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“Iwa-chaaan!”
Iwaizumi sighed. “What is it this time?”
Oikawa’s outrage was overblown to the point of parody, his jaw dropping open. “What’s with that welcome?”
He flipped his hair back with a pout, and a bout of giggles came from a nearby table. It always seemed to be like this when he was around. There was something about the wave of his bangs or the shine of his eyes that caught people’s attention. Iwaizumi supposed he should appreciate the new visitors he brought along with him to the library, but there was something about it that bugged him. Maybe it was the self-aggrandising aura the man tended to give off every time he got a reaction from them.
“Well, it’s not like you’re going to check anything out. You never even read anything when you come here. I’m not sure you can read at this point.”
Oikawa huffed. “I can read. Why else would I be here almost every day?”
“That’s what I want to know, too.” Iwaizumi pushed his glasses further up his nose. “And why does it mean you’re always here bothering me?”
“This is your job.”
“It’s not my job to babysit you.”
“I’m an adult!”
“Really? I couldn’t tell.” Iwaizumi smirked at the expression he received in return.
“I’m a professional athlete, you know?” Oikawa crossed his arms, leaning against the desk. “One of the best setters in the country. I’m hardly a child.”
“So you keep telling me.”
“Did you watch?”
“Huh?”
“The game. That’s why I wasn’t here last week.” Oikawa shrugged. “Remember? I knew you’d miss me, so I told you what channel it would be on.”
“Oh, you did?” Iwaizumi asked. “Your voice reminds me of a fly, so sometimes I just naturally filter it out.”
“So you didn’t watch it?”
Iwaizumi blinked, rolling his shoulders back. “You wanted me to? I thought you were just trying to show off.”
Oikawa pressed his lips together, his gaze combing over the nearby shelves. His reaction was strangely understated compared to his usual response to a perceived slight. A young woman beamed at him, and he didn’t even acknowledge her.
Iwaizumi sighed.
“What do you want from me, Oikawa? You completely fumbled your final serve. Is that what you want to hear?”
“I knew you watched it!” Oikawa brightened immediately, spinning around to plant both hands on the desk. “Did you see my string of ace serves in the second set? Impressive, no?”
Of course, he just wanted to opportunity to gloat.
“So, are you planning to loan a book or . . .?”
“Are you into volleyball?
Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”
“I know these things.”
“Geez, you’re annoying.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, discomfort blooming in his chest. “I used to play a bit.”
“Not anymore?” Oikawa leant forward, his eyes blazing the same way he’d noticed they would every time he’d stepped up to serve.
“Nope. It’s a good thing too because arrogant pretty boys like you get on my nerves.” Iwaizumi whacked him on the head with a flimsy children’s book from a stack beside him. “I already have to put up with you enough as it is.”
“Ow.” Oikawa rubbed his forehead, retreating slightly, but not enough to leave his personal bubble. “Jealousy isn't a good look, Iwa-chan.”
“Like I'd be jealous of someone who even can't read.”
“I told you, I can read!”
“When's the last time you read a novel?”
“That's not the point.” Oikawa huffed. “Anyway, why don't you play anymore? You should. I could always mentor you—I am a highly-ranked setter, after all.”
“Not interested,” Iwaizumi said. “And maybe get a hobby. It’s pretty weird to talk about your job this much. Are you like this with every cashier, librarian, and retail worker you meet? Or am I just unlucky?”
“If you keep being so mean, I'm going to start thinking you don't like me.”
“What made you think I liked you in the first place?”
“I know these things.”
“You seem pretty presumptuous to me.” Iwaizumi frowned, defensiveness pinching his shoulders. “Maybe you just think these things.”
“No. I know them.”
They met each other's eyes. There was a stagnant silence between them as Iwaizumi tried to formulate a response. Before he could think of anything to say, a woman approached them, holding a pair of books to her chest. Her gaze flitted over to Oikawa before offering Iwaizumi a polite smile.
“Hello.” She planted the books on the desk, her head lowered. A delicate hand reached up to catch a strand of hair and tuck it behind an ear.
Iwaizumi tightened his jaw to stop himself from pulling a face. He'd had to put up with this scenario a surprising number of times during his stint as a librarian. Usually, it was awkward teenagers flustering their way through a conversation that went nowhere while he attempted to do his job. Somehow, it was far more uncomfortable coming from adults.
“Excuse me, are you Oikawa? I'm a big fan.’
‘Thanks for your support.’ Oikawa winked, and Iwaizumi felt a bit ill. ‘It's always a pleasure to meet a fan.’
With efficiency he didn't usually bother to employ, he scanned her choices and pushed them back towards her. But it was too late. She didn't even look at the books, her lovestruck eyes latched onto Oikawa with a feverish intensity.
Get me out of here.
“Can I have your autograph?”
“Of course! Who should I sign it to?”
Iwaizumi peered around the impromptu meet-and-greet to see if anyone needed his attention. Most people were comfortable checking out their own books, which was why he usually appreciated the job. Until a certain someone came along.
He pushed himself up from his seat, ignoring the fatigue that weighed on him. It was a bad day for symptoms, but he could handle it. There was something about the thought of Oikawa noticing his lethargy that he hated. His heart fluttered.
I should get a glass of water while I'm up.
“Iwa-chan? Where are you going?”
Iwaizumi blinked, frozen in place. He’d thought Oikawa had been distracted enough to let him be, but he’d been sorely mistaken. “To do my job.”
The woman did not look pleased that he had stolen Oikawa’s attention from her. She looked at the pen that was paused midway through a signature, her smile strained.
“Why are you talking about your job so much? Maybe get a hobby or something.” Oikawa grinned.
“I'm at my job. Not just bringing it up out of nowhere.”
“Don't speak to him like that!” The woman frowned. “You should have some respect, you know? You're talking to a very successful man.”
Oikawa smirked. “That you are, Iwa-chan. It's about time you noticed.”
“Why do you need me to notice your success?”
“I . . .” Oikawa hummed thoughtfully, averting his eyes.
“He doesn't need you for anything!” The woman piped up again, placing her half-signed paper on the desk and crossing her arms. “Who are you, anyway? Why should he care what you think?”
Oikawa waved his hands in front of his face. “No, no, I do care what Iwa-chan thinks.”
“Huh? Do you know this guy?” The fan looked sceptical as she looked between them both.
“Sure, he's a great friend of mine!”
“I barely know this man.”
“Iwa-chan’s just modest. We're spiritual childhood friends, the two of us.”
“Aww, that's so sweet!” The woman clutched her hands to her chest. “You're so kind, Oikawa.”
Iwaizumi scowled. All he wanted was to get on with his day, and here he was, being treated like a sickly child blessed with a visit from their personal hero.
“It's nothing. In fact, since we're so close, I've decided to take him under my wing as my new volleyball protégé.” Oikawa lowered his voice. “But you're the first to know, so don't tell anyone, okay? Iwa-chan here is going to be the next rising star.”
“No, I'm not.”
Oikawa faltered at the instant rejection. The fan beside him cleared her throat, her stare digging into Iwaizumi.
“There's no need to be shy.” Oikawa laughed boyishly, running his hand through his hair. “I could see your potential straight away.”
“I can't play volleyball,” Iwaizumi said before his nose wrinkled. “Are you even supposed to be trying to recruit people?”
“Well, that's what I'm here for. I'll teach you everything you need to know.”
“No. I literally can't play.” Iwaizumi shifted his weight, planning his escape route to the return basket. “Doctor's orders. No competitive sports.”
“Oh, man.” Oikawa let out a breath. “You might be right about me fumbling that last serve, but I think I've one-upped myself now.”
“Don't be so hard on yourself!” The woman took her cue to reassure him. “You played so well this week, and your serving was so impressive, I couldn't take my eyes off of you.”
“You can find a more suitable protégé, anyway.” Iwaizumi shrugged. “I don’t know why you thought a library was the best place to scout for new talent in the first place.”
Oikawa groaned, hanging his head. ‘What a strategic failure. I'm embarrassed.”
“I think it's nice that you wanted to give people at the library a chance!” The woman patted his shoulder.
“Hah . . . Well . . .” Oikawa pursed his lips. “I didn't really. Why would I want to train up competition for myself?”
“You didn't want to teach me?” Iwaizumi asked.
“It's not that. It would've been a bit more casual, that's all.”
“Why ask then?” Iwaizumi's brow furrowed. “What do you get out of that?”
“It's more of a personal benefit rather than professional.”
“Because the two of you are such great friends!” The woman no longer looked bothered by Iwaizumi's involvement in the conversation, apparently bewitched by the concept of Oikawa having a social life.
“We're really not.” Iwaizumi sighed. “I don't know what this guy's talking about.”
“Why do you insist on rejecting me, Iwa-chaaan?”
“I—Wha . . .?” Iwaizumi cleared his throat. “I just told you, I can't play. My heart can't handle it.”
“Well, my heart can't handle how mean you are to me.”
“Are you sure I'm not babysitting you right now?”
Instead of an offended retort, Oikawa cocked his head, his expression growing serious. “I've been spending too much time training. Clearly, I'm out of practice.”
“No, you're not.” The woman perked up. “This week's game was one of your best yet!”
“That's not . . .” After a moment of thought, Oikawa leaned over to the desk and finally signed her paper. “Sorry about that. I got distracted for a bit there. Thanks for all your support!”
The woman seemed a bit disappointed to be so blatantly dismissed, but she took it in stride. With a final request for a hug and a bout of gushing praise, she left.
“You've been rambling a lot today,” Iwaizumi said. “More than usual.”
Oikawa sighed. Prompted by a flare of fatigue, Iwaizumi returned to his desk, folding his hands on top of the stained pine. As if in direct response to his comment, a long period of silence followed, only punctuated by distant whispers and fluttering pages.
“You want to train me as a rising star, then you don't want to train me,” Iwaizumi spoke up once the atmosphere finally got the better of him. “Are you having some sort of volleyball-related existential crisis or something?”
“It's not about volleyball.” Suddenly, Oikawa sat on the chair across from him. “How come you're so indifferent to me? So much for my charm.”
“Indifferent?” Iwaizumi frowned. “I wouldn't say that. I told you, I find conceited schmoozers like you pretty irritating. That's not really indifference.”
“I'm serious.”
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “So am I—you're annoying. If you want something from me, just say it. I don't need charming.”
Oikawa scowled at that. “I want to charm you. What do you think I've been wasting my time here for? I'm an athlete. I have better things to do with my time than read.”
Ah, I get it now.
“At least you admit it.”
“I thought volleyball would be the perfect way to get to know each other.” Oikawa pouted. “Figures you can't even play.”
“Do all players complain as much as you? Or are you a special case?”
Oikawa pushed up from his chair, brushing his hair from his face. His stance was casual, but Iwaizumi could see the tension in his shoulders as he stepped away from the desk. “I get it.”
“What, you're not even going to try asking me out directly?”
Oikawa’s expression froze. It seemed he wasn't prepared to be faced with such a blatant question, his composure shaken in a way he'd had never been lucky enough to witness before. He breathed out slowly, and a conflicted look eclipsed his face. “I've never had to do that before.”
Iwaizumi scoffed. I shouldn't even be surprised at this point. “It might do you some good. You'd be more charming with a bit more humility.”
Clearing his throat, Oikawa rocked back onto his heels. He was clearly facing some sort of internal battle at the thought of having to be straightforward—like it was a betrayal of his charisma—but he didn't contemplate for too long. “Do you want to go out sometime?”
A part of Iwaizumi wanted to decline, just to watch him squirm, but his fluttering heart wasn't hardened enough to go through with it. “What would we do?”
Oikawa faltered. His brow furrowed, his sharp eyes scanning the room. The question seemed to leave him scrambling for a response, but eventually, their eyes met again.
“Are there any books you'd recommend?”