Archive of Our Own

ventura_ventura: no theres no way u do that
kaijuno4: i dont do it now but its nice!
ventura_ventura: how is dipping yr fries in ice cream nice?!
kaijuno4: dont judge when u’ve never tried it before
ventura_ventura: (눈_눈)
ventura_ventura: its so weird!
ventura_ventura: its like i dont even know u!

Iwaizumi smiles around his toothbrush, mouth full of toothpaste as he gets ready for bed. He’s come to learn that his text buddy is a rather expressive person, his responses sometimes bordering on melodrama. Iwaizumi finds it amusing, it’s a much welcomed change of pace from his long and weary university days.

He’s glad to have met the person who goes by ventura_ventura (which he finds out is what people say when trying to make contact with a spaceship — the guy really believes in his aliens), even though they didn’t start off on the right foot. They crossed paths in an online forum for fans of extraterrestrials in media, and when Iwaizumi replied to a thread under the handle kaijuno4 , challenging a comment made by ventura_ventura , the latter not only argued with him but asked, “what are u even doing in this forum, kaijus arent aliens.”

The conversation devolved into a clash of ideas to back up their claims, and eventually they took their discussion to a proper messaging platform, where instead of arguments centred around monsters vs. aliens, they started chatting about other things (like “what are u, 10?” , “im 20, thank u,” and “nothing else to say? are u finally admitting that im right?” , “i was at practice!” ) and the rest is history.

Iwaizumi leaves his toothbrush in his mouth and picks up his phone from the countertop to reply jokingly, “You really don’t know me though.” After all, people only see the version you show them online, although he’s been quite honest himself. The next message comes in almost immediately.

ventura_ventura: how could u say that!
ventura_ventura: we talk to each other sm!
kaijuno4: that just makes us online friends
ventura_ventura: online friends are friends!
ventura_ventura: im hurt, u’re so callous
ventura_ventura: (μ_μ)
ventura_ventura: this is why u dont have other friends
kaijuno4: u’re so dramatic
kaijuno4: fine i take it back
kaijuno4: and i have friends
ventura_ventura: oh really?
ventura_ventura: u always sound like u’re busy studying and have no time for anything else
ventura_ventura: is that why u dont have a girlfriend now?
kaijuno4: just bc im serious about my studies doesnt mean i dont know how to have a life
kaijuno4: and i've never had a girlfriend
ventura_ventura: never ever?
kaijuno4: nope
ventura_ventura: why not?
kaijuno4: i've never had a girlfriend bc im not into girls
kaijuno4: i've had a boyfriend tho

Iwaizumi doesn’t volunteer this bit of information readily, but if it comes up, he’s fine with telling others about it, online friends included. After a couple minutes of radio silence, he’s a tad worried he may have made things uncomfortable (which is also a disappointment if he’s being honest) and is about to follow up with a message to tell his companion to forget about it just as his phone buzzes with a notification.

ventura_ventura: oh
ventura_ventura: thats cool

Somewhere else in Tokyo, Oikawa’s fingers hover hesitantly over the keys. That sounds too lame and disinterested for him to leave it as it is, and it’s a far cry from what he’s actually feeling, which is a rush of hopefulness he’s a little silly for having, because they’re nothing more than online friends and they may not even live in the same city so it’s unlikely for this friendship to become anything more. It’s only a tiny crush.

In any case, he was offered something personal, so Oikawa feels he should at least return the favour. His reply makes Iwaizumi raise his brows in intrigue (besides the obvious flood of relief) as he slides into bed.

ventura_ventura: i like both girls and guys
kaijuno4: u’ve dated both?
ventura_ventura: only girls
ventura_ventura: at that time i wasn’t brave enough to think about dating guys, and now i think im pickier
kaijuno4: picky how?
ventura_ventura: i dont want to date someone just bc, u know?
ventura_ventura: i feel like i’ve wasted enough time doing that
kaijuno4: thats not being picky, at least not to me
ventura_ventura: then i suppose i just havent met someone i want to date yet
kaijuno4: what kind of person do u want to date?
ventura_ventura: hmmmm
ventura_ventura: someone who understands
ventura_ventura: is patient
ventura_ventura: and wouldnt mind giving in to me a little
ventura_ventura: (´• ω •`)
kaijuno4: met someone like that yet?

Oikawa’s flirted with him before, and he’s been teased and flirted back with, but perhaps it’s because of his latest discovery and the fact that he’s got nothing to lose, that compels him to take it a bit further this time.

ventura_ventura: i’ve met u

The implication behind his words isn’t a lie. Through their frequent interactions, whoever is behind kaijuno4 checks all those boxes. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to talk to him and form a connection, and so easy to nurse a tiny crush. Iwaizumi, with his legs tucked under his blanket, lets his lips quirk up in a smile.

kaijuno4: are u saying u’d date me?
ventura_ventura: maybe
kaijuno4: u sure about that?
kaijuno4: u don’t even know what i look like
ventura_ventura: then send me a picture
kaijuno4: haha nice try
kaijuno4: dont ask me to do something u wouldnt do yrself
ventura_ventura: i would, if u asked

Iwaizumi stills, contemplating the offer. He’s surprised he’s asking this, when there’s an unspoken understanding that they don’t ask each other about appearances or where they live or what they do simply because there isn’t a need to. What they have now, it works. It’s an easy relationship, there’s no pressure, no judgement, and there’s no reason to change what has been perfectly fine. It’s not that Iwaizumi isn’t sure of his looks, he thinks he looks decent, but things are okay as they are.

kaijuno4: i wouldnt
ventura_ventura: is it bc u dont want to send one back?
ventura_ventura: oh no, are u ugly?
kaijuno4: i guess u’ll never know
ventura_ventura: fine, keep yr secrets
ventura_ventura: i'll keep mine and its yr loss
kaijuno4: u’re so confident
kaijuno4: ugh are u one of those pretty boys who get all the attention
ventura_ventura: maybe
ventura_ventura: and u’re so mysterious so we both have our charm
kaijuno4: i didnt say yr confidence is charming
ventura_ventura: but i bet u’re thinking it
kaijuno4: im thinking its late and i have to sleep
ventura_ventura: i forget u go to bed at 10pm like an old man
kaijuno4: u forget u’re an athlete and should have a proper sleep schedule
ventura_ventura: yes mother
kaijuno4: call me that again and i'll block u
ventura_ventura: yes…sir
ventura_ventura: ok i’ll stop teasing
ventura_ventura: go to sleep!
kaijuno4: goodnight pretty boy
ventura_ventura: goodnight! ( o˘◡˘o)

Iwaizumi doesn’t know his message has made Oikawa duck behind his phone to hide a smile even though there’s no one in his room to witness his unflattering moment. It’s not the first time it has happened, and it won’t be the last.

“There’s no proof that it has any real benefit to the muscles,” Iwaizumi argues, glaring pointedly at Oikawa Tooru, his classmate in the elective they both take, one of the setters on the university’s volleyball team who’s gained sort of a celebrity status in the school, and a pain in his ass with his opposing views and pompous character.

Ever since Oikawa openly refuted something Iwaizumi said in class, it opened the floodgates of a verbal sword fight, from in-depth discussions to petty arguments. They never seem to agree on anything, and while they both make some solid cases at times, at this point, it’s become a routine to throw out counter-points each time they cross paths. He can’t even call him an academic rival because they don’t share the same major. Iwaizumi decides he’s just here to test his patience.

“There is!” Oikawa insists. Class has already ended and Professor Mizoguchi, as well as most of their classmates, has left, leaving the two at loggerheads and two others who sit with them, Hanamaki and Matsukawa. Oikawa adds defiantly, “I read it on a website that specialises in such topics.”

“Don’t you know you shouldn’t believe everything you read on the Internet?” Iwaizumi retorts.

Oikawa rolls his eyes and says, “It’s a legitimate source that many people have sought advice from.”

“It’s still just an opinion, which could be wrong.”

“Have you considered the fact that maybe your opinion is wrong?” Oikawa fires back. God, Iwaizumi Hajime may be easy on the eyes (which is an understatement when Oikawa thinks he’s one of the most attractive people he’s met, a secret no one can pay him to admit aloud), but he can be awfully infuriating.

Iwaizumi runs a hand through his short, spiky hair in frustration, a habit Oikawa has noticed over the times they went at each other. He doesn’t know what pisses him off more—Iwaizumi’s blatant irritation or the realisation that he finds the act terribly attractive.

“Can we just agree to disagree?” Iwaizumi offers, wanting to put the matter to rest, but Oikawa must have developed not only a tradition, but a liking towards antagonising him.

“Sounds like what someone who doesn’t want to admit they’re wrong would say.”

Before Iwaizumi can come back with a riposte, Hanamaki, who has pulled out a seat and is watching the scene unfold, only short of a bucket of popcorn, remarks with a lazy smile, “You guys are great entertainment and all, but it makes me wonder how you’re going to work together on the assignment.”

Oikawa immediately fixes him with a puzzled stare, “What are you talking about?”

It’s Matsukawa who explains, “Didn’t you read the prof’s email? Both of you are paired for the assignment, the one that’s 20% of our grade?”

“What? How did we even get paired with each other?” Oikawa blurts. This must be a joke. Of all people, what are the odds of being paired with the last person he’d want to work with?

“It was randomised,” Matsukawa answers.

Now that’s convenient. The universe is truly conspiring against them, isn’t it? To the side, Iwaizumi groans as he scrolls through his phone and skims the email (which he forgot to check last night and intended to do so when Professor Mizoguchi mentioned it just now but was distracted by another one of Oikawa’s absurd remarks that started this argument in the first place).

“It’s true,” he confirms solemnly.

“Wow, you don’t have to sound so excited,” Oikawa deadpans.

“This will be interesting,” Hanamaki snickers and moves out of his seat, “Good luck.”

“Have fun,” Matsukawa adds and the two leave with a wave and a grin, as if the quarrel was the only matter they stayed for.

The email says no swaps will be entertained so Iwaizumi resigns himself to it. He doesn’t detest Oikawa so much to resort to that anyway. It’s not a difficult assignment and Oikawa seems to understand the material well, so they’ll be fine (as long as they can get by without bickering every chance they get). It would be best for everyone if they start soon and get it over and done with though.

Iwaizumi looks at Oikawa who’s now reading the email and starts, “I guess we should find a time to meet and discuss how we want to do this.”

“I guess,” Oikawa says in mild disgruntlement.

Iwaizumi ignores his lack of enthusiasm and tries to schedule a meet-up, but even that proves not to be a simple task.

“I’m available tomorrow evening. You?”

“I can’t. I have practice tomorrow,” Oikawa tells him.

“What about the day after?”

“I have afternoon practice so I can only meet in the morning.”

Iwaizumi frowns, “I have classes in the morning. What about Thursday?”

“I also have practice then.”

It’s self-practice, but it’s practice nonetheless, and Oikawa is a tad unwilling to sacrifice that for an elective’s assignment with someone he’s not looking forward to working with. Can’t they meet online or during lunch time to make it quick?

Iwaizumi clicks his tongue impatiently, “You have practice like every day. Don’t they give you day-offs?”

“They do, but I practise on my day-offs too,” Oikawa says loftily and won’t apologise for it. It’s not easy being an athlete trying to make a name for himself. To put in anything less than everything he has is simply not enough.

“Seriously?” Iwaizumi asks, his frown deepening. “That can’t be good.”

It must have come across as a little judgemental, because Oikawa wrinkles his nose unpleasantly and bites back, “What do you know? Every bit of practice is valuable training.”

“But there’s a point where it becomes too much,” Iwaizumi disagrees. He doesn’t mean to do it all the time, but it’s tough to ignore when Oikawa says things that go against his fundamental beliefs. As someone who chose to major in sports science because he’s seen first-hand how blind passion can hurt you as much as it can spur you, he feels obliged to say his piece.

Oikawa scoffs, “It’s called dedication.”

“It’s called overexertion.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Oikawa snaps. “I’ve done this all of highschool and I’m fine.”

“Maybe you were fine then, but your body’s going to give out if you continue like that,” Iwaizumi points out and anger flashes across Oikawa’s eyes, as if his words have struck a nerve.

“Just because you’re studying to be an athletic trainer doesn’t mean you can go around giving people advice,” Oikawa grits out, a steely edge to his voice. “If I wanted it, I’d ask for it.”

Iwaizumi visibly recoils from his acerbic words. He has honest intentions to help when he knows that an athlete is doing something inadvisable, even if he may not deliver it in the most tactful way, but to be misunderstood as a know-it-all who merely wants to prove his point makes him indignant. There’s no meaning in continuing the conversation if this is how it is. Iwaizumi schools his expression and says, “Whatever, it’s your life. Just don’t weigh me down because you want to practise every day.”

“I won’t. I’ll meet you on Thursday,” Oikawa acquiesces and jerks out his hand. “Give me your phone so I can put in my number.”

Iwaizumi hands him his phone for Oikawa to give himself a missed call and tells him, “I’ll text you the details. Don’t be late on Thursday.”

“Yes, sir,” Oikawa says dryly.

Oikawa drops his bag on the floor of his rented 1LDK apartment and unpacks his belongings from today’s practice, pulling out his phone to see a few unread messages from a familiar name as he brings them to the wash.

A couple are messages from a continuing conversation and a funny meme that makes Oikawa’s lips tug up in a tiny smile, and he would be more expressive if he doesn’t feel as exhausted as he does. Regardless, conversations with his online friend are one of the most welcomed parts of his day, so he types out his reply and realises that kaijuno4 is online too.

ventura_ventura: sorry for the late reply
ventura_ventura: i had a long day and just got back
kaijuno4: rough day too?
kaijuno4: u seemed kinda distracted the whole day
ventura_ventura: that obvious huh
ventura_ventura: sorry..(｡•́︿•̀｡)
kaijuno4: its ok
kaijuno4: it happens
kaijuno4: whats the damage?

Oikawa likes that he’s direct, even with less palatable matters. He’s never had the tendency to share his troubles, especially after moving to Tokyo, but sharing them with someone who doesn’t truly have the means to hurt him makes him feel less vulnerable than he expected. Oikawa’s learnt that at the very least, saying them lightens him, even if there isn’t a solution, so he’s glad that his friend doesn’t shy away from it.

ventura_ventura: practice didnt go so well
ventura_ventura: more like i wasnt on form
ventura_ventura: and i hate how obvious it is bc everyone can tell
kaijuno4: we all have our good and bad days
kaijuno4: at least today is over and u can try again tmr
kaijuno4: dont beat yrself up over it
ventura_ventura: yeah…u’re right
ventura_ventura: i think itll be better tmr
ventura_ventura: i wasnt feeling so well today
kaijuno4: u’re sick?
ventura_ventura: throats just feeling a little ticklish
kaijuno4: dummy
kaijuno4: u should have rested
ventura_ventura: i took my breaks
kaijuno4: i mean u shouldve stopped practice and rested
kaijuno4: be nicer to yrself
kaijuno4: yr body will thank u
ventura_ventura: (*/ω＼)

The kaomoji barely conveys his true reaction to his companion’s words. He should be nicer to himself; there’s no one more critical of himself than he is. Oikawa’s not embarrassed because his friend is right, but because he feels seen, and when it’s by someone whose real name he does not know and whose face he has not seen, Oikawa wonders what it says about him, or them.

kaijuno4: anyway, if its yr throat, try making a honey lemon drink
kaijuno4: warm water + honey + lemon
ventura_ventura: hehe i will!
ventura_ventura: btw, how do u deal with having to work with an uptight person?
ventura_ventura: thats gonna be my life for the next few weeks
kaijuno4: lol same
kaijuno4: i gotta work with some pompous guy
ventura_ventura: lololol, we can trade stories about our nightmare partners
kaijuno4: im just gonna do my part and hope he does his
ventura_ventura: and try not to scare him away
kaijuno4: maybe a bit of that is necessary
kaijuno4: but i’ll do my best
kaijuno4: u try not to rile yrs up
ventura_ventura: cant make any promises but i’ll do my best too
ventura_ventura: ugh i hope he doesnt insist on meeting too far from school
ventura_ventura: i like taking the namba line to and from my apartment
kaijuno4: u’re in tokyo? 

Oikawa realises his blunder a little too late, distracted by his chores to pay attention to what he’s saying. It’s not a big deal, he figures, if he lets known where he stays; it’s not going to make a difference. But before he can wave away the accidental disclosure, the next message makes his eyes go round with surprise.

kaijuno4: i live in tokyo too
ventura_ventura: seriously???
ventura_ventura: this whole time i thought we were in different cities!
ventura_ventura: we’re closer than we thought
kaijuno4: yeah, what are the odds
ventura_ventura: omg, what if we’ve actually walked past each other
kaijuno4: we wouldnt know
ventura_ventura: since u wont send me a picture, at least give me a clue?

He’s persistent, Iwaizumi will give him that. Okay, he’ll bite.

kaijuno4: what do u wanna know?
ventura_ventura: whats yr hair colour?
kaijuno4: black
ventura_ventura: long? short?
kaijuno4: short
ventura_ventura: eye colour?
kaijuno4: grey
ventura_ventura: im getting serious-looking vibes from u
ventura_ventura: how tall are u?
kaijuno4: 179cm
ventura_ventura: ohh im taller than u!
kaijuno4: by how much?
ventura_ventura: 5cm
kaijuno4: eh
kaijuno4: u cant ask me a bunch of questions and not say anything yrself
ventura_ventura: u can just say u’re interested ;)
ventura_ventura: brown hair, short but a little wavy and swept to the side, brown eyes
ventura_ventura: i dont have any identifiable marks like birthmarks or moles
ventura_ventura: oh and i have pretty long fingers
kaijuno4: so something like this?
kaijuno4: [image sent]

The picture that pops up on his screen snatches a short laugh from Oikawa. It’s a crude doodle of what he’s thought to look like, with a silly wink and tongue poking out, his doodle-self throwing up a peace sign with ridiculously long fingers. Oikawa humours him.

ventura_ventura: wow, with those skills, u’re gonna put hokusai to shame
ventura_ventura: i think if we ever see each other, u’re gonna get a big surprise
ventura_ventura: in a good way
kaijuno4: again with that confidence
ventura_ventura: (^.~)☆
ventura_ventura: do u think we will ever?
ventura_ventura: see each other?
kaijuno4: if im convinced u’re not some kind of serial killer, why not?
ventura_ventura: now u’re just being cute
ventura_ventura: okok, i have to shower and start on my assignment otherwise i have to stay up really late
ventura_ventura: which i know you disapprove of
kaijuno4: go
kaijuno4: dont forget to make that honey lemon drink
ventura_ventura: (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

Oikawa smiles. To think you could be cared for by someone (not so) far away. It feels nice.

Iwaizumi glances up from his laptop and arches a brow wordlessly at the sight of his assignment partner. Oikawa looks…a little under the weather. His eyes are tired and his cheeks have lost their usual healthy rosiness (but it’s not like he’s been paying attention). He’s not as talkative either; after the first half-hour of their meeting, he grew reticent and amenable, which was why they were able to get a considerable amount of work done without too many disagreements and that’s more than what Iwaizumi expected when he walked up to Oikawa at the study tables today.

They’re on their laptops doing research and going over their readings after deciding on the outline of their project, and Iwaizumi is perfectly fine with the silence, but Oikawa seems to get queasier as the minutes tick by, and it’s starting to concern Iwaizumi.

No longer able to ignore his clear discomfort, Iwaizumi speaks up, “Hey, you okay? You can go if you want, I’ll finish up the rest for today.”

He merely receives a short, “I’m fine,” and Iwaizumi doesn’t buy it at all—not when Oikawa’s voice sounds hoarser than before.

“Are you sure?” Iwaizumi asks doubtfully. “You look pale.”

There’s no question about it, it’s plain as day. He doesn’t understand why Oikawa has to put on a front. It’s not as if Iwaizumi is forcing him to stay, nor will he think less of him if he’s unwell. Even so, Oikawa replies tersely, “I’m fine. I’ll finish my part then I’ll go.”

He stubbornly stays in his seat and Iwaizumi doesn’t insist; he hasn’t had much success when he does anyway. Oikawa is an adult, and if he wants to soldier on against his better judgement, Iwaizumi tells himself there’s no need to interfere more than he has to. Oikawa seems to realise that he needs to get himself together, so he murmurs, “I’m going to the washroom for a bit,” but in his haste, he stands up too quickly and it makes him go light-headed immediately.

Oikawa stumbles back onto the seat and barely registers Iwaizumi’s startled “Woah, are you okay?” He keeps his head down, one hand clutching the edge of the table as he takes a moment to find his bearings, but he feels hot and woozy, his breathing is becoming shallow, and when he opens his eyes, his vision is blurry.

Oikawa doesn’t notice that Iwaizumi has come to his side of the table and put the back of his hand against his forehead, but he does hear him say firmly, “That’s definitely a fever. You should go home.”

“I…I will,” Oikawa manages. “Just—give me a minute.”

He’s going to need more than a minute. Oikawa sits there, head still bowed and eyebrows pinched together. Iwaizumi regards him briefly, then assesses his situation. They’re almost done for the day, it’s unlikely that Oikawa can continue his work in that state, and it doesn’t appear that he’s lucid enough to get home. Iwaizumi hesitates between leaving him be and giving him a hand. He takes in the sight of an afflicted Oikawa, and that’s all it takes for his natural inclinations to win.

Iwaizumi sighs.

“Come on,” he says and starts to pack their things.

*

They manage to arrive at Oikawa’s apartment after a bit of fussing at the beginning, and Oikawa may not show it, but he’s awfully relieved that he’s home because the more he stays out, the shittier he feels. The second his shoes are off in the entranceway, he lumbers straight to bed at the other end of the small apartment and falls cheek first into his pillow, fully-dressed but he doesn’t care because all he wants right now is to not be awake.

Iwaizumi was about to call him back to at least eat some medicine before he knocked out, but gave up after seeing him with only one destination in mind. He could leave now. He’s done the minimum of seeing Oikawa home safely so he could leave and he would still have done him a kindness. But Iwaizumi isn’t just kind, he cares.

He mumbles a “sorry for the intrusion” and leaves Oikawa’s belongings by the wall before padding over to him carefully.

“Oi. Don’t sleep yet,” Iwaizumi says, prodding Oikawa’s shoulders gently. “Where do you keep your medicine?”

Oikawa groans and retreats deeper under his covers but Iwaizumi makes out a breathy “Kitchen cabinet…”

He shuffles around the kitchenette, opening and closing doors in search of medicine and a mug, and returns with both. He sets the mug on the nightstand and holds out the pills to Oikawa, “Take these. It’ll help with the fever.” Oikawa doesn’t protest; in fact, he takes them obediently and burrows back into bed right after. Iwaizumi looks at him sympathetically and asks, “You gonna be okay?”

Not forgetting his manners, Oikawa mutters through a haze, “Thanks. I’ll be fine on my own. You should go.”

Iwaizumi supposes his work here is done, but when he surveys the room (or rather, the entire house), it feels like something’s missing. It doesn’t take him long to realise it’s because of how bare the place is. There’s minimal furniture; no dining table or study desk, just a coffee table that probably doubles up as both between the kitchenette and the bed. The walls are devoid of posters or pictures and there’s no home decor to give the abode any sort of personality.

It’s a stark contrast to what Iwaizumi imagines Oikawa’s house would be. He thought it would be livelier somehow, that he’d be able to see Oikawa’s character in the way he lives, but perhaps he hardly knows Oikawa at all. (Who is he kidding; how can he know him when all they do is talk but not say anything?)

Iwaizumi spares him a glance and notes the flush high on his cheeks. This guy probably lives alone, is the kind of person who almost never falls sick but when he does, it’s like the grim reaper’s paying a visit, and hates asking people for help.

Iwaizumi figures he can be alone but he doesn’t have to be lonely.

*

Oikawa wakes up about two hours later, still in a daze. He can hear someone moving about in the kitchenette, metals clinging and glasses clinking softly. His mind has yet to fully wake, so it hasn’t occurred to him to be alarmed that there’s a stranger in his house, though it doesn’t feel like he’s in danger.

He sits up and rubs his bleary eyes, trying to make out the figure in the distance. Oikawa recognises the head of dark, spiky hair easily.

“Iwaizumi?” he calls out, more surprised than he sounds.

The other student straightens and turns around to face him.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi greets, looking a little caught off-guard, as if he doesn’t expect Oikawa to wake up this soon. He half-hoped that he could finish preparing the porridge and leave with a note, but it appears that they’re past that. Awkwardly, he asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Oikawa answers automatically, voice raspy with sleep and sickness. He remembers Iwaizumi sending him home (which is puzzling on its own), but it bewilders him to see that he hasn’t left. Curiosity is evident in his voice when he asks, “What are you doing here?”

Iwaizumi turns off the stove and answers, “I made fish porridge for when you wake up.”

It earns him a head-tilt that Iwaizumi tries not to find terribly adorable.

“You made porridge?” Oikawa asks, and he may very well have been told that he’s won the lottery with how disbelieving his question comes out.

“Yeah. I checked your fridge, I hope you don’t mind, and it’s practically empty so I went out to get some stuff.” It took him longer than he expected because the grocery store closest to Oikawa’s apartment is on the higher end, so Iwaizumi travelled a bit further to a more wallet-friendly supermarket, especially if he was going to stock up Oikawa’s fridge with a few more essentials, since it’s…sad, to say the least.

Despite the explanation, Oikawa remains dumbfounded, his expression one of pure confusion. There are a dozen questions he wants to ask, but they don’t form well in his muddled brain. The only thought he can form is, “Why?”

Iwaizumi shrugs. He asked himself the same thing, but it’s really not that complicated.

“You’re sick,” he says. “You should eat something light, definitely not oily takeaway food which I doubt you have the stomach for anyway. But seeing as you have nothing in your fridge and I’m guessing you live alone, I thought I could make something before I go.”

Oikawa takes a minute to process his words.

“That’s…” he starts, the right words eluding his groggy mind. Unnecessary? No, too ungrateful. Nice? No, that sounds too awkward. Eventually, Oikawa settles with the only two words a person can say when they’ve been shown kindness.

“Thank you,” he says, blinking away sheepishly. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s no big deal,” Iwaizumi brushes it off. He turns back to put a lid over the pot of porridge and tells Oikawa, “It’s ready so you can eat it whenever. I’ll get going.”

He goes to retrieve his bag, which jolts Oikawa into action. Oikawa isn’t quite sure what he intends to do, but it would be remiss to let Iwaizumi leave just like that, right? Without thinking twice, he speaks up, “Wait. Is it enough for two?”

“I guess,” Iwaizumi answers after a pause.

“Why don’t you stay?” Oikawa suggests in a hurry. “Since you went through the trouble and it’s almost dinnertime anyway.” Iwaizumi’s surprised reaction suddenly makes him self-conscious. He just woke up from a nap, he’s still in his sleep-rumpled clothes, and he probably looks like a nightmare from feeling sick (he does not). Scrambling off the bed, Oikawa adds, “I’ll take a quick shower so just help yourself okay?”

He’s off to the bathroom before Iwaizumi has a chance to reply. Now alone, he releases a quiet breath. Iwaizumi supposes he’ll have to stay.

*

There are two bowls of piping hot fish porridge on the coffee table when they get seated across from each other, Oikawa fresh from his shower and looking markedly better than a few hours ago. Iwaizumi reckons he’s one of those people who miraculously recovers from their sickness after a simple thing as a nap. It’s kind of annoying.

“You probably don’t have much of an appetite, so don’t force yourself,” Iwaizumi advises and Oikawa merely nods. It’s weird to see him so compliant. Iwaizumi never imagined Oikawa to have a side like this but then again, being sick will subdue a person, and it’s not like he’s complaining. Nobody likes a bad patient.

After an experimental taste, Oikawa says, “It’s good.” Iwaizumi wouldn’t call himself anything close to a culinary expert, so if he were being honest, it’s relieving to hear that, and if the tiny smile on Oikawa’s face embarrasses him the slightest bit, he tries to ignore it. To his surprise, Oikawa laughs lightly, adding, “Makes me feel bad for picking fights with you all the time.”

Iwaizumi snorts and digs into his own food. “It’s fine. It’s not like I could have left you by yourself,” he says, as-a-matter-of-fact. As it turns out, Oikawa is very difficult to ignore, in more ways than one. In a bid to make small talk, he asks, “How’d you get so sick?”

Perhaps it isn’t the most appropriate topic to start with, as Oikawa’s face turns rueful. Keeping his gaze on his food, he says guiltily, “I think…I must have overworked myself, even though I was already feeling unwell.” He pretends the admittance doesn’t make him feel as awful as it does by adding, “Go ahead, you can say ‘I told you so.’”

If Iwaizumi is going to gloat, Oikawa would rather he gets it over with right now. At least he’d know it’s coming. But it isn’t about being right with Iwaizumi; he has nothing to prove. There’s always only one reason why he says the things he says to Oikawa. He’s an incredible athlete (there’s no way Iwaizumi wouldn’t have heard about the setter, although most things about him he learned against his will), but sometimes at his own expense and Iwaizumi doesn’t want to see where that self-destructive streak leads, having witnessed it before.

Instead, he asks, not accusatory, “Why do you push yourself so hard?”

Oikawa, caught off-guard by the line of questioning, hesitates but realises that the answer is simple.

“I just want to be better.”

“Better than?”

“Just better,” Oikawa lets out a bit impatiently, but not at Iwaizumi for asking, just at himself for always leaving this too much of a mess to be said. He tries anyway. “Better than the next guy. Than the last version of myself.”

“When’s it enough?” Iwaizumi presses on.

“I don’t know. I’ve never felt it before,” Oikawa answers, far too honest and vulnerable for his liking. It’s bad enough that he’s sick and being taken care of; why does his insecurities have to come out to play?

Iwaizumi hums and Oikawa sneaks a glance at him, but his expression is unreadable. Before the mood grows too tense, he says, “I don’t think it’s a bad thing. To want to be better. You athletes always have so much passion, it’s actually amazing. But don’t let the same thing that keeps you going burn you out. Resting isn’t the same as stopping.” As if realising that he’s gone on a spiel, which is never well-received by Oikawa, Iwaizumi apologises, “Sorry, I know you’re not looking for advice.”

“It’s okay,” Oikawa assures. There’s truth behind his words and he knows it too, it’s just hard to admit that it’s knowledge unacted on. “You’re right. I just forget that most times.”

He looks sheepish, and Iwaizumi can’t tell if the pinkness in his cheeks is from the sickness or the confession. He can tell, however, that Oikawa is the epitome of devotion and Iwaizumi thinks he shouldn’t be punished for it.

“I get it,” Iwaizumi tells him. “I’ve been on both sides. I know what it’s like to want to keep practising, but be nicer to yourself to know when to give yourself a break. Trust me, they’re easier than regrets.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Oikawa smiles and Iwaizumi finds that he can enjoy it when Oikawa’s smile isn’t taunting him. It quickly vanishes though, when Oikawa meets his eyes, eyebrows furrowed, and demands, “What do you mean you’ve been on both sides? You played volleyball?”

Ah, he supposes he’s never mentioned it before.

“Up till high school, yeah,” Iwaizumi replies. “I played wing spiker.”

It’s the most animated Oikawa has been the whole day when he pushes, “Why didn’t you say anything before?!”

“You didn’t ask,” Iwaizumi says around a spoonful of porridge.

Now that’s just embarrassing. Oikawa was under the impression that Iwaizumi didn’t know better, but apparently, he’d been arguing with a guy who is not only studying to help the very kind of people he’s aspiring to be, but who has also played the same sport before, and as a wing spiker no less. Oikawa bets he was the ace.

“You could have said something in all the times we argued…” Oikawa mumbles, mortified. Eager to change the subject (and also curious), he asks, “Why did you stop playing?”

“I still like it, but I thought maybe I can do more off the court than on it,” Iwaizumi explains. There’s a long version to it, because choosing this path is tied to something he holds dear, but he doesn’t want to unload all of that on Oikawa, so he says, “I can understand the passion that athletes have for the sport, and I want to support them in it.”

Quiet amazement flits across Oikawa’s eyes before he ducks his head and chuckles, “Feels like I’m just getting to know you despite being in the same class for half a term.” He’s learned a lot about Iwaizumi today, one of which is that he’s a genuinely caring person, contrary to what Oikawa first believed, and he’ll admit that he was wrong with no shame at all. In the back of his mind, he thinks about how Iwaizumi is not only attractive and smart, but now he also has a heart of gold? That seems unfair.

Iwaizumi scoffs in agreement, “I think we’ve argued more than we’ve talked, so I’m not surprised.”

“Okay then, truce?” Oikawa offers.

Iwaizumi pretends to consider, then finally says, “Truce.”

Smiling, Oikawa sticks his spoon into his porridge again. Despite the subsiding fever, his appetite is not too bad, though it could be thanks to his companion. Perhaps this is the beginning of an unlikely friendship?

“So, Iwa-chan—” he starts but is immediately cut off.

“Yeah. No.”

“Why not?” Oikawa pouts. “I give all my friends nicknames.”

“I’ll pass,” Iwaizumi says nonchalantly.

Oikawa purses his lips and makes a thoughtful sound, “Kind of comes as a package.”

“Can I have the receipt?”

“Hey!”

*

Later, when Iwaizumi returns to his apartment, his phone buzzes with an incoming message.

oikawa: thank u for today
oikawa: (´ ∀ ` *)

ventura_ventura: thank u for the milk bread (っ˘ω˘ς )
ventura_ventura: its really tasty
ventura_ventura: and i didnt expect to see the smiley face when i sliced it open 

It was a real treat, in terms of what he received and how it happened.

When Oikawa let slip that he was recovering from a cold, and after being warned about a bug going around because it seemed like a lot of people were getting sick, he was sent an address to a bakery he never heard of and told to pick up an order the next day.

It was only when he arrived at a charming little bakery in a quieter part of the city that he discovered he was meant to pick up an order of milk bread. It was pretty embarrassing to tell the young blonde at the counter, whose name tag read ‘Yachi’, that he was here to collect an order for ventura , but she was adorably delighted to serve him, as if she had been awaiting his arrival, and handed him a packet of freshly baked milk bread with a smile.

Oikawa had an inkling it would be this when he searched the bakery on Google Maps and recalled that he’d emphasised how milk bread was simply divine in one of their comfortingly trivial conversations. Before he left, he acted on his temptation to ask Yachi about the person who made the order.

“Oh, you mean kaiju number four?” she asked, to Oikawa’s amusement. “Sorry, I don’t know what he looks like because he made the order online. But he called the shop and he had a gruff voice, a little scratchy too.”

Oikawa held onto that piece of information proudly. He reckoned if his mysterious friend did visit the shop, Yachi (if she recognised him from his voice alone) wouldn’t be able to tell him what he looked like, since he was wearing a face mask. It feels like they’re playing a game, which hasn’t lost its novelty because kaiju number four finds new ways to play, but Oikawa is eager for someone to emerge victorious.

He is one-upped this round when later in the day he helps himself to the treat and is greeted by a smiley face printed on the inside of the loaf. He can’t help but return the smile, knowing that whoever is behind the kaiju username is thoughtful enough to lead him through the city to his favourite food, although all Oikawa got out of it is that he has a ‘gruff and scratchy voice’.

It’s a sweet gesture and Oikawa realises he’s been on the receiving end of that recently, but while Iwaizumi made his heart skip a tiny beat, kaiju number four makes a familiar warmth spread across his chest. Oikawa tries not to think if he prefers one over the other.

kaijuno4: dont mention it
kaijuno4: thought it might cheer u up
ventura_ventura: u thought right
ventura_ventura: now i have another bakery to add to my list ヽ(o＾▽＾o)ノ
kaijuno4: u feel better?
ventura_ventura: much!
ventura_ventura: im back to normal after resting properly
kaijuno4: see?
kaijuno4: resting is important
ventura_ventura: yes yes
ventura_ventura: i’ll remember that
kaijuno4: good
kaijuno4: its good timing too right?
kaijuno4: dont u have a game coming up?
ventura_ventura: yeap!
ventura_ventura: im so nervous
ventura_ventura: and so excited
kaijuno4: good luck
kaijuno4: u’ll do fine 💪

It’s one of the few times he uses an emoji and Oikawa has learned to treasure the moments he lets his softer side show. Oikawa is growing infinitely curious to know what he’s like in real life and not only through the screen, after all the late-night conversations they had and all the secrets they hadn’t meant to spill. It wouldn’t be weird, right? To wonder if they could meet. People meet up with their online friends all the time.

ventura_ventura: hey
ventura_ventura: if i invite u to watch the game, will u come?
ventura_ventura: i promise its really a game and im not a serial killer
ventura_ventura: or have anything to do with the yakuza

Oikawa waits anxiously for the reply and almost regrets it when it takes a longer time to arrive. He can almost imagine kaiju number four staring at his phone and wondering how to reject him, perhaps even silently judging him. As he thought, it’s weird, isn’t it? But just as he’s about to wave off his suggestion with feigned nonchalance, his phone vibrates against the desk, cutting off his derailing train of thought.

kaijuno4: how convincing
kaijuno4: sure, i’d go
kaijuno4: tbh im curious to see how different u are from the dork who spends his time arguing with ppl on online forums
ventura_ventura: i dont do that all the time!!
ventura_ventura: and i said before that u’d be surprised in a good way
kaijuno4: whens yr game?
ventura_ventura: next fri afternoon

On the other side of the screen, Iwaizumi frowns. As much as he’s interested to finally meet the sci-fi movie geek who is equal parts insufferable and endearing, he already promised to meet Hanamaki that day, and Hanamaki made it seem like it’s of utmost importance that he be there, even though he omitted to say why.

kaijuno4: shit
kaijuno4: i have plans with a friend next fri
ventura_ventura: oh
ventura_ventura: thats too bad
ventura_ventura: its okay!
kaijuno4: let me ask him if we can reschedule
ventura_ventura: its fine really
ventura_ventura: maybe our timings dont match up now, but im sure we’ll have other chances
kaijuno4: ok
kaijuno4: next time then
ventura_ventura: ( ˙꒳˙ )

They both think it’s a shame, but now that the ball has started rolling, perhaps their time to meet isn’t far. Never say never.

kaijuno4: so do u have any stories about yr nightmare partner?
ventura_ventura: yknow…hes not as bad as i thought
kaijuno4: srs?
ventura_ventura: yeah hes actually quite nice
ventura_ventura: what about yrs?
kaijuno4: weirdly same
kaijuno4: i guess i was wrong about him
ventura_ventura: that makes two of us

Iwaizumi shoots Hanamaki a flat look when it becomes clear that they’re at the university gymnasium for the volleyball team, who’s doing their warm-ups on the court.

“Your ‘plan’ is to watch the volleyball team’s practice match?” he asks, less thrilled than he would be. It’s not like he’s uninterested in the game or the people on the team, it’s just that there’s another game he’d rather watch, and it may very well not be just a game, but he wouldn’t know now, would he?

“Yeah. That’s why I couldn’t reschedule,” Hanamaki explains breezily, leading them across the back of the spectator seats to the middle.

Iwaizumi cocks a brow at him, “Since when did you care about the volleyball team, let alone their practice matches?” When Hanamaki asked to hang out and insisted that they had to meet today, watching their school’s volleyball practice match was the last thing on his mind.

“I have friends on the team,” Hanamaki retorts.

“Like who?”

“Oikawa, for one,” he answers, and Iwaizumi admits he set the bar too low, but he wasn’t aware they were that close for Hanamaki to show his support at a casual game. “And Yaku, the libero. We have the same major.”

“I didn’t know that,” Iwaizumi says, evidently surprised to learn this piece of news.

“Now you do,” Hanamaki tells him coolly. Before Iwaizumi can doubt him further, because it’s seldom that simple with the pink-haired second year, he adds, “‘sides, aren’t you friends with people on the volleyball team too? Like Ushijima. I would count Oikawa too, despite…whatever it is you guys got going on.”

It puts a frown on Iwaizumi’s face instantly, out of bemusement more than anything else. He wonders what Hanamaki means by that and the mildly conspiratorial way he said that is worrying too. He and Oikawa are…friends, he supposes. They don’t argue as much in class and when they meet up to work on their assignment, it’s a civilised affair (entertaining even, but that’s besides the point). It’s as simple as that.

Hanamaki notices his expression and claps him on the shoulder, “Don’t frown. It’s not like you have anything better to do, right?” He couldn’t be further from the truth, but Iwaizumi doesn’t correct him. “Come on, let’s go sit at the front.”

It isn’t hard to spot Oikawa on the court. Iwaizumi’s gaze finds him easily; he’s peppering, his expression focused as he goes through the familiar motions. The white knee support on Oikawa’s right knee catches Iwaizumi’s attention. That’s news to him.

Iwaizumi doesn’t expect him to notice that he’s here, but the ball goes astray when it hits his pepper partner’s arm and when Oikawa retrieves it near the seats, his eyes flicker up to the crowd and lands on Iwaizumi.

His mouth parts in surprise in a way Iwaizumi is tempted to call adorable. Oikawa blinks a few times and puts up a hand to wave at him tentatively, the movement so tiny that Iwaizumi himself returns a small wave of his own, eyebrows raised in a silent greeting. The setter recovers quickly, surprise vanishing into a cheeky smile before he jerks his chin at Hanamaki and turns his attention to another part of the crowd and waves.

That wave stirs up a bout of excited cheers and high-pitched “Oikawa-san!”s from his dedicated fans. Iwaizumi acknowledges that it’s no surprise someone like Oikawa has fans, but guys who have girls squealing over them are rarely in his good books. Oikawa may be the exception. May.

Oikawa returns to his warm-ups, back already facing the crowd when his smile turns almost fond, and it’s not the work of his loyal fanbase. He was hoping to see a certain kaiju fan today, but he figures seeing Iwaizumi here is a nice twist too.

It’s only a practice match, but Oikawa plays his hardest, like he always does for the things he loves. It makes his fans swoon, his opponents exasperated, and Iwaizumi confesses that coming to this game could be time well spent.

*

The game ends in their team’s favour and Hanamaki wastes no time in heading down to the sidelines with Iwaizumi in tow. He doesn’t get to say if they’re interrupting their warm-downs against Hanamaki’s insistence, but he supposes it’s fine when Oikawa notices them approaching and meets them halfway. With well-masked deliberation, Hanamaki claps Iwaizumi on the back and jogs off to the side, leaving him alone and without a chance to wonder what’s up with that.

Oikawa steals his attention soon enough with a casual, “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Oikawa starts, tone curious and amused. His face is red from exertion and his hair is sticking to his forehead but he somehow manages to look like an artwork.

Iwaizumi shrugs and jerks his head to the side, “It was Hanamaki’s idea.”

Oikawa’s gaze follows and the sight of Hanamaki chatting with their libero makes him raise his eyebrow and ask, “He knows Yaku?”

“Yeah. Apparently they have the same major.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“That’s what I said,” Iwaizumi points out with a quirk of his lips.

Oikawa returns his smile, feeling light from the victory and the unpredicted meeting. It’s funny to think about how their interactions have turned from hostile to pleasant, sometimes playful even, that their arguments have evolved into enjoyable banter. First impressions in this case are severely misleading and he means it in the best way.

“How did you find the match?” Oikawa asks, grateful for their small private talk while Hanamaki seems busy with Yaku and a few others who have joined their conversation.

“It was good,” Iwaizumi says with a nod. “The opposing team was quite aggressive but you guys have some smart plays of your own. The back attacks were especially fun to watch.”

Oikawa’s eyes brighten as he tells him proudly, “We’ve been practising that to use in matches.”

“Glad it paid off then,” Iwaizumi says. His gaze flickers down to Oikawa’s knee and curiosity gets the better of him. “I didn’t know you wore a knee support.”

“You would if you came to our games,” Oikawa quips. People don’t usually ask him about his knee support, but he figures it’s not weird coming from Iwaizumi. Oikawa waves a hand dismissively and answers, “I wear it all the time. It’s an old injury.”

Iwaizumi hums in consideration but doesn’t offer anything else, even though he looks like he wants to. There’s a thoughtful expression on his face, eyebrows barely scrunched together as he studies Oikawa with a hint of uncertainty. It’s obvious there are a few questions behind his silence and that he’s holding back lest he crosses a line, but Oikawa cuts to the chase and says, “I can hear you thinking.”

Iwaizumi takes that as the go-ahead and says, “I just wonder if you take care of it properly.”

“Your athletic trainer-in training is showing,” Oikawa jokes, a contrast against the seriousness that Iwaizumi wears. Perhaps he’s downplaying it or it’s simply nothing to fuss over, but that’s for Iwaizumi to find out at a later time. Oikawa adds, “It’s not that serious. I strained my knee in high school and I wear it for more support.”

“Do you do exercises?”

“Yes. Diligently,” Oikawa replies in all honesty, though his impish grin may plant some suspicion in Iwaizumi’s mind. The matter is dropped when Oikawa narrows his eyes at him and asks, “I’m curious, does this come with the major or are you concerned about me?”

Iwaizumi’s scoff is immediate and full of disbelief, but he can’t help the grin that Oikawa’s teasing so easily draws out of him. With a purposeful look, he says, “Not everything is about you,” at which point, one of Oikawa’s fans calls out his name from the stands and waves vigorously when he glances over.

Oikawa waves back politely and even offers a smile, which causes her entire group of friends to giggle, like that simple gesture is enough to make their day. He turns back to Iwaizumi to make a point, “My fans would say differently.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “I’m not your fan.”

“I know,” Oikawa says, smirking. It may be an objection, yet Oikawa’s chest fills with smugness. He doesn’t want Iwaizumi to be his fan, at least not in the conventional sense, but he can’t quite place what he wants Iwaizumi to be. Rivals-turned-friends is a good place to start, but perhaps not the only place to stay.

The glint in his eyes tells Iwaizumi something he isn’t saying, and Iwaizumi figures Oikawa is teasing him. He averts his eyes and goes a little pink from self-consciousness, not accustomed to this sort of treatment. Oikawa is teasing him, and he finds himself enjoying the reaction.

“If you guys are done flirting, we can go for dinner once the team’s ready,” Hanamaki’s voice cuts in. He offers a simple explanation to Iwaizumi, “We’re invited to dinner,” before Iwaizumi can refute his assumption.

“We are?” he asks, surprised at the sudden invitation.

“Yeah,” Hanamaki confirms, as if he’s friends with the whole team now. “It’s fine right, Oikawa?”

“Of course. I’d enjoy the extra company,” Oikawa smiles. He directs it at Iwaizumi and adds, “We can continue our conversation later. I want to know if I’ll be seeing more of Iwa-chan at our matches,” leaving him with the parting request as he jogs away.

*

Dinner flies by when there’s mouth-watering sushi and a couple of unexpected guests who prove to be great company. By the end of it, Oikawa confesses he’s glad that Iwaizumi came to watch the game today. When they’re not trying to challenge each other, Oikawa likes the easy banter they fall into which, if he dares to admit, is nearly equivalent to liking the person himself.

It’s a confusing situation, because Oikawa hasn’t forgotten about his tiny crush on a fellow sci-fi nerd, but he wonders if there could be anything more to that friendship, whereas Iwa-chan is well—right here, and who he is growing fonder of each day.

ventura_ventura: did u see this video?
ventura_ventura: [video sent]
ventura_ventura: op shares some interesting theories about how the two franchises can be brought tgt :o
ventura_ventura: u think the studios will do that?
kaijuno4: i watched the first min and it doesnt sound that impossible
kaijuno4: but im gonna have to continue this later
kaijuno4: i have to be somewhere
ventura_ventura: im out too actually
ventura_ventura: i wish i wasnt tho
ventura_ventura: i rather be home (￣□￣」)
kaijuno4: u and me both
kaijuno4: i hate being forced to attend stuff
ventura_ventura: we can keep each other company!!
ventura_ventura: is it a social event?
kaijuno4: unfortunately yes
ventura_ventura: u’re such an introvert lol
ventura_ventura: u can get out of talking to other people by pretending to text
ventura_ventura: except u wont be pretending
kaijuno4: i /am/ an introvert but this is bc i didnt wanna go
kaijuno4: also isnt that kinda rude?

Iwaizumi looks up from his phone when he arrives at the restaurant’s large private room he was told to be at and is startled by the sight of Oikawa who, if you gave him a list of people he’d expect to see here, is the least likely person he’d think of. In fact, he wouldn’t even be on the list, because this is a mixer, and Oikawa Tooru is not the kind of guy who attends mixers.

(It’s bizarre that Iwaizumi himself would be at one but that’s another story altogether.)

“What are you doing here?” he asks without preamble, lingering by the door to get to the bottom of Oikawa’s unexpected appearance.

Oikawa is equally astonished to see brusque, straightforward Iwaizumi here and he turns the question back on him, “I could ask you the same thing. I didn’t know you were looking for a relationship.”

“I’m not,” Iwaizumi asserts and goes sheepish as he adds, “I lost a bet.”

That seems to amuse Oikawa and Iwaizumi can already see the beginnings of a teasing smile on his lips. “Is that so?” he says rhetorically, head tilted in smugness as if he has a theory proven right. “You don’t seem like the type to attend mixers even if you were looking for a relationship.”

Iwaizumi chooses not to confirm or deny his statement and instead reiterates, “And you? You didn’t answer my question.”

Sighing, Oikawa answers, “I owed a friend a favour and he wanted me to take his place because he recently met someone and wanted to go on a date with her instead.” It turns out his friend didn’t care who replaced him, as long as he wasn’t the reason there was an odd number, and Oikawa was a convenient choice who couldn’t say no if he wanted to pay off his debt.

“Figures,” Iwaizumi says knowingly. “I didn’t think people like you needed to attend mixers.”

“Oh?” Oikawa instantly perks up and grins. “Is that a compliment?”

“Not at all,” Iwaizumi is quick to shoot him down, although it sounds half-hearted.

“If you say so,” Oikawa lilts. The evening has gotten a little interesting, and Oikawa no longer dreads the rest of it all of a sudden. Funny how fast his perspective changes with a single presence. He might as well keep it going. Eyeing Iwaizumi, he suggests, “Since we’re both here against our will, want to sit together?”

Iwaizumi pretends to ponder. It’s not a hard choice to make.

“Sure.”

*

In the spacious room that the organisers (two second-years from the arts faculty) have booked, sixteen people are seated along two long tables filled with food from the all-you-can-eat menu that comes with the booking. It’s a bigger-than-average group, and the students have broken into smaller groups to mingle after the first round of introductions, so Iwaizumi and Oikawa manage to keep to themselves at one end of the table while participating minimally in whatever the rest of the table comes up with, get-to-know-you games and this-or-that questions.

At some point during a word-associated game they’re forced to play, Oikawa remembers he’s left the conversation with his other companion hanging and furtively checks his phone, pressing his lips together when he realises he’s the one who hasn’t replied. He texts under the table, avoiding notice like a pro.

ventura_ventura: woops i got distracted |･ω･)
kaijuno4: u’re the one who said we could keep each other company and then u ghost me
ventura_ventura: sorry!
ventura_ventura: i didnt expect to get caught up
kaijuno4: its fine
kaijuno4: i was kinda busy too
ventura_ventura: oh?
ventura_ventura: are u actually socialising? 
kaijuno4: not really?
kaijuno4: idk i’ve just been talking to one person
ventura_ventura: whats this event u were dreading anyway?

Someone calls out Iwaizumi’s name, startling the both of them into putting away their phones. That conversation is left alone for more physical ones and they find their attention occupied by the group’s enthusiasm and when that settles, just each other.

“Just now,” Oikawa says, reaching across the table to help himself to a couple sticks of beef skewers, “you said you weren’t looking for a relationship. Why not?”

Iwaizumi, with his own generous serving of tofu, is slightly taken aback by the unexpected question but answers coolly, “Do I need a special reason?” It was a passing remark, nothing profound about it, and Iwaizumi is more curious why Oikawa would be interested.

“People usually say that because they’re emotionally unavailable,” Oikawa says with a one-shoulder shrug, trying to pass it off as an offhand comment despite being awfully intrigued. Perhaps there’s nothing much to it, but who knows what he’ll learn if he wonders aloud.

Iwaizumi throws him a pointed look and says, “I didn’t just go through a break-up if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He was, in fact, wondering. Pressing on, he asks, “But about being emotionally unavailable…?”

Iwaizumi makes a face. “Do you have to put it like that?” If he’s being honest, attending a mixer now is not exactly the best timing when he already has someone he fancies (sort of). He tries not to let that slip as he says, “I just—could be interested in someone.”

He means the person he formed a peculiar connection with over the Interwebs but if he dug a little deeper, he may also be interested in someone a little realer. Iwaizumi’s mildly troubled at the possibility.

“Could be? What does that mean?” Oikawa demands. “You’re either interested in them or you’re not!”

“Fine, I am,” Iwaizumi admits in exasperation. “But it’s not that simple. It’s not easy for us to meet.” It’s not the full story, because he’s both too embarrassed to reveal that he likes someone he met online and not dumb enough to tell Oikawa that his affections are split between two people.

“Oh,” Oikawa says with less enthusiasm although he was the one who wanted an answer. “Even so, you can keep your options open right? Finding someone is a lot about timing.” The confession is frankly a little disappointing and despite giving a tiny piece of heart to someone else, Oikawa can’t help but wonder if he has a chance with Iwa-chan, who he seems to have more affinity with.

“I guess,” Iwaizumi agrees hesitantly. He shakes his head and stuffs another piece of tofu into his mouth and changes the topic, “What about you? Even though you’re only here because you owed someone, are you expecting to go home with a few numbers tonight?”

Oikawa scans the room and says, completely serious, “Believe it or not, you’re the most interesting person in this room, so I don’t think so.”

Iwaizumi raises his brow to hide a hint of amusement, “You haven’t talked to most of these people, so I don’t know how I feel about being complimented by you.”

“I know some of them,” Oikawa huffs. “My compliments don’t come easy so you should be honoured, for sure.”

“Pretty boys who have girls screaming over them piss me off the most though,” Iwaizumi retorts, no heat behind his words.

“You say that, but you’re spending all your time with me,” Oikawa counters without missing a beat, and with a clear smirk on his face.

“Eat your food,” is all Iwaizumi says to that, which Oikawa is more than willing to comply with knowing that he’s won this round, but he scowls at his skewer.

“I don’t like this,” he says as he picks out the scallions off the stick. 

“So picky,” Iwaizumi comments but otherwise pushes his plate towards Oikawa. “Give them to me.”

Oikawa takes on the offer and deposits the scallions onto Iwaizumi’s plate, heartened by the simple gesture. He realises that Iwaizumi cares through acts of service, but he stops that train of thought before it goes anywhere.

Their little private bubble is broken when someone calls their names out of the blue.

“Iwaizumi! Oikawa! Why are you being such loners!” one of the guys from the Business faculty shouts, marching up to them in a mission to get them to socialise with people who aren’t each other. “You guys are friends already so you should be mingling with other people! Oikawa, you’re joining my table. Takano!” he yells at a student from another table and exclaims, “Your table looks fun, take Iwaizumi in.”

“Sure!” the other student agrees.

They decide against resisting even though they would truly prefer remaining in each other’s companionship, as that will probably raise suspicion, so they allow themselves to be ushered away. Iwaizumi offers Oikawa a shrug and a look of resignation, which Oikawa returns with a sheepish smile.

They try to enjoy the rest of the evening, giving each other looks across the room when they start playing the Ousama Game and pairs whose numbers are written on wooden sticks distributed to them and called out by the Ousama (or King) complete entertaining or embarrassing dares. Iwaizumi and Oikawa are fortunate enough not to be picked and they hope the luck continues because they do not want to be dared to feed someone else parfait or do the tango with a stranger, even if they’re all in light-hearted fun.

As the game goes on, Oikawa finds time to check his messages and notices that his friend has replied to his question on what the event he’s attending is.

kaijuno4: dont laugh
kaijuno4: its a mixer

Oikawa’s eyes widen and his back straightens in surprise. What kind of surreal coincidence is it for them to both be a mixer? He holds his phone with two hands, ready to tell him about this strange happening with a ‘me too!’ but the next replies come in succession.

kaijuno4: tbh its not as bad as i thought
kaijuno4: look at this
kaijuno4: [video sent] 

The video thumbnail looks uncannily familiar and when Oikawa presses play, the scene that unfolds makes him doubt his eyes because unmistakably, that is the same room he is in, and the two people doing the tango in the video are Haru and Sayuri, who are right before his eyes, their routine in a mess but filled with laughter.

Oikawa’s gaze shoots up and zeroes in on where the sender would be based on the angle the video was taken. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, practically everyone is absorbed with the pair dancing with no real rhythm in the middle of the room, but then his eyes land on Iwaizumi who, unlike the rest, has his head down, phone in his hands, and seems to be smiling at the screen.

The sight forces Oikawa to blink in disbelief because there is no imaginable way that what he thinks is happening is actually happening, his mouth hanging open as he stares at Iwaizumi typing away. Yet, as Iwaizumi’s fingers tap at his phone, Oikawa watches the messages float into his screen.

kaijuno4: the others are trying to matchmake them and i think its working
kaijuno4: i also met someone i know
kaijuno4: the guy i had to work with for an assignment
kaijuno4: never thought i’d see him at a mixer
kaijuno4: u been to one before?

Now whatever lingering doubts he has are ground to dust. If he’s at the same place, watching the same scene, talking about the same experience, then the person Oikawa has known as kaijuno4 is none other than Iwaizumi Hajime.

The discovery makes his mind go blank.

Oikawa stares at his phone, scrolling through his conversation with a certain kaiju fan with no real aim, still in a state of disbelief since the revelation on Friday. He’s in class before Iwaizumi is, which is a relief because he probably would not know how to act like a normal person with the knowledge that the person he’s been sharing jokes and secrets with for the past couple of months is the classmate he’s had a rough start with but grown to like hanging over his head.

He’s good at pretending but this is a first. He’s going to have to pretend that he doesn’t know Iwaizumi is a huge kaiju nerd who would argue with a stranger on the Internet, that one of his most embarrassing moments is of him puking at a Godzilla theme park and it was before he got onto a ride because he’d been so excited, and that his greatest fear is helplessness.

It dawns on Oikawa that Iwaizumi would know the same things about him and he drops his head in mortification. He’s really glad he’s early so he won’t need to explain his weird behaviour to people like Matsukawa and Hanamaki. This shall be a lesson in not being so forthcoming with strangers he meets online. If Iwaizumi ever finds out his identity, he’ll be able to put a face to his unglamourous secrets and vulnerabilities. Oikawa has qualms about confronting that reality.

Oikawa groans inwardly. How did he miss all the clues? He’s seen a Godzilla keychain on Iwaizumi’s bag but he assumed he’s one of the national icon’s millions of fans. Having read their messages over and over, he realises there have been signs scattered throughout their conversations—uncanny similarities in their experiences and the way they talk. It’s a miracle they didn’t give themselves away earlier when all it took was for one of them to let out a tiny incriminating detail.

Speaking of which, Iwaizumi said he’s interested in him, or at least, in the online version of him. It’s not as if he has a starkly different persona online, but they only got to know each other better recently, so he’s not sure if Iwaizumi will like real-life Oikawa too. What if Iwaizumi only likes the online version of him and real-life Oikawa is simply a friend, or worse, too much to handle? Finding out they’re the same person would be such a disappointing reality. Oikawa lets the thought fester in his mind that he doesn’t sense a presence coming up behind him.

“Hey,” the presence says, causing Oikawa to jump in his skin and yelp. Iwaizumi slides into the seat next to him (yes, they sit next to each other now) and gives him an odd look, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You surprised me, that’s all,” Oikawa shrugs it off and hastily moves his phone to the other side before Iwaizumi notices a familiar conversation behind the screen.

“What are you looking at?” Iwaizumi asks as he retrieves his class notes from his bag. “You seemed so engrossed.”

“Nothing. Just memes,” Oikawa lies a little too quickly. He resolutely keeps his gaze away and fiddles aimlessly with his stationery, earning him a doubtful expression from his seat partner.

“Okay,” Iwaizumi says instead. “You feel better?”

“Huh?” Oikawa blinks, not following the abrupt switch in topic.

“You left early on Friday.”

“Oh! Yeah,” The memory of his premature departure after being struck dumb by the Big Discovery that couldn’t have come at a worst time comes back to him. Oikawa smiles nervously and conjures a reason, “Must have been the food,” which is a flimsy reason because they all ate the same food. “I feel better now, thanks.”

“That’s good. You missed quite a bit when you left,” Iwaizumi fills him in. “Things got a little crazy after that. I think they seriously managed to matchmake Haru and Sayuri. They were sticking to each other for the rest of the night.”

Oikawa already knew that, but through online Iwaizumi who so nicely gave him a conclusion to the video that started and ended everything. He successfully keeps a straight face as he remarks, “They’re cute. Good for them,” and once he knows a little, he wants to know a lot, so he asks, “What about you? Met anyone else interesting?”

“A few of us exchanged numbers but it’s just as friends, you know,” Iwaizumi feels the need to clarify for some reason.

Oikawa can’t help but ask, “Because you’re already interested in someone, right?”

“I guess you could say that.”

Iwaizumi is well aware of who Oikawa thinks it is, and if he has someone else in mind, he’s not about to volunteer that information, but the joke’s on him because they are one and the same. Oikawa, on the other hand, having the privilege (or burden) of knowing, finds an opportunity to dig for information that could hopefully quell his fretting.

“How did you meet them anyway?” he wonders, and when Iwaizumi fixes him with a wary stare, Oikawa promises, “I won’t laugh.”

Though reluctant and not quite convinced, Iwaizumi eventually reveals, “I met them online. That’s why I said it’s not easy for us to meet.”

“But you would?” Oikawa asks, curiosity evident in the tilt of his head.

“I don’t see why not.”

“You’re not afraid that they’re not who you think they are?”

“Like if they’re a serial killer or part of the yakuza?” Iwaizumi suggests, reciting it from memory.

“No!” Oikawa exclaims, cheeks growing warm from embarrassment. “I mean if they turn out to be different from what you imagined.”

“I’m sure they are, to some extent,” Iwaizumi counters matter-of-factly. “But I’d like to think that they’ve been more honest than not. Besides, it’s the same for me. I could be different from what they imagined I’d be. But I’ll never know if we never meet.”

He has no clue how right he is; the image that Oikawa had in his head of his online companion is different, and he certainly did not imagine him to be Iwaizumi Hajime of the 126 million people in Japan or the 14 million people in Tokyo. But at least Oikawa likes him either way. He doesn’t know if Iwaizumi likes him that way; Iwaizumi is sweet beyond the gruff exterior and blunt words but that’s a part of his personality and Oikawa isn’t daring enough to claim that it’s out of fondness. To Iwaizumi’s opinion, he mutters under his breath, “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

For a fleeting moment, Iwaizumi wonders if Oikawa made a snarky remark. Is it weird, after all? To be interested in someone you met over the Internet? Iwaizumi believes that meaningful connections can be made through words, even if you don’t know what the other side looks like. Shaking it off, he asks Oikawa something he’s been meaning to for a while, “Anyway, we should celebrate having submitted our assignment. There’s a café that opened recently in the Arts & Design faculty. We could check it out.”

If Oikawa were in any other circumstances, he would have taken Iwaizumi up on that offer, but he knows he’s acting weird and he will continue to be weird and he doesn’t want to give himself away. He needs to get a grip before he’s ready to see where that road leads to, so he says, awkward, “Um, I have a test coming up that I should really study for. Maybe we can think about it if our assignment gets an ‘A’ or something.”

Iwaizumi must say he didn’t expect to be turned down. He thought he had it in the bag, but he’s now realising that perhaps he’s been presumptuous and read the whole thing wrongly. It’s not a good feeling, even if he tries to laugh it off.

“Yeah, of course,” he says as normally as he can manage.

A couple of days later and Oikawa has yet to find a solution to his predicament. He’s thought about it—a lot in fact—but all that thinking didn’t lead him to a conclusion. He’s under no delusion that he can keep this up forever, and a part of him knows he has to simply face it, but that part is half in the shadows and terribly reluctant.

As if it isn’t agonising enough to see Iwaizumi in class, Oikawa has the luxury of bumping into him in another stroke of coincidence on the train. He’s minding his own business, a little tired after the day’s practice, when he catches sight of a familiar figure in the very next train car, and suddenly he forgets about his weariness, back straightening and neck straining to make sure his eyes aren’t tricking him.

True enough, it’s Iwaizumi a.k.a. kaijuno4 on the same train, sitting with his backpack in his lap, and Oikawa has a split-second dilemma about whether he should approach him or not, but his attention switches to witnessing Iwaizumi stand up to offer his seat to a pregnant lady who boarded the train—no flair or insistence, just a quiet bow before he stands off to the side and occupies himself with his phone.

Oikawa is reminded that at times, beauty is a matter of simple gestures. It seems as if the universe is trying to tell him something and Oikawa gives in to the whisper, but in his own stubborn way. He stays where he is but pulls up their conversation, which he had left as read in a spell of uncertainty, and starts to type. Through the window, he peeks at Iwaizumi, who doesn’t keep him waiting.

ventura_ventura: hey
ventura_ventura: sorry for the late replies!!
ventura_ventura: been busy lately
kaijuno4: dont worry about it
kaijuno4: rough week?
ventura_ventura: u can say that something unexpected happened
ventura_ventura: but im dealing with it
ventura_ventura: kind of
kaijuno4: kind of?
ventura_ventura: mmmmm i found out something that made things impossible to go back to the way they were
ventura_ventura: its not as bad as it sounds

Oikawa tacks on that last message to downplay the gravity of his words. He doesn’t intend for it to come off so seriously, but it’s hard to say what’s going on without actually saying what’s going on. He hopes it doesn’t alarm Iwaizumi (it would be a pain to dodge more questions), and fortunately for him, Iwaizumi’s reply isn’t prying but light-hearted.

kaijuno4: like how u can easily remove the leaves off a strawberry with a straw?
ventura_ventura: u can???
kaijuno4: yeah just stick it from the bottom
kaijuno4: lemme see if i can find a picture
kaijuno4: [gif sent]
ventura_ventura: life hack!!
kaijuno4: ikr?
kaijuno4: i like strawberries but hate those bits so when i found out, it changed me
ventura_ventura: i cant tell if u’re being serious or joking
kaijuno4: im serious
kaijuno4: whats the point in sticking to peeling off the leaves which takes forever?
kaijuno4: its a life hack so obviously im gonna use it
kaijuno4: never looked back since
ventura_ventura: sounds like u’re giving me a life lesson lol
kaijuno4: im sure whatever u’re going through is not as trivial as that so if u need to talk to anyone, im here
ventura_ventura: thanks :’)
ventura_ventura: but things happened not in a bad way
ventura_ventura: just in a confusing way
ventura_ventura: im still figuring it out
ventura_ventura: i appreciate this tho

This is okay. He can still talk to Iwaizumi normally. The asymmetry of information keeps him on his toes but everything is the same if he keeps it together. Be that as it may, Oikawa fails to consider that Iwaizumi is sharper than most.

kaijuno4: are u sure u’re okay?
kaijuno4: you havent used a single kaomoji
kaijuno4: i feel like im talking to a blank face
ventura_ventura: u mean u can imagine my face when i use kaomojis?
kaijuno4: remember that doodle i drew of u?
kaijuno4: i just paste the kaomoji on it and imagine that as yr face
ventura_ventura: lololol whats up with that!
kaijuno4: im kidding

Oikawa looks over in time to catch the barest smile on Iwaizumi’s face, the kind that’s small but reaches all the way up to one’s eyes. He wonders if Iwaizumi would smile like that, tiny and almost shy, if he knew he was talking to Oikawa. But that’s the thing isn’t it, Oikawa remembers Iwaizumi’s words in a bout of clarity— I’ll never know if we never meet —yet here he is, hiding behind a screen.

kaijuno4: u just sound a little off
kaijuno4: like u’re holding back?
kaijuno4: idk it sounds that way to me but maybe im reading too much into it
ventura_ventura: u can tell just by how i use kaomojis?
kaijuno4: its kinda the only thing i have to go on
kaijuno4: its not like i have any other points of reference

And he reads it with impeccable accuracy. Oikawa doesn’t realise that he’s been giving that impression. It’s subtle and Iwaizumi deserves credit for picking up on it.

In this weird limbo, Oikawa’s not lying, but he’s tired of hiding the truth. He’s been unapologetically himself with the online version of Iwaizumi, and it’s always a comfort. It would be a shame to lose that all together. Like this, he’s only delaying the inevitable and the longer he drags it out, the more awkward it’s going to be.

Iwaizumi was right, there’s no point in looking back. Things have already changed irreversibly so there’s no reason to dwell in this ambiguous state except out of apprehension. Besides, Iwaizumi’s a nice guy. At worst, his feelings aren’t returned, but Oikawa’s quite sure they can stay as friends, and if that happens, he can put this all behind him and laugh about it in the future and maybe even use it as material to prove that his life isn’t all about volleyball.

But there’s no use imaging the consequences. He’ll have to get there first. Before he can falter again, Oikawa lets his fingers do the work.

ventura_ventura: then lets meet
ventura_ventura: its like the only thing we dont know about each other are our names and faces so lets find out
ventura_ventura: if u want

Iwaizumi’s response doesn’t come as quickly and Oikawa doesn’t dare to check his reaction, because even though he gathered the wits to do this, it doesn’t make it any less nerve-wrecking. What if his chance has passed him by? What if Iwaizumi rejects him before anything can start? That would be—

kaijuno4: okay
kaijuno4: just tell me where and when

Oikawa releases the breath he was holding.

ventura_ventura: i’ll let you know
ventura_ventura: ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ

With a strange mix of nervousness and hope, he heads over to Iwaizumi’s train car since he’s not a creepy stalker who watches people they recognise without going up to say hi. Iwaizumi’s eyes are still glued to his phone and he only notices Oikawa’s presence when he taps him on the shoulder with a soft, “Hi Iwa-chan,” and a genuine smile.

“Oikawa,” he breathes out, pleasant surprise crossing his features before it’s replaced with a hint of amusement as he asks, “Why do we always meet in random places?”

In his mind, Oikawa thinks that Iwaizumi truly has no idea. Out loud, he says, “You tell me.”

Iwaizumi fiddles with his drink straw in a private booth tucked in a corner of a full but not crowded cafe. The fact that such a public place was chosen as the meeting spot should be a good sign, though Iwaizumi’s not worried about who’s going to show up, but whether anyone will show up or what happens after they do.

He won’t deny that he’s a bit anxious about finally meeting his forum friend, to the point he’s earlier than he needs to be, and he prays this won’t be one of those unfortunate situations where real-life dynamics are a far cry from the online one. He doubts he has the social dexterity to deal with that kind of awkwardness.

Iwaizumi’s not left alone with his nervousness for long when a familiar voice reaches him.

“Waiting for someone?” he hears before he looks up to see Oikawa, which is a scene that has happened way too often for him to be surprised but he still is.

“Hey,” he greets automatically. “What are you doing here?” Iwaizumi finds that it’s a common question between the two of them.

Oikawa, who’s dressed in a simple cotton tee under a thick black cardigan, and slim-fit jeans, answers easily, like bumping into Iwaizumi in yet another chance encounter is run-of-the-mill, “I’m meeting someone. You too?” (It’s hardly by chance, but at least he’s not lying.)

“Yeah…” Iwaizumi says, slightly amazed at how unperturbed Oikawa is. He doesn’t get a chance to resist as Oikawa slides into the booth and suggests with a smile, “Then let’s wait together.”

“What?” Iwaizumi’s mind finally catches up to what’s happening and what he’s actually here for. Oikawa can’t stay, so he protests, “Wait—”

But the setter dismisses it with a wave, lilting, “It’s fine, isn’t it? Your friend isn’t here yet. Mine too, so we can keep each other company before they arrive.” Oikawa looks so comfortable in his seat, with his back pressed against the cushion and shoulders relaxed, that Iwaizumi doesn’t believe he’ll leave, and it’s a harmless suggestion as long as he doesn’t stay too long. In his brief hesitation, Oikawa comments, “You look nice.”

Iwaizumi has a cream-coloured hoodie on, topped with an army green jacket and paired with black pants. It’s nothing fancy; he’s a practical guy and never one to go for aesthetics, but he did put extra thought into his outfit today, and he might have done something with his hair.

“Um, thanks,” he says and pulls his drink towards himself but doesn’t take a sip. “Who are you meeting?”

“A friend. You?”

Oikawa isn’t sure where this conversation is headed. He’s imagined it in his mind countless times but they always got out of hand and he didn’t reach a satisfying ending so he decided to wing it instead. All he knows is that he’s supposed to pretend and crosses his fingers that even if he doesn’t have to hide the truth anymore, he doesn’t end up driving Iwaizumi away.

“A friend too,” Iwaizumi parrots after a short pause but that, and the way he blinks away, are enough to raise Oikawa’s brow.

“You’re really bad at lying, you know?” he remarks purposefully.

“I’m not lying,” Iwaizumi insists. He seems to consider if he should explain, tongue peeking out to wet his lips, and eventually relents, “It’s the person I told you about. The one I met online.” There’s a light blush on his cheeks and Oikawa realises that he’s shy, whether it’s because he revealed something personal or the whole thing resembles a blind date, Oikawa finds it adorable.

“You’re finally meeting,” he remarks simply.

“Yeah.”

Iwaizumi must really be nervous if he doesn’t notice that Oikawa had given up an opportunity to tease him.

“Are you nervous?” he asks anyway.

“A little,” Iwaizumi shrugs, hoping that if he acts cool, he will be. Admittedly, talking to Oikawa is slowly helping him to be at ease. “I just hope it won’t be awkward.”

“You’ll be fine,” Oikawa assures. Even if it turns out that way, it’s no fault of his. In an attempt to lead the conversation, Oikawa starts coolly, “Hey. Don’t you think it’s funny how we keep running into each other?”

“I guess,” Iwaizumi agrees, then narrows his eyes, leans forward to rest an elbow on the table and asks, “Are you stalking me?”

“Maybe you’re stalking me?” Oikawa retorts quickly.

“Deflection isn’t a very convincing tactic,” Iwaizumi fires back, feeling their usual banter returning.

“So is evasion,” Oikawa answers as easily. “But really, how does this keep happening?”

“We have a lot of coincidences.”

“True. What if this isn’t a coincidence though?” he remarks in a tone that belies his carefulness.

“Huh?”

“Us being here. What if we’re supposed to be here?” Oikawa explains, but it does little to dispel Iwaizumi’s confusion, visible from the crease between his eyebrows.

“What are you talking about?” Iwaizumi wonders but shakes his head, like he remembers what he’s supposed to be here for, which is decidedly not to chat with Oikawa no matter how easily he falls into it. “Never mind, my friend’s going to be here any minute. You should go.”

“But he isn’t. There’s no rush.”

“It’s weird if you’re here when he arrives so you should get going,” Iwaizumi says, frowning at Oikawa’s persistence. “Aren’t you meeting someone too?”

“He’s going to be late. Seems like yours is too.”

“He’s on his way,” Iwaizumi tells him, recalling the last message he received—literally an “im on my way!” with a smiley face sent eleven minutes ago.

Not eager to drag things out any longer and save himself from being on edge all the time, Oikawa proposes, “Maybe you should give him a call.”

“What? No,” Iwaizumi balks at the piece of advice. “I’m not going to call him.”

“Why not?”

Iwaizumi makes a noise that suggests he finds the question bizarre, and the advice itself for that matter, and says, “I don’t want to look like I’m impatient. Or stress him out.”

Oikawa’s the one who’s impatient. After days of agonising over how he should deal with this one-in-a-million predicament and finally putting his foot down to let the cat out of the bag, it’s Iwaizumi who is hindering him because apparently, he’s too thoughtful.

“You won’t,” Oikawa insists.

“How would you know?”

“I just do.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Oikawa resists the urge to sigh.

“A call won’t hurt.”

It launches Iwaizumi into a mini spiel as he tries to make Oikawa understand why that is Not a good idea, “I’ve never even talked to him on the phone before. He’s going to be weirded out if I call him out of the blue. And it won’t end well whatever happens. If he’s really on his way, then I’ll look like a fool. If he’s standing me up, I’ll still look like a fool. So—”

The phone that vibrates on the table catches both their attention, but it’s Iwaizumi who gawks at it in disbelief when he reads the username on the screen. Darting his gaze back at Oikawa, whose deliberately calm demeanour is a stark contrast to his dumbfounded expression, Iwaizumi can only state the obvious, “He’s calling me.”

Oikawa glances at his phone in mock surprise and asks, “Well? Aren’t you going to pick it up?” making it a point to keep his hands out of sight.

Iwaizumi takes his phone but doesn’t answer it yet. Instead, he stares at Oikawa in a silent question and upon understanding that for some strange reason he’s not leaving, Iwaizumi angles his body away for a modicum of privacy and finally picks up the call.

A hint of uncertainty colours his voice when he speaks, “Hello?” Funnily enough, he thinks he hears it through the call but he can’t be sure because he also hears his heartbeat in his ears. There’s no response from the other side so Iwaizumi asks again, frowning, “Hello? Are you there?”

There’s a pause, until—“Yeah, I’m here”—and his voice is too clear and echoes back at him, it makes Iwaizumi straighten in surprise. He listens carefully as the voice says, still as close and perhaps even clearer, “I’ve been here for the past five minutes.”

If hearing a double voice isn’t weird enough, that statement itself sure is. Purely out of reflex, he swivels to face Oikawa, and reels back at the sight of Oikawa holding his phone to his ear, locking eyes with him in apprehension. They stare at each other for a wordless moment that stretches, Iwaizumi with wide eyes and Oikawa with an inscrutable gaze, until it dawns upon him why Oikawa’s there and why he said this isn’t a coincidence. Iwaizumi has his words snatched out of him as he splutters, a finger pointing to himself then to Oikawa and back, “Wha—you—are you—?”

He’s offered a simple nod. To drive the message home, Oikawa turns his phone towards Iwaizumi, showing him the call screen with someone who shares the same username as he does on the same messaging app they use, and ends the call. The line on Iwaizumi’s phone goes dead and with that one action, his doubts are wiped clean.

“Surprise…” Oikawa mutters and forces a smile.

“ You’re him?? He’s you??? ” Iwaizumi asks after finding his tongue, all the tension compressed into the words as he tries his damnedest to keep his voice down. “Is this a prank?”

Oikawa shakes his head firmly.

“Not a prank. I wouldn’t do that.”

“ How? ”

It’s a vague question and there are a dozen ways the full question could be, so Oikawa takes the liberty to interpret it.

“How did I know the person I’ve been talking to online is you?” he offers. “It was an accident. You sent me this video.” He taps into the media tab and brings up the clip of that night at the mixer as proof. Iwaizumi watches it in silence, knowing how it ended but not how it had unfolded a whole other episode across the room in the same breath. Halfway through the video, Oikawa retracts his phone because the rest is history and says, “You gave yourself away, Iwa-chan.”

“You knew all this time?” Iwaizumi asks rhetorically and is met with a slightly guilty expression. Thinking back, it explains a few peculiarities. “That’s why you weren’t really being yourself,” he says, recounting the night when Oikawa left the mixer early because of a stomach ache when they all had the same food and why he asked all those questions the day after.

“I didn’t know what to do when I found out. I mean, I could never have imagined it’d be you of all people. But I couldn’t keep hiding it forever. Eventually, I had to come clean. So here we are,” Oikawa explains. He wishes he had ordered a drink, so he would have something to occupy his jittery hands with. Despite being afraid of the answer, he dares to ask, “Disappointed?”

Iwaizumi startles at the question and makes a face, like it has personally offended him.

“Why the hell would I be disappointed?” he demands, and it comes out a little too harsh, but really, he’s only taken aback by the absurdity of the question because it misses the truth by an entire orbit.

“Because it turned out to be me?” Oikawa says tentatively.

“That’d make me shocked, sure, but not disappointed.”

“But you said you were interested in online-me, not me-me.”

Iwaizumi buries his face in his hand at the sound of that. The memory of that confession, uttered in a spur of the moment, puts a blush on his face and he murmurs, “I can’t believe I told you that.”

“In your defence, you didn’t know, and if it makes you feel better, I didn’t either. Not at that point,” Oikawa sympathises.

“It’s still embarrassing.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Oikawa assures. He’s gone this far, laid out the whole truth to let nature take its course, so what’s another one to put into words? “I was interested in you too, you know. The difference is that I like online-you, but I also like you-you.”

Iwaizumi looks at him in surprise, not expecting such an open confession so easily, and Oikawa simply meets his gaze honestly. Short of offering a confession of his own, Iwaizumi tells him, “We’re not that different then.”

Oikawa tilts his head curiously, processing the words, and comes to a halting conclusion.

“Are you saying…?”

“Yeah. I’ve always liked talking to online-you, not so much you-you at first, but I guess that changed.”

It’s not as frank as Oikawa’s, but it gets the point across. Iwaizumi never anticipated the possibility of liking his classmate, given how their interactions started, but life has a strange, almost rebellious, way of proving one wrong, and Iwaizumi must say, he stands corrected. Oikawa is attractive and smart and he is devotion personified—not the epitome of it—because he’s not perfect, but real, with all the flaws and struggles that devotion comes with, and Iwaizumi has, quite unknowingly, grown to like him.

“So we’re both the same,” Oikawa states, a smile playing on the corners of his lips.

Iwaizumi nods, “Another coincidence.”

With his usual confidence coming back to him, Oikawa scoots towards the table and quips, “I’m beginning to think it’s not coincidence, but fate.”

Iwaizumi snorts, amused and endeared, “Don’t get all cheesy.”

“Tell me I’m wrong then.”

Considering the assignment they were paired up for, the game they played and attended, the mixer, their one-off meeting on the train, and discovering they’ve been talking to each other online the entire time, Iwaizumi can’t say he is.

“Maybe you’re not,” he admits.

Smiling even wider, Oikawa asks, “I suppose this is our first date?”

Iwaizumi laughs shortly through his nose.

“I suppose it is,” he agrees.

To meet someone in two places and still come to one conclusion (with all the little instances of fate in between) is a wonder, the odds of which he’d like to know.

epilogue.

toru: hajimeeee
toru: can u bring me a snack pls?

Oikawa sets his phone on the nightstand after sending that text message to his boyfriend, who’s merely a short distance away in the same apartment, but since he’s most probably already in the kitchen and Oikawa’s in the room, he thought he could save himself the trouble. Besides, snacks (or anything) taste better when it’s made by Iwaizumi.

Dating the sports science major has been interesting to say the least. It comes with its perks, like home-cooked food, massages for his tired muscles after an intense week of training, and well-meaning advice meant for him only.

They still argue sometimes, because two people don’t miraculously stop having differences once they get together, but it’s those differences that allow them to complement each other. Iwaizumi is patient where Oikawa is wilful, he’s assuring where Oikawa falters, and Oikawas has never felt so loved.

This weekend, he’s staying over at Iwaizumi’s. His apartment is bigger, since he shares it with two others, one of them away at a training camp and another at his girlfriend’s house. Oikawa’s lounging on Iwaizumi’s bed, back against a pillow and his laptop on one as he checks out a recommended video on the top 10 most intelligent characters in sci-fi movies. He looks away from it to check his phone and realises that Iwaizumi has left him on read.

Pouting, he picks up his phone again.

toru: are u ignoring me? o(>< )o

“I’m not ignoring you,” Iwaizumi says as he enters the room with a plate of tamago sando he fixed after he saw Oikawa’s message while cleaning up in the kitchen. “Here’s your snack,” he adds, putting it on his desk.

“Thank you,” Oikawa sing-songs appreciatively and wiggles his toes.

“Don’t eat it on my bed,” Iwaizumi tells him.

“I won’t,” Oikawa promises. The sandwich sits invitingly on the plate and he just knows that Iwaizumi had put in effort for such a simple request, the way he puts a lot of care into the little things, which never fails to make Oikawa’s chest brim with the biggest feelings, and tonight's no exception. He puts away his laptop and beckons to Iwaizumi, “Come over here,” scooting over to sit on the edge of the bed.

Curious but not resisting, Iwaizumi approaches the bed and takes Oikawa’s outstretched hand.

“Are you busy?” Oikawa asks, opening his legs for Iwaizumi to stand in between.

“No,” he says languidly. It’s a Friday night and he’s winding down for the weekend. With Oikawa’s hands on his hips, Iwaizumi cards his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair and starts to play with it, repeating the motion and grazing his fingertips across his scalp.

It drags out a pleased hum from the back of Oikawa’s throat as he drops his head in satisfaction, forehead pressed into the firm muscle of Iwaizumi’s torso, and slips his fingers under his shirt to rub circles over his hips.

“I was thinking,” he starts with a sigh, “let’s go out tomorrow.”

“I thought you wanted to stay in?”

“I changed my mind,” Oikawa says, now bunching the hem of Iwaizumi’s shirt to expose his abs so that he can ghost his lips over the hard lines. The gesture makes Iwaizumi flex instinctively. Oikawa smiles and adds, “I want to go on a date. We can watch a movie.”

Iwaizumi has an inkling it’s that sci-fi thriller that came out a couple of weeks ago, which they don’t have to watch separately and tell each other what they think over messages anymore.

“Okay,” Iwaizumi agrees. They can decide on the details later. For now, Iwaizumi is distracted by Oikawa’s lips that tickle where they meet his skin, and if he lets this continue, they won’t be done for quite a while. Reminding Oikawa of the sandwich waiting for him, he asks, “Aren’t you going to eat your snack?”

“I am,” Oikawa teases and nibbles on his abs for good measure.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes in amusement.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’ll have it later. It’ll still be there.”

“So will I,” Iwaizumi points out, playing along.

Oikawa snickers and leans back to look at Iwaizumi to say in a lowered voice, “But I want to have you now.”

Not one to deny such an easy request, and one he’d undeniably benefit from, Iwaizumi indulges him, lifting a knee and resting it on the bed at Oikawa’s side, the movement pushing him backwards until his back meets the sheets.