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yusuke-of-valla · 1 year

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Whumptober Day 2: Good Friends And Good Food

AO3

The second Wednesday of the month usually marks the time where people pack their own lunches and avoid the cafeteria, on account of the head chef having free reign on that day to try her “experimental” dishes.

(To the chef’s credit, she’s been at the school for 50 years and is otherwise a talented cook when she doesn’t get the urge to experiment and is just about the sweetest woman ever, so no one has the heart to tell her everyone’s taken to calling her original concoctions Mystery Food X after a teacher slipped up and called it that.)

There are very few exceptions, one of them being Yusuke, who’s diet of generally anything he can find that’s edible has left him with an iron stomach.

As such, Yusuke’s a little surprised to see someone else there when he gets to the cafeteria.

“Oh, hello! Did I miss something?” A girl with close-cropped white hair asks. “No one else is here.”

“No, most people just avoid the cafeteria on these days,” Yusuke explains. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you one of the Italian exchange students?”

“Yes!” she says, sticking out her hand. “Maria Lucrezia Fiore.”

Yusuke opens his mouth to speak but she keeps going.

“And it’s either Maria Lucrezia or just Lucrezia, I never go by Maria, that’s my oldest sister. She’s Maria Teresa but she goes by Maria, my second oldest is Maria Alessia, my younger sister is Maria Sofia, we’re all Marias, so only Maria Teresa answers to Maria.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yusuke says. “I’m Yusuke Kitagawa, a third year student in the art department. You?”

“Art as well, though I’m with the second years.”

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Fiore-san.”

“Please, call me Maria Lucrezia at least.”

“If you insist. Are you in the joint art show?”

While the Italian students were at Kosei, they were challenged to try a painting inspired by a Japanese artist, while the Japanese students were challenged to try a painting inspired by an Italian artist.

The best pieces from each year were going to be on display in a few weeks, along with some cross-cultural music and poetry reading, at a farewell gala the night before the exchange students leave.

“Yes! You as well?”

Yusuke nods. “I wish I had had more time to touch up the piece, but the professor approved of it anyway so there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Great! I’m excited to see it. Who did you base yours on anyway? I picked Taikan.”

“I decided to go out of my comfort zone and try something inspired by Boccioni.”

“Bella, bella! I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

“Thank you,” Yusuke says.

“Kitagawa-kun!” The head chef says. “Good to see you! And Fiore-san, I’m so happy you’re here! I’m hoping you two can tell me what you think. I want to try and create some fusion cuisine for the gala, so I was hoping to get student feedback.”

The head chef takes them back to the kitchen and plates them… well it looks like sushi. However instead of rice the chef used spaghetti and made a dip for pasta sauce.

Yusuke takes a bite, and is a little caught off that the spaghetti is warm.

But he never turns down free food, so he gobbles it up.

“Ah! Delicious!” Maria Lucrezia says.

“Yes, thank you for the meal,” Yusuke says.

“I’m glad you think so, but do you think the other students will like it?” The head chef asks.

“Probably not,” Yusuke says bluntly. “The consistency is very strange.”

“I think it’s great! It kind of feels like it’s crawling down my throat on it’s own!” Maria Lucrezia says. Then she thinks for a bit, “though my brother thinks all my favorite foods are gross, so I guess I can’t speak for anyone else.”

“Well, thank you for your honesty. I just can’t stand the thought of making regular hors d'oeuvres for the gala! I mean it’s a celebration of two cultures coming together! That should be included in the food.”

“Well Italy and Japan have to have a lot of culinary staples that overlap,” Yusuke suggests. “I mean they’re both more or less surrounded by the ocean, at the very least they have to fish.”

“Yes! Seabass, cod, swordfish!” Maria Lucrezia says. “So maybe you can do sushi the way they’d make it if it originated in Italy! So use orzo instead of rice or something!” She gasps. “Oh or you can make a Japanese Timpano!”

The head chef nods thoughtfully. “Yes, yes, I must consider this. Both of you, out!”

She shoves them out of the kitchen.

“It’s good to see someone passionate about food!” Maria Lucrezia says. “So many people think of it as just something to eat.”

“Well it is,” Yusuke says. “I do agree that it’s nice to take the time to savor your food, but good food made with care isn’t always available.”

Saying that makes Yusuke miss Leblanc. He hasn’t been in awhile.

Futaba’s busy enjoying her school life to the fullest, and Ren’s back home, so neither of them have invited him over and he can’t go on his own. Otherwise he’d be taking advantage of Boss’s hospitality.

His stomach aches for the warm curry, though.

“That’s such a shame.”

Maria Lucrezia’s words shake Yusuke from his thoughts.

“Getting to enjoy food you like is important! It’s a part of being alive, no?”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Yusuke says.

Yusuke stares at the piece he submitted for the Gala. Their teacher is keeping it in her office since too often students will try to edit or touch up already submitted works, but he can see it through the window.

Honestly, he doesn’t know if he wants to touch it up or take the katana he hasn’t touched since February and slice through the canvas.

He’d told his teacher he was inspired by Umberto Boccioni and the Futurist movement, but that was a lie.

In reality futurism happened to be well suited to capturing the spirit of the Phantom Thieves. The futurists had declared:

“We shall sing the great masses shaken with work, pleasure, or rebellion; we shall sing the multicolored and polyphonic tidal waves of revolution in the modern metropolis.”

And how could Yusuke resist?

The form, light, and dynamism of Boccioni’s artwork reminded Yusuke of his friends, who, even outside of the Metaverse, are leaping forward into the future.

And here he is. Still doing the same thing he’s always done.

Everyone’s off trying new things, pushing themselves to grow and be better than they were, and Yusuke doesn’t even know where to start.

He does know he misses them.

But at the same time, he can’t distract them, clinging to them just because he feels lost.

Yusuke doesn’t know how he got volunteered to be on the planning committee for the gala, he just knows he’s here.

Maria Lucrezia’s there too, and she instantly invites him over to sit between her and a boy who must be her brother.

“Ok, so we’ll need to split into groups to do tasks. Since some of you joined late you’ll be assigned, and— Kitagawa and Fiore-san, you’re on flier duty.”

“Huh? But I heard there was an option for arranging the food that was still open!” Maria Lucrezia says.

“You’ll just encourage the chef to get experimental,” her brother says. “Not all of us can eat trash like you two.”

The head of the committee looks sheepish, confirming that it’s exactly as the brother said, and continues on with the assignments.

“I’m sorry for my brother’s rudeness,” Maria Lucrezia whispers. “This is Benito.”

“Hello. Nice to meet you,” Yusuke says, offering his hand.

Benito simply glares at it. “Don’t cause trouble for my sister, alright?”

Maria Lucrezia rolls her eyes. “Yes, yes, very helpful Beni.”

“I’m serious, Lucrezia. I’ve heard about him, he’s the weird one. Think about it, how out there does he have to be to be weird to the eccentrics at this school.”

“I can hear you,” Yusuke says.

“I know.” Benito turns to his sister. “He doesn’t even have any friends despite being about to graduate.”

“I have friends,” Yusuke interjects.

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do, they just all go to other schools.”

Benito rolls his eyes. “You can’t come up with a better lie?”

“Why would that be a lie? There are lots of schools in Tokyo.”

“Sure but if every single one of your friends goes to another school, and no one else has heard of them, that’s a lie.”

“Hifumi Togo’s met one of my friends.”

“Oh, the shogi prodigy?” Benito fake gasps. “You mean the one currently at a tournament in Nagoya and thus can’t verify that you have friends?”

Yusuke rolls his eyes and pulls open his sketchbook. “Think what you will.” What does he care if this random exchange student believes Yusuke’s friends exist?

“We can meet them at the gala!” Maria Lucrezia says. “We’re the Flier Squad! So we’ll make sure they know about it!”

Yusuke blinks. “If they can come.”

Benito scoffs. “Oh sure, they’re all going to be busy, right? How convenient.”

Yusuke’s grip on his notebook tightens. “You never know.”

Yusuke stares at his phone as people walk past him in the underground passageway.

There’s no point in asking Ren, Ann, and Ryuji since they can’t make it out to Tokyo. Futaba, Haru, and Makoto will be around, and maybe it’d be worth asking Sumire as well on the off chance she doesn’t have a gymnastics meet?

He sends a picture of the flier to each of them.

Yusuke: My work is going to be on display, would you like to come?

There. That didn’t sound desperate. He’d hate for them to drop plans to come out of pity.

The task done, he puts his phone in his pocket, and tries to focus on watching the people passing by. Normally he’d work on capturing individual people, but since he’s on a bit of a futurism kick, he tries to capture the movement of the crowd itself, and the leaving, breathing bustling of the subway.

He’s almost in the zone when his phone buzzes, at which point Yusuke practically drops his sketchbook to drop his phone.

4 New Messages.

Yusuke takes a deep breath and checks them

Futaba: Sry, next Friday I’m in a gaming competition. Tell me about it after tho! Is there an award? Kick ass!

Makoto: I’ll be in a study group prepping for a big test, I’m so sorry. Will you send pictures?

Haru: Oh no, I’ll be at a business dinner, you must tell me when the next one is though. I’m sorry!

Sumire : Gah! I’m so sorry Kitagawa-senpai! I’ve got the regional finals that day and I won’t be back until late. I might be able to make it before the end?

Yusuke quickly texts “don’t worry about it” to each of them and leans back against the wall.

Yusuke turns off his phone and slips it back into his pocket. This is fine. It’s not like it’s a show with anything on the line. He’s just showing off a piece that’s already been recognized.

And it’s not like he needs them there to show up some jerk who’ll be back in Italy the next day.

No, he’s being ridiculous. They all have things on the line, he doesn’t. This won’t affect his grade, or his chances of getting into college, or anything.

They have more important things to do because they’re actually taking risks, Yusuke thinks to himself.

Because they’re putting themselves out there and trying things, while Yusuke remains falling back on what he’s always been good at. On what everyone’s always expected him to do.

He’s in place and they’re flying forward.

Yusuke realizes some people are staring at him, and it’s because he’s shaking. He packs up his bag and goes.

No matter how sorry he feels for himself, it doesn’t change the fact that it doesn’t matter his friends can’t come to the gala.

“Please come to Kosei High’s first Biennial Cross Cultural Gala! There will be food, music, and artwork on display!” Maria Lucrezia says.

Every day after school for the last week and a half, Yusuke and Maria Lucrezia have been handing out fliers in different neighborhoods near the school. They really want a large turnout from the local community.

Yusuke’s not sure how many people will actually come, but they have been taking a lot of fliers at least, which is the important part on their end.

“Yo! Inari!” Yusuke turns and spots Futaba running towards him. “Whatcha doing?”

“Handing out fliers,” Yusuke explains, showing her one.

“Oh yeah! The thingie! I’m sure it’ll be cool,” Futaba says. “What’ve you been up to, prepping for this?”

“Yes, pretty much.” We both know I never have anything else to do, is the part Yusuke bites back. He cannot draw his friends into his problems.

“You ok?” Futaba asks. “You eating? Because you’re always welcome at Leblanc.”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” Yusuke says.

“Sakura-san!”

A boy and a girl Yusuke doesn’t recognize run up to Futaba.

“Oh! Hey guys, this is my friend Inari, I told you about him. Inari, this is Aoyagi and Kusanagi, they’re who I’m entering the gaming tournament with. We’re here to practice at the arcade.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Yusuke says. They’re not even wearing Shujin uniforms, so Futaba’s managed to make friends on her own. She never could have done that a year ago.

The swirl of pride in Yusuke’s stomach is weighed down by a tinge of jealousy. Look at how far Futaba’s come, and yet here he is.

“Are you ok?” Futaba asks.

“I’m fine!” He won’t tarnish her moment with his own issues. “I have to keep handing out fliers, I’ll see you around.”

Yusuke runs off before Futaba can say anything, and almost knocks over Maria Lucrezia.

“Oh, there you are, Yusuke-sanpai!”

“Senpai” he corrects her.

“Right, sorry! Senpai. A month in Japan and I’m still not getting it!”

“You speak it fine,” Yusuke says.

“Ah, thanks. I’m… slow at learning things sometimes, you know? I like to take my time.” She sighs, “the next time we come to Japan, I want it to be for longer.”

“Thinking of studying here?” Yusuke asks.

“Perhaps, I don’t know. I’ve lived lots of places, and they’re all so different! I want time to appreciate them all.”

“Oh, you travel around a lot?”

“Yes, though my sisters and I have a bet to see who can go the longest without going to America.”

“Do you travel for your parents' work?”

Maria Lucrezia’s normally cheery demeanor drops for a second. “No, they died a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Yusuke says. “I understand… my mother passed away a long time ago too, and my previous caretaker is out of the picture.”

“You ever get jealous of people complaining about their parents? Like ‘oh no they make me do homework!’”

“Can’t say I do. I suppose it depends on the parent.”

Maria Lucrezia nods. “Yeah, good answer. Beni’s mom…”

“You have different mothers?”

“Yeah. She was a massive fucking cunt, pardon my French.”

“You’re speaking Japanese.”

Maria Lucrezia laughs. “Kitagawa-senpai, you’re so funny! I seriously don’t get why no one hangs out with you!”

Yusuke tries to keep his face neutral, but Maria Lucrezia seems to catch it. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

If he wanted he could take her to the arcade and introduce her to Futaba, but all that would do is grant him some satisfaction at the expense of Futaba’s time with her friends.

“It’s fine,” Yusuke says. “Let’s just get back to work.”

The gala, at least, is a resounding success. Tons of people from the neighborhood come to visit, including some Yusuke suspects who are just here for the free food, which he respects.

The head chef’s fusion cuisine has come out well from the looks of it, everyone seems to be enjoying it and she’s beaming with pride.

Once the final performance finishes, people begin to trickle out, and the head of the planning committee grabs Yusuke aside and asks him to help put away things.

He’s joined by Maria Lucrezia and Benito.

“Shouldn’t you be preparing for your plane ride?” Yusuke asks.

“We’ll be fine,” Maria Lucrezia says.

“I don’t want to leave her alone with you,” Benito adds. “Since your friends didn’t end up showing up after all.”

Yusuke rolls his eyes and pushes past Benito, grabbing several chairs and heading back to the storage closet, Maria Lucrezia following behind.

The door slams shut behind them.

"You'll have to forgive Beni," Maria Lucrezia says. "He's doing his best, even if he can be blunt sometimes."

"I'd like to stop talking about this."

"You know what I think?"

"No,"

"You're a real artist, you know? So many feelings that you're pouring out into the world. And it's killing you that no one can match that. Everything you give you'll never get back because your so-called friends don't care about you as much as you care about them. If you were in their shoes, you'd have noticed if they were upset. You would have been there for them. But then again, they can't. Because you're not their whole world the way they're yours."

"Fiore," Yusuke says sternly. "This is not the time for this conversation."

"You're right, you're right, I need to stop playing with my food."

Suddenly she grabs Yusuke's arm and yanks him downward so they're eye-level. She grabs the back of his head with other hand and to keep him still as she plunges a pair of fangs into his neck.

Yusuke struggles to push her off of him but she's too strong and he's rapidly losing feeling in his arms and legs.

"Senpai," Maria Lucrezia purrs when she stops for a second. "You really are perfect, you know? I mean you could be a bit shorter but your blood's worth the extra effort. Anemics taste so good."

"What... what are you going to do if I die," Yusuke breathes. She's completley supporting his weight right now.

"Oh don't worry about me, I've done this for a long time. I know how to be patient, even when it was killing me. By the time anyone finds your body, we'll be flying back to Italy, at least. Assuming anyone bothers to notice." She pulls his neck close again. "Now be a good boy and let me eat. There are worse things to be than a good meal, you know."

Damn it. If he were Fox, he’d be stronger. Faster. Able to fend her off.

If he were Fox he could summon Goemon and have his weapons.

If he were Fox, the rest of the Phantom Thieves would be with him.

But he’s not Fox right now, he’s just Yusuke, and he’s going to die in the back room of a tiny gallery and no one will be any the wiser.

He feels himself fall to the floor with a thud and he can’t even bring himself to move.

So he just closes his eyes and drifts off.

“I’m sorry guys,” Futaba says as they exit the gaming tournament.

“It’s not your fault. Who would’ve thought another gaming competition would have a print stickers contest,” Kusanagi says.

“And this time we didn’t have anyone good at it…” Aoyagi adds. “Still, there were about 20 teams and we came fourth. That’s not bad. Let’s grab our seats and watch the finals.”

“...Actually, do you mind if I leave early?” Futaba asks. “I might be able to make my friend’s thing still.”

“No, go ahead!” Aoyagi says. “Tell him hi for us, and remember that thing I said about my partner’s sister?”

“Yeah, we gotta set them up on some kind of art playdate or whatever. Inari’d totally love another artist he can actually nerd out with. See ya guys!”

Futaba heads out to the front of the arcade and opens up her phone, texting the group chat.

Futaba: Hey, any of you guys still at Inari’s art thing?

Ren: ?

Futaba: He’s doing an art show with school.

Haru: Give him my regards!

Makoto: Me too.

Sumire: Tell him if he doesn’t mind waiting we can swing past and grab some dessert!

Ann: Aww he didn’t tell us he was doing an art show!

Ryuji: Yeah we coulda at least texted him good luck.

Futaba: I don’t think it's a competition, it’s just a display.

Futaba: …wait.

Futaba: So did everyone in the Tokyo group say they couldn’t make it?

Haru: I can’t.

Makoto: Me neither

Sumire: We’re trying, but we won’t get there before it ends without breaking some traffic laws :(

Futaba: Oh shit… when I saw him last time he looked really bummed about something, is it because none of us could make it?

Ann: When was the last time any of you hung out with him in person?

Haru: That would be, after Sumire-chan’s last meet, right? The victory dinner?

Makoto: That was over a month ago!

Ryuji: Ah shit. I haven’t had a voice chat with him in awhile either.

Ann: Me neither

Ren: Not us.

Futaba: oh noooooo Inari istg if you’ve been all lonely and didn’t want to talk to us.

Futaba: Ok the gallery or whatever isn’t far from here, I’m gonna run over rn.

Makoto: Gonna tell my study group I need a break, I’ll be there ASAP

Ryuji: gl!

Futaba sends a text to Yusuke to say she’s on her way, and sprints/walks over to the gallery.

When she gets there she spots a familiar head of red hair.

“Sumire!” Futaba gasps. “I thought… you’d be…”

“Later?” Sumire finishes. “My aunt was driving and I explained the situation and she, well, broke several traffic laws. But I’m not sure if anyone’s still here.”

“Hold… on…” Futaba says, pulling out her phone. “Yeah… he’s here…”

They follow Futaba’s phone to some storage room, and Futaba pushes it open. “Inari? You– AH!”

There’s a girl with Yusuke’s blood dripping down her chin, and Yusuke slumped over, completely unconscious.

Sumire’s faster than Futaba, and runs over to smack the girl— vampire?!— over the head with her gymnastics bag.

“Hey!” the vampire girl gasps but Sumire keeps going, while Futaba rushes over to check on Yusuke. His pulse is very slow.

The door bursts open again and a dude who looks like the vampire girl runs over and grabs Sumire’s wrist, and she elbows him. Soon the two of them are fighting while vampire girl heads over to Futaba and Yusuke.

Then the door bursts open again.

Makoto’s in the doorway, stares at Futaba holding Yusuke, the vampire girl with blood on her mouth, and the other guy currently wrestling with Sumire, and wastes no time.

She dashes over to the guy wrestling Sumire and throws him off into the path of vampire girl. The dude and the vampire girl look at each other, then turn into bats and fly out the small window.

“What—”

“Vampires! Inari! Hospital!” Futaba gasps, motioning frantically to everything.

Makoto still looks confused, but picks Yusuke up.

“T-take him to my aunt’s car!” Sumire shouts, getting up.

They sprint over, throw Yusuke in the back, and Futaba climbs in while Sumire frantically explains that they have to go to the hospital right now.

Well, Yusuke can’t say he was expecting to wake up, but the smell of antiseptic does make sense.

What’s the most surprising are Futaba, Sumire, and Makoto curled up on various chairs around the room.

Then Haru enters with a mug of coffee.

“Oh good, you’re up!” Haru whispers. “I came over as soon as I heard what happened.”

Yuske’s throat is dry. “Is what happened to the Italian exchange student was a vampire?“

“Yes, apparently.”

“Huh.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Haru asks. “You needed an immediate transfusion with all the blood loss.”

“Tired, I suppose.”

“Then do you… have an insatiable thirst for blood?” Haru asks.

“Um… no?”

“Ok, good. You know there are so many different types of vampires it’s hard to tell how real ones work.” Haru explains. “Ren, Ryuji, Mona-chan, and Ann have been texting info all night.”

“Oh, but Ann has class right now?”

“It’s an emergency,” Haru says simply.

Yusuke feels tears start to drip down his face.

“Huh? Yusuke, what’s wrong?”

“I’m just very happy you all came,” Yusuke says.

“‘Course,” Futaba mutters.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” Yusuke asks.

“Stop worrying about us you big lug,” Futaba yawns. “Anyway, totally thinking we should have a Tokyo gang group chat so we can hang out more.”

Haru nods. “Great idea! I do feel awkward making plans in the main chat when the others can’t come.”

“I have a break from meets for a while, I’d love to hang out. I see Futaba at school all the time, but I’d like to see the rest of you more. “

“We should do something that’s not too strenuous when Yusuke gets out of the hospital,” Makoto adds.

“The arcade? I need to get good at print stickers,” Futaba says.

“Print stickers?” Yusuke asks.

“Ooh! You take pictures in a photo booth and then doodle on them, you’d be great at it, Yusuke!” Sumire says.

“Also I’ve gotta introduce you to this chick, Ena Shinonome, sometime. She’s an art student like you, you can have art friends.”

Yusuke just starts crying harder. “I’d… I’d love all of that.”

Suddenly he has much less to worry about when he can be with his friends.

#alto writes #day 2 #whumptober 2023 #sad art boi hours #yusuke kitagawa #persona 5 #post royal tokyo gang

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songsofadelaide · 7 months

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Invisible String

cw: female reader, fluff, slice of life, friends to lovers, time skips, no use of yn and instead follows my usual naming convention (I use Otome as a placeholder for yn since it means maiden, which pretty much means yn too), some inaccurate depictions of university life and inaccurate details about air travel between two countries. wc: 6k

Instead of finding a quiet place where he could lament his last days in junior high school in peace, Oikawa Tooru found you.

Glimpses of your odd relationship with up-and-coming volleyball superstar Oikawa Tooru, starting from your accidental first meeting to defining the very thing that you have.

Instead of finding a quiet place where he could lament his last days in junior high school in peace, Oikawa Tooru found you.

He entered the Literature Club room in a rush, noting it was probably the first one he reached without bursting into tears over the Kitagawa Daiichi Boys' Volleyball Club's recent loss to Shiratorizawa Junior High. The brunette expected the room to be empty, but there you were, startled by the rattling of the door after being so engrossed in your own writing.

You recognised him as the boys' volleyball club captain and the object of affection of many of your female classmates. However, he was hardly the image of grace and elegance on the court at the moment, especially since his face was all red trying to contain his tears. He was just as startled as you were when he realised he wasn't alone in the room.

Your mother once said it was rude to stare at people who were crying, especially if they were trying to hide their tears, so you lowered your head and returned to your scribbling. The door was shut close and you thought he had left, but he walked to the corner of the room and sat still for a few minutes before finally speaking.

"Please don't tell anyone you saw me here."

You fished for something in your bag and approached him, getting down on your knees so you were face-to-face with him.

"My mother told me it's rude to ask people why they're crying, but I figured there's nothing to lose for the both of us since we're on our last leg of junior high. Whatever it is you're weeping about, I'm pretty sure you did your best," you told him before handing him a pack of pocket tissues. "You have nothing to worry about. We won't be seeing each other afterwards, anyway."

He chuckled at you before finally taking the tissues in your hand. "I guess you're right."

You were right for the most part since your paths rarely crossed after that single encounter. Your last days of junior high school went by smoothly and peacefully. The romance anthology you wrote as part of the Literature Club was warmly received by members and readers, one of whom was the graduated captain of the boys' volleyball club.

After the graduation day ceremony, Oikawa approached you outside the gymnasium with his signature megawatt smile, diploma and flowers in hand and his gakuran swept off all its golden buttons.

"Writer-chan!"

"It's actually Otome," you replied with your name as you turned to face him. "But not that it matters now. Congratulations."

"Of course it does! Congratulations as well!"

He gently snipped the button on the left sleeve of his gakuran and handed it to you. "Thank you, friend, for reaching out to me back then."

Friend, he said. You were practically strangers with a shared secret, but you indulged him, seeing as you won't be seeing him again, after all. You took the single button from his palm with a smile. "You're welcome, friend."

You likened him to the ocean's waves— refreshing, but always coming and going. Waves weren't meant to stay in one place for so long, so you saw no point in needlessly wading in the cool waters.

I don't want to drown, after all, you thought to yourself.

Oikawa had the most bewildered look on his face when you bumped into each other on your first week of senior high school at Aoba Johsai and you knew you looked just as surprised by the encounter.

"It's writer-chan!" He greeted you with his most pleasant smile. "And here I thought we'd never see each other again!"

He made it a point for the two of you to exchange contact details, saying something about how the gods of fate must definitely want you to have something to do with each other. A brooding figure approached from behind him, brows knotted as he pushed the taller boy who still had your cell phone in his hands. You recognised him as Oikawa's wing spiker from Kitagawa Daichi as well as his closest friend.

"The hell are you doing picking up girls in the middle of the hallway, Trashykawa?" Iwaizumi Hajime barked at him, prompting him to hand back your phone to you.

"I'm not picking her up, Iwa-chan! She's from Kitaichi! My friend from the Literature Club!" The taller brunet whined. "Don't mind him, Otome-chan. He probably woke up on the wrong side of the— Ow!"

"You can talk later. We're gonna be late for our tryouts," Iwaizumi stated before nudging him forward on his feet.

"We'll see you around, Otome-chan!" Oikawa waved back at you as they made their way to the school gymnasium. Iwaizumi managed a small nod at you before turning to reprimand the setter for holding them up.

Throughout your high school life, you couldn't count how many times you sharply dismissed the gossip surrounding your odd friendship with the boys' volleyball club setter, who rose to become the team captain in your third year. Oikawa's keen-eyed watchers found him occasionally dropping by the Literature Club for no apparent reason other than to talk to you. Those rumours were quickly shut down when he was spotted with a different girl in his arm— a classmate of yours, the kind of girl you'd want to do things for because of her charming face and personality. You didn't find it that surprising at all. In fact, they looked really good together.

You paid no mind to the fact that he was purposely ignoring you now whenever you passed by each other in the hallways. Not that you ever made the initiative to greet him first, but there were times when you looked at him rather expectantly and he would just avert his gaze. Iwaizumi told you that it wasn't just you Oikawa was avoiding, but basically the whole female student body. You realised that the whole thing was probably orchestrated by his girlfriend.

Typical. He's not one to do things half-heartedly, you thought to yourself. So once again, I'm not surprised.

When you met each other outside of school for the first time in such a long time, you learned to finally grow indifferent to him that you didn't even know what to say to him when he greeted you with one of his dazzling smiles. Oikawa perked up when he spotted you picking up your little sibling, who was one of his students at the local Lil'Tykes Volleyball classes he taught at during his downtime.

"It's Otome-chan!" He called out rather happily, but you coolly turned away and took your younger sibling's hand to make way for home. You heard him choke at your reaction. "O-Otome-chan! Are you ignoring me?!"

"Oh, are we on speaking terms again?" You asked him, pausing on your tracks and merely looking over your shoulder. "Or is it just because we aren't at school?"

Oikawa's young nephew Takeru had dragged your sibling away to practice more tosses with his own volleyball when he realised that his uncle would be held up in a conversation. The tall boy looked rather apologetic before raking a hand through his dark hair. "Ugh. I'm so sorry. I've been a real jerk to you, I know. But there's nothing to worry about now. I—"

"I think the last thing you need right now is a distraction, Oikawa-san," you replied to him, his expression changing once again as you called him by his last name and not how you usually did. "And your girlfriend did a pretty good job clearing your way. It's all right, though. I'm not even a threat to her and yet—"

"We broke up."

"…What?"

Long arms were crossed over his chest now, his immaculately white track jacket crinkling underneath the motion. "W-Well, of course, I won't admit to just anyone that she was the one who ended things because she didn't like how much time I spent playing volleyball. But she should've known that the sport was part of…"

You really didn't pay any more attention to his explanation, but the incredulous look on your face completely gave away your thoughts, because, fuck, the audacity of that bitch—

"I know I should've decided things for myself and I should've listened to Iwa-chan, Mattsun and Makki when they were pointing out all the red flags. Gosh, I still feel so awful about it. I didn't like having to avoid you when there was so much I wanted to talk to you about."

The two of you stood there in silence, the children's laughter and the cool morning breeze filling in the void after he had finished talking.

"Is…" You had grabbed fistfuls of your skirt that was fluttering in the wind, hands shaking as you tried to think of the right words to say. "Is that all?"

"Y-Yeah…" he replied rather uneasily as he saw your fists shuddering rather angrily. He took a step forward toward you and reached out for your balled fists, gently soothing them to loosen your grip before placing one of your palms over his chest rather dramatically. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. And I have to admit, seeing you look at me so indifferently hurts my heart!"

"Wh— Tooru-kun, stop!" You snatched your hand away from his warm grip only for him to pull you closer.

"You called me Tooru-kun! Ah, I'm so happy!" He beamed at you, gently letting you go and finally beckoning his nephew to join him. "Anyway, I won't hold you and your sibling up any longer. Let's talk after club! Bye-bye!"

True to his word, Oikawa arrived at the Literature Club room days later, his boisterous entrance startling you so much that it could only mean he did it on purpose.

"Drama just loves me, doesn't it?" He chuckled, taking a vacant seat to sit across from you like he always does whenever he comes to see you. "And do you never run out of things to write about, Otome-chan?"

"There's always something interesting happening around me," you replied, not even bothering to look up at him after he surprised you just moments ago. He had brought out his cell phone, mindlessly scrolling through his social media since he couldn't think of anything else to ask you. The quiet was finally broken when he placed his phone on your desk, most likely bored stiff and stifled by the silence of the whole club room.

"If we had dated instead, you wouldn't mind me spending most of my time training, isn't that right, Otome-chan?"

You were both shocked by the snapping of your mechanical pencil's lead against your notebook. His eyes widened as you looked up him, red-faced and rendered speechless. You were sure you looked like a fucking doe in the headlights, even more so when you saw his lips quiver to a small delighted smile.

"Wh-What?! D-Don't talk about that kind of stuff, Trashykawa!"

"Did you just hear yourself?! You sound just like Iwa-chan now!" The smile melted into a pout. "Is dating me such a bad idea for you? I'm so hurt, Otome-chan!"

"You should hear yourself! Spouting all this nonsense about d-dating…" you slid your notebook away from you and accidentally nudged his phone off the desk, which you both hurriedly tried to catch, your hands and fingers tangling midair as you caught the object. A sigh left your lips as you straightened your back. "You can let go of me now, Tooru-kun."

"Let me hold you for a bit, Otome-chan," he told you, scooting over much closer to where you sat. "May I?"

"Wait, what do you mean hold—"

Oikawa was six feet tall and surprisingly sturdy despite his elegant, slender appearance. He rested part of his weight on you when he pulled you into an embrace, long arms gently coiling around your waist.

"T-Tooru-kun?" You squeaked at him, slipping your arms under his to return his embrace. "Is everything all right?…"

"Is it unpleasant?" He asked you, his voice reverberating through your chest. You shook your head, your hair brushing against his cheek. "Good. Because I'd like to do this again."

When he finally pulled away, he laughed at your burning face so much that he almost fell off his seat. It took every bit of your energy to kick him out of the Literature Club room, his laughter ringing throughout the school's empty halls.

From then on, you became each other's warm bodies, but nothing more than that. Commitment was something you couldn't ask from each other, too, especially from him, who had a future in the game in the long run. You would be nothing but a distraction. In turn, he worked to make sure your anthologies were well-received by the student body.

Holding onto even the smallest sliver of hope was emotional suicide, but you can't count how many times you had to save yourself from drowning in the coldness of the deep blue sea that was Oikawa Tooru. You didn't even know if you were still breathing after that.

You couldn't help but find the whole thing nostalgic. The red-faced Oikawa finding you scribbling away in the Literature Club room in the wake of their loss to Shiratorizawa just mere months away from high school graduation. He had told you beforehand of his plans to migrate to South America following recommendations by the boys' volleyball club's elderly Coach Irihata and you had congratulated him for it.

Still in his club tracksuit, he made his way to where you were and wordlessly grabbed a seat, observing you in silence before finally speaking.

"I'm not coming back until I've finally become the player I want to be," he stated, sitting across you as you continued your writing. He changed his tone into a more playful one, the kind he used whenever he was teasing people. "Won't you feel even a bit sad that I'll be leaving, Otome-chan?"

The ocean waves once merely splashing at your feet had become a whole tidal wave and it threatened to drown you now.

You paused from your writing and looked up at him. "Shall we grab a drink?"

Most of the students had already left the campus at that time, so you had no trouble walking around school with him. The last thing you wanted was to be seen with him and have your entire relationship questioned when even you had no answers for yourself.

"I won't be sad when you leave, Tooru-kun," you told him, eyes on the setting sun as you sipped on your milk box. "You're pursuing your dreams and I am elated at the prospect of what kind of player you'll be in the future. The world is in your hands. You have only to grasp it now."

On your way back to the Literature Club room, he was chattering about his prospective successors to the volleyball club's captaincy. The two of you ended up leaning on the club window, figures drowned in the colours of dusk as your conversation slowly died out. You stood there in complete silence, a feeling of contentment washing over you as you turned to smile at him.

"I await the day I see you on the world's centre stage."

Oikawa smiled back at you tenderly— a small one he usually reserved for moments such as this. "And I await the day I finally get my hands on a real novel written by you."

"I'm not sure how we'll make that happen since you'll be moving far away," you replied with a chuckle. "I guess we'll figure something out when it's here."

"Thank you, dearest friend," he gave you a short bow, a hand on his chest as he met your gaze again once again. "Because of you, I never lost my heart."

You've seen different parts of him throughout the years you've been called his cherished friend, but you never really had a clue about what was going on in his head even as he laid his words bare. He leaned down and brushed a kiss on your cheek, surprised by the tears that fell from your eyes. You've both come to realise that your emotions betrayed your words and there was nothing you could do to take it back.

I swam too far from the shore, you told yourself that night. It's painful, but at least I know I'm alive.

When graduation day came once again, he had no golden button to give you, just a promise that he would keep in touch with you even as he left Japan. You barely had the chance to talk to him on that day since he was surrounded by his kouhais from the volleyball club, along with other wide-eyed admirers who were keen to get their final presents to him.

"Hey, Otome-chan! Get over here!" You heard him call out to you, beckoning you to come over to where he was. Iwaizumi was holding a mobile phone and was ready to do his best friend a favour. "We need a commemorative photo!"

That same photo sat at your desk in your little studio apartment for years to come.

Oikawa had kept his promise to you and his friends and kept in contact so frequently that you'd mistake him for having so much time in his hands. The calls were sparse, but the messages came nearly every day, even with a 12-hour time difference between the two of you.

When you told him about how you were unable to finish your college degree at Miyagi Gakuin Women's University after the vast collection of anthologies you wrote back in high school was discovered by a local publisher, he called you the soonest he could and asked how you felt.

"As long as you're doing what you love and pursuing what your heart's telling you," you recall him saying with a low voice, one you haven't heard in such a long time that it rendered you to tears. "I'll continue supporting you, Otome-chan. You have all of my support!"

The local publisher was so enamoured with your juvenile work that they asked you to write something completely new for them, assigning one of their best editors to you to keep you grounded as you worked. Somehow you couldn't quite point out if this was one great stroke of good luck or a damn honeytrap you can't walk away from anymore. Yes, you stopped college halfway to start writing novels, just like what you dreamed of before, writing alone in your high school club room. It was happening way too soon.

You were rarely asked to come by to the publishing house, but you were often in contact with your editor, whom you missed a call from since you were making coffee for yourself while working on a new story draft. The last one had just left your hands earlier this week and you didn't expect to hear anything about it for quite a while, so you called him back to confirm if everything was all right.

"Hello, Tatara-san. Is there something wrong?"

"Otome-san, I don't know what to say, to be honest. But, ah, anyway, now isn't the time to lose my composure. I have great news for you."

You nearly dropped your cup of coffee when you heard that your last draft would be published into a book. "Are you for real?!"

The poignant novel you slaved over for days and nights to years, Two Silver Moons, would be published by the end of the year, just in time for Christmas. You would have to be there during the whole process, but the publishing house guaranteed you a break afterwards, unexpectedly given but greatly welcomed. You thought of visiting your family in time for the new year, but you remembered that your parents were out on their own little cruise around the world.

The options you had were pretty close by until you received a reply from Oikawa, who was most likely in the middle of his club training.

[ O. Tooru-選手: I'm so happy for you, Otome-chan! Congratulations! (≧▽≦) ]

You never left Sendai for most of your life, but you took off at the first sign of a break, much to the chagrin of your editor, who helped you update your passport, book your flights and tickets, book the hotel where you would be staying and even mentally prepared you for the different kind of culture you'd experience. Two weeks was long enough, you recall him telling you. You both lamented the fact that you burned out nearly a quarter of what you earned from your first novel's publication for this little excursion of yours, but you figured it was something you could earn back with another book or two.

Your last message to Oikawa was back from the new year. Turning to your wristwatch, you estimated what time it would be in Argentina before determining that you'd receive a reply.

[ YN: Say, how long is a flight from Tokyo to San Juan? ]

[ O. Tooru-選手: You wouldn't want to know. ]

[ YN: But what if I do? ]

[ O. Tooru-選手: Otome-chan! Don't tell me you plan on coming here! (☉∀☉) ]

You laughed to yourself, pulling your luggage close to you as you stood in line at the Narita Airport boarding area, passport and boarding pass in the other hand.

[ YN: I'll see you soon, Tooru-kun. ]

[ O. Tooru-選手: Please, if you're just saying all of this, just stop. You're gonna disappoint me. (ᗒᗩᗕ) ]

[ YN: Have to check in my luggage. I'll message you when I'm in France. ]

[ O. Tooru-選手: Oh my gosh, Otome-chan! If I arrive at Ezeiza Airport and you're not there, you can forget that we're friends! ]

It was only when you got on the plane and had to sit for nearly 13 hours that you realised how far spread out the whole world really is. Sendai was but a speck of dust from your view above the clouds, but it will always be home to you. You brought out your tiny notepad and started scribbling about a flight situation you could incorporate in your next story as you passed the time.

The wait will be worth it, you convinced yourself. I've waited for so long to be able to swim in your presence again. What's another 34 hours in air?

There was a 7-hour layover which quickly passed by for you as you kept yourself engrossed in your writing. Something about Parisian coffee made your heart race a bit quicker than normal and it made all the wheels in your head turn non-stop until you realised you burned through nearly half of your notepad. You pocketed the coffee-stained paper napkins that held more of your writing and folded it neatly enough with shaking fingers to fit it on your tiny notepad. The last hour of the layover was spent freshening up and changing into a new blouse, as well as counting all the tiles your eyes could take in from where you sat. You decided against having coffee in Argentina because of the havoc it wrecked over your body.

[ O. Tooru-選手: Otome-chan, are you about to board your flight to here? Take care and don't forget to stretch around! ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ ]

[ YN: You sent a photo. ]

It was a blurry, crazy, hair-in-face kind of selfie that you usually reserved for your parents and siblings. If there was such a thing as coffee-drunk, it was definitely happening to you. You were glad the caffeine finally died out mid-flight and you spent the remaining seven hours asleep. You practically had no sense of time when you boarded off the plane from France, but your entire being was shaken awake when you spotted the tall setter with a little placard that had your name on it in his hands. Oikawa, who was in a bright red shirt and khaki chino shorts, broke into a smile when he spotted you.

"Yohoo! Otome-chan!"

"T—" You stammered, far too excited to meet his embrace that you ended up slipping face first across the Ezeiza Airport terminal, eliciting shocked gasps from onlookers and people passing by. It took you a solid minute to get up before grumbling to yourself. "Ahh, what the fuck, self?"

Oikawa laughed and everything felt better all of a sudden. He was down on his left knee to check if you were all right. "You seem fine."

"I am!" You told him, finally raising your eyes to meet his gaze. "I'm totally fine."

"Ah, that's good!" He stated, a hand on his chest as he breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, let's go! We have another plane to catch, don't we?"

"Ack! I didn't know that you had to fly here!" You exclaimed apologetically, finally getting up on your feet as he pulled you up with him. "I'll, uh, pay for your next flight! Or something!"

"Don't worry about me, Otome-chan! It's been a while since I've had a visitor here, so I'm rather thrilled! I've been granted a tiny break by my club since you've gone through lengths to see me. For now, let's get some of your yen changed into pesos."

He chuckled to himself as you both stood before the money changer, hearing him comment about how it's been so long since he last saw and held yen in his hands. He looked rather shocked at the amount you brought with you, not entirely sure if he should return the money to you. "Otome-chan! You brought way too much! Are you planning to buy the whole province of San Juan or something?"

"Tatara-san— My editor told me it was better to bring extra than to find myself short on funds," you turned to him, wringing your fingers in worry. "Maybe keep it for me for the meantime?"

"Gladly! Consider me your tour guide, body guard, accountant— what else?" He said thoughtfully, slipping the rolls of Argentine pesos in his tiny body bag before taking your hand in his. "The next time you make a trip like this, at least tell me beforehand. We can always meet halfway instead of you just coming all the way here to see me."

"But it was me who wanted to see you," you replied, looking up at him. He was searching for the Aerolineas Argentinas ticket office.

"All right, so we book same-day flights, two hours to Mendoza Airport, and finally catch a bus to the city. Pretty sure I didn't miss anything," he counted with his fingers. "If my estimates are correct, we'll arrive at around 18:00 to 18:30, just in time to grab some dinner. Or maybe you want some coffee?"

"No coffee," you waved your hand over your face. "Parisian coffee drove me nuts while I was in France. I'd like to be able to sleep later, please."

You were able to sleep during your two-hour flight, your slumber abruptly interrupted when the captain announced your descent to San Juan. Of course you apologised profusely for accidentally drooling on Oikawa's sleeve.

"Ugh. I didn't know you had to travel so far to pick me up from Buenos Aires. I'm so sorry, Tooru-k—"

"Hush now, Otome-chan," he presented your bus tickets to the conductor before pulling you up with him. "If you're really sorry, just promise me we'll have a lot of fun while you're here. And besides, what's a little travelling when I get to spend time with you?"

The five-hour-long bus ride passed by in a flash as Oikawa pointed at every significant landmark he could identify on the road, while you had your tiny notepad in your hands again to jot down shaky phrases, listening closely to how he pronounced the foreign names and words.

You felt like you were floating in the middle of a calm ocean, the afternoon sun beating over your skin as you let yourself be carried away by the waves.

He chose to have dinner at a little place called Soychu, which specialised in vegetarian meals. It was also near the hotel your editor booked for you. Oikawa, who considered this place his home for the last two years, seemed rather amused at the way your head whipped around at every curious sound you heard.

"San Juan isn't as colourful as Buenos Aires, but it has its own charms," he told you, placing a serving of provoleta on your plate. "We'll have a lot of time to explore tomorrow, so you should rest up after such a long flight."

And you were indeed charmed by the city's nightlife— jet lag quickly replaced by sensory overload as you tried to take in everything you laid your eyes on and everything you heard— lights reflecting from the restaurant windows, a cool evening breeze and the odd stranger greeting a friend in a language you had no idea about. Even the restaurant you were in captured your heart in a way you can't put in to words.

"Departamento en San Juan?" You read the booking made by your editor a few weeks back as you stood outside the apartment premises. "Is that right?"

"Yeah, this is it. Wait a moment, I'll confirm your booking," he said as he entered the premises to greet the receptionist. "¡Buenas noche! Mi querida reservo una cuarto…"

You honestly had no idea what he was telling the middle-aged receptionist who gave you a short glance before turning to her log book. His Spanish was really good and you were sure he wasn't selling you out to a murderer, at least, seeing how the lady smiled at you. She turned around to grab the keys to your lodging for the next two weeks and threw out something that sounded like a question. "¿Te quedaras tambien?"

Oikawa chuckled, understanding what it meant. He turned to you with a smile as he was handed the keys. "Ya veremos."

The cream-coloured apartment room had a single king-sized bed in the only bedroom, a wide kitchen space, a clean bathroom with a heated shower and a tiny balcony that overlooked the lighted cobblestone street they walked earlier.

"All right, everything looks good to me," he walked out of the bathroom, which was the last place he checked after making his rounds in the space you'll be living in for the next two weeks. "I'll leave you to rest and unpack, Otome-chan. The Wi-fi password is on the refrigerator. And don't you worry about your money because I won't go running away with it! Message me tomorrow, all right?"

He was just about to take his leave, hand already on the door when you stopped him midway, gently pulling at the hem of his red shirt. "T-Tooru-kun, wait a moment. I… I, uh…"

The words didn't come out easily. You weren't just about ready to part ways with him just yet and you needed to let him know.

"Otome," he started, dropping the honorific from your name for the first time. He raised his hand and brushed cool knuckles over your warm cheek before finally tipping your chin so your eyes would meet. "I don't quite understand what it is you're trying to tell me."

He was teasing you.

I want to drown, your mind screamed at you. I want to drown in you.

"I'm… not really that ready to let you go. I, uh… C-Can you stay here? Just for tonight, i-if it's all right. I just—"

He caught your quivering lips in his as he leaned down to kiss you and you felt all of your resolve crumble so easily just as you did in his arms. You threw your arms around his neck and willed yourself not to shed a single tear now. There was no clumsy fumbling out of your clothes as you were swept away to the bedroom, only the rapid thumping of your heart against his chest and his warm hands all over you— touching you so softly, gently, kindly— making you cry even though you swore to yourself that you wouldn't.

"Don't cry, Otome," he breathed over you, brushing a kiss on your cheek as he coiled his arms around you. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't—" You raised your hands to cup his face, softly grazing your thumb over his lips. "…Don't apologise now."

He obliged and saved the apologies for tomorrow or another day. Now wasn't the time for any of that at all. Not when you've waited for him to hold you like this for so long.

You have nothing to be sorry for, Tooru. I wanted to swim so I dove in.

If there was one thing you were sure about, it was already morning. The light from your window said so, at least. You blinked away your bleary vision and tried to move, only to find an arm draped over your figure. Your back. Wait, am I naked? Don't tell me we—

A head of tousled dark hair was asleep beside you, the morning sun beating on his naked and toned back.

Oikawa Tooru.

He groaned in his sleep before moving closer and pulling you in his arms, your cheek gently colliding with his chest, the steady beating of his heart enough to pacify your thoughts. It didn't take long for him to stir and finally awaken, planting a tender kiss on the crown of your head.

"Look at you," he stated, eyes disappearing as he beamed at you. "You've grown much lovelier. Can't believe it took me this long to tell you."

"Good morning, Tooru," you smiled back at him, warm hands on his face. You brushed away the hair stuck on his forehead.

"Oh, right! Now that we're here, would you please do me the favour?"

You sat up with him, stretching your arms while he reached for his tiny body bag on the bedside table right next to him. He pulled out a copy of Two Silver Moons and handed it to you.

"You—" your fingers curled around the book, flipping through the pages in complete disbelief. "How?…"

"Come now! Did you really think I'd miss out on the golden opportunity of grabbing a copy of your first novel?" He waved a hand, an obviously pleased smile on his face. "I pulled a few strings here and there, but it's the real deal, isn't it? Will you sign it for me?"

"Tooru, I—" To both your surprise, you still had more tears to cry. "Y-You really went out of your way for this. You really care this much—"

"Why on earth would I not care about you, Otome?" He stated, moving in to kiss your forehead. "You're so precious to me."

He could sense the apprehension you were feeling and he couldn't blame you for it. The two of you danced around each other's feelings even since you were both young, neither having an idea of what the other truly was to them. He had an answer to that now.

"There's a thing they call people like us," he said, taking one of your hands in his. "We are lovers, are we not?"

Lovers.

Oh, the word felt absolutely foreign to you before because you had absolutely no idea what you were. It sounded so much pleasant to you both now. You smiled at him and his knotted brows disappeared.

"Yes, I believe we are."

"Ah, that's a relief. I thought you wouldn't agree with me," he sighed, obviously relieved by your reply. "So where do you want to go today, querida? What are you writing about? We can go to the Leoncito Astronomical Complex. Or the Museo Provincial de Bellas Artes Franklin Rawson. There's also the San Guillermo National Park. Ischigualasto Provincial Park. I can go on and on, you know."

"You lead the way, leaderman," you said with a chuckle as you reached for a pen on the bedside table. You jotted down a message on the front page of his book.

'To Oikawa Tooru-senshu. Thank you for your love and support! Likewise, you will always have mine. I love you. ♡'

Regardless of the time and distance you've spent apart, you find yourselves gravitating back towards each other, hearts bound by an unseen force you both finally had the right word for.

The conversation Tooru had with the lady receptionist went pretty much like this:

T: Good evening! My darling (could also be dear, dearest) reserved a room... R: Will you stay too? T: *laughs* We'll see.

Author's Notes: This is from my older haikyuu series Dreams of Fire Trees and Silver Moons on AO3. I suddenly remembered this fic and how dramatic it was when I saw this on X. Oikawa is truly one of the prettiest boys in hq and you can quote me on that lol.

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#mari's archive 🌴#haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #tooru oikawa #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you

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