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It was hard for Oikawa to hear his heart breaking over the sound of the music.
Throbbing, techno notes pulsed throughout the multi-level house and reverberated up through the floorboards. He felt the vibrations starting from the soles of his feet and thrumming straight through his chest, until the boy couldn’t tell whether or not it was his heart or the soundtrack he felt pounding out a warning signal.
It had started when he laid eyes on his boyfriend. His beautiful, stunning boyfriend of three years with his dark spiky hair and striking eyes.
Iwaizumi had been missing half the night and Oikawa had forgiven him the transgression; it was a party after all, and there were plenty of other people willing to entertain the Aoba Johsai setter in the meanwhile. The endlessly rotating line of party guests to talk to steadily declined, however, as one-by-one they realized that, though he might not be physically present, Iwaizumi was certainly the only topic of conversation Oikawa was willing to engage in, and most left quickly after the unreserved gushing first started.
Indeed, his most consistent companion throughout the night was the red solo cup clutched firmly in his hand, which - through either the kind benevolence of the universe or the twisted sense of humor of fate - always remained brimming with a myriad of spirits.
But eventually, Tooru became exhausted of simply talking about his boyfriend instead of having him present by his side, and so, with the same determination of a newly enlisted soldier deployed on his first mission, he set out, navigating Ushiwaka’s gigantic mansion of a house to try and find his beloved.
It was a tiring journey. Everyone seemed to have seen him at one point or the other, with someone or another, and like a lost puppy following his own tail, Oikawa began the wild goose chase with little luck.
Shortly after the wasted time he spent enduring Hinata’s incessant giggling and drunken hiccups because, “He’s right behind you, silly!”, Oikawa was ready to give up, because as a matter of fact his Hajime was not right behind him, and just who did this blurry orange child think he was, lying to him?
“That’s bold talk for someone who lost to us at Nationals.”
Now who was this blurry tar-headed child by the chibi’s side, and who did he think he was?
Confused and disgruntled, Tooru slinked towards the kitchen, convinced that though his significant other felt compelled to abandon him, his third jägerbomb of the night would surely not follow suit, and it was right at that moment of defeat that Oikawa witnessed his boyfriend kissing another man.
Not just another man, but someone Oikawa considered a friend. Kotaro Bokuto was unmistakable with his wild silver-tipped hair practically glowing in the strobing neon lights. Even more recognizable, however, was his bare chest and broad shoulders, glinting just as brightly, as if someone had covered him in glitter. After a hesitant step closer, Oikawa could confirm that someone had covered him in glitter.
Iwaizumi’s going to have such a hard time washing that out, was the detached, abstract thought that popped, almost unwillingly, into Oikawa’s mind first as he struggled to understand the scene before him.
Perhaps it took him so long - It felt like hours he stood there, staring, unable to look away, yet desperate to erase the scene from his brain - to come to terms with it because of how passionate the pair seemed. Passion Oikawa would have sworn just seconds before existed only between themselves.
The boy he called Iwa-chan had his arms clasped around Fukurodani’s Ace as if he were a direct lifeline. Bokuto had him pinned against the wall, one leg pressing up possessively against Iwaizumi, a position his boyfriend had before only imagined him in. They completed the image with tightly locked lips, hardly bothering to break for air. In fact, they seemed blissfully happy with the prospect of drowning in each other.
Oikawa tried to save the tears that immediately sprang to his eyes as he witnessed the scene. He was the Captain of one of the fiercest teams in Miyagi prefecture, and, drunk or not, he’d don the ugly purple uniform of Shiratorizawa in a heartbeat before breaking down in front of all of his fellow volleyball players, competitors and friends alike.
But that didn’t mean he had to take this lying down.
With fierce, angry resolve fueling every step, Oikawa marched towards the couple. In seconds, he was in front of them - And was everyone at this party blurry? - and without a moment’s hesitation he was wrenching Bokuto away from his boyf-from Iwaizumi, shoving him as forcefully as he could manage into the wall, Kotaro now in the reversed position he had been in just moments before.
“Uh, Oikawa?”
“Shut it, owl-head. I’ll deal with you later.” Was the only remark Oikawa dared to say to him in that moment, afraid that if he unleashed his full anger at Bokuto now, assault charges would be the resulting consequence, and frankly, he had a full cover spread coming up in the school’s newspaper and he really didn’t need that tainted with bad press-
“As for you,” With the wrath and vengeance of a teenager scorned, he turned his full fury on the true perpetrator. “You-you motherfucking fucker.”
“Oikawa, you’re drunk.”
“You being drunk isn’t an excuse to cheat on me, you absolute piece of shit-filled shit.”
A familiar voice behind him dryly remarked, “His insults become really derivative when he’s drunk. Just wait, he’s gonna start monologuing.”
Choosing to ignore the bystander was the only option, as more and more curious guests paused their embarrassing dancing and messy party games to check out what was happening over in the corner. Oikawa might as well have been in an empty room for all the attention he returned to them. He could barely hear the comments in the first place; the violent rushing in his ears proving far too loud.
“Oikawa, I’m not-”
“What? You’re not sorry? You’re not sorry that you’ve absolutely shattered my heart?”
As if these were practiced lines, Oikawa theatrically clutched his chest.
“You’re not sorry that you’re more than content to throw away our entire relationship over the drunken throes of some brainless pair of abs?”
On cue, Oikawa whipped around to take a look at the wide-eyed ace, who was much too drunk himself to understand what was going on.
“No offense, Bokuto.”
“Oh, none taken, you’re all good.”
“Hey,” Though Iwaizumi’s face was blurry, the warning in his voice was crystal clear when he said, “Don’t talk about him that way.”
“And why not? Is this more than a silly hook-up, my dear, dear Iwa-chan? Do you actually love him? Is that what’s going on here?”
“Oh my god, Oikawa, listen-”
“No, and how dare you try and sit there and justify your actions! And, fine, I get why you chose Bokuto. I mean, god, those abs really are something. Seriously, it’s insane. Does my body know we play the same sport? And I know I always said if I had to choose someone from Fukurodani, he’d probably be a close second to-”
“Are you really going to let him continue like this?” Iwaizumi questioned, not even giving Oikawa the attention he both wanted and deserved.
“Oikawa, can you look behind you?” That same bystander from before asked him in a voice not unkind, but still as if whoever it was was also very close to laughing. Laughing at him.
“No, no. You don’t get to decide what I say or how I react.” Oikawa’s voice, which had already been rather loud in the first place, was rising well above the volume of the music, as if he were trying to be heard on every level of the house. His anger - Or his complete misery, he wasn't sure which one - was beginning to get the best of him, sharpening his tongue, even despite the copious amount of alcohol in his bloodstream.
“You don’t get to decide anything about me anymore. God, I wish you had thought this through before I went and fell in love with you.”
The eyebrows of the boy in front of him knitted together in confusion, and as Oikawa’s vision cleared every so slightly, some small, but still nowhere near sober, part of his brain mindlessly pondered, Had Iwaizumi’s gaze always been so sharp?
“Aren’t those the lyrics to that one highschool musical girl’s song?” He asked.
“Her name is Olivia Rodrigo,” Oikawa seethed, “And we sang that song together you piece of-” At that, Oikawa’s poor heart couldn’t take it anymore and his voice, as well as what little composure he had left, cracked, and he fell to the ground sobbing.
Or at least, he would have, if strong arms from behind hadn’t caught his descent in their firm grip.
“You always know how to make a scene at these things.” That same familiar voice whispered into his ear, hauling him unceremoniously up from the ground. Other than his now uncontrolled weeping, Oikawa remained as lifeless as a puppet, making the task to keep him on his feet rather difficult.
With a heavy sigh as if he were regretting all the life choices that led to this moment, the bystander from earlier chose instead to sink down with him, wrapping his arms at first without comment around the shaking frame of his boyfriend.
“Hey, hey, Oikawa, listen, I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not, Iwaizumi. How could you do this to me?” Oikawa demanded, trying desperately - and pathetically failing - to remove himself from the boy’s grasp.
“You’re right, I’m not sorry for cheating.”
“You piece of shitty shit-”
“Hey, hey, let me finish. I’m not sorry for cheating because I didn’t.”
Oikawa’s tears stopped only momentarily, so that he could glare as fiercely as he could manage in his current state at the one holding him.
“I saw you.”
“No, what you saw was Bokuto making out with his boyfriend, Akaashi. I’ve been right next to you the whole time.”
“You-you have?”
“Who do you think has been filling up your cup this entire night? Honestly, that one’s on me.”
Through tear-filled eyes and with a quivering lip that Iwaizumi was almost completely certain was for show, Oikawa peered upwards at the two boys, Bokuto and-
And a very unamused, glitter-covered Akaashi. The difference was subtle in Oikawa’s drunken stupor, but as soon as it was pointed out to him, it became glaringly obvious. Sterling blue eyes instead of pretty olive green ones, jet black hair instead of dark...dark brown, thick eyebrows instead of-of slightly thinner ones?
Oikawa's gaze glazed back over.
“Iwaizumi, how are you in two places at once?” He demanded to know.
“Look closer, Tooru, that’s Akaashi.”
“Oh... Oh! ”
A moment of shining clarity broke through the clouds of doubt and confusion. With elated glee, Oikawa wriggled loose from Iwaizumi’s grasp only to lock him in one of his own.
“Oh my god, I’m so happy you didn’t cheat on me.”
With a smile buried in the hair of his absolutely ridiculous boyfriend, Iwaizumi pulled him even closer.
“I’m still sorry I let you go through all that. I just-Did you have that rehearsed? You’re drunk, I don’t even know how you came up with that on the spot.”
“As the captain of our team I have to be prepared for any situation, Iwa-chan. Now let me go, I have to talk to Akaashi.”
“You’re the one that’s holding onto me.”
And Oikawa held on for just a few seconds more, before jumping up from the floor. Hurriedly wiping his tear-stained face, he ran over to where the original pair stood, now talking quietly amongst themselves, and interrupted them for the second time that night.
“Akaashi, I’m so sorry for calling you a motherfucking fucker.”
“And?”
“And all that other stuff too. Bokuto, I’m sorry for calling you owl-head. Honestly, I don’t even think you look like an owl, I just copied what Kuroo says. And I’m sorry I called you brainless, I was the brainless one tonight. I just couldn’t stand the thought of, well, you know. I wouldn’t even be able to blame you, Iwaizumi’s so hot I’d want to make out with him too.”
Bokuto grinned, “I forgive you!” He exclaimed, completely unaware of what he was forgiving Oikawa for. All he knew was that his friend had seen a passion so fervent he had felt bad simply witnessing it. But that was okay, because he knew how to fix it.
“You felt left out, right?”
“Right! Well, not left out but-”
Oikawa was the one cut off this time, by a swift, but certainly not chaste, kiss as Bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him close, quickly and efficiently making out with the boy, who had just as rapidly gone as rigid as a statue. Obviously, this was the one way to erase any lingering feelings of missing out, Bokuto was certain of it.
And then the kiss was over, and a very dazed and still very drunk Oikawa was released.
“I take it back.”
Bokuto stared at him in confusion, not for the first time that night, unsure about what he was referring to, but still relatively content that the pressing issue had been resolved.
“Take what back?”
“If I had to choose someone from Fukadorani, you’d be first place.”
Off to the side, an unimpressed Akaashi raised a single thick eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Iwaizumi, who was still sitting on the floor. “How did that song go again, Hajime?”
Iwaizumi dramatically clutched the left side of his chest in suitable Oikawa fashion and falling backwards to the ground sang out, “God, I wish that you had thought this through before I went and fell in love with you.”
Meanwhile, Bokuto was beaming with satisfaction. He threw a toned arm around his fellow captain.
“Good to know! But between you and me, if I had to choose somebody from your team, I’d go with Iwaizumi.”
“WHAT?!” Oikawa attempted to throw Bokuto’s arm off of him, but damn it, it was just so muscular.
“Yeah!” Conspiratorially, the ace motioned for Oikawa to come closer, despite the already tight proximity, determined that the words he was about to share stay a secret.
“Honestly, he looks a lot like Akaashi.”
Suspiciously, Oikawa glanced over to where Iwaizumi and Akaashi were chatting, both boys fondly - if exasperatedly - exchanging stories of their absolutely ridiculous boyfriends.
“Huh...You know what? I don’t see it.”