Oikawa taking a selfie after classes

twenty-seven| … —[]

twenty-six|masterlist|twenty-eight

summary:y/n and toru have been best friends since diapers, getting into all sorts of trouble along the way. it seems there’s nothing that could tear them apart, not iwa-chan, not toru’s weird obsession with aliens; even the move to tokyo couldn’t hinder their friendship. so… how would they fare upon realising that their platonic feelings aren’t quite platonic anymore?

EDIT:THE GROUPCHAT SHOWN IN THIS ONE WAS THE WRONG GROUPCHAT I WAS SUPPOSED TO USE THE SEIJOH 4 SUPREMACY ONE

extra sides;

• WELCOME BACK IWA’S LIL FURBABY MAPLE <3
• hanae (y/n’s mother) is under the impression that oikawa and y/n are dating (only bc of how clingy they were at the hospital)
• she very much approves
• the second year members are—for some reason—very attached to y/n
• tashi is a silent stalker

taglist—[]

taglist is closed! please do not asked to be added!

if you do not see your name below but you were originally on the taglist, it was removed for one reason and one reason only: i couldn’t tag you.

@atsumusc0ck@sassyglassesbunny@gyros-cum-sock@satanawakenedmyoceans@yamayoomi@tanakasimpcorner@tobi-momo@drakens-scar@elianetsantana@qualitygiantshoepsychic@bakugouswh0r3@oikawaandkuroostan@pasteldrop@tabipleats@kotarousproperty@art-junkie-13@fandomsgotmefucked@renhold-nightspear@fantasycantasy@cloudsz04@propertyoftoru@theperksofsimplybeingme@falconfeather23435@halcyondaisy@strawbrinkofdeath@rory-cakes@halparkebitch@grassbutneo@shookykookie30@arcanikez@discountkiyoko@oikawascutie@lovely-maryj@richiyo@tendo-sxtori@shoyotime@ghostietales@iamapotat@a-little-pebbl@chuchaelin

twenty-six|one wrong promise—[]

twenty-five|masterlist|twenty-seven

summary:y/n and toru have been best friends since diapers, getting into all sorts of trouble along the way. it seems there’s nothing that could tear them apart, not iwa-chan, not toru’s weird obsession with aliens; even the move to tokyo couldn’t hinder their friendship. so… how would they fare upon realising that their platonic feelings aren’t quite platonic anymore?

content warnings: mention(s) of seizure, mature language, depictions(?) of a panic attack

word count:5.4K

note(s):you’ll find a few unknown names in this chapter, it’s just the names of y/n’s relatives. decided to give them some because why not? ‍♀️

- also, i switch between ‘hanae’ and ‘your mother’ a lot. same thing with ‘kenji’ and ‘your father’.

- if there’s any mistakes in here, my care is so far gone. at this point, when the tags are added it bugs out and i can’t edit the chapter ever again lol :> enjoy, it don’t, whatever you feel like

“You know the cashier was considering calling the cops on you.” Was the first thing you said once you emerged from the small convenience store. Oikawa whipped around with eyes as wide as saucers.

“What?Why?” The mere thought of being approached by unhappy officers sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. “I-I wasn’t doing anything!” You shrugged, readjusting the plastic bag suspended from your fingers. When you took the first couple of steps, it took him a moment to register your movement before he took up the space right beside you.

“Maybethat was why. You looked mad suspicious, Toru.” He fumbled for his words, brows furrowing with deepening frustration the more incoherent he became. Before too long, his cheeks resembled that of everlasting flames; a hue of burning red that seemed to spread across the expanse of his skin with no end in sight. Your lips twitched and curved up into a jubilant smile as the visible warmth latched onto his ears, going as far as to creep along the exposed skin of his neck.

Oikawa’s lips tightened; an attempt to quell the rising embarrassment that flooded forth.

“How on earth was I ‘mad suspicious’?” He bent his fingers as he quoted you, arching a brow smoothly, scrutinising gaze upon your face. “I was just standingthere!”

You laughed, recounting the anxiety written into the employee’s face as they served you, occasionally glancing through the large window towards Oikawa. They had even asked youforyour opinion; whether they should actually call the police or not, quickly prompting an awkward explanation that he wasn’t intentionally being suspicious, just waiting patiently for you.

Oikawa grumbled, turning away as his skin upheld its new crimson tint, his volleyball jacket suddenly becoming far too hot to handle. His fingers toyed temporarily with the zipper before pulling it down, fussing with the flaps of the jacket. The sigh that fled from his lips caught your attention rather quickly, though you dropped your gaze to the cracked pavement.

“It shouldn’t be much further.” You could sense his confusion even without looking at him. “Th-the hospital, I mean.”

“Ah, right. It’s just up ahead. I can see it.” Oikawa nodded, hands falling away from the hem of his jacket. “I, uh, don’t think you actually told me what happened this morning… after I left?” The lack of traffic alongside the road allowed his hesitant words to flow through the air easily, drawing a soft hum from your lips.

“Right, I guess I got distracted by the locker incident… thought I told you.” You knew you had forgotten something; it had been bugging you since first class of the day. “Well, when you left we figured we’d go check on him and see if he was ready to eat or at least awake.” You gripped the plastic bag tighter as the short memories faded in and out, such as your father’s bedroom door only slightly ajar.

“We went in and… I didn’t think anything was wrong at first until ‘ma came in right after.” Oikawa slipped his hands into his pockets, listening intently to your words, unfazed by the shakiness in your tone (or so he thought). His hand flexed subconsciously within his pocket, itching to reach out and grasp yours in a comforting hold. “She started panicking because it looked like he’d just been seizing, which hasn’t ever happened before… a-and then we couldn’t wake him up.”

He felt his heart leap up into his throat. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how you would have felt upon discovering your father in such a state. He bit the inside of his cheek, unable to offer any words of consolation.

“‘Ma called an ambulance and then called his parents and his sister… so they weren’t left in the dark, you know?” You lifted your head for what seemed like the first time in forever, sparing your friend a quick, pitiful glance before gazing ahead at the hospital. “Apparently an argument sparked up which was just the icing on the shit cake. But, I’d already left before all that went down; I wasn’t really interested in sitting in another hospital room for god-knows how long…” You pursed your lips, head tilted to the side as you stared ahead, taking in the slow-growing traffic.

“That sounded really bad… it’s not that I don’t want to be there with him—of course, I do—it-it’s just…”

“No, no.” Oikawa interrupted, waving his hand. “I get it. I bet your parents would understand, too. Hospitals can really take it out of a person, even when you’re not the one stuck in the bed.” He bit his tongue, hoping that the words he was mindlessly letting slip were the right ones. He assumed they were after spotting the grateful smile that wandered onto your lips.

“I know it pretty much pales in comparison, but when my nephew was in hospital for a broken leg, it was exhausting just sitting there with him for a couple of hours.” You tilted your head at the mention of said nephew. “You can bet Akiko was beyond the point of exhaustion after all that.” You grimaced, waves of sympathy emanating off of you for his sister.

“Yeah… ‘ma never really got back to sleeping properly after his first admission to hospital…” you sighed, “and that was ages ago.” Oikawa’s brows furrowed, studying the gentle way you peeked down into your bag, carefully readjusting the unhealthy snacks you had—without a doubt—slipped in. A vague curve made your lips twitch for a moment before you looked back up, the curve flattening unhappily.

You couldn’t say you didn’t feel his unmoving gaze, boring holes into the side of your head; that would be lying. You simply chose not to acknowledge it, fearing you would be reduced to a puddle of embarrassment; uncharacteristically bashful beneath his watchful eyes. With the rampant thoughts and racing voices that trekked through your mind, you would have spilled instantly. The second you met those anxious pools of earthy hues, reminiscent to that of autumnal leaves—speckled with gorgeous displays of colour—you would have lost the plot you loosely held together.

Avery awkward silence cruised into the atmosphere around the two of you, though neither you or Oikawa spoke to clear the air. He exhaled deeply, turned his head and followed your line of sight until he was staring at the underwhelming stature of the hospital, an unsettling feeling churning in the pit of his stomach.

Herefused to interrupt the quiet. As the two of you wandered through the small hospital after receiving the room number, close enough for your arms to keep brushing, he didn’t dare speak. From the slight crease of your brows, Oikawa knew you were amidst your thoughts; processing, most likely. Despite the familiarity, your current predicament seemed to require just as much processing as before.

The closer you got to the designated room, the more you began to fidget with the bag in your hand. Oikawa tipped his head towards the faint rustling of the plastic, spotting the anxiety that adorned your features. A mumble itched in his throat, momentarily stealing your attention away from the shining tiles lining the halls.

“You still breathing over there?” Oikawa quipped softly as the two of you slowed to a synchronised halt, eyeing the number engraved into the closed door. You hummed, biting the inside of your cheek. “Sorry, I-I just… you’re very quiet and I was worried…” He sputtered, fingertips grazing over his wrist.

“Mm… I’m okay… f-for now, at least.” You opened the bag and looked over the contents one last time, assuring yourself that you hadn’t missed anything. You blew out a heavy sigh, gripping onto the plastic material before gazing back up at the boy beside you. “Thanks for this, Toru…”

Oikawa’s lips parted swiftly, an onslaught of words on the tip of his tongue only to be reduced to nothing as a hand crept along his clothed forearm. His eyes shot down, staring at your fingers as they wrapped around his limb as best as they could. When you tipped your head, peeking up to check for a response, he smiled. It was a smile so familiar yet so foreign, in the sense that it was stirring about an unfamiliar reaction.

“Quite frankly, I feel you shouldn’t have more of a say in this situation than we do,” a disdainful voice hissed quietly as the two of you entered the room, “considering we’rehisblood relatives.” Oikawa flinched as your grip tightened, briefly glancing down at your hardened expression.

“He’s my husband… surely, that has to count for something?” Your mother fought back in the same hushed tone, seated close by the hospital bed with her hand tightly resting within the sickly man’s. Your grandmother sat on the opposite side of the bed, an arm propped up against the low-hanging window sill as she directed an ugly scowl towards her daughter-in-law. Clearly, there wasn’t an ounce of shame in the old woman’s body as the bitter expression remained upon her face, not once faltering when you and Oikawa entered.

“Hi,” you whispered, slowly removing your mask, “how is he..?”

Your mother turned her head and—despite the warm smile that greeted you—the exhaustion in her eyes was clear as day. She tightened her grip on her husband’s hand, lifting it only slightly for you to see.

“He doesn’t go down without a fight, you know that, sweetheart.” Her tone was shaky, gaze shifting from you to Oikawa slowly. “How was school today, you two?”

A thousand words flew to your tongue, ready to pierce the air, yet they stilled; clinging onto the very tip. An abyssal dread tore open in the depths of your stomach as you silently recounted the day and the many that came before it. There were a multitude of issues you ached to share with her, all revolving around a single person who’d brought more harm than good in only a short matter of time. The nagging guilt in the back of your mind prevented any and every word from escaping. She already had enough on her plate. It would be selfish to try and overshadow the critical condition that tied your father to his hospital bed.

“U-uh, it was alright,” Oikawa sputtered, his free hand wandering up to his nape, “there was a pop quiz in maths but I’m confident we both did fairly well.” You lifted your head as the lie fell smoothly from his lips, subconsciously squeezing his forearm. His eyes met yours sneakily for a moment before he turned his attention back to your mother, a sympathetic frown attached to his features.

“Well, that’s good… I knew I shouldn’t have been too worried,” she hummed, her head tilted back as she gazed at the ceiling, silently whispering another string of prayers; you were certain that particular lot were for your father. Her head dropped back slowly, attention switching back to the resting man. You awkwardly stood by Oikawa, cautious gaze flickering between the three women in the room as you fiddled with the plastic bag. Your grandmother was still hunched over in her chair, maintaining the same unmoving scowl as she glanced at you, not a sliver of guilt behind her thin, wrinkled eyes.

Oikawa shuddered lightly, subconsciously pulling you closer to his side; courtesy of your unrelenting grip on his arm. He never recalled the frail, old lady being so… terrifying with such little effort. From the tiny glance he shot your way, he found that it was a new sight for you as well; her crinkling features ripe with anger, blood no doubt boiling beneath her skin. When she peered away from your mother, scrutinising over the pair of you still standing idly by the door, you dropped your head.

There was hardly any room between you and Oikawa as you stepped even closer, unnerved by the silence and the thick tension that hung heavy in the air. There was a spurt of movement beside you as he readjusted, shifting his weight back and forth from one leg to the other. You were certain his thoughts were nothing more than ‘well, this is awkward…’, a cliche cough spilling from his lips in a futile attempt to clear the air.

“Here, Y/n,” he called softly, stepping away momentarily, “wanna sit?” You looked over as the boy gently tugged an empty chair back to where you stood, visibly cringing at the numbing screech while it pushed against the tile. A soft hum vibrated through your lips that twitched at the corners; seemingly contagious to him and him only as his own smile adorned his lips.

“Thanks.” You whispered, sliding your hand along his forearm as you moved to sit down, only to stop halfway through. “Oh, but… what about you? Don’t you wanna sit?” He shook his head, dropping his hands to your shoulders to gently guide you into the chair.

“I’ll be fine, strawberry,” he whispered to the back of your head, just loud enough for you to hear, “you looked tired. I wanted you to sit down and relax for a moment, at least.” You caved and nodded along to his words, grateful for his presence that radiated a soothing sense of serenity in large, comforting waves. It was just what you needed to keep from succumbing to the pressuring knots growing and tangling under your grandmother’s influence. You noted that he’d kept one hand atop your shoulder, occasionally giving it a reassuring squeeze to quell any rising nerves.

“Mama,please…” At the exasperated plea that sounded from your mother’s helpless lips, you peeked up. “We don’t need to have another argument right now… especially not in front of the children.”

Oikawa’s mind itched, an instinctive need to let one of his infamous quips slip out tickling the back of his throat. We’re not ‘children’ anymore, he would’ve chirped in any other situation. Your highschool days were nearly over; that had to count for something, right?

“I am not your mother, Hanae.” She shot back, pupils thinning even further with each slow, irate blink. “And we’ll have this conversation as many times as I please, whether these two are here or not. That is my son in that bed; my son hooked up to all of those nasty machines.” You chose to sink back into your chair, cradling the plastic bag in your lap as you patiently awaited your mother’s interjection. Usually, she’d have no qualms about biting back, one to quickly jump from one point to the next with incredible precision.

Oikawa’s brows furrowed as he peered between the two older women, stares intense enough to pierce the strongest of metals with their heat.

“So, you agree that the machines are ‘nasty’?”

“Clearly.” Her hardened stare softened when she glanced down at her son. “I don’t want him to need them 24/7 like he did the whole time you were in Tokyo. But… if it keeps him alive, I don’t see an issue with it.”

“Kenjitold you he hates them. He told you that if he were ever in this situation again…” Your mother cut herself off, sucking in a deep exhale. “Did you just choose not to acknowledge him then? You do realise that he’s the one who knows what’s best for him, right? Not you.”

“Well,clearly he’s incapable of figuring out what’s ‘best for him’! I mean, you were far from his first choice, Hanae.” You grimaced, attention immediately jumping towards your mother as she stilled, face contorted into horrific shock. “And now you’re trying to take away the only thing keeping him alive?”

“H-hey, maybe we should all calm down?” Oikawa called out cautiously, a hand hovering in the air. He visibly flinched when your grandmother whipped around, eyeing his figure up and down meticulously. “I-I mean… maybe hereandnow isn’t the best place for one of your ‘discussions’..?” He worded it carefully, eyes darting back and forth between the three ladies now staring at him, and yourself—too busy readjusting the treats in the plastic bag to notice.

He swallowed thickly, fingers moving towards the loose seams of his jacket.

“I-I just don’t think he would like the first thing he hears when he wakes up to be the most important people in his life arguing.” There was yet another silence that passed through the small room, somehow shoving away the overwhelming scent of cleanliness and leaving behind a bitter aftertaste. He watched as the old lady—once soft and benevolent—hunched forward, glaring daggers straight at his anxious figure.

“I don’t recommend getting yourself caught up in family matters that don’t even concernyou,boy.” You raised your head gradually, fingers falling away from the unreliable straps of the bag. “Last time I checked, you weren’t apart of this family. Unless there’s something else you’ve decided to hide from me, Hanae?” She spat angrily, bouncing her frustrations back towards your irritated mother. Oikawa could only stand in silence, astonished by the declaration of harsh facts. Your grandmother had always considered his family—and Iwaizumi’s, too—as an extension of her own, even without the same blood running through their veins—through hisveins.Hell, she’d always be the first to volunteer babysitting because she adored the three of you.

He didn’t know exactly what had contorted her mind, nor what had rotted the kindness in her heart and replaced it with suffocating toxicity. He could only assume it had something to do with the sickly male shifting about in his hospital bed.

“Toru’s right.” You interjected, saving your mother some breath. “And, with all due respect, I think you should watch what you’re saying.” You wanted to sink back into your chair, to hide behind the wall of muscle stood beside you; at least that’s what your rapidly thrumming heart desired. It was a wild animal, caged behind rows of fragile ribs with a burning desire for freedom; untameable.

She whipped her head around, lip curled in distaste, “I should watch what I’m saying? Where are your manners, Y/n? Speaking out of turn like that?” You bit your tongue accidentally as you looked away, slowly stepping back towards your chair. “I suppose it’s as they say; like mother, like daughter. It’s no surprise you’re taking pages from herbook.”

Why were you backing down? Oikawa’s gaze followed you in confusion as you sat once more, avoiding all contact with the others in the room. You had just harboured an admirable amount of confidence that sent a rhythm of tingles along his spine, confidence that had disappeared as quickly as it arose.

“Kenji?” Briefly intrigued, he picked his gaze up from your slouched figure and back towards the frail women, an unusual smile curved upon her lips; a stark contrast to the uncouth tones she’d thrown about moments before. The man was shifting, groaning and grumbling beneath ragged breaths. “Oh, sweetheart… I cannot believe your ‘wonderful’ wife wants to take away everything keeping you here with me…”

“Okay,mama,” Hanae called out, standing from her chair. “If you’re not doneyet,we can stand outside until you are. I’m not about to have this argument again, especially in front of Kenji after all he’s been through… I think Y/n deserves some time with her father anyway.”

“Foolish of you to think that I’ll be leaving my darling’s side.” The words she spat, full of resentment, practically bounced off your mother. Hanae was fed up, that much was true.

“Mama, come on.” The third lady who had been sitting silently in the room spoke up, hand resting wrapping around her mother’s arm, shielding whatever mottled skin was there from view. Her grip, although seemingly gentle, was tight; just shy of bruising. Without much else to say, the bitter elder got up on unsteady legs and followed the two women outside, the door closing behind them.

Oikawa stared for a moment, processing the entire situation in a devastating amount of time. His heart hurt, his head hurt. For himself, for Kenji but mostly for you.

“I-I’m so sorry about all that, Toru…” you murmured guiltily, lifting your head once more as a look of embarrassment landed upon your pained features. “I didn’t think that—“

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone copes with stress differently, I guess…” he shrugged it off as best as he could, allowing whatever anxiety remained teetering on his shoulders to slide gracefully off the side for the time being. “Anyway, he’s awake now. Let’s show him what you brought, okay? Forget about everything else for a little while…”

You shot up abruptly, eyes glazing over the man struggling to sit upright beneath several otherwise light covers. Oikawa trailed behind you as you shuffled over to the bedside, quietly calling out to your father as a means of comfort. You handed the bag off to Oikawa—who noted the way the straps were nearly severed, held together by a few loose strands of worn plastic—and grabbed onto your father’s shoulder, slowly helping him adjust to the bed.

“How-how do you feel?” You stuttered out and, by the downward pull of your brows, Oikawa could easily sense your nerves regarding his answer. Kenji blinked irregularly, trying to rid of the haze in his eyes as a hand blindly searched for yours. “I’m right here. Do you feel alright?” His hand, much larger than your own, wrapped snug around your fingers, a content hum vibrating through his body. His hum was soon cut off by a harrowing coughing fit.

You sucked in a sharp breath, pulling your hands away instinctively as the man lurched forwards, chest convulsing painfully as he wheezed and gasped. Your hands fell to your lap, a dreaded sense of helplessness fogging your mind; there wasn’t a single thing you could do to ease his pain, to make it all go away—and it hurt. It hurt, realbad. So much so, you hadn’t even registered the hand that had become attached to your shoulder, squeezing it unbearably tight.

“Hah…” He breathed out when the fit weakened. “Never felt better, kiddo.”

“You’re not funny…”

“No? I-I think I’m quite hilarious,” he grinned back weakly, resting his arm against the thin railing protruding from the side of the bed. Your eyes raked over each prominent vein that branched beneath thin, sickly skin, bulging uncomfortably in the light.

“What do you think, young man?” He called out, gaining Oikawa’s attention immediately. “I’m…-I am funny, right?” With a nervous quirk of his lips, Oikawa laughed, giving into the older man’s unspoken request to follow along.

“Funniest man I’ve ever had the pleasure to know,” he admitted, noting how you paused to glare at him from the corner of your eye.

“Don’tencouragehim,please.”

“Oh, sweetheart, relax…” Kenji wheezed, lifting a heavy hand to your head. You winced temporarily as it dropped haphazardly against your hair, rough fingers digging in as far as they could. All in a loving manner, of course. “Say, what’s in your little bag there?” You shifted away, gently placing his hand back into the bed beside his restless figure as you turned to reach for Oikawa. He carefully handed off the bag to you, his free hand tracing over one of your shoulders towards the other.

“We stopped by that little convenience store on the way here… y-you know? The one you used to take us to when we were little?” You toyed with the thin strips of plastic, lips tugging upwards as your father made a noise of excitement, fond of the distant memory. “We got you a few things…but… now that I think about it, you probably can’t even eat them, huh?”

Oikawa gave your head a sympathetic pat.

“I’m sure he’ll still appreciate the thought, whether or not he can eat them.” You smiled, subconsciously leaning into his touch as his comforting words spilled from lips to ears.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard… a more c-correct statement in my en-tire life.” Your father croaked, stuttering and stumbling over a few words and occasionally pausing to find breath. Although your lips were curved upwards into a pretty little smile, the sadness shone through clear as day. In spite of that, to maintain your father’s happiness, you slowly began to pick out each sweet treat one at a time; Oikawa noted how animated—how euphoric—you grew as the exchanges continued.

He pulled your grandmother’s chair over to sit beside you, elbows resting against his knees as he held in his chin in his hands; only to shift quickly after, seeking a more comfortable position. He leaned over his favoured side of the chair—the right side, aka;your side. Oikawa’s gaze switched frequently between you and Kenji, scanning for the ill man’s reactions to each hidden treat you removed from the bag. Each one was seemingly brighter than the last, etching one of equal width onto your own lips. Occasionally, when he wasn’t stuck in stillness by the silencing grin of adoration inching further into his cheeks, he would offer up a laugh at your father’s jokes, only to fall quiet when your elbow launched out and gently nudged him.

“You always used to get this mochi, right?” You hummed, crumpling up the plastic bag and dropping it by your feet as you brought out the final package. “Why was it always this gross off-brand?”

Kenji, feigning shock, took the small package with trembling hands, “they aren’t gross! You little monster… th-these are a delicacy!”

“Toru? You have to agree with me on this one, right?” You turned to face him, a wisp of a smile upon your face. Kenji also spared him a quick glance, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Sorry, Sir,” he sighed, cracking a soft grin as you grabbed onto his forearm with exaggerated excitement. “This off-brand mochi was the worst.” Kenji tossed his head back against his pillows, a string of broken cackles drifting into the air as you directed an ‘aggressive’ point in his direction.

“See? I was right! Your taste buds have always been messedup.”

His laughter fell into a sickening fit of coughing, soon becoming hand-in-hand with heart-wrenching gasps for air. His smile was long gone, vein-riddled hand reaching for the bed’s railing for a tiny sense of stability. Your figure went rigid, grip tightening around Oikawa’s forearm as your eyes flickered about. The same flood of hopelessness, dreaded by both teenagers, overwhelmed the room in a mere matter of seconds. Monitors beeped, a tiny red light blinked angrily, a flurry of feet stomped about outside of the door.

In that moment… every single sound… no matter how quiet or loud, how seemingly insignificant; they all merged. You wanted it all to stop, you wanted everything and everyone to just shut up. You wanted to go back to those few moments prior; where the three of you—Oikawa, your father, yourself—were all happily joking and pointing out different snacks.

Speaking of… with the arrival of the nurses, the snacks were cast aside without a single moment of hesitation, clattering to the floor and forgotten amidst the haste.

“I’m sorry but may I ask for you two to wait outside with the rest of Mr L/n’s visitors?” A nurse asked softly, guiding you and Oikawa towards the door with cautious, hovering hands.

“Y-yeah, sure thing,” Oikawa nodded, noting that amongst all the movement, you still held onto him, wide eyes flickering back and taking in the messy scene on display. “Strawberry? Hey, come on… we’d be better out here while they help him.”

“…Y/n..?” His fingers ghosted over your knuckles, cringing inwardly at the uncomfortably tight squeeze your hand had on his skin. Slowly, he pulled you out of the room, still caught within your daze. With one hand, he carefully lifted the straps of his mask over his ears, reaching over to assist you with your own. Your hands moved mindlessly, without direction; simply trailing up to meet his as they crept across your face, fixing the strange crinkles of the surgical mask.

“Y/n, hey… you can hear me, right?” He whispered, hands hesitantly finding solace against the bottom of your jaw, trying to bring your fixation back towards him. “He’ll be alright, I promise.”

You blinked once. Then twice. Then three times for good measure, gradually allowing yourself to adjust. He seemed unnerved—only slightly—when all you could offer him was a broken stare, eyelids twitching subtly as you fought the urge to blink once more. You knew that as soon as your eyes closed, no matter how long you chose to embrace the brief darkness that would follow, the second you opened them they would be lined with stinging tears. Overwhelming surges of emotion sent you into the boy’s open arms, fingers twisting and squeezing at the fabric of his shirt.

“H-he’s in so much p-pain, T-Toru…” you hiccuped, forehead pressed right into his chest. Oikawa’s hands hovered over the moving ridges of your shoulder blades before dropping down against your back, one quickly trailing up towards the back of your head. You continued to mumble and cry, a crackling voice shifting in tandem with the unsteady shaking of your body.

He dropped his head to the crook of your neck, ignoring the uncomfortable strain of his back and the slow-growing, damp patch against his chest.

“I know, I know…” He closed his own eyes, trying to blink away the few tears desperately clinging to his lashes. “God… I know, Y/n.” His gaze flickered away from the wall he stood by, soon finding the guilty honey-hued eyes watching your sobbing figure from afar. A hint of a smile, via trembling lips, danced upon your mother’s lips, grateful for his presence as he practically cradled you in his arms. In a brief matter of seconds, she lifted her mask from her chin and placed it back over her nose, entering the room with long strides.

Oikawa’s attention swiftly returned to you at the muffled gasps and intense shaking that overcame your body, vibrating through his limbs with a sympathetic ache. Despite the incessant longing to keep you wrapped in his arms, he gently pulled you out of his chest, looking down at your tear-stained face as he removed your mask. God, he hated seeing you in such a state; it was as if someone had just ripped his heart out. He fought every pull in his body, he fought the instinct to carefully cup your puffy cheeks within his soft palms.

Your weeping drew silent, though it was far from over; shoulders shifting abnormally, body still racked with unsteady shudders.

“Y/n,breathe, okay?” He whispered into the crown of your head. “I know it’s hard but I need you to focus on me, alright?”

“I-I can’t… h-he… he—“

“I know, strawberry,” he interrupted quietly, pulling his mask to his chin, hoping that the use of the cutesy nickname would ease your nerves. “But you need to be okay first… I’m right here, look at me, okay? Look at me and we’ll do this together.” You nodded shakily, following as he breathed in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth. Your hands—much smaller than his—draped weakly over his fingertips, struggling against the internal embarrassment dwelling in your system, demanding you avert your gaze. You hated the sense of fragility; the weakness that overcame you as his gaze settled and refused to move from your face.

“You’re doing so well, Y/n,” he hummed, smiling softly at you. “Don’t pay any mind to anything else, alright? Just me. Just us.”

“I’m s-sorry, I-I…”

“What the heck are you apologising for, huh?” He quirked a brow, allowing a hushed laugh to pass through his lips. When your panic seemed to calm, leaving ragged whimpers and sniffles in its wake, he frowned. “Y/n… don’t apologise… you haven’t done anything wrong.”

You didn’t respond with anything other than a quick step closer to his hunched figure, hesitantly wrapping your arms around his midsection. The floor seemed to sway beneath your feet, knees weak and wobbly urging a tighter grip on the boy you so pathetically clung to.

“Y/n…” he whispered, once again dropping his head to your shoulder, lips pulled taut as they sat against the thin fabric of your school shirt. Gradually, Oikawa backed up into the nearby wall, sliding down onto the floor with you snug in his embrace.

“I’ve got you.” His eyelids fell heavy, closing temporarily at the gradual relaxation of your limbs. One hand moved up to the back of your head, holding you even closer (if it were possible). “I’ve got you…”

extra sides;

• everyone in the vbc (aside from iwaizumi) is under the impression that oikawa and y/n are on a date
• when they were little, Kenji would take the trio to the convenience store every friday afternoon.
• yes, he only ever eats crappy off brands
• oikawa tends to make a lot of promises he can’t keep.
• i am so sorry for the wait lmao <3

taglist —[]

taglist is closed! please do not ask to be added!

(i will be removing those that are unable to be tagged next chapter <3)

@atsumusc0ck@sassyglassesbunny@gyros-cum-sock@satanawakenedmyoceans@yamayoomi@tanakasimpcorner@tobi-momo@drakens-scar@elianetsantana@qualitygiantshoepsychic@bakugouswh0r3@oikawaandkuroostan@pasteldrop@tabipleats@kotarousproperty@art-junkie-13@fandomsgotmefucked@renhold-nightspear@ctrlaprilx@fantasycantasy@someoneovertherainboww@cloudsz04@suhchopath@propertyoftoru@theperksofsimplybeingme@falconfeather23435@halcyondaisy@gray-444@strawbrinkofdeath@rory-cakes@halparkebitch@grassbutneo@shookykookie30@arcanikez@lazyfroyo@discountkiyoko@oikawascutie@lovely-maryj@richiyo@stormcastello@i-need-hugs@tendo-sxtori@shoyotime@ghostietales@iamapotat@a-little-pebbl@chuchaelin

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Trapped in the university library due to a raging blizzard outside, you are forced to endure the cold night with the man you hate the most: the player who lives in the dorm across from you, Tooru Oikawa. But with tensions and anxieties at an all-time high, you begin to realize your feelings for Oikawa aren’t quite what you thought they were, especially when all he wants to do is keep you warm. 

A/N: I took like six hours to write this??? Bruh callin’ amateur hour in this bitch eh, whatever, enjoy!

Word count: 5345

        Snow, layers upon layers, piled up outside of the library. The glass doors of the library had long frosted over, and inside the lights began to flicker. Outside every window was a blanket of white, everything in the distance far too foggy to see through the flurry of flakes. 

       The lone television suspended above the library’s main desk played the same succession of videos–static with white noise, a scrolling of text warning people to stay inside, three loud buzzes, then more static with white noise. It far overpowered the sound of the library’s heater kicking on, its automatic settings desperately trying to battle the cold that succeeded in invading the closed and locked library. 

       You sighed, sparing another glance at the exit and the wall of snow that kept rising against it. Minutes ago you’d tried pushing open the doors, only succeeding in chilling the tips of your fingers against the frozen metal. Ever since then, your fingers never truly seemed to recover. 

       Just your luck; first a small windstorm had delayed your flight back home for Christmas Break, and now, just when you’d given up and decided to work on a few research projects while being stuck at the university, you were trapped inside the library. 

       But you weren’t alone. No, of course not. As if fate had it out for you, you were stuck inside the building with the one guy you despised with your whole being. 

       “Gum?”

       Oikawa held out a piece, a small smirk dancing on the edge of his lips. When all he received in response was a blank stare, he shrugged and unwrapped it, tossing it in his mouth before toying with the wrapper. 

       The both of you sat behind the librarian’s desk in tall, wooden stools. It was the only place with service, and it was where you had both scurried to the second the storm warning chimed through the announcement speakers. 

       While you had attempted to push through the doors, Oikawa had called the school’s main office, warning them of your predicament. Of course, he’d cut himself off halfway through with a cackle at the sight of the door slamming back in your face, but nonetheless he’d gotten a simple, if completely undesirable response. 

       “The both of you need to stay in there and not leave. It’s far too dangerous to go out into the blizzard right now. Tomorrow morning it should be calmed down, and then we’ll send people over to get you. For now, try to stay warm.”

       When he relayed this message to you, you had him put them on speaker so you could hear it with your own two ears. 

       Pop.

       Alas, it was the truth. You were stuck.

       Pop.

       With your worst enemy. Alone. 

       Pop.

       During a blizzard. 

       “Will you stop doing that?” you hissed, heaving a glare at him. 

       Oikawa froze in his seat, a gum-bubble the size of a golf ball slowly deflating with a wheeze. He raised his hands in surrender. “Excuse me for trying to find some source of joy in this miserable place. Maybe you should try having fun once in a while, YN.”

       Your cheeks burned in shame at that. “I have fun!”

       A single brown brow rose. “Do you?”

       “Yes,” you folded your arms across your chest, “I do. But unlike you, I don’t do it at the expense of other people’s sanity.”

       Long ago, amidst your third week of your first year at the university, you learned that you and Oikawa were two vastly different people. In co-ed dorms, he lived just across from you, and it seemed he reminded you of that every other night. 

       While loud music boomed across the hall and eventually spread throughout the building, you sat inside your dorms, hands over the headphones over your ears. You were usually leant over a textbook, pencil and notes abandoned long ago as you tried to comprehend the words despite not being able to hear your own thoughts. 

       Your roommate would slip out to join the fun, meeting and laughing with someone who had knocked on your door. Then that someone had tapped a single finger on your shoulder, squatting down beside your desk and leaning his head to one side. 

       As usual, a teasing smile danced on his lips. “You gonna join us, or sit here studying like a Debbie Downer?”

       You’d be the first–and most certainly not the last–to admit that he was attractive. Brown hair exploding in tufts and swept across his forehead. Bronze eyes twinkling in the light of your lamp. Thin, pink lips pulled into a goading grin. 

       “Come on, I promise the water’s warm.”

       It was at that moment that you started to hate him.

       “Get out of my room.”

       The smugness blanketing his face had dropped for a split second, and you genuinely wondered if you were the first to ever resist his charms. But how could you not, when in every second of your interaction with him, it felt like he was laughing at you?

       Hesitantly, it seemed, he rose to his feet, stumbling a bit. You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was already drunk, but you hadn’t smelled it earlier when he was inches from your face. 

       “All right,” he chuckled, rising to his full height with his hands on his knees. Swiftly, he turned and made his way to your door, not bothering to look back at you again. “I know when I’m not wanted. Enjoy your studying, YN.”

       How he’d learned your name, you never really. You’d figured he caught it on the first day of the one class you shared with him, English, amidst mandatory introductions. Since then, every time your name fell on his lips, he more sang it than said it, always in that sly tone of his. 

       You hated it. You hated him. 

       And now, as you spent the third day of Christmas Break locked inside alone with him in a freezing library, you found yourself despising him even more. 

       Pop.

       “Well, YN, you should know better than anyone that I have a knack for driving people insane,” Oikawa hummed, long fingers folding the edges of his gum wrapper against the desk surface. Your eyes drawn to the action, you absentmindedly scoffed. 

       “Yes, I certainly do.”

       His eyes darted to yours, an emotion flitting across them before dropping back down to his miniature origami. A chill ran up your spine. 

       “I’m going to go look for some blankets,” you sputtered out of the blue. You found yourself reflecting his shocked look, a little surprised at yourself at the outburst. 

       “Okay,” he grinned after a pause. “Hurry back soon.”

       Ignoring the wink he offered you, you slipped out of your chair and left him alone behind the desk counter, effectively beginning your search for stray, abandoned coverings. 

       Instantly, you realized the rest of the library was significantly chillier than the desk up front. Though the heater was still pumping and hissing through the air vents above you, it was now rattling much more forcefully than before.

       Must be the snow piling on top of the electrical system or something. 

       The fluorescent lights buzzed above you, still cutting off and flickering every few seconds as you passed bookshelf after labeled bookshelf. Signs labeled with genres and areas of study swung from the ceiling over rows of different-colored bindings. So distracted, you let out a yelp of pain after stubbing your toe against an abandoned book cart, plenty of go-backs filed one after the other in no discernible order. 

       “YN?” Far off, Oikawa’s voice called after you. Despite the distance you’d created between the two of you, he still must have heard your pained shout. A small part of you was surprised he bothered to acknowledge the noise at all. 

       Maybe he’s not a complete pain in the ass.

       “Yeah, that was me, I’m fine! Just hit my foot on something!”

       “Do you need help finding your way around? I’m sorry, I forgot my walking rope, so we’ll have to hold hands!”

       Nevermind, still a dick. 

       “Fuck you!”

       “That’s why I’m here!”

       Rolling your eyes, you purse your lips to prevent giving in to his teasing further. With a few hissed curses under your breath, you continue venturing through the uninhabited building. Though you did find a few abandoned belongings, none of which were of much use. A few too small hoodies, one suspicious pair of sweatpants, and some stray sunglasses. One poor soul even forgot their backpack at one of the work tables, and despite your initial curiosity, you refrained from digging through it and instead left it where it was. 

       It was when you arrived at the individual work areas divided by wooden partitions that your search finally paid off. Because it was arranged against a line of floor-to-ceiling windows, it was significantly colder in this work area than any other place you’d come across. Luckily, that also meant there was a higher chance of you finding spare blankets–which you did. 

       One was still strewn across the back of a work chair, a black fur throw with no designs but a single tear at one corner, presumably where a tag had been. Another, this one cream-colored, knitted wool, sat in a crumpled pile on the very last desk of the entire area, arranged in the furthest corner of the library from the entrance. The bulb in the ceiling above this desk had been out ever since the first time you’d been in the library, so you weren’t surprised to figure that people crammed out naps between studying in this dark little corner.

       While gathering the two–scratch that, there was another on the ground next to you–three blankets in your arms, you spared a look outside the windows. Frost and a glaze of ice covered each corner where metal met glass, and, because you were on the first floor, you could see how high the snow had piled by now. It reached as high as your hips, with more flakes joining or splatting against the pane every second. 

       The sun, you could see, was just barely setting, the gray of the sky growing darker. Soon enough, it was darker inside than it was outside. 

       The power. It had gone out.

       “YN!”

       Because the heater sputtered a few more clicks before kicking the bucket, you could barely hear Oikawa’s voice, far off and muffled, over the large distance you’d covered in the library. The lights above you no longer buzzed, and instead an unsettling silence took over the building. 

       “Oikawa! The lights!” You hugged the blankets to your chest with one straining arm, the other fumbling with your phone flashlight. You began the trek back to the front desk, squinting to try and make out shelves and stray books along the way. Despite the long-sleeved T-shirt you wore, a chill was beginning to nip at your skin, and you slowed to wrap a blanket around your shoulders. 

       “I know, the weight of the snow must have taken out the electrical box or something!” His voice was getting closer; he must have been making his way towards you in return. 

       Passing through the towering bookshelves, you made it out and turned a corner onto the main path they created. A shadow of a figure stood inches from your face. 

       “Shit!” You flinched back, kicking a leg out blindly in self-defense. The tip of your snow boot struck something hard, and a strangled groan escaped the person as they dropped to the floor. Now level with the light of your flashlight, the person was finally visible–Oikawa hugged his shin to his chest with clenched eyes and gritted teeth. 

       “Ow, ow, ow, owie!” 

       You winced, your guilt growing worse after realizing he had just been searching for you. 

       “Oh, sorry,” you cringed, dropping the blankets and hovering your hands over his coiled form. You wanted to help, you just weren’t sure how. “Do you… do you want some ice for that?”

       The glare he threw you chilled you to the bone more than the weather outside.

       “C’mon,” you hid a snigger behind your hand, straightening up and offering him the other, “it was just a joke. I really am sorry. Let’s get back to the front desk; I’ll help you.”

       The huff he released ruffled the bangs on his forehead. “I should make you kiss it better,” he pouted, hand latching onto yours and pulling himself up. He almost yanked you down with him, but you’d stationed a hand on one of the shelves for support the second you felt his whole weight. You hadn’t expected it, but you supposed you should have guessed it–Oikawa’s body was packed with muscle from years of playing volleyball. 

       Even now, as the main setter of your school’s team, he had daily workouts that only made his body stronger. You’d passed him once during a warm autumn day; he was jogging around campus shirtless while you were on your way back to the dorms after just getting out of class. He was headed straight for you, and during that time, everything seemed to move in slow motion. 

       One, two, three… eight, you’d counted, eyes raking down his chest. The sweat glistened on his bare skin, bathing him in a glowing sheen due to the midday sun. A narrow waist trailed down, down to volleyball shorts hanging slanted on his hips. A smug snicker drew your gaze up, past a broad chest and shoulders and onto Oikawa’s simpering face.

       “Like what you see?” his lips mouthed, but you couldn’t hear over the pounding in your ears, blood rushing to your face. 

       “You’re disgusting” were the only words you could think to say, though they were the exact opposite of how you felt. Maybe you were actually speaking to yourself, ashamed at the way your body reacted to a man you hated with your entire mind. Nonetheless, his face fell in shock, and you brushed past him, ignoring how he’d stopped dead in his tracks and continuing back to your dorm. 

       The view from that day was still imprinted in your mind, as though somehow your mind was afraid of forgetting it. Forgetting him. 

       But you would never forget how much you despised his attitude. 

       You released his hand as quickly as you’d grabbed it, reaching back down and gathering the blankets off the floor. A red flush took over your cheeks, and for the first time you were glad the electricity had gone out. Maybe the rest of your body was beginning to freeze, but your face was completely warm. 

       “I’m not kissing anything, perv.”

       You tried to leave him stranded behind you, moving forward to return to the front desk through the darkness, but his longer strides easily caught up with you aside from a small limp. 

       “The night is still young, YN.”

       Instead of a proper response, you settled for a scoff, avoiding the gaze you knew was locked on your face. An amused hum escaped the man beside you, but you blocked it out. 

       Finally back at the front desk, you spared another look outside. The sun had set completely now, a dark blue hue now in the sky as more and more snow collected against the glass. It seemed the warmth of the room had been sucked away completely, leaving behind a stale, frigid atmosphere that dried up the back of your throat.

       “The blankets will certainly help,” Oikawa broke the silence behind you, “but we’ll need more than that. I snagged what I could from the backroom, some water bottles left in the fridge or so, but we need food.” When you shifted to face him, he nodded his head toward the vending machine next to the restrooms. 

       “You want to break into the vending machine?” you deadpanned. 

       “Unless you’ve got generous amounts of cash, of course,” he smiled sarcastically. 

       “Maybe we should wait until morning before we start committing crimes.”

       Oikawa shrugged. “Desperate times, YN.”

       “We’re not that desperate.”

       “Not yet.” He eyed the cloud of air his words left, releasing a larger, experimental breath and watching the fog that hung in the air afterward. 

       The sight made your stomach clench a little. If the cold from the outside had seeped in that quickly, you had a feeling three measly blankets weren’t going to last the two of you through the night. A wave of goosebumps ran along your skin when you thought about the cold too much. 

       You swallowed. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. We just have to make it till morning.” The strain in your arms from holding onto the blankets too long finally drew your attention back to them, and you busied yourself with arranging the throws on the floor. You handed one to Oikawa, saving one for yourself before spreading the last on the floor behind the front desk. 

       The rough carpet floor was less unforgiving when covered with a blanket, but you knew that in a matter of minutes your backside would be numb either way. Oikawa snagged the water bottles off the counter and passed them down to you before settling on the floor himself, a distance far too close for your comfort, but the heat he was giving off silenced any of your complaints. 

       Then it was too quiet. You cracked open a water bottle and took a sip, then you opened it again and took another sip. All the while, you saw Oikawa watch you in your peripheral vision, and when his staring came to be too much, you scrambled for your phone. 

       “Shit.”

       “What?”

       You patted your hands down your legging pockets once more, then along the ground. You flapped around your blanket, hoping to hear a weight thump against the floor, but there was nothing. 

       “My phone’s missing.”

       “When did you-”

       “Dammit, I left it on the ground after kicking you!”

       “Hey,” Oikawa screeched, offended. “You say that like it was my fault!”

       “Well,” you rose to your feet, Oikawa following suit, “you were the one who scared the shit out of me!”

       “Didn’t you know I was looking for you?” He followed you down the main walkway through the shelves, his presence inches from your back.

       “Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to materialize right in front of my face!” In effort to escape his suffocating presence, you quickened your pace, eyes on the ground but not really seeing anything.

       “Oh, I’m sorry, my bad. Next time you go missing during a snowstorm, I’ll be sure to wear a bell so you know exactly where I am at all times.”

       “That’s not what-”

       Crack.

       The both of you froze in place, argument out of mind in an instant. 

       “Was that…?”

       “Uh oh.”

       You both directed your attention to underneath your foot, where an object lay cracked from your aggressive stomping. 

       Dropping your face into your hands, you let out a loud groan. “Could this day get any worse?”

       Oikawa had squatted down to investigate, nudging your leg out of the way before picking up your cracked phone. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it was useless anyway.” He tapped and poked at the screen, toying with the buttons. “Looks like it was out of battery.”

       “Fuckkkkk.” You tore it from his hands, performing your own investigations of pats and brushes along the screen before calling it quits. “Isn’t yours out too?”

       Solemnly, he nodded, taking his phone out and allowing you to tap around on it before throwing it back in his pocket.

       “So we’re fucked?”

       “Majorly.”

       The pair of you slumped back to the main desk, flopping onto the ground and wrapping back up in your blankets. A shiver of cold mixed with frustration had taken over your body in a short span of time, causing your breaths to escape with slight chatters of your teeth. 

       You could feel it now, on the tips of your fingers and the end of your nose. A chill seeped through your leggings and slid up your shirt sleeves, sinking into every pore and leaving your hair standing on end. Your muscles began that all-too familiar buzz, a slow but steady trembling in effort to get your blood moving. Your toes curled in your boots. 

       “It’s cold,” you commented, the words slipping out like an afterthought. 

       You thought he’d agree, hum, or even nod his head. Instead, Oikawa scooted closer to you on the blanket, enough that his upper arm brushed the end of your shoulder. Then, slowly, as though approaching a wounded animal, his arm rose and wrapped around you, not only covering you with his heat but also with his blanket, still soaked in the warmth from his body. 

       Mind blank, you didn’t move a muscle for what seemed to be five minutes after he’d moved to embrace you. 

       “Is this okay?” he’d whispered into the silence, voice soft yet hesitant. 

       “W-why?”

       “You said you were cold.” He shifted a little, but didn’t move away. And surprisingly enough, you didn’t want him to. “I–didn’t want you to be cold.”

       A blanket of silence falls over the two of you, an atmosphere of peace you never thought you’d experience with the brunette man in your life. His warmth left you in a sort of lethargic trance; you didn’t want to move away, though your mind was urging you to, nor did you have the energy to. For the first time, you wanted Oikawa close to you, and you didn’t want him to leave for a while.

       You were exhausted.

       Formerly, the two of you were both leaning back against the wall. Now, tucked into Oikawa’s side, your right arm pressed into the side of his chest while your left was cushioned a distance from the wall by Oikawa’s arm, wrapped sturdily around your shoulders and urging you to lean toward him instead. 

       Man, you were tired. 

       “YN?”

       “Hmm?” Your eyes cracked back open, and you shifted your gaze to him, waiting. 

       His head was leaned back against the wall, eyes still closed as a single brown tuft of hair fell across his forehead. In the light the moon reflected off the snow, you could see the length of his lashes brushing the apples of his cheeks, the sharp edge of his jawline that you yearned to run a finger along. He didn’t bother to look at you for a response when he muttered, “Why do you hate me?”

       The question zapped you to attention like a taser, guilt flooding your chest for a reason you didn’t quite think you knew. There was a strong urge in you to pull away from him, but the hand on your arm tightened, halting any drastic movements.

       “I… I don’t…”

       “I know you do,” he sighed, tongue running out along his lips. “Please, just tell me.” There was a sort of surrender in his voice you never thought you’d hear. For a second, you missed his smug tone. You missed the teasing lilt of his voice. You missed the Oikawa you knew. 

       You wanted him back. 

       “You’re weirding me out, Oikawa.” In this position, you couldn’t poke him in the cheek, so you settled for his thigh. He barely flinched, peeking a single eye open. “Go back to acting like that smug little shit I know you are.” His lips quirked up.

       “I promise I’m still me, YN. I’m just a bit curious is all.”

       “Yeah, well, it’s freaking me out. I want the normal you back.”

       Wrong words.

       “You do?” He was wide awake at that, head straightened up and eyes wide and at attention. If he was a dog, his tail would be wagging. 

       “Nevermind.” You twisted in his grip to get your back facing him. 

       “No, no, noooo.” Both of his hands grabbed onto your shoulders, shaking you back and forth. “Say it again. Say you want me again.”

       “God, you’re such a perv,” you stutter, voice wavering with his movements.

       “You’re so mean, YN!” he whines, finally releasing your shoulders. You think he’s given up and let down your guard slightly, a little curious at his expression. But when you turn your head to face him, two arms wrap around your waist, yanking you back and in between Oikawa’s outstretched legs. 

       “What the-” While you struggle in his arms, Oikawa only holds you closer, leaning back and taking you with him so your back rests against his front. He hooks his head over your shoulder, and you tense when you feel a breath of warm air against your ear. 

       A shiver tears through your body, but you’re relieved he doesn’t comment on it. 

       “Say it again, YN.” And he definitely feels the shiver that time. A breathless snicker heats up the skin of your neck, but you’re too trapped in his arms to escape the overwhelming feeling it erupts in you. 

       “God, I hate you,” you sigh instinctively. 

       Oikawa grows still. The fun and games are over, it seems, as he pulls his head away from your neck. The arms encircling your waist have become rigid. 

       There’s a thump against the wall. Then a pause. “Why?”

       You bite your lip, and though the words are on the tip of your tongue, you can’t seem to force them out. You’re ashamed, embarrassed, regretful. All of those ugly feelings he pulls out of you every other day, you draw out of yourself in this moment. 

       “Oikawa, I-”

       “Tooru,” he corrects.

       Flustered, you continue, “Tooru… whenever you… you always just… I never…” You groan at your lack of words, throwing frustrated hands over your face. The heat in your body, though small, rises. “I just feel stupid around you.”

       “Stupid?”

       “Like an idiot.”

       “Idiot?”

       “Yeah.”

       “Yeah?”

       “Stop it.”

       “Sorry,” he pauses, “I just… you think you feel stupid? Around me?”

       You don’t understand what he means, so you stay silent. 

       “So… you feel like an idiot around me… why, exactly?”

       “Because,” you wave your hands around, not really sure what your gestures are doing considering he can’t see them, “you just… you tease me all the time! And when we’re in class and you look at me and I just feel like I’ve got shit all over my face! And when you throw those stupid-ass parties, I feel so lame because it’s not like I don’t want to socialize, but I hate the way people act at parties! And then you come along and tell me that I should join, but I know it’s gonna fucking suck and I know you’re gonna see that I stick out during parties like a sore thumb and that makes me feel even worse and I-”

       “YN!” A hand slips from your waist, slapping over your mouth and effectively cutting off your rambling. A disbelieved breath sounds behind you. “Jesus Christ, YN.”

       And you feel like even more of an idiot. You take some pleasure in the fact that he can’t see you as tears begin springing in the corners of your eyes. 

       But then there’s a hard pressure against the back of your head. And then something soft against the back of your neck. “YN, YN, YN,” and you realize his lips are on your neck, his face buried into your hair, “God, you just… you drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

       You didn’t know that.

       “The fact that you can say all of that, and think all of that, and feel all of that, without realizing why I even do it at all drives me insane.” You feel his mouth move against you with every word, your skin growing hot under his breath. You try to speak against his hand, and thankfully he pulls it away when you do, returning it to your waist as though it doesn’t muddle your mind. 

       “What are you talking about?” 

       And he laughs like it’s the dumbest question in the world. And maybe it is, but you have to know. 

       His lips are on your neck one last time before he pulls away, leaning back against the wall once more and taking you with him. “YN,” his fingers twitch against your skin, the cold of them biting through the fabric of your shirt, “do you have feelings for me?”

       And you feel like the biggest idiot of all, because you do. 

       You do have feelings for him, and you only just realized that now. 

       “Holy shit.” 

       Oikawa stiffens. “What?”

       “I have feelings for you.” The words slip out before you can stop them, mostly because you’re still in disbelief. Did you really? After all this time of thinking you hated him, of hating how he teased you, you seriously had feelings for him and you didn’t even notice?

       Stupid. So very stupid. 

       A loud scoff from Oikawa breaks you out of your stupor. 

       “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna drive me nuts.”

       And you can’t even turn around and call him an asshole because he’s turning you in his grip and pressing his lips against yours. The hand on your chin, the other on your hip, all to pull you closer, spin you around and tug you onto his lap without separating from you. 

       Your hands are in his hair, and you’re tugging, and it’s that whine you always hear whenever you don’t respond to his teasing, that needy one you thought you always hated because it just shakes you to your core but now you get it, you finally understand it. And those long fingers, the ones he always slams onto your notes drunkenly whenever he’s having a party and you’re not there but you forgot to lock your door so now he’s in your room and he’s bothering you, begging you and toying with you to get your attention, those fingers that have stolen your notebook away and held over your head while he smiles and stubbles around, getting you to chase him–they’re on your hips and you know they’re leaving bruises and you like that they’re leaving bruises. 

       You like it all because it’s so cold tonight and he’s so warm and he’s always so warm and you want more, more, more. 

       And he hovers over you, and you gasp. You hate how he teases you because he loves it so much, and that makes you love it. You love it. 

       It is cold tonight. There’s a blizzard raging right outside the doors to the library, stacking up snow higher and higher. You’re both trapped, but you don’t want to leave. Because despite all of the cold, you’re both very, very warm. 

                               ~~~

       The next morning, when people find the two of you, they blame it on that little notion that runs through everyone’s minds when people are stuck together during a cold blizzard, because surely that’s what it must be. 

       And surely that’s why your cheeks are flushed and full of embarrassment, because although everybody knows how weird it can be, during such a life-threatening situation, it’s a desperate attempt to stay warm.

       So when they found you the next morning, thankfully safe and sound and wrapped around each other to try and preserve warmth, they were glad that you two innocent, poor little students, who must have been so scared to be trapped in a building without electricity and heat, were going to be okay, and that they could safely escort you out of the building and back to your dormitories with an official apology. 

       Until one of you asked if they could leave so you could finish what you’d started. 

       “Tooru, you fucking pervert!”

Happy Birthday | Tōru Oikawa x Reader

Of course, I had to upload something for Tōru’s birthday

Masterlist

Summary: Your son surprises Tōru.

I named the child kai because it bothers me to put s/n or c/n

When your son told you about his idea to surprise Tōru for his birthday you instantly encouraged him to do so. You knew his surprise would make your husband very happy.

You didn’t know a bit of Japanese and you couldn’t trust the internet translator either, so you ended up asking Oikawa’s friends for help.

For weeks you and your son were zoom with Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki. The trio was in charge of teaching Kai how to pronounce the words that she wanted to dedicate to her father.

You were really grateful to the three of them for taking the time to be able to help them and for having the patience to teach Kai. Then you will be in charge of sending them alfajores and dulce de leche as a thank you.

Tōru’s birthday had finally arrived and you could feel your little one’s nerves because he was too quiet while he helped you prepare breakfast for the birthday boy.

“You don’t have to be nervous, Kai” you tousled it affectionately “You practiced a lot so it will be fine”

After that, the two of them headed up to your bedroom. You smiled when you saw your husband, even sleeping he looked beautiful.

“Tōru” you called him and placed the tray carefully on the night table “Tōru” you pricked his cheek.

“Mmm”

“Happy birthday, Tōru”

When Oikawa opened his eyes he met your smile. He pulled his hand out from under the covers to take yours and pull your body with him into the house, making you laugh. It was music to his ears. A very good way to start his birthday.

“Come on Kai, don’t you want to say hi to your dad?” You called him when you saw him stay at the door.

The boy took a step forward and looked at his hands before looking at you two.

“Happy birthday, dad” you nodded with a smile making the little one feel more confident “You are the best! I love you!”

Tōru started crying when he heard his son speak in Japanese. Of course, Kai didn’t have a perfect pronunciation but he didn’t care about that, it meant a lot to him that his son will take the time to learn those words in his native language.

You weren’t surprised to see your husband with tears in his eyes. You knew he regretted not having enough time to teach him Japanese so at this moment he will treasure it forever.

“Did I say it wrong? Didn’t you like it?” Kai asked nervously thinking that that was the reason for Oikawa’s tears.

“No, no, no, you did it perfectly” he said as he awkwardly got up from the bed and ran to hug him “Thank you very much”

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