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“I forfeit!” you cry out, but it’s already too late.
A snowball hits you straight in the chest, and you let yourself fall to the ground dramatically while clutching the spot where it struck you. A medley of voices explodes around you, victorious cheers, giggles and a shout of despair mixing and mingling together, as you flail around like a turtle on its back, tossing about in the cold white blanket and pressing your eyes and mouth together tightly to keep the whirled up snow from landing in them.
After a few more moments of listening to the excited buzz and feet shuffling around, you finally sit up. A wide grin is plastered on your face, as you pull your legs in to sit cross-legged and glance at the commotion in front of you.
A horde of kids, led by your boyfriend’s nephew Takeru, is chasing after the considerably taller Oikawa, hurling snowballs and giggling threats in his direction, which he easily brushes off as he makes a beeline straight for you. Only when he skids to a halt and crouches down before you do they cease their wild chase as well, staying back a few yards and eyeing you two suspiciously while whispering among themselves, apparently unsure of what to do now.
You stifle a chuckle as you finally turn your face toward Oikawa, who is still squatting in front of you. His cheeks, just as the tip of his nose, are flushed a deep red color and his lips are curled into one those rare smiles that reaches all the way up in his eyes. His whole face seems to be glowing.
“You doing okay down here, beautiful?”
He puts his hands on your shoulders and runs them up and down your upper arms in quick motions, the friction causing a welcoming wave of warmth to spread through them, and leaving you with a tingling sensation when he pulls back again to tug the knit cap, which had almost slipped off your head earlier, back over your ears which are a bright red color from being exposed to the cold winter air for too long.
The chuckle you had managed to hold back a moment ago finally bursts from your lips in a hearty laugh, and you nod, looking up at him. You can see the reflection of your own red cheeks in his eyes.
“I’m fine, Tooru, I just need a little break to recharge. Who would’ve thought that a bunch of grade schoolers could keep you this busy?”, you say as you mirror his earlier gesture and pull at the hem of his knit cap until his ears are completely covered by the wool again. Your hands linger on his cheeks a moment longer than necessary and he leans into your touch, pressing his head slightly against your gloved palm. You stay like this for a moment, smiling at each other and simply enjoying the sweetness of the moment.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” he eventually says with a little pout when you retrieve your hand, placing it on the ground next to you to support your body, “I know I promised today would be all about us.”
He sounds apologetic, but you can see a sparkle of mischief glimmering in his eyes, as though his words have a different meaning to them that seems to elude you somehow. However, before you can open your mouth and voice the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, he suddenly leans forwards and touches his lips to yours. Contrary to yours, his lips feel warm and you answer his soft hum with a little sigh as you feel the wings of butterflies whizzing to life in the pit of your stomach, replacing every thought with nothing but the giddy feeling of young love.
He pulls back and catches your gaze. There’s something about his look that makes it seem as though he’s figuring out something, and for a fleeting second you wish you’d for once know what was going on in that pretty head of his. Unconsciously, you start nibbling on your bottom lip, feeling a bit uneasy under his scrutinizing look, which forms such a contrast to the smile that’s still playing on his lips. Then, all of a sudden, this very smile turns to a smirk and the look vanishes as he closes his eyes and leans in once more.
Instinctively blinking your eyes shut as well, you await the ensuing kiss, feeling a fluttering in your belly. But just before his lips meet yours for a second time, a whoosh sound zips through the air and Oikawa’s head is thrown forwards, his forehead crashing smack into yours.
The momentum sends you reeling backwards and you land on the ground in a tangle of limbs, coldness seeping through your collar as your boyfriend’s body pushes you deep in the snow.
“EWWW!”
The shouts of the children you had completely forgotten until now reach your ears and you’re torn between yelling out profanities while you try to struggle back on your feet, and a laughing fit. You decide in favor of the second option and when Oikawa has finally climbed off of you and pulled you back up into a sitting position, you almost topple over again from the sheer force of the laughter, which is shaking your whole body.
Oikawa, on the other hand, isn’t nearly as amused as you are that you had been interrupted in your little moment. There’s a muscle twitching in his jaw as he vigorously rubs his forehead and, with one last glance at you (and seemingly deciding you were perfectly fine after the impact), he whirls around, yelling: “This means war!”
The small boys and girls squeal in delight as he starts chasing them and dodge his powdery snowballs he is half-heartedly forming with little piles of snow hastily picked up from the ground in his mad dash that makes him slip several times, his arms then flailing about to keep his balance and giving the hunted time enough to shower him in a hail of their own snowballs.
Your laughter slowly subsides and when the last few giggles die down, you lean back on your elbows to watch the spectacle in front of you from a more comfortable position. The two smallest kids latch onto Oikawa’s legs in an attempt to slow him down and make it easier for the others to attack him. He’s trying to shake them off with long, jerky strides, but the wild grin on his face clearly shows how much fun he’s having goofing around with the inexhaustible troublemakers.
You feel a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, which seems to warm your whole body, spreading throughout you and reaching all the way to your fingertips. For all he is in the eyes of other people – handsome and capable captain of Aobajousai’s volleyball team, heart thief who can make girls swoon with just a flick of his hair, fierce opponent with an annoying personality – this is your Oikawa Tooru. This is a side of him that belongs to you, and that makes you remember all over again why you fell in love with him in the first place.
Granted, you had been reluctant at first. You had locked up your heart tightly, had steeled it against him when he had first approached you. Not because you wanted to play hard to get or because you didn’t like him, but because you were wary of him, his reputation as heartbreaker with a cluster of fangirls following him around everywhere causing your mind to vehemently refuse the prospect of getting involved with him in any way, warning you clearly to stay away from him. Or better yet, to run. To run as hard and fast as you could until you were out of sight, until his eyes could no longer make you out and lock onto the next target. Until you were sure your heart would be left unscathed.
But Oikawa didn’t make it easy for you. He seemed to be just as determined to win you over as you were determined to push him away. Your countless rebuffs were countered with ever new advances, the annoyingly bright smile clinging tenaciously to his features and his spirit revived every day. No matter how many times you brushed past him when he waited in front of your classroom to walk you to your next class, how many times you rejected his invitations to come to practice, to walk home together, or to go on dates with him, he just wouldn’t give up and you’d find him waiting for you all over again the next day as if nothing had happened. And when you had come down with a fever and had to stay out of school for a whole week, he stopped by your house every day after practice although you could clearly see the exhaustion of the day lining his face, just to make sure you were recovering well. Throughout this whole ordeal, you slowly felt yourself falling for him, despite your apprehension. At some point, the nagging voice of reason became drowned out by the loud thumping of your heartbeat whenever you caught sight of him, and you unconsciously found yourself returning his greetings and smiles, began spending your lunch break together with him whenever you managed to sneak away from prying eyes, started to glimpse other sides of him, suddenly wanted to learn about these other sides, until one day, you decided to take the plunge.
And once you did, it had astonished you how easy it was to let him in. How easily the doors to the lock of your heart clicked and cracked open. At first it had been slowly, but then, as though hit by a gust of wind these doors were slammed open completely, with a loud, startling bang, rocking you to the very core of your being. And frankly, this had scared you. How he so effortlessly swept you off your feet, how even the subtlest of his touches brought about an explosion of fireworks in your stomach, how his kisses knocked the air out of your lungs, leaving your head dizzy and spinning, how the sound of his voice sent a pleasant shiver down your spine and immediately brought a stupid grin to your face. It was terrifying. Terrifying and beautiful.
But you didn’t regret it. Not once had you regretted it. Never before in your young life have you felt so safe, happy and…loved.
You’re roused out of your thoughts when you hear your name being called. You blink twice, hard, as you can still feel the tendrils of memory holding you captive, engulfing you in a strange feeling of sentimentality that threatens to bring tears to your eyes.
You blink once more, effectively ridding yourself of it and choking down the lump in your throat back in the depth of where it had come from.
When the world around you finally shifts back into focus, you see Oikawa and Takeru standing in the middle of the clearing, trying to get your attention, your boyfriend waving both of his hands, and his nephew forming a funnel around his mouth with his hands to amplify the volume of his voice. Hopping to your feet in one swift motion and brushing off the bits of snow that don’t stick stubbornly to your clothes, your voice booms over the clearing as you yell back: “I’ll be with you in a minute!”
Straightening your spine as you let your gaze roam over the snowy treetops, standing almost black against the sky that is dipped in a fiery red by the setting sun, you repeat the words silently once more to yourself: “In just a minute…”
**
“Now it’s finally just the two of us~” Oikawa says when you turn around after waving goodbye to Takeru and his parents.
You throw him a short glance, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
The children had filtered out of the clearing under the last rays of the setting sun, excitedly skipping back home into the arms of their waiting parents. Ready to while away Christmas Eve in rooms lit by the soft flames of cinnamon-scented candles and the lights of Christmas trees, you and Oikawa dropped Takeru off at the doorsteps of his parents, declining the invitation to stay for dinner with thanks. Determined to reimburse the two of you for looking after her son while she had been out doing some last minute Christmas shopping, his mom finally loaded you up with so many cookies and little snacks you were sure they could have supplied a small family for a whole month.
Oikawa is holding the large bag filled with sugary goodness tucked under one arm, while the hand of his other is laced with yours. You swear you can feel the warmth of his touch seeping all the way through the thick fabric of your gloves.
The closer you get to his house, the more your heartbeat speeds up. It was Oikawa’s idea to spend Christmas Eve together at his place, seeing as his parents were out of town for a couple days, and while you have to admit that the thought of spending not only the evening, but also all night, by his side has you extremely nervous, this feeling is overshadowed by the sheer amount of excitement and happiness at the prospect of having him all to yourself for the rest of the day. You knew what you were up for when you started dating him, knew he’d be spending a lot of time at Aobajousai’s gym at practice, that you’d have to share his affections, attention and time with his love for volleyball and his teammates, and it wasn’t something that bothered you. Instead, it made you learn to cherish these rare moments of intimate togetherness all the more (plus, it helped you to not neglect your studies as finals were fast approaching).
You sneak another glance in his direction, listening to the low hum he makes under his breath and watching the curve of his lip that’s pulled up into a satisfied smile. He seems to be in an extraordinarily good mood and you can’t help but smile along with him. Oikawa seems to notice you’re watching him from the corner of your eye, as he suddenly turns his head to focus his attention completely on you, the smile never leaving his face.
Feeling caught in the act, your face heats up and you quickly avert your gaze, which causes Oikawa to let out a chuckle. He watches your expression silently for a few moments, just long enough to make sure you’re aware he’s amused by your sudden shyness, but short enough to not make you feel uncomfortable. You gently bump your shoulder into his, and his smile widens as he wriggles his hand from yours just to throw an arm around you, pulling you close against his side. You sheepishly peek around, suddenly painfully aware you’re exchanging such intimate gestures in public, but at the same time you feel a wave of affection for him surge through you, knowing he doesn’t care if anyone sees that the two of you belong together. Sure, he’s friendly with most people – especially girls – but when he’s with you it’s a different kind of affection he displays. One that feels completely and utterly genuine. Although he seems easy-going and loving when he’s around others, his gestures and words are always controlled and deliberate. But when it’s you who’s at his side this side of his truly feels…real, not just like an act. And that’s something you love about him, that makes you realize he harbors just as many feelings for you as you for him.
When you spot the roof of his house at the end of the street you’re turning into, your breathing once more quickens, and you’re glad he has let go of your hand, because your fingers have started trembling. Yet, it’s as though he’s completely aware of the renewed nervousness you’re experiencing, because he leans down and, in a singsong voice, utters so close to your ear that you can feel his breath graze your sensitive skin: “We’re almost there, and we got the whole night ahead of us~”
Once you’re inside, you’re immediately ushered into the bathroom by your boyfriend, who insists that you take a hot shower after having been outside in the cold all afternoon. Getting some warmth back into your body sure sounds heavenly, yet you can’t help feeling somewhat bashful to take a shower in his house. But after some halfhearted protests, you finally give in to his persuasive power and lock the bathroom door behind you to fill the room with a thick fog of steam for the next thirty minutes.
When you walk back out, you feel not only thoroughly warmed up and squeaky clean, but also utterly relaxed. Pushing your wet hair back over your shoulder, you find Oikawa leaning against the door frame of the kitchen opposite to the bathroom, his arms folded in front of his chest as he eyes you with a pout on his face.
“I was expecting to see you emerge in nothing but a towel,” he comments, his voice sounding sulky, as he pushes himself off the frame and comes sauntering over to where you are. As if to emphasize his words, he tugs at the hem of your cardigan, his lips still pursed. You swat away his hands and, slowly lifting your gaze, throw him a look that sends him running – after sneaking one last kiss from you, that is.
The moment the door to the bathroom closes behind Oikawa, you hear him whistling the melody of Jingle Bells. You shake your head softly as a warm smile spreads on your face. Making your way towards the living room with slow, deliberate steps, you unconsciously join into his song.
You plop down on the couch, crouching into one of its corners and pressing your weight against the armrest. This is not your first time being at Oikawa’s place – not even the first time staying over – but it amazes you how different the atmosphere feels without his family around. Not that you have ever minded being around them. On the contrary, they had welcomed you with open arms, and made getting along with them almost too easy – because weren’t girlfriends supposed to be a ball of nerves at least around their maybe-mother-in-law? However, nobody in the Oikawa family has ever made you feel this way. When you disappeared in his room, they never bothered you by trying to find out what was going on inside (maybe they really didn’t want to know, you thought and felt heat spring to your cheeks), and when you were around them, they always tried their hardest to make you feel as comfortable as possible. Which is why it felt rather strange to be sitting in their living room right now without being offered coffee, tea, a snack, some chocolate… or all of the above.
You look around the room, the silence so thick that you can hear the soft buzz of the lights on the Christmas tree. You press deeper into the armrest, curling in your legs in order to find a comfortable sitting position. When you’re done shifting around, you find your head resting on a sofa cushion and your knees pulled up to your tummy. Being surrounded by the cozy warmth the heater is giving off and the smell of Oikawa’s shampoo you used earlier clinging to your hair, your lids slowly drop and before you know it, all of this, together with the sound of running water and the muted whistling, which seems to be miles away, have lulled you into the arms of sleep.
When you blink your eyes open, the silence is filled with the sounds of footsteps and the rich smell of freshly brewed coffee. You look up groggily and are met by a pair of brown eyes that is fixed on you. Oikawa puts down the mug he’s holding on the coffee table and you follow the steam coming out of its top with sleepy eyes, your mind still caught in this state somewhere between being awake and dreaming.
Your view is soon blocked by his tall body entering your field of vision and just a moment later, the same pair of eyes appears right in front of your face as Oikawa leans down and presses little kisses to your cheeks, lips and forehead. A groggy smile lights up your face as you lift up one of your arms and lazily push one of his damp strands out of his face.
“Hello there, sleepyhead,” he hums, before placing one more kiss against your temple and stands back up. He motions to the cup on the table, saying: “I thought you could use a little pick-me-up.”
You slowly sit up, still feeling a bit drowsy, but manage to stretch out your arms and grab the cup. Holding it tightly in both of your hands, you bring the cup to your lips and take a big gulp, closing your eyes for a second to revel in the deliciously bitter taste that’s complimented by just the right amount of milk and sugar. When you open your eyes again, you sigh happily, feeling the last vestiges of tiredness falling away from you.
Oikawa has seated himself next to you on the couch, with his legs crossed. You turn in his direction, wanting to thank him for his attentiveness, but instead, as you finally get a good look at him (now that your mind has shed its shackles of residue sleep) you let out a snort of laughter.
You have to place the cup you have been clinging to on the table, and still you accidentally spill some of its contents on the glass surface as a laughing fit causes your whole body to shake.
“Just what the heck are you wearing?” you giggle when you finally settle down and wipe away the tears of laughter that have formed in your eyes.
Oikawa seems completely unfazed by your sudden outburst as he’s sitting back on the couch, his arms loosely thrown over the backrest.
In all seriousness, this guy is ridiculous. He’s wearing the cheesiest Christmas sweater you have ever seen. It’s red with a white pattern of rows of reindeer and snowmen, and in the middle, large green letters read Merry Christmas. And the worst thing about it? He still looks dashing. It’s almost annoying just how dashing he looks in it, and how the charming, almost lazy smile adorning his lips lets him pull off even something like that.
“Do you like it?”, he finally asks as he scoots closer to you, moving one of his arms from the backrest to your waist in order to pull you against his side.
You eye him warily, not wanting to hurt his feelings by saying it’s the ugliest damn sweater you’ve ever seen, as you know he’s really excited about this whole Christmas thing (and you are too, but it doesn’t mean you have to be so blatantly obvious about it and go completely overboard). Yet, you can’t bring yourself to lie straight to his face either, so you try to keep it as vague and neutral as possible by saying: “Its… interesting.”
He ignores your careful statement by putting his other arm around you and nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck, making you wonder if he even listened to your words, but to be honest, you’re mighty thankful you don’t have to voice what you’re really thinking and risk putting him into one of his sulky moods.
Returning his hug, you rest your chin on his shoulder, inhaling his scent and savoring the sensation of his fingers tracing little circles on your back, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. He doesn’t give you much time to enjoy his sweet touches, however, as he suddenly lets go of you and slowly pulls back. Your eyes don’t leave his face as he looks at you intently, as though he’s searching for something.
And he seems to have found it, because a few moments later, his features relax and the smile returns to his face.
“That reminds me…” His voice breaks through the silence that has settled between the two of you, while you have been observing each other. You tilt your head slightly and with a little nod make him understand he has your full attention.
Much to your surprise, however, Oikawa turns away from you. He leans over the other end of the couch. You hear the sound of rustling, and lift your eyebrows, wondering just what in hell he’s up to now. Your unasked question is answered when he turns around again with outstretched arms.
You look from the box in his hands to his face and back to the box.
“Merry Christmas~”
“Merry Christmas,” you echo his words, sounding much less enthusiastic and extremely confused as you take the present from him and place it in your lap.
Once more, you look down at the box wrapped in colorful wrapping paper which looks just as cheesy as the sweater he’s wearing, with its pattern of snowflakes and gingerbread men. You lift an eyebrow. That had reminded him? What exactly had reminded him? Staring at your face? Talking about that ugly swea—
Not daring to end your train of thought, your eyes widen in horror. No, he surely didn’t… he wouldn’t… But as you rip at the paper in sudden haste, ignoring the delighted chuckles and your boyfriend’s “someone really loves presents”, you are proven wrong. He would. And he did.
With a look of incredulousness chiseled on your features, you hold up the sweater, which looks exactly like the one Oikawa is wearing, just a few sizes smaller.
“I got us matching sweaters,” he purrs, and you have to fight the urge of replying with a snarky No shit! It isn’t that you’re particularly picky or anything, and you do appreciate the sentiment, hell, you’re even somewhat moved he wants to wear matching stuff. But… did he have to pick something like these? Surely keychains would’ve done the trick as well.
“Let me help you put it on!”
His voice startles you out of your thoughts and your eyes dart to his face, taking in his content expression. A wave of guilt sweeps over you, leaving you with a tight knot pressing against the wall of your stomach. He really seems to be… genuinely happy. You sigh inwardly as you take off your cardigan, before stretching up your arms so he can put on the sweater more easily. For a moment, everything around you is blended out as Oikawa tugs the wooly fabric over your head and you hear him resuming his whistling from earlier.
When the deed is done and you can see him again, the first thing you notice is the pleased look on his face. You could have sworn you saw a self-satisfied twinkle in his eyes for a fraction of a second, but just as you squint to look at it more closely, it’s already gone. Maybe it was just your imagination.
Oikawa lets his hands run down your sides, straightening out the lumps and applying just that little bit of extra pressure that makes you understand his gesture isn’t as innocent as it appears. But before you can open your mouth to protest, he has already seized you by the waist and pulled you into his lap. You sit there frozen for a moment, but when he rests his chin on top of your head, you decide to let it go, and put your ear against his chest to listen to the steady beat of his heart.
Before long, your fingers start playing with the hem of your sweater, a habit you’ve had ever since you can remember. While other girls twirled strands of hair around their fingers or tapped their fingernails on tables, you kept your hands busy fumbling around with the sleeves, seams or hems of your shirts. The wool feels soft under your fingertips, and once more, you feel guilt scratching at the doors to your consciousness as you realize that it’s really good quality and surely must have cost him a small fortune. You snuggle further into his chest, causing him to sigh contently and press a kiss on your hairline. Your fingers continue their task, until they suddenly come in contact with a different material, something sturdier, feeling oddly out of place.
Halting in your movements, you turn the hem inside out. You hardly even realize that Oikawa is leaning back as you inspect the little piece of fabric sewn into the sweatshirt. It’s a small square of cotton, in which three words are embroidered. The handwriting – if you can call it that – is horrible, most certainly done by a hand that has never before sewn anything, and for a moment pictures of Oikawa wearing band-aids on several fingers and telling you he’s cut himself while helping his mom prepare dinner from a couple weeks ago flash before your inner eye. You have to strain your eyes to make out what the embroidery says. But when you finally decipher it, you unwittingly hold your breath. It reads I love you.
“So, you’ve finally found it, hm? Took you long enough,” Oikawa says with a hint of mocking in his tone, but when you look up at him, his expression is one of pure affection.
The world around you becomes blurry as tears begin to fill your eyes. You are at a loss for words, so deeply moved that it takes you several moments to regain composure and to get a grip on yourself again. It’s not only that he has put so much thought into the placement of the embroidery, which makes you realize just how close attention he’s actually paying to you, your little quirks and habits. But also the fact that although you’ve been dating Oikawa for quite a while now and you’ve told each other countless times that you like each other, neither one of you has yet spoken the magical three words. Until now.
Seeing you so dumbstruck, struggling to find the right words to say, Oikawa seems to decide you need a little bit of help. He cups your cheeks with his hands and puts his forehead to yours. His eyes are staring straight into yours and although they, just like his mouth, seem to be smiling, you can see the seriousness in them.
“I love you.”
The words roll from his lips, sounding strong and confident.
And finally, you jolt out of your stupor. You nibble on your lower lip as you move your own hands to his face, before leaning in and pressing a butterfly kiss to his lips. When you pull back, your faces are still so close to one another that the tips of your noses are touching.
“I love you, too,” you whisper back.
Oikawa chuckles and rubs his nose against yours affectionately. When he speaks up again, his words are filled with good-natured amusement: “So, how do you like the sweater now?”
You lean back slightly, putting a finger to your chin and pretending to mull over his question, before you playfully chime: “I’m kind of taking a liking to it. I guess I’ll get used to wearing it.”
Humming softly, his lips curl into a grin, and the mischievous sparkle you had seen earlier today returns to his eyes.
“I’m glad. Just make sure you don’t get too used to wearing it, because I plan to see you out of it very soon,” he coos and before your mind can even process the meaning of his words, he captures your lips in a kiss that literally takes your breath away.