Chapter Text
4 AM, rise and shine. Well, less shine, more rise, for the sun was still nowhere in sight. The stars and moon twinkled at him, though, and Oikawa was more than happy enough with that.
4:30 AM, to the gym. Technically, it wasn’t open till 7, but all it took was a pout, a pretty smile and a promise that he’d never tell anyone else for the half-asleep sophomore to give him the keys without batting an eye.
5 AM was when his workout began in earnest, a series of intense regimens all the way till 6:30, when Oikawa would reluctantly pull his shaky body off the equipment and stumble into the shower.
He’d slip out the door right before 7 AM, when the automatic locks would unclick for every other student.
Then, he’d join the rest of campus in their morning lives: getting breakfast, chatting with classmates, cramming last minute work in, and heading to their first classes.
Through the entirety of his first two years of college, nobody knew. Nobody noticed. Oikawa slept just as late as the rest of them, sometimes managing to only catch 2 hours of sleep before his schedule restarted.
But, one day in the spring of his junior year, Oikawa’s secret was discovered by another. Well...if one could even call it ‘discovered’ if Oikawa himself had walked in on the guy using the gym at unholy hours in the morning.
First reaction he’d had when seeing another figure benching weights was an unattractive squawk of, “W-WH-WHO ARE YOU!??”
Oikawa would have felt embarrassed at it if the man’s arms hadn’t flinched violently in shock just as he was pushing up, ruining his form, and crumpled under the weights instantly. The bar had crashed down on his chest.
Needless to say, Oikawa’s workout was cut off before it even began, as he had to help the stranger (his name was Iwaizumi Hajime, he’d managed to glean through a tangled stream of wheezed curses ) to the infirmary.
At 5 AM in the fucking morning.
~
He saw him at the gym again on an innocent Tuesday.
“I am so, so incredibly sorry.” Oikawa pleaded as soon as his eyes landed on that figure, the object of his late-night agonizings for the past six weeks, this time sitting safely on a mat, no cast in sight.
He hadn’t had the guts to seek out Iwaizumi after the ‘incident’ (his collarbone was injured, not his gigantic biceps that could easily strangle Oikawa to death ), instead choosing to send him a pile of anonymous get well soon gifts. Thankfully, Iwaizumi was protected by gym insurance and didn’t have to pay any bills to get treated in the campus hospital, so Oikawa didn’t have to worry about footing any bills his empty pockets couldn’t afford. But still...
He dropped his head and squeezed his eyes shut, cringing.
“Oh. Nah, don’t worry about it.” Iwaizumi Hajime replied, tenor voice rumbling across the room and straight through Oikawa’s body, down to the last place he wanted it to go.
Damn it, right now is not the time for that. Oikawa snapped at himself furiously. Get your raging gay under control.
Oikawa lifted his head cautiously, trying to scan the other man for signs of insincerity, any signal that he was (rightfully) annoyed at Oikawa’s tactlessness that landed him in the infirmary. If it were Oikawa who had been in his position, after all, he would have been livid and given himself a piece (fuck that, a whole pie) of his mind.
But Iwaizumi seemed unbothered, focused on the task of stretching out his neck, not even looking at Oikawa.
Small blessings, for sure, but now he was kind of bothered by how unbothered this man seemed.
Oikawa just ruined the man’s life for the past month and a half. And he was just going to...sit there?
Frowning a little, Oikawa forced cheeriness into his tone. “Well, I’m glad to see that you’re recovering well!”
Iwaizumi grunted in acknowledgement. “Thanks.”
And that was that.
Disgruntled, Oikawa stood at the gym entrance for a second longer, before blinking to snap himself out of it. He should be grateful, since it appeared that he’d gotten off scot-free. He supposed that this Iwaizumi guy must just be here to get a workout in, alone, and nothing more. Oikawa had already caused him enough inconvenience. He should really just leave the poor guy alone at this point.
It was a shame that Oikawa was never really one to do the right thing.
And so Oikawa put his gym clothes on (and if he reached for the lower cut of two shirts, nobody needed to know), ran a hand through his styled hair, lathered on his deodorant and promptly sauntered over to the mat right next to his new gym buddy’s.
“So, Iwaizumi, right? What brings you here so early in the morning?”
His newest attractive workout buddy glanced at him with what could only be described as thinly veiled annoyance. “It’s quiet .”
Ohoh, Oikawa noticed that barb, but he pretended as if he didn’t. “Ah. The same reason I picked this lovely time of day!” The lie fell gracefully out of his mouth, and Iwaizumi responded with a noncommittal grunt as he leaned forwards, fingers flexing towards his toes.
Oikawa momentarily forgot his motions as he stared at the many, many quivering muscles in the arms of the man next to him. He realized what he was doing a second later, and cleared his throat, berating himself. Oikawa Tooru did not ogle at people. He was the one who was ogled at , not some sort of desperate puppy who always stared at...those…
A low sigh. “What?”
Startled out of his stupid again, Oikawa flinched. “What?”
“What do you want from me?” Finally finished with his single stretch, Iwaizumi sat back upright and turned his full attention to Oikawa. Just how I like it, Oikawa thought to himself, only to find himself taking it back when he was graced with the knowledge that Iwaizumi Hajime, in fact, has green eyes. Green, like jade, or emeralds, or whatever else was pretty…
Green eyes that were slowly narrowing at him. “If it’s nothing, I’m gonna get back to my workout.”
As much as he would have liked to say that he said something cleverly charming at that moment, Oikawa resorted to nodding mutely, and then, staring after Iwaizumi’s unreasonably large calves as they walked away from him.
The rest of Oikawa’s workout session proved to be utterly unproductive.
And so did every visit to the gym from that day on.
~
Oikawa figured that it wasn’t fair. Why should he have to be the one to suffer, when he was already suffering so much, from this petty attraction he had to a man he virtually crushed with a dumbbell?
He knew what his flatmate, Kuroo Tetsurou, would say to that .
“Karma, cause you’re a bitch.”
Oikawa wasn’t about to disagree with that statement, but it wasn’t like Kuroo was one to talk. That little fucker even seemed to think that Oikawa’s situation was the pinnacle of comedy (“Oikawa Tooru: thirsty and rejected? This I gotta see!”), and had even begun begging Oikawa to let him tag along on his early gym excursions.
(Mind you, Oikawa had not been rejected.)
Thankfully, all it took was one reminder that Kuroo was god-awful at waking up early, and despised it, to turn him away from that idea.
Oikawa sighed, longsuffering, staring balely at his cup of coffee. He usually had coffee with some of his classmates this time of day, to discuss and catch up on their homework right before heading to class, but today, after nearly a week of steady ignorance from Iwaizumi, Oikawa didn’t feel like it, and instead chose to sulk at the table in the corner alone.
A week was seven days, you know. Seven days, 14 hours together with Iwaizumi Hajime, and what did Oikawa learn about the man? He was a sports science major, in the same year as Oikawa, and liked volleyball. (That last fact came as a gleeful discovery to Oikawa, as he also was an avid fan of volleyball. But Iwaizumi refused to elaborate beyond a basic love of the sport, and so Oikawa found himself at a standstill once again.)
What Oikawa really wanted to know was whether Iwaizumi wanted to go on a date with him, but every time he opened his mouth to ask, his throat closed up and he ended up in a coughing fit instead.
And even then, Iwaizumi never even spared him a glance.
How incredibly uncaring.
But, to Oikawa’s despair, it sort of turned him on.
The cafe bell chimed, and a clump of students blew their way into the store along with a gust of chilly November wind, chattering amiably. Shivering slightly, Oikawa eyed them, wary because he didn’t recognize the group, and he knew almost everyone in the East sector of campus, where most science majors resided.
He was squinting, still trying to discern who they might’ve been, when he spotted a certain, very familiar (too familiar, given their just-acquaintances status) spiky head amongst the group, bundled in a dark winter coat. Oikawa’s eyes widened. Iwaizumi.
He ran a frantic calculation. The sports science building was technically in the East sector, but lay on the border between it and the North, and was closer to the dining complexes and cafes in the North. Hence, its residents almost never came so far East…
This was a rare occurrence.
And Oikawa seldom did not seize a juicy opportunity.
Summoning his courage, Oikawa let his body act on its own and stood up, leaving his coffee on the table behind him. He sauntered over to the group casually; a few of them turned to watch him curiously, looking over the impeccably, yet effortlessly dressed, gorgeous young man approaching them. (At least, that must have been what they were looking at.)
Iwaizumi remained oblivious, staring up at the black chalkboard menu with a subtle scowl etched into his forehead.
Watching him, Oikawa had a stroke of genius.
“Yaho~, Iwa-chan !”
Bingo. Oikawa watched in amusement as surprise, recognition, then mild horror clouded Iwaizumi’s eyes, and he snapped his head over to lock eyes with Oikawa.
The others began to murmur.
“Who is that?”
“Do you know him?”
“ Iwa -chan?”
“Holy shit that’s hilarious, can I call you that too?”
Iwaizumi glanced around, putting his hand up, shushing his companions. “Wait.” He pushed a few steps through the crowd to stand a few paces away from Oikawa and glared at him, wary and disgruntled.
Oikawa bestowed him with his most dazzling smile.
“Oikawa. What do you- What is that nickna- Why are you-” Iwaizumi huffed.
Snickering, Oikawa waved his hand around magnanimously. “Don’t worry, take your time, Iwa-chan.”
“Shut up. What do you want?”
Mildly surprised that Iwaizumi didn’t protest the nickname more, Oikawa briefly celebrated internally before tossing his hair. “No reason, just fancy seeing you here.”
Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes. “That’s it? You just wanted to say hi?”
Oikawa didn’t know what was so hard to believe about that. Sure, he hadn’t yet achieved what he would call ‘friendship’ with Iwaizumi, but they were acquaintances, at the very least.
“Are you really that antisocial, Iwa-chan? I never see you outside of the early morning hours , so I had to come find out why today was different.” Blink innocently. Smile sharply. Disarm the opponent.
Iwaizumi’s classmates tittered behind him at Oikawa’s suggestive connotation, but the man himself seemed to not even hear it.
Rather than becoming flustered, as per Oikawa’s efforts, Iwaizumi harrumphed and seemed to relax a smidge, deigning to smile ever so slightly. “We’ve got a project with the volleyball team, and they practice in the East gym.”
Yes, Oikawa was well aware. He often joined their practices whenever his knee was feeling up for it, having fun setting for his friends whilst ignoring the sharp, wrenching longing that twisted his insides.
“Oh, I see!” Oikawa responded, a beat slower than he should have. “You like volleyball, no, Iwa-chan?”
Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but nodded his agreement.
“Do you play?”
“Not on the team.”
“But before?” Oikawa pressed. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much to know the answer, but some part of him felt that there was an untold story present. One that maybe...maybe he could connect to.
But, as with all of Oikawa’s previous attempts, Iwaizumi clammed up, turning back towards the sign. “It’s not impor-”
“He was ace.”
Startled, Oikawa glanced at the speaker, a tall, sleepy-looking man with a tousled bed head. Nestled comfortably in his gigantic coat complete with a fur-lined hood, he gave off the impression of a large sloth, but Oikawa could see that his eyes were clear under the shadows, gleaming with much more intelligence than his sloppy clothing suggested.
“Matsukawa!” Iwaizumi scolded, looking completely unsurprised, and Oikawa suspected that his tone was less harsh than it would be if it had been someone else to spill.
Feathers completely unruffled, Matsukawa ignored the reprimand and turned his attention fully to Oikawa. “Nice to meet you. I’m Matsukawa.”
Oikawa beamed, turning his charm up to the max. This was one of Iwaizumi’s close friends, after all, and if he was to have any chance of becoming closer to the man, his friends were the first place to start. “Oikawa Tooru, at your service. I’m the one who broke his collarbone.”
Oikawa paused for dramatic effect, waiting for a reaction. Matsukawa merely bobbed his head leisurely. Never mind, then.
Supposing that Matsukawa already knew (oh my, that meant Iwaizumi talked about him) Oikawa barreled on. “Um, I’m an astronomy major! What about you? Also sports science like Iwa-chan?”
In the background, ‘Iwa-chan’ spluttered in indignation.
Matsukawa smirked. “Nah. Undecided.”
They were already juniors, so undecided majors were rare, as their school enforced a soft requirement of declaring your major at the start of the year. If Oikawa were anyone else, he might have adopted the signature chagrined expression most undecided majors received, but he had personal experience with the type, so Oikawa merely nodded. “My best friend is also undecided. Hanamaki Takahiro, you know him?”
Matsukawa tilted his head. “Not sure. But I’m bad with names, so it could just be me.”
“Pink hair,” Oikawa supplied. He wasn’t sure why, but he had the feeling that Makki, as he affectionately dubbed his best friend through college, would get along spectacularly with this Matsukawa guy. They had different energies, but at their core, there was a certain lackadaisical quality that they shared.
Matsukawa’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh, I think he was at this conference us undecided majors had to go to. Funny dude.”
Feeling a bit like a proud mother, Oikawa snapped his fingers and nodded. “Sounds like him!”
He made a mental note to ask Hanamaki whether he knew Matsukawa, later. The two had potential, Oikawa mentally declared. His matchmaker senses were tingling, and they almost never lied.
Kuroo’s bored voice popped up in his head, once again. ‘Tell that to the 10 failed dates you set me up on.” Oikawa shushed him.
“Well, we should probably hurry.” Iwaizumi cut in. Oikawa caught sight of the coffee cup in his hand, surprised. When did he get his drink? Had he been that engrossed in his conversation with Matsukawa?
Matsukawa nodded. “Was nice meeting you.” He offered a lazy smile to Oikawa, and Oikawa found himself returning it with a genuine agreement.
“See you around, Iwa-chan, Mattsun!” Oikawa chirped cheerfully.
Iwaizumi glared again, opening his mouth to protest the nickname, but Matsukawa just raised his eyebrows at his, amused.
“Bye, Kawa.”
Oikawa pouted. “Hm...3 out of ten, Mattsun. Cute, but not creative at all!”
Matsukawa snorted, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets lazily. “Oiks, then.”
Aghast, Oikawa cringed. “Ew. You make me sound like a pig.”
Mattsun stared blankly back at him.
Oh, that little- “I am not a pig, Mattsu-”
“Those all suck.” Iwaizumi interrupted, raising a hand up in a halting gesture and smirking a little. His jacket crinkled with his movement, and Oikawa briefly wondered if he was hallucinating, because he swore he could see that man’s biceps even through that thick of a layer--
Wait, did Iwaizumi just agree with him? Oikawa couldn’t believe his ears. Grinning widely, he swept his arm out, moving towards the stockier boy on impulse, “Why thank you, Iwa-c-”
“How about shittykawa instead?”
“-an?”
Grin falling comically fast, Oikawa froze, and processed. Then, Oikawa actually couldn’t believe his ears.
“What the- how could you?”
Oikawa didn’t get to stew much in his affronted agitation, though, because Iwaizumi began to laugh, loud and clear and from his belly, eyes crinkling in a charming way that made Oikawa’s stomach flip.
Matsukawa chuckled too, from the side, but Oikawa couldn’t shake the feeling that Matsukawa’s eyes were piercing into him as he fought to keep his awed blush off his cheeks.
“I’m just fucking with you, Oikawa. But I’m a genius, holy shit.”
“Y-you just shoved my name together with a swear word, big deal, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa fought to regain his composure.
“But your name is so compatible with them! Crappykawa, Assikawa, Fuck--” Iwaizumi halted and frowned, contemplative. “Nah, Fuckkawa just sounds weird since they’re both ‘k’s.”
Hearing the words “fuck” and “kawa” immediately after each other was definitely not good for Oikawa’s emotional state, Oikawa discovered as he immediately flushed, flapping his mouth like a fish in an attempt to come up with a retort.
“I-”
Matsukawa’s smirk deepened.
Unbeknownst to Oikawa’s turmoil and Matsukawa’s enjoyment, Iwaizumi merely chuckled to himself. “Well anyways, we really do have to bail. See you at the gym, Oikawa.”
“Y-yeah.”
And with that less-than-eloquent reply, the chime of the door and another gust of cold air, Iwaizumi and Matsukawa were gone.
Damn it, Oikawa really wished he had managed to say something smarter, leave a lasting impression at goodbye.
But holy crap.
Holy crap, he just managed to get a little closer with Iwaizumi Hajime. And his friend, even. Oikawa felt as if he was back in his first year of high school, floating on cloud nine just from an innocent chat, but he loved it.
No matter how hard he tried, Oikawa couldn’t shake the secret smile off his face for the rest of the day.