Chapter Text
day 300
“Can I take the blindfolds off now?”
Oikawa grins a toothy little grin, untying the knot of the sash around your head before stepping forward, motioning to the brick wall sitting in the empty field like some kind of magician presenting the prestige of his final magic trick.
“Ta-da!”
You squint at the wall, unsure if you’re missing something, wondering if this is some kind of practical joke, and your smile slowly begins to fade as you assess the utter look of pride and satisfaction written all over Oikawa’s face because, holy shit, this is not a joke -- he's being totally serious.
“You…got me a wall?”
He nods. “Yep.”
You look around the empty field one more time to check if you’re missing something, to make sure this isn't a prank that’s outstayed its welcome, but there’s no punchline and no gotcha moment, and when you look up to meet his gaze, you realize he’s waiting for you to react.
Shit.
Fuck.
Shit.
For a moment, he catches you off kilter: his skin has a nice coat of sweat, his shirt is sticking fast to his chest, and it's almost too obvious he’s just stepped off a volleyball court.
It’s the reason why he was late in the first place, the reason why he’s trying to make up for it now, and the reason why you won’t buy it as you clench your fists and lower your gaze to the ground, trying to muster up the proper words to explain why this is so fucked.
When the silence stretches too long, Oikawa ushers you towards the brick wall, not at all sensing the tension that sits between you two. “Think of it as a canvas,” he chimes, hands lingering a moment too long on your shoulders to be accidental. “You like drawing, don’t you?”
And then it dawns on you, suddenly, that this is supposed to be some romantic gesture. But it’s too late and your patience is running on empty and there's no turning back now. “You’re ridiculous,” you mutter under your breath, and you can tell it’s not the answer he expects because that stupid smile of his vanishes in an instant and he’s staring at you like you’ve just told him his puppy died.
“C’mon, Sawa-chan. Your grandfather was the one who said you had talent. And that has to mean something, right?"
You open your mouth to interject, but you bite back the insult that’s hanging loose on the tip of your tongue. If you’re not careful, you’ll surely say something you don’t mean, something you can’t take back. “Don’t…talk to me about what he said,” you seethe, turning and making your way down the fields of grain. “Don’t mention him to me again.”
It doesn’t take Oikawa more than a few steps to catch up. “Oi,” he says, voice low and steady as he grabs you roughly by the shoulder. “What the hell is your problem?”
“My problem? What the fuck is your problem,” you seethe, shaking off his hand from your shoulder like it’s a shitstain holding you back. “I didn’t even want to get into this but why the hell would you bring my grandfather up? If you want to make a stupid romantic gesture, then make it -- but don’t mention my family because it's convenient for you."
Oikawa frowns, taking a step toward you only for you to take a step back away. “You can’t hold a grudge forever, Sawa-chan. He didn’t do anything wrong. He cares about you.”
“STOP. Please. Just stop.” You’re on the verge of spilling profanities, spilling words you mean in earnest that might just push him away forever, and you’re trying desperately not to look down and let the tears spill because then you’ll know you’re not the only one here who’s done something wrong. “I…I can't do this right now."
But he catches your tears and if there’s anything he’s unequipped to handle, it’s a girl on the verge of a breakdown: the same sad little story – the girl who cries and the boy who runs away at the first sight of conflict.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you whisper, and it takes him a moment to truly digest what you say, what you actually mean, because the last thing he expects is a break-up. "I don't...I don't want to do this." You're babbling, repeating yourself, acting completely unlike yourself.
Before he gets to truly comprehend the reality of this situation, you turn your heel and start running downfield towards the main road.
Oikawa takes one last look at the wall before bolting after you.
His knees are going to give out from the sheer pain, but he grits his teeth, irritation pulsing through his veins, until he catches up to you, his fingers just out of reach from your shirt. Maybe it’s the pang of disappointment, or the fact that you won’t spare half a glance at the gift he’s spent months saving up for -- or maybe he’s just projecting because of his bum knee and the fact that this might mean the end of his volleyball career for good. He doesn’t know, and at this rate, he doesn’t care anymore.
You sense him coming up behind you, but before you can react accordingly, he grabs you by the wrist and stops you roughly in your tracks. “I’m ridiculous?” He snaps, leaning down to meet your gaze close. “You’re ridiculous!”
Completely thrown off by his sudden change in demeanor, you wince. “What’re you—”
“Why the hell are you still beating yourself up over something out of your control?” He seethes, poison hanging thick from every word. “You’re just wasting your talent, you idiot. Don’t you have dreams? Aspirations? Ambitions? Don’t you have something you want to pursue?"
He knows he’s fucked up because that look of contempt fades into something of sheer horror on your face, but he’s in too deep and there’s no backing up now that the truths are spilling. “Those stupid video games you play? Math team? Are those really the only things you care about? What the hell do you dream about, huh?” Both his hands come to your shoulders and he’s grasping you so tight it hurts. “Tell me!”
You wrangle yourself out of his grip, still staring at him like he’s a monster you don't recognize anymore. By the time you turn away, he already knows he’s unloaded a mountain of words he’ll never be able to take back.
He watches you run as fast as you can, as far as you can, never turning to look back, until you’re out of reach -- too far to catch.
This time, he decides, he won’t chase after you anymore.
day 1
Things weren’t always so complicated, but Oikawa can pinpoint it to the day he meets you -- you, with your pretty pink skirt, your button-up -- standing in a sea of yellow sweater-vests and white blazers outside the gates of Aobajosai High.
He stares at you -- your eyes are startlingly green, your hair auburn red -- and wonders where you’re from, if you’re new around here, and if you know the dress code or if you’re willingly choosing to ignore it.
“Cute,” he says casually, turning away because there are other girls just like you and because there are other matters on his mind outside of you; contrary to belief, he’s not all fangirls and vapid jokes at Iwaizumi’s expense.
Iwaizumi, of course, who happens to be yawning as he makes his way towards the gate, where a crowd has gathered. “She looks like a city girl."
Watari is the next to join them. “That’s Sawari-san. She just transferred from Shiratorizawa last week. She’s in my English class.” He beams, waving to you, only to blanche when you completely miss him in the crowd. “She’s really smart.”
“Can’t be that smart if she transferred from Shiratorizawa,” Oikawa chimes, realizing that that’s probably why you look so out of place.
Iwaizumi flicks him on the forehead, eliciting a scowl and a whine. “Why the hell are you talking shit about someone you don’t even know.”
“I’m not!” He protests, frowning. “I’m just -- well, she kind of looks like my type, right?”
This earns him a smack in the back of the head, which makes Watari laugh out loud.
You catch his gaze and blink, making a B-line towards him, pushing this way and that through the horde of students until you reach the space before him. “Oikawa-san?” You say, and your voice is steady and sweet, not too high, not too deep, just calming.
He greets you with a mock-salute. “Yo.”
You reach into your backpack -- and it’s a nice backpack, from what he can see: it looks expensive, probably some designer brand -- and pull out an envelope to hand him.
“Fan mail?” He quips, grinning.
“A letter from the dean’s office,” you state, plainly, voice utterly bereaved of any humor and joy. “You’ve been suspended from all extracurricular activities for two weeks.”
Iwaizumi blinks, squinting at you, “What do you mean suspended?”
“It seems like Oikawa-san failed his calculus final,” you answer stiffly, sizing up the very tall and very broad brunette standing before you like he’s some unremarkable dummy getting in your way. “Honestly, you’re lucky he wasn’t suspended for a whole month.”
Watari laughs nervously, “Sawari-san, shouldn’t you have told him somewhere…private?”
“His grades are posted publicly, aren’t they?” You say, looking over the papers. “Not like it’s a big secret around here. Anyone with half a brain can see he’s consistently ranked last in math.”
Point taken.
Oikawa frowns, staring at the dean’s notice in absolute disbelief, trying to read between the lines to see if there’s something he’s missing, but you’re right -- of course you’re right -- and by the time he looks up to ask you why you were sent to deliver the news, you’re already gone from sight, vanishing into the crowd of students gathered at the gate.
“Yeesh,” Iwaizumi frowns. “What’s her problem?”
Watari laughs nervously, trying not to look too frazzled as he makes his way down the steps of the entrance. “That’s Sawari-san for you. She’s really serious. She joined the math team her first day here.”
“No wonder she’s on Suda-sensei’s good side,” Iwaizumi tacks on tartly.
Oikawa tucks the envelope into his backpack -- he’ll deal with this crap later -- and starts on the pathway towards the gymnasium, which sits tucked behind the main building. “Why did she even bother transferring?” Naturally, he's wondering how he’s going to break the news to coach Irihata. “Should’ve stayed at Shiratorizawa, as far as I’m concerned.”
Watari purses his lips and tugs on the strap of his satchel bag. “I think she mentioned she wanted to be closer to her family.”
How boring. Oikawa hums a little tune, making his way down the field while Iwaizumi and Watari follow from behind. “Hm. Maybe we’ll keep this a secret for now, just between the three of us,” he sings and winks. “Just until I talk to Suda-sensei about how I can…lessen the severity of my suspension.”
Iwaizumi just looks at him with disdain. “You really are a dumbass.”
day 5
It works.
It actually freaking works.
With a little bit of sweet talk, a little bit of flattery, and a little bit of concerted effort to look like failing has actually made a dent on his conscience, Oikawa manages to weasel himself back into volleyball practice.
It takes some bargaining, of course, with Suda-sensei, and an allotted expectation that he needs to pass his next test with flying colors: he’ll be assigned a tutor, he’ll be assigned extra credit, and he’ll be assigned a bigger workload for practice, and Oikawa knows better than anyone that practice makes perfect—but enough about that later.
Because the grand freaking king has actually managed to weasel his way back into volleyball, which is a feat in and of itself. It’s the con of a lifetime and he’s not looking back. Nope, never.
He sprints up and down the floors of the freshly waxed volleyball court, relishing the smell, the sound of sneakers squealing across floorboards, and the groans of irritation as Irihata-sensei calls for them to do another lap.
“Can’t believe you actually got away with it,” says Iwaizumi, handing him a towel after their warm-ups come to an end. “What the hell did you even say that made someone like Suda-sensei change his mind?”
Oikawa winks, taking the towel and dabbing away the beads of sweat from his neck as he faces the open court, taking it all in. “That’s a secret, Iwa-chan.” He beams, loving every moment because there’s nothing better than endorphins and the secret of knowing that he’s gotten away with something he shouldn't have.
At that very moment, the gym doors screech open, and there you are, standing in the doorway, staring right back at him with a frown on your face.
Everything goes silent as you stride towards him, your thigh-high boots clicking against the floorboards smoothly -- hey, that’s weird, he quite likes the sound of it -- while your trench coat sways gently behind you. Every member of the team is watching you, waiting, and Oikawa realizes that Iwaizumi is absolutely right: you look like a city girl through and through, but maybe more importantly, you like someone who doesn’t belong here at all.
He smiles. “Sawa-chan, what a nice surprise.”
“Wish I could say the same,” you deadpan, crossing your arms when you meet him. “I’m your new calculus tutor. Your first session begins tomorrow in the library.” You cock your head to the side, as if assessing to see if you’re missing something. “And one more thing, stop calling me Sawa-chan.”
day 8
Oikawa is many things: he’s handsome, flirtatious, analytical, keen, athletic—
“Are you serious? We’ve been over this equation four times,” you snap, leaning back in your chair and massaging your temples because this is actually giving you a full-blown headache. “Are you really as vapid as you look?”
Well, looks can be deceiving and he would know that better than anybody. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think Sawa-chan?” He pouts, looking at you from across the table with wide puppy dog eyes, hoping you'll go easy on him.
At the sound of the nickname, you frown. “At this rate, you’re going to fail the whole class. Don’t you care about the future?”
Of course I do, he wants to say, more than you would know.
He’s been banking on his future since the day he picked up his first volleyball, though it’s probably not the kind of future you’d expect. But he figures someone like you wouldn’t understand either—you’re a city girl, what would you know about small towns and sacrifice? From what he could surmise, you’re probably somewhat of a brainiac. The life of an athlete is something that’ll go completely over your head. So not worth his breath.
So he puts on another smile and pleads with you to explain it one more time and for what it's worth, you don’t buy it, studying his face from the across the table with your arms crossed like he’s a puzzle you can’t quite put your finger on. “If you’re not going to listen, what’s the point? You’re just wasting both our times.”
He pouts, “Please, Sawa-chan?”
You’re still staring at him, watching him, and there’s something ticking away in your mind that comes to an abrupt halt that he doesn’t expect. Suddenly, you sit up, picking up your pencil from the table and pointing to the equation on the page. “Listen up so I don’t have to repeat myself, alright?”
“I will, Sawa-chan.”
You sigh. “And please stop calling me that.”
day 9
“Do you get it?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Sawa-chan!”
…
“Really.”
“Um. Maybe just one more time then?”
day 10
After another thrilling study session, Oikawa has come to two conclusions: 1) You are definitely not his type, what with your many faces of irritation every time he asks about Shiratorizawa and that look of perpetual boredom on your face when you have to explain something twice because he's wasting your time -- as if you have anywhere better to be. 2) You're definitely hiding something.
As he makes his way towards his locker, he catches sight of three girls lounging in front of it. One of them blushes and bolts in the other direction while the other two giggle and follow suit, throwing him glances that he catches with ease. Behind him, you’re observing with your head cocked, until he comes to a full halt in front of his locker, spinning the designated code.
“You sure have a lot of fans,” you tell him, somewhat miffed by the number of cards and presents sitting inside the doors when he opens it. “How do they know your locker combination anyway?”
“Hold this for me.” It takes him a moment to shuffle through all the trinkets and gifts before he unearths what he's looking for. “Someone must’ve leaked it, but I think it’s pretty neat.” He bestows you with a single chocolate wrapped in pink tissue paper. “It’s like having a surprise waiting for you every morning.”
You accept the chocolate, somewhat hesitantly, studying it like you’re studying for poisons. “Doesn’t it get overwhelming?”
“I’m grateful for all my fans.” It’s practiced and true, and he has the whole diatribe down to a pat. “What’s there to be upset about?”
Still, you’re cradling all these trinkets and wondering if he actually gets to put any of these things to good use. But it really does look like he doesn’t mind, as he pulls out a small black case—a pair of glasses.
You blink. “You wear glasses?”
As he takes back the gifts you’re holding, he frowns because it sounds like you’re insulting him. “Contacts, usually. But my eyes are tired today. What’s with the tone, anyway? You got something to say?”
“No, not really,” you answer rather simply. “You should wear them more often. They look nice on you.”
day 11
Oikawa is definitely no slouch when it comes to picking up new concepts, but his attention span leaves something to be desired.
You wave your hand emphatically in front of his face, which snaps him back into reality, a reality…of practice sets. Ugh. “Jeez,” you mumble, pointing your pencil at the next equation. “Do you only think about volleyball?”
“What makes you think I’m thinking about volleyball?” He shoots back, somewhat defensively because you’re the one being defensive and rude and he doesn’t know how to back down first without looking weak. “For your information, I’m thinking about my date tonight.”
“So, two things. Girls and volleyball.”
He knits his brow, which elicits a laugh from you. It’s the first time he’s seen you laugh and the sound of it is enough to jolt him out of his irritation. You look pretty, he thinks, when you laugh, prettier than you probably know or care for. It takes him another moment to realize that you’re actually teasing him, that for once, you’re not looking at him with utter contempt and annoyance.
You’re wearing their school uniform today. It suits you, but he thinks pink might suit you better. Everything about you is pressed and manicured, from your white button-up to the tie around your neck.
City girl might not do you justice.
*
The sun’s already setting low when you and Oikawa depart from school. There’s some silence, some awkward pauses, and he’s not really sure how to strike a conversation with you that doesn’t feel contrived or forced. Without math in the equation, he’s coming up empty.
You tug on the straps of your backpack. “Are you free Monday for review before your retake?”
“Ah. Actually, Monday’s no good for me Sawa-chan.” He makes a little ‘x’ with his index fingers for extra emphasis. “I have plans.”
At the sound of the nickname, you frown again, but decide it’s not a battle worth pursuing, not at this rate anyway. “Your retake is Tuesday. Are you sure you can afford skipping review?”
He pauses, thinks it over, and assesses his remaining options. Truth is, he’s supposed to hang out with his nephew, Takeru, but he also can’t afford to fail. No, worse than that, he needs to pass with flying colors. And if he doesn’t, he might just be suspended from all after-school activities until he graduates.
So after some mulling, some consideration, and after watching you writhe in discomfort, waiting for an answer, he decides to say: “Fine. But we’ll have to meet somewhere else.”
“What do you mean?”
“I already have plans,” he explains, slowly, like he has all the patience of a holy saint. “It’d be rude to cancel last minute."
You frown again, stopping short at the gates of the school to meet his gaze. “You’re not going to make me third wheel your date, are you?”
When he fully manages to digest your words, he bursts out in laughter, holding onto the bars of the gate, keeling over because he’s trying to catch his breath and stop the tears from escaping. Somewhat miffed by his reaction, you blush -- you actually blush -- and he almost misses it because he’s laughing so hard his abs are aching.
When he finally regains his composure, he wipes away a tear that’s managed to escape the corner of his eye and tries to look your way to see if you're still blushing. “Not those kinds of plans. What kind of person do you think I am, Sawa-chan?”
You smile, opening your mouth to snap back with something snarky, but—
“Oi! Oikawa!”
Turning around, you catch sight of the volleyball team heading out the gymnasium in a sea of teal and white. From what you can surmise, they’ve just finished practice; leading the way is Iwaizumi, and next to him, Watari and Kindaichi. It doesn’t take them long to congregate around you, and suddenly, you’re very aware how out of place you are among them.
Oikawa grins. “You haven’t taken over my role have you, Iwa-chan~?”
“Idiot. How was your tutoring session?”
“Good, thanks to—” He turns to include you in the conversation, only to realize that you’ve already vanished from sight. “Oh.” He elbows past Watari towards the gate, where he sees the back of your coat, swaying in the wind.
As if you have two eyes on the back of your head, you turn around, wave at him, and smile before taking your leave.
*
sawa-chan: if you have any questions
sawa-chan: let me know
sawa-chan: i think if we just review before the exam
sawa-chan: you’ll do well
sawa-chan: have fun on your date tonight
oikawa: wow
oikawa: sawa-chan
oikawa: you’re so much nicer over text
sawa-chan: -_-
Kaede, a cute second-year, is waiting for Oikawa at the entrance to the open marketplace by the bay. She’s pinned back her long black hair, she's wearing makeup and perfume that smells like flowers. Her skirt is pink and he notices it looks somewhat like the skirt you had been wearing the first day he met you.
A smile forms on her face when she catches sight of him. He shakes the thought off. “You look really cute, Kaede-chan,” he tells her, grinning, and when she blushes, he truly believes it.
Girls are always prettiest when they smile.
“You…look really nice too, Oikawa-kun.”
He takes her hand in his and her blush deepens as he leads her down the pathway and towards the stalls of food. “I’ve been wanting to come here a long time,” he says. “With you, of course.”
Kaede shifts her gaze from the bay to him. “Really?” Her eyes are full of wonder.
He smiles. “Really.”
He means it.
day 14
Monday comes fast and Oikawa forces himself out of bed early to practice at the gym. He needs to stay in tip-top shape, which means some good old-fashioned weight training, cardio, and a shower, of course, because there’s nothing worse than smelling like crap the whole day.
The sky’s barely lit when he steps outside -- he plugs in his ear buds as he fishes out his bicycle from the garage, leading it to the main road.
Once he has his bearings, he starts down the street, taking one step on the pedal before swinging the other over the other side, zipping through with the wind flying through like a whistle.
*
He’s halfway to school when he catches sight of the local bus groaning to a full stop on the hilltop.
From the backdoor you emerge, your hair pulled up in a bun, pink ear buds plugged into your ears. You’re carrying a cup of coffee, looking very tired and sleepy, and an unwitting smile blooms on his face when he sees that you haven’t noticed him at all.
He rides straight past you while you stop to sip your coffee. “Sawa-chan~!”
Naturally, you shriek at the sound of his voice, dropping your coffee to the floor with a heavy splat. Almost instantly, that look of exhaustion fades into one of irritation -- that is, until you meet his gaze and unplug your ear buds. “Oikawa-san? What’re you doing up so early?” You say, all but forgetting the spilt coffee on the ground beneath your feet.
“Practice, duh.” He sticks his tongue out, coming to a full stop. “And you?”
“Math…team,” you answer rather lamely. “Suda-sensei is a morning person and everyone else has after school clubs to attend.”
“Ah.” For whatever reason, he finds this tidbit of information far more entertaining than he’d like to admit and wonders why you're not part of any after school clubs. “Do you need a ride?”
You hesitate, looking around like you're trying to figure out if he has another bike hiding away somewhere, but when he points to the rack behind his seat, you immediately blanche. “I think I’ll walk,” you say, glancing down the road.
“You sure, Sawa-chan?”
Like fate, the wind whips through the air violently, forcing you to shut your eyes from the sting of blistering cold. “Fine,” you say, inching forward and assessing the rack like it's some alien entity you’ve never seen before.
You relent, and take a seat on metal, letting your feet dangle off one side. “That’s cold!” You yelp, tugging on the edge of Oikawa’s blazer for balance.
He laughs. “Hold on tight, Sawa-chan.”
“I—”
Before you get the chance to finish, he kicks off and you nearly lose your balance on the rack, your arms instinctively reaching out to wrap around his waist. You’re pressing your cheek so hard against his back and this feels like a rollercoaster ride because you’re actually scared you might fall and go splat just like you're coffee and he’s going faster, faster, faster—
“Slow down!” You cry out, shutting your eyes tight, but he doesn’t -- of course he doesn’t -- and he makes the most of the downhill momentum he has, feeling the warmth radiate from your skinny little arms.
*
“That wasn’t funny. We could’ve died.”
Oikawa puts his outdoor shoes into his locker and takes out a pair of sneakers reserved for the inside of the school walls only. “Sorry Sawa-chan,” he says and means it because you look more frazzled than he expects and your hands are shaking like you’re actually scared.
He hears the closing of your locker door from the other side and peeks over to see you tying the shoes of your sneakers. “How was your date last night?” You sound tart, almost…annoyed, as you look up to meet his gaze. “You went out with Kaede-chan, right?”
He blinks. “How’d you know?”
“I heard her talking about it in one of my electives,” you answer noncommittally, standing up and taking out your scrunchie, hair spilling over your shoulders like an actual freaking shampoo ad. “Be nice to her, alright? I like her a lot.”
“Oh?” He grins. “I couldn't tell. From the sound of it, you seemed a little jealous.”
He immediately regrets what he says because you're glaring at him like he’s an absolute shitstain and he has to wonder what about what he said sounded so bad, only to realize that he’s probably insinuating something that isn’t true at all. “My bad, Sawa-chan,” he says, quickly. “It was just a joke.”
You just offer him one last look before turning away and departing down the halls of the school. He watches you from behind until you vanish around the bend.
He realizes he's still smiling like a dumbass.
*
Morning practice is unceremoniously lonely as Oikawa showers off the grime on his skin. No one likes morning practice; you’re not special, he thinks, and figures it’d be worth forcing Iwa-chan to join him, not that Iwa-chan would be happy about it. So maybe not such a great idea.
He dries off and slips on his school uniform, leaving the tie undone around his neck. He glances at the clock mounted on the wall and notes with a little smile that he has some time to kill before school starts.
*
He heads to his locker, picking out a box of chocolates from the depths and feasting on it while he meanders through the empty hallways.
There’s commotion from the classroom at the end of the hall and he saunters towards it, glancing through the glass window to see Suda-sensei lecturing at the front of the room filled with mostly boys—and you, Sawa-chan, sitting right by the door. You’re leaning your head against the wall, looking very tired (and he wonders if he didn't make you spill your coffee, would you still look like that?), and scribbling in the open notebook on your desk.
He’s about to make a face to get your attention, but decides against it when he sees what exactly you’re scribbling on paper.
It’s a sketch of a boy, a boy one too familiar.
Narrowed eyes, stern face, sharp jawline, thin lips. It takes him a moment to recognize it, another moment to realize that this is no coincidence, that this is probably some joke the gods must’ve thought was funny—
Because the boy you’re sketching is Ushijima Wakatoshi, the captain of Shiratorizawa’s volleyball team.
