Chapter Text
Bokuto Koutarou met Oikawa Tooru during their first year of high school.
Hopping from foot to foot, new sneakers squeaking against the gym floor, the owl-haired first year scanned the room, itching to judge some books by their covers.
A tall boy stood to his left (not as tall as Bokuto, obviously, but tall enough) with shaggy brown hair and an intimidating air around him. Dangerous, Bokuto assumed. Next to him stood a much taller, stoic, white-haired man. Then a smirking boy with bad black bed-head. A boy with a kind smile and gray hair. A bald-headed shorty with a grin full of excitement. A scowling, short black haired man. And then of course…
Bokuto faltered when his eyes landed on Oikawa. Maybe it was the way his eyes glinted with something all too knowing. Maybe it was the soft brown locks of hair falling perfectly to frame his face. Maybe it was his well-built body, his chiseled jaw, the way he looked way too pretty to be their age, must less an unknown high school student. Yes, Bokuto faltered but he was quick to regain awareness of where he was, and how staring slack-jawed at another teammate wasn’t exactly socially acceptable.
They were introduced to their seniors, introduced to the volleyball club as a whole, and introduced to their teammates.
Oikawa Tooru, Bokuto thought, A beautiful name for a beautiful person!
And hell, Oikawa could serve a ball. Bokuto may have held amazing power in his spikes, but Oikawa had precision behind his serves. Despite not having had worked with each other for even a day, they functioned together like a well-oiled machine. And, after a few weeks of working as a pair, during practice and after, Bokuto felt like Oikawa was still improving. What Oikawa had was more than raw talent; It was dedication. When every session drew to a close (even those interrupted by a scolding Iwaizumi Hajime), he walked home with a silly grin, the image of Oikawa’s face still fresh in his mind.
It wasn’t until a few months later that he found Oikawa hunched over in the locker room, a shaking figure of a thing. His head was buried into his towel as if it would do anything to disguise the muffled sobs ripping themselves from the huddled boy. Bokuto approached slowly, not exactly knowing what to do. How to comfort people. Things like these never came easily to him, which was a large part of the reason what friends he had didn't confine in him. He couldn’t empathize the way they wanted him to, and any attempt at console was futile. Nevertheless, he sat down next to Oikawa and wrapped an arm around his shaking shoulders, pulling him close.
Oikawa paused.
Bokuto paused as well. Was this really the appropriate reaction? What if Oikawa just wanted to be left alone or maybe he should say something or maybe he should get Iwaizumi to comfort him instead, they knew each other better after all, or maybe-
But Oikawa relaxed into him, letting the towel drop and revealing a mess of snot and tears.
“Hey, hey, Oikawa. How’s it going, my guy?” Bokuto said with a start, all too loud and all too casual, but Oikawa smiled anyway.
“Not so good, Bokuto."
A pause.
"Have you… Have you ever wished that a certain night never happened, like you wish it was a dream or a hallucination or something? Maybe because you don’t want it to be true or maybe because it feels so much like one that you can’t help but second guess reality.”
Bokuto grinned weakly, “Can’t say I have. Sounds like it sucks, though, man. Do you want to maybe talk about it or-”
“I’d love to talk about it, thank you.” Oikawa cut him off, sliding closer to the floor, “Bokuto, tell me this. What are you supposed to do when your best friend tells you he loves you?”
“I guess it'd depend on whether or not I love him back, you know?
Oikawa sighed exasperatedly, and Bokuto couldn't tell if it’s because of him or the situation itself. “Okay, but what if you’ve never even considered the possibility that he was gay or… if you could be gay? What if it’s all crashing down on you and you wonder if what you’re feeling is disgust or pity or guilt or requital? What if you ran out of the house after he told you and haven’t said a word to him all day, marinating in this shit show of a revelation and what if you know that it’s not fair to him but you can’t muster up the motivation to just talk to the guy. I mean for god's sake you’ve never had to motivate yourself to talk to him ever, in all 14 years you’ve been friends with him it’s always been easy but now, after that one night, after those three words nothing will ever be back to normal.”
Oikawa gasped into another cry, hands clutching desperately for his towel but Bokuto grabbed it from him before he could cover his face with it. Bokuto turned his body parallel and pulled Oikawa into a tight hug, the same kind of hug that can knock the breath out of someone but warm them up from skin to core.
“I’ve never been in your situation, never even come close, really, but I’m sure it’s not the end of the world. You’ll talk to each other, right? You’ll work this out and by the end of it, you’ll both be happy. I can believe that more than I can believe anything. You’re an incredible person, Oikawa. Amazing. Fantastic. Beautiful. And if anyone can get past this, it’s you.”
Oikawa let out a shuddering breath and sunk into Bokuto’s body, allowing himself be enveloped by the mass of the man.
“If you don’t mind,” Oikawa spoke slowly, each exhale of air bringing itself together into a gradual thought, “Can I try something?”
Bokuto’s heart skipped a beat, “Anything to make you feel better, yeah.”
“Can I kiss you?”
Oikawa didn’t hesitate to speak this time, whipping his head up so his eyes could meet Bokuto’s, “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but I want to try it out. And if I have to kiss any man, I’d certainly not protest kissing one that looks like you.”
Bokuto laughed, “I’m great, aren’t I? Let’s kiss! Let’s do it! Let’s-”
Oikawa reached two palms to grab at the nape of Bokuto’s neck and pull him down roughly, smashing both sets of lips together, noses bumping painfully. It hurt, but it also sent an electric shock through Bokuto’s chest that he couldn’t recover from. He hurried to grasp onto Oikawa’s shirt.
Despite his initial fever, Oikawa slowed down, turning his head to the left to give himself a better angle, sliding their lips together with something a little bit more intimate. Bokuto practically bloomed in happiness, letting his hands reach up to play with Oikawa’s curls. Oikawa sighed in contentment, fingertips brushing Bokuto’s neck once more before traveling down to his chest, mapping out each curve of his muscles. They stayed like that for a while, neither daring to go any farther but enjoying what they had. Bokuto can’t say for sure how long it was before they parted. Long enough for Oikawa’s tears to dry. Long enough for the sun to give its position over to the moon. Long enough for his mother to leave three voicemails to his phone. But finally, they separated, both breathing heavily and staring at the other’s mouths in wonder. Yeah, that was just on my lips. I was just kissing. That doesn’t happen every day.
Oikawa giggled and stood up from Bokuto’s lap (how long had he been sitting there?).
“Thank you for helping me figure some things out for myself, Kou-chan! I have to be going now, it’s awfully late, but I look forward to seeing you in practice tomorrow!” With a wink and a careless wave behind him, Oikawa was off.
Bokuto realized, watching Oikawa’s receding back skip out of the locker room, that he was a little bit in love with the brown-eyed boy. And, luckily for him, that night wasn’t where it ended.
Oikawa didn’t follow a specific pattern. It was whenever he was in a certain mood, it seemed. But when he was in the mood, he made it well known, dragging Bokuto into the locker rooms and kissing him senseless. Every single session, the two of them would get a little more adventurous. Tongues. Ears. Hickeys. Thighs. Borderline explicit and goddamn dirty. Only calling it a day whenever Oikawa wanted to call it a day. Bokuto was, frankly, scared to end it on his own, mind reeling at the possibility that one day, a typical practice could become their last. When would Oikawa get bored and move on?
Bokuto overheard him once, after all, talking to a friend of his, another teammate.
Iwaizumi Hajime had Oikawa in a headlock, the latter of which spluttering out random yelps of “Iwa-chan!” and “So mean!”
When he deemed his punishment for whatever adequite, he stopped, pushing Oikawa away from him and shouting, “How long are you planning on leading the poor bastard on?”
Oikawa paused, frowned slightly, and responded in a playful tone: “Just because you’re salty about your confession, Iwa-chan, doesn’t mean you get to dictate who I play around with!”
Iwaizumi threw a punch at the other’s head, who dodged narrowly. “Who said anything about my confession, you asshole? Bokuto’s a good kid, but you know how his emotions affect him, on and off the court. If your little ‘game’ ends up hurting the team…”
Oikawa chuckled, skipping towards the door of their court, singing behind him a simple, “Don’t worry so much, Iwa-chan. You’ll get wrinkles!” And exiting, narrowly missing Bokuto as he shuffled out of sight.
Sure enough, a few weeks later, Oikawa approached him with a sad smile on his face.
“Kou-chan, you know how much fun our little practices have been, but I’m gonna have to call them off for now. You see, I’ve got my eyes set on someone very special! Not that you aren’t ridiculously handsome and a wonderful partner, but I can’t be kissing someone when I’m pining after another! Sorry, Kou-chan, I hope you can forgive me!”
Bokuto forgave him, of course, almost instantly.
But that didn’t keep it from hurting.
After a few days of moping around his home, he figured that maybe he won’t get over Oikawa. And maybe that would just have to do, for now.
☀
It's been three whole years of me thinking about you every day
Sometimes for hours, sometimes in passing
Saw you from the bottom of the staircase
Stood out for hours as you complained
About how you haven't seen your friends yet
That you're too drunk to stand and
You not knowing if you can love him forever