Chapter Text
“Hey, Hey, Hey!!!” A loud voice echoed from the speakers, followed by a cheery laugh. “Ladies and the few gentlemen, I present you, Oikawa Tooru!” the voice announced cheerfully, followed by the unruly screams of many, many fangirls (and a few fanboys) filling the concert arena.
The bright lights flickered on and off, briefly illuminating the delighted expressions of his fans in vibrant colours before they were completely shut off and a single light fell onto the figure that was slowly walking to the centre of the stage. Oikawa moved comfortably towards the microphone, his hair bouncing lightly with every step. An easy, charming, smile rested on his young face as he waved at the audience, earning himself an ear-shattering scream.
He waited for the noise to die down, hand curling around the microphone. Music started filling the hall and he parted his lips, allowing the notes to drag him into the song, his mouth forming words with practised ease.
His eyes flickered across the impressive number of people in the audience, taking in the enchanted faces of his young, mostly female, fan base.
In that moment, he was in his element.
“Hajime!” He could barely hear his mother’s soft voice ringing through the loud rock music so he slowly turned it down until it was just a pleasant whisper in the background. “Could you come downstairs for a moment please?”
“Sure!” he replied loudly, wiping the sweat forming at his brows with the hem of his white, sleeveless T-shirt. The heat that filtered through the open window made beads of sweat roll down his neck and forehead, the breeze from the fan not helping to alleviate the discomfort of his tacky skin.
He slowly plodded out of his bedroom and took two stairs at a time as he descended the old wooden stairs. They creaked dangerously under his weight but he paid them no mind. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he rounded the corner and walked into the kitchen where his mother was turning off the water in the sink. “What’s up?”
“Hey,” she greeted quietly. “Take a seat please.”
He complied, pulling out a chair and heavily sinking down on it, curiously watching his mother wipe her hands on a tea towel. She was a small, fair-skinned woman with light brown hair pulled into a bun: the complete opposite of him and his sun-kissed skin from the many days spent basking in the sunlight. “I just heard from your grandmother that she collapsed recently…” she started, carefully folding the teal towel and hanging it on the handle of the oven.
He immediately straightened his back, leaning forward, eyebrows creased in worry. “Is she okay?”
“Um, she fractured her hip and had to under-go a surgery.” His mother bit her lip and he slouched down, eyes wide as saucers. Hajime silently watched her sit down across from him and allowed himself to relax slightly when he saw her calm expression. “Her doctor said she needs to stay in the hospital for a few days and will require in-home rehabilitation.” She took a deep breath. “This means someone has to go to Tokyo.”
“And you want me to go, right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in question, even though he already knew the answer.
“I can only take a week off and that’s at the beginning of August,” she supplied, a guilty look crossing her features. “I’m really sorry, Hajime. Your father also can’t make it until end of July. You’ll have to miss out on practice so I really didn’t want to ask you but…” She trailed off, casting her gaze to her lap.
“I don’t mind,” he said, smiling softly. “She shouldn’t be left alone in her condition and it’s not like something terrible will happen if I miss some practice, besides I’m sure the coach won’t complain.” He shrugged. “It’s not like our team is exceptionally strong.”
“Oh, Hajime,” she sighed, lacing her fingers together on the table and scrunching her eyebrows in thought. “Don’t be saying that.”
“It’s true, though. We’re already out of the inter-high, so we only have spring left.” He shrugged again, expression calm as he continued to ignore her pointed look. “When would I be leaving? I should inform the coach as soon as possible about the dates.”
“Preferably within the next few days. Your grandmother will stay in the hospital for a while longer, but the plan is to discharge her by Thursday.” She mused, pursing her lips. “Sorry to say, but you’ll be missing out on the last days of school this term. Would that bother you?”
He shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “No, it’s fine. My grades are up to a good standard so the teachers shouldn’t have a problem.” I’m barely passing them all, he cringed inwardly, but he didn’t want her to give him her infamous scowl if she found out he was bad at studying for exams. “Just let ‘em know,” he continued. “I’ll try to find the coach tomorrow and if not then during practice on Tuesday.”
“Thank you, Hajime,” his mother said sincerely, moving to stand up. “I’m making Agedashi Tofu; want some later?” she asked, smiling gently.
He grinned. “Of course I do.” He then stood up, deciding that the best course of action was probably to start packing for his two-or-more week venture into the suburban Tokyo. “I’ll start packing and if possible get the first train on either Tuesday or Wednesday. Though that depends on when I can speak to coach.”
“That’d be really helpful.” His mother nodded, smiling and he reciprocated the gesture before heading back upstairs, letting the door fall shut behind him.
He allowed himself to turn the volume of the music up, just slightly louder than it was but not quite enough to drown out the noises filtering in from the outside. He then dug his duffel bag (which he used when he was away from home for training camps that usually lasted a week) out of his wardrobe and dumped it in the middle of his neatly made bed.
“You’re going to Tokyo?” Hanamaki asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s quite the journey.”
“Yeah, but someone needs to stay with grandma and summer holidays are starting next week.” Iwaizumi shrugged, packing up his lunch box.
“When are you going?” Matsukawa piped in, sipping on an orange juice from a carton.
“I was going to speak to coach today if I can find him, and hopefully leave tomorrow. If not, he’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” he said, shoving his box into his bag. “He should be in the office.”
“Man, that’s so cool.” Matsukawa mused. “You should ask him for a favour, Takahiro.”
“What favour?” Iwaizumi asked, quirking an eyebrow and slinging his bag over his shoulder. He and Hanamaki migrated to Matsukawa’s class for lunch, as they rotated every week. This week happened to be in Class 1.
“Oh, my little sis is a big fan of Oikawa Tooru and wanted an autograph.” Hanamaki grinned. “And since you’ll be in Tokyo you could check out a few of his favourite hang-outs to see if you can find him.”
“I won’t be in central Tokyo, you guys.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m getting the train there, but then I’m heading straight to suburban areas where I’ll stay the whole time.”
“So, why are you going there, again?” Hanamaki asked, leaning back in his seat and packing up his own lunch.
“My grandma injured herself and had to have an operation, and now someone has to stay with her.” He shoved the chair back to the desk it belonged to and started turning around to head out. “And my parents can’t do it for the time being, so I have to do it. See you later.” He waved his hand, not waiting for his friends’ reply as he headed out to physical education office.
The walk there was brisk and he saw some students practising in one of the gymnasiums, throwing balls into the hoops and whooping loudly when they succeeded. The office was situated at the end of the corridor that was sandwiched between the two other gymnasiums.
He sharply knocked against the door and waited for a loud “come in” before opening it and stepping in. The Physical education teachers lounged around their desks, some talking amongst themselves. Irihata was sitting, laid-back, talking to the younger volleyball coach, Mizoguchi.
“Coach, can I speak to you for a moment?” he asked, and waited as Irihata stopped chuckling about something the other said.
“Sure thing, Iwaizumi,” Irihatasaid, voice light and airy. He was clearly in a good mood.
“I won’t be able to attend the practice for some time as I have to go to Tokyo to look after my grandma,” Iwaizumi supplied quickly, deciding to keep things short. He only had so much time before lessons resumed and he didn’t want his teacher to give him a lecture on punctuality in front of the whole class.
“Oh? I hope she feels better and if you can, try to do some individual practice when you’re there.” Irihata smiled, relaxed. “I do hope you’ll be back for the away-camp mid-August. The team needs to have their Captain, after all.”
“Of course.” Iwaizumi smiled. “And thank you.” He bowed before making his exit and walking quickly to his class. He felt like those two weeks away were going to drag on.
“So, you’re going tomorrow morning?” Hanamaki asked, as they headed to the convenience store around the corner from their school.
“Yeah, I spoke to coach and he’s fine with it as long as I’m back in time for the camp.”
“Oh? That’s generous. He’s not giving you shit despite the fact that you’re the team Captain.” Matsukawa seemed impressed.
“Yeah, but my role is just to keep everyone in order, basically. You two can do that while I’m gone.” He grinned. “I trust that you won’t corrupt our underclassmen, especially Kindaichi and Kunimi.”
“We’ll do our best,” they sang in unison, mischievously grinning as their trio entered the store, headed to the snack section.
“Oikawa!” The brown-haired teen jumped when he heard a loud bang down the hallway, followed by hurried footsteps. His two best friends, without a doubt, had let themselves in. “Guess what I’ve done!” An excited voice rang across the apartment and Oikawa could already imagine the expression his friend was making before he made himself known.
He sighed, pausing the documentary on crop circles he was watching as background noise on his laptop. He then sat up, anticipating his friend’s loud arrival with a magazine in his lap, featuring his most recent interview. He stared at the closed-door, tapping a finger against his knee.
“You mean what we’ve done, Bo.” A deeper, voice interjected as the footsteps sounded, drawing closer to the room. “If not for me, we wouldn’t have gotten it done in the first place.”
The door swung open, to reveal his two best friends, one smirking, and the other grinning from ear to ear. Oikawa blinked at them, knowing that those smiles didn’t exactly mean good news.
“Did you perhaps fix that awful hair-dye, Kou-chan?” Oikawa drawled, eyes his friend suspiciously. He had white-grey hair with black streaks that was styled up in spikes, resembling a great horned owl. Bokuto squawked, eyes bulging in surprise.
“WHAT? It’s not awful!” Bokuto argued, crossing his arms across his chest and turning his head to the side. “It’s freaking awesome!!”
“While it might be better than Kenma’s, I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s awesome…” He trailed off when he felt a burning look drilled into his head by his other friend. “But ignoring the topic of awful hair-dyes, what have you done?”
Bokuto’s annoyance was quickly replaced with the excitement from before and he opened his mouth, ready to speak, but Kuroo beat him to it. “We booked you a music venue for your birthday.” Bokuto squawked again, clearly shocked at being betrayed like that.
“Oh, and why would you do that, Tetsu-chan?” Oikawa asked, leaning forward with thinly-veiled curiosity.
“It’s not for your benefit, but rather, for your fans, duh.” Kuroo replied, collapsing into the green bean bag in the corner of the room. “With Kenma’s help we set up sales on your blog, with a few VIP that allow access backstage to meet you. Not many of those and they sold out in seconds!”
“Tetsu-cha~n,”Oikawa whined, dragging out the a. “You can’t just book people for something like this on their birthday. What if I had plans? And how do you even have access to my blog? I thought my manager changed it so you couldn’t access it anymore!” He pouted, glancing at the screen of his laptop that faded into an alien screensaver.
“I know your schedule, bro.” Bokuto collapsed on the bed next to Oikawa, snatching the magazine that was resting in his lap. “I know you’re free and even if you weren’t, you’d go with us anyway.” He grinned, flicking through the pages.
“Kenma helped us figure out your new password,” Kuroo added, shrugging.
“You guys are insufferable,” he huffed out.
“But you love us anyway.” Kuroo winked and blew him a mocking kiss.
“Gross. Don’t do that.” Oikawa cringed, pretending to swat the kiss away. “I don’t want to get infected with whatever you have that gives you that rooster head.”
“Hey, that’s –“
“Kenma said it’s because of the way he sleeps,” Bokuto said, lying on his back and holding the magazine away from his face, while reading a story one reader had submitted. “I’ve never seen it, but apparently he sleeps on his stomach and presses the pillow to either side of his head.” He threw the magazine back at Oikawa, who huffed, annoyed, and proceeded to demonstrate how Kuroo obtained his rooster head.
“How can you even breathe when you sleep like that?” Oikawa, asked, slightly mortified. “I have known you for a good few years but that’s the first I’m hearing of this. You should have definitely suffocated by now.” His eyes widened. “Maybe you’re an alien. A bad and mundane one, but an alien nonetheless.”
“What do you mean I’m mundane?” Kuroo scoffed, blowing at the portion of his hair that fell over his eye. “And you can’t know for sure how I sleep. Kenma is out before me and is still asleep when I wake up.” He frowned, staring at Bokuto. “What about you, Bo? I’ve never seen you with your hair down in years. There’s not even photographic evidence of it!”
“Akaashi and my parents have seen me with my hair down.”
“You guys are something else.” Oikawa rolled his eyes, shoving Bokuto aside to lean against the headboard of the bed. He rolled up the magazine and shoved it into one of the slightly ajar drawers of his nightstand. “You two can continue this outside, or stay here and be quiet, I wanna watch the rest of the documentary.”
“You were reading your interview in the magazine, weren’t you?” Kuroo asked, as he stood up and walked over, watching silently as Oikawa swept his finger across the mousepad and typed in his password.
“Mhmm,” he muttered, nodding. “Wanted to make sure they didn’t twist my words, as can be done with written interviews.”
“I’m guessing it was fine, since you’re not throwing a fit.” he settled down on Oikawa’s right, with Bokuto on Oikawa’s left. Bokuto stared at them for a moment but neither of them said anything.
Then, Oikawa pressed the play button and they fell into comfortable silence, with him sandwiched between his two best friends.