucking don’t,” Oikawa snatched his arm. “You wanted to come to this match, you’re doing this with me.”

Iwaizumi groaned in protest. “You wanted to come too! I’m tapping out here. Small talk is dumb as hell.” Pretty much everyone knew Oikawa's best friend shied away from any unnecessary conversation. He had saved his favorite unaired Iwaizumi interview from last year's quarterfinals, and watched it when he needed cheering up. Something about watching him getting cross and calling Ushijima “a self-righteous little bitch” before the camera cut to static... It was a cure for even the worst days. 

Oikawa had already missed his chance to politely decline. Going alone would be twice as miserable. 

“Iwa, we’ve already been invited. It would be rude not to.” Iwaizumi didn’t look convinced. 

“I’ll pay for your food,” coaxed Oikawa. Iwaizumi was sullenly silent as he considered the bribe. 

“Fine. But I’m getting the most expensive shit they’ve got.” 

Chapter Text

Oikawa stood in the afternoon warmth. He leaned on the sun-rimmed doorframe, idly swinging his keys while he waited.

“We’ll just be a minute!” Daichi assured him as both teams headed to the locker rooms. Bokuto looked like he was about to ricochet off the walls. “CAPTAIN PARTY! This is gonna be great!” 

Oikawa sighed. His keys jingled, mocking him. 

Iwaizumi had mumbled something about needing to use the bathroom. A list of potential punishments was already forming in Oikawa’s head, just in case his friend ditched. He settled on bringing a new girl to watch practice every day for a week. 

“Oh- hey,” said a voice behind him. Oikawa turned. 

It was Sugawara. 

He stood at the gym door, holding his bag strap in one hand and rubbing the back of his neck with the other. He had swapped his jersey for a dark green t-shirt. The color looked unfairly good on him.

“I don’t think we’ve officially met before,” Sugawara went on. Oikawa could hardly hear the other boy over the heartbeat that had leapt to his ears. “I’m-”

“I know who you are,” blurted Oikawa. Shit. That sounded sinister. He had forgotten that Sugawara was the vice captain; he hadn’t prepared for this, hadn’t prepared for how his eyes looked even warmer against that green. 

Sugawara’s lips parted slightly in surprise. “Oh. Um, cool.” 

A freckle stood out on Sugawara’s neck, right above his collarbone. Oikawa cursed the mental image it inspired: reaching out to touch the pale skin, softly and carefully, his fingertip warmed by the nearness… 

Oikawa clenched his keys down in his hand. Hard. The biting pain of metal on his palm chased away any more dangerous thoughts. He took in a breath. Just be polite. No more and no less.  

“Where’s... everybody else?” he asked, making sure his tone was open and friendly as he peered into the gym doors behind Sugawara. 

Sugawara looked up. Even his eyelashes are silvery. Something twitched within Oikawa, deep and unbidden. 

“They’re showering. I didn’t have to,” Sugawara said simply, before looking away again. 

“Oh.”

Shit. Obviously. Sugawara hadn’t played this match. Oikawa was rarely at a loss for words. Yet here he stood with his keys clamped in his hand and his tongue clamped in his mouth. He glanced back at the other setter.

Sugawara’s face was closely guarded, but that was enough to guess how he felt. To be benched as a third year? Oikawa couldn't even begin to imagine. His mind groped around frantically, desperate to find the right thing to say...

“Hey-”

“SUGA!!"

Bokuto, in both sound and form, crashed in from behind to throw his arms around Sugawara’s shoulders. His still damp streaky hair clung to his forehead. 

“I've missed you! We have to go to a concert again sometime, okay?” 

Sugawara laughed off his shock from the tackle. He almost looked... grateful. Oikawa decided to pointedly ignore the knot slowly twisting up his stomach. He also decided to ignore Bokuto’s question. It would only lead to more questions of his own.

Sugawara patted Bokuto’s arm. “Sure, Bokuto! That’d be fun. I’ll keep an eye out for shows.” 

Daichi and Akaashi came soon after, engrossed in their own quiet conversation. 

“A-hm.” A throat cleared next to Oikawa. Iwaizumi, announcing his return. Looks like the girls aren’t necessary.  

Oikawa sighed inwardly as the six of them began to walk towards the parking lot, the sun now at its peak over their heads.

It really was a gorgeous day. 

He wanted to go home. 

______________________________

Daichi had picked the restaurant. It was close by, only a quick and mostly painless walk, and the friendly atmosphere (as well as the working AC) abaded Oikawa’s bitterness as they piled into a booth. 

“What are you going to get, Bokuto-san?” asked Akaashi, leaning in close to look at Bokuto’s menu.

Bokuto’s eyes widened: two gold suns above the scorched planes of his cheeks.

“Ahh-haha!” he laughed, a little too unsteadily to be characteristic. “I’m not sure! Here,” he shoved the menu towards Akaashi. “You choose first!” 

Iwaizumi was scanning through the menu, most likely trying to find the priciest option. 

Oikawa was too busy trying to contain himself to care. By some mean trick of fate, Sugawara ended up sitting next to him.

Stop being a dumbass. Get over it. You always get over it. This is no different. Actually it IS different because it is NOTHING.  But the incident earlier left Oikawa thinking about the boy to his side even more. His curiosity had only grown since the first time he saw that smile through the net, dizzyingly bright. 

He glanced sideways. 

Sugawara was engrossed in the menu, skating his finger across the different options. “Oh they have mapo tofu!” he said excitedly, hovering over the description. “Dai-san, you’ve been here before. What’s good?” 

Oikawa had to rip his attention off the tiny freckle on Sugawara’s cheek. He forced himself to find Daichi’s recommendations on the menu as they were listed. 

From the other side of the table, Bokuto whooped delightedly. “Akaashi- let’s split the yakitori!” he sang, apparently fully recovered from whatever happened earlier. 

The boys sipped their drinks gratefully after the waiter took orders. 

“So, Daichi!” Bokuto started, after a small pause in the conversation. He propped his elbows up on the table. His hair was dry now, and so different without his signature spikes. More like the fluffy down of a bird. “When can we steal Hinata?” 

Daichi snorted. “I’m afraid if I let him practice with you too much, you’d end up actually kidnapping him.” 

Bokuto gasped in extreme surprise. “No! I would never- Akaashi, tell him I would NEVER-” Akaashi chose to drink his tea instead, unwilling to implicate himself in the custody battle.   

Sugawara laughed. 

Oikawa felt that same twitch from before. 

God, his laugh was so refreshing. Like the AC cooling the dampness off their backs, like the iced matcha latte Iwaizumi had made a face at his ordering. 

It almost made Oikawa stop wishing he had gone home. 

Desperate to divert himself, Oikawa threw his hat in the ring. “We’d be happy to borrow Chibi-chan, too!” 

“I bet setting for him is a dream,” he added with a smile towards Sugawara, before he could think better of it. Before he could think at all, really.

Sugawara laughed even harder at this. The diversion mission went up in smoke at the sound.

“Sometimes it is,” replied Sugawara, who was watching the ice shift in his drink as he twirled his straw through it. “But he’s still so new to everything. We fuck up a lot.”

His eyes met Oikawa’s. There was no malice in his gaze, no motive. Just that same whole warmth from the first time. Oikawa felt the unwinding of whatever knot had built itself around his stomach. 

He forgot how to look away.

“OH-! food time!” exclaimed Bokuto. Sugawara turned to look where Bokuto was fervently pointing. Thank fuck.

Iwaizumi pumped his fist, which set off a different worry for Oikawa. Good thing he still had his part-time coaching job. His wallet was about to suffer. 

Sugawara’s shoulder brushed against his as the plates were set on the table.

Oikawa shivered at the touch. 

______________________________

He didn’t see the other setter for a while after that. Aoba Josai was busy with their own training, and schoolwork snatched away whatever spare hours he had. 

He sighed. An empire of papers and books surrounded him, all sprawled out on the table. 

The local public library was one of Oikawa’s favorite places to go when he needed to focus. Massive windows let in plenty of natural light, and Oikawa loved watching the sky change as the hours passed. It was cool and clean and quiet inside, a welcome respite from the loud stickiness of the summer.

It was also a good place to go when he needed to distract himself. 

Honestly, Oikawa didn’t have much time to think about Sugawara. He was too busy trying to incorporate Kyoutani back into the team. Hanamaki and Matsukawa finally agreed to stop riling up the temperamental second year (in exchange for a copy of the infamous Iwaizumi interview).

Trying to mediate between Kyoutani and Kunimi had proven far more difficult. Oikawa’s nerves were frayed bare from the constant arguments. Their animosity was leeching into the team dynamic; practices had begun to suffer.

In short, the whole thing was a headache.

But sometimes the memory of that laugh, honest and sparkling, exploded in his mind like a struck match.

He threw himself even harder into his schedule. Normally it did the trick when these kinds of feelings outlasted their welcome. Normally.

Frowning, Oikawa adjusted his glasses and thumbed through another assignment. One of the paper corners slipped, nicking his pointer finger.

“Ouch!” he hissed, sucking in air hard through his teeth. The cut itself was tiny but its pain rang sharp from his fingertip. One drop of blood beaded slowly, almost apologetically. He stood up, about to find a way to deal with this annoyance-

“Oh, did you get a paper cut?” someone asked softly beside him. He turned. 

Sugawara leaned in, looking inquisitively at the injury. His hands were stuffed into the pocket of his short-sleeved hoodie, a backpack slung over one shoulder. A pale crop of freckles had sprung up across his nose since the last time they had seen eachother. 

“Uh, yeah... I was just-” Why was he here? Why couldn't Oikawa speak properly?

Sugawara looked up at him, eyes round in surprise. Oikawa desperately hoped his face didn't look as red as it felt. 

“Oikawa! I didn’t-- Sorry, I didn’t recognize you!” He tapped a pair of invisible glasses with a smile. “Do you need a band-aid? I’ve got a couple in my bag. You’d be surprised at how injury prone my friends are.” Oikawa stood, speechless. He cradled his finger as Sugawara set his bag on the table and started rummaging. 

“Thanks,” was all Oikawa could eventually manage. He felt the throb in his finger, pinging in short little bursts. 

“Anytime!” Sugawara grinned wide at Oikawa before returning his attention to his bag. Oikawa felt another, altogether different throb in his stupid traitorous chest.

“I’ve got some antiseptic, too. If you sit down, I can help you out.” 

Oikawa opened his mouth to decline but the words that came out instead were, “Thanks, Sugawara-san.” 

Fuck.

He sat down in spite of himself. Suga pulled up a chair and set the supplies on the table, careful not to disturb Oikawa’s kingdom still scattered across it. 

“Here, give me your hand.” Sugawara held his own hand out.

Oikawa didn’t know it was possible for his body to run hot and cold at the same time. 

He gave Sugawara his hand. A thin trickle of red ran down his finger. Oikawa watched it like his life depended on it. He was desperate: desperate not to look at Sugawara’s eyelashes, or feel how warm his hands were, or see the one wisp of hair fall into his face as he leaned in further over his handiwork, or notice the way he bit his lower lip in concentration, or notice his lips at all, or- god damn it. 

Sugawara dabbed the cut gently with antiseptic on a tissue. He was too focused to bear witness to the other boy's miseries. Oikawa stared out the paned windows, frantically tracking the trail of the only cloud there. The once-expansive library was starting to feel rather cramped. 

“Paper cuts are so annoying,” Sugawara chatted amiably as he finished cleaning the area. Oikawa was trying to memorize the titles on the nearby bookshelf.  

Sugawara kept talking as he worked. His voice was soft and low within the silence of the library, but Oikawa could hear it far too clearly. “They're like. Tiny, but you can’t even move without noticing, yknow? How could something so simple have such a big impact on your life? They force you to change the way you go about doing everything. Annoying.”

Oikawa mentally ran through each of his teammates’ favorite tosses.  

He fought against the urge to stare at Sugawara’s hands.

He failed.

Sugawara’s fingers were slender and deft, one hand clasped around Oikawa’s wrist as the other reached into the bandaid box. Leave it to a setter to have such pretty hands, Oikawa thought bitterly.

He went back to memorizing book titles.

Sugawara finished wrapping the finger and freed him at last. 

Reality crunched back outwards into its regular shape. Oikawa’s lungs flooded with air and relief. Any pain left in his finger was completely overridden by the lingering sensation of Sugawara’s hands holding his own. He tucked his offending hand in his lap, refusing to look at it. As if seeing it would confirm the reality of what just happened.

Sugawara continued. “But I guess it makes you appreciate everything a little bit better. How important your own hands are, at least.”  He finished this line of musing by looking down at his own palms. There was a small freckle on the tip of his left thumb.

Oikawa swallowed hard. Don’t think about how pretty his hands are. Don’t think about them. Don’t think about kissing them. Please. 

These pleads only made him more aware of his predicament, of all the things he couldn’t allow himself to want but somehow wanted anyways. 

Sugawara straightened in his chair and collected the trash into a small pile. “Sorry again for not recognizing you. I didn’t know you wore glasses.” 

Finally, blessedly, Oikawa found his voice. “Yeah- just when I study. Those sports glasses your middle blocker wears don’t really fit my look.”

The grey haired boy laughed a little too loudly for a library. A resounding thrill struck Oikawa at the base of his spine, reverberating through his vertebrae. It was dangerous, hearing that laugh after it had been echoing in his head for so long. 

“You're right. I don’t think I could see you wearing those,” Sugawara admitted. He reached over for his bag and began packing his supplies.

“You really look out for your friends,” said Oikawa, trying to imagine how Iwaizumi would respond if Oikawa had band-aids stocked for him. He'd probably get Oikawa checked for blunt force trauma. Iwaizumi’s punches could do that kind of damage, if he truly wanted. 

“Well, like I said- they need fixing up pretty frequently,” Sugawara explained as he zipped his backpack shut. “And I may or may not be the reason they get into most of those scrapes,” he confided. A small, wry smile played across his face as he looked back at Oikawa, silver falling into his eyes.

Oikwawa was sure he was dying. Surely, this was what it meant to die. 

Sugawara stood up. “Well! I have to get going, gotta get ready for practice.” He shouldered his bag and gave a small salute. “Later, Oikawa! Careful around paper for a while, yeah? Don’t let it get the best of you again.” He smirked, scrunching the freckles on his nose.

“I’ll be careful. Thank you again,” Oikawa heard his voice say, worlds away as he watched the other boy leave. 

This is death. I am a dead man. I am dying and dead and deceased. 

He flopped backwards in his chair and scrubbed at his face. His bandaged finger felt rubbery smooth and foreign against his skin. He sighed, and pulled his hands away to inspect Sugawara’s handiwork.

Oikawa choked on an amused laugh. 

The band-aid had watermelons on it. 

Chapter Text

“Sugawara-senpai! You promised you’d go over that new trip play with me!” Hinata whined, a volleyball tucked in the crook of his arm. He was already dressed for practice. Sugawara absently wondered if he had skipped out on the last minutes of class. 

“We just got out of school, Hinata,” said Daichi patiently as he folded his slacks and tucked them into his locker. “Don’t worry! We’ll be there in a second.” He looked over at Sugawara, who was staring at his phone with a slight frown. 

“Everything... okay?” Daichi asked quietly. He leaned in to shield his question from the chaos surrounding them. This meant he didn’t notice Tanaka and Nishinoya’s flexing contest starting several lockers down, otherwise he would have killed it cold with one look.

Sugawara stared at his phone for a second longer before catching the question. “Yeah- yeah! Sorry. Just... yeah, everything’s fine,” he said unconvincingly. Tanaka and Nishinoya shook hands in a diplomatic truce behind them, the contest called at a draw so they could go see Kiyoko sooner. 

Daichi’s eyes narrowed, concern etched in his voice. “Suga.” 

Sugawara sighed. “It really isn’t a big deal, I promise. I just didn’t know why, um.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I wasn’t sure why Oikawa followed me on Instagram.” 

“OIKAWA FOLLOWED YOU ON INSTAGRAM?” shouted Hinata as he shoved his head between them.

So much for discreteness, Sugawara thought miserably. 

“I follow a bunch of different liberos I look up to!” chimed in Nishinoya. “He probably likes your setting style, Suga!” He grinned confidently as he gave Sugawara a thumbs up. 

“Probably not the only thing of yours he likes!” yelled Tanaka from a few lockers down before breaking into some wolf howls and spinning his shirt over his head.

Sugawara’s face flared bright red. 

Ennoshita cut a warning glare towards Tanaka, who cleared his throat and dashed towards the gym, grinning to himself. He shoved his shirt back on and stopped at the door. 

“You’re super hot, Suga, I don’t blame him!” Tanaka called over his shoulder when he was a safe distance from both Daichi and Ennoshita.

Sugawara wanted to climb inside his locker and stay there forever. 

Kageyama sat on the bench, frowning into space with a half untied shoe in his lap. “He doesn’t follow me…” Sugawara heard him mumble. 

“Maybe because you only post boring shit,” said Tsukishima amusedly. 

Daichi put a hand on Sugawara’s shoulder while the two first years bickered behind them. “Well, we saw him after that one match. Maybe he wants to be friends!” 

Sugawara didn’t feel like mentioning the time at the library.

“You're cool, Suga-senpai, and so is your insta!” Yamaguchi supplied, his tone reassuring. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed.” Hinata nodded furiously in agreement. 

“Yeah!! That picture with Bokuto was ---” Hinata finished this thought by flinging his arms up in the air and gesturing wildly. “I wish I could have been there!!! It looked so awesome!” 

Sugawara laughed. He could always rely on Hinata to lighten the mood. 

He tapped something on his phone, shut his locker, and decided not to think about it anymore. 

“Thanks guys. C'mon, Hinata, let’s go try out that trip play.” 

______________________________

Oikawa wasn’t even sure he could classify this as curiosity anymore. Not without lying to himself, at least. 

It wasn’t like he never had a crush before. Oikawa had gone through thousands of crushes. But they were bright, pretty things made to shatter instantly. They took up no space in his heart or his mind. 

This was different. 

This was… annoying. 

Why did he get flustered when Iwaizumi asked about the band-aid? Why did he even keep it on after he got home from the library? Why did he find Sugawara on Instagram, and why did he follow him? Why did he gasp excitedly when Sugawara followed him back? 

But perhaps worst of all- why, why, WHY did he scroll through Sugawara’s posts, see the picture of him and Bokuto at a concert, look up the name of the band, and start listening to them?

Oikawa decided that no, he wasn’t dying. He was just going fucking insane. 

Sugawara was right. Touching anything brought the paper cut back to his attention. Setting became a small sort of nightmare. He was more grateful for his fingertips than he ever had been in his life. 

Oikawa felt two halves of himself tugging frantically at his attention. 

One half was entirely captivated by the pretty Karasuno setter. His hair that looked so soft, his tiny freckle that Oikawa wanted to trace his finger against, his smile, his laugh, his genuine caring for his friends, his fun, mischievous nature…

The tiniest things brought Sugawara to mind.

Oikawa felt his heart in his throat one day when he saw watermelon slices for sale in a street vendor stand. On multiple occasions he caught himself debating on what to wear to the library, in case he ran into Sugawara again. He found out that Sugawara’s taste in music, fast-paced and guitar heavy, was perfect for morning jogs. 

Watching recordings of old Karasuno matches could easily be veiled by his keen intent to eviscerate the team. But this explanation didn’t save his chest from squeezing uncomfortably anytime he spotted Sugawara in action. It didn’t matter who they got pitted against. It didn't matter what weird strengths their opponent had. Sugawara adapted and supported his teammates each and every time. 

Oikawa bit the end of his thumb as he watched another clip, struggling to find the right word to describe it. Sugawara as a setter… he was…  

Sugawara screamed in victory after stealing a difficult rally from Date Tech. Sweat was pouring down his face, bursting with pride and satisfaction. Oikawa tapped the screen to pause on this frame. 

He’s indomitable. 

The other half of him hated this whole ordeal. Oikawa had always been comfortable flirting because he was entirely grounded and in control. Something about Sugawara… that smile sucked the gravity out of Oikawa’s chest. He was floating helplessly without any grips to hold onto.

Having an immovable heart made him feel safe. He missed basking in peace before his brain became host to dumb questions like, What’s Sugawara’s favorite snack? Is that his real hair color? Why did he choose to be a setter? 

Oikawa had always been very careful: never letting anybody close enough to leave a mark, close enough to see him with all his cards on the table. Just thinking about the possibility made him sick.

He was exhausted. 

______________________________

“Oi. Shithead.” Iwaizumi sat next to Oikawa on the concrete park ledge, both still panting from their run.  

Oikawa adjusted his shoelaces before straightening.

“What?” 

Iwaizumi stared at him. “That’s it?”

“I.. huh?” Oikawa stared back, confused. 

Iwaizumi stretched and leaned back, propped up on his elbows.

“No witty quips, no annoying nicknames, no dramatics. Tooru…” he trailed off. 

Oikawa’s eyes widened. Iwazumi hardly ever used his first name. 

Iwaizumi leaned further, laying back on the pavement as he looked up at his friend. He continued. “You and me, we’ve got a rhythm in our... friendship. I can tell when something is off, because the rhythm gets thrown off. And it's super off. I’m... Ugh. Listen, I'm worried about you.” 

Oikawa managed a weak chuckle. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Iwa.”

They sat in silence for a while on the warm concrete. 

“Do you wanna… talk about it?” Iwaizumi asked. 

Oikawa sighed, weighing his options. He was fed up with the relentless negative thoughts. He hated to acknowledge it, but he knew the one feeling wedged deepest within his core, artfully hidden by bravado and charm:

Oikawa was afraid. 

He thought about Sugawara’s kind, reassuring presence. The warmth of it filled his whole body like a sunlit room. 

“I like somebody,” he finally said. 

Iwaizumi was quiet for a moment. “Um. Is this… different? Than usual? I’ve just never seen you this genuinely torn up about liking somebody.” 

It was Oikawa’s turn to lay down, his palms pressed into the gravel. The sky was endless above them. 

“Yeah, it’s different.” Oikawa had been terrified of admitting either of these truths. Now that he had done so, the screaming match in his head stilled to a whisper. 

“Can I ask…” Iwaizumi trailed off. His voice was uncharacteristically gentle.  

Iwaizumi was a good guy. Despite all Oikawa’s teasing and tormenting, he was grateful they were best friends. 

“Can I ask who it is?”

Oikawa smiled up into the blue. 

“No, but I promise it isn’t you,” he teased, breaking out into laughter before Iwazumi had a chance to react. 

Iwazumi made a strangled noise and shoved him. “I was being NICE! Why’d you have to go and ruin it?!!” he yelled, punching Oikawa’s shoulder.

Oikawa couldn’t stop giggling as he rolled away, the laughter far lighter in his lungs.  

Chapter Text

“Makki. Remind me why I’m here again?” 

Hanamaki grinned. “You’re here because you’re a great captain.” 

Flattery worked on Oikawa, but only up to a certain point. 

He rolled his eyes. 

“Uh huh. And what does that have to do with dragging me along on a shopping trip for your boyfriend?”

It was a perfect Saturday afternoon. Apparently all of Miyagi had the same idea as Hanamaki, considering how packed the mall was. Two children bumped past them holding treacherously tall ice creams while a worried woman chased after. 

Two hours in and Hanamaki still hadn’t picked anything. 

Hanamaki huffed. “Our anniversary is coming up! Don’t you think these kinds of things are important to know about and help your teammates out with?” 

They passed another store. (Thirty minutes ago, Hanamaki had insisted the teal sweatshirt they saw inside was “too predictable” to give to Matsukawa.) 

“I was fine helping you out before I knew how much of a pain you are to shop with,” Oikawa grumbled. 

“Bitch and moan all you want, you already know the tradeoff here.” 

Right. Hanamaki promised to stay for additional practice for a week if Oikawa came along. And he didn’t have any other obligations today, since Hanamaki had trapped him on one of his rare free days.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets resignedly. 

“Fine, fine. Where to next? Maybe... a food break? I thought I saw the sweets shop along the way somewhere.” Oikawa looked around, craning his head.

“You always try to get us to go to the sweets shop, you sugar fiend,” Hanamaki teased him. “You’re like, the largest three year old I know.” 

Oikawa shoved his shoulder. “Oh fuck off. You could afford to be a little sweeter, as it stands.” 

“Hey! I AM sweet. Ask Matsukawa.”

“Doesn’t count if it’s just to your boyfriend.” 

“Ask Iwaizumi then.” 

“No. He’d disagree with me just for the sake of it.” 

Hanamaki stuck out his tongue. “Stop catching on to all of my tactics. It makes it less fun.” 

Oikawa laughed. “That’s not true, I think you and Mattsun love finding new ways to torment me.” 

“Perhaps!” Hanamaki beamed. 

They turned a corner onto a row of new stores. An impressively tall row of plants lined the center of the mall. The curved glass ceiling high above filtered onto their large dark leaves. The plaza was full of sunshine and chatter and the smell of good food. A couple was seated on a nearby bench, chatting and eating dango together.

Oikawa’s pulse quickened. 

What if he asked Sugawara to come here with him? Did Sugawara like sweets? Would he sit with Oikawa and split an order of dango? Did he like to shop? Oikawa’s heart flipped funny, imagining Sugawara trying on different outfits. Sugawara in a suit, Sugawara in a knitted sweater, Sugawara in a skirt…

“OIKAWA.” Hanamaki waved his hand in front of Oikawa’s face. He jolted backwards.

“Jesus! What!” 

“You were staring at those plants for like, three minutes straight. I need you to stay lucid! This is an important mission! Anyways let’s check out this store up here, it looks like its got lots of things!”

He pulled Oikawa by the arm towards a brightly colored variety store, packed full of odds and ends. 

“I could be more of a help if I knew what you were looking for,” Oikawa reminded him as they perused the store. Hanamaki picked up a small snowglobe with a cherry tree inside, eyed it closely, then set it back down.

“I’m looking for something that’s gonna make him say ‘Wow, I love you so much, Takahiro, let’s skip practice today and go watch Terminator and make out on my sofa.’”

Oikawa scrunched his nose in lieu of a response. He picked up a pack of beautiful silver pens and held it up for his friend's inspection. Hanamaki squinted from an aisle away. He shook his head disapprovingly. 

Groaning, Oikawa set the pens down and passed through another aisle. He had never made it to an anniversary with any of his exes, so he never needed to worry about things like this. Or maybe his never worrying about things like this was part of why he never made it to any anniversaries.

He was trying to avoid these introspective thoughts when he heard a familiar voice.

“...listen I know you’re in love with my sister, Daichi, but I really don’t think she’s gonna be convinced by-  wait.” 

Oikawa looked up, towards the entrance of the store. 

There stood Sugawara and Daichi, looking back at him. 

“Whoah, hey!” Sugawara waved.

He was wearing a shirt that simply read 'COOL DAD' across the front in bright fun letters, and a pair of colorfully patterned shorts. He and Daichi made for an interesting pair, what with Daichi's simple dark polo shirt and jeans. 

Oikawa waved back and walked towards the entrance. His pulse pattered wildly in his ears. Sugawara was so good at catching him unaware; everything about him kept Oikawa off balance. He had only recently made his admission to Iwaizumi.  And he had just imagined going on a date with Sugawara here-

Oikawa nearly tripped over a display of umbrellas. 

“Man, are you alright?” asked Sugawara, stepping closer with a hand outstretched. 

"Totally fine!” Oikawa said, his voice pitched high. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I was just surprised to see you two here.” 

Sugawara grinned a bit too widely. “Oh~ I’m just here with Daichi, who wants to try to-”

Daichi shoved him. “I am trying to find a present for a girl.” 

Oikawa’s eyebrows lifted at the threatening tone he laid on the last two words. 

“Oikawa! Does Matsukawa like boiled eggs, do you know?” Hanamaki called out from somewhere in the store. 

Sugawara and Daichi both looked curiously towards the voice, then towards Oikawa. 

“I have no idea,” responded Oikawa over his shoulder. He turned back. “I’m here with my friend Makki. You probably know him. Number three, wing spiker? With the short hair?” He gestured along his forehead. The other two boys nodded their heads in recognition. “He’s trying to find a gift for his boyfriend. We’ve been here for hours.” 

Daichi laughed. “Oh, it sounds like we’ve got the same goal then!” 

“She’s not your girlfriend, though,” pointed out Sugawara. 

“Suga!” It was funny to watch the mature, collected captain plead like this.

“What! It’s true!” 

Daichi frowned. “Well. I’m going in here anyways. Maybe there’s something that she’ll like.” 

He left in a huff, stopping to look at the same silver pens Oikawa had tried earlier. This left Oikawa alone with Sugawara. 

“Dai-san, we’ll be back,” Sugawara called. He turned to Oikawa. “I’m starving. Have you eaten yet?” 

Oikawa stared at him for too long of a moment before realizing he hadn’t answered the question out loud. 

“Oh- no, I haven’t. Makki’s pretty brutal with his shopping schedule.” 

Sugawara laughed brightly.

Your laugh is so pretty, it is so goddamn pretty, I swear it will end me, thought Oikawa. He wanted to fold it up and carry it with him, to listen to it again and again. 

“Well I’m sure he’ll let me borrow you. Especially if I leave a shopping partner in your place,” Sugawara mused.  

This was the best proposition Oikawa had heard all day. Even better than getting a practice partner for a week. 

“Makki, I’ll be back in a little bit! Ask the Karasuno Captain if you need love advice!” 

“O-kayy!” he heard from somewhere in the store. 

They walked out into the sunny plaza. The same couple was still sitting there, still eating. 

“Oh shit, I love dango,” Sugawara said when he saw them.  

Oikawa’s heart thundered against his ribcage. Was this what Yahaba was always talking about, manifesting the things you wanted? Sure, Oikawa had finally accepted his crush. But he hadn't expected anything to come of it. He still didn’t. 

Letting the smallest sprout of hope push up through the cracks right now would be a disaster. He didn’t know if Sugawara even liked boys.  

Even so. 

“Dango does sound nice,” admitted Oikawa. 

______________________________

The two walked around aimlessly after eating. They ended up also stopping for something more substantial, since Sugawara’s stomach growled loudly after the dango.

“When do you have to be back?” asked Sugawara.

He glanced at Oikawa, who was fiddling with his watch. Even in a plain white t-shirt and black jeans, Oikawa was stunning. Sugawara had seen the way people stared at him, whispering with their eyes glued to him. A girl had even come up and asked him for his number. 

Oikawa looked at his phone. “I haven’t gotten any texts yet, so we've probably got a bit more time.” He swung his keys in his hand as they walked. 

“OH!” he gasped, stopping in his tracks and rushing to the window of a toy store. Massive teddy bears dominated the display, but Oikawa’s eyes were fixed on a small pink and white cow. 

“You like cows?” asked Sugawara, smiling. Oikawa’s excitement was kind of endearing.

“Not just any cow!” Oikawa said enthusiastically. “Look! Strawberry cow!” He pointed at the display. 

Sugawara chucked. “It is very cute. But I’ll admit, I didn’t pin you as a stuffed animal guy.”

Oikawa blushed, his excitement quickly fizzling into embarrassment. “I mean- I don’t. It’s... I’m not. It’s just a cute cow.” 

Sugawara blinked. Flustered Oikawa was new to him. Even more endearing. 

“Hey, hey- I’m kidding! I’m teasing you,” Sugawara touched his arm lightly before turning to walk again, smiling over his shoulder at Oikawa. “C'mon! I’m sure they both miss us dearly.”

Oikawa rubbed the back of his neck, which felt awfully itchy all the sudden. He spent years polishing a cool exterior, but just blew it in front of the guy he liked. Figures.

“Whatever,” he pouted to himself. “Only a heartless monster wouldn't think that cow was cute.” 

______________________________

They walked back to the store, which somehow had enough knick knacks that their friends were still happily sifting through. 

“Find something?” Oikawa asked Hanamaki. 

“Not really... I think I’m just going to make him cookies,” Hanamaki said. “But this notebook uses invisible ink, which I think will be a good secondary gift. We can use it to talk shit about you.” 

Oikawa made a face. “Wow. I’m so glad we spent all this time for you to realize you just wanted to bake something."

“Shut up, I know you had fun,” Hanamaki teased. Oikawa’s ears burned pink. 

“Daichi! Any luck?” Sugawara shouted into the store.

Daichi’s head popped out from behind a bookcase. 

“No, not really. Nothing seems.. Cute enough.” He looked to Hanamaki, who nodded in agreement.

“Girls like cute things. I would know,”  said Hanamaki, knowingly.

“You would not know, actually,” Oikawa reminded him. 

Sugawara gasped. “Give me a sec, I’ll be right back!” With that, he sprinted out of the store. 

Daichi made his way back towards the entrance, where Oikawa and Hanamaki were now standing. 

“Any idea where he’s going?” asked Daichi.

“Not a one,” said Oikawa.

In less than five minutes, Sugawara stood panting with a shopping bag. Oikawa’s eyes widened at the bag. “Did you go back and get…” he trailed off.

Sugawara beamed, and pulled a strawberry cow out of the bag. “Look, Dai-san, isn’t it cute! She’ll love it. You can just pay me back later.” 

Daichi took the plush cow in his hands. “This is….” he held it close to his face, scrutinizing it with furrowed brows. The shiny dark eyes of the cow glimmered back at him. “This. Is adorable,” he said reverently.

“Right?!” said Oikawa, gesturing widely. 

“Yo, we have to get back soon,” Hanamaki said with a nudge. “Yahaba wants us to come to yoga tonight.” 

Daichi raised an eyebrow. “Yoga?”

Oikawa sighed and carded a hand through his hair. “It's for team bonding, and it improves flexibility I guess. I don’t know, most of the team falls asleep halfway through.” 

Daichi hummed at this, nodding his understanding. He had taught Hinata and Kageyama some breathing exercises for when they were feeling too excited (Hinata) or angry (Kageyama). This resulted in the two falling asleep for a whole afternoon in the corner of the gym, their heads flopped into each others shoulder's like little kids.

Daichi figured this outcome was good enough, if it got them to rest some. And Tsukishima thought it was a great result. He still had the photo he took of the two boys snoring together: just in case he ever needed leverage, but also to commemorate the most serenely uninterrupted practice of his life. 

“Well, we’ll see you around! Thanks for the advice, Hanamaki!” Daichi waved before turning the opposite direction, the little cow tucked carefully under his arm.

“Bye! Good luck with the girl!” said Oikawa before flashing a smile at Sugawara, who hadn’t moved yet. 

Oikawa and Hanamaki began walking towards the parking lot. 

“O-Oikawa!” 

He turned back around. Sugawara was still standing there, staring at him. 

“I’ll meet you at the car~” Hanamaki winked and scooted away from Oikawa before he could land a punch. 

Oikawa jogged back. “What’s up?”

“They uh. It was a sale, and..” Sugawara clutched the bag, before slowly parting the handles and reaching in. 

He pulled out another strawberry cow, and held it towards Oikawa. 

Oikawa swallowed. Hard. 

“It’s for me?” he asked softly.

“...yeah.” Sugawara wouldn't look him in the eye. 

Though he could feel his heart racing in his throat, Oikawa smirked. “After you gave me shit for being ‘a stuffed animal guy’?” 

The color drained from Sugawara's face.

“I didn’t mean that!! Ahh, you don’t have to take it! I just- you seemed to like it, and it was a buy one get one half off kind of situation, and I just thought-”

Oikawa laughed. “Sugawara. I’m kidding! I’m teasing you.”

Sugawara stopped mid-explanation. 

“Oh. Oh! Okay, haha. Here, he’s all yours.” 

Oikawa took the cow in his hands. It was softer than he could have imagined, with those fluffy pink spots covering its back. 

He grinned.

______________________________

Sugawara felt odd. 

Even if he hadn’t been distracted, it would have been hard to focus on his current History lecture. The afternoon was lazily warm, this teacher had a particularly droning voice, and a quick glance around the classroom told him that more than half the class was more than half asleep. 

For the past week, his thoughts kept leading back to one thing. 

One person, to be more specific. 

Why, though?  Sugawara kept finding himself asking. Even after he promised to drop it. 

He ran through his interactions with the Seijoh captain on a scrupulous loop. Nothing stuck out in particular. Sugawara was surprised and a little bit flattered that Oikawa knew who he was that first time, even if the guy sounded weirdly threatening about it. Daichi’s reasoning didn’t fit about the Instagram thing, since they had only met outside of a matcha couple of times, and Oikawa was relatively subdued for all of them. 

Wait a second. 

He paused, and steepled his fingers in front of his lips.

Sugawara had always noticed him. He tried hard to make use of his time on the sideline by being especially observant of everyone and everything. 

Regardless, it was hard not to notice Oikawa. He had a demanding presence that drew everyone’s attention in like a magnet, just like at the mall. 

Every time Sugawara watched him, Oikawa was the same: confident, chatty, flirtatious. Sometimes a little bit childish, when he didn’t think anyone but Iwaizumi was watching. Teasing when he was in a fun mood, terrifying when he wasn’t. But other than when he concentrated during a time out, he always had something to say. 

Sugawara thought about the time at the library. He had glanced up once at Oikawa as he cleaned the paper cut. 

It was hard to reconcile the cocky captain Oikawa with that boy, silently staring through his glasses into space. 

Even his demeanor at the mall was hard to analyze. Sugawara hadn’t expected him to get so flustered. To be fair, Sugawara hadn't expected himself to get so flustered, either. And— why did Oikawa turn that girl down? She was pretty: her long fringed bangs fell into her face, her manner and outfit so perfect she could have been a model. They would make for a stunning couple. 

But why did Sugawara even care? 

He frowned and picked up a pen. Why can’t I let this go?  Something inside him kept pulling his curiosity back around it again and again, tethering the questions to the forefront of his mind. He wasn’t even sure why he got the second cow for Oikawa. It just felt right to do, after seeing him so genuinely excited. 

He bit the end of his pen as he thought. Someone behind him snorted in their sleep. 

What about Nishinoya’s explanation? But they had never even played a match against each other. Sugawara felt a dull twist at his center. Why would he be inspired by my setting? He felt that twist tighten as he compared his abilities to Oikawa’s. If anything it should be the other way around. 

Sugawara rested his chin in his hand. 

He thought about Oikawa, jumping up to spike.

About the way his hair was always styled just so, even in the middle of a match. 

His mismatched kneepads. 

His incredible knack for bringing out the best in his teammates.

That infuriating smirk when he knew he had his opponent figured out. 

His eyes narrowing when he was deadly calm. 

His whole body suspended midair, impossibly high off the ground, coiling up for a serve. 

His pout. His tongue sticking out as he teased his teammates. 

Those eyelashes, long and thick behind his glasses. 

The bright blue shirt he was wearing at the library.

His soft, colorful laugh as he held the strawberry cow. 

His smile when he was showing off. 

His smile when he wasn’t. 

His hand held within Sugwara’s grasp.

His face inches away, with those dark brown eyes gazing into Sugawara's own. 

His lips, so close but entirely too far. 

Him leaning in, eyes low lidded, and… 

Sugawara dropped his pen.

It landed with a damning clatter on the desk.

Oh, he thought softly. 

Chapter Text

Oikawa groaned as he pushed along the length of his leg, stretching out his hamstring. He breathed out, leaned further into the ground. The muscle whined its retort.

A long stretch for an even longer day. 

Closing his eyes, he reminded himself that things could be much worse. 

A delicate balance had formed between Kyoutani and the rest of the team, one that grew more secure with each passing day. Oikawa even caught him having fun on multiple occasions, and not from threatening to beat somebody up. Though, each time Kyoutani did threaten to beat Oikawa up for 'smiling like a fucking idiot about it.'

His first years were getting confident and growing in their skills. And the training with Hanamaki was going well: their tradeoffs were crisper, cleaner. More lethal. 

Still. It was days like today, crammed full of practice and exams and meetings and school and practice and work and yet more practice… Such days served as  reminders that Oikawa wasn’t immortal. 

How did Kageyama do it? Did he have an extra set of hours, tucked into the folds of his days? Oikawa switched legs and leaned over again. 

No, Kageyama was a genius and he wasn’t. It was that simple. 

Oikawa wasn’t depreciative about it; he knew he had talent. He was the starting setter. The captain. For Aoba Josai, no less. Despite all their jokes, his teammates still looked to him for direction. Volleyball supercharged him with confidence on the court: looking someone dead in the eye before sending a service ace one hair’s width away from their head. 

Oikawa wasn’t a quitter. He refused to get mired in complacency. 

But there was only so much hard work he could stack against his own shoulders before it threatened to snap his spine in half.

He straightened out of the stretch to pull a water bottle from his bag. 

Kindaichi came and sat next to him on the gym floor. Practice was over, but Oikawa planned to practice serves for a couple hours. “Hey, Oikawa,” said Kindaichi, propping his back up against the wooden gym wall. Somehow sweating only made the hair stand up straighter on his head.

Oikawa smiled. Only Iwaizumi would have known he was faking it, but he was busy giving Kunumi an earful for missing practice (again). 

Kindaichi went on. “What are you doing, like…” he looked down at his phone to check something. “Three weekends from now?”

Oikawa raised an eyebrow, curious now. “If we don’t have any matches, then probably nothing yet. I try not to plan my dates too far in advance,” he winked and took a swig from his water bottle. 

Kindaichi looked like he had swallowed a bug. 

“Gross- no. Listen. There’s some weekend training camp being hosted at my cousin’s school. An intensive clinic for setters. I forget who offered to run it this year, someone big-” he scrolled further down. “Oh! Hibarida. That olympic coach. Apparently he does these open camps for specific positions sometimes. Helps with scouting I guess.” 

“It’s an open camp?” asked Oikawa, the playfulness dropped entirely from his voice as he turned to his teammate in earnest. 

Kindaichi stretched his arms above his head. “Yeah, if you register before they reach their cap. It's an overnight, looks like.” He brought his arms down. A shadow came across his face. “I bet Tobio’ll be there.” 

Oikawa considered this as he flicked the lid of his water bottle open, then shut. Open, shut. Open, shut. The chance to train under an olympic coach far outweighed his reluctance to spend any unnecessary time playing nice with Karasuno’s star setter.

His shoulders could hold a little more hard work, right...? 

He thought about Kageyama getting showered with praise, getting scouted as a first year, pushing past those already astronomical limits to something further, something unseen. 

Oikawa flipped the lid shut with finality. 

“Kin-kun, you’re the best. Could you text me the registration link if you have it?”

Kindaichi smiled at the praise. “Sure thing.” 

Something caught Oikawa’s attention as he watched Kindaichi find the link. “Hey, your knee. What happened?”

Kindaichi set his phone down as he looked down at his leg. “Oh- I just got sideswiped by the ball cart, a second ago. It's no big deal.” A thin red line had formed just above his left knee, where the metal had scraped it. 

Oikawa rummaged through his bag. He tossed a small box to Kindaichi before getting up with a grunt. 

“Here. I’ve gotta get back to serves, just throw it back in my bag when you’re done.” 

Caught off guard, Kindaichi fumbled the box a little. He looked down as his captain walked away. 

Kindaichi’s lips parted with surprise. 

He stared at the first aid kit in his hands. 

______________________________

“What do you think of Oikawa?” 

Daichi looked up from his textbook. 

The third years liked eating their lunch in Takeda-Sensei’s classroom, which was always empty during this time. Sometimes their sheepish advisor would join and chat. But most days he was too busy grading assignments (or pestering other coaches for more matches on the phone).

Such was the case today. 

Sugawara was leaning back in his chair, looking up into the sun soaked afternoon with his shoulders rested on the windowsill. After asking his question, he threw a grape in the air and gracefully caught it in his mouth with a satisfying pop.  

Across the desks lay various sheets of looseleaf paper, crisscrossed with arrows and circles and notes scribbled in the margins. They had spent the better half of lunch planning out a new attack for Kageyama and Asahi. 

Daichi frowned disapprovingly. “Takeda-sensei would scold you for throwing food in his classroom.”

“We both know he wouldn’t,” Sugawara quipped back without hesitation. “Plus I caught it, like I always do. Right Asahi?”

Asahi flinched slightly in his seat. He didn’t like being put in the middle of his friends’ disagreements, lighthearted or not. 

“Don’t drag Asahi into it,” Daichi frowned further. “What do I think of Oikawa.. What, like as a person?”

“Yeah.”

His frown shifted from disapproval to confusion. “Why?”

Sugawara sat up and popped another grape into his mouth, this time without the artful toss. 

He took his time chewing it. 

“I dunno. It’s hard to get a read on him,” said Sugawara finally, shrugging. 

He hoped the inquiry sounded innocent. Ever since his classroom daydream, Sugawara’s heart was a forest of feelings he had no idea how to navigate. He needed some input. But liking Oikawa was a little too daunting to admit so plainly to his friends. 

“He smiles a lot,” Asahi offered. “But not always in a nice way. And he’s so self-assured, I kind of want to punch that smile off his face sometimes.”

Daichi and Sugawara stared at him, eyes round with shock. 

He tugged at a piece of hair behind his ear. “W-what!” 

They both broke into laughter: Daichi’s laugh low and rumbling, Sugawara’s soft and bright. 

“What!” cried Asahi again, his cheeks stained red. 

Sugawara wiped at one of his eyes. “Man, I never thought I’d see the day when somebody made Asahi crave random violence.” 

Asahi only got redder. “I said only kind of, and only sometimes!” he protested. 

Daichi finally caught his breath as he closed his textbook. 

“I mean, he’s not wrong. Oikawa’s pretty cocky. But like... understandably so. That setting is something else,” he said as his eyes roamed over the papers between them.

Sugawara hummed, leaning back to his original spot. He watched the sun shift through the tree outside the window as it warmed his cheeks. 

“It’s pretty night and day, how differently he acts around his fanclub,” said Asahi. 

Right. Sugawara had forgotten, and felt stupid for doing so. Oikawa had a hoarde of devoted fans that cheered wildly for him at every game. He would stop and chat with them when he could, radiating charisma with that annoyingly gorgeous smile. People fell in love with him every day, probably. Making him chocolates, giving him love letters. Flirting with him. Asking for his number. 

Sugawara thought of the pretty girl at the mall again. Something heavy pressed on the inside of his ribs. He shifted in his seat. 

“Remember after our first match, that girl threw flowers down at him?” asked Daichi, chuckling again. 

Asahi laughed too. “Yes! And then he put one in their vice captain’s hair.” 

Sugawara smiled faintly in spite of himself. He was sure someone would need to mop Oikawa’s remains off the floor,  what with the way Iwaizumi chased him with murder in his eyes and a daisy in his hair. 

The three were silent for a couple minutes, lost in their own thoughts. 

“He is hot, though,” Asahi said, right as Sugawara tossed another grape above his head. 

Daichi choked. 

The grape hit Sugawara square between the eyes. 

______________________________

Daichi was running late. 

He never ran late, on principle. But his meeting with Coach Ukai went longer than he expected. And he insisted on waiting with Hinata until someone picked up the first year and his flat-tired bike.

His mom had asked last night, arms full of groceries and a phone tucked in the crook of her shoulder. 

“Dai, baby, would you mind taking the quartet tomorrow night? At seven thirty? Ah, sorry Mr. Takahashi, I was talking to my son,” she said into the phone as she set the groceries down on the kitchen counter.

Daichi immediately went to help, pulling a juice carton of juice out of one of the bags. ‘The Quartet’ was their nickname for his younger siblings: two brothers, two sisters. All under the age of eleven. The name was apt, considering how well they worked together to create chaos.

He knew raising five kids alone was a lot. His mom worked endlessly to make sure they were all well-fed and well-loved. 

Honestly, she was the best captain Daichi knew. 

“Sure, I can take them. It’s the Lil Tykes place, right?” 

She nodded as she started to chop onions for dinner. Daichi waved his hand to shoo her away and take over the task. Thank you, she mouthed wordlessly before continuing her conversation on the phone.

But now he was running late. 

“Dai, practice started five minutes ago!” whined Haru, the littlest. Her cheeks were still soft with baby fat, legs kicking anxiously in the backseat of the car. She had insisted on tying her sparkly blue sneakers herself. 

He took a level breath. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, guys.” 

“And you didn’t even bring Suga-san with you today,” Ren muttered. She had Daichi’s eyes exactly: dark and level. Daichi had done the best he could with braiding her hair, but he still couldn’t replicate the tidy braids his mother did every day for her. Small wisps of brown were falling into her face. 

He chuckled, his eyes still on the road. 

“I know he’s your favorite but Suga can’t come play all the time,” he tried to reason. Ren huffed and folded her arms.

His brothers, Kenji and Kai, were busy arguing over something on the Gameboy held between them.

Kai was the closest in age to Daichi, and the only one with light hair like their father’s. 

Kenji had at least three bandaids on his face from whatever crazy stunts he had pulled on the playground that week. He was the most rambunctious member of the quartet, despite being the second youngest. 

“And look, we’re here!” exclaimed Daichi as he parked the car. He opened the back door to let the four kids spill into the parking lot outside the gym. “Everybody out! Don’t forget your waters. Oh and Haru, mom packed you a snack in your bag. I’ll be in the stands if you guys need anything.” 

Kenji giggled. “He’s using The Captain Voice,” he whispered to his brother, who didn’t respond but bit back a grin.

“I wonder what we’re doing today!” said Haru as she skipped towards the gym doors. Daichi smiled, thinking about how similar she was to Hinata with that same sunny excitement for volleyball. 

“Probably setting again. It’s Oikawa-sensei’s week,” answered Kai. 

Daichi turned sharply, his hand on the door. 

“Oikawa?”

Kai tilted his head at his older brother. He’ll be taller than me in a couple years, Daichi realized with a pang. 

“Yeah. One of our coaches.”

“I like him! He’s fun!” Kenji said enthusiastically. “He lets me hit the ball as hard as I want. He says I can hit it 'til it breaks!” 

Daichi swallowed. It might be a different Oikawa. But hit it 'til it breaks felt pretty on-brand for the Oikawa he knew. He wasn't sure how he felt about the Seijoh captain as an instructor for his siblings. They didn’t need to get any more encouragement for their hijinx. 

“Dai, open the door! We’re gonna be even more late!” Ren whined as she tugged on one of her braids. 

Daichi snapped out of his thoughts as he realized all his siblings were looking up at him, waiting. 

He opened the door. 

 ______________________________

A gym full of people is a raucous creature. Yelling, running, bumping into each other, whistles staccatoed over coaches shouting instructions. 

A gym full of children is an entirely different beast. Daichi was almost thrust backward by the sheer force of sound as he walked inside. 

Three courts were set up for practice, with small groups of different age ranges stationed all around the gym. Coaches and assistants wore cheerful yellow tshirts. The place was alive with movement, each station focusing on a different technical skill. 

“Remember, no lacing your fingers together! They’ll break in half like little twigs!” someone on the far left court was instructing, followed by shrieks and squeals of laughter. 

Daichi knew that voice. He looked towards its source. 

Oikawa was walking around a circle of kids, tossing a ball down onto their passing stances. He corrected any mistakes as he went: turning their forearms out a little more, curling their thumbs in, adjusting their elbows before dropping the ball and letting them pass it back to him. 

Daichi stared, feeling uncomfortably like he he had invaded something private. Oikawa was smiling and laughing with the kids. It was clear that they adored him. Any little bits of advice he gave were instantly put into effect, and they went into a fit of giggles at his jokes.

But what really made this feel like a private moment was Oikawa himself. It was even clearer that he adored them right back. 

Oikawa never smiled like that. Never on the court, at least. Maybe… maybe that time at the restaurant, with the captains? Maybe once at the mall? But what was the connection there? 

Daichi didn’t have time to consider any further. Oikawa looked up and locked eyes with him. 

“Oh! Daichi!” he called over the din, waving cheerfully. Twelve tiny faces turned to face Daichi and his siblings, who dropped their bags and ran towards their respective groups. 

Oikawa motioned to another girl in a bright yellow t-shirt, who took his place in the circle. He jogged over to Daichi. 

“Hey, what a surprise! They're your siblings? I should have known, they look exactly like you,” he grinned. It wasn’t the same smile as before in the circle, but it was still open and genuine. 

Daichi laughed awkwardly as he scratched the back of his head. This is weird. This is so weird. 

“They do, don’t they? Sorry they’re late. My mom usually takes them- I didn’t know you coached,” he rambled, unable to string his thoughts together sensibly.

Luckily, Oikawa didn’t seem to mind.  “Oh, no worries. And yeah! Gotta afford my lavish lifestyle somehow,” he responded, striking a pose. 

Daichi knew that wasn’t why. He had just seen Oikawa’s coaching, seen him genuinely enjoying this job. But maybe it really was a private moment, a special thing that Oikawa wanted to deflect with his usual flamboyant attitude. 

Then how much else was Oikawa deflecting like this? 

Daichi shifted his stance. That line of questioning felt far too personal to even wonder about the boy standing in front of him. 

“I hope they don’t give you too much trouble,” said Daichi, switching the subject. He nodded towards Kenji, who had already stuffed a ball underneath his shirt and started chasing another little boy, both of them giggling furiously. 

Oikawa glanced over his shoulder. There it was again: a fond look that felt eerily familiar. But for the life of him, Daichi couldn’t place it.

“Nah,” Oikawa said as he looked back to Daichi. “They’re all great. Real hardworking, I’m sure they get that from you,” he winked. “Even Kenji, when I can get him to see it as a competition.”

This is SO WEIRD. Daichi just stared at him. Oikawa- flippant, cocky Oikawa - had already figured out how to handle his siblings. And they had all just talked about him during lunch the other day, too. 

Daichi’s eyes flicked over him. Oikawa had casually folded his arms, holding his elbows in his hands as he leaned to one side.

The hair flipped perfectly out of his face, the pretty slope of his nose. Asahi was right. 

“Oh wait! It’s actually great you’re here, cause now I can just ask you,” Oikawa went on, wrenching Daichi back into the present moment. “You guys are doing the setter clinic, right? With Hibarida?”

Kageyama had brought it up before practice a week ago, his eyes gleaming with intent. 

“Yeah, Kageyama said he would.” 

Oikawa looked at something behind Daichi, nodding absently. For once his face was unreadable. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, closed it, then opened it again.

“What about Sugawara?” He still wasn’t looking directly at Daichi. 

The whole situation had already thrown Daichi so off balance, he didn’t even register Oikawa's demeanor. Maybe if he did, he would have seen the pink that had settled on Oikawa’s ears. 

“Oh, right, he said he’d try to go but his sister might be in town. I think he signed up already in case, though,” Daichi replied. 

Oikawa grinned wide. “Cool.” 

“OIKAWA-SENSEI!!” a small voice shouted. Oikawa and Daichi both turned in its direction. 

Haru was plopped on the ground near Oikawa’s original group. Her face was round with sadness. A sparkly shoelace trailed on the floor. 

“I wanna learn receives like Dai does! Please come tie my shoe!!!” she pleaded. 

Oikawa chucked and gave Daichi a small salute as he started to walk away. “Well, duty calls! See you later...” he said, giggling as he added, “...Dai!” 

Daichi blinked. 

He tried to form a reaction, any reaction, but Oikawa had already been enveloped in excitedly bobbing toddlers once again.

Chapter Text

Oikawa got to camp early. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, keeping the summer air cool and damp. A few people milled around the courtyard outside the facility. 

He felt like a kid before a sleepover. The restless excitement had seeped in a couple days ago. To train under a coach of the Olympic team! And he'd get the chance to watch so many different teams' setters, catalogue their skills. Especially Kageyama.

A small thrum in the back of his mind reminded him Kageyama might not be the only setter coming from Karasuno.

He practically floated to the check-in stand. 

“Just sign this form right there! And I’ll need to see your ID too, then you’re all good to go when they start up soon,” said a friendly lady at the table as she handed him a pen and pointed to a clipboard.

Oikawa scribbled out a signature and showed his ID. She marked something on her list then gave him a bright smile and a schedule. “You’re in room twelve tonight. Dinner is at seven in the main cafeteria. If you have any questions just ask the trainers, they’ll be in the navy polo shirts. Have fun!” 

Oikawa thanked her before turning away. He crossed the courtyard, skimming the itinerary for the weekend. 

“Oikawa-san.” 

Oikawa looked up. Akaashi was sitting on a bench, his duffle bag in his lap with his hands clasped over it. He had on a large, faded gym shirt with the word ACE blocked out across the front. Oikawa was happy to see somebody he knew, and had been looking forward to watching Akaashi play again. 

“Hi, Akaashi!” He grinned and set his bag down before plopping down on the bench. “I didn’t expect to see you all the way out here again.” 

“It really is a far way from Tokyo... But this wasn’t an opportunity I could pass up. Bokuto’s been training really hard lately and I want to keep pace.” Akaashi fiddled with his fingers, gazing intently at them as he locked one hand around the other wrist. 

Oikawa chucked. “He really is something, isn’t he?” 

But he didn’t get the chance to hear Akaashi’s response to this. 

“Oh! You guys are here, too!” a familiar voice called. 

Oikawa turned to look through the small crowd that had started to form under the yawning sun. The colorful mix of team uniforms and athletic clothes kept shifting: a kaleidoscope of boys from all over the prefecture and beyond. 

He saw a hand waving, and- 

“Hey Oikawa!” Sugawara called from his place in the line. That infamous tuft of hair bounced in the air as he waved, a can of coffee gripped firm in his other hand.

Only upon seeing him did Oikawa realize just how deeply he was hoping to do so.

“Oh hey, you made it!” he called back. God, I hope that was nonchalant enough. 

Akaashi smiled when Sugawara waved to him as well. 

“I like whenever Sugawara-san is around. He’s reliable, but very interesting,” he confided to Oikawa as Sugawara finished signing papers and jogged over to them. 

“This is so cool! ” Sugawara beamed, sunshine itself.  “I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. And you guys are here too! I can’t wait to kick your asses!” His nose scrunched up as he pumped his fists excitedly. 

Sugawara’s eyes met Oikawa’s before he quickly looked away. He could feel the heat creeping up his face. Oikawa looked treacherously good in a baseball cap, the fine tufts of his hair curling up from beneath it. 

He had seen the Seijoh setter many times before. He had watched diligently: each serve, each set, each play, each taunt. Sugawara had cataloged Oikawa in his mind, neatly filing the information in case it could prove useful. 

Oikawa favors sets to his left when he has the choice. Oikawa has a service ace streak of 14 points. Oikawa finds and targets weak receivers with both his spikes and his serves. Oikawa will pass to Iwaizumi if he’s feeling cornered. 

But now, he was noticing different things. Things that felt less analyzing an opponent. Knowing things like Oikawa has a fat white cat named Jeepers that he posts pictures of all the time wouldn’t help Karasuno win a game. Knowing Oikawa cocks his head to the right when he’s thinking hard about something didn’t give Sugawara any kind of competitive edge against the other setter. 

Sugawara still found himself tucking each of these new observations safely away, like pretty smooth stones to admire in his palm. 

He took a huge gulp of his coffee to level himself before looking around. 

“Oh, and Kenma! Hi!” he addressed a boy next to Akaashi that Oikawa hadn’t noticed before. Streaky blonde hair fell out of his hoodie. He seemed preoccupied with something on his phone, but looked up sleepily. 

“Sup, Suga.” 

“Do you know anyone else that’ll be here?” Akaashi asked Sugawara. 

Sugawara set his bag on the pavement in front of them and flopped on top of it. 

“Hmm. I mean, I had figured you three would be here. Date Tech will probably send some guys. And Shiratorizawa.” 

Oikawa groaned to himself at the mention of the last school. Dickheads. At least that setter with the funny bangs wasn’t the worst. 

Speaking of the worst...

“Isn’t Tobio-chan coming?” he asked Sugawara. Usually Oikawa’s mood dropped about 20 levels whenever that trademark scowl was around. It served as a good Kageyama radar, one that hadn’t gone off yet this morning. 

Sugawara looked remorseful. “No- he was supposed to, but he got really sick yesterday. Almost fought our coach when he was told he wasn’t allowed to come.” 

“Shit,” Oikawa said in awe. Sure, he had intensely mixed feelings about Kageyama being here. But Oikawa couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit bad for him. In some house nearby there was a sick and furious Kageyama, stuck in a bed and banned from leaving it. 

Nothing else could be said on the matter. A man in a dark blue polo came out of the building and loudly announced that the boys could go in and set their stuff in their assigned rooms. 

“Be quick about it, though! Drills start in half an hour, and scrimmages start at noon!” 

______________________________

Sweat bled through the back of Oikawa’s shirt. 

He shifted his stance: knees bent, hands held ready in front of his crouch. An army could have charged the gym and he wouldn’t have noticed. His entire being was focused fully on the confines of the court. Nothing else mattered. 

Thwap!

Skin against leather, yellow and blue. A solid serve. 

“Got it!” the curly haired boy next to him screamed as he sprinted to the ball.

Oikawa rushed to the net, eyes darting between his teammates clad in bright yellow vests. 

“Oikawa!” the boy passed to him, the ball arcing neatly above his head. 

Time stretched out like elastic, save for the heartbeat in Oikawa’s ears. He took in the blockers’ position on the other side of the net, his strikers, all his possibilities as the ball sailed towards his outreached fingertips. An opening, he just needed the smallest opening-

His lips quirked. There.  

The ball hit the ground on the other side before anyone could register its leaving Oikawa’s hands. His striker fell from the jump, hitting the floor before racing over to Oikawa for a high five. The other team’s blockers turned their heads to the spot where the ball was rolling away from, mouths open and eyes wide. 

The referee blew his whistle, indicating the end of the match. Oikawa’s team had earned a clean win. 25-20. Both teams walked along the center line to shake hands under the net. 

“Oikawa! That was sick,” his teammate exclaimed as they walked off the court. “How’d you know that would work?” 

Oikawa pushed his bangs out of his face and shrugged. “Their number 8 reaches too wide for his blocks when he thinks a quick is coming. And you’re real good at spiking the ball right up at the net, so I figured we’d rush him before he could close his hands in time.” 

The morning had been spent in assessment drills. Camp trainers passed through, paused occasionally to write notes on the boys’ skill levels. Oikawa kept his giddiness neatly squared away as Hibarida had introduced himself to the players and paced between courts, offering encouragement and pointers as he went. 

They had a break after drills to grab water and stretch, which gave the trainers time to place them into balanced teams. Twelve teams, six boys each, three matches per team with a break between each match. 

Oikawa jogged to his bag and grabbed a towel out of it. He dragged it along his forehead gratefully. The court he had just played on was already filled with two new teams, twelve new boys diving for the ball and yelling to their teammates. 

Today’s scrimmage games weren’t ranked. But Hibarida had told the players to put their time to good use regardless. Not that they needed to be told; everyone was clearly fired up from his presence. 

Oikawa drank the rest of his water in one long drag. He gasped for air, his heart still settling from the adrenaline.

“Hey, do you know where the water fountains are?” he asked the curly haired boy from his team. 

“Yeah! They're just through those other doors,” the boy pointed to the opposite side of the gym. 

Oikawa smiled and thanked him. He snatched his water bottle and started walking in that direction, careful to stay clear of the ongoing games.

“Left, LEFT!” someone screamed from the nearest court. 

Oikawa looked over. 

A wiry-looking boy with dark, thick eyebrows was running towards the net. Why is he running like that? He’s not giving himself enough room to-

The following flash of silver caught Oikawa’s eye. Sugawara sprinted to the net, reached up, and set the ball to a different teammate. It was a pretty set: nothing fancy but perfectly timed, right to a different spiker's open palm. Eyebrows scowled, and scowled even harder when the spike hit the boundary line. 

“Game!” called the ref, blowing his whistle. 

“Sorry, man, I know you called for it,” Oikawa could hear Sugawara apologizing to Eyebrows. 

Eyebrows just shoved past him. “Whatever.” 

Oikawa frowned. It wasn’t Sugawara’s fault they lost the point. Eyebrows clearly wasn’t in position, he would have gotten stuffed immediately.  

“Oikawa-kun!” came a deep voice from behind. Oikawa turned around. 

Coach Hibarida was striding towards him, a whistle around his neck and a clipboard in his large palm. 

Oikawa clenched his bottle to counter the spike in his heart rate.

“Sir,” he bowed slightly. 

“I just wanted to catch you before the next match I have to observe,” Hibarida gestured widely at the gym with his clipboard. With both his personality and his stature, the man took up a lot of space. 

Oikawa nodded silently, unsure where this was going and too starstruck to form a response. 

“You’ve got good game sense, kid.” Hibarida smiled, his eyes crinkling softly at the corners. “That last set was a split second assessment, and it really paid off. I’ve watched a couple of your games, too. You really run a fine-tuned machine with those teammates of yours. With your vice captain, especially.” He chuckled, and muttered something under his breath. 

Oikawa couldn’t make it out over the din of the three surrounding games, but it sounded like ‘calling something something a self-righteous little something.’

“Anyways! I just wanted to tell you we've got our eye on you, and that you should be proud of all your hard work.” 

Oikawa fiddled with the top to his water bottle, dazed into speechlessness. This was far from Coach Hibarida's usual “get your feet to the ball quicker, number 4!” and “hands up high, number 12! You want enough cushion for a good, controlled set!” 

Coach Hibarida knew his name?

He cleared his throat. “Thank you, sir. I’ve got a long way to go but I appreciate your praise, truly. It means a lot.” 

Coach Hibarida looked at him curiously as he scratched the side of his beard with his clipboard-free hand. 

“Even with a long way to go, don’t you think you should be proud of the long way you’ve come already?” he asked, his voice gentle. 

Oikawa waved his free hand apologetically. “No! Sorry, I worded that wrong. I am proud, sir. Especially of my team. I just meant I want to keep training to pass my opponents, and I know that’ll take a lot of hard work on my part. Because I’m not like a genius at volleyball, haha…” he trailed off awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. 

He had meant for that last part to be a joke to ease the tension. But maybe it came off a little too honest. 

Hibarida was silent for a moment as he assessed the boy in front of him. 

Oikawa felt like an insect under a lens. 

“Y’know,” Hibarida began, looking up through one of the windows. “I’ve met hundreds of players, Oikawa. All different ranges of talent, all different ages, backgrounds, skills, levels of motivation. I’ve met geniuses, kids born with the sport baked right into their bones. Normally I say that I look for players that are big and strong. But that isn’t exactly true.” 

He rested both hands on the clipboard as he continued. “I respect geniuses, sure. But I’m much more interested in players that pull that talent out themselves, that sweat and scrape and fight for it. I think that’s the most admirable player, the one that looks a genius square in the face and says ‘so what?’” his laughter rumbled for a moment before he returned his gaze to Oikawa. “What I’m trying to say is, you don’t have to be a genius to be proud of yourself.” 

Oikawa stood in place, staring. Silent. 

A whistle blew, and Hibarida turned to one of the courts. “Ah! Sorry, I have to get to the next match.” He put up a hand to wave. “It was nice to talk with you, Oikawa-kun. Keep it up.”

And with that he was gone.

Oikawa just stood there, the water bottle slack at his side. 

______________________________

He was walking back to the gym when he heard them. 

At first, Oikawa didn’t register their words. He was starting to tire from the camp’s activities, and was struggling to process Coach Hibarida’s words. 

So he was already several feet away from the bathroom, trying to screw the top of his water bottle back on, when he finally caught a snippet of their conversation. 

“...that Sugawara guy, I mean really? ” 

Oikawa froze in his tracks.

Laughter tumbled out through the bathroom door.

"God, I wonder why he’s even here?” someone was saying. 

“Right? Why would Karasuno send him, everybody knows Kageyama is worlds better. Even as a first year. How embarrasing,” another voice agreed. 

A thin ringing had taken over Oikawa’s eardrums, but he still heard yet another voice chime in.

“He’s not even that good. He lost us our match earlier. I don’t get why he doesn’t just quit, they never put him in anyw-” 

SLAM. 

Oikawa stood at the door, his hand firm against it. 

He looked up at the three boys, their eyes round with shock. 

Oikawa gritted his teeth. “What the fuck,” he snarled in a very un-Oikawa voice, “gives you the right to shit talk Sugawara like that?” 

Two of the boys flinched back, but one stood his ground. Oikawa recognized him. Those eyebrows were unmistakably thick.

Eyebrows frowned his defiance, placed his hands on his hips. “He lost us that game. He could have passed to me but he’s too dumb to even know who to set t-”

Oikawa laughed: cold, humorless. He had at least four inches on the other boy and used this to his full advantage as he cut the distance between them. Eyebrows balked slightly but stood his ground. 

“Are you kidding?” snapped Oikawa. “You would have run into the fucking net by the time you jumped, what with that entry. And you had two blockers on you. Sugawara saw that and picked the better option.” 

Eyebrows glowered. He apparently didn’t appreciate this feedback on his playing. “So? We didn’t even get the point.” 

His two friends proved themselves smarter than him, taking a step backwards from Oikawa and remaining silent. 

Oikawa’s eyes glinted dangerously as they narrowed. 

“But if it weren’t for Sugawara,” he countered, poking the boy in the center of his chest, “the ball wouldn’t have even cleared the goddamn NET!” 

The boy clicked his tongue, unable to come up with a response to that. 

“Are all three of you fucking blind?” Oikawa asked. He could feel the anger burning at his insides. 

How dare they insult Sugawara like that. Insulting Sugawara when he was a really good player, when he swallowed his own pride for the sake of his team. 

Oikawa folded his arms. “Have you even watched him play before?” His mind flashed back to that old clip, the frame frozen on Sugawara’s savagely triumphant face. “He’s fucking indomitable. He matches anything you throw at him. You, Eyebrows.” He nodded towards the boy in front of him. “How far did your team get last year? I don’t remember seeing you at prelims. Or the qualifiers.” 

Eyebrows’ jaw twitched, either at the nickname or at the question. Oikawa didn’t know or care. 

“...We.. got one round in. To prelims,” Eyebrows muttered. He didn’t meet Oikawa’s eyes anymore. 

Oikawa laughed coldly again before straightening to his full height. His glare crackled with anger as he looked at the three boys.

“Well. A word of advice? Maybe don’t worry so much about another team or its players when you can’t even make the fucking cut. Leave Sugawara alone,” he spat before turning on his heel and walking out the door. 

He made his way back to the gym, the boys' mutters shuffling behind him. 

He was too far away to hear someone in the furthest stall release a shaky breath as they tucked a grey fringe of hair behind their ear. 

______________________________

Oikawa’s blood was still broiling by the time his next match began.

He looked up through the net at their next opponent. A wicked grin curled across his lips. 

“Oh, this is too good,” he said to himself. 

His team got the first serve. Fate was smiling upon him, egging him on. 

And who was he to say no to fate when it dropped such a beautiful present right into his own two hands? 

Oikawa walked to the wall of the gym. Turned around. Smirked, pointed with the ball in his hand across the court.

Tossed it up high, ran through its arc, and-

“UGHF,” Eyebrows sputtered. The ball had hit him square in the chest, full force. 

It was a deadly serve, aimed perfectly so he couldn’t receive it underhand or overhand. He fell to his knees and clutched at his chest, opening and closing his mouth like a fish as he stared at Oikawa.

Oikawa tilted his head with the most apologetic grin.

“My bad,” he sang, shrugging his shoulders. 

The smile slid off his face, leaving only the uncanny glare in his eyes. 

“He did that on purpose, didn’t he?” Akaashi murmured to Sugawara. They were on their break, both sitting in the stands and snacking on power bars Akaashi had brought. 

When Sugawara didn’t answer, Akaashi glanced away from the court at his friend. He had noticed Sugawara seemed a little off since their last game. 

Sugawara was staring at Oikawa. 

“Suga...?”

Sugawara blinked at his nickname. Akaashi had never used it before. 

“That was…” said Sugawara slowly, his eyes still glued to Oikawa. “...the most attractive thing I've ever seen.” 

Akaashi’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly: an unbridled display of surprise for the stoic boy. He returned his attention to the court. 

“Huh,” murmured Akaashi amusedly to himself, drowned out by whistles and shouts from below.

Chapter Text

“Be my partner.”

Oikawa whipped around to find Sugawara already staring. He recognized that gleam in those dark brown eyes, set with determination. 

“Huh?” The demand had caught Oikawa off guard.

Sugawara gestured to the ball in Oikawa’s hands.

“For this drill. Be my partner, please.” 

Oikawa hoped his blush could be misattributed to the previous drill they had just endured. “Oh! Sure thing. Let's find go find a spot to sit.” 

They wove through a maze of boys, legs crossed and already starting their passes.

“This one is all about control,” Coach Hibarida had instructed them as he paced across the gym floor. His voice rang out with a naturally assertiveness over the group, firm but still friendly. 

“Your footwork is key as a setter, but you have to sharpen your upper body coordination as well. Focus on both the receive and the set while you set to each other. I don’t want to see just clean sets either: alternate sides, heights, speeds. Throw some hard ones in- you won’t always be getting perfect passes from your teammates in a real game. Now go on, pair up!” 

They found a spot in the corner, near the wide gym doors. Sunlight slid through the screens covering the opening. Oikawa smiled softly as he sat down and folded his legs. He liked playing on sunny days the best. 

An easy rhythm developed in their drill: back, forth, back and forth. Oikawa tossed a quick set short of Sugawara, Sugawara overset to Oikawa. Sugawara set up high, Oikawa returned it low and to the left. 

“You adapt quickly,” Oikawa observed after fumbling a set and chasing after the ball.

How could those idiots trash Sugawara? So he wasn’t Kageyama, fine. But nobody was, other than Kageyama. That didn’t mean Sugawara couldn’t be a good player in his own right. And he was, Oikawa had seen it. Oikawa could see it here at this camp. 

Oikawa sat back down and sent another set.

The soft pattering of balls against fingertips was echoed a hundred fold, interspersed with other pairs’ conversations and the occasional instruction from the trainers walking around.

Sugawara shrugged and set the ball back. “I’m just familiar with your playing style.” 

“Oh?” asked Oikawa, very intrigued. He threw Sugawara a hard set with a left spin. 

Sugawara smiled and pushed the ball up easily, its arc graceful between them. 

“I mean, I get a lot of time to observe. Y’know.. Watching the games. I learn a lot of useful information that way. Keeps me in the game as much as I can be.” 

Affection surged through Oikawa so intensely that he was afraid it would spill out into his next pass to the silver haired boy.

Not only had Sugawara agreed to Kageyama being put in his starter position so his team could advance, but he was also determined to stay involved in the game. He refused to be complacent, too. Sugawara had given his spot as a regular, but not for a second had he given up. And Oikawa admired him all the more for it. 

Back, forth, back, forth. 

Oikawa finally responded. “So what's my playing style?” 

Sugawara tossed a set that forced Oikawa at an awkward angle, his elbows jutting out as he leaned over to meet it. 

“A lot less flashy than your demeanor would let it on to be. Which is honestly kinda scarier. You’re very solid and calculating, both about your opponent and your own team. It’s like watching someone play chess with their whole body.” 

Oikawa blinked in surprise, at the worst possible time. The ball hit his arms with a dull thwup before rolling back to Sugawara. 

Sugawara just chuckled and passed to him again.  

“I feel a bit too perceived right now,” Oikawa admitted as he set the ball back. 

“Oh? Should I perceive you less?” Sugawara teased. 

Oikawa rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. "Good luck. I’m kind of hard not to pay attention to. I mean, look at me.” He flicked his hair back with a graceful swoop of his hand.

Sugawara glanced around. All the trainers were busy helping other pairs. He brought the ball over his head and chucked it at Oikawa, who barely dodged it in time. 

“Hey!” Oikawa whined. “What was that for?”

Sugawara was wheezing from laughing so hard. He clutched at the front of his shirt. 

“Sorry, sorry! I didn't see you there!” Sugawara giggled like a little kid through that huge sunbeam grin. 

The breath hitched in Oikawa’s throat at the sight. 

This boy was going to be the death of him. 

______________________________

Akaashi liked to think himself observant. 

Most of the time it wasn’t even intentional. He just watched, picked up the clues that were practically thrown in his lap. Body language, intonation, facial expressions, eye contact. All he needed was right there. All he had to do was pay attention. 

So much time spent with his ace had helped him hone this skill to a razor sharp edge. Bokuto was a library of emotions: sometimes drowning Akaashi in all the information, other times sending him on a wild goose chase trying to find the right book. 

Akaashi would never brag about this skill. But he had allowed himself a quiet sort of pride in it. 

However, as he sat across from Oikawa and Sugawara during lunch, he was wondering if he deserved any pride in it whatsoever. 

The players had been allowed to eat outside in one of the school courtyards, where a welcome breeze shifted the foliage overhead. Akaashi looked up. Spots of the relentless sun still poked their way through, spotlighting the pavement and the dozens of boys sprawled out below. 

Akaashi lifted his sports drink to his lips as he let his gaze fall back towards the pair in front of him. He took a long sip as he watched silently. 

Now that he noticed, it was hard not to notice. How had he not seen it before? 

He was too busy chiding himself to catch the beginning of their conversation, both chatting amiably as they picked their way through their meal. 

Not that Akaashi needed to listen to the words. Sugawara was saying plenty without any words at all. 

The Karasuno vice captain laughed at something Oikawa said, poking his tongue out through his teeth. His shoulders shifted almost imperceptibly towards Oikawa. Akaashi set down his drink and picked up his sandwich. His eyes remained on his grey-haired friend.

Someone called to Oikawa, who twisted his position on the ground to turn and wave to them. Sugawara’s gaze remained on Oikawa. 

Akaashi looked away. It almost felt intrusive, reading Sugawara’s open face like that. His eyes shone with an undeniable honesty. 

The focus Akaashi put into picking the tomatoes out of his sandwich did not stop his mind from forming the analysis, though. Caring. Affection. God, so much longing. How long has Sugawara-san liked him? He hasn’t told anyone yet, I bet. Definitely not Bokuto-san, otherwise I would have known within five minutes. 

Akaashi sighed. 

His friend would tell him if and when he was ready. Akaashi liked to think himself approachable, but now he was putting all his attributes into question. Either way, he didn’t have any reason to disapprove of Sugawara's taste. Oikawa was objectively pretty. Akaashi didn’t know him well enough yet to fully read him, but he seemed alright underneath all those frilly trappings.

He watched Oikawa turn around and poke Sugawara’s shoulder as he continued their conversation. 

Satisfied with his tomato-free sandwich, Akaashi took a huge bite. Sugawara laughed again, but this time Akaashi was still watching Oikawa. 

Oh my god. Oh my GOD. 

“Akaashi! Hey, shit- are you alright!?” Sugawara was instantly behind him, a hand on his back. 

He gasped for air and slapped his chest to stop the coughing. 

“Y-eah,” he rasped. “Sorry, I just took too big of a bite.” 

Oikawa, eyebrows pinched, had already unscrewed the top to Akaashi’s drink and was holding it out towards him. Worry, concern. You’re a lot more kind than you’d like to let on, Oikawa-san. And a lot more obvious.  

Akaashi thanked him and gulped down the rest of his drink, his breath slowly leveling out. 

“I’m fine, guys. Thank you,” he assured them. 

They still looked hesitant as they sat back down and returned to their lunches. 

A bird sang out above the three boys’ heads. The sunlight shifted as wind ruffled through leaves and sweaty hair. 

Akaashi sighed again. Picked a rogue tomato out of the remainder of his sandwich.

Maybe he was too observant for his own good after all. 

______________________________

Sugawara sat outside the clinic. 

He could hear Kenma muttering behind the door, assuring the nurse that he really was okay. “There’s only like, an hour left anyways. I promise I feel fine now.” 

Various flyers for different clubs crowded the bulletin board on the other wall. He had finished his set reps and asked to come check on the small Nekoma setter. The nurse shooed him outside and told him to wait there. 

Bright, bold designs on colorful printer paper fought for his attention. ‘Join the Judo Club!’ one flyer demanded. Another one just had a picture of a guy mid-slam dunk. 

Sugawara leaned his head on the concrete wall. He thought back to himself in his first year, all nervous and new, walking down the hall as different upperclassmen tried to snag club members. None of them could tempt him- his heart was already fixed on the stars he saw shine in that fateful Nationals game. 

He smiled fondly at the memory of meeting Daichi and Asahi. How excited they all were to be there to play volleyball at Karasuno. Even when they found out there wasn’t a regular coach, they didn’t lose that dead set excitement, that ambition to reach for the heights their predecessors had climbed.

Sugawara’s sister had teased him for all the nights he came home late from their extra practices. She’d always ask who he was seeing in secret, who he had fallen in love with. I’ve fallen in love with volleyball, Sugawara would think to himself. 

He had. He truly had. Even now he loved it. 

His whole being burned with loving something that did not love him back. 

The words of his camp teammate in the bathroom came back unbidden. He bit his tongue. Don’t cry. Not yet. Just.. please not yet. 

Oikawa had defended him. Did Oikawa really think those things about him? That he was indomitable? Sugawara’s eyes roved over the flyers. So many sports, so many prodigies who excel at them, far many more regular guys who don’t. Guys who work hard and put everything in, only to find that everything still isn’t quite enough.

How many official games had Sugawara even played? He didn’t wish to count; knowing would only bring the tears closer to the brims of his eyes. At this point Kageyama had probably played more as Karasuno’s setter than he had. But still, the pure delirious happiness that ran through his every nerve when he was on that court, surrounded by his teammates… 

Sugawara snorted in bitter amusement at himself. He was addicted to that feeling, would do anything for the chance to get put in a game. Even for a minute. 

And yet here he was. Close to graduating high school, his time spent largely on the sidelines. 

He spotted a flyer towards the bottom of the board that had been partially obscured by its neighbors. 

‘LOVE VOLLEYBALL?’ it inquired, next to a picture of the cheerful Vabo-chan.

Sugawara looked away. 

Yes. But it’s so difficult to love. 

______________________________

Everything ached. 

Oikawa was used to extra training. He did it three times a week. Something stubborn and insatiable inside of him refused to be complacent: constantly pushed him to do more, be better, jump higher, set quicker. But it had been a while since Aoba Josai had participated in a full-day training camp. Especially one this intense. 

His fingers ached. His knees ached. The soles of his feet ached as he walked towards the showers with a towel slung over his tired shoulders. He could only manage a friendly nod to a damp-haired Akaashi, who passed by on his way back to the room. 

The spray of the shower was warm and welcome. He could feel all the sweat and grime falling off of him, pooling into the drain. The day filtered through his mind as he scrubbed shampoo into his hair. The memory of Coach Hibarida’s words rang clear over the falling water. 

You don’t have to be a genius to be proud of yourself. 

Oikawa took a deep breath and turned the faucet off. 

______________________________

Dinner was simple, but the day’s hard work made it delicious. The high walls of the cafeteria were bouncing with chatter. Tables of boys from all over the district swapped stories excitedly. It was interesting to be surrounded by all setters. Oikawa walked past several tables, smiling at some familiar faces, smirking at others.

He placed his tray across from Akaashi who was already eating quietly. Oikawa liked him the more he got to know him. He was level and perceptive, like Iwaizumi, but lacked Iwaizumi’s signature roughness. 

Kenma sat down shortly after. He had two ice creams alongside his meal. 

“Whoah!” Oikawa exclaimed. “They let you have two? No fair!” 

Kenma glanced up. “The lady said I needed more food to grow. But I think it was really because she saw me almost faint before lunch. I'm pretty sure her and the nurse are sisters.” He returned his attention to his food. 

“I don’t think ice cream helps you grow,” Sugawara said warmly as sat down next to Oikawa, who managed to hide his reaction with another bite of curry. “Otherwise I would be like... seven feet tall. I’m glad you’re feeling better, Kenma.”

Kenma hummed through his mouthful of ice cream. 

Oikawa laughed. “You don’t need to grow, Sugawara, you’re already a good height.” 

Sugawara’s fork paused half a moment at the compliment. He smiled, his eyes soft. “Thanks, haha. But my underclassmen still have me beat.” 

Akaashi nodded. “Tsukishima-san is ridiculously tall. He would probably do well at Date Tech, with that guy,” he gestured to a different table. A tall blonde boy was chatting animatedly, barely sitting in his seat as he waved his arms around. He looked like he was having a great time.

“Isn’t he in our room tonight?” Kenma asked ruefully. 

Oikawa watched the Date Tech setter. He needed a distraction to keep the blush from forming as he remembered the four of them had switched around room assignments to be together. 

“Yeah, he’s one of the other guys,” confirmed Sugawara, before turning to Oikawa.  "Isn't your underclassmen with us too?" 

"Yup! Yahaba." Oikawa had hardly seen him all day. Yahaba inexplicably had friends on every team, and had spent most of his day floating around and catching up. Oikawa even spotted him leading an impromptu yoga session during lunch. He wondered where Yahaba was sitting now. 

"Ah, you mentioned him before! Your pinch server with the swishy bangs," Sugawara said. 

Oikawa nodded fondly. "The one and only." 

The table ate in a comfortable silence for a while, its occupants too tired and hungry to keep up much conversation. 

“Ah! Akaashi, I meant to ask- about that one match with the red team, when you switched positions after the set with...” Suga started, but stopped when he saw somebody approach the table. 

“Oikawa.”

Oikawa looked up at the boy. He stood with a slight scowl on his face, arrogance hanging off his frame like a cape. 

“Semi,” acknowledged Oikawa crisply. The usual lilt of his voice had vanished. 

Semi smirked a little.

“How’s Seijoh treating you?”

Oikawa shrugged. “Fantastic. As usual. I love my team.”

Sugawara watched him closely. His jaw seemed more firmly set than usual. His hands balled themselves into fists in his lap. 

“Oh, is that so?” Semi snorted. 

Something mean was coming, Oikawa could just tell. His stomach tightened in rage but he was determined not to show it on his face. This prick was clearly just trying to get a rise out of him, and he was determined not to start a fight in the middle of a camp. 

Semi drawled on, a hand on his hip. “Seems a shame then, that you can’t ever seem to get your colorful little ragtag team to Nationals, then, huh? Maybe if you weren’t all busy making out with each other like a bunch of- ” 

Sugawara stood abruptly. Oikawa’s mouth hung wide as watched. 

A dark, furious glare, ice-cold and sharp at the edges. A snarl barely held back. That usual friendly warmth frozen over like hell.  

“So sorry...” Sugawara said in a terrifyingly cheerful voice. There was barbed wire underneath his words, so chilling it gave Oikawa goosebumps. 

Semi took a small step backwards under Sugawara’s fdisconcerting gaze.

Sugawara wasn't finished, though. “...He and I were actually about to head out. It was very nice to meet you. Well! Hm, not really, actually. You kind of fucking suck.” He grabbed Oikawa’s wrist and tugged him out of his seat. 

Sugawara turned away.

Semi faltered as Sugawara glared daggers over his shoulder. “Maybe while we’re gone you should, uh,” Sugawara put a finger to his chin, pretending to think it over, “Hm, I don’t know, go fuck yourself.” He put so much malice in the words, even Oikawa flinched. 

He couldn't catch Semi’s reaction, too stunned to resist as Sugawara quickly pulled him out of the cafeteria.

They made their way through a short hallway and out to the courtyard. Sugawara shoved doors open with one hand and held Oikawa's with the other.

They stopped right outside the building. The night air was thick with heat. Cicadas churred into the dark. 

Oikawa finally snapped back to himself as Sugawara suddenly dropped his wrist. 

“Sorry!” said Sugawara, flustered. The frightening frost was gone in an instant.  “I shouldn’t have imposed. I just.. fuck, that guy's awful! And I know you probably could have handled it, I just... I noticed you do this thing sometimes when you seem like you’re uncomfortable where you tuck your thumbs into your fists, and.. Wait, that sounds weird to say! God,” Sugawara waved his hands in front of his face. “Forget that last part.” 

Oikawa blushed harder than he ever had in his life.

Sugawara had stood up for him, Sugawara had learned his body language. Did he really do that when he was uncomfortable? Oikawa wasn’t even aware of it.

His heart ached, with the rest of his aching body. “Sugawara... Thank you so much. I mean it, really. I... Shiratorizawa is not my favorite crowd to deal with.” 

Sugawara studied his face carefully under the fluorescent lights. “Do you wanna talk about it? We can walk back to the room.” 

Oikawa looked back to the doors.

“We left our trays.” 

“I’m sure Akaashi will grab them for us.” 

Oikawa hesitated. Shifted his weight off the knee that hurt more. “Are you sure?”

“About Akaashi grabbing our trays or about wanting to listen to you?” 

“Both.”

“Yes, Oikawa. It’s really no trouble, if you need someone to talk to about it I’m happy to listen. What that guy said, what he was about to say, was seriously not okay. Akaashi will understand, he saw it all happen anyways.”

Oikawa let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

He started to walk along the path. Sugawara quickly matched his pace. 

“You know Ushiwaka, right?” Oikawa began. 

Sugawara hummed as he thought. “Shiratorizawa's captain? The crazy good one, who’s in the magazine all the time. Mr. Perfect.”

Oikawa nodded. “He really wanted me to go there too. To Shiratorizawa. I didn’t, obviously. It caused some.. Bitterness.” 

They walked further along the path. The lights buzzed quietly above their heads as they made their way up the stairs. 

He continued. “Semi’s always given me shit for it. I’m sure that idiot bastard Waka-kun brought it up more than once, knowing how blunt and annoyingly persistent the guy is. Probably pushed Semi harder, probably compared him to me or whatever. And Semi’s known to hold a particularly fierce grudge."

Oikawa opened the door for Sugawara as he talked. "Not to mention, well. I’m sure you could have guessed his opinions on Makki and Mattsun. He earned a black eye one time from Iwa-chan for voicing those opinions. I'm kind of impressed he had the nerve to say it to me, like I wouldn’t fuck him up just as fast.” 

Even if he didn’t always show it, Oikawa loved his team dearly. Especially his fellow third-years. They had been with him through everything: every thrilling win and crushing loss, all those long hours of practice and hanging out together in the small hours between. Oikawa only had an older sister, but his three friends were as close to brothers as he could ever ask for. 

He tried to fight the white hot anger that pushed up against the back of his eyes. “To put it lightly, Semi and I don’t really get along.” 

Oikawa didn’t know how much more he should tell. He was trying to pinprick droplets out of a whole ocean without letting it all crash through. About Shiratorizawa, about why he never joined, about his own team, his anger towards people that looked down on his teammates, his own insecurities, what Coach Hibarida had said. He didn’t want to drown Sugawara in all these worries that constantly churned in his head.  

They walked down the hall, passing several dorms along the way. Boys were already laying out their futons and heading towards the bathroom with toothbrushes jammed in their mouths. 

“He’s a dick and I hope he gets cut from his team,” said Sugawara plainly. 

Oikawa stared at him, shocked by the bluntness of the statement. Sugawara held their eye contact. His eyes weren’t cold like before, but his expression was still firm. 

“I’m serious. None of that is your fault. Where you go to school is your choice, not his, not Mr. Perfect’s. If he has insecurities about being their setter he shouldn’t take them out on you. And he especially shouldn’t take them out on your teammates for being gay,” he said.

They stopped outside of their room. 

Sugawara held his gaze, his face softening. 

“You’re amazing, Oikawa. I get why they wanted you to join. But I'm sure you had your reasons for not going there. Just... please don’t forget how hard you’ve worked to get to where you are with your team.” 

Sugawara finally turned to slide open the door and enter the room. Oikawa couldn’t move. His legs were cemented in place, unable to do anything without input from his brain. 

You’re amazing, Oikawa, You’re amazing, Oikawa, You’re amazing, Oika-  

Sugawara poked his head out the door. “You coming in..?”

“Yeah! Yeah, sorry, I spaced out thinking about my cool team and their even cooler captain," he replied with a trademark grin. Slowly, slowly he would learn how to act normal around Sugawara. Even if the the smallest smile still sent a rush down his spine. 

Oikawa walked into the room. "Thanks, again,” he said softly. 

Sugawara pulled his pajamas out of his bag. “Don’t mention it, I was happy to help.”

“I’m serious, Sugawara,” said Oikawa, sitting down in front of him. He didn’t want Sugawara to trivialize the help he had given. Even though Oikawa’s limbs were still heavy, his mind was a lot lighter now.

Sugawara’s hands stopped rummaging in his bag for a moment. He smiled up at Oikawa. 

“My friends call me Suga.”

Chapter Text

“Come ON, you guys are being laaame. We’re at camp! This is supposed to be bonding time!” 

Oikawa held in his groan. 

The blonde setter from Date Tech was sitting with his legs crossed on a futon. He showed no sign of exhaustion. In fact, he practically vibrated in place. Three tufts of dark hair stood straight up from his forehead, as if to show just how awake he was. 

“Koganegawa, I think we’re all a little tired from today,” Akaashi explained patiently. Oikawa smiled to himself, realizing that Akaashi was used to negotiating with characters like this. 

“And? So? We can even raise the stakes a little bit, if that makes it more enticing!” 

Sugawara looked up from his futon, where he was watching an old Karasuno game on his phone. He had felt rather bold when he placed his bed next to Oikawa’s. But now he was trying to distract himself from wondering if that had been too bold. 

“Oh?” he said, intrigued.

Oikawa laughed. “I didn’t pin you as a gambling guy, Suga,” he teased. 

Sugawara tried to look cross, but it was hard to do when his nickname sounded that good coming off Oikawa’s tongue. It was scratchy sweet, like coarse sugar. He wanted Oikawa to say it over and over again, to whisper it in his ear like a secret. 

He opted for an eyeroll in response. He did not trust his thoughts to stay zipped up behind his throat if he opened his mouth. 

The boys had spent their time after dinner winding down and getting ready for bed. Yahaba was tucked in an intricate sitting position in the corner of the room, either meditating or sleeping. It was always hard to be sure. Everyone had been rather quiet, robbed of their energy through the course of the day. But it wasn’t stiflingly quiet. Akaashi had earlier asked in his soft voice if Oikawa was okay. He told Oikawa that Semi had walked off right after they left. 

Oikawa assuaged his concerns, and later was not spared from from the boys’ merciless teasing about his lengthy skincare routine. He threw his toiletries into his bag with a huff, muttering something about “snot-nosed greasy ass teenage boys not knowing anything about beauty”, which made even Akaashi let out a small exhale of a laugh. 

They had finally settled into their beds when Koganegawa proposed his game. 

“I’m out,” said Kenma, already curled up in his comforter and playing something on his phone. 

“I’ll buy you whatever snacks you want tomorrow!” Koganegawa exclaimed. 

“I’m in,” said Kenma. He rolled over onto his stomach. “What are we playing again? I wasn’t listening.”

“It’s some question generator he found online. Like icebreaker type stuff. If you don’t answer you have to eat some of that curry that he completely ruined with hot sauce and god knows what else,” Oikawa explained, pointing at the styrofoam container near Koganegawa. Kenma looked bored with this idea, but nodded. 

“Sick. Cool. Loving it,” he said, unconvincingly monotone. 

“GOD you guys are no fun,” whined Koganegawa. 

Akaashi let out a small sigh. “We used up all of our fun earlier today.”

“Just a couple rounds then! Come onnn, it’ll be great I promise!” 

“I’m in,” said Sugawara. “But!” he held up a finger, before pointing it at Koganegawa. “I want your ice cream from tomorrow’s lunch. AND!” He held up another finger. “I want some blocking pointers during free practice.” His eyes gleamed. 

Oikawa swore Koganegawa’s hair tufts wilted slightly at this proposition. “Fuck it, fine,” Koganegawa relented. 

Sugawara pumped his fist, and sat up to face the circle that had started to form. 

Oikawa was exhausted, but he now had a reason to play. He scooted towards the circle. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll play too. You don’t have to bribe me,” he said with a pointed look at Sugawara, who stuck his tongue out in response.

Oikawa’s stomach traded places with his heart. Flirting with Sugawara was like dancing his hand above an open flame. Exhilarating, but if he leaned in too hard or lingered for too long, Sugawara would melt him into oblivion. 

Akaashi looked up at the ceiling for just barely a moment. If he was saying a silent prayer, it was unsuccessful. No gods intervened on his behalf. He sighed again.

“Okay. Alright. I’ll play as well. But we have to be quiet, and I’m going to bed in like half an hour whether it’s over or not.” 

Koganegawa was about to shout in excitement, but choked it down when he heard Akaashi’s first requirement. “Yeah! Yeah, super quiet and super quick. What about you?” He asked as he turned towards Yahaba in the corner. 

Yahaba let out a long hum. So he wasn’t sleeping, Oikawa mused.  

“He’ll join in if he wants,” said Oikawa. His teammate was selective about what he put effort into. Sometimes it was like Kunumi was rubbing off on him, with how unmotivated he was during practices. Other times he was so intense he refused to go home before nailing thirty consecutive serves. Oikawa had learned how to gauge and navigate Yahaba’s personality, but it took a while to get accustomed to. 

Koganegawa frowned, but didn’t argue. “Ok ok, lemme get it pulled up.” 

Sugawara leaned over to Oikawa. “I have an advantage in this game,” he whispered. 

The hair on Oikawa’s neck prickled at the closeness of his voice. He tilted in his seat to whisper back. “What’s your advantage?” 

Sugawara grinned. Oikawa was starting to learn the difference between his smiles: this one was definitely mischievous.

“You’ll find out,” Sugawara whispered. 

Oikawa was about to ask another question, but right then Koganegawa found what he was looking for. “Okay! I’ll set my phone in the middle, and you tap the button to get your question. You can skip, BUT you have to eat my Super Curry Inferno if you do.”

“How do you win?” Kenma asked. 

Koganegawa thought for a moment. “By not dying! Let’s play!” 

They went a couple rounds without anybody braving the curry. Oikawa had to admit that it was actually kind of entertaining. He learned that Akaashi had shattered his arm skateboarding when he was 12, that Kenma has a cat named Lightning McQueen, and that Koganegawa idolized that silent white-haired guy on his team. Each time Sugawara’s turn came, he held his breath. 

Sugawara has a sister, older than him. Sugawara wants to go into education. Sugawara would choose mind reading if he could have any superpower, because he thinks it would be both useful and entertaining. Sugawara is afraid of heights. Sugawara was obsessed with Greek mythology as a kid. 

Sugawara had his own interests in the game. He now had a wealth of pretty smooth stones, little bits of knowledge about Oikawa that he took in greedily. If Oikawa could travel anywhere, he would go to Argentina. He loves milk bread. He hates the color orange. He helps coach at a kids’ volleyball clinic. He thinks cows are cute (this one more an affirmation than a revelation). He once snuck into Shiratorizawa at night to jump in their pool, on a dare. He had charmed his way out of the security guard calling the police on him, soaking wet and grinning from ear to ear. 

It was Sugawara’s turn again. He pushed the button. 

[Who do you have a crush on?] read the phone screen. 

Oikawa stared at the words, not brave enough to glance at Sugawara. 

“Isn’t that a little presumptuous..?” Akaashi wondered, a pillow jammed between his elbows and his chin. “What if you don’t have one at all?”

Sugawara gave no response. He just stared at the phone. 

“Do you??” asked Koganegawa excitedly. 

After a second, Sugawara looked up. His smile was disarmingly bright. 

“Gentlemen, it’s been an honor,” he said in a serious tone. Oikawa could barely register what happened next. In a flash, Sugawara flipped open the container, scooped some curry with the spoon, and shoved it in his mouth. 

Everybody stared at him in shock. 

“What-” Kenma couldn’t even form a sentence in time. 

“NO! Wait! I put WAY too much in there, you weren’t actually supposed to-” Koganegawa started to say frantically. 

“Are you okay??? Do you need some water?” cut in Akaashi, his eyes uncharacteristically wide. 

Oikawa just stared at him in horror. But…

Sugawara gulped, and gave them a thumbs up. 

“Ta-dah!” 

Nobody said anything for a second. Then came the uproar. 

“What the fuck, how did you do that?” wondered Kenma. It was the most invested he had looked the whole game. 

“Somehow I feel like you cheated!!” Koganegawa pouted, frustrated with himself for getting so panicked. 

Akaashi just shook his head. “Sugawara-san… you’re full of so many surprises.”

“That was your advantage, wasn’t it?” asked Oikawa as Sugawara fell back in a fit of giggles. Oikawa was still in shock, but it was now mixed with amazement. Sugawara rolled over with laughter. 

“I love spicy food,” he managed to say between laughs. 

Oikawa threw his hands in the air in mock annoyance. “I give up. I don’t wanna play anymore against this psycho.” 

Akaashi nodded. “I’m with you. Goodnight guys.”

“Thanks for the game, Koganegawa,” said Sugawara. He was still catching his breath, tears glistening in his eyes. 

Kenma said something, but it was hard to hear through his burrow of blankets.

Yahaba had apparently already switched from mediation to sleep. 

Koganegawa was pleased with himself. “Told you guys it’d be fun.” 

With that, the boys turned off the lights and settled into their respective beds. Oikawa looked at Sugawara in the dim stillness. 

“Goodnight, Suga. I am afraid of you now,” he whispered.  

Sugawara beamed, his face a pearl in the moonlight. “Night, Oikawa.” 

_____________________________

Oikawa didn’t remember falling asleep, but it was hard to get back to sleep once he had woken up. Koganegawa must have been trying to escape something in his dreams with the way he thrashed about.

Oikawa sighed. It couldn’t be later than 3AM. Might as well go to the bathroom while I’m up , he thought blearily, and tip-toed out of the room. 

The building was silent. It was hard to imagine there were about a hundred hyperactive teenage boys tucked away in here, dreaming their sweet volleyball dreams. Oikawa washed his hands and walked back to the room.

The light from up ahead the hall caught his attention before the sound did. 

Curious, Oikawa walked to the lobby. A vending machine’s soft pink light washed the room in its glow. The only other light came from the windows as the moon peered in cautiously. 

Sugawara sat on one of the couches, legs tucked up to his chest. His head was cupped between his two palms.

He was crying. 

Oikawa froze. He didn’t know whether or not to intrude on this moment. But before he could make a decision, Sugawara looked up from his hands.

“Oh-” he said. His voice cracked with the exclamation. His eyes were puffy and wet, and he shifted to wipe them. “Um. Oikawa, hey. I didn’t think anyone else was up.” He turned his face, as if to hide it. He could not hide the shake in his shoulders, though. 

Oikawa’s heart broke. 

He took a small step over the pieces, closer to the boy on the couch. “Suga,” he said softly. Carefully. Like he was afraid Sugawara would break too. 

“Yeah? What’s up?” Sugawara tried to sound casual as he looked the other way, but his faltering voice betrayed him halfway through. 

“Can I sit down?”

Sugawara turned to look at him. He sighed, realizing that he couldn’t really hide anymore. Of all the people to see me like this... Why did it have to be you, he thought miserably. 

“Sure,” he managed. 

Oikawa sat down on the other side of the couch, folding his legs across each other. He put his hands in his lap and fiddled with a string hanging off his pajama pants. 

Sugawara sniffed. His nose was blocked up. 

He laughed a flat, humorless laugh. “I bet I look like shit right now.”

Oikawa looked over at him. The tip of his nose was pink, outlined in the moonlight. 

“You don’t,” Oikawa said, his voice low and reverent. You look like an angel. A very sad, very beautiful angel.  

Sugawara couldn’t even make himself look at Oikawa. He wanted to be swallowed into the couch. 

Oikawa waited. He didn’t want to press Sugawara to talk, not after he had already intruded. An idea crossed his mind. 

“Wait here,” said Oikawa abruptly, running back to the darkness of the hallway. 

Sugawara stared after him. It was only a minute before he came back. 

Oikawa held out a tissue to Sugawara. Somehow this made him want to cry even more, but he gripped the tears back. 

“Thank you,” he said. He reached out and took the tissue. 

Oikawa walked over to the vending machine. Sugawara could only slightly hear its faint clicks and beeps as he blew his nose. 

When he looked again, Oikawa was sitting right next to him. He held a can out to Sugawara, another one curled in his other hand. 

Sugawara smiled weakly. He wasn’t even up to objecting. 

“Thanks, man.” Two sharp cracks of the opening cans cut through the still night. 

Oikawa sat back and took a long drink. Sugawara just held his in his hands, staring at the moonlight caught on its rim. 

“I…” he started. His shoulders trembled. 

Oikawa lowered his drink into his lap and waited patiently. 

“I’m just. So.. tired.” said Sugawara, his shoulders collapsing with the last word. 

Oikawa stayed quiet. He wanted nothing more than to hug him, to stroke his hair and comfort him. But he knew Sugawara needed a chance to talk about what was causing him so much pain. 

“I’m so fucking tired of being secondary. I know my choice is what’s best for the team, letting Kageyama be the starter. I mean GOD KNOWS he’s more talented than me, how could I- Even if I spent my whole life training, could I ever catch up? Just to where he is now? How could I ever even compete with that?” Sugawara gestured widely. 

He looked bitter and hurt and angry and sad, all in one. It was the rawest, most open display of emotions Oikawa had seen from the boy. 

Sugawara raked his free hand through his hair, its silver caught white in the light. “Just once… I want to be selfish. I want… to be chosen. I want to be somebody’s first choice. I want to stop feeling so god damn insufficient. I want to feel proud, like all this work I’ve put in fucking matters. But I’m just a regular guy. Not a genius. I’m not him. I’m not you. I’m just… I’m just a fucking benched third year.” 

The bitterness in his tone wobbled out at the last sentence, and he let out a sob into his curled fists. 

Oikawa was stunned. His tongue refused to move. Oikawa had already guessed at Sugawara’s feelings about the whole situation with his underclassmen, but he hadn’t realized how deeply the hurt ran. 

Something painfully huge panged in his chest as he watched several tears fall onto Sugawara's sweatpants, darkening their gray. 

Sugawara let out a soft “Ouf!” as Oikawa hugged him sidelong. It startled him out of crying. Oikawa squeezed and did not let go. 

Sugawara looked down. All he could see was the top of Oikawa’s head. His hair tickled Sugawara’s chin. 

“I know that this is... not the most comforting thing to say, so I wanted to hug you while I said it,” a slightly muffled voice came from below. It was silent for a moment.

“I know how you feel. Part of how you feel, at least,” said Oikawa finally. 

Sugawara cocked his head, and gently lifted Oikawa’s arms up to look at his face. He couldn’t tell if Oikawa was being serious or not. 

“What? You… you do?”

Oikawa nodded solemnly. 

“You, Oikawa.” Sugawara continued. He was too surprised to manage sarcasm.  “How…?” His eyes searched Oikawa’s for the answer.

“Kageyama is a little shit,” Oikawa said simply, a pained smile on his face. 

Sugawara’s jaw went slack. 

Oikawa chuckled. “You know it’s true. He’s fantastic, he’s a genius, but he’s such a little shit. I’ve always felt like I have to sprint just to keep up with him, all these years. I’ve run myself ragged. I’m never satisfied, because somehow he just keeps getting better. Somehow everybody around me is improving, and I…”

He sat up and looked adamantly into Sugawara’s eyes. 

“But this isn’t about me. I’m working on those feelings. I just wanted you to know that you aren’t alone in that feeling, that I can say this with certainty because I'm there too. And again, only part of it- I can't even begin to understand all of how you feel, but I get the insufficiency thing. And Suga... You really don’t give yourself enough credit.” 

Sugawara looked away. 

“I’m serious,” Oikawa told him. His voice was emphatically firm across the vending machine’s soft whirring behind them. “You have a lot to be proud of, 'genius' or not," he added air quotes around the term.

He continued. "I’ve watched your warmups, I’ve seen you during this camp. I’ve reviewed your team’s old tapes before. You have your teammates’ full trust. You care so deeply about them. You don’t get thrown off easily, you’re indomitable. And you make volleyball look…” Oikawa trailed off. He remembered watching Sugawara set for the first time. 

“You make volleyball look fun.” 

Sugawara looked at him cautiously. He did not dare to breathe, as if filling his lungs would fill him with the hope that Oikawa actually meant what he just said. 

“Really?” 

Oikawa's nod was even more solemn than the last. 

Sugawara’s eyes shone as if he might cry again, but instead he broke into a wobbly smile. 

“Can I have another hug?” Sugawara whispered.

Oikawa grinned. “Hell yeah you can,” he said, pulling Sugawara in for a proper hug this time. After several seconds, he felt Sugawara’s hands clasp lightly around his back. 

“Thank you,” said Sugawara quietly into his chest. It was warm against his cheek. 

“Don’t mention it, I know I give great hugs,” Oikawa responded, earning himself a shaky huff of laughter from Sugawara. 

“You know what I meant,” said Sugawara. 

“I know. And I meant all of what I said,” Oikawa replied. He pulled back and held Sugawara by the shoulders. “Do you want to hear a secret?”

Sugawara wiped at his eyes. He smiled. “Always.” 

“I almost punched Tobio one time.” 

Sugawara gasped. “What!? Oh my god, tell me what happened.” 

They settled back into their seats. 

“There isn’t much to explain. He was just annoying me and I was very jealous. Iwa-chan held me back, I’m glad he did.” 

Sugawara laughed quietly. “And you’re afraid of me? ” 

“Hey!” Oikawa said, shoving his shoulder against Sugawara’s. “I’m trying to cheer you up!” 

Sugawara grinned. “I know, I know.” He looked down at his drink again. “It’s working.” 

Oikawa blushed, as Sugawara noticed the wallet wedged into the cushion seam between them. He must have grabbed it for the drinks. 

A tiny spherical keychain hung around the outside. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing towards it. 

Oikawa looked to where he was pointing. “Oh, the keychain? It’s Jupiter.” He unclipped it and handed it to Sugawara. “My mom got it for me when she went overseas, from some museum in America,” he explained. 

Sugawara held it up to his face to see in the dim room. “I love it.” 

Everything felt dizzy and quick inside Oikawa, watching this beautiful boy hold a planet between his forefinger and thumb like a god. 

“It looks like a Van Gogh painting,” Sugawara whispered, admiring the tiny planet’s thousands of colorful bands. 

Oikawa leaned back on the couch and looked through the window. 

“Van Gogh wrote about space. He talked about it in a letter to his brother. Said that he thought we could travel to the stars, but only when we die. And then they become like highways and cities to us,” he said quietly.

Sugawara swung the keychain from side to side, tracking its arc with his eyes. “Hmm. I like to think that we…” He paused, furrowing his brow for a moment as he formed his thoughts. The tiny Jupiter stilled, its orbit forgotten. 

“I like to think that we get one shot at the stars while we’re alive. Like, one chance for everything in the universe to be on our side.” He cupped the keychain with his other hand, bringing both hands to rest in his lap. “But that’s pretty corny, huh?” he added, chuckling as he turned towards Oikawa. 

Oikawa was staring at him. Sugawara looked away quickly, too afraid to try and understand the look on his face. 

Oikawa shifted and crossed his legs, running his finger lightly around the rim of his soda can to bead off the condensation. “Well, he wrote about boners in that letter too, so I wouldn’t take much stock in what he thinks about it anyways,” he joked.

Sugawara snorted. “Fuck, really?” he said between his quiet laughter. 

“Yup.”

Sugawara felt better. Hearing that Oikawa dealt with the same insecurities had calmed something in his mind. Oikawa was genuine in his praise, and seemed very determined to make Sugawara understand that. Sugawara’s heart started to settle, to lighten with each laugh. 

They fell into a lull for a while, both finishing their drinks. Sugawara played with the keychain, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Oikawa tapped the side of his can as he hummed absentmindedly. 

Wait, Sugawara realized. His breath caught in his throat. 

He watched Oikawa. After a couple seconds, Oikawa glanced up and startled. 

“Wh- what? What’s with that look??” 

“That’s my favorite song,” Sugawara said quietly, still staring. 

Oikawa’s ears burned. There was no cool way to tell Sugawara that yes, he knew that. That Oikawa had started to listen to his favorite band after seeing them on his Instagram page. That he had made a playlist of his favorite songs off their albums, and that they had become part of his running routine. 

He couldn’t tell Sugawara that each song reminded him of a certain part along his route: the two gnarled oak trees on the corner of his block, the stationary store run by a sweet old lady and her daughter, the bridge across the river, the alleyway he sometimes used as a shortcut to beat Iwaizumi when they ran together.

He definitely couldn’t tell Sugawara that each time he listened, he tried to imagine how it sounded through Sugawara’s ears. What emotions Sugawara felt, what places he was reminded of.

If Sugawara thought his theory was corny, admitting any of this would be disastrous.

He opted for silence. Not that he would have been able to form an intelligible response anyways, with those eyes looking so intently into his own.  

Neither one of them broke their gaze. 

Oikawa swallowed, his throat somehow bone dry even after his drink. They were close enough together, their noses inches from each other. Like the first time Oikawa had seen him, except this time without the barrier of a net between them. And they weren’t strangers anymore, so that barrier was gone too.

All it would take is him leaning forward. All he had to do was-- 

A sharp clatter from behind jolted the two boys on the couch. They both turned. 

Kenma stood at the vending machine. His socks were tucked into his sweatpants. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know how to interject, so… I didn’t.” 

Oikawa hoped he didn’t look as deranged as he felt. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, loud and frantic. 

“Oh, no problem! Why are you up?” Sugawara asked. Oikawa could hardly hear him. Everything sounded slightly underwater beneath his heartbeat. 

Kenma shrugged as he bent over and picked up the soda from the machine’s slot. “Sometimes it’s difficult for me to stay asleep. Or to sleep at all. Anyways, gnite guys.” He wandered back down the hall just as soundlessly as he came. 

Oikawa felt sweat forming on the back of his neck. He had almost- had they almost---???

The couch shifted next to him. Sugawara stood up, his face obscured by his hair. 

“I think I’m gonna call it a night too. Thank you again, Oikawa, you were a huge help,” he said. He threw his can in the recycling bin on the way out of the lobby. 

Oikawa stared after him, frozen in his seat. 

Down the hall, Sugawara leaned against a door frame. He clutched his chest tightly. 

The darkness of the night hid the color on his face.

Chapter Text

The second day passed more quickly than the first. Oikawa found that his joints started to scream sooner too. He was grateful that he didn’t practice on Mondays. The exhaustion would take a day to wind its way out of his fingertips, out of his bones. 

They sat on the gym floor around the coaches and assistants at the close of camp. The coaches gave their final words, everyone clapped and thanked them, Hibarida gave his own little speech, everyone clapped and thanked even harder, and then it was over. 

Oikawa made his way to Coach Hibarida through the sea of setters. 

“Oikawa,” Hibarida smiled wide as he shook the boy’s hand. 

“Sir. I just wanted to say thank you, for your advice.” 

“Oh, anytime! I hope this old man's ramblings were of some use to you," he chuckled. "And I hope you think seriously about your future in volleyball. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around in a couple years!” 

“I will, thank you.” Oikawa bowed slightly, his face warm with the praise. 

He stepped out into the evening with his bag slung against his back. 

“Hey.”

Oikawa turned. Akaashi nodded at him, his hand outstretched. 

“It’s been nice getting to kn- ohghf.” Oikawa had wrapped him firmly in a hug before he could finish. “Oh. We’re hugging, okay. That’s good too,” Akaashi managed as he tentatively patted Oikawa on the back. 

Oikawa released him and grinned. “I’ll see you around, Kashi-kun. Whip that ace of yours into shape so I can play him at his best, yeah? I don’t want any asterisks next to my win.” 

Akaashi chuckled softly. “Sure thing.” 

The gym doors clattered as Sugawara burst through them. “Whooooo! Man, I don’t know about you guys,” he said as he hooked his arm around Akaashi’s shoulder. “But I am ready for some SLEEP!” he exclaimed happily. 

Oikawa laughed. “I’ll be needing ice for the next couple of days at least,” he agreed.

Neither of them had acknowledged last night. Sugawara was his usual self in the morning, teasing Akaashi about his bedhead and humming as he brushed his teeth. 

Oikawa was starting to wonder if everything had been a dream. 

Akaashi looked down at his phone, buzzing insistently in his palm. “One second, guys,” he said, and Sugawara gave him some space. 

“Bokuto-san? Yes, I’m- yeah, I just got out. Will y- what do you have to ask me? Can’t you just- Can’t you just ask me now? Why does your voice sound like that? Okay, alright, I’m on my way to the station,” he said into his phone before hanging up. He let out a long sigh, but couldn’t fully hide the affection behind it. 

Oikawa glanced at Sugawara with a question in his eyes, but Sugawara was busy biting down a smirk. 

“I’ve gotta go, I’ll see you guys.” Akaashi tucked his phone into his pocket and waved goodbye. 

“Bye! Tell Bokuto I’m excited for next Saturday! And please don’t let him spike his hair, it’s hard enough to see around him as it is!” Sugawara begged. 

Oikawa waved cheerfully. “Byeee!”

Akaashi paused at the top of the steps. He looked thoughtful.

“I.. good luck, you two.” 

They didn’t get to ask him what the luck was for. He was already down the stairs and out the school gates. 

Several more people filtered out of the gym doors behind them, then they were alone again. 

Oikawa felt his heart start to race. It pattered uncomfortably against the inside of his t-shirt. 

“Well, uh!” Sugawara started. He didn’t look Oikawa directly in the eyes. “I should get going too. I promised I’d get food with Daichi,” he explained, taking a step towards the stairs.

Oikawa nodded. “Bye Suga,” he managed to say. 

“Bye, Oikawa. See you around.” Sugawara gave him a small smile before turning. 

That was it. 

Suga started to make his way down the front steps. 

That was the moment. 

His silver hair bobbed as he moved further away. 

A sense of cosmic urgency was the only thing strong enough to uproot Oikawa from his spot. He felt like if didn’t do something, immediately, he would lose any chance he had. 

Did he have a chance? Despite trying so hard to accept things as they were, Oikawa knew the usual indicators when someone liked him. Sugawara was largely unreadable below that sunny disposition. But every now and then, Oikawa felt like all the sunbeams were pointed directly at him. 

He saw Sugawara’s eyes in the dorm lobby, right before Kenma interrupted them. He saw the way Sugawara looked at him in that one gossamer moment. Sugawara had stood up for him, comforted him, sought him out as a practice partner, put his bed next to Oikawa’s. Even earlier in the locker room, Sugawara’s head had whipped away at a speed that left a shirtless Oikawa wondering if he had just been checked out. 

Hope thrummed against his throat: Sugawara just might like him back. 

One shot at the stars, huh?  

“Suga!!!!!”

Sugawara turned around, his hand still on the rail of the steps. Oikawa ran down the stairs, panting. He bent over for a moment and clutched at his chest. 

“Suga, hey, uh.” 

Sugawara stood in his place, confused but listening. 

Oikawa stood up and let out a deep breath.

When he was little, Oikawa liked to solve puzzles with his mom. He would always tuck a piece of the puzzle into his pocket while they worked. He wanted to be the last one to put a piece down, wanted to have the assurance that even if everything else was in place he still got the last call.

Every time Oikawa had asked someone out before, he tucked that last piece in his pocket. Just in case they said no (which they never did), he felt secure knowing that they weren’t rejecting the full Oikawa. This gave him the last call every time. He couldn’t get hurt because he never offered the whole of himself.

Never, not once in his life, had asking someone out made him this anxious. Anxious at all, really.

But then again, he had never put all his pieces out before. 

“I… I like you. Please go out with me sometime,” he stammered. 

Sugawara stared at him. Oikawa tried to catch the emotions on his face but they shifted too quickly. 

After an impossibly long moment, Sugawara rubbed the back of his head and laughed awkwardly.

Oikawa couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The laughter grated against his ears, squeezed the air out of his already uncomfortably tight lungs.

Sugawara cleared his throat. His stance screamed his discomfort: shoulders pinned back, legs twitching in place, eyes darting towards anything other than Oikawa. “Ahh.. Uh. Good one, Oikawa. Um. Anyways. Later, yeah?” He turned away with a halfhearted wave. 

And then he was gone. 

Oikawa’s knees gave out jaggedly as he sat down hard on a concrete step. The world was spinning at a dangerous angle, at an even more dangerous speed. He looked down at his hands. Both thumbs were already tucked into his fists. 

His stomach lurched. He forced himself to look up instead. 

The stars were multiplying rapidly, refracted by his watery eyes. 

“What... the fuck?” he asked them.

They granted no reply.  

______________________________

Everything ached.

But this time the ache couldn’t be stretched out or iced away. 

Oikawa curled deeper into his blankets. The snide “I told you so” bit like bile in the back of his mind as he reached for another tissue. 

He was once again grateful it was Monday, though this time for entirely different reasons. Nobody would question his not being at practice. School was hard enough to get through without raising anybody’s suspicions. He spent the day watching everything through a glass of water. Warped, slow, far away. 

Luckily he had gone through plenty of breakups, acted out plenty of sorrows. His friends were used to his dramatics. All he had to do was pretend this was the same. 

But it wasn’t the same. 

For the thousandth time today, Oikawa tried to remember the face Sugawara was making. What feelings were there? It was difficult to tell. Shock, for one. Maybe confusion. Discomfort. He didn’t really look angry. But there was something there… something that troubled Oikawa the most, something he couldn’t quite put a name on. 

He wrapped his arms around the strawberry cow. Even though it felt a little childish, he had burrowed himself tightly in as many blankets as he could find in his house. This was the best way he knew how to lessen the ache in his chest. It had helped him through his middle school frustrations, through losing to Shiratorizawa, through injuring his knee last year. 

Hopefully it would help him through this, too. 

A soft knock came at his bedroom door. “Tooru?” his mom asked, her voice tinged with worry on the other side. No doubt she had seen all of the blankets missing. 

“I’m fine, I just want to be alone for a while.” His voice was fractured, pieced together in a way that meant to sound carefree. Instead it came out patchwork and strange, like ten other people crowded into one. 

There was silence for a moment as Oikawa watched the shadow shift in the sliver of light underneath the door. She spoke again. 

“...Okay, honey. Just let me know if you want some dinner.” 

“Thanks, Mom,” the ten people responded. 

He rolled over on his back and looked up at the ceiling. There was nobody around to kick for the whole ordeal... 

Well. Nobody but himself. 

He felt like an idiot. An unwanted, unwantable idiot. Annoying, dramatic, so self-assured and for what? He knew the fans screaming his name would scream just as loud for another handsome face. One that could take their team to Nationals, instead of having to look their teammates in the eyes after yet another year lost.

Someone actually, genuinely confident in themselves. Someone who didn't have to keep plastering on the same pretty smile over the same ugly cracks. Someone Sugawara would like back. 

That someone was not him, and he hated himself for it. 

And yet he had gone, presumptuous as ever, and asked Sugawara out. Like an idiot. And got rejected. Like an idiot. 

Suga is nice to all his friends, Oikawa berated himself. How could he have thought Sugawara felt otherwise?  

Now any chances of them even staying friends were beyond ruined. Fuck. I’m so fucking stupid. 

He pulled his arms out of the blankets and laid one over his face, trying to fight off the hollow anger that threatened to take over him. He knew self loathing wouldn’t solve anything. The damage was done. Nothing could revoke the way Sugawara had looked at him. 

But the more he tried to turn his mind away, the sharper Sugawara's face stood out. There was shock, there was confusion, there was… 

A firm, cold realization wrapped around Oikawa’s heart like a piano wire. He finally figured out what that last emotion was, devastatingly clear across that beautiful face: 

Sadness.

______________________________

“Yo, Makki,” Iwaizumi called out. Practice had ended already, so Hanamaki and Matsukawa were sitting out on a ledge in the sunshine. 

“What’s up?” Hanamaki pulled an earbud out and looked up from whatever the two were watching on Matsukawa’s phone.

“Did you see Oikawa today?” 

“No, I came in late so I didn’t have any classes with him.” 

Matsukawa pulled his earbud out too. “I saw him for a second, in the hall. He looked kinda bummed. Figured he was going through another breakup so I gave him some space.” 

“Maybe Ushijima pranked him again,” suggested Hanamaki. He swung his legs, kicking gently at the wall they were perched on. 

Matsukawa giggled. “Oikawa doesn’t even realize it’s actually a prank, that’s the best part.” 

Worry wore at Iwaizumi. Oikawa still hadn’t answered his text from yesterday morning. If it was a dating thing… Iwaizumi frowned. Oikawa probably hadn’t told anyone else that his feelings were different this time. 

“Are you talking about Oikawa?” Kindaichi asked as he and Watari walked out of the gym. 

“Yeah, have you seen him today?” Iwaizumi rubbed his chin with his hand, trying to piece everything together. 

“No, but..” he paused, and looked at Watari. 

Watari finished his thought for him. “He’s been kinda weird lately, don’t you think?”

“I mean, not weird in general, just. Weird for Oikawa,” explained Kindaichi. “He’s still Oikawa, just. A little more caring and less… conceited.” 

“Now that you mention it,” Hanamaki chimed in, “there haven’t been nearly as many spectators at our practices recently.” 

Iwaizumi blinked. He hadn’t noticed any of this, but Hanamaki was right. Practices had been a lot quieter. Thinking back on the past month, Iwaizumi realized his nerves had been tested far less than usual. Suspicious to say the least. 

“Maybe someone finally hit him upside the head with a baseball bat,” Kyoutani growled on his way past the group. “Can’t say I haven’t considered it before.” 

Hanamaki and Matsuwkawa broke out in laughter at this. 

Iwaizumi was too preoccupied to chide them. He pulled out his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and nodded at his teammates before walking away. 

“I’ll look into it. Thanks guys.” 

______________________________

A dull, plastic thump woke Oikawa up. Iwaizumi was standing in front of him. 

“How’d you get in here?” Oikawa asked groggily. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and his cheek was lined pink from napping. The puffiness around his eyes had gone down a little bit- he couldn't cry when he was asleep. 

“Your mom loves me,” said Iwaizumi, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Iwaizumi sat down on the floor next to Oikawa. “Better eat them while they’re hot,” he said gruffly, gesturing to the bag he had dropped on the bed. 

Oikawa pulled his arms far enough out of his blankets to peek inside. Milk bread. He pulled a bun out and tossed it to Iwaizumi before grabbing another for himself. 

“How did you know?” asked Oikawa quietly. 

“That you’re obsessed with milk bread? Fucking please. Give me some credit here.”

“No. How did you know, Iwa.” 

Iwaizumi looked at his best friend. He seemed… deflated. Smaller. This wasn’t the heartbreak fanfare he had seen so many times before. This quiet version of Oikawa was far more concerning than his usual overtures about love and loss and girls named Emiko. 

It was closer to the one time Iwaizumi had ever seen Oikawa cry-- truly cry, not his pretty tears that left his face intact in front of fans. Oikawa always had something to say, or sing, or whine, or tease, or taunt. A constant demand to be looked at and listened to. 

But after their second loss to Shiratorizawa, in the safety of Iwaizumi’s backyard, Oikawa’s entire body was wracked with sobs larger than it could withstand. Iwaizumi had watched, petrified at the lack of sound. 

Oikawa was silent when he really cried. 

“You didn’t answer my text, Matsuwaka told me you looked bummed out, your mom said you were being a blanket hermit, nothing else has happened recently so I figured it was a romance thing,” Iwaizumi counted on four fingers as he stuffed the bun in his mouth. “And I already knew you were serious about it this time,” he said around a full mouth, holding up the fifth finger. 

Oikawa bit the edge of the bun. He wasn’t hungry, but he knew he needed to eat something.

There was no point in hiding it. Iwaizumi was perceptive enough to already know the gist of what happened. 

“He laughed at me,” Oikawa whispered. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. He blinked rapidly to stuff them away. 

Confusion muddled Iwaizumi's resting scowl. “He… wait, what? Your crush?”

“I asked him out and he laughed at me.” 

“...Did he say anything?”

Oikawa sighed and sat up. The bread was incredible- warm and fluffy, slightly sweet. He took a larger bite this time. It clotted in his scratchy throat, forcing him to swallow hard. 

“Something like, ‘Ha ha funny joke Oikawa' or whatever,” he said miserably. 

Iwaizumi choked on his second piece of the bread. He slammed his fist against his chest several times. “Sorry, I just- he actually thought you were kidding??” he asked after catching his breath.

Oikawa groaned as he folded the blankets back around his body. “I don’t fucking know, Iwa. You should have seen the look on his face. He was… sad.” 

“Sad?”

“Yeah. Probably sad that I fucked up our friendship by asking him out. Or sad that the person that likes him is me.” Oikawa’s voice wobbled dangerously. 

Iwaizumi stared. The irony had never been lost on him: considering how perceptive Oikawa was on the court, he could be so obstinately dense off of it. 

“Or maybe... sad because he would have said yes if you were serious, and didn’t like that you were joking, as far as he knew...?” he tried. 

“No.” 

Oikawa could not let himself hope. Not again. He would not lose his grip on his heart ever again. That’s what got him into this whole mess.

If he had just kept a lid on his annoying crush for Sugawara, they could have stayed friends. They could have joked with each other at matches, hung out with Akaashi together, maybe even practiced together some time. They could have traded gossip about their respective teammates over pastries and coffee, giggling at the drama they no doubt played a part in creating. 

Sugawara had trusted Oikawa enough to open up about his struggles. For the first time, Oikawa had earned permission to use a nickname instead of giving permission to himself. It turned out they were very alike, and they got along fantastically. Then Oikawa went and fucked it all up. 

No. Oikawa clenched his jaw. No more hoping. 

Iwaizumi sighed. “Can I help at all?” 

Oikawa flopped back on his bed. He still didn’t feel great, but both Iwaizumi and the milk bread had softened the edges. “Pretend you’re me for the rest of your life so I never have to leave my bed again?” he implored. 

The corner of Iwaizumi’s lips twitched. That was more like the Oikawa he knew. “Hard pass. I was thinking more along the lines of watching an Adlers game, or something. They play tonight.” 

Oikawa huffed out the best he could do for a laugh, given the circumstances. “That sounds good. Thanks for coming, Iwa. And for the bread.” 

Iwaizumi hummed his response as he clicked the TV on. 

______________________________

The windows had darkened by the time Iwaizumi left. Oikawa fell asleep before the last ten minutes of the game. Iwaizumi stood at the doorframe and looked back at his best friend, who was largely obscured by the tangle of blankets. 

Iwaizumi's face softened as he thought about what his teammates said earlier. 

It was true. Even though it was hard watching Oikawa struggle through these emotions, the fact that he was letting himself care enough to be sad... that was proof enough.

“I think you’ve grown a little bit, Tooru,” he whispered. The blankets didn’t move. 

Softly, Iwaizumi shut the door.

Chapter Text

“Suga?” 

Daichi waved a hand in front of his best friend’s face, concern etched into the line between his brows. 

“Ah! Sorry- damn it,” Sugawara responded, stumbling slightly on the steep incline. Asahi caught his arm to steady him. 

“You alright?” asked Asahi, his voice low with worry. “You seem off today.”

“Yesterday, too,” Daichi added, studying Sugawara. “You were super weird at dinner.” 

“I’m fine, guys.” Sugawara knew he sounded tired, but his usual level of reassurance was impossible to match. Even if the camp didn’t end the way it did, Sugawara would still be exhausted. 

He couldn’t allow himself to stop moving. Stillness for even a moment would let the thoughts seep in. He couldn’t think about what happened with Oikawa. He just couldn’t. Sugawara knew the instant he paused to unpack it, he'd crumple again. 

So all of his remaining energy had been poured into Not Thinking About It, which was its own form of Thinking About It, like learning the shape of an object by its edges alone. 

He sighed and hooked his thumb into the strap of his bag. “It’s just been a long weekend. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that Kageyama’s starting to feel better,” said Daichi patiently. “But now I’m a little more worried about you. ” 

“You’re usually hyped for meat buns after practice,” Asahi pointed out. Somehow he got dragged into being the mannequin for Kiyoko to teach Yamaguchi how to braid, so his hair was pulled up into intricate twists. 

Sugawara’s throat tightened. His friends cared so much about him. They knew when Sugawara wasn’t Sugawara. Maybe telling them could soften the cruel blow of reality. 

“Yeah, okay,” he admitted. “Something did happen.”

Daichi and Asahi waited silently as all three continued down the hill. A biker streaked passed them, metal gears whirring loudly before the three boys were thrown back into silence. 

Sugawara finally spoke.  

“Oikawa asked me out.” 

The shockwaves were palpable in the damp heat of the evening. 

“WHAT??” Daichi sputtered. “But-- wait, hold on--” he shook his head and waved his hands vigorously, trying to make sense of this.

“Holy shit, what did you say to him??” Asahi managed to ask.

“I mean, obviously I said no. He asked as-- he was kidding! I, it was a joke…” Sugawara was stumbling through his explanation. It was a joke. The boy I like asked me out to tease me. His ribs clenched hard against his lungs just thinking about last night. 

But now his friends looked even more shocked and confused. 

“Wait, what the fuck kind of joke is that?” Daichi asked angrily. He rarely swore. The word struck blunt on Sugawara’s ears. 

“I don’t know, he--” 

“What exactly did he say?” Daichi demanded. His eyes were dark, darker than usual.  

“Daichi,” Asahi said gently, putting a hand on the captain’s elbow. 

“Sorry,” said Daichi as he regained his composure. “Sorry, Suga.” 

“No, it’s okay. He said, uh..” Sugawara tugged at his bag. His voice quieted with the rest of the words. “He said, ‘I like you, will you go out with me.’” 

Asahi and Daichi stopped walking. Sugawara turned to look at them. “What?”

Asahi looked at Daichi, then at Sugawara. “Suga… I mean, did he have a weird tone to it? Has he been unkind to you before?” 

Sugawara shook his head slowly. “No. He just said it. But I mean, obviously he didn't mean it. I’ve watched him jokingly ask out almost every member of his team at least once. He teases all his friends with flirting.”

“Wait, when did you guys become friends...?” Asahi asked, his head tilted to the side. 

“I don’t know, it happened over the last couple months, and with the camp… Honestly, the joke wouldn’t have been a big deal if I didn’t like-”

Sugawara’s mouth snapped shut. His feelings for Oikawa hurt too much to admit now, what with everything that happened.

“Ah, that’s why you asked about him that one time,” Daichi supplied. 

Sugawara nodded, his face pinched with sadness. “He turned out to be very different than I expected. He’s really funny, and surprisingly caring, and we have a lot in common. I think- I think we were friends. But other than that... Why would he-- how could he ever----” 

He switched his stare frantically between his two friends. Their eyes met his with the utmost sympathy. 

“Suga,” Daichi began slowly, using his gentle voice. Sugawara flinched, unsure what to expect. 

“I don’t think that was a joke,” said Daichi.  

“Yeah, I mean. We weren’t there so it’s hard to know for sure, but that seems pretty straight up and down to me,” Asahi agreed. 

Sugawara kept staring. “He.. you don’t think he was kidding?” His voice was small and far away. 

They both shook their heads. 

“I mean, I know what you’re talking about. He’s a pretty big flirt. But I’ve never heard him say anything so simply or directly like that. I think he really meant it,” said Daichi. 

Daichi thought about Oikawa and his siblings, Oikawa the coach. How genuine and caring he was about things that were important to him, even if he threw twelve layers of panache over to cloak it. 

“Did I tell you I saw him at the Quartet’s volleyball practice? That’s where he works. I think he loves his job there. He had this fond look in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. Well- no, I felt like.. Maybe I saw it a different time? When we were all together, and he was looking at…” Daichi’s eyes widened as they settled on his best friend in front of him. “...oh.” 

Something in Sugawara’s head slid into place with a soft click. 

The look Oikawa gave him in the lobby of the dorms. Following him on Instagram. Defending him against those jerks at the camp. Praising him, comforting him, saying all those things about him making volleyball look fun. Getting flustered at the mall. Tensing up at the crush question during the icebreaker game. Staring at him through the net during warmups before that one match. 

Realization crashed in from every side. 

Oh. 

He was halfway up the hill before he realized he was running at all. “Where are you going??” Daichi yelled after him.

Sugawara’s lungs screamed with the effort. For once, he hoped the first years hadn’t listened to him warn against practicing too late.  

“To fix it!” he yelled back. 

______________________________

Oikawa groaned and fumbled for his phone as it buzzed insistently. How long had he been asleep? Iwaizumi must have left already. 

He checked the time. An unknown number had just texted him. 

He sighed, and opened his phone. 

[hi is this oikawa?]

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He hadn’t given anyone his number recently… 

He typed a message back:

[Depends on who’s asking.] 

For some reason, Ushijima would sometimes use unknown numbers to text Oikawa for a while before hitting him with his classic 'You should have come to Shiratorizawa' line. If Oikawa thought the guy was capable of humor, he would have sworn it was a prank. 

He set his phone down and stretched his arms high above his head, wincing.

The phone buzzed again. And again. And again. Christ, alright, he thought crossly as he grabbed it. 

[sorry!!]

[should have elaborated haha]

[this is suga]

Oikawa almost dropped his phone on his face. The messages kept coming, though. 

[kageyama gave me your number, i hope thats okay!]

[anyways… can i call you?]

[like right now?] 

Oikawa leapt out of his bed. 

What does he want to call about? He felt panicky and sick, but typed one last text. 

[Sure, now’s fine.]

His phone immediately started to ring. 

He swallowed hard, and grabbed his cow. 

“Hello?” His voice was rusted with sleep. He coughed to clear it. 

“Hey, Oikawa! Wow, I’m glad you haven’t changed phone numbers since middle school. Otherwise this would have been trickier.” 

If Oikawa thought his heart ached earlier, it was nothing compared to this. Hearing Sugawara’s voice made his chest scream with both longing and regret. A push and a pull, tearing him in twain.

“Hey, Suga. Um. What’s... what’s up?” 

He started doing laps around his room, pacing through his uncertainty. 

“Listen..” Sugawara began. “I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry.” 

Oikawa paused in his pacing in front of his door. He didn’t get a chance to respond before Sugawara went on. 

“I thought you were joking.. Um. But you weren’t, were you?”

Oikawa stared at his door.

He realized he had been presented with an escape. He could lie. Say it was a joke. Pretend he didn’t care and go back to the way things were before. But…

The way things were was devastatingly lonely. He didn’t realize how lonely until he let himself like Sugawara.

Everything still ached.

But the ache was far better than the numbness that had resided in his chest up until he saw Sugawara. That numbness slowly collapsed in on itself like a dying star, right from the moment he saw that radiant smile for the first time.

Oikawa turned away from the door. 

“I wasn’t joking, Suga,” he said faintly. “I know I have my moments but that would be a real shit joke to pull, even for me.”

Sugawara laughed, but it sounded more nervous than usual. “I- yeah, no, I get that now. I just.. Um. I was really surprised.” 

“You don’t have to say yes. Please don’t feel sorry for not wanting to,” Oikawa tugged at the cow’s ear, the pink fur smooth between his fingers. 

“No! I mean, yes. I mean. God, I’m not doing a great job of this.”

Oikawa heard a long breath on the other end of the phone. It crackled through the static. 

“I want to, Oikawa.” Sugawara said at last. 

Oikawa dropped the cow. “What?”

“I like you too. I want to go out with you, whenever you’re free next.” 

Oikawa’s eyes darted around his room, frantic to find proof that he wasn't dreaming. 

“Are.. you sure?” 

“Yes,” Sugawara said resolutely. “I’m very sure. Like I said, I like you. A lot, actually.”  

Warmth spread through Oikawa, evaporating the hollowness from his bones. His jaw stopped working. His brain wasn’t much better off. 

Sugawara ventured on. “Actually, um. I still feel pretty bad about how things happened.. What are you doing Saturday night?” 

Oikawa had to sit down. The emotional whiplash was messing up his relationship with gravity. 

“Nothing. I’m absolutely free,” he said breathlessly. 

He could hear Sugawara’s smile in his response. “Great. It’s a date. I’ll text you the time and address.” There was some shouting and clamoring in the background, too garbled to make out. “I gotta go throw a meat bun at Tanaka’s head. BYE!” His voice turned to a whisper near the mic. “I’m really excited for Saturday, I’ll see you then.” 

The call ended with a small click. 

Oikawa carefully set his phone on the floor and laid down. 

Nothing happened for a second. And another second. And another.

The emotions came slowly, cautiously, a thousand rising suns peering over the horizon. After what felt like forever, they morphed into a white-hot ball at his center: happiness, joy, surprise, excitement, relief, all overwhelmingly bright and strong. 

Oikawa smiled so wide his cheeks could have burst. 

“He likes me back,” he whispered to his cow in awe.

______________________________

Oikawa was a surprisingly formal texter. 

Sugawara didn’t know what to expect- emojis? Lots of exclamation points, maybe? But he certainly hadn’t expected full, grammatically correct sentences each time he picked up his phone to a text from the Seijoh captain. 

After practice on Wednesday, he snorted as he read Oikawa’s latest message: 

[How was your day today? I almost died three times- Makki and Mattsun are angry I didn’t tell them about liking you.] 

Sugawara was too busy typing his response to notice the shadows looming behind him. 

“Suga-san, is it true!” someone piped up. 

He turned around to see Hinata and Kageyama standing there, both showing their own form of interest and surprise. Hinata’s eyes were saucers, his hands balled up expectantly. Kageyama shifted and crossed his arms as he looked away, but he was still clearly focused on the conversation. 

Sugawara clicked his phone off. 

“Is what true?” he asked. 

Kageyama’s lips formed a tight line, leaving Hinata to continue the inquiry. 

“Is it true you’re dating the Great King!! That’s why you needed his number, isn’t it!” 

Sugawara glanced up to see Tanaka slip out of the gym quickly. There goes the narc.

“We’re not dating,” he explained. He relished in the pause he took, taking in both their expressions as he said, “Yet. We’re just going ON a date.” 

Both their jaws dropped. 

“I told you it was true!” Hinata shoved Kageyama.

“Wh-- how was I supposed to know! Oikawa’s the worst!” Kageyama shoved right back, before he froze.

Sugawara could only smirk as Kageyama stuttered through his explanation.

“Sorry Sugawara! I mean, I just- y’know, he’s.. He’s just so… But if that’s what you like, that’s fine, I mean- ugh… just-” 

Sugawara chopped a hand lightly on his underclassmen’s head, effectively quieting his rambling. 

“Kageyama! It’s okay,” he laughed through a wide grin. “I know you two don’t get along, I don’t expect you to like him. But I really appreciate you being cool about it.” 

Kageyama was momentarily cowed.

“Wait. Is this another prank..?” Hinata asked cautiously. “Your last one was good, but this would be WAY more elaborate, like whoooh-” Hinata’s hand soared high above his head. 

Sugawara grinned at the memory. He had armed the second years with water guns and told them to go ambush the first years. Little did they know, he had done the same exact thing for the first years. The result was a very loud, wet, and confused mob of underclassmen.

He laughed about it for weeks, and only laughed harder when Daichi would glare at him. For some reason, Daichi hadn’t bought his ‘It was for building team coordination and forming attack tactics on the fly, Dai-san!’ explanation. 

“No, Hinata. I like him and we are going on a date,” said Sugawara.

Hinata mulled this over. “Okay, if you say so,” he said, not fully convinced. 

An idea came to Sugawara.

“Here,” he said, and clicked his phone back open as the first years watched curiously. 

An empty dial tone cut through the silence as Sugawara held his phone out towards them. 

“Suga!” a happy voice sang from the speaker. “I know you were so worried about me almost dying, but I promise I’m okay! They just roughed me up a bit. Nothing serious.” 

Hinata and Kageyama stared at the phone, frozen. 

Sugawara cleared his throat. 

“Hey, Oikawa. You’re on speaker, so don’t say anything you wouldn’t want my first years hearing.”

“Aw, that’s no fun.” Oikawa’s teasing lilt was tangible through the call. “I’ll just save it for later.”

Sugawara almost dropped his phone. Apparently knowing the feelings were mutual made Oikawa ten times bolder than before.  

“ANYWAYS, Hinata and Kageyama don’t believe that we’re actually going on a date.” 

“Ah- hi Chibi-chan! Hiii Tobio!” 

Kageyama worked through his shocked expression quick enough to scowl. 

“Is this a prank?” Hinata blurted out. 

Laughter sprouted from the speaker. “What- me and Suga going out?” 

“Yeah!”

“As much as I love a good prank, Chibi, no. Even though he insists on telling me none of the details,” Oikawa emphasized, “I’m seeing him this Saturday.”

“I already told you, it’s a surprise! ” countered Sugawara. 

“What if I ask really nicely?” 

“Ask as nicely as you want. I’m not telling you.” 

Kageyama coughed. He stared at the phone. 

“Oikawa,” he said, his voice stilted. 

“Ah, Tobio! I almost forgot you were there. Feeling better?”

Kageyama’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “How did you- oh, right. Sugawara told you. Yeah, I’m better now.” 

“Good! Glad to hear it. I’m sure we’ll be up against each other soon~” 

“Don’t…” Kageyama said, his face unreadable. 

“Ah? Don’t what?” 

“Don’t.. hurt Sugawara. Or else.” He looked away. 

Sugawara’s chest swelled. 

Oikawa was silent for a moment.  “I won’t, Tobio. Promise.” His voice held all the sincerity in the world. 

“Anyways- I gotta run, this was fun but I have Mad Dog to wrangle. Bye Chibi and Tobio! Bye Suga!” 

“Bye Oikawa, talk to you later!” Sugawara said into the phone before the call ended. 

Hinata and Sugawara both stared at Kageyama, who blushed when he noticed. 

“W-what!” 

“Why aren’t you ever that nice to me!” Hinata pouted as he flicked Kageyama in the arm. 

“Ouch - I set to you! What else do you want from me, you crazy little orange!”

Just like that, they were off on a stream of taunts and pokes and jabs. Sugawara could only watch his bickering teammates fondly. 

This was what he wanted, when he gave away his starting spot. He wanted his team to keep playing, to have fun together, to bond and grow and win. And he wanted to be a part of all of it. 

He leaned his shoulder against the gym wall as he watched Hinata and Kageyama turn to a spiking competition to settle the score.

Kageyama had looked out for him, in his own gruff way. Daichi and Asahi had been there for him, had helped him understand. Each of his teammates cared about him and supported him. Even if it wasn’t in the way he wanted, Sugawara was immensely grateful to be a part of this team. 

Hinata leapt higher than his tiny frame should allow and exploded a spike into the back corner of the court. Both boys whooped excitedly, their disagreement forgotten in the thrill of the play.

Sugawara smiled. 

He was happy. 

He was proud.

Chapter Text

So far, it was a usual Wednesday. 

A basketball player that just got diagnosed with narcolepsy at ten. A tennis star with an eating disorder at noon. A session with a runner and his parents at four, to discuss treatment options for recent trauma. 

Dr. Tamura pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he reviewed the rest of his appointments for the day. 

His eyebrows raised slightly at his seven o’clock- a last minute call-in with an old patient of his. That’s right, he remembered. 

He had just gotten out of his lunch break yesterday when he got the call. The sleek black phone machine on his desk rang only once before he reached for it. 

“Dr. Tamura speaking,” he answered smoothly, looking at the painting on the wall across the room. A serene view of the Ishigaki shoreline looked back at him. 

His head tilted at the voice on the other side. “Ah, of course! It’s good to hear from you again. Yes yes, absolutely. I’d be glad to. Let me check what the rest of the week looks like.” He pushed his chair over to look at his desktop, mouse clicks punctuating the momentary silence.

“I have a cancellation tomorrow at seven, are you free then? Fantastic, I’ll let Mori-san know. She’ll have some paperwork for you to update. Great, I will see you then. Take care.” 

Dr. Tamura glanced at his watch. 7:01. 

A soft knock came at the door. 

Dr. Tamura smiled and shuffled papers off his desk. 

“Come on in, Oikawa-kun.” 

Oikawa stepped into the room, his anxious energy too wide for his grin to hide. 

“Doctor T. Ah.. hey.”

Dr. Tamura gestured towards the pair of armchairs in the room facing each other. They were tasteful: soft brown upholstery, plush and suede with dark wooden legs, chosen to look inviting without making the environment too casual.

“Please,” he said warmly.

Oikawa sat in the chair nearest the door. He bounced his leg as he looked around the room. 

“You haven’t changed your office much,” he observed.

Notebook in hand, Dr. Tamura sat down opposite him. “I try not to. Gives my patience a sense of normalcy and dependability. But I suppose it’s been a while since you’ve been here, hasn’t it Oikawa-kun?” He peered at the boy in front of him, his friendly eyes crinkled soft at the corners.  

In order to continue playing on his middle school volleyball team after the incident with Kageyama, Oikawa had agreed to a certain amount of sessions with a sports psychotherapist. Agreed being a fairly generous word to describe his willingness. 

This profession guaranteed Dr. Tamura a fair share of different personalities to work with. In his middle school years, Oikawa had been an especially precarious patient. Always pouting and deflecting. Always looking at the clock. He was like a loaded spring, tightly coiled until his mandated hour was up. 

Oikawa didn’t respond, other than a slight bow of his head. His hands were balled up firmly in his lap. 

“May I ask- what brings you here today? Forgive me- I am very happy you reached out, and I hope you will find this session useful. If I remember correctly, though, your opinion of therapy was that it was…” Dr. Tamura scratched his silvery mustache, trying to recall. “Ah. That therapy is for crazy people.” 

Oikawa flinched at the memory. He opened his mouth, but closed it after nothing came out. 

Dr. Tamura crossed his legs. “But that is the past. And here we are now in the present. I apologize if my question made you uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Oikawa finally said. He stared at the painting of Ishigaki. His eyes flicked back and forward, as if moving with the waves. “I know I was a brat back then. Still am, kinda.” 

“Watch the judgemental language, please, Oikawa-kun,” Dr. Tamura reminded him with a small smile. “Your apology is not necessary, but still heard and appreciated.” 

Oikawa’s shoulders untensed. Dr. Tamura watched him intently, making sure to give the boy his space to speak when he felt ready. 

“I want…” Oikawa began, his jaw working as he searched for the words. Dr. Tamura stayed silent. 

“I have. Trouble. With my emotions. They’re just so… big. I feel small in comparison sometimes.” 

He finally tore his eyes off the painting and looked at his therapist. 

“And the emotion I feel the most is… fear. Like I’m a failure and always will be, no matter how hard I try. So I overcompensate by acting really confident- on the court, around my friends, around most everyone. To the point that I can even FEEL how annoying I’m being. And I hate it. I hate it. I hate myself for hating myself.” 

He took a shaky breath before turning his gaze to his open palms. 

“I met somebody. Recently. Someone I like so goddamn much. And- and I found out that he likes me too. He likes me, as I am. I just…”

He glanced up, his eyebrows pinched.

“The way things happened made me realize that I have a lot more to work on than I thought. I want to learn how to stop the hate. I want to learn how to handle my emotions before they eat me alive. I want my pride in myself to be real, I want to mean it. I want to let myself feel proud. As I am. I want... to see me the way he does.”

Dr. Tamura smiled warmly as he shifted his notebook. 

“I admire your courage for coming in today and for telling me this. Neither could have been easy.” 

He pushed his glasses up one more time.

Oikawa had yet to look at the clock. 

“Let’s get to work, then, shall we?” 

______________________________

[you ever have a shit day that just]

[keeps getting shittier?]

[i really should have seen it coming when I forgot my breakfast on the counter]

[so thats on me ig]

Oikawa snorted as he read the last message. 

He and Sugawara had been texting back and forth all week. They talked about their days and traded complaints about their teammates’ antics. Oikawa was relentless in his questions about their date, partly because he was dying to know and partly because he knew his interest flattered Sugawara. 

His heart almost flipped inside out yesterday when Sugawara sent a picture of himself in pajamas. Oikawa spent the whole night wondering what it would be like to cuddle with the beautiful boy in soft green polka dots. To hold him and stroke his silvery hair, to be close enough for their words to be carried on whispers alone. He wanted to hear Sugawara laugh, to feel his whole body move around the laughter glittering out of him. 

His pillow was having an increasingly hard time filling the role. 

He had even set a distinct notification vibration for Sugawara. Two short taps from his phone made his face break into the dopiest grin. 

It was easy fodder for Iwaizumi, who felt he had earned the right after being such a model friend these past few months. 

“OW- Iwa-channn, whyy? ” Oikawa whined, rubbing his shoulder where his vice captain had punched him. 

Iwaizumi shrugged. 

“You’re making that face again. I needed to punch something and you just happened to be the nearest thing.” 

Hanamaki poked his head around the post of the net as he unfastened the straps. 

“Is this payback for all the times I made you listen to me gush about Mattsun?” he taunted. “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell us, but now I have to see you act like a puppy dog every time he texts you and I wanna barf.” 

“I didn’t even SAY anything!” pouted Oikawa. His shoulder was still sore. 

“You didn’t have to,” said Matsukawa from behind an armful of volleyballs. “Your face says it all.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “Damn, I’m so glad I have such nice and supportive friends.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, we love you and we’re happy for you and we’re proud of you for your first big boy relationship and we wish you two all the success,” Hanamaki waved a hand. 

“I’ve got half a mind to go to Karasuno right now and pay Sugawara off to tell you what the date is for Saturday. Would put me out of my misery once and for all, after having to hear you go on and on about what it might be,” added Iwaizumi with his usual scowl. 

Go to Karasuno right now...

Oikawa’s eyes widened gleefully. 

“What a delightful idea!” he sang as he walked over to his gym bag. 

Iwaizumi’s face darkened as he realized his mistake. “Wait- no, Oikawa, we’ve gotta go over the lineup for the Date Tech match with Coach once he finishes up with the first and second years-”

“I trust you, Iwa dear!” said Oikawa as he slung his bag on his shoulder and traipsed towards the door. “Just text me the final version and I’ll look it over!” 

Iwaizumi scoffed. “Oh my god, are you seriously ditching me? Jesus, Shittykawa, am I going to have to go back to hauling your dumb flirting ass back to your responsibilities?”

Oikawa scrunched his nose as he laid a hand on the gym door. 

“Relaaaax, I already talked to Coach before practice about my suggestions. He has my notes already...” 

He pushed the door open, but paused at the threshold. Warm air rushed to meet him. 

Throwing a patented grin over his shoulder, he added, “...like you said, I’ve grown a little bit!” 

After detonating a bomb, distance is key to survival. Oikawa sprinted out the door before Iwaizumi could register his remark. 

One second… two seconds… three…

He was already in the parking lot, but could already hear the distant “YOU WERE AWAKE??? FUCKING- GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT- CHRIST I AM GOING TO MAKE HIM REGRET THAT- FUCK!!! OH MY FUCKING GOD!!! ” over the crunching pavement under each strike of his heels, over the laughter bursting from his lungs. 

______________________________

Oikawa knew how to be nervous. 

He knew how to straighten the thin, trembling wires in his stomach and power himself on their energy. He knew how to still his entire mind like catching a breath and holding it there.

He didn’t get nervous every game. Just ones where he knew the stakes were a little higher, the odds a little slimmer. 

Sugawara had already given Oikawa a bouquet of firsts. It was disconcerting and refreshing all at once: Oikawa thought he'd done everything during his slew of half-baked romantic ventures. But with Sugawara, the firsts kept springing up. 

His first real crush, his first rejection (quasi or otherwise). His first surprise date. His first time being romantically involved with someone from another team. 

Standing at the door of the Karasuno volleyball practice gym, Oikawa was presented with yet another. 

For the first time, Oikawa was nervous about the snack he picked. 

He had deliberated in the convenience store along the route between their schools for as long as he possibly could. Eventually he had to choose and run; he was afraid the team’s practice would let out before he could make it there. 

But as he shifted his stance and reached for the door, he found himself fervently hoping Sugawara would like his choice. 

He didn’t have long to reflect.

In that instant, he found himself tumbling backwards. 

“WHOAH- Sorry, I didn’t see you there!” A freckled face was right in his own, his elbows caught in worried hands. Light brown eyes widened in recognition. “Oh- it’s you!” 

Yamaguchi helped Oikawa straighten himself. The plastic bag looped on Oikawa’s arm rustled with the movement. 

“Let go of him, Yamaguchi,” a bored voice behind them intoned. “I don’t think he’s here for us.” 

Yamaguchi gave out a small yelp accompanied with an apology, dropping Oikawa’s elbows like they were on fire. 

“No worries,” Oikawa grinned. He patted the top of Yamaguchi’s head, flattening the tuft at the top. Tsukishima scowled.

“Your friend is right- if you wouldn’t mind pointing me in the direction of your vice captain, I’ll consider us even,” Oikawa offered, still grinning.  

Yamaguchi beamed. “So it is true!” 

“He’s in the locker room. We’ll tell him you’re here,” said Tsukishima as he walked past, followed closely by Yamaguchi. 

Oikawa flashed a peace sign. “Thank youu~!” he sang. He leapt neatly up onto the ledge outside the gym and set the bag next to him. 

The afternoon had not yet given way to evening. Oikawa could hear the sounds of other practices going on, distant yet distinct. The clean clatter of a baseball hitting a bat. The pounding of feet against a track. And- 

“BOKE HINATA BOKE!!!!” 

Oikawa smirked to himself as he leapt back to the ground and peered into the gym.

There were the freak-quick first years: Hinata rubbing his back where he had fallen moments before, and Kageyama grumbling insults as he reached for another ball. 

They both paused when they saw Oikawa leaning on the doorframe. 

“GREAT KING!” cried Hinata excitedly. 

“Oikawa,” said Kageyama, his face a cross between frustration and confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Oikawa raised an eyebrow. “Your hospitality could use a little work, Tobio.” Kageyama clicked his teeth. “But if you must know, I’m here to see-” 

“Oikawa?” asked someone from behind. 

Oikawa turned. 

And there he was.

Right then, Oikawa realized that he hadn’t seen Sugawara since that ill-fated night.

But here he was, hair stained orange in the sunset. He had dark rings underneath his eyes, and his shirt was rumpled and damp. His chest rose and fell as he panted. One of his shoes was untied. 

He was stunning. 

Oikawa swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. 

“Suga. Hey.” 

Sugawara smiled fondly. 

“I thought they were lying as payback for the water guns, when they said you were here.”

“The what?”

Sugawara shook his head, still smiling. “Another time. So what’s up?” His nose scrunched up as he chuckled. “Couldn’t stand being the only one not giving a surprise?” 

Oikawa felt his legs moving forward. You’re real, you’re real. You’re real and you like me back. 

Sugawara’s eyes widened, and he let out a soft wheeze as Oikawa wrapped him in a hug. 

Oikawa squeezed, making Sugawara’s shoulders rumble with quiet laughter.

You’re real. You’re here. You like me back. Somehow these statements were even more wondrous as he held Sugawara in his arms. 

Sugawara tucked his hands up and around Oikawa’s back, balling his fingers into the fabric of the shirt. 

“You said you had a bad day. So I thought I’d come cheer you up,” Oikawa murmured into Sugawara’s hair. 

“Oh,” said Sugawara. His face was buried in Oikawa’s shoulder, the blush burning across it in secret. 

They stood there for a moment.

“We both smell pretty bad,” Sugawara pointed out. 

Oikawa scoffed playfully as he pulled back. “Rude!” 

“What!” Sugawara giggled. “Listen, I know you’re The Oikawa, Notorious Debonair and Master of Charm, but you smell awful right now.” 

Oikawa gasped and turned away. “Mean Sugaaa! I escaped my mean friends only to come to a Mean Suga!” 

Warm fingers threaded themselves between Oikawa’s.

He couldn’t keep up the act. As Sugawara’s palm met his own, it was all he could do to keep upright. 

Sugawara pulled at his hand to turn him around. 

“Thank you for coming. It means a lot to me,” he said softly. 

Neither of them let go.

Oikawa stared into Sugawara’s eyes. He was met with that same golden brown kindness from the first time they saw each other, except now it had grown into something else, something greater. 

Something like affection. 

Something like love. 

The sunset slipped to pink in the moment that hung between them. 

“Ah! Y-yeah! Of course. I brought you something, too.” Oikawa tried to calm the quaver in his voice as he broke away. 

He wanted to kiss Sugawara. Every bone in his body was aching for it. But he also wanted to kiss him at the right moment. Somehow the possibility of Sugawara’s teammates interrupting them was… less than the perfect moment. And a kiss with the prettiest boy he had ever seen, well. Oikawa thought it deserved far more than perfection. 

He jogged to the ledge and tossed the bag to Sugawara, who caught it in both hands.

Curious, Sugawara opened the plastic bag.

“You said you didn’t have breakfast, so I figured you could use something to eat. I didn’t know what kind of snacks you like, uh. Hopefully that’s okay.” Oikawa felt the nervousness flood in all over again as he walked back over to the other boy.

Sugawara stared into the bag for a moment longer, before looking up. 

“You got this for me?” 

“I-- yeah. I mean it’s just a couple power bars and a drink. I would have picked something more fun but I was strapped for time and figured you’d be strapped for calories after practi-” 

Sugawara stood up on the balls of his feet.

He kissed Oikawa’s cheek. 

Only a second passed before Sugawara pulled away, but that was all it took to shut down Oikawa's entire brain. 

He blinked. 

“You’re the best, Oikawa. Today is distinctly less shitty now,” Sugawara whispered earnestly, his dark eyes round in the dying sunlight. 

“OI! Oikawa!!” someone yelled from behind the pair. They both whipped around at the sound. 

Daichi was walking towards them at a clip.

“Was it you that taught Kenji how to sweep the leg??” he asked angrily. 

Oikawa squeaked.  

“And that’s my cue!! Bye Suga, see you Saturday!” he managed to wink before sprinting away from the second captain he had infuriated today. 

Sugawara smiled bemusedly and gave him a small wave. 

Oikawa didn’t stop until he reached the school gates, his frame heaving furiously as he gasped for air. He touched the pads of his fingertips to the spot where Sugawara’s lips had pressed.

It was such a simple gesture. One that asked for nothing in return.

Oikawa had been kissed in the past. But always on his lips, always by people searching for something he did not have. Asking for something he could not give.

Nobody had kissed Oikawa on the cheek before. 

He smiled wide between the ragged breaths. 

Another first.

Chapter Text

Sugawara toed off his shoes. 

“Hoooome,” he called wearily down the hall as he slouched his bags off his shoulder. “I brought Daichi with me.” 

He could hear the bustle of the kitchen, the laughter smoothed over the sizzling of dinner cooking on the stove. Somehow even with just him and his parents, the house never ceased to thrum with happiness and life. Though now a trim pair of black loafers in the genkan let him know they had an extra guest. 

He didn’t have to wonder who it was. The loud voice trailing behind his mothers' was announcement enough.

“Ah, welcome home! And Dachi, too, how wonderful! You boys come wash up, Midori and I were just getting dinner ready.” 

“Home for two minutes and she already has me slaving away on the stew, can you believe it Koukou?” 

Sugawara groaned as Daichi bit back a grin. They walked through the hallway, passing various framed photos as they went. The largest showed two gray haired children at the beach. Both proudly smiled behind a massive sand castle. The girl held up a pair of bunny ears behind the boy.    

“I told you to quit calling me that,” he chided his sister as they entered the warmly lit kitchen.

A snort in response.

“Yeah well. I told you not to touch my blue scarf and you chose not to listen, not to mention you spilled chocolate ice cream all over it, so. Koukou it is.”

Sugawara rolled his eyes. “I TOLD you, I thought it was mine! Plus that was like six months ago! Don’t you have anything better to do than hold petty grudges? Something about college? Working? Being an adult?”

“Hi Daichi,” Midori greeted the boy warmly as she turned around, completely ignoring her brother. 

Sugawara’s sister was taller than him (by seven inches, she was very firm on the articulation). She leaned one hand casually over a cutting board and held a wine glass in the other. 

Even though Midori was three years older and seven inches taller, she and Sugawara looked similar enough to be mistaken for twins. The siblings had the same soft features, the same roundness of the eyes, the same smattering of dark freckles lining their limbs. 

A sleek ponytail held back her gray hair in a way that made her look like a fashionable art curator, dressed in tailored black slacks and a dark grey blouse tucked neatly at the waist. She had the signature freckle, too, underneath the opposite eye. Her eyes were more green than brown, but her smile was identical to her brother’s. 

Daichi cleared his throat.

“Hey, Midori-san,” he managed. 

“How was practice, you two?” Sugawara’s mother emerged from the porch, several trimmed herbs and a pair of shears curled in her hand. She was an avid gardener and had insisted on both her children learning the basics when they were growing up. Sugawara held far more of an interest than his sister. He didn’t mind the dirt, and loved the smell of rain on the vegetable plants. 

His mother’s hair was more white than gray at this point, pure snow falling down from her temples around her face. She was far older than most other parents Sugawara knew. But she had a friendly glow about her that came from years of biking and swimming and being kind to strangers. 

“It was good,” Sugawara stretched his arms high above his head. “Each day I feel better about our chances at Nationals. Right, Dai-san?” 

Daichi nodded firmly.

Something hissed on the stove. Sugawara's mother tutted as she dropped some herbs into the pot Midori had been halfheartedly stirring. “Midori, don’t let the bottom get scorched.” She turned again, facing the two boys. “Your father’s going to be late, something about performing an emergency surgery that can’t wait until the morning. Why don’t you boys clean up so we can eat?” 

Sugawara gave a thumbs up and headed towards the stairs. Daichi followed.

“Don’t take five years,” Midori shouted after them. “I’m hungry.”

“I’ll be sure to do an extra round of deep conditioner just for your sake,” Sugawara called back before shutting his door. 

______________________________

“You can take the shower first, Dai,” said Sugawara as he flopped onto his bed. The frame beneath creaked its protest, but Sugawara didn't move.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, dude, have at it.” 

“Cool, oka- whoahhhh,” Daichi paused, already halfway out the door. “What the hell happened to your closet?” 

Sugawara rolled on his side to look at his closet. Or what was left of it, anyways. 

Half his clothes were jumbled in piles on the floor. The rest hung on hangers that jutted out at dangerous angles, threatening to fall. 

“Oh. Right.”

Daichi stared at the twisted mountains of sweaters and shirts. 

“Going through a style change?” he joked. “I’ve been wondering when you were going to give up the ‘cool dad’ shirt. Seeing as you are... y’know. Not a dad.” 

Sugawara scoffed as he sat up. “Fuck you, I’m never giving up that shirt. It’s my favorite. I just..” he turned towards the closet, his ears burning slightly. “I was just trying to figure out what to wear tomorrow.” 

Daichi frowned. “Tomorrow? What’s tomorr- OH! The date!”

The word alone was enough to make Sugawara’s pulse quicken. How on earth was his heart supposed to survive the real thing?

A pillow clamped over Sugawara's face dampened his response.

“Yeah. The date."

“The date?” asked an incredulous voice from outside the room. 

Shit. 

“Ah, Midori-san. Didn’t.. Didn’t see you there.” Daichi shifted, pulling at the towel slung over his shoulder. 

Midori pressed past him and slammed her hands on the doorframe. “Sugawara Koushi, you have a date and didn’t think to tell me?” 

Sugawara groaned. He had been avoiding this. 

“I was going to tell you,” he tried to explain. “I just… I’ve been so wrapped up in volleyball, and...I.. just kind of...”

Midori folded her arms. Her shoulders squared back as she searched her brother's face.

“You forgot,” she supplied frostily.

The temperature in the room dropped at least five degrees.

Sensing the impending snowstorm, Daichi inched away from the siblings. “I’m just gonna go… shower now…” 

“No you are not. Get back in here.” Midori pointed into the room. 

Daichi blushed and wordlessly obeyed.

“Clearly I can’t get answers from my brother, so you’re gonna tell me instead,” she demanded.

“Midiii, don’t torment him like that," Sugawara groaned from his bed. "I’ll answer anything you wanna know. Let the poor guy shower.” 

“No! Who knows if you’ll just conveniently ‘forget’ again,” her silver bracelet jingled slightly as she threw air quotes around the word. She turned to his friend, who pointedly did not meet her eye. 

“Daichi.”

Daichi looked like he was about to collapse into the pile of clothes on the floor.

“Y-yes.” 

“Who’s he going on a date with?”

“I don’t really like being talked about when I’m right here,” Sugawara grumbled. 

“Tough,” deadpanned Midori. “Now who is it?” She leaned on the doorframe as she addressed Daichi.

“...Oikawa Tooru. Aoba Josai’s captain,” answered Daichi with an apologetic look towards his best friend. 

Midori’s eyes widened in delight. “Ooooh, Kou!! Seeing someone on another team? How traitorous and fun! Like Romeo and Juliet… I love this, tell me more. Is this their first date?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I see a picture of him? I might remember him from going to one of your matches.” 

“I don’t think I have any photos of him, sorry,” said Daichi as he fiddled with the hem of the towel.

Midori turned to her brother.

Sugawara lifted his chin in defiance. “No.” 

“What! Come on, Kou. Just one!”

“Let Daichi go and I’ll show you one.”

“Fine. Daichi, you can go shower. Thanks for your help.”

Relieved, Daichi grabbed his bag and hurried out of the room. 

Midori came and sat next to Sugawara as he tapped through his phone.

“Did you really forget to tell me?” she asked softly, the bossiness drained out from her tone. 

Sugawara paused. 

“I really want it to go well, Midi. I guess I just felt like if I told our family beforehand I’d jinx it, a little bit. I’m sorry.” 

The bed shifted as Midori leaned over to ruffle her brother’s hair. 

Sugawara continued after swatting her hand away. "Plus... you had a habit of stalking my old crushes online before I even got the chance to really know them. I couldn't ask what their favorite movie was in 2007 because I already knew from your super sleuthing."

He chuckled as Midori playfully jabbed her elbow into his side. 

“Hey, I just look out for my little brother. But I pinky swear I'll leave this one be. You like him a lot, don’t you?”

Sugawara blushed. He glanced down at all the texts from Oikawa: selfies, cute messages of encouragement sent at three in the morning, pictures of his cat, asking how Sugawara's day was, gushing about the new bakery that had opened down the street.

Little bits of Oikawa stored in his phone, like pretty seashells poking out of the sand. 

“Very much,” he whispered. After a pause, he added, "And I just... I'm afraid."

Midori frowned. "What are you afraid of?"

"He's amazing, Midi, and I just... I'm just me. I'm a regular guy, and-"

His shoulder's tightened, winding themselves around the pit of emotion in his chest. 

"Kou." 

"What?"

Sugawara stared blankly at his closet. 

"Look at me."

Sugawara turned. Their eyes met, brown to brown. 

"You are the most impressive person I know."

Sugawara couldn't hold back his snort. 

"No. I'm serious." Midori rested a hand on his shoulder, her eyebrows pinched. 

"Okay, okay." 

"You are, Kou. Daichi is a good kid. But he wouldn't be able to run that team without your help. Your underclassmen look up to you. Even now, with..." She trailed off, searching for the right way to phrase it.

"...With things as they are, you are an important member of your team. You're an important member of this family. You are a fantastic friend. You are kind, and caring, and thoughtful, and hilarious, and far too hard on yourself. Whoever this boy is? He's the luckiest in the god damn world for being the one with your affections. Now, whether he's worthy of them, ehh....." She shrugged and grinned at him. "Yet to be determined." 

Sugawara's smile was faint, but still there. 

"Remember how mom used to put all our achievements on the fridge?" she asked him.

He nodded his response. "You used to always get angry, because I had more space on the fridge than you." 

They both chuckled. 

"I know I'm biased, Kou, but it doesn't matter how amazing this guy is- you are amazing too. You're an amazing person. And I'm lucky to have you as my brother." 

Sugawara's face pinched. "Are you trying to make me cry?"

"Maybe," she replied, sticking her tongue out. 

Another chuckle.

"Thanks Midi." 

Midori always knew what to say to make him feel better. She was one of the few people who could sense his moods, who could fully understand when he was upset about something that mattered to him. Like a finely tuned barometer, sensing anytime his internal pressure started to skyrocket underneath his sunny exterior. 

He thought about his team. His underclassmen. How far Hinata had come, that had been with his help too. 

He thought about all those hard-earned points he had clawed out of their opponent's grip, game after game. All those cheers for his teammates, his throat run raw with the effort. All the notes he had mentally compiled as he made the best of the situation he was in. 

He thought about Oikawa. Oikawa, who liked him back. Oikawa, who was never joking about it. 

All these thoughts scrubbed at the black tar in his core, slowly melting away the oily feelings of inadequacy. 

He wasn't a genius, by any stretch of the definition. 

But maybe Oikawa was right. He could still learn to be proud. 

He found what he was looking for on his phone, and handed it to Midori. 

“Oh my god. KOU. He’s so cute! God, wait til I tell Ichika you landed such a hot date! Where are you guys going tomorrow?” she exclaimed as she pinched the picture to zoom in, admiring Oikawa’s selfie he had sent the day before. (Sugawara had to hand it to the guy, he was phenomenal at taking good pictures of himself. Each selfie he received from the Seijoh captain flung his heart up against his teeth.)

“Who’s Ichika…?” 

Midori froze like a child caught in a lie. 

“Ah, ahaha. About that.” She scratched her chin as she avoided his eyes. “Remember my old roommate?”

“Um. The one with like a hundred books..? I remember you calling and complaining about how many books she had, and that she was annoying and you hated her guts.” 

“W-well… we’re kind of... Going out now.” 

Sugawara’s jaw dropped. 

Somehow in the quiet half-moment before his reaction, he found a space to pity his best friend. It wouldn’t have worked out anyways, but he still felt bad for Daichi.

This speculation, however, only lasted for that half-moment. 

“You- YOU-- WHAT????? All this fuss about me not saying I have a DATE and you have a full on GIRLFRIEND without telling ME ??? MIDI WHAT THE FUCK --” 

The argument was far too loud to be muffled by a flight of stairs. Sugawara’s mother smiled fondly as she sipped her wine. 

She supposed that nobody be ready to eat soon.

Shears in hand once more, she chuckled and headed for the garden. 

Perhaps the strawberry patch would be ready sooner.

______________________________

Oikawa’s cheek felt cool against the gym floor. He tried not to think about how dirty it was, or that it might make him break out tomorrow, the day he could not bear to have any such blemish on his face. 

Either way, it was a small sort of respite from the five children sitting on his back. 

“We want a ride, Oikawa-sensei!!” a tiny voice was chanting. 

“Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride!” the chorus echoed. 

Oikawa groaned softly. 

“I can only give one of you a ride around the gym at a time, plus all of you have already gotten three rides. I think my legs will fall off if I run any more.” 

“Boooo!” The chorus gave their squealed disapproval as hands pressed themselves into his shoulder blades. 

A pair of sneakers stepped in front of Oikawa’s face. 

“Oh, what’s that? Mika-sensei has extra popsicles she’s giving out to well-behaved kids?” the sneakers' owner shouted. 

Oikawa winced as the squirming pile of children screamed and dismounted his back, all arguing over who was the best behaved.

He sat up, rubbing his calf where someone had stepped on it. 

“Ah, Kai-kun! You saved me, thank you!” Oikawa beamed as he smoothed out his shirt. 

Kai nodded solemnly, watching the mob sprint to the other side of the gym. “Diversion tactics work best on Kenji. I don’t think Haru would have fallen for it.” He fiddled with his fingers. 

Oikawa was suddenly reminded of an observant dark-haired boy who did the same thing with his hands. He chuckled.

“You’re very analytical, Kai. Have you considered being a setter? I know I’m biased, but it’s the best position on the court. I think you’d be great at it.” 

Kai’s cheeks reddened ever so slightly as he looked at his coach.

“Like you?” 

Oikawa beamed at the boy as he stood, brushing off the dust that had collected on his palms and knees. “Yeah, like me.” 

“Like Suga-san, too!” piped up someone from behind. 

Oikawa turned to see Haru and Ren, both holding equally drippy popsicles. It was the end of a two-week training program for the kids, so they had gotten to run around and eat popsicles for most of practice today. That, and use Oikawa as their own jungle gym.

Haru's cheeks were stained bright purple. She grinned, sticky sugar sweet. “Suga-san is a setter too! But I’m going to be just like Dai, and he isn’t a setter, so neither am I.” 

Oikawa squatted down on the balls of his feet and smiled at the smallest Sawamura. 

“That’s right, I forgot you knew Suga! He is a good setter, isn’t he,” he agreed brightly. 

Ren studied him as she bit into her popsicle. Her face wasn't nearly as messy as her sisters, but a small ring of orange had stained itself around her lips. 

“Oikawa-sensei, are you friends with Suga-san?” Ren asked. 

Oikawa’s smile faltered for a moment. He straightened to his full height so his reaction would be harder to see. 

“Ah, well! Yeah, we’re… close,” he replied, making sure to keep his voice as smooth as before. 

“But Dai is his best friend,” pointed out Haru. “Suga-san told me himself.”

“So you can’t be that close, then,” Ren wondered out loud as she continued to stare at Oikawa. 

Kai rolled his eyes.

“You don’t have to be best friends with someone to be close to them, dummy. There are all different types of ways to be close to people. Like I’m your brother.” 

Haru's mouth formed a small purple o as she gasped.  “Are you Suga-san’s brother???” 

Oikawa laughed amusedly as he sat down on the gym floor again. He reached for a stray ball and set it to Kai. 

“No, we aren’t brothers.” 

Kai shifted his stance to receive the toss. He really would be a good setter, observed Oikawa. He watched the concentration filling the young boy's face as he set the ball back. 

“So he’s just your friend..?” asked Ren. 

“Kind of,” Oikawa said carefully. He wasn’t sure how much of his love life he should be talking about with the kids, but Daichi’s siblings felt like a slight exception. 

He passed back to Kai, intentionally sending it short so the boy would have to run to get under it. 

“ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH SUGA-SAN? LIKE DAI IS IN LOVE WITH SUGA-SAN'S SISTER?” someone shouted in his ear as small arms wrapped around his shoulders. “WE READ IN HIS DIARY ABOUT HER, BUT I DON’T THINK SHE LIKES HIM BACK. OH, ALSO! WHO IS IWAIZUMI?” 

Oikawa ducked his head forward to protect his ears from the noise. The loud din of the gym around them panned out slightly as his ears stopped ringing. He twisted sideways to meet two bright brown eyes staring directly into his own. 

“Hey, Kenji-kun, ah-”

“Kenj. Don’t yell in his ear, you’ll make him go deaf,” Kai admonished his little brother, the volleyball tucked under his arm. 

Kenji stuck out his tongue and scrambled across Oikawa’s knees to sit in front of him. 

“Well? Is it true?” Kenji persisted. He had lost his two front baby teeth in the past week. Oikawa had a suspicion they hadn't fallen out on their own.

Sweat suddenly pricked at Oikawa's neck, and not from the laps he had been doing with various thirty pound weights on his back earlier. 

“Is- sorry, you said a lot of things and I didn’t hear all of them,” admitted Oikawa. 

“Do you love him? Suga-san?” 

Oikawa glanced around nervously. Four pairs of eyes met him with the utmost curiosity. 

The gym around them vibrated with happy shrieks from loose children, like animals freed in a zoo. Oikawa cleared his throat. 

“Ah, love is... A strong word... I do like him, though, if that’s what you mean…”

All eyes widened. 

“Ohhh, you’re his boyfriend!” exclaimed Kenji, happy to have the mystery solved. 

Oikawa rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure how to articulate that he and Sugawara weren’t officially dating. Yet, at least. 

“He is! He is! Look, Sensei is blushing!” Haru pointed excitedly at Oikawa’s face. A small chunk of purple dripped onto her hand. She didn't notice.  

“Have you held hands yet?” Kenji whispered insistently, his face a mix of horror and intrigue. Romance was a strange concept to him. He preferred fire-belly newts and climbing things his oldest brother didn’t want him to climb. 

“Kenji, don’t be rude.” Ren frowned at her brother, then at Oikawa. “But if he dates you then he’ll play with us less....” A braid had snuck its way into her palm, the way it always did when she was anxious or worried. She tugged at it. 

Oikawa laughed, thinking about how much of a responsibility headache Daichi must get from the five of them combined. “Don’t worry, he’ll still play with you plenty. Maybe we could even get him to play a match with us, if you ask nicely. I'm sure he's got some pointers he could share.” 

Ren’s face softened at this assurance. 

Kenji pressed his sticky hands onto Oikawa’s knees, leaning forward insistently. 

“What about the girl? And who is Iwaizumi?”

Weighing his options, Oikawa chewed the inside of his lip. He decided against lecturing the four about reading their brother’s diary. Somehow he felt like meddling even further would get him into hot water with Daichi again. Plus, he was incredibly curious... 

“I don’t know Suga’s sister, maybe he likes her? But I do know Iwaizumi- how do you know him?” 

Kenji exchanged looks with his siblings. Ren and Haru nodded in sync. Kai simply shrugged.

“Uh… Dai said in his diary that he has a nice butt. And pretty eyes.” 

Oikawa had to willfully shut his mouth after it flung itself wide open. 

“He said that about Iwa? ”

Kenji nodded vigorously. “And that… um. He looks cute when he’s mad.” 

Pure excitement started to balloon in Oikawa’s chest. Christ, he couldn’t wait to tell Sugawara. They could be matchmakers together. This was going to be absolutely delightful. 

The sharp blow of a whistle pulled everyone's attention towards the center of the gym.

Several coaches were calling for everyone to pick up whatever trash they could find before collecting the balls and finishing for the day. 

Oikawa got to his feet again. “Don’t worry, small Sawamuras! We’ll talk more.” The younger three scattered about, fervently collecting bits of popsicle wrappers after they heard that whoever collected the most trash would get a prize. 

Oikawa started to walk towards the other coaches. He felt a small tug on his sleeve. 

He turned. 

Kai was holding onto his t-shirt, looking in the opposite direction. He mumbled something Oikawa couldn’t hear. 

“Sorry, Kai-kun, what was that? It’s so loud in here.”

The blonde boy shifted slightly closer to Oikawa, his eyes trained on the ground. 

“I.. please help me be a setter. I want to be like you and Suga-san.” 

Oikawa’s cheeks hurt from the smile that spread across them. He patted Kai softly on the shoulder. 

“Of course. I’d be happy to.”

Chapter Text

When Sugawara was little, he loved to watch his favorite TV show with Midori after school: a vibrant cartoon that snuck moral lessons in from time to time. At the tail end of each episode, the main character would wave over the cheerful outro music and say, “Don’t forget to learn something today!” 

This became Sugawara and Midori’s favorite thing to say to each other. They used it as a joke during their backyard brawls, a sarcastic quip as one of them left for school. 

The show had long since been discontinued. But the saying had developed that sort of fondness that only strengthens over time, so when they said it now it was more of a tradition than anything else. 

That Saturday, Sugawara learned many somethings. 

The first was that green was his energy color.

Closely followed by the second: what the hell an energy color even was. 

“Kou, keep up,” Midori frowned as she snapped with one hand, the other gracefully skimming through the clothes still on his hangers. “It’s the color that fits your personality, that you look the best in. You, like.. Subconsciously surround yourself with it. Look, you’ve got at least five green sweaters,” she jabbed her thumb towards towards a heap behind her. 

Sugawara groaned. 

“I can’t wear a sweater. It’s too hot outside.” 

The metallic click of the hangers did not stop as his sister continued her search. 

“None of those are right for your date anyways. We need…” she trailed off in her examination of a crisp grey button down.

Sugawara glanced at his phone. He had opted to sit on the floor; his limbs were exhausted after modeling countless outfits for his sister to veto. 

His screen lit up with a notification, causing his heart to stumble. He tapped on it. 

[I’m super excited for tonight! We’re still meeting at the station, right? :)] 

Midori turned, her hand on her chin. “We need something that suits your- oh my god grooooss,” she whined. 

Sugawara looked up from typing his response. His brows furrowed as the smile slid off his face. 

“What, another critique of my t-shirts?” 

“No. I can just tell when you’re texting him. Everything about you gets…” She gestured vaguely towards him. “Gooey.”

Sugawara rolled his eyes. “Gooey,” he repeated flatly.

“Listen, you asked for my help with outfits.” 

The pile of clothes behind Sugawara had stacked up from all Midori's vetos. He flopped back onto it.

“I asked you if you thought the outfit I had on already looked good. That was about 14 outfits ago,” he countered. 

“Well, you clearly need my help! That striped shirt with the plaid pants was not it, Kou. Here-” she tossed another bundle of clothes at his chest. “I have a good feeling about this one.” 

Sugawara groaned again, but got to his feet. “You said that about at least three of them before.” 

“I have an especially good feeling about this one, smartass! Now goooo!” The heels of her palms met his back as she shoved him out the door in the direction of the bathroom. 

Midori sat on her brother’s bed. Sunlight fell through the slats on the window, casting neat stripes over the hurricane of clothes strewn everywhere.

Her eyes roamed over the room. A couple pictures sat framed on his desk in front of a huge calendar. Each of his events for the month were noted and color coded. Blue for school. Orange for volleyball. Pink for tutoring. Today's square was titled in green: 'Date with Oikawa!' with several circles looped around it.

Sugawara was certainly more organized, between the two of them. She could always tell when he was stressed out about something important. His tidy room turned into a nightmare pit. 

Like it was right now. 

Midori sighed. 

Before, the only thing that made Sugawara act like this was volleyball. She tucked her hair behind her ear as she glanced at a photo of him grinning with his teammates. 

It was fitting that he fell for someone who loved the sport just as much as he did. 

Despite her promises not to snoop, last night Midori told herself a teeny search wouldn’t hurt. Just to quell her curiosity. 

She didn’t even have to dig. Her eyes widened in the glow of her phone after a simple search: Oikawa Tooru.

Awards. Magazine highlights. Interviews. Video clips of top upcoming high school players in Japan. The whole page illuminated with that high wattage grin, trimmed with teal and white. 

Midori rolled a volleyball out of her way to shift further back on the bed. 

They seemed suited for each other, really. Oikawa and her brother. Just as passionate, just as driven. She knew it bothered Sugawara, not getting to play as much as he wanted. She admired him for quitting when he had every right to. When she probably would have. 

Sugawara was guarded about his feelings, and always had been. He was a bright and happy child. But when it came to things he truly cared about, he didn't often let his emotions show. Like a clam clutching its favorite pearls deep inside. She was surprised he had opened up to her yesterday, and unprompted at that. 

He had confided in her about several fleeting crushes before. Some guy in his calculus class. A teammate from his middle school. The barista at the nearby coffee shop. 

His room stayed fastidiously clean for all of them. 

Midori huffed out an amused laugh to herself as she picked up the volleyball, twirling it between her hands. 

“About time you fell in love with something other than this sport, Kou,” she muttered fondly.

______________________________

Floorboards outside the bedroom creaked tentatively. 

“Midori,” said Sugawara. 

Midori sat up. Gasped. 

“Oh my god. Yeah. This is the one.”

Still unsure, Sugawara shifted his stance. “Really?”

She stood, walked over to her brother. Smoothed out his shirt. 

“You’re going to knock this poor boy dead. He literally is not gonna know what hit him,” she assured him with a warm smile. 

Nervous tension unwound itself from around Sugawara’s shoulders. 

“I like him a lot,” he whispered, his cheeks burning. 

Midori tilted her head as she glanced at his room.

Three empty coffee cups formed a small tower on his dresser, right next to a stack of important-looking papers. A thick black hoodie had made its home on top of his lamp. 

“I know.” 

 ______________________________

The third thing Sugawara learned that day was how to make onigirazu. His mother was an excellent cook, and an even better teacher. 

 ______________________________

The fourth thing Sugawara learned that day was to never trust trains to come on time. He sprinted through the station, through the gates, through the crowd of idle shoulders in his way, a thousand different threads pulled in a million different directions, until- 

 ______________________________

The fifth thing Sugawara learned was how beautiful Oikawa looked when he didn’t know anyone was watching. 

 ______________________________

“Oikawa!” Sugawara panted, his breath too short for a longer greeting. 

Oikawa turned. His face softened when he saw who was calling his name.

Sugawara was already flustered enough. He wanted everything to go perfectly, and running late was less than a perfect start. 

But here was Oikawa, making him even more flustered. Standing there in tailored grey jeans and a button down with the sleeves rolled up, his hand tucked carefully in his pockets. Grinning at Sugawara and Sugawara alone.

Oikawa took his hands out of his pockets and stretched his arms out for a hug. 

Sugawara ran right into it.

Several giggles burst out around them; one person even let out a soft aww.

Oikawa only squeezed him tighter. He smelled like pine trees. 

“I’m so sorry for being late,” said Sugawara as he pulled back to look at the other boy. “They were doing some kind of construction, all the trains were backed up… Ah, what a bad start to my surprise,” he frowned as he looked away. 

Oikawa's smile only brightened.

He stepped back and took Sugawara’s hand. 

“I really don’t mind, Suga. I was running a little late anyways. My hair was misbehaving.” He shrugged. “Plus… I’d have waited far longer if it meant I still got to see you looking this good.” He glanced wryly at Sugawara, who had turned a brilliant crimson. 

Dark green trousers, a soft white t-shirt, and his favorite brown leather boots. Sugawara owed his sister a favor, apparently. 

“Ah,” was all Sugawara could manage. But Oikawa didn’t seem to mind. 

He chuckled and pulled at Sugawara’s hand gently, leading him out to the street. 

“So,” Oikawa threw a smile over his shoulder as the sunshine fell on the pair. “Where we headed, Number Two?” 

 ______________________________

Oikawa might have a heart condition. 

Surely. 

That was the only explanation. 

He swallowed, again. Another failed attempt to shove his heart back down in his chest where it belonged. 

He had spent all week excitedly waiting for today. Longer than this week, if he was being perfectly truthful. 

All his charms and schemes hadn’t budged Sugawara one bit. Oikawa still had no clue where they were going until they got there. 

And here they were. 

“Oikawa?” 

Oikawa blinked. Apparently all his basic functions had to be performed manually today.

Sugawara was staring at him expectantly, two of his fingers hooked around the strap of his bag. Oikawa still didn’t know what was inside. His slickest moves hadn’t cracked Sugawara’s resolve, though they did get him adorably flustered.

“Sorry, I zoned out.” 

My body stops working sometimes when I'm around you. 

“That’s okay,” said Sugawara kindly. “I was just asking if you were hungry.” 

Their hands were still clasped together. Neither of them had let go since the station. 

“Hmmm… are you hungry?” Oikawa responded.

“I asked you first.”

“Fine, fine. Not really, yet. Let’s keep walking a little bit.” 

Everything was green. Oikawa hadn’t seen the color so vividly in his entire life. Lush splotches of leaves hung over their head, drowning the sky's blue with the greenness. All kinds of shoots and bushes and trailing vines blossomed magnificently along the sides of the trail. Birds sang the evening news as the sun shone sweetly through the canopy high above. 

It was silent for a moment, save for the crunching of the gravel and the gossiping of the birds. 

“How did you find this place?” Oikawa asked. 

Sugawara smiled. 

“My dad used to take me here.” 

 They stepped over a large log that had fallen across the path.

“It’s beautiful. I never knew there was somewhere like this nearby.” 

“We can come again sometime, if you’d like.” 

Oikawa scoffed sarcastically. 

“Ohh, presumptuous aren’t we? Already thinking of the second date, hm, Koushi? ” he teased. 

Sugawara’s eyes widened for only a moment before his lips twisted into a grin.

“This date’s not over yet. I still have more surprises. And I have a feeling you already want to see me again, Tooru.” 

Oikawa might have toppled over if he wasn't still holding Sugawara’s hand. 

God, I might really fall in love with this boy. 

“I… like that,” Oikawa mumbled. 

Sugawara’s grin twisted further. He cocked his head far to the side. 

“Hm? What did you say? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. He leaned down close to Sugwara’s ear. 

“I said, I like how you say my name,” he whispered. 

This time Sugawara’s eyes stayed wide. He turned his face away from Oikawa, who could still see the blush blooming across it. 

“Okay, Tooru,” said Sugawara quietly. Reverently. Like a prayer. 

 ______________________________

Rain rarely falls when it’s asked to.

“Fuck, fuck- fucking- god,” cried an exasperated Sugawara, one hand gripped on his bag and the other on his date. His hair was plastered to his forehead. 

The storm beat down on both their backs. They were both sprinting along a sidewalk somewhere. Oikawa had no bearing on his location.

 All he knew right now was the pounding of his feet against the wet pavement, the freeze building in his spine, and the firm clasp of Sugwara’s hand. 

 ______________________________

The date was going fantastically until the rain intruded. 

They had been walking on the trail for only a short while before the woods opened up to a small park. Sugawara lead him through its paths until they started to hear the telltale bustle of a crowd. Oikawa spotted several pinpricks of light through the trees. 

“Where are we go...” OIkawa began to ask, but his question was already answered when they walked down a set of stairs and onto a side street. 

Lanterns softened the sides of the road with their glow. 

Colorful slips of paper fluttered in the bamboo trees. 

Vendor stalls formed the coast on one side of the street, the large tide of people shifting alongside it. 

Only then did Oikawa realize he had been so focused on his date, he had forgotten about the date. 

“A Tanabata festival,” he whispered in awe, his face awash in color and sound. 

Sugawara grinned as he watched the other boy. 

“Pretty good surprise?” he asked.

Oikawa tore his eyes away from an elaborate streamer decoration down the street. 

He squeezed Sugawara's hand. 

“Amazing surprise, Koushi.” 

Sugawara blushed, and hoisted his bag higher on his shoulder. 

“I made food, too. We could always grab something from a stall, as well, if anything looks good.” 

Oikawa’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Is that what’s in the bag?” 

“Yes,” Sugawara chuckled. 

“You made food? For our date?” 

“Y-yes?” 

Oikawa clasped both of Sugawara’s hands in his. 

“God, I could kiss you!” he exclaimed happily, before his face froze. “I mean! Uh!” 

Sugawara's lips quirked in amusement.

“I think we ought to make our wishes first, Tooru,” he teased. “C’mon.” 

With that, they made their way through the happy glow of the crowd.

 ______________________________

“Where are we going, Koushi?” Oikawa yelled over the rain. 

They had been running for a while. His joints were starting to hurt. 

Sugawara came to a sudden stop. Oikawa almost slipped in his efforts to not run into him. 

“...Koushi? What-” 

Sugawara’s head was lowered. 

It was hard to tell he was crying at first, his tears trailed right into the rain pouring down his face. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Oikawa leaned down, cupping Sugawara’s chin in his free hand. Sugawara’s shoulders only shuddered in response. His tears fell silently as he tried to look away. 

A raindrop landed in Oikawa’s ear. He winced. “Shit, uh- I don’t think we can stay out here.” 

Oikawa looked around, trying to make sense of the street they were on. 

Through the shifting downpour, he could make out a building he recognized. A building he knew very well. 

Oikawa took Sugawara’s hand again.

“C’mon. Let’s get you dry.” 

Sugawara said nothing, but followed Oikawa as he led them down the street, through a gate, and towards a large building. 

Oikawa fumbled his keys when he pulled them out of his pocket.

“Damn it,” he cursed into the unrelenting drone of the storm crashing down around them. 

Finally his rain-chilled fingers found the right key and jammed it into the door. He flung it open and led Sugawara to the safe indoors. 

 ______________________________

Oikawa rummaged through his bag. 

“Here,” he said softly as he draped a towel around Sugawara’s shoulders. 

He hadn’t thought he would be back in his locker room before Tuesday. 

“Uh… and.” Oikawa held out a pile of clothes. “I usually keep a couple spares of stuff in my locker. I’ll show you where the showers are. Both of our teams will probably murder us if we catch a cold,” he joked lamely. 

Sugawara reached out slowly with pale fingers. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Oikawa frowned, and placed his hands on Sugawara’s shoulders. 

“What are you sorry for?” 

“It was supposed to be perfect.” 

This was the same sadness Oikawa had seen in the lobby on that moonlit night. Sugawara looked… small. Defeated. 

“Koushi,” said Oikawa quietly. 

Sugawara looked up. His eyes were pink at the edges. 

“Yeah?”

“This was the best day ever.” 

Sugawara looked like he might cry again, but the smallness subsided a little. He sniffled. 

“Bullshit.”

“No. I’m serious.” 

“I might have given you pneumonia,” said Sugawara with a pained look. 

Oikawa snorted. How ironic, finding someone as stubborn as himself. 

“As far as I’m aware, you don’t control the rain. Unless you do. In which case, holy shit, how do you do that?”

He earned the faintest smile from the shivering boy in front of him. 

“But let’s go hit the showers before we get sick, because again, I really don’t need to give Iwa another reason to lecture me.” 

This time he received a huff of a laugh. 

Sugawara relented. 

“Alright.” 

 ______________________________

Oikawa stood in the dark gym. He was still damp, but at least now the dampness was due to a hot shower instead of the frigid rain. 

The storm was persistent. It sounded like static against the roof, echoing against the high walls of the gym. 

He walked towards the door he knew the lights were by, but then paused. 

Oikawa was the captain of the volleyball team, sure. He had been given the keys to the practice gym. And he had even made friends with a couple of the security guards that sporadically roamed the halls, drawn to the sound of his serves slamming against the floor long after practice had ended. 

He was fairly certain nobody came this time on a Saturday. Especially in the rain, on a festival day.

But turning on all the lights felt like sending up a flare signal for even more bad luck. 

As he stood deliberating, his vision slowly adjusted to the dark. The lofted windows let in some light. Even if it was only the light off those angry thunderclouds. 

The gym was surreal like this. Empty, dim, still. Sleepily waiting for its players to return. 

“Tooru? Are you in here?” called Sugawara from the hallway.

“Yeah- come on in,” he called back. 

“Jesus, I can’t see for shit,” Sugawara said as he walked with his hands out in front of him. 

Oikawa laughed. He met Sugawara at the middle of the court, where the other boy startled slightly at Oikawa’s hand against his arm. 

“Oh! Man, this is an embarrassing way for you to find out I don’t really like the dark,” Sugawara admitted. He was wearing a Seijoh gym shirt and some of Oikawa's volleyball shorts.

Oikawa hoped he never got those clothes back. They looked far too good on Sugawara, knowing they were his own.

Mine, he let himself think selfishly. Only for a moment. 

He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry, your eyes will get used to it in a second. How was your shower?”

Sugawara stretched his arms and fluffed his still-damp hair with a hand. 

“Fantastic. I feel five years younger.” 

“Here,” Oikawa pressed a strap into his palm. “I toweled off the outside- I think everything is still dry.” 

He watched Sugawara’s fingers trace the lines of the object. 

“Oh,” Sugawara said as he realized what it was. “Honestly, I’m… kind of starving.” 

Oikawa giggled. “Me too. Do you wanna eat?”

“What, here?”

“You have something against my gym?” Oikawa teased as he took the bag back from Sugawara. 

“No, I meant- well. I guess it beats going back out in the rain.” 

Oikawa marveled at the carefully wrapped packages inside. There was even a picnic blanket tucked in the seams. He took it out and spread it across the floor.

“Can you see now?” he asked Sugawara as he touched his arm again. 

Sugawara squinted and swiveled his head around experimentally. 

“Yeah. It’s still kinda fuzzy, but I can see you. And everything else.” 

Oikawa motioned for him to come sit next to him on the blanket. He delicately laid out the packages. 

“Pretty drastic change from what we usually do on this court, huh,” Sugawara elbowed him. 

Oikawa smiled to himself, happy that Sugawara was feeling better. 

“I don’t think there’s a way to win at eating,” he reasoned.

Sugawara stuck his tongue out.  “Not with that attitude there isn’t.” 

“Look, I just want to eat this delicious meal a very cute boy made for me. I’m not looking for a stomach ache.” Oikawa put his hands up in defeat. 

Sugawara was quiet as he considered this. His face was too far in the dark for Oikawa to make out the emotion on it. 

Wordlessly, Sugawara handed him a cellophane-wrapped square. 

"Sounds like a plan," Oikawa sang happily. 

 ______________________________

“So Akaashi and Bokuto, huh?”

They had eaten their way through most of the food. Oikawa had his legs outstretched in front of him as he leaned back on his elbows. 

The whites of Sugawara’s teeth flashed. “I so called that. From the first time I met them, I called it.” 

“It makes sense to me,” Oikawa agreed as he lazily collected the trail of wrappers and tucked them in the bag. “They look good together. Oh my god, I forgot to tell you. Guess what I found out.”

“Mm?”

“Guess who Daichi thinks is cute. Guess.” 

“How would you kn-”

“Koushiiii. Just guess.”

Sugawara shrugged. “Other than my sister? I already told you, that’s not going to happen.”

“I know I know. Other than your sister.” 

“Uh… I dunno. He’s a pretty tight-lipped guy about his crushes. I only found out about that one because, well. It’s my sister.”  

Oikawa's grin hurt his cheeks. 

“He isn’t so tight-lipped with his diary. Which his sneaky little siblings found.”

Sugawara gasped. “Tooru,” he admonished. The gleam in his eye was unmistakable, though. 

“What!! I didn’t tell them to, they already had! And I didn’t ask- Kenji just blurted it out.” 

Sugwara slid closer to him. 

“That's pretty on-brand for Kenji. Alright, now I’m super curious. Who is it?”

Oikawa let the rain fill the dramatic pause he took. 

“Iwa.”

Sugawara gasped again.

“NO. WAY. Really? Oh, my god… oh my GOD that would be so fantastic- Tooru! We could totally get them together. I think they’re super compatible, how did I not think of that before? 

OIkawa was pleased that this news delighted Sugawara as much as he thought it would. 

“They’d look really good together, too,” he added. 

“Do you think we look good together?”

Oikawa turned to look at Sugawara, whose head was tilted with the inquiry. 

“Are you kidding?” Oikawa scooted close to him, put his hands on top of Sugawara’s knees. “We look the best together. I mean, obviously I’m devilishly handsome. And you’re… y’know.”

He blushed. 

“I’m what?”

“You’re the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” said Oikawa as he met Sugawara’s gaze.

A flash of lightning illuminated the gym for a split second, turning Sugawara’s hair pure white.  His eyes were round as he stared at Oikawa, his mouth hung open in surprise. 

The darkness followed, crashing down with the thunder. 

Neither of them moved. 

Slowly, so slow Oikawa wasn’t sure it was happening at all, Sugawara shifted forward. 

He rested his hands on the top of Oikawa’s chest.

Oikawa leaned in, his eyelids lowering as he gingerly ran his thumb across Sugawara’s cheek.

He paused, a breath away from the other boy.

“Koushi.”

Sugawara’s eyes fluttered open, silver fringe caught in confusion. His lips were parted slightly.

“Y-yeah..?”

“Do you remember how you said.. You said that we get one shot at the stars?”

Sugawara was so close. So agonizingly close. Oikawa could almost see his own reflection in the dark shimmer of those eyes. 

“Oh, haha. Yeah, I do.” Oikawa’s reflection sparkled as Sugawara let out a bemused huff. 

Oikawa sent a hand up to graze the stray slip of hair that had fallen into Sugawara’s face, tucking it back behind his ear. He tried to ignore the frantic begging from his heart, its pace matched to the hammered rain outside.

Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him, his heart implored. 

He swallowed. 

“What would you use it on? Your shot, I mean.” he asked quietly, back to stroking Sugawara’s cheek underneath his thumb. 

Sugawara tilted his head in Oikawa’s palms as he considered the question. 

“Oh.. um. I don’t really know. I hadn’t thought about it. How about you?”

“I already used mine.”

Sugawara’s eyebrows furrowed. Oikawa could count the creases between them, could kiss them smooth if he wanted to. He was that close. 

“On what?” 

Oikawa shrugged, fighting back his grin. “Oh, just a regular guy.” 

Watching Sugawara’s confusion unfurl into understanding was like watching the day begin. Oikawa chuckled in spite of himself, pleased to see the blush blooming across Sugawara’s cheeks.  

And then Sugawara laughed. 

“God, that’s so- you’re so -” he stuttered in the breaths between. 

Sugawara’s laughter was wide and warm and endless. Oikawa wanted to drown in the sound. He never wanted to listen to anything else. He’d make the world’s biggest fool of himself just to hear that laugh, over and over again, the clear stream of it pouring right across his heart. 

Something deep within him snapped its restraints cleanly in two, leaping forth at last. 

Oikawa did not wait for Sugawara to finish laughing before kissing him. 

Their lips collided, jumbled at first in the momentum. Sugawara made a small surprised noise. But then his mouth softened as Oikawa felt him tilt his head upwards.

Sugawara moved his hands from the front of Oikawa’s shirt to the edge of his jaw, knuckles tracing the hard line before fingertips found their way upwards into his hair. 

Oikawa melted into the kiss. 

Sugawara was so soft.

Everything about him in this moment was soft and kind and lovely. His hair. His cheeks. His lips, god, his lips. His tongue, warm and tentative at first as it pressed at the seam of Oikawa’s mouth. Even his sighs were soft, shivering out as Oikawa tilted his head further. 

The kiss wasn’t greedy, or hasty, or proud. They took their time with it, each tiny new movement a suggestion that was resoundingly approved. It was the kind of kiss that could only come with trust, with a deep understanding of one another. 

I know how you feel about me, was what Sugawara said by wrapping his hands around the small of Oikawa’s back and pulling their bodies closer together. 

And I know you feel the same way about me, was Oikawa’s unspoken response as he softly rolled Sugawara’s bottom lip between his own. 

Oikawa thumbed the freckle right by Sugawara’s eye, cupped the rest of Sugawara’s face perfectly in his hands. 

He smiled into the kiss as another flash of lightning seared the gym in white light again. 

This truly was the best day ever. 

______________________________

The rest of the world reeled on unflinchingly. 

This was just a pair of people, tucked away on the volleyball court of some high school gym, holding each other tight. 

Their lips pressed against each other had no impact on a solar system five thousand light years away.

Their hands, traced along jawlines and laced through hair, could not change the trajectory of an asteroid.

Their quiet sighs as they leaned further into each other could not break any kind of space time continuum. 

But in that tiny place, protected by arched walls and the patter of rain against metal… in that space that would be considered obsolete when compared to the staggering scope of existence… 

They did not need forever. They did not wish for eternal greatness and glory. 

They did not ask for the future to remember, nor the past to forget. 

All they asked for was already given, was right here at the touch of their fingertips, in the single breath shared between their mouths. 

It was an infinitely small act of defiance in the face of an infinitely unbothered universe. 

Like giving a papercut to an omnipotent god. 

But maybe that is the beauty of the small things. 

Things like an elaborate handshake between best friends, like a bag of milk bread fresh from the nearby bakery, like a perfect toss from a thoughtful setter. A strawberry cow. A handful of sports bars. A bandaid with watermelons on it.

They are too small, too insignificant to notice as they tear us apart and rebuild us again: 

Softly. Kindly. Gratefully. 

Our lungs run sore with laughter.

Our eyes blown wide with love.