Work Text:
The moment Ushijima returned from the gym to find over a dozen missed calls from both Oikawa Tooru and his manager, he felt a chill run down his spine, like a massive storm was quietly brewing on the horizon.
Ushijima’s first concern wasn’t even the missed calls, but the fact that Oikawa had been awake at 7 a.m. — something that only ever happened when the Earth shifted its axis, or when Oikawa accidentally set his alarm to New York time. And yet here Tooru was, not only wide awake but also calling him nonstop. Whatever the company matter was, it could wait; this wasn’t the first time his manager had spammed his phone either.
Not even bothering to dry his damp hair, Ushijima immediately tapped the familiar name in his contacts. Oikawa Tooru was the kind of person who only called when it was urgent. Otherwise, he much preferred sending long texts detailing why he was angry, always accompanied by crying duck stickers.
"It’s your fault."
That was the first thing Oikawa said once the line connected. Ushijima paused, confused about what he might have done wrong this time. Also, that line sounded oddly familiar.
"Wait… are you… pregnant or something?"
On the other end, there was a sharp, pained inhale. The kind of breath Oikawa always took whenever Ushijima said something that pushed the boundaries of human patience.
"Of course not, Ushiwaka! I’m a guy! Did you even pass biology?!" Oikawa shouted, his voice laced with both frustration and exasperated amusement. "Have you checked social media this morning? Or were you too busy doing crunches in the gym?"
Ushijima blinked, put the phone down for a second, and opened up his social media.
His screen was instantly flooded with notifications, each one like a slap across the face. As he scrolled, a series of candid photos from the night before filled his feed: the two of them leaving Oikawa’s studio after Ushijima came to pick him up for dinner, Oikawa smiling brightly as he adjusted Ushijima’s scarf, and a moment where Ushijima leaned in to whisper something into Oikawa’s ear, his hand unconsciously resting on Oikawa’s waist. There was even a shot of Ushijima kneeling to tie Oikawa’s shoelaces, his expression soft and impossibly gentle under the night sky.
The first thought that flashed through his mind, like a lightning strike: we got caught.
After a long pause staring at the images, Ushijima finally said, honestly:
"The photographer was pretty skilled. They caught your good angle."
"Your head’s the one I want to knock some sense into!" Oikawa yelled, though now his voice carried a hint of helplessness. "Ushiwaka, people think we’re dating! My agency just called for an emergency meeting. Yours has been blowing up my phone too, asking where you are! Do you realize how big this is?!"
Hearing the seriousness in his lover’s tone, Ushijima wisely decided to shut up. As someone with zero crisis management skills, he knew this was Oikawa’s arena now. His professional idol mode had fully switched on.
Oikawa grumbled:
"Don’t post anything tonight, don’t upload any stories, don’t like any photos, got it? The more you speak, the more suspicious everyone gets."
Ushijima nodded obediently. After a pause, he asked quietly:
"…Can I still hug you?"
There was a long silence on the other end. And in that moment, amid the brewing scandal, Oikawa couldn’t help but laugh.
To outsiders, this would appear to be just another emerging romantic scandal in the entertainment industry. A blurry video clip, a few secretly taken photos, along with the undeniably tender expression of a male idol with enviable biceps. But for those who had been following the entertainment industry for the past five years, this incident was not simply a dating rumor. This was a collision between two names that couldn't share the same sky, at least in the media.
If you walked down a bustling street in the glamorous capital, up to 70% of the advertisement signs you'd encounter would feature Oikawa Tooru's face. The remaining 10% were also likely to be Oikawa, but bootlegged, enlarged from fan-taken photos, and pasted onto face wash advertisements with transparent tape. People called him by beautiful titles—"the nation's muse," "the visual emperor," or at the very least, everyone from 12 to 62 years old, whether longtime fans or just passersby who glimpsed his street advertisements, had once sighed in admiration of his beauty.
Debuting as the main vocalist and center of the boy group Seijoh, Oikawa Tooru quickly became an irreplaceable face in the new generation idol wave. But what built Seijoh's solid position in the current market wasn't just his perfect face. From his trainee days until now, every song Seijoh had ever performed bore Oikawa Tooru's name in the composition credits. He was the one who regularly stayed in the recording studio past midnight to adjust a harmony he wasn't satisfied with, the one who typed lyrics on an old laptop while eating instant noodles backstage at award shows when the group hadn't quite made it big yet, and the one whose name was called whenever the group received an important award marking each milestone of growth for a boy band known for being "self-producing."
For Oikawa, songwriting wasn't just about telling the group's story, but about giving each member a frame, a spotlight, a moment to be seen and loved. Fans often joked with him that no one loved Seijoh as much as Oikawa Tooru did. And it was precisely this love that made him never accept the fact that his group, a self-producing, self-growing group that wrote its path, kept losing every comeback season to another name.
The second name on Oikawa's social media search list, besides Seijoh, was Shiratorizawa.
On paper, there was no reason for Seijoh and Shiratorizawa to be at odds with each other. Both groups debuted in the same year, stood together in the top ranks, had no member scandals, didn't compete in the same brand sectors, and their management companies had no particular grudges.
But fate had a way of playing tricks. Somehow, their comeback schedules almost always overlapped.
And every time Seijoh dropped a sophisticated new ballad, just a few hours later, Shiratorizawa would release a music video smashing through walls, rapping like punches to the chest, and Ushijima somehow always tearing his shirt off.
Over nearly five years, Shiratorizawa had consistently outnumbered Seijoh in weekly music show wins. Seijoh, despite being praised for having a unique identity and consistent artistic growth, often found themselves quietly sitting in the back row at award ceremonies. Gradually, an unspoken tension formed between the fandoms.
The center of the famous boy group Shiratorizawa, Ushijima Wakatoshi, was the type of idol you wouldn't see making vlogs about breakfast, livestreaming casual chats with fans, or sending cute messages like "Today's TMI is that I miss my fans so much." Simply because most of the time, Ushijima couldn't remember his social media passwords and didn't know how to take beautiful photos. If Oikawa Tooru could find his perfect angle in one second before a camera, Ushijima only needed to ensure his face was still within the frame before pressing the shutter. And yet, every time his group made a comeback, Ushijima was still the one dominating the trending charts.
Ushijima simply breathed, and someone watching behind a screen forgot how to.
No one really understood why he was so popular. Maybe because he wore a tank top twice and fans never recovered. Maybe it was the commanding aura he brought to every stage, especially when he rapped. Or maybe it was that one time, after accepting an award, when asked if he had anything to say to fans, he replied:
"Thank you. I’ll keep singing… and make sure no one else takes our trophy again."
That one line started a fandom war in under a day. And as for Ushijima himself, he got dragged backstage by his lover and bitten on the lip with a face full of injustice.
"You can’t say things like that, Ushiwaka."
"I was just being honest."
"You were being honest on live TV while we were losing and sitting there watching you accept a trophy. Do you even realize how that felt?"
Ushijima, too busy kissing the pretty face in his arms, didn’t hear a word.
"If you publicly provoke us like that again next time," Oikawa warned seriously while pushing Ushijima’s clinging face away, "we'll have to break up temporarily until your company learns how to avoid other groups' comeback schedules!"
Though feeling very wronged, Ushijima could sense Oikawa's frustration from losing the award, so he wisely kept his mouth shut. In the phrase "other groups," Ushijima had never counted Seijoh. Because in his eyes, Oikawa was never a rival. Oikawa was his lover.
Ushijima loved Oikawa to the point where sometimes he couldn't hide his feelings from the cameras. They had been caught up in dating rumors before, the kind that even Oikawa Tooru, with all his charm and a hundred clever excuses, found hard to deny.
Like the incident that happened at the year-end awards ceremony last year. Under the dazzling stage lights, Ushijima stood silently among the Shiratorizawa members, his black suit fitting snugly against his body, exuding his usual solemn appearance. Across the hall, beyond the shimmering sea of lights, his eyes couldn’t help but drift toward Oikawa Tooru, who stood with Seijoh in the far corner. In his brilliant blue suit, with that perfect smile and magnetic presence, Oikawa stood out even in a crowded hall.
But what made Ushijima unable to look away were Oikawa's plump lips, coated with a delicate layer of glossy lipstick that reflected the sparkling lights every time he tilted his head.
That gloss even tasted like strawberry, Ushijima secretly thought of Oikawa's flushed face when he pulled him into the venue's restroom and claimed those lips.
The lighting in the restroom was dimmer than outside. There were no cameras, no crowds, no teammates or rivals, just two people standing face to face in the thick silence. Oikawa leaned back slightly, half in disbelief that Ushijima would take such a risk in a place like this. Yet, his body had melted into the embrace. Ushijima’s hand was warm on the back of his neck, like it was searing into his skin. The way he tilted his head, the gentle brush of his lips along the lower edge of Oikawa’s mouth before lingering there an extra beat, felt like he was branding him with something wordless.
"My makeup... I still have to go on stage later."
Oikawa murmured, gently pushing Ushijima away, reluctant only because the warmth of his lips still lingered around his own. Ushijima, despite the quickened breath, stopped when asked. His voice was low and steady.
"It's okay if we don't kiss. Just let me hold you for a while."
Ushijima wasn’t good with sweet words. But every time he spoke, it felt like he was opening his whole heart and placing it gently into Oikawa’s hands. Naive, simple, but heartbreakingly sincere. Oikawa’s lashes trembled as he battled the urge to pull him back in for another kiss or escape the room before their managers came looking.
That night, Shiratorizawa was announced as the winner for Best Male Group. A result that wasn't too surprising. From the stage, Ushijima's eyes locked onto Oikawa in the audience as if the entire venue contained only them. Oikawa turned away shyly, unable to keep looking.
But because of that, he missed an important detail.
That evening, Shiratorizawa's concept still carried their signature strong and cold style, so clearly none of them used lip gloss. Therefore, when close-up photos of Ushijima were posted online by fans, the faint shimmer on his lips immediately became unusual. A streak of moist shine, light pink and sparkling, reflecting the stage lights like dewdrops. Oikawa only needed to glance at his phone screen to immediately recognize it. That was exactly the lipstick color he had used for tonight's concept. Rose Dew, the newly launched No. 05 Blooming Coral shade, which only he used, and he was the brand ambassador. The type of lipstick with characteristic tiny crystal shimmer, to the point where just the right angle would make people immediately understand this couldn't be a lighting effect.
The public didn’t catch on in full force, but some curious fans certainly noticed. On the ride back to the dorm, Oikawa scrolled through photos of Ushijima, his lips slightly parted as if he’d just tasted something too sweet.
The only one he’d kissed. A color only he wore. That quiet thrill of leaving a trace of love in plain sight for the world to see.
His phone lit up with a notification when Ushijima's message arrived, containing only lines so foolish they even had periods at the end of sentences.
"I'm sorry for being careless, but that lipstick color only looks beautiful on your lips."
Oikawa laughed alone, gently pressing his phone to his chest.
It felt like a child clutching a secret gift. A little mischievous, a little tender, so lovely it almost hurt.
However, as a celebrity with superior media crisis management skills and a career spanning more than five years without a single scandal, Oikawa still had to step in to handle situations whenever Ushijima carelessly revealed something dangerous before the cameras. For someone as famous as Ushijima, even an unexplained streak of lip gloss could become fuel for a bigger controversy. Oikawa understood this better than anyone.
So just a few days later, when Shiratorizawa had a schedule at the airport, a capless lip balm rolled out of Ushijima's jacket pocket when he bent down to check his phone.
A plain ivory tube, without a brand to avoid copyright issues, with the tip slightly shiny as if recently used. Ushijima picked it up, a little confused. It was the same coat he had draped over Oikawa the night they snuck out for a late-night drive. Since then, he’d casually worn it again without realizing he was carrying a perfect "cover story" in his pocket.
The image of Ushijima holding such an ordinary item was quickly captured by reporters and fans, and some commenters quickly connected it to the strange shine on his lips at the awards ceremony. Public opinion quickly shifted toward searching for the lip balm brand Ushijima used, even speculating whether he would collaborate with a cosmetics line.
Ushijima opened his phone to ask Oikawa if it was his. Instead, he found a cheeky kiss sticker already waiting.
"Remember to check your jacket pockets before going out next time."
But this time, no matter how clever Oikawa was, there was no covering up those photos.
A stick of lip balm could hide a gloss.
But not a lingering arm around someone’s waist.
Not the gentle look of someone tying another person’s shoelaces.
Oikawa sat curled up in the middle of the dorm’s living room, hugging his laptop as it whirred at full speed. His phone lay beside him, still buzzing with constant notifications, a silent alarm to the media storm that was closing in. Iwaizumi, passing by with a cup of coffee in hand, stopped short. He gave Oikawa a light smack on the head.
"I told you to be more careful, idiot." His voice was rough, but his eyes held worry.
Oikawa looked up, his eyes glistening as if he was about to cry but still trying to maintain his stubborn demeanor. "I didn't do it on purpose, Iwa-chan! How was I supposed to know there were paparazzi cameras around?" He buried his face in his hands. "And that whole waist-hugging thing... I don't know how to explain this to the company now!"
"So what’s your plan? You can’t just pull another lip balm out of nowhere and hope it explains all those photos." He raised an eyebrow, clearly trying not to smirk. "Unless you’re gonna say Ushijima was just checking your waistline as a good friend."
Oikawa let out a laugh despite his heavy mood. "Iwa-chan, stop teasing me! I'm having a crisis here!" only to receive a shrug from his best friend.
"Then brace yourself. I just saw your manager running down the hallway like his life depended on it. Either he’s rushing to an emergency meeting, or he’s trying to flee before the company collapses."
Oikawa groaned and leaned back in his chair. "I just wanted a peaceful idol life. Comebacks with trophies, a cheerful fanbase, a quiet romance… Why does no one understand me?"
"A quiet romance?" Iwaizumi’s brow arched. "You kissed the guy in an award show restroom. Got caught adjusting his scarf. He even hugged your waist. You were one step away from having sex right there. What part of that was peaceful?"
Oikawa jumped up, his face flushed red: "That’s Ushiwaka’s fault! He’s always doing affectionate stuff without even realizing it. I thought I was covered head to toe. How was I supposed to know someone would notice!"
Before Iwaizumi could respond, Oikawa's phone lit up again. This time it wasn't a text message, but an official announcement posted on the company's SNS account.
[NOTICE]
We would like to officially announce the following:
Currently, Aoba Johsai Entertainment and Shiratorizawa Entertainment are in the process of preparing for a special collaborative music project between the two artists, scheduled to debut in the near future.
The evening when the artists were photographed was actually after an extended recording session that ran longer than expected, as part of the collaboration between the two companies. Due to the confidential nature of the production schedule until the appropriate time, the parties had not yet announced the details to the public.
Information about the collaboration product will be announced as soon as possible.
Oikawa stared at the screen, too stunned to speak. The phone slipped from his hands and landed with a soft thud on his lap.
"...What? They... announced it already? But... I haven't even written a single song yet!"
Iwaizumi was silent for a moment, then burst out laughing.
"Well... at least the company responded quickly. And they're even trying to redirect public opinion toward music. Who's going to remember the scarf incident or the waist-grabbing now?"
Oikawa's mouth hung open as if he'd just been slapped. "But what about Shiratorizawa? Does Ushiwaka know?!"
Not even ten minutes passed before an update appeared on Shiratorizawa Entertainment’s official account.
[UPDATE]
Currently, Shiratorizawa Entertainment finds it difficult to confirm any information from the artist. All recent personal schedules of artist Ushijima Wakatoshi have been conducted according to internal procedures.
If there is official information about collaborative products, we will announce it through official channels.
Public opinion went silent for exactly 3 minutes, then social media immediately exploded.
__ Wait, is this a love confession or a collab announcement? One side’s like, "Yes, we’re together," the other side’s like, "I can’t comment at this time."
__ Can’t confirm? What does that even mean? So they ARE dating?
__ If it’s just a collab, why is he tying his shoes for him?
__ Turns out my boyfriend and I aren't even qualified to collab on music. He's never tied my shoelaces for me.
Meanwhile, Ushijima Wakatoshi, the man at the center of the storm, was still quietly cleaning his room. With a feather duster in one hand and an earbud in the other, he had absolutely no idea the internet was on fire with his name.
Until his manager banged on the door like he was about to break it down.
"Ushijima! Have you seen SNS yet?"
Ushijima pulled his earbud out, tilted his head.
"SNS? I haven’t posted anything."
"Not you! Your boyfriend’s company! I mean, Oikawa’s company! They just… oh god…" The manager fumbled with his phone, shoving it into Ushijima’s hands to show the press release that was racking up thousands of comments by the second.
Ushijima read it from top to bottom. He blinked twice. "So… we’re actually doing a collab?"
"You’re asking me?" The manager looked like he wanted to scream. "Did you two record anything together? Is there a project? Or were those photos real? Please don’t tell me you really hugged his waist and tied his laces."
Ushijima placed the duster on the table and looked perfectly calm, a demeanor that only made his manager more hysterical.
"We didn’t record anything," Ushijima answered in his usual low, even tone. "But I did tie his laces. And I did hug him. I do that a lot."
The manager covered his face with both hands, mumbling something about wanting to file a resignation letter immediately. He took a deep breath and tried again. "Alright, Ushijima. Listen, Oikawa's company is trying to control the situation by saying you two are just working together. But if you keep answering 'I hug him often' to the press, no collab story will save you! You need to get your story straight with Oikawa, right now!"
Ushijima was silent for a moment, his gaze drifting to the floor as if thinking. Then he took out his phone and opened his messages with Oikawa. The last message was from a few minutes ago: "Ushiwaka, have you seen my company's announcement? Just go along with it, don't say anything weird to the press!!!" followed by a series of panicked cat face stickers.
He smiled slightly, a rare smile that made the manager beside him want to cry. No one ever noticed when the two were happily in love, but the moment a scandal hit, the managers were the first to suffer.
Ushijima quickly typed a reply to Oikawa: "Okay, I'll listen to you completely."
The manager who had been nervously standing beside him with a face about to collapse finally breathed a sigh of relief seeing Ushijima cooperate. "Good, very good," he muttered. "Now call Oikawa immediately, get your story straight. Whatever bastard in media management drove the entire fandom crazy with that 'don't know' announcement drier than my end-of-month meals, don't make things worse!"
Ushijima nodded and called Oikawa. After just two rings, Oikawa's familiar voice came through, sounding both irritated and panicked.
"Ushiwaka! Do you have any idea what I’m dealing with right now?!"
His voice was practically a scream, making Ushijima pull the phone slightly away from his ear.
"My company’s making me write a song for a fake collab that doesn’t exist! Write it myself, record it myself, manage everything myself! They said it’s my fault for starting this mess, so I have to fix it! Do you think that’s fair?!"
Ushijima listened quietly. His eyes were calm, but the corners of his lips curved faintly when he heard the annoyed pout in Oikawa’s voice.
"Yes. Very unfair."
"Exactly! And then my manager had the nerve to say I should feel grateful for getting to collaborate with my greatest rival! Do you have any idea how that felt—"
"Let me come help."
"…Huh?" Oikawa went still. "What did you just say?"
"I’ll come to you. We’ll write the song together."
"W-wait! I didn’t say I needed you here!"
"But you’re upset. And you need help. And I…" Ushijima paused, voice softening. "I want to see you."
The other end of the line went completely silent, then suddenly hung up.
Ushijima looked at the screen, showing no surprise. He still stood up, put on his jacket, and grabbed his car keys.
Less than thirty seconds later, a text message arrived.
"Studio 3rd floor, soundproof room at the end of the hall. If you step on the recording cables, I’m really gonna block you."
Ushijima smiled, enough to make his manager shudder:
"Please don't tell me you're going somewhere again?"
"Going to write music."
"I’ve never seen anyone look so morally questionable just to write a song…"
And that's why on a beautiful Sunday when Oikawa should have been enjoying his rare day off, he and Ushijima found themselves eating milk bread (mostly Oikawa eating) while lamenting and chasing ideas for this collaboration that had fallen from the sky.
"A ballad," he murmured dreamily, hugging his knees as he stared into space. "I want to write a ballad about love."
"Then I'll rap about that love," Ushijima replied, busily spreading a thin blanket on the floor for both of them to sit on so they wouldn't get cold.
"You’ll ruin it. My song is soft and slow. Why would you rap?"
"Then I'll whisper while rapping."
"...Ushiwaka, I'm begging you, please don't whisper-rap anymore. It sounds like you're chanting prayers for the dead."
Ushijima really wanted to burst out laughing, but seeing the dark circles under the eyes of that beautiful face, he very consciously kept his mouth shut.
The recording studio was bathed in warm yellow light. The small desk lamp cast light on half of Oikawa's cheek, while the other half was hidden in shadows and messy hair. He sat curled up in the chair, laptop on his lap, ears wearing headphones, eyes intently reading each line of lyrics. One hand unconsciously pushed his glasses up his nose, the other typing keys to the melody his mind had just managed to form. Across from him, Ushijima Wakatoshi sat quietly on the sofa, hands clasped together, his gaze never leaving Oikawa for even a second. He said nothing, just silently watched him, as if the entire world had been reduced to the image of Oikawa immersed in his own creative world. He was the only light in that room, the only music worth listening to.
After a long while, Oikawa pulled off his headphones, rubbed his eyes, and sighed. "I can’t write it. I keep imagining a beautiful story, but I don’t know where to begin."
"Then write about something truly ordinary."
Oikawa turned to look at Ushijima, his eyelashes trembling slightly.
"I want to have an ordinary life with you." Ushijima smiled gently and took his hand, as if what he was holding was the most precious thing in the world. "I've thought about this a lot, about what it would be like if we were together after retiring. A life without cameras, no scandals, no flashlights, just you. I think it might take some time for us to get used to it, but would you want to try a life like that with me?"
Oikawa was stunned, his eyes wide as he looked at Ushijima. His words were like a stone dropping into the still lake of his heart, creating endless ripples. An ordinary life — something Oikawa rarely dared to think about amidst the spotlight, performances, and media pressure. But when Ushijima said it, the idea suddenly became clear and strangely beautiful.
Oikawa suddenly realized he longed for a beautiful morning waking up with Ushijima beside his pillow to give him a morning kiss, a pair of fuzzy slippers placed beside the bed to keep his feet warm, and the sound of a radio playing some old news by the windowsill. Maybe Oikawa would stretch lazily on the bed like a cat, pretend to sit up then lazily burrow back under the covers so Ushijima would have to reluctantly run over and carry him to the bathroom. Maybe they would make breakfast together while fighting over choosing the music playlist, only to burn the eggs black on one side, and of course Ushijima would have to eat that part. They’d hang the bedding out on the balcony and steal kisses in the sun, with Oikawa laughing as Ushijima gently brushed his hair aside and hummed a little tune beneath his breath.
That was what love sounded like.
"I'll write this song," Oikawa whispered, his eyes still not leaving Ushijima. "A song about ordinary things like that."
An ordinary life I want to live with you.
The spring afternoon was still chilly. Ushijima rested his chin on his hand, watching Oikawa's slender figure hunched over in the chair, his soft voice drifting past his ears like a breeze scratching at his heart with a tingling sensation. Every time Oikawa thought about something, his forehead would wrinkle and his lips would pout slightly, just like when he wanted a kiss. Ushijima found himself completely enchanted. He loved the way Oikawa would hum a snippet and turn to ask if it sounded okay, and the way his eyes sparkled when Ushijima nodded. He didn’t say much, he didn’t have to. Just being near Oikawa filled him with something warm and bright, something he once couldn’t understand but now couldn’t live without.
And in that fleeting moment, when Oikawa turned back to look at him with clear eyes reflecting only his silhouette, Ushijima realized: if he could only sing one song in his entire life, he wanted it to be about this. About an ordinary day like this. With Oikawa in it.
"Should I try rapping here?" Ushijima asked, lightly tapping the page in his hand and looking up with quiet hope.
Oikawa didn’t answer with words. He simply smiled and reached over to adjust the volume, restarting the demo from the beginning.
Ushijima started the first rap line with his deep voice, right foot gently tapping against the floor in a relaxed rhythm. Oikawa tilted his head, listening silently. By the third line, he softly joined in with a light harmony, his voice as thin and gentle as morning mist. It slipped into the rap like a quiet reply, never overwhelming it, just wrapping each word in a tender warmth like sunlight filtering through gauze. Ushijima had never heard anything sound more soothing. His heart, caught in his chest, felt like it was pirouetting, dancing quietly in a joy too subtle to name.
When his rap ended, Oikawa turned to him with a sparkle in his eyes. "That was perfect, Ushiwaka. That’s the best part of the whole song."
Ushijima looked into Oikawa's coffee-colored eyes, seeing the innocent anticipation standing still within them. Unable to resist, Ushijima pulled Oikawa closer and hugged him tightly. He gently intertwined his fingers with Oikawa's, feeling how perfectly they fit together as if they were made for each other.
They finished the song on a March afternoon, golden sunlight streaming through the window and casting soft highlights on Oikawa’s hair, painting his lips a faint pink as they hummed the last notes together. Ushijima finally set his pencil down, glancing sideways at Oikawa who was still tapping rhythms against his palm, as if the melody hadn’t quite let him go yet.
"We did it," Oikawa said suddenly, breaking into a bright, happy smile. His eyes crinkled into half-moons, and the small dimple under his lip appeared just enough to make Ushijima dazed for a second. How could every tiny feature of Oikawa be so effortlessly lovable?
"Let’s send it now. Then I’ll turn off all my notifications and sleep for ten hours straight. If the manager calls to complain, I won’t hear it anyway." Oikawa stuck out his tongue and playfully pretended to run away.
Ushijima chuckled softly, reaching out to catch Oikawa's wrist and pull him into his arms. "Wait."
"Hm?" Oikawa tilted his head, his eyes curious.
"Can you let me hear it one more time?" Ushijima said quietly, "Before we send it."
Oikawa pulled the laptop closer, selected the instrumental file, then leaned back in his chair, eyes gently closing as if listening to the entire world condensed into one melody.
The music began, and Oikawa started to sing. No microphone. No spotlight. Just a boy in a quiet studio, singing the song he had written, for the one he loved.
Midway through, Ushijima joined in gently. His rap was slow and sincere, every word drawn carefully from the deepest part of his heart. The final line fell like a whisper, softer than ever before.
"Turn out you’re all my happiness."
As those words faded, Ushijima didn’t glance at the lyrics or the screen. He looked only at Oikawa. His gaze was steady and deep, filled with a love that needed no performance, no spectacle. It was simple and absolute, as if Oikawa were the answer to every question he’d never known how to ask.
Oikawa fell silent.
There are emotions that don't need to be expressed in words, because they're powerful enough to create waves in one's chest. And his heart, right then, resonated like a perfect harmony.
Oh.
So this is how much he loves me.
The instrumental gradually faded, leaving the room in sweet silence, only the gentle sound of their breathing. Oikawa still sat there, hands on the laptop, but his eyes never left Ushijima.
"Ushiwaka," he said softly, his voice gentle as a whisper, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For helping me realize how beautiful our love is."
He hadn't pressed send on the demo yet, and perhaps right now, that no longer mattered. The song "Simple" still lay there, on the laptop screen, waiting to be shared with the world. But right now, it belonged only to them.
A harmony of simple love, full of courage, and needing no one else to witness it.