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Much like the clear surface of the bell sitting before you on the professor's desk, your understanding of how uncomfortable you were in a room filled with loud sounds was obvious (and of course, unsettling). Sitting behind you were various, talkative individuals. You would be lying if you said you didn't regret sitting at the front of the room. You needed to do something - anything - to escape the loud, white noise.
Had you been toward the back of the room in your own, private corner, you would have gladly yanked out your sketchbook and distracted yourself from the discomfort that filled your ears. Much like oil atop water, you knew the people surrounding your whole being were people you could never get used to so easily. Truthfully, you didn't dislike the people themselves; you disliked the feeling of needing to readjust to a new setting filled with new faces and some you, admittedly speaking, actually recognized.
To cut the inner monologue down a bit, you were uncomfortable with the thought of needing to get used to people all over again whether you knew them or not. You were certainly no fool if you put your mind to work; the easiest way to get used to these unique faces would be to simply speak with them. When you put it into words, it didn't seem all that difficult.
Except that it was that difficult.
For some strange, unexplainable reason, you found yourself able to appear natural to the people surrounding you. Well, "natural" actually meant "bored and tired of going to class already." They did not know that you were always arguing with your thoughts, determined to not make too much of a fool of yourself. Were you paranoid? By all technicalities of the word's definition, no, you weren't. In your mind, however, the word was the closest description to how you personally felt. Forget what the textbook says about what words "technically" meant! You were afraid the world was judging you for even the thought of letting your inner self slip out. At your train of thought, you very much wanted to sigh in defeat.
You weren't quite sure if this was considered shyness or simply a cowardly variation of introversion.You just wanted to go home.
Still, even that made you a bit afraid because, truthfully, you didn't want to leave, knowing you would go unnoticed by the world. Even if it was a world filled with black and white images where you would never fit in.
Drawing would be a good way to relax right then and there if you weren't scared of someone wanting to judge your artwork.
* * *
By the next week, you had (re)gained control of your nerves. Honestly, you were still quite uncomfortable around the many people. Yes, you chose to sit in the same place as before. Despite your ridiculous discomfort, you had decided that placing yourself in the front of the room was a simpler attempt to getting used to your surroundings. The girl sitting to your left hadn't spoken a word to you and the young man on your right appeared to be the type who kept to himself. If they had chosen to speak with you, you were quite positive you would be able to respond and you'd even welcome the conversation.
Ahh...
You really weren't sure whether you liked or disliked this silence compared to the loud noise from behind you (and all around the room itself, of course).
While the loudness was a bit overwhelming, without sound, you almost felt like all eyes were on you ... and that caused the skin on your spine to shiver in (probably needless) worry.
You very much wanted to draw something. Your hands were practically itching for it.
You wanted to be able to express yourself in any other form other than actually speaking.
* * *
Some days passed with the same, repeating pattern of you fading away in class-based setting and though your energy became drained upon entering, you knew the class meant for discussion was unavoidable for the sake of your desired art-related major.
Stretching your exhausted limbs, you made your way to the dread-causing lecture hall in the world filled with judging eyes in every direction. Well, there weren't actually eyes all around (at least not at the moment); you generally arrived in class quite early and it was always fairly empty at that point in time.
Regardless, you let out a sigh at the sight of people entering the room. It was quite tiring to do this every day. It was probably the most tiring event in your life ... until you heard the first thing to escape your professor's lips after class was in session.
"I'm going to divide you up into groups."
As you dragged your feet to your new "happy place," you wondered how or why your professor was doing this to you. You couldn't quite understand your own thoughts as he had decided on separating the people into groups. You remembered him entering the room with a hat in hand and pieces of paper inside it. He had everyone draw from this aforementioned hat with numbers written across the papers. The class had to find others with the same number and group up with them.
In the end, you couldn't bring yourself to care too much; you may as well have been a simple number anyway.
You were a lonesome, exhausted number "four."
A lonesome, exhausted number "four" that ... wasn't as lonesome as before. That may or may not have been a good thing after you met the people in your group.
"We should do introductions! So, my name is Tooru Oikawa! I haven't really decided on my major yet but I'm on the guy's volleyball team! Come by and watch us some time!"
Ah.
This guy before you was a fairly attractive brunette. His hair curled at the tips and he seemed to only make the group brighten up with his personality.
He was just so loud though.
Despite his overused voice box, his hair bounced with each of his movements and he never seemed to wipe the smile off his face. The other girls in your group (there were five of you in total with three girls including yourself) seemed to be completely drawn to everything he did as though he were a breathtaking painting.
He... He was just so loud though... and now he was looking right at you.
Oh no, oh no, no, no, n-!!
"And what's your name? What major are you studying for?" he asked, the chipper tone of voice matching his silly, stupidly attractive face. You very much wanted to look away when he locked eyes with you.
Swallowing all built-up saliva in your throat, you threw together a sentence based off of a simple template you'd inwardly prepared at the last minute. All you could do was give your name and desired art-based major before (almost) immediately pretending to be busy with the group's assignment.
As your group continued working together ("together," you had to note, seeing how the newly-introduced Tooru was doing all the talking), you found yourself eyeballing the clock on the wall.
Tick, tock, tick, tock. It was the only sound filling your ears as you subconsciously found yourself drowning out the talkative brunette's voice.
Ah...
You just wanted to draw and your fingers almost felt like they were moving on their own at the thought.
If only you could shake that feeling that you were being watched by the world.
* * *
Surprisingly enough (and fortunately), you had managed to silently push your way through the group "discussion" that day.
Unfortunately (which wasn't surprising at all), the next time you arrived in class, you had to go back to your group.
Again.
When you arrived at your group's placement of choice in the lecture hall, you silently groaned at the thought of being around people you still hadn't been able to get used to yet.
You felt a bit bad when Tooru walked over and greeted you despite your previous discomforts. Even with his loud voice, he wasn't all that bad from what you'd seen.
Ahhh...
Still, this was quite tiring.
"There's a game on Saturday. You guys should come by and check us out!" were the first words out of Tooru's mouth when your group got settled in. Everyone was working on the assigned topic you'd been given and Tooru chose to bring this up while you were all reading instructions (silently, thankfully). One of the girls asked what time it was and all you really made out was that it took place at two o'clock in the afternoon.
It was a home game on campus and it was against a neighboring college you couldn't place the name of in the slightest (it would've helped if you'd been listening more). You found yourself staring at Tooru as he continued soundlessly moving his mouth.
Well, he would actually have sound if you weren't so lost in thou-
Uh-
Tooru was looking in your direction. He opened his mouth and his lips were moving.
Then they stopped.
"Ah- Uh, what was that?" you managed to squeeze out, your heart hammering in your chest (it was silly for you to get anxious when spoken to like this).
And he smiled at you (as though he had the patience of a saint).
"Are you going to see my game on Saturday? I'd love for you to come!" He was beaming and it made you feel almost overwhelmed as you simply gazed at him.
Truthfully, he probably didn't care. Outside of class, he didn't know you and you didn't know him. You were two lines, two numbers that never connected outside of this group setting.
Despite that, you couldn't crush his hopes even if they were a false front.
All you could say was how you would have to see if you were busy on that day.
The assignment continued and Tooru started reading aloud. "This next one is abooout ... mural art and how art can affect the community." He lowered the paper and looked at you, saying your name in the process (which was somehow embarrassing in a weird way). "What do you think about it?"
You looked a bit taken aback when he turned to you first. You knew for sure all eyes in the group were on you now. "...What I think?"
He chuckled at your (probably needless) question. "Yeah! You're an artist, right? I think you'd be the best person to answer this one."
His chipper tone (though loud) was a bit contagious and you found yourself nodding with a small smile blooming on your face as words spilled from your lips.
Even if he was being insincere and he was just acting as he always did, you were still happy. Someone actually paid attention to what you had to say.
It was a strange feeling.
Whether it was a paintbrush on a canvas or pencil on paper, your fingers almost felt like they were twitching in anticipation. You really wanted to draw something to show how you were feeling then and there.
* * *
As the week rolled by, Saturday arrived and you found your eyes lingering a moment too long on the clock in your room, which read as one o'clock.
Even though you originally had no actual plans to watch it, something kept eating at you to see Tooru's volleyball game.
You weren't entirely sure on if it was just the urge to change your regular, day-to-day pattern or if it was just because you felt like you'd let Tooru down for not showing up (you were actually fairly positive he really wouldn't care if you were there or not).
After a losing fight against your gut, you changed your clothes, grabbed your bag immediately after, and stepped outside.
Apparently, you were now going to fit a volleyball game into your (empty) schedule.
Before you knew it, you arrived on campus and stood before the gymnasium where this aforementioned game would take place (you used the Internet to pull up a map of the campus since you didn't want to approach another and ask for assistance). Your hand clutched onto the strap of your bag and you made an inward promise with yourself:
This would be an experience that would help you get used to people you didn't know.
Well, scratch that. The chances were high that you wouldn't greet a single soul or speak with anyone you didn't need to. Still, you decided this would be an experience you would rather try than not try. It was a college game, so it wasn't as though it'd be bad if you went by yourself.
Yes, that's what you decided as you flattened out the long, floral-patterned skirt you chose to wear before approaching the ticket counter inside the building.
Though you had been nervous upon entry, there weren't as many people in the audience to watch the game as you thought there would be. You didn't even see the girls who asked about Tooru's game in class.
It was a bit disappointing when they seemed so interested in the thought of cheering him on before. Almost out of a force of habit, you sat at the bottom of the bleachers (...but not so far that the railing would block your line of vision).
Suddenly, all thoughts were erased when you noticed people entering and making their way to across the gym floor. Immediately, you recognized Tooru standing among the group and he appeared to be giving a speech of some kind to his teammates.
Ah, you couldn't help but think as you paid attention to how he was surrounded by his peers. He seemed like he was shining as he spoke and deep down, you knew you could never be like him when it came to letting others gravitate around you.
You'd be lying if you said you didn't just feel a pang of disappointment at the fact.
You couldn't change yourself so drastically no matter how much you wanted to do so.
* * *
At the sound of a whistle echoing across the room, the players took their positions and you could only silently watch. When speaking honestly, you didn't know the first thing about volleyball (other than basic rules) or practically any sport for that matter. When you tried to think about it in detail, you'd really just chosen to watch the game in order to find a change of pace, to try and find a way to help yourself open up to new things and new faces.
Even though it was probably a fool's dream, you still managed to find yourself drawn into the game, watching as each of the players on both your college's team and the opposing team alike put forth their best efforts. About an hour into the game, they had all looked exhausted and sweat covered their frames. You weren't even paying the slightest bit of attention to the score.
Even so, the image of them trying their hardest to achieve victory was implanted in your brain and you had to remind yourself to not hold your breath in anticipation. Though you were originally not focusing on a single player, your eyes were drawn to Tooru's figure.
Not once checking to see if anyone was watching you, you'd immediately dug your hands into your bag and retrieved your sketchbook and something, anything to sketch some sort of line.
Turning to the first empty page you could come across, you drew and drew and drew. You were in your own, little world at that moment. The only sounds filling your ears were the sounds of shoes screeching across the floor and a ball being hit at full-force.
That's when the sound of a whistle being blown repeatedly echoed and you jerked your head up, realization pouring into your mind. The game had come to an end and you immediately understood that people were cheering and the sense of pride on Tooru's face told you his team had won.
Unfortunately, that's when people began clearing out. You slammed your sketchbook shut and threw it in your bag. Before you were surrounded by a crowd leaving the gymnasium, you made your way outside.
Once you got back home, you'd tossed your bag onto your bed after retrieving your sketchbook.
Turning the pages, you came across a page that made you turn red and almost drop the whole book in shock.
You'd drawn Tooru as he tossed a ball into the air and leapt to serve it. Irises were blooming under his feet as he was jumping and if anything made you feel like a fool, this certainly did.
It was silly but ... as you thought back to the meaning of the flower, you'd remembered what it meant: inspiration.
Even though it was ridiculously corny, you smiled. It was strangely fitting for someone as extroverted and open as Tooru.
* * *
"NO CLASS FOR TODAY. I don't care where you go but you can't stay here." were the words written on a piece of paper … which was hanging to the class' door.
You blinked repeatedly as though it had been something you couldn't process. You then looked around but couldn't find anyone you recognized before turning your attention back to the door. That was when an arm stretched past you, peeling the paper off the door. You felt your body stiffen at the sudden intrusion of your personal space.
"Ohhh? I guess I need to head straight to practice then," the voice connected to the arm stated, pulling you out of your thoughts. You tilted your head to offer a glance to the owner of the familiar voice, part of you already knowing who would be waiting when you turned around.
And you were right.
Truthfully, Tooru was standing a bit too close in your bubble of personal space. Still, you found yourself not minding as much when he offered a grin your way.
"Hey, hey, I saw you at our game on Saturday! Did you come to cheer us on?" Even though he was speaking, he was going a mile a minute and you couldn't even try to get a word in, edge-wise.
You settled on awkwardly nodding.
The grin plastered on his face only grew at your response.
You were a bit surprised when he started ruffling your hair. Your height didn't seem to matter because he was treating you like a pet regardless.
"I... I'm not a dog...!"
His hand froze, you froze, and the world itself froze at your slight outburst. Your thoughts couldn't reform properly in your slightly panicked state.
Even so, an immediate smirk formed on his face as he lowered his hand. He stepped past your quiet frame and stuck the paper back to the door, not once looking back at you.
"Oh, I know that," he stated quietly, speaking in a tone you hadn't heard him use before. It was almost as though he wanted only you to hear it. Somehow or another, the possibility (along with his sudden, strange way of talking) made you almost freeze up again. That was when a moment of silence found itself then between the two of you (and you could feel your body wanting to take a step back).
You nearly opened your mouth to give a voice to any sentence you could squeeze out ... but the words couldn’t escape and you knew that without even trying to speak.
Should you just walk away? Should you lie and say you had another class to head towards?
Well, that wouldn't work anyway. This class would've just started, it was your last class of the day, and you weren't a very good liar.
"Oh, I have an idea!" Tooru's tone of voice became chipper and loud once more as he bounced in place, the ends of his hair jumping with him.
That was when he looked straight at you.
"Um... Yes, what is it?" you questioned, not feeling comfortable from being stared at by even a small amount.
"You could come to watch me practice with my team!"
"I can w... Wait, what?"
You couldn't do much to fight back and that's why you ended up here:
Surrounded by Tooru's teammates in the gym with him standing in front of you (if he was trying to be a shield, he wasn't doing a very good job).
"Oikawa, what's she doing here?"
"Are people even allowed to come watch us practice? Won't the coach get mad?"
Tooru raised his hands in defense. "Guys, it's okay! She's an artist and," he said. Wait, what was he- "As an artist, she needed, uh, what was the word? Referees! Wait, no, that's not it."
"Um... References?" One of the teammates piped in and stated.
"Yeah, references! Anyway, she asked me for help and I couldn't turn down such a sweet lady who needed help!"
......Wait, you didn't ask! You were forced down here! Still, you tried not to let your shock show on your face.
"When Oikawa says stuff like that, I really want to wring his neck." One of his teammates said this, looking directly at Tooru with a tired look on his face.
"Yeah," one of the others responded, nodding his head, wearing the same expression as he stared at Tooru as well.
"You guys! That's mean! Don't you know that you're all the paper snowflakes and I'm the special glue that holds us together?!"
...
"Oikawa, that makes absolutely no sense."
Despite your previous complaints, no one seemed to really mind that you were there. In fact, it's almost like they welcomed the presence of a girl (or at least that's what Tooru said).
Still, this new world you were shown was strange in the least. There was a lot of yelling and there were drills where the guys ran under the net, which stood in the middle of the court. It was where they practiced (what you assumed were) returns and diving for the ball.
You knew right away that you'd never be able to do what they were doing.
Instead, you opted for grabbing your sketchbook. If you were supposed to be gathering "references," what harm would come from actually drawing? (Plus, [and this is the only real reason you decided on doing this] everyone was too busy to pay too much attention to you.)
Just the thought of running for the ball made you imagine yourself falling right on your face. You wanted to frown at the thought.
A laugh was heard near you and it tore you from your thought pattern.
With a timid glance upward, you noticed Tooru was staring at you. He'd apparently been waiting his turn to practice drills.
"You were making a funny face just now, you know?"
You were making a what?
With that, he waved you off, laughing even more.
"Don't fall in love with me when you watch me serve!"
You couldn't help but sputter like a fool at his comment.
Still, you'd been impressed by how he looked when he served the ball over the net and did his part in practice...
...until he ruined it by looking toward you, flexing both of his arms, and kissing one of his biceps as though it were a precious treasure. He laughed and later approached you, telling you “the look of disappointment on your face from before was utterly priceless."
As you waited for him to change and walk you outside (as, "It's getting dark and I can't let you wander by yourself!" were his words to you), you found yourself dozing off. Soon, sleep took over and you woke up to Tooru holding a cold bottle of water to your forehead.
He laughed when you flinched from being startled by the sudden cold temperature against your skin.
* * *
When the next day of class arrived (after your professor finally showed up again), you sat in your usual spot at the front of the room. For one reason or another, the silent, repetitive feeling wasn't there as much as before.
You didn't really want to admit it ... but you were actually looking forward to class. With a faint gulp, you eyeballed the entrance to the room. Part of you was telling your brain this was a bad idea and the other part of you was telling the feeling in your gut that this was what you wanted.
You actually wanted to see Tooru.
Much to your surprise and flip-flopping stomach, once the bouncy brunette waltzed into the room, the first thing he did was send a wave and goofy grin in your direction from the doorway.
You were confused (was he actually greeting you first?) and, because you weren't thinking properly, pointed to yourself for confirmation as he did his greeting.
For the strangest reason, he began laughing. When he finally stopped, he reached both of his hands toward his face and spread his cheeks in ridiculous directions. He then he pointed at you as he continued his laughter.
...
......Wait. He wasn't saying you made that idiotic expression, was he?!
With a look of utter shock (and you knew you weren't hiding it this time), you gaped at him.
He promptly laughed even more as he made his way to his (you were simply guessing) personal seat in the back of the room.
You couldn't help but raise your hand to your face as a way of trying to quell your embarrassment. He definitely wasn't thinking anything of how he was acting, was he?
The butterflies in your tummy were not helping either. Unfortunately, you just couldn't digest the feeling like you could food.
A sigh escaped you and as your professor carried on with his lecture, you felt a bit of relief overcome you.
If Tooru was around you for too long, you may not have been able to handle it.
"Waaaiiitttttt!!"
And speak of the (eventual) devil.
You'd been walking away from the lecture hall when a voice called out. Recognizing the loud volume and tone, you wanted to stop. You wanted to turn around and greet the owner of the voice because you wanted to believe it was directed toward you.
Still, you didn't want to get your hopes up too fast; wouldn't you look weird for turning around (knowing your luck, this might happen), only to find that you had somehow gotten the wrong person? Another possibility is that if it was Tooru calling out, he may have been calling for another person.
You could feel your cheeks heating up at the idea. The last thing you needed was even more embarrassment.
Despite your train of thought, you did, in fact, hear your name being called. With an involuntary clench of your hands across your bag's strap, you gave yourself over to temptation and whirled around.
Ah. Tooru was waving like a fool in your direction; he didn't seem to care that he was being stared at in the slightest.
Ah. The thumping sounds of your chest were echoing in your ears.
And it was a bit frightening.
"Do you want to come watch our practice again?"
Even though your head was telling you to go home, that socializing wasn't in your "life skill" specialties, you knew immediately that you wanted to try and step into his world for just a moment longer.
This nervous, happy feeling was making you into a bigger fool than you already were.
He led the way after you gave your consent and you couldn't quite understand why you were happy around someone you barely knew anything about.
As you found your place in the same spot as before, you soon learned that the coach didn't seem to mind you being there so long as you didn't interrupt practice (and so long as you were actually gathering these so-called "references").
Practice carried on with few interruptions and once it was over, Tooru jogged over to you.
"I'm gonna get changed, okay? I'll be right back, so don't leave!" Tooru said, pointing toward you and walking out of the gym.
You nodded but smiled nonetheless.
Some were apparently not done practicing because they kept running their basic drills. As they continued on with practice, a couple of players found themselves standing beside you.
"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to ask: How'd you and Oikawa meet anyway? He doesn't usually talk to quiet girls because they're too nervous and weird around him." You looked up from your (now closed) sketchbook at the sudden conversation being made with you.
"We're in the same discussion class," you said almost quietly, fiddling with the book's cover before you. "It ends right when your practice starts, I think."
He paused, then nodded.
"Oh, okay."
You were wondering why he asked if he wasn't going to say much until a voice called out your name. You looked over and found Tooru leaning against the nearest doorway.
Tossing all your belongings into your bag, you almost scurried over to him.
Though you weren't sure what you were expecting, you couldn't hide your shock whenever your hand was grabbed as you stepped outside. While he didn't make a move to pull you closer to his own body, Tooru simply stared at you as he held onto your slightly shaking fingers.
With a faint grin, he used his thumb to brush gently across your knuckles.
You weren't used to such ... intimate (was that even a good way to describe it??) contact and nearly froze up on the spot (and you seemed to be doing that quite a bit around him).
Then his vision tilted upward and he looked you in the eye. His expression was a bit unreadable as his previously brown eyes took on an amber hue due to the setting sun. He began moving his lips and you soon realized you weren't listening again.
"...know." It was all you were able to catch him say as he held onto your hand.
"Sorry, Tooru... I, um... What did you say again?" you question calmly (or so you'd like to think) as he continued wearing the expression you couldn't get used to in the slightest.
Despite his expression not changing much, he wore a smile. "I said, 'Your fingers are pretty, you know.' Is it because you have the hands of someone who works with art all the time?" he asked, his question seeming to be more rhetorical than anything else. "I look at my own hands constantly, almost out of habit, and they're often covered in either bandages or calluses from hitting the volleyball too hard. I try to take care of them but they never look as nice as yours do."
You weren't sure what to say.
"...I put lotion on my hands every day. I ... get calluses too from whenever I draw. Sometimes, I, uh, hold a pencil too hard to keep my hand steady," you said, deciding a simple response was best.
He nodded, his gaze remaining on your hands.
"Your art is just as lovely as your hands though," he said, removing his thumb and lacing his fingers against your own one-by-one.
"W-Wait, my art-" He shook his head, cutting you off.
"When you waited for me to change after practice the other day, I, uh, saw your sketchbook sticking out of your bag and took a look!" A sheepish grin took over his features as the feeling in your gut only got worse. "There was a, um, picture of me, wasn't there?"
You immediately pushed your eyes downward to the lovely concrete. You hadn't meant for anyone to ever see that picture. Instead of being given a verbal response (or a passing comment about how weird you were), a hand was gently raised, reaching for a loose hair that dangled over your ear. With swift movements, it was tucked away behind the nearby ear.
"This way, I can get a better look at your face," Tooru stated, his smile not looking so difficult to read anymore. "I enjoy looking at you, to be honest." The way he said it didn't come off as creepy or even unusual; he was simply making a statement as he retained your gaze with his own. Even though you wanted to turn away, something about him was drawing you in more and more.
Though you knew you were now a fool, part of you really didn't mind as your face heated up and you forced yourself to not look away from the young man before you. (Was he really not going to say anything about the picture?)
"Thank you," you muttered, smiling at his gentle words.
As though the world around you was just falling away, you kept your focus on Tooru as he leaned closer to you and, though you didn't want to, you somehow found yourself clenching your eyes shut. Perhaps you were nervous of what was to come and this nervousness had only just caught up to you?
Still, you couldn't stop the quickened beats in your chest as a soft, autumn-like feeling was pressed to your cheek. Rather than fall, it felt as though summer began blooming in your mind as a burst of color surrounded you. It all came from the kiss Tooru left on your blushing form. Almost by reflex, you snapped out of your hypnotized state as you slapped a hand against your touched cheek.
Tooru only laughed with joy being emitted from his features.
"...The expressions you make are just so funny."
You were utterly confused and decided to finally ask:
"Am I really making funny faces...?"
His laughter soon subsided and he wiped a tear from his eye from too much giggling.
"Yeah, you do. They remind me of a cute underclassman I used to have in middle school! He made funny faces just like you." You tilted your head slightly. "Of course," he began quietly (and you realized he’d been holding your hand this whole time), pushing your hand up against his chest ... where you could feel fast heartbeats. "He didn't make me feel like this."
You sputtered and jerked your hand away as though it were on fire. Instead of laughing again, all Tooru said was your name, which caused you to turn your head and glance at him.
"...Yes?"
Somehow, you had a gut feeling on what he'd say next. Even so, there was no way you could mentally prepare yourself for what was to come.
"I want you to be my girlfriend."
Your breath hitched and you found the concrete quite interesting once more.
"I, um, uh..." You'd also apparently forgotten how to talk because you were acting like a fish out of water.
"I can only guess you feel the same - I mean, about being my girlfriend, not me being your girlfriend - and, ah, well, you had a lot of pictures of me drawn, so I... Well, I'm just assuming you like me back, you know?!"
The chipper, mood-lifting Tooru was stumbling on his words and you-
Wait.
As quick as you could, you contorted oddly, reached into your bag, and grabbed your book of (apparently creepy) art and began inspecting the pages.
During the two times you'd gone to watch Tooru practice, you had, in fact, drawn Tooru more and more.
You dropped to your knees and sighed, hoping the ground would open up in underneath you.
"...So, is that a 'yes' to dating me...?"
You looked up at the man standing before you, realization finally hitting you in the face.
Instead of accepting his confession, a question was the only thing that spilled from your mouth:
"Wait... You like me? ...Since when?"
With an awkward laugh and a light scratch against his cheek, Tooru looked away.
"Well... By now, it has to have been about ... maybe ... a year?"
You gaped at him as though he were insane. Still, he reached out his hand to your sulking form and smiled nonetheless.
"If you can handle dating the Grand King of the Volleyball Team, I'd be more than happy to take you as my girlfriend."
Apparently you made another funny face because looked like he was doing his best to keep a serious expression (with his lip twitching in a goofy manner).
You spewed out some form of an apology for drawing him constantly and tried mixing in an excuse of how you didn't realize you had done so (especially with so many illustrations).
He caved in and laughed anyway.
"You can draw me all you want, you know? Someone needs to know how cool I am! Just... don't draw other guys, okay?"
This time, you knew you were the one who laughed. You didn't mind drawing just him since he had become a huge source of inspiration to you in the end.
You definitely wanted to draw. Your fingers were itching to engrave this happy feeling into paper.
You were positive the lines would form to the shape of the one standing before you and at that, you couldn't be happier. For once, it didn’t seem so bad if the world was watching the two of you act like young teenagers in the evening sun.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..."
"What's wrong? You've been acting weird since practice ended, y'know."
[ He stretches and a groan is emitted right after. ]
"Well, something's been on my mind since I talked to that girl who sat in on our practice."
"What's that? You mean the one Oikawa brought with him?"
"Yeah, her. Well... I don't think it's anything to worry about but something has been bothering me about what she said to me."
"What do you mean?"
"She said she and Oikawa were in the same class? Apparently right before practice starts."
"...Yeah? So?"
"Uhhh... I might be remembering it wrong but I thought Oikawa didn't have a class before practice?"
END