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Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at https://archiveofourown.org/works/6986329.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Relationship: Oikawa Tooru/Shimizu Kiyoko, Sugawara Koushi/Shimizu Kiyoko
Character: Oikawa Tooru, Shimizu Kiyoko, Sugawara Koushi, Iwaizumi Hajime
Additional Tags: may delete later, pretty racy, ironic romance, sort of unrequited?,
oikawa falls hard for kiyoko, her feelings are unknown, they do the
do, sexy stuff, Guess there's some sugakiyo in this now apparently,
Omg this stuff keeps changing, at this point I have no idea what's
gonna happen, makes I dunno sound, also i'm naming chapters after
songs I binged to during writing
Stats: Published: 2016-05-27 Updated: 2016-09-01 Chapters: 7/? Words:
27669

Chasing Perfection
by K_Lionheart

Summary

She was just too perfect. Nothing about her felt wrong to him, and that's how he knew he
would never be able to have her.

[Complete]

Notes

See the end of the work for notes
Dreamhouse
Chapter Summary

Dreamhouse - Tides of Man

She was just too...perfect.

It was something he had noticed after seeing her once. She was the picture of Japanese elegance,
beauty, manners... the list could go on and it would never end. There was little about her that
didn't astonish him, and what did only made Oikawa wish to stay far far away.

High school had passed in a whirlwind of trials and tribulations that had been made pleasant by
the constant attention he received from the better half of his school. He had no doubt life would've
been rather unfair had he been born with anything less than an attractive face. It was nice to see all
the girls trip and stumble to approach him, and he couldn't deny the thrill that came whenever he
sent a smile and the result was a flustered mess.

Oikawa loved to flirt with everything with a skirt, because--back then--he had never met a girl he
couldn't charm. It was a cruel twist of fate that the one girl he could never succeed with ended up
stealing his heart with a blink and a sigh of her lips. But, if Oikawa had to be honest, his entire life
seemed to have been designed for cruel twists of fate.

--

It had been an internal pact, of sorts. The kind a man does in his head to ensure a structure of
discipline in his life.

The instant Oikawa had spotted the raven haired girl among the murder of idiot boys, he had
decided then and there that he would avoid her at all costs. She had a face that was meant for
cameras and beautiful coffee dates that would end in tragedies, and if there was anything he knew
better was an unwinnable battle. He should know.

Matches came and went and Oikawa drowned himself in the explosive sensation of slamming a
ball through a gym, the screams of his fangirls, the collective desire to achieve new heights with
his teammates... He afforded small glances in the direction of the pretty manager-chan and
sometimes allowed his mind to wander into the braver areas of his brain. He'd turn away in an
instant and focus on literally anything else and his heart complied all too easily.

She disappeared to the memories left in the Miyagi prefecture, and Oikawa never mourned the fact
that he didn't even know her name. That was good. Names meant connection, names meant trails
of questions that never went answered. Names meant straying into evenings where he would stare
at his phone's screen and feel numb when the words, 'I'm breaking up with you.' taunted him
behind the edge of his cold bed sheets. Names meant faces that would always tease the back of his
head with possibilities and that lingering sensation in his fingertips when he finally believed he
had caught up.

He didn't care what her name was. She would be a flitting memory that disappeared like smoke.

A scholarship graced his fingers and he took his battles in bigger leagues, forgetting--blissfully
forgetting--the almost.

-

He was in his second year of University when life threw a familiar wrench in his life. He had
stepped into a class and spotted her face just feet away. A tingle exploded into his brain, the
teasing memory of that almost coming back to life behind his eyes in full-blown technicolor. He
remembered her and he realized that he had almost been able ot ignore her when he recalled the
crows she had flown with.

But this time there were no crows. She sat there staring up at him with a careful curious expression
and Oikawa felt a twitch in his right hand.

"Oikawa-san," the teacher called his name and Oikawa twisted his gaze away from her and
towards the middle aged man. "Please, come in."

"Excuse me," Oikawa greeted, and it was easy how his lips curled into his best smile. The thrill
that followed was enhanced by the silent squeals of the women in the room. His eyes flickered
back over to her, saw her tilt her chin before looking away and focusing her attention on the
teacher.

He made extra sure to sit as far away as possible.

--

"Hey, isn't she...?"

The unfinished question drew Oikawa from his building focus and in the direction Iwa-chan was
pointing. The tingle returned. She was there, on the opposite side of the gym and speaking to their
coach. Stomach twisting, Oikawa feigned ignorance.

"Isn't who...what?" he asked, balancing his volleyball on his hip. Iwa-chan pressed his hands to
his hips and shrugged.

"I could swear she looks like the beautiful manager from Karasuno. That's her, right?"

Oikawa smirked and shook his head, "How unbelievably blind you were back in high school. Not
much has changed."

"Watch it," Iwa-chan ground out, scowling. The spiker tilted his head a moment after that and
dragged his thumb across his nose. "You're acting weird."

A frown threatened to tug over the pleasant overconfidence on Oikawa's face. He kept pushing
ignorance. "How am I acting weird?"

"Normally if you see a pretty girl, you'd be all over trying to get her number like a pushy
teenager," Iwaizumi mused.

"Rude!"

"Except you aren't this time," he continued and glanced back across the gym. Volleyballs struck
the wood floors in erratic rhythms, loud and quick and still too quite not to silence the tension in
Oikawa's head. Iwa-chan noticed.

"Hmph," the sound pushed past Oikawa's throat in a chuckle and he spun his ball between his
fingers. The tingle wasn't leaving. "She's not my type."
"As if," Iwa-chan snorted, and this time there was an astonishment in his gaze that leaned too
heavily on the pensive. "There are several posters on your walls that proves that statement
otherwise."

A whistle tore them from their conversation to Oikawa's relief. It didn't last when Oikawa turned
and spotted her standing next to their beckoning coach. The man waved the entire team close and
everything in Oikawa tugged at him to run in the other direction.

"This is Shimizu Kiyoko," their coach announced. Oikawa's stomach fell to his feet. She was the
perfect embodiment of that name. "She will be joining us as a trial manager for the next three
months. I expect all of you to treat her with respect and maturity. Shimizu-san..."

She stepped forward and her eyes landed right over his then and there.

"It is a pleasure to work with you all," she said. Her voice was soft, controlled, gentle. Oikawa felt
his insides squeeze. She bowed and the connection broke, but didn't sever. "Thank you for having
me."

"Dude, she's hot!" someone whispered.

"Lucky!"

"Best year ever!"

She straightened and met their gazes evenly. There was no irritation in her gaze, no sign that she
had heard, but there was just a hint of a warning in her eyes that was meant for everyone. When
her eyes landed on Oikawa's again, he was certain he had felt exactly that. Almost had become
Just maybe...

--

He had tried, desperately tried to stay as far away from her as humanly possible. If he had to talk
to her it was usually through Iwa-chan, or with small worded answers. Her presence in their one
shared class went as ignored as he could offer, and if and when she stood to fill in an answer on
the whiteboard, Oikawa would keep his gaze fervently in the other direction.

The frustration of having her so close was a strange paralytic. It was as though her very existence
managed to turn his brain into a bizarre glob of goo. She never strayed too close either, and so he
made do with the suffering for the following days and weeks. A month in and it was starting to
piss off Iwa-chan.

"What's your deal, do you like her?!" Iwaizumi griped, exasperated after the fifth attempt at
slamming a service ace resulted in Oikawa knocking over a first-year.

"Who?" he asked and a volleyball smacked the side of his head with a brutal smack. Iwa-chan
stormed off not a moment later, grumbling. She showed up a moment after that, and Oikawa didn't
know if it was the throbbing in his head that made it feel like his heart was racing or not.

"Are you alright?" she asked. He glanced at her hands, spotted a band-aid and an icy-hot strip.
Oikawa wanted to die.

"Yes, fine," he said and sent her a sideways grin that usually had girls screaming. She only
nodded and offered him the icy-hot patch.

"If it bruises, put this on."
He shouldn't have accepted it. Their fingers brushed just a bit when she placed it in his palm. He
turned away and found himself dangerously flushed for something very stupid. After practice,
Oikawa tossed the icy-hot patch into the garbage and walked away.

He hated himself for going back to fish it out and tug it in his jersey after that.

--

The second month brought a series of fantasies that made Oikawa question his sanity. Things as
simple as hoping she was doing poor in class for an excuse to offer his brilliant advice pulled his
head into hundreds of dead end scenarios (her class score was higher than his so there would be
no point and he was doing well enough that it would be ridiculous to ask for help). Or even going
as far as visualizing her nearly getting smacked with a volleyball all so he could swoop in and
save her at the last minute didn't lead to many promising realities (she moved about the gym with
an expert grace that every time there was a stray ball that shot in her direction, her reflexes did
more than enough to save her).

Other times he had hope she would fall sick so that he could have an excuse to find out where she
lived to give her notes on a class, (but he didn't think he had ever seen her sick or look even
closely ill, so that was right out).

It came to a point where he wasn't sure if he hated her or was honestly interested in her. It messed
him up. It messed him up big time.

Then, one night, just at the start of her third and final month as a trial manager, Oikawa finally
snapped.

The Prefectural games were just a corner away from being upon the team. It was at the height of
anticipation that Oikawa preferred to spend a few extra hours in the gym to perfect his serves and
calm his mind. His position demanded his utter focus, only the very best of his athletic capacity.
Each serve he struck resounded with the blast of a canon in his ears. His hand stung, his arms
flexed hot as his feet meet the wooden floors comfortably.

He could've been in a better state of mind completely alone. Instead, she was here, writing down
in her notebook as her eyes followed his every move. He wasn't sure what was more unnerving,
her complete dedication to silence, or the fact she never seemed phased by how deeply she
seemed to stare.

Oikawa tugged his attention as much as possible, hoping to last long enough that she would leave
and he would find something else to distract himself with.

The fortieth ball exploded against the wooden floor and bounced along the many others laying
nearby. Air shoved a rhythm in his chest and Oikawa leaned forward to rest his stinging palms
against his knees. Sweat trickled down his forehead and nose before dripping to the ground. The
sight of a fluffy blue towel appeared in the blink of an eye. He stiffened when he recognized the
hand that offered the fabric.

He straightened up and tried to compose himself when he met her gaze. She watched him as she
always did, with wide observant eyes and an unaffected curve on the line that was her mouth. She
was a perfect doll, a perfect image of beauty.

"Thanks," Oikawa muttered, not caring if he sounded gruff when he took the towel to shove his
face into the cloth. She hummed in response. He tried not to think about how his fingers had
brushed her again, or if she had held on to his towel for long, or if there was a lingering smell that
proved she was even there. When he tugged the towel away, she was gazing down at his hands.
"It's late," she said. Oikawa drew in a breath and nodded. "Will you be alright? On your own?"

It was such an innocent question, one that couldn't have possibly had any underlying context. But
his mind had been playing with him for weeks now, and he couldn't really take it for much longer.

"Yeah," he said, and tried not to recoil when she bowed. "Thanks for your hard work..."

"Good work today," she replied. She looked back up at him, and reached for his towel. His
fingers curled around her wrist before he could think as to why. It was then that a flash of surprise
overtook her gaze. Her lips parted, pink and plump, and her eyes looked bigger behind the lenses
of her glasses. It was so sudden that Oikawa felt the words in his mouth fall apart to a very single
and honest thought.

"I want you."

The surprise mounted, and this time, her lips parted enough for him to see the curve of her tongue,
the pristine white of her teeth. It was the most expressive he had ever seen her and it was as if he
had burst through a door that should have always remained closed.

"You...what?" she asked slowly. His fingers were still curled around her wrist. Her skin was so
smooth. Oikawa's throat worked uselessly for a moment before he released her.

"I want you..." he repeated, but he looked away and felt so humiliated after he said so that he very
nearly turned and stormed out. The silence that followed was so overwhelming that it sapped at
the remainder of Oikawa's sanity. He looked back up at her when he saw her gazing down a the
ground, her cheeks flushed pink.

"Why?"

He didn't expect this. He wanted a rejection, not another question that made him stare at his life
through a different lens. Oikawa's fingers clenched over the terrycloth towel, and he tried to push
her to do just that. Reject him.

"Because I do, no other reason than that." the way he said it was cold, almost methodical. He
knew this was a reaction that pushed girls away. He had seen how insensitive tones with aloof
words damaged hearts and pushed tears through heartbroken eyes. But she was never what he had
come to expect. She always had to be different and impossibly perfect.

She looked up at him, and her lips pursed for a moment. "No other reason?"

Oikawa nodded, unsure how to take her silent appraisal. It was an eternity before she lifted a hand
and tugged a string of black silky hair over her ear.

"Okay."

Oikawa's heart became the bottom of the ocean. "Wait--wha--okay?"

She nodded, "Do you love me?"

He leaned away, blinking wide eyes and gawking. Love? Oikawa shook his head. Her lips
twitched into a small smile.

"Then, let's go."

--
This was not what he had expected. Never in a million years.

Oikawa Tooru believed himself to be an expert in the art of wooing a woman. He had as many
notches on his bedpost as the best of them. He had believed himself to have an instinct in romance
and lovemaking that made him one of the most desirable men in the school. Months of dating
various girls and drawing them into his bedroom had allowed him just enough stress relief and
confidence boost to carry on as he always did. Yet when it came to one-night stands, Oikawa had
a limited experience, and even less as being brought into a girl's apartment.

He had always been the one to beckon and tempt, not the other way around. Only it didn't even
feel like this when he arrived at Shimizu's apartment with Shimizu at his side.

"Would you like some tea?" she offered him as soon as they had walked past her door and into a
modest living room. Oikawa shook his head vaguely as he took in the view of her home. Modest,
tasteful, just like her. But what astounded him to take a vow of silence was the scent lingering in
the air. Gentle, sweet, peculiarly feminine. His mouth watered and his heart raced.

"Over here, Oikawa-san," Shimizu's voice dragged him from staring at her apartment to the
direction of her bedroom. Oikawa felt a jolt take hold of him when he realized she was waiting for
him patiently. He bowed, inwardly reeling as he padded his way after her. When the door closed
behind them, he was somewhat relieved when the only source of light was from the moonlight
outside her curtained window. He didn't know if he could handle meeting her gaze at a time like
this.

"What would you like to do?" she asked him. Oikawa floundered for a thought when he saw her
retreat further into the dark room. His eyes adjusted well enough to see her approach her
nightstand to open her drawer.

"What do you mean?" he asked, more to assure himself he wasn't nervous and to make sure she
didn't realize he was still in shock at her proposition.

"I don't generally bring people here for sex," Shimizu turned to face him. The darkness did
enough to swallow the burn of his cheeks from view, he wondered how she could be so
nonchalant. "But, I feel like I can make an exception this time around."

This took him by surprise. "Why?"

She took a step close and he fought the urge to glance away and stare at the bed off to the side, or
the work desk pressed to the wall. At this distance, he could see the stranger details only the faint
light could offer him. She gazed at him with an inviting expression, until finally she lifted a hand
and brushed her fingers over his jaw. A shiver coursed through his spine and he all but sank into
her touch.

"You don't seem like the type to fall in love easy."

What a strange thing to say.

Oikawa didn't bother asking her what she meant, so he focused his attention on how far he could
push this. "Can I kiss you?"

"If you want."

He stepped closer, and she remained where she was. Her hand fell to brush the tender skin of his
neck and collarbone. He should be turning around and leaving in the opposite direction. Instead he
ducked his head down, noticed how easily she lifted her chin up to him. He dragged his cheek
against hers and the lack of a kiss seemed to have taken her by surprise. Oikawa inhaled it all in.
"I can leave," he said.

"If you want," she said.

His fingers unhooked themselves from his pockets to dig into her own. The jersey over her skin
felt different than his did, and he wasn't sure why. He trailed the edges of their boundaries with a
sort of contemplation, teasing the curve of her waist and the flair of her hips with just his
fingertips. Oikawa sunk a little deeper until his nose brushed against her earlobe and he could
smell the scent of her hair. Plums and lavender.

All the while, her hand remained at its place on his neck and collarbone. She made no move to
touch him further and something about that irritated him. Every other girl he had been with had
been almost impatient when it came to touching--tugging at clothes and dragging nails against his
flesh. She didn't seem to register any of his touches aside from the occasional arch or turn of her
cheek. He could feel her breath butterfly over his skin. What would it take to make her desperate?

"Can I call you by your first name?" he asked this as his lips ghosted over the curve of her jaw.

"If you want," she replied with the same sort of huskiness his voice had fallen under. Oikawa ran
his tongue over his lower lip and hummed to himself.

"Alright," he said and trailed his fingers slowly up her front. He pulled away just enough so that
their noses brushed together and he could see the way her eyes were half-lidded, half-focused. Her
lips were a warmth that teased his with their proximity. He was curious to see how her eyes would
change if he licked her, but he was strangely distracted by the way her breath hitched gently when
his fingers brushed the underside of her breasts.

His fingers followed the slim line of her jersey's zipper before pinching the slim metal of the clasp
between his thumb and forefinger. With decided slowness he dragged the zipper down. The sound
of the teeth pulling apart was the only other sound in the room next to their soft breaths and pants.
It was almost entirely erotic, but Oikawa wasn't sure how he felt about it just yet.

"Last chance to push me away," Oikawa warned and her fingers twitched over his chest. She
searched his gaze for a moment and then her fingers followed the trail of his own jersey. She
mimicked his deliberate pace, stopping only when the zipper ended at just below his pelvis. He
could feel her close enough to the juncture of his growing desire. She made no move to engage
him further.

"Is that what you want?"

The question made him consider the scenario where she pushed him away and changed her mind.
Where she was no longer standing before him but shutting him out. Where all that remained were
simple glances in his direction that one only reserved for a stranger. He would sooner chop off his
own hand than to have her do just that.

Oikawa's hands moved with renewed purpose. He pulled away the fabric of her jacket until she
pushed her arms back to allow the jersey to slide down her arms to land on the floor. The angle
allowed him better access to her waist and hips and there he tugged his thumbs beneath her shirt to
glide over the soft flesh there.

Shimizu let out a soft hiss, and he felt her tremble beneath his grip. It spurred him forward and
doused his desire in gasoline. He tugged his hands under her shirt until all he could feel was the
firm and lily soft flesh of her sides and back. Oikawa brushed past her lips to bury his nose against
her neck and he groaned to himself when she let him tug her against his chest. Her breasts pressed
up against him and the sensation made his hips flinch forward.

Oikawa dragged his hands up and up until his fingers found the clasp of her bra. He unhooked the
fabric without another thought and allowed himself the chance to trace the sound of her gasp on
her throat with his tongue. Her fingers moved from his chest to slide up his neck and dig into his
hair and Oikawa was pleased when he felt her other hand joined the first in its journey through his
scalp.

His lips worked sloppy kisses and movements over Shimizu's neck, taking in every little soft sigh
and groan that escaped from her chest and through her parted lips. He hummed when his hands
trailed back down to explore the pert curve of her rear and felt a jolt surround him when her hips
bucked against his.

"Oikawa-san..." she breathed softly. It made him drag his teeth against her skin and find the
sensitive spot of her earlobe. His touches grew bolder, sliding back to her front to glide up until
she was arching away to give him enough space to find her breasts with his fingers. Her bra hung
over his knuckles as he dragged coarse fingertips over her nipples. Oikawa pulled away to tease
her chin with his nose. They were both panting pretty hard now.

"I want to fuck you against the wall," he said, tugging his fingers around her nipples and feeling
the flesh pucker and pebble against his touch.

"Tell me how..." she moaned, and this time, her nails did drag against his scalp. The sensation
shot straight down into his half-limp cock.

"With your legs over my shoulders," Oikawa hissed, feeling her rub against him in mock
beginnings of a more primal movement. "With you screaming my name..."

"There's a condom in my pocket," she replied and Oikawa swooped down and wrapped his arms
around her upper thighs. Her arms wrapped around his head, and Oikawa pushed them past the
nightstand and against the wall. His lips found the persisting press of one of her nipples through
her shirt and he bit down. The sound she made filled him to the brim. He set her back down on
her feet and felt pleased when she busied herself with lifting her shirt over her head and her bra off
of her chest.

Those quick moments of distance allowed Oikawa to tug his fingers in her pant pockets and found
the little square plastic with his fingers. As soon as the rubber was in his possession he tugged it
into his pocket before helping her out of her pants.

She had her hips pressed against his when he sank his fingers into her pants and pulled down. The
fabric slid down her thighs with such ease, Oikawa groaned. His groan increased in intensity
when her hands fell past his jacket and toward the bulge digging against her thigh. Oikawa
retaliated, sliding his fingers up her inner thigh before feeling coarse curls drag over his knuckles.

He hardly touched her and he knew she was wet. He pressed his fingers harder into her heat and
found her drenched and trembling. Oikawa gritted his teeth and ducked down again to sink his
teeth over the heated flesh of her neck. He tugged his tongue and lips over each sensitive spot he
could find, happy to note whenever she moaned a little louder or panted a little harder when his
searches bore fruit.

Touching her only turned him on further. His fingers sank deep into her heat until she was digging
her fingers hard around his arms. Her nails bit through the fabric of his clothes once before
hurrying down to dig into the front of his sweats.

Oikawa slammed a hand by her head when her fingers curled around him and gave him a certain
squeeze. Her touch was so soft, her skin was so soft, everything about her was so damn soft... He
couldn't handle how soft she was. So he pressed against her harder and harder until her moans
grew into tight-throated cries, until her fingers began to pump against him and he could feel her
shatter around his fingers.

As she clung tight to him, Oikawa broke through the wrapper of the condom with his teeth and
adjusted his pants until they fell past his hips and he was free to feel the night air between them.
Her fingers followed lazy patterns over his abdominals as he tugged the condom over the head of
his cock and down his shaft. He was clenching his teeth tighter now, hoping to last long enough to
enter her and fulfill this one request.

He didn't think much else when Shimizu brought him closer, arched her hips up so he could align
himself to her entrance. He couldn't think of much else when he felt her push against him without
a second thought and watched her face expand and slacken with the pleasure of dragging herself
down his length.

She was hot and slick all around him, pulsing with the remains of her last crash into pleasure. That
first orgasm had been tight-lipped and groaned out. He wanted this next one to tear down the
walls around them.

Oikawa drew himself back before jerking back up, snapping his hips against hers with enough
force to make her slam against the wall behind her. Shimizu gasped, her head arching back.
Oikawa exhaled, picturing each thrust like the delightful slam of a ball against his palm. He tugged
an arm under one of her legs and lifted it up high until her knee grazed his right ear. God, she was
flexible. But he was also taller than her, and tugging her that high up made her fumble for balance
when her other leg failed to find sure footing.

He snapped his hips back into hers again. Shimizu groaned. Oikawa tugged his other arm under
her opposite leg and crushed her against the wall until both her legs were high in the air and her
fingers were dug deep into his shirt and skin. Gravity did more than enough work for the both of
them. All Oikawa had to focus on was gripping her hips tight with strong fingers as he caused
them to collide together again and again.

"Oikawa-san..." Shimizu moaned and one of her legs slipped down to hang over his elbow. It
hardly mattered, he was drowning inside of her and he wanted nothing else to stop him. "Oikawa-
san...Oikawa-san..."

Oikawa growled against her, digging his teeth harder against her collar the further in they both fell
together. He pushed and pushed until their hips were flush against one another and she was
squealing in his ear. The end was approaching far too quick for Oikawa, but judging by how she
was gasping and moaning, he could only hope she was close too.

Sweat beaded and slid down his back, his legs burned, but Oikawa wanted nothing more than to
continue this hard rhythm and listen to Shimizu pant his name like she was begging him for
something. She moaned and cried, made motions and squeezed her eyes shut. She was nothing
like the careful woman Oikawa saw everywhere else...she was befitting the word perfection.

Finally, her muscles clamped down on him with such strength, Oikawa felt his voice rip from his
throat in a moan that buckled his knees and had them sliding down her wall. Shimizu clung harder
to him as they fell, but Oikawa continued grinding up against her. She fluttered and spasmed
against him, made him flutter and spasm against her.

Oikawa Tooru came just an instant after Shimizu did, and it was one of the hardest orgasms of his
life.
An hour could've passed and Oikawa wouldn't have noticed, not while he was floating and
disappearing inside the bliss that was Shimizu. It seemed that Shimizu did notice, because far too
soon did she pry her fingers from his skin and clothes before shifting away. Oikawa bit back a
grunt of disappointment but didn't complain. He had overstayed his welcome.

Carefully, he pulled out of her, tried not to hear her sigh and clear her throat. He moved away to
sit back against the wall, still trying to catch the last of his breath. Shimizu settled on leaning by
him, pushed enough away that it was proper after engaging so intimately. It was so strange.

"How do you feel?" she asked him some time later after Oikawa tugged the condom off, tied it up,
and threw it in the wastebasket across from her.

He raised a brow at her but doubted she could see him. The light of the moon was dimmer than
when they had started, there would be no way he could see her face clearly now.

"Good," he said, unsure how else to respond. More than great. Unbelievably great. He felt
fantastic.

"I'm glad to hear it." Another awkward silence followed and Oikawa found himself fidgeting
uncertainly. "Do you want to do this again?"

She was continuously surprising him. Oikawa's fingers clenched over his thigh.

"Why?"

He saw her move--shrug, probably--and contemplated her in a different light now. "Yes," he said
after another moment. Every one night stand he had had ended up with the same request. Every
time he had said something coquettish and flirty and never looked back. This wasn't going to one
of those, apparently. "I do."

"Good," she said. He tried his best not to read too much into it. "Perhaps not now, though. We
have practice early tomorrow."

Oikawa fumbled for words at that, "Oh--uh, right...of course."

Slowly, they picked themselves back up. Shimizu reached for her discarded shirt and tugged it on
as he adjusted his pants back over his hips and tugged his clothes back into place. He watched her
bend over and slide her pants back up her legs, watched her stumble a bit over her feet. The sight
sent a flush a warmth into his body, one that made him want to grin and sigh and bring her into his
arms. Oikawa turned away and busied himself with staring at her door.

"This way," she said and led him out her room.

At her door, Oikawa worked his teeth over his lower lip, tapping his fingers together nervously.
"Uh...thanks. I had a good time." He winced as he said that, inwardly kicking himself. He had
expected her to look at him with that same composed expression, but what he saw made him blink
curiously.

Her eyes were wide and her lips gently parted and it occurred to him that entire time they had been
together, he hadn't even kissed her. She smiled up at him then, small and modest but overly warm.

"I'm happy to hear that," she said. Oikawa felt his stomach disappear for the shock that
surrounded him as her smile broadened. "I'll see you tomorrow, Oikawa-san."

"Ah--right, yes. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," she bowed and closed the door in his face.

When he walked away, body tingling with the afterglow of their intimacy, Oikawa was overcome
with the strangest desire; To hurry back and to press a fervent kiss to Shimizu's lips.

Next time... He thought to himself, and there was something in him that also became giddy.
Something dangerous. Something that should've most definitely never strayed past an almost and
a just maybe...

--

TBC
Should You Return
Chapter Summary

Should You Return - Copeland (dear god this song)

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Next time didn't happen for a long time.

Preparations for the Prefectural tournaments took up all the time Oikawa had after that night. If
there was any time to practice restraint it was this, he believed. The evidence was clear the
following day during early morning practice.

Oikawa woke up feeling groggy and sapped of his energy as if he had only managed to sleep one
hour instead of six. When he had arrived at the campus' gym, the team was already in the middle
of doing practice serves. Iwaizumi was on the other side of the gym, speaking to a few of their
upperclassmen before spotting him from across the busy rain of volleys and running athletes.
Oikawa stifled a sour expression when his best friend decided then and there to jog over, a dark
expression already tugging the edges of his eyebrows into a frown.

"You're late," Iwa-chan grunted, stopping just a few feet away while Oikawa busied himself with
changing into his gym shoes.

"You don't say," Oikawa said.

"You're hardly late," Iwaizumi pushed and Oikawa stifled another urge to turn and take his warm-
ups into the crisp morning air. "The only times you are late are when you've gotten laid--and by
laid, I mean fucked to hell and back."

The comment did nothing to help the immediate flashback to the almost violent passion he had
shared with the team's own probational manager. The memory of Shimizu's voice hitching beside
his ear and moaning his name as he thrust and pushed her against her bedroom wall sent a jolt of
hot nerves through his abdomen and a strange twitch in his nether regions. Not now.

"That was a really dirty comment, Iwa-chan," Oikawa shot back, lips curling into a sly grin. "I
didn't think you were so privy to my sexcapades as the other members of the team are--OW!!"

Iwaizumi pulled back a steaming fist, glaring down at the talented server with a glare strong
enough to roast ice. "Cut the shit and go run laps, now."

Oikawa nursed a growing bump on his head and slinked away, nervous at how angry he had
made Iwa-chan so early in the morning. At least that put end to that.

"You really shouldn’t rile him up so much, you know.”

Oikawa's insides jumped to his throat. When he turned his attention back around, he was faced
with none other than Shimizu’s own composed expression. Her proximity sent a sudden zing
through his body, as though someone had shoved a live wire into his chest. Oikawa floundered for
words when his eyes fell over her lips and that peculiar beauty mark at the edge of her mouth.

"Ah…right,” Oikawa stammered, feeling his body stiffen too tight and feel far too warm. Shimizu
didn’t seem to notice his airy response, busying herself with pulling an ice-pack from the cooler
she kept around her shoulders and at her hip. She pressed it to his vacant hands a moment later
and before Oikawa could think of anything else to say. She bowed.

"Good morning,” she said before walking past him. Oikawa stared at the icepack blankly, only
realizing then that he hadn’t been able to reply to her morning greeting. He turned around and
watched her approach Iwaizumi. Seijoh’s former Ace actually flushed and stumbled when
Shimizu offered him a bandage while pointing at his hand. Iwaizumi declined a few times before
Shimizu nodded and walked off in the other direction.

It was then that Oikawa caught the way Iwa-chan’s gaze followed the trail of Shimizu’s presence,
eyes wide and lips parted a bit in awe. It wasn’t only Iwa-chan though. The rest of the team
seemed to also follow her steps with star-struck gazes and flushed cheeks. The sight brought a
new, colder, sensation in Oikawa’s core, one that flooded his senses and filled him with a certain
sobriety that threatened to lodge all desire to speak within his throat.

Oikawa turned away and started a brisk jog, fingers clenching around the cold icepack in his
grasp. He dumped his things and the gel-pack near the side of the wall and proceeded in his
training. He wouldn’t focus on her, not when there were more important things right now.

Half an hour later, Oikawa glanced over in the direction of his things. The ice-pack had gone and
the knowledge filled him with a strange resolution.

--

Something had…changed? Was off?

He couldn't put his finger on it, no matter what he did. But it felt as though Oikawa had just
realized that everything had been moved two inches to the right. Not enough to spark outrage or
an honest reaction, but just enough to disturb him. He didn’t think much of it for a while, thinking
back on any possible reason that was anything but that night between him and Shimizu (dear God,
had it already been two weeks?) and found himself lacking an answer. It was in the middle of their
shared class that Oikawa realized his eyes had fallen over Shimizu’s lean figure.

He didn’t seem to have noticed in the past, but she always dressed rather conservatively away
from the gym clothing he had always associated her with. A deep maroon blouse matched the
white button-up shirt she wore beneath, pale colored jeans and comfortable flats hung off her toes
as she took notes from their professor’s rambling. Even her hair, always left to hang over her
shoulders was tied and braided to one side. Still…

Even dressed so normally she was a picture of beauty. Her eyes beheld the information on her
notebook with business-like appraisal, and every so often—when she was deep in thought—
Oikawa saw her tap the edge of her pen (always gel and always black) against the plush cushion
of her lower lip. It went on for a while, that gentle tapping… he’d never realize he was staring
until after realizing with a start that people were pushing from their chairs and she was striding out
of the room without a word or a glance in his direction.

The lack of communication between them seemed to drive his mind into a strange abyss. One that
took in thousands of scenarios and dragged him kicking and screaming into memories of that night
and fantasies of possible nights ahead.

She did say that she wanted to do it again. Those were her words, her invitations. Yet, aside from
her soft-spoken words at practice, she failed to send any signals in his direction that she was
willing to uphold that promise any time soon. All Oikawa had left was memories and fantasies and
the completely unsatisfying tugs and touches he gave himself when his body craved an encore of
Shimizu’s reactions and fire-inducing grazes.

The frustration mounted and swallowed at Oikawa’s mind for the following days after that. Each
desire to reach over and touch her was channeled into his work and all of his serves. At first, each
spike and explosive boom of a ball against his palm was enough to distract him from Shimizu’s
wide-eyed gaze and moaning supplication of his name. It was enough. But that never lasted long.

He knew this change had evolved when, one day during practice, Oikawa felt it take over his
mind and bring over his eyes a razor-sharp desire. The ball fell over his hands, and he watched
with a profound sort of slow motion as one of his upperclassmen leaped into the air and swung.
His fingers shoved the ball through the air with a force that took the volley directly into Ikibuki-
san’s spike. The ball exploded on the other side of the court and made everyone glance back at
Oikawa with awed expressions.

The team stared at him for a moment before Ikibuki-san let out a laugh and all he could say was,
“Well, that was…new…”

Iwaizumi trotted up beside Oikawa a second later, eyes wide and eyebrows up to his hairline.

"What the hell was that?” he asked, tapping Oikawa’s side with the back of his hand. Oikawa
barely managed to open his mouth to respond until their coach called him over. He did everything
he could to keep his eyes fixed on coach Hinabe’s pensive gaze and not glance over to where
Shimizu stood at his side. Oikawa bowed, said a few words he couldn’t recall even if he tried and
jogged back towards his things where Iwa-chan was waiting for him.

"Well?” Iwa-chan nudged, pressing his hands against his hips and tilting his chin. “You wanna tell
me what that was about?”

"I was just trying something different,” Oikawa replied with a cheeky grin. That was a lie.
Oikawa swept down and snatched his water bottle from his duffle bag only to meet Iwa-chan’s
undecipherable expression.

“Huh,” Iwa-chan hummed and something in how he analyzed Oikawa made the setter stiffen.

"What?"

Iwaizumi shrugged before slapping Oikawa on the shoulder, “Nothing. That toss just reminded
me of Kageyama’s weird-o quick. But hey, if that’s working for you…” Oikawa froze, the water
bottle fell from his grasp to bounce on the floor.

He stared at the bottle for a ridiculous amount of time as his mind recounted every word and every
horrible second that made people think Oikawa had just reminded anyone of Tobio of all people.

This time when Oikawa did glance up, he spotted Shimizu’s figure taking dutiful notes by their
coach’s side. What had she done to him?

--

If he hadn’t really tried to avoid her before, he was sure doing it now.

Oikawa sank into his practices and homework with a vigor that would stun even the most devout
academic athlete. In all of his years, he had never once avoided a woman like he avoided Shimizu
Kiyoko like he did then. If she came close to him, he literally turned in the opposite direction and
took off at a swift pace that hopefully didn’t arouse suspicion.

He had to focus. He needed to focus.

But avoiding her was clearly easier said than done. No sooner did Oikawa decide to avoid her like
the plague was Shimizu’s presence suddenly everywhere for him.

He needed to go to the bathroom? She was by the water fountains, filling up water bottles. He
wanted to go eat his lunch on the rooftop? Shimizu was enjoying some sushi by the staircases and
studying quietly. He wanted to walk home alone? She was somehow at the very bus stop that
rested at the head of his apartment building.

It was dizzying and surprisingly frightening. Oikawa would’ve immediately demanded if she was
stalking him, but she never seemed to be looking for him and always appeared genuinely surprised
when they brushed paths together. It filled him with equal amounts of longing and loathing. It was
enough to give anyone whiplash.

Yet she never approached him, never demanded answers. Shimizu just bowed her head at him and
went on her merry way if they were chanced upon one another down the campus hallways. She
kept her distance during practices and if she needed to speak to him it was with short words and
rarely did she linger.

Oikawa found himself particularly wedged between the space of wanting her to stay as far away
from him as possible or having her at his side almost all the time. It was exhausting.

The day of the prefectural tournament finally came upon them and Oikawa was more than happy
for a chance to distract himself from Shimizu’s drowning presence. He focused all of his
adrenaline and nerves into pin-point glances that narrowed his line of vision on the court to just the
players around him, ahead of him, and the ball cradled in his hands.

Here, in this lonely place at the Server’s spot, Oikawa could breathe and turn all the knots in his
throat into patches of air that exploded into clarity behind his eyes.

Their opponents fell to the barrage of effort and sweat that dripped down his chin and trailed
tracks of energy through his flesh. His teammates applauded and slapped his back and Oikawa
knew he was where he was meant to be. His coach gave him a wry smile and Oikawa forced on a
cheeky grin when Shimizu gave him a nod and a twinkle in her eyes that spoke of approval.

It wasn’t enough though. He knew that much.

He knew it was dangerous…

--

He was freshly showered when Oikawa arrived at Shimizu’s doorway that night after the end of
the tournament. His body tingled with the sensation of scrubbed skin and the cool breath of damp
hair within a dying summer’s breeze.

He stared at the numbers over her doorway, torn between knocking and walking away. In his
mind he had a very simple plan, a tactic to get him to speak to her and end whatever it was.

Oikawa knew that if he ended this before it got out of hand would leave him safe, allow him a
chance to dodge the most accurate bullet aimed at him. He would tell her that sex wouldn’t work
out between them. He would tell her that what happened between them was nothing more than
stress and a chemical reaction because let’s be real, we’re both extremely good looking and it was
foolish for this to not happen at one point, right?
With that thought, Oikawa fumbled with the nerve to lift a finger to her doorbell. The button
squeaked beneath his index finger and the ringer behind her door shrieked loud enough to make
him jump and contemplate a swift escape.

He didn’t move though; he knew it would be idiotic to run now. Or rather, that was a thought that
crossed his mind to comfort him when he heard her footsteps approach the door.

A second later and her door swung open and she met his gaze through a suspended moment and a
breath of surprise.

“Oikawa-san?” she spoke his name and he was thrown back to that night (weeks ago) of when
she had moaned and pleaded and groaned out his name in his ear and it wasn’t enough.

“Sorry for showing up so late,” the words sounded foreign to his ears even as he said them and he
vaguely wondered if this was because of how disconnected he had felt all this time. “But, I don’t
have your number and no way to communicate with you.”

“Oh,” Shimizu said, her lips curling around the word and teasing him with the way her beauty
mark hung past the cherry pink of her lips. “I see. Would you like to come in?”

Say no.

“Sure.”

Fuck.

She opened her door to allow him in and Oikawa walked past the threshold like the idiot he was.
When the door shut, his skin felt that same familiar electricity that had shot through him the
morning after their passion-filled rendezvous. Not the same. Not the same.

“Please, come in.” Shimizu gestured him deeper into her apartment. There it is. That same smell.
Peculiar, clean, feminine, delicious. Oikawa took in a deep breath and churned it out into a casual
sigh as she headed down her hallway towards the direction of her room. She didn’t beckon him
this time even though his heart had memorized every step.

“I’ll just be a moment,” she said and disappeared past her bedroom door. Every second that passed
was a swift reminder of every noise that had been shared between them.

Oikawa had fallen into a half-built fantasy when she returned, phone in hand and tugging the silk
of her black hair behind an ear. At this distance, he could practically smell her.

“Would you like my number or email?”

“Whichever’s fine,” Oikawa replied, smiling easily despite the way his fists clenched tight in his
pockets. Shimizu gave him a curious tilt of her chin and said nothing. It occurred to him too late
that he hadn’t pulled out his phone from his pocket.

“Perhaps I can get yours…?” she asked a moment after and Oikawa felt his cheeks flush with
embarrassment.

“Right, ah, it’s…” he gave her the information with downcast eyes, swaying back and forth on his
heels and hoping he didn’t look as restless as his insides felt. Shimizu punched in each bit of info
on her phone with silent nods and immeasurable patience. When she stopped, Oikawa felt a buzz
in his pants’ pocket.
“I just sent you a text,” she said and when she glanced up at him, his mind went quiet. It was dark,
the inside of her apartment gently lit by a lamp in her living room. Here the lighting curved within
her dark eyes and lay suspended over the curve of her lips. He had dreamt of those lips, he had
fantasized endlessly about those lips and how they once parted to groan out his name as she came
around his fingers.

“Oikawa-san?”

He took a step close and saw how her eyes widened a fraction and how her fingers twitched
around the phone in her hands. Déjà vu filled him, but this was better than before. He could see
more of her now.

“I want you,” he said and felt his stomach tighten with anticipation when he saw her hands fall to
tuck away her phone in her pocket. Her gaze never left his behind her glasses. Oikawa desperately
wanted to fog them up, have her writhe beneath him again.

“Why?”

It didn’t occur to him until later that this was the exact conversation they had when he had first
confessed and she had taken him into her room.

“Because I do,” he repeated and he reached up to slowly drag his thumb over the plush touch of
her lower lip. Shimizu didn’t pull away, and judging by how her gaze had darkened, he doubted
she wanted to.

“You aren’t afraid?” she asked and the deviation in their script made him blink, almost broke the
spell.

“Why would I be afraid?” He asked her and dragged his thumb from her lips down her chin to
ghost over her jaw.

“You haven’t looked at me in over a month,” Shimizu said and her voice vibrated against his
knuckles pleasantly.

“I was focused on other things.” Oikawa supplied easily. That was a lie. Shimizu didn’t look
unconvinced, but she watched him with that familiar appraisal that had left him feeling useless and
wordless, scrambling for coherency and the sly charm that was always enough for everyone else.

“I see,” she said before twisting her chin to press a kiss against his palm. Oikawa forgot how to
breathe. “I was worried you had fallen for me.”

It was then that Oikawa remembered why she had allowed him in here in the first place, why he
had decided to come here to break it off. He was at a very dangerous place. The slightest push in
the wrong direction could very well end everything between them, could very well end him.

That didn’t stop the curl of Oikawa’s lips to spread into a dark grin, one that had her eyes
darkening further.

“What sort of idiot do you think I am?” he asked her and took a step closer. Run, dude. Run.

Shimizu glanced up at him through her dark lashes and her lips shifted into a small smirk. The
look made him raise a brow and purse his lips.

“Don’t answer that,” he said finally before dragging his hand against her neck to tease the silk of
her black hair. There was a dampness in her tresses that reminded him of his own and the tingles
over his skin.
“Unless,” Oikawa continued, leaning down to brush his nose against the curve of her opposite
cheek. “You want to push me away for sure this time.”

“If you want,” she sighed. “I could do that.”

There it is, the final warning, the final caution before taking the plunge. In a surge of foolish and
idiotic pride, Oikawa grinned wider against her skin and took her pulse between his teeth.

“Can I call you by your first name?”

“If you want,” she sighed again and he was shoving his hands under her pajama shirt to tease the
edges of her breasts with callous hands and too much desire.

“Can I kiss you?” her blouse was falling to the ground beside his shoes and she was pulling him
deeper into her apartment. His shirt and jacket were discarded just as quickly.

“If you want.”

His fingers found the edge of her pants and pushed inside to trail teasing touches over her heat.
Oikawa sighed in relief when Shimizu’s hands found their ways to his shoulders and dragged
slow trails down his skin and abs.

“On your knees, on your bed…” Oikawa growled against Shimizu’s throat and she yanked him
into her room where the door swung and slammed shut behind them.

--

TBC

Chapter End Notes

this is shorter than the last one but I'm falling asleep as I'm writing so I'll probably add
more later. Enjoy for now.
Kiss N' Tell
Chapter Summary

Kiss N' Tell - Danger Radio ( the ****Lyrics**** omggggg)

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Oikawa Tooru got as far as he did in life through hours and hours of effort and training. His sole
identity rested on the mountains of tears and pain he had carved for himself, and he built an image,
a visage of himself that displayed nothing but confidence and zeal, ambition and power, and just
enough knowledge of the female heart to leave a trail behind his feet.

Ushiwaka would continue to look and see him as a worthy adversary who wasted his
opportunities on joining small town teams and endeavors. Ushiwaka was a mountain that Oikawa
never dared attempt to scale again because Oikawa decided that the only mountain that deserved
scaling was his own.

Oikawa Tooru saw his greatest rival and enemy and was torn down to his very roots again and
again for years. Then, he watched the team he had once defeated with ease tear that mountain
apart before flying off without looking back.

It was probably this background knowledge that fed a strange aggression into every curve and
fiber of Oikawa's muscles, core, and body whenever Shimizu pulled him close and allowed him to
sink ravines and rivers into her flesh.

It was probably this hidden knowledge that allowed Oikawa a string of restraint against the
temptation of Shimizu's presence. It kept him from sinking into her slowly, from drinking her in
with reverence, from wanting to drown in every moan, sigh, and drag of nails against skin. He did
everything in his power from succumbing to her while succumbing to her, and if that's not the
biggest oxymoron you can find then you're more than welcome to correct him.

Their pace was always rough and primal. With teeth scraping red lines over a fluttering pulse and
with hands pushing limbs to new flexible heights. With bruising and groaning and an anger and
need to scale this cliff higher and higher before the climax broke their throats and made them both
collapse against one another in sweating and trembling heaps.

Oikawa appeared at her door every Saturday night, (save nights when the team was off doing
something as a group or--God forbid--there was a party) and every Saturday night, Shimizu would
let him in. They would discuss a few things about the plays or about the team, mostly observations
she had gathered from their tactics and strategies, all while she served him tea or allowed him to
undress in her room. Every connection between them was calculating... Everything between them
never escalated. But sometimes, conversation took off in a different angle Oikawa didn't know
how to handle outside of her doors.

--

"I swear to God, he compared me to Tobio of all people!"
Shimizu made a small sound, like a giggle, as he pressed her against her couch and had his tongue
tracing patterns against her neck. He let his fingers graze and touch her under her clothes while
they talked.

"Kageyama-kun was always a very good player," Shimizu replied, gently tugging her fingers
through Oikawa's hair. "I don't understand why you hate him so much."

"Oh, I don't hate him," Oikawa scoffed, leaning back to watch as her face slackened when his
fingers reached a familiar zone of heat and slick want. "Still doesn't mean I want to be compared
to him. I've no idea what you've done to me to make people make such a comparison."

"What makes you think--ahhhh--I did anything?"

Oikawa grinned slowly, "What makes you think you haven't? Spread your legs a little more--
good. Hm...very nice. Thank you for the meal, Shimizu-san."

--

They'd talk for a short amount of time, never about anything personal, and Oikawa would train his
gaze elsewhere as she shimmied out of her pants, or wriggled out of her shirt. Then, she'd pull
herself close enough for him to reach and touch. And always, like some sort of perverse routine
between the two of them, Oikawa would test her borders with flirty words that carried hidden ice.

But sometimes...a different sort of heat snuck into his borders and made him tremble.

--

"That bruise on your ankle looks bad. "

Oikawa glanced down at it as he tugged his socks off. He shrugged. "Accidents are to be expected
with volleyball."

Shimizu stood from the bed before Oikawa could ask and she disappeared into her kitchen. When
she came back, she had a cream in her hand and a bandage in another.

"Shimizu-san," Oikawa sighed, "It's not a big deal. I can walk on it fine."

"Just to be safe." and she'd apply the cream and swath his ankle in the bandage while he watched.

"You're getting very dangerous, Shimizu-san." He said when she finished. Before she could ask
what he meant, he had her wrists in a vice above her head while he tongued that special spot on
her neck that had her gasping. It was the only way he could hold back from saying anything
stupid. Moments later, her clothes were off and the lights were off and Oikawa Tooru pretended
that his heart didn't feel warm when she had looked up at him in concern after she finished caring
for his ankle.

--

Oikawa felt the string shrink in his grasp every time she surprised him. So he bore his teeth and
donned a metaphorical black cloak to keep the warmth at bay.

"You sure you don't want to push me away?" He'd ask, as though he was some sort of comic-
book villain swaying and tempting some pure and innocent heroin into doing something dirty for a
gray cause. And always, like clockwork, Shimizu's eyebrows would hone in on his eyes and she'd
reply,
"I will if you want me to."

"Can I call you by your first name?" he pushed again, sliding his fingers up her thighs to squeeze
the firm flesh of her rear. Shimizu would lean in close, pressing her chest against his--flesh on
flesh--and she'd drift her fingers down his muscles.

"If you want."

He'd pull her until she was splayed beneath him on her dark purple comforter. She'd watch him,
eyes wide and curious beneath the dark and the fading moonlight.

"Can I kiss you?"

"If you want."

And he'd pull himself above her, sink his chin down past her lips and against her earlobe. She'd
shudder then, her breath tickling his ear, and her body would move and buck against him while he
struggled inwardly to keep from being gentle and memorizing her like he wanted to.

He never called her by her first name. He never allowed himself to kiss her. He only sank as far as
he could within her before giving a certain thrust and sheathing himself inside Shimizu's skin. She
would always gasp, always moan, always clench around him a little tighter, always surprised by
the last of his length and the way he didn't give her another breath before he was pushing them
forward and forward and forward toward that damned cliff they built on their own.

And Oikawa sank his fingers around her like he sank his fingers around that string of sanity inside
him until it cut and made him bleed. Oikawa Tooru knew better than to let go, but the fine line
between who and what was beginning to blur the further and further he realized Shimizu was the
fucking ocean.

And some nights, it was exactly what he wanted it to be. And just when he thought he had a better
grasp, a better handle on what she did to him...

...just like that... it came to a strange and abrupt halt.

--

Oikawa walked into practice one Monday morning, fully expecting to find Shimizu's presence by
Coach Hinabe's side while the rest of the team secretly stared at her as she moved. He came
prepared, as he always did after a long night of denial and gut-wrenching longing.

Midterms had pulled Shimizu from Oikawa's weekly visits, and he was stuck with entertaining
himself and extending his practice hours to almost unhealthy lengths. Iwa-chan had once caught
him staring rather hungrily at Shimizu's rear and it took a while to convince him it meant nothing.

His hidden frustrations and carefully set aloofness that had taken a good morning run to achieve
suddenly went poof to a stretch of confusion and disorientation. Shimizu was not where she
usually was that morning, and when Oikawa gave the gym a good scan for a sign of her, her
presence came up lacking.

Oikawa pursed his lips, changed out of his shoes, and joined his team in warm-ups. His hyper-
awareness allowed him to spot the same confusion on his teammate's faces and expressions. It was
the first time Shimizu had not shown up for practice since the start of her probational position.

All too suddenly, Oikawa remembered that Shimizu's stay had never been announced as
permanent. There was no doubt the rest of the team caught on to that.
"Alright, gather around," coach Hinabe called them and squeaking sneakers on the wooden floor
grew silent when they stopped in front of him. "Today we'll be working on our serves and
combos--"

"Ah, coach," spoke up Ikibuki-san, his dark brown eyes narrowed with concern. "Is Shimizu-san
alright? We haven't seen her all morning."

"Shimizu-san's probational period as our manager is over," coach Hinabe said simply. "She has
requested that she needed to focus on her studies and decided not to remain with the team."

The words sank in Oikawa's mind as the rest of the team exclaimed in dismay. Shimizu-san's
probational period is over.

"But, coach, wasn't the probational period for only three months?"

"Yeah, she's been here longer than that, right?"

Coach Hinabe let out a sigh and shook his head, "She never formally accepted the position as the
manager. As much as I know you all wanted her to stay, she made her choice. Now, let's focus on
our training, alright?"

"Hinabe-san is right," the words fell past Oikawa's lips with a turn and a sway of charisma. The
most he could do while his mind felt empty. It all felt so strangely empty.

Was she...?

--

"Iwaizumi-san knows you pretty well, doesn't he?"

Oikawa tilted his chin to scratch the back of his neck. "I guess...we've been friends since we were
little. It makes sense."

"I agree." He turned around to see her smiling back at him, her blouse half-done and expression
amused. Sometimes she would open up to him, like seeing a spectacle from a moving train too
quickly before it disappeared. "I think you're very lucky to have a friend like him, Oikawa-san."

He pursed his lips and sighed, "Probably. Ah, sometimes I wish I were a girl, just so I could have
friends like girls can be friends. You know? I bet you have all kinds of kind friends, Shimizu. The
kind who don't kick you and say mean things for no reason."

She didn't say anything then, her smile disappeared. He was pressed down on her mattress before
he could gasp and wonder. "What would you like to do?"

"To you?"

"Yeah."

He pushed her until she was beneath him again and he was breathing heat against her ear. "Ever
been on top?"

--

She was gone.

Oikawa's eyes followed the strokes of her name as they stared back through the screen of his
phone. One, two, three...fifteen strokes that made up her name and cornered his mind. He stared at
them as they hung over his face, suspended between his fingers and the tingling in his arm that
came from laying down and keeping his arm in the air for a long time.

A flicker and Oikawa looked up at the time, then the date.

It's Friday.

With a sigh, Oikawa let his fingers go lax and the phone landed with a smack on his chin. He
flinched and turned a glare into his ceiling. His mind was a scratched record, but instead of one
memory, it was many. He'd remember how her touches would spark him into movement. He'd
want to ignore the way her fingers would accidentally touch his during practice, but it'd fail when
he recounted the most recent of her gazes.

She wore black flats like she was used to flying on a crow's wings. Pip-pip-pip went the gentle
rhythm of her pen--always gel, always black--against the cushion of her lower lip. This time, her
hair was up and pulled from her face, but that never stopped the ink of her hair to swing into silver
beneath the ray of the sun near her cheeks.

Oikawa felt his breath catch when he realized something just as she looked up and ahead.

This was it.

The best time to end it all before it truly began.

"Hey," he said, and he said it so easily when they were outside and taking separate ways. Shimizu
stopped and turned to face him, eyes wide, eyes curious. He kept his feet rooted even while his
mind dared him to fly back to their last weekend together--stop it. Don't make it sound romantic.
Don't make it sound like it was anything more than necessary--and her eyes stared up at him from
below. Wide. Curious. And her pupils were blown to the size of the ocean.

"Oikawa-san," she greeted and bowed slightly. It was then he caught sight of a charm bracelet on
her wrist. A volleyball and a crow glinted together in ways that shouldn't be normal.

"Is it true?" he asked her and she cocked her head before there was a dawn of understanding.

"Come with me," she said.

The sunlight brought out parts of her that the moonlight never could. Their feet stood at a
respectable distance apart, and in this part of the campus stairwells, no one would walk in on the
two of them. All the while, Oikawa struggled to keep himself rooted because she was radiant in
every part of the world and it was threatening to kill him.

"Coach said you're not joining us anymore," Oikawa said, tucking his hands in his pockets and
not knowing how he could smile at her through cold eyes.

"It's true," Shimizu replied, and she shifted to tug her bag strap comfortably over her shoulder. Her
fingers didn't fidget like he wanted to see, she didn't sway or appear nervous. His very presence
had been expected, like Saturday evenings and the canon fire of a volleyball. "I'm afraid I don't
have the time for it."

"Ah, the college life," Oikawa sighed dramatically, flinging his chin to throw his hair from his
eyes. "Understandable. But, I wouldn't be a loyal member if I didn't attempt to persuade you to
return to the team."

"Is that what you want?" she asked and the drama fell apart to a single note that always hung
between them. Oikawa felt the air tie into a knot in his throat and he swallowed to dispel it. He
wondered how she could look so poised, so well-composed.

"It makes little difference to me." The words were smoothened out through tempestuous teeth and
it was a miracle--a God-sent miracle--that he didn't grab her with all of his strength and pressed her
tight against the nearest wall. Watched the breath take pause over her tongue while he stretched
her to his will and pounded ecstasy into her veins.

Shimizu watched him, and he was wound so tight he missed the way her fingers flinched against
the fabric of her bag. "I see. Thank you for asking, but I've decided."

Oikawa nodded, smile still in place, hair still in place, fingers curled tight into fists beneath the
fabric of his pants. He took a step closer and kept his eyes right on hers, moved until the gleam of
sunlight flickered and curved within the lens of her glasses. She watched him, eyes wide and
appraising.

"What a shame," he said, and his breath brushed a stray lock that hung past her cheek. He was
close enough to touch her, close enough to finally taste. "The team will miss you."

"Please express my apologies to them," Shimizu said. She didn't move, but did tilt her chin when
he approached. Was she inviting him? Was she allowing him? In the tension of the moment,
Oikawa managed to drag tight fingers from his pants up the smooth flesh of her forearm, circling
his fingers around the slim of her wrist.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, and he could practically feel the way her eyes flickered down to his
mouth and behold the flesh there.

"If you want."

Those three words were the wall that kept him from having her all to himself.

The string held, and Oikawa smiled a little wider as he pulled away and pried his fingers off her
skin. Every step he took after was an echo of a heartbeat in his chest that felt like a hammer
slamming against his ribcage.

"See you later, Shimizu-san."

That was Tuesday. It was Friday. Tomorrow would come and he stared at the fifteen strokes of
her name on his phone, but he couldn't escape the nonsense of it all. He couldn't escape the
absence of her from the gym, from the floors, from the singing scream of every muscle his body
after every service ace.

The canon of volleyballs against his hands didn't make sense after that.

--

The air went cold by the time Oikawa realized how much time had passed since that Tuesday. His
clothes became thicker and the doors to the gym remained closed as the team reserved their times
to practice within the confines of degrees in celsius that preserved energy and effort.

In that time, Shimizu Kiyoko had suddenly disappeared from his life.

Every day that followed was covered in clouds and stars that formed no constellations. Every day
that followed was embellished in the characters his pen scratched on papers and the numbers he
received on them in red ink. Every day, he joined his teammates in conversation and focused on
tactics and energetic movements that stunned their opponents and placed them among the top
competitors in the region.

Every day, Oikawa Tooru wondered why his heart felt like a painting with the canvas torn to
shreds.

The distance between his desk and hers was only about a meter long, but for all that space could
give him, it would've made no difference if someone pointed out that there was a ravine at the
edge of his feet.

Every day that passed, Oikawa would forget more and more about her. How her voice would
grate or hitch or tighten against his ears. Or how her skin felt velvety smooth, always between her
legs, always in the curves of her throat. His hands ceased searching the unique rhythms she had
carved in his skin like fine grooves. Skin heals. The grooves were gone and the memory they left
was fading too.

"Okay, what the hell happened to you?"

Oikawa glanced up with a start. He glanced around, dark trees empty of leaves and now dusted in
snow surrounded the edges of the campus. He glanced back down, saw the thick coat around his
arms, the warm press of his gloves over his hands. He was sitting on the stoop by the opening of
the gym. As expected, Iwa-chan was glaring down at him, lips curled downward in a scowl.

"Ah~ Iwa-chan," Oikawa beamed. "Took you long enough. I was worried the Coach chewed
you up and spat you out."

A boot to his back was a nudge in the right direction, and Iwaizumi's annoyance tilted into where
Oikawa needed it to be. "The combo is working out fine, no thanks to you, you useless track of
scum."

"So mean!" Oikawa exclaimed and he let out a chuckling breath. He glanced back up and saw
Iwaizumi's expression darken, like stone after rain washed over its face.

"It's time you answer me, Oikawa," Iwaizumi said, his frown firm and unmoving. "What the hell
happened to you."

Oikawa tilted his chin before swinging himself to press his feet on the ground. With a grunt, he
hoisted himself to his feet. "I've no clue what you mean."

"Is this because of Shimizu?"

Her name was a taboo that froze him stiff and made the grin on his face feel like the worst kind of
lie.

He cleared his throat, "Who?"

The force of Iwa-chan's next punch was sure to knock him off his feet, yet Iwaizumi never
attacked without properly sinking his fingers around Oikawa's collar. There was no warning of
any kind for the abrupt movement to walk somewhere no one could see and spy on the next
barrage of anger. The joking kicks and irate punches were replaced by a shove and a brutal black
glare.

"You may think this act is enough to fool everyone," Iwaizumi snarled. Oikawa blinked in
surprise, tears of the first punch's initial pain running dry. "You may think it's enough to fool
yourself, but I've known you since we were kids and I know when you are lying. So cut the
bullshit and tell me why you look like you've had your heart kicked in the ass. And after you're
done with that, you figure yourself out and you get your head back on your shoulders. The team
may not know you well enough to call you out, but I do, and I'll be damned to hell and back
before I let you fuck yourself up anymore, got that?"

Oikawa blinked again, his jaw falling slack. Iwaizumi gave his collar a firm shake. "Got that?!"

He nodded quickly, more than scared to attempt an alternative response. With that, Iwaizumi let
out a huff through his nose and the air steamed out before disappearing behind him.

"Good," Iwaizumi let him go and Oikawa slumped back on the wall. "Now, talk."

Oikawa took in a deep breath, glanced up to the cloudy gray of the late afternoon sky and saw a
flock of crows flying over an empty tree. "We had sex..."

Iwaizumi's expression expanded to allow some surprise in. It flickered in and out before he let out
a sigh and shook his head. "For how long?"

"Since May."

"And she called it off?"

Oikawa shook his head, "I did."

"How long ago?"

"In August."

Iwaizumi rubbed his face with a gloved hand, "How the hell did you guys go out without anyone
knowing?"

The insinuation sent something colder and sharper in Oikawa's chest. "We never went out."

"But you said--"

"I said we had sex," Oikawa said, and he tugged his hands back in his pockets. "I never said we
were in a relationship."

The silence that followed was more than telling of Iwaizumi's surprise. Without another word,
Iwa-chan took a step back and settled next to Oikawa against the wall. The two stared out into the
cold sky above.

"Do you love her?"

"Love?" Oikawa huffed out, and the laugh that escaped him could've been a gut-wrenching cry.
"There was nothing between us to spark love, Iwa-chan. It was sex. Just simple, mind-boggling,
goddamn amazing sex that should've meant nothing the entire time we met. There was nothing
romantic about it, alright? She opened her door to me, and I'd press her against her mattress until
we both finished, but then I shoved my legs through my pants and walked out every time. She
never held me back, never told me to stay, she would just nod and say goodbye and be so
fucking proper about it...as if--as if I hadn't just made her scream minutes before. Best thing is, we
never even kissed, not once. Try and tell me that sounds like the right ingredients for a loving and
healthy relationship."

Iwaizumi said nothing for a moment, watching Oikawa as he pushed himself off the wall and spat
out words like curses and venom. When Oikawa was done he simply stared at his friend, waiting
for him to dare him to think otherwise, to make him believe that it was more than just a farce.
"Doesn't sound simple to me," Iwaizumi said at last. "If anything...it sounds like you are falling in
love with her. You're just too scared to admit it."

Oikawa stared at him, turned and let out a snort before whirling back around. "Alright, enlighten
me! Prove to me that that makes any sense at all after what I told you."

Iwaizumi tilted his chin, "You said, 'should've'."

Oikawa reeled, "I--what?"

"You said, the sex 'should've meant nothing', so...It must have meant something, right?" He said it
like it was the most obvious thing. Oikawa remained frozen for a moment looking at his friend to
the ground and back to his friend before his shoulders slowly unwound into a defeated slump.

"I didn't mean it like...what I meant to say..." Oikawa floundered for words, struggled to come up
with an argument that didn't make him seem so stupid. It couldn't be...it couldn't be.

Finally... "She always said, 'if you want'... every time I would ask her anything--if I wanted to kiss
her. if I could call her by her first name...and she would always say, 'if you want'..."

"Then why didn't you?" Iwaizumi asked. Oikawa brought his eyes back up to see his friend
standing just a few feet away. A small huff of rueful amusement buoyed Oikawa to the surface for
just a fragment of a second, his fingers were bleeding from holding on so long. Snow began to fall
around their heads. Without a warning, Oikawa was thrown on his back, head vibrating with the
force of Iwa-chan's latest punch.

"ACK--What the?!"

"God," Iwaizumi sighed with a huff. "You're an even bigger coward than I thought."

Oikawa stared up at his friend, cradling a bump on his skull as Iwaizumi reared up and pressed his
hands to his hips.

"Alright, you idiot, I'm going to give you a life lesson in love that you clearly need to understand.
You will never EVER find a girl like Shimizu Kiyoko, not on this planet or any other one. Girls
like her are one in a million, my friend, and that is a fact every single guy on earth could easily
understand. Yet ask yourself one question; are there any guys right now in her life?"

Oikawa gawked, before shaking his head. "I--I don't..."

"Are there any guys around that wouldn't sell their left arm to go on a date with her?"

"I--uh..."

"Wrong! Every week since Shimizu was a member of our team, I noticed she would get asked to
meet guys almost on a daily basis. Most--if not all--would do so on the hopes and aspirations that
she would consider them for a date, and every time, she's said no. How do I know? Because I'm a
fucking creep who followed her a few times only to make sure no one did anything stupid. The
point is, Shimizu has turned down every dude that came up to her and asked her out, and yet
here you fucking come along and she not only allows you into her home, but she had sex with
you. Multiple times. Now I may not be fucking Nostradamus, but regardless of her reasons, she
gave you, the guy with the biggest track list in heartbreaks, a chance. Is she a masochist? Is she a
sadist? I have no idea, but you did something to her, and she liked it for some weird ass reason.
Do you seriously--SERIOUSLY--believe that in the time she's allowed you into her room and into
her bed time after time, she hasn't grown to like you even a tiny little bit?"
Oikawa sighed, "It's not that simple--"

"Fuck simple," Iwaizumi cut him off brusquely. "I'm not talking simple, because while you were
so wrapped up in your own little world, I actually saw her the other day, Oikawa. I saw her and
she looked just as miserable and wretched as you do."

Oikawa frowned, eyes widening in surprise. "Wait... what?"

"I swear to god, this guy," Iwaizumi stormed around, turned to kick a loose rock with a hard kick.
"Unbelievable. It's no wonder you could never keep a girl around."

But none of that seemed to make sense, none of that followed after a simple image. The image of
Shimizu looking miserable...could such a thing even exist?

"Look, even if she was," Oikawa stood to his feet on shaky legs. "Even if she was, it's been too
long. She could be miserable about a million other things."

"Yeah, she could," Iwaizumi said and grabbed Oikawa around his shoulders. "But for once, do
yourself a favor, and go figure it the fuck out."

With a great big shove, Oikawa was flung on his feet. "But--wait, what should I do? What should
I say?"

"Jesus, how old are you?!" Iwaizumi shouted and he waved him off before turning around and
heading in the other direction. "You'll figure it out! You always do, anyway."

Oikawa watched his friend walk away. The cold surrounded him, sank into his lungs and made
his heart feel different in his chest.

He turned and walked in the other direction, walked and walked until his legs ached and begged
him to run.

So he did.

Oikawa Tooru ran.

--

TBC

Chapter End Notes

this was such garbage, I apologize. Oh well. till next time.
If It Means a Lot To You
Chapter Summary

If it means a lot to you - A Day to Remember ---- *screams*

He had sunk his hands into her skin and therefore into her system.

Oikawa Tooru, she believed, was an unapproachable guy with too many walls that consisted of
yearning girls and carefully constructed charisma. High-school showed Shimizu the lackluster
shine of Oikawa's attention, how he puffed his chest out and waltzed around failed to catch her
attention. If she remembered correctly, he had once attempted to flirt with her but quickly left
when she had barely glanced in his direction. That was that for Oikawa.

Shimizu graduated and life took her to a University where she would read letters and emails from
Daichi and Asahi--the two had chosen to stay in Miyagi, and there they visited their old alma
mater and helped coach when things got sticky for the new second years. News like Yachi's
success at finding a first-year boy to help her manage the team had Shimizu smiling, especially
when it became known that Yachi had grown into her role and had attracted special attention.
Tanaka and Nishinoya defended their manager with the same fire reserved for Shimizu back in the
day, and with this Shimizu was able to move on and consider new horizons.

Her old life had become a finished chapter she liked to look back on but never linger among its
pages.

Her first year of University came and went with a new development, a romance that had taken
Shimizu by a storm that left her feeling ravaged and empty at its end. Friendships she had built
burned by the flames, and soon, Kiyoko was alone with nothing but Sugawara's number on her
phone, and a quiet pleading on her tongue that tasted bitter and soulless.

"Come stay with me for a while," Suga's voice was gentle and inviting. He had always held her
hand when she pushed herself too hard, she always returned the gesture on the court, off the court,
near the streets. "The new ambiance will help you feel better, I promise."

And so, Shimizu packed her bags and traveled until her feet took her to Sugawara's apartment
door and the sanctuary his privacy provided.

"Thank you," she sighed when he pulled her close and pressed his nose to her hair.

"Anytime."

Covered in scarves and gloves, Suga walked her around the paved walkways of his campus and
talked to her about the life he had there, how he had friends who played all kinds of sports, and
about the University nearby that had a pretty strong volleyball team. Shimizu would wrap her
hands around a warm cup of tea and listen, feeling the start of a whim take hold of her with the
promise of something new.

The following days had her walking around the campus of the neighboring university, where she
learned of the programs and the better opportunities to pursue a brighter career. A few calls after,
an exam later, and Shimizu was saying hello to a new apartment that was only a short bus ride
from Suga's apartment. It was the start of something new, something fresh and clean and better.

The new semester began, and when she glanced up one day at the start of a new class, she was
met with the wide-eyed expression of none other than Oikawa Tooru himself.

The surprise was minor, a single observation and a curious hum of interest that left as quickly as
she turned her eyes back to their professor. A face from an old chapter, that's all he was.

"Oikawa?" Sugawara's voice was a bright note of surprise, melodious and warm enough to make
Shimizu smile. "Really? No idea he was in your school!"

"I'm surprised you haven't," Shimizu remarked as she balanced her phone between her shoulder
and ear. She stirred honey in a cup of earl gray and sat down on her couch. "He's really made a
name for himself here."

"Unsurprisingly," Suga replied with a chuckle. "Will you be okay?"

"Why do you ask?"

"It's Oikawa," Suga deadpanned. Shimizu pursed her lips and considered his words.

"Well, he hasn't approached me or anything. I doubt he remembers me." She leaned back and
tucked her knees against her chest. "I'll be fine."

"Let me know if he does do anything," Sugawara's voice was strained but there was a promise she
could trust. Shimizu smiled again and felt warmth bloom in her chest the more they spoke.

"The volleyball team here doesn't have a manager," Shimizu remarked twenty minutes later and
the color of their conversation had become nostalgic and focused on their old life in Karasuno.

"You should check it out!" Suga said. "I mean, chances are you'll bump into Oikawa there, but
maybe it'll help. You know...push away the bad things, bring in the good."

Shimizu's finger tapped the porcelain of her cup and realized that her life could use a change.
Time heals all wounds right?

--

Suga had been right about Oikawa being on the volleyball team. It came to no surprise to her
when Shimizu arrived and coach Hinabe introduced her to the team. She spotted him in an instant
and the way his eyes honed down over her made her feel a strange twinge of familiarity in her
stomach. She bowed, introduced herself, and held herself at a distance. She expected many things,
but when he kept his distance too, it filled her with relief.

College life had been hectic enough as it was, what with classes and homework, but the manager
job allowed her special time away from blushing guys who always seemed to find her when she
wanted time alone. The athletes on the team weren't all that different, but they gave her her space
and that's all Shimizu needed.

She was content, for the most part.

But her apartment was empty and offered her little relief from the silence despite the amount of
time she tried to conserve for Suga. Their schedules often conflicted throughout the semester, and
she was forced to stare at her walls and keep her fingers from tapping against her knees. She didn't
know what she needed until the silence was shattered.
"I want you." His grip had surprised her. Brown eyes peered into hers with honesty, surprise, and
a bizarre sort of sincerity that took her breath clean from her lungs. Shimizu felt her heart fall to
her stomach, just barely clinging to its place beneath her ribs.

"Why?" she asked, and for a moment, she was afraid, afraid that he would want to place her on
his arm to show to the world. To just take and take and take what she didn't have to give.

"Because I do, no other reason," his voice was cool, distant, but the sincerity was still there and
for the first time, Shimizu saw Oikawa Tooru.

"No other reason?" His grip on her wrist had left a ghost of desire over her skin. It swept over her
body like a wave of goosebumps and made her ache. He blinked, surprised. He didn't expect her
words. That was fine. She didn't expect them either.

He nodded, and Shimizu tugged her hair over her ear and realized her heart was pumping stronger
than it had in months. She finally said "Okay," and Oikawa visibly reeled at her acquiescence.

"Do you love me?" she asked him when his eyes had widened and he stumbled over his words.
He shook his head. Better.

So she took him into her apartment and she allowed him to fill the silence with questions that
made no sense to her--why ask to call her by her name if he was never going to use it? Why ask
her to kiss her if his lips never touched her own? why dare her to push him away if his fingers
shook when they grazed her clothes?--and soon, with the noises that came with a necessary
connection that had her clenching around his fingers and biting rivets against her lips.

He took her into her hands and shoved himself against her while keeping her at arms' length.
Shimizu collapsed into her bed after Oikawa had gone, and she didn't feel the silence when she
succumbed to the best sleep she's had in a long time.

--

Did she imagine it?

He had said, yes, right?

He must have changed his mind.

That was okay. He wasn't obligated to take her invitation.

That was okay.

It was okay.

The silence was deafening and she couldn't replicate the way his touches had left her feeling alive
for too short a moment.

He refused to look at her, kept his fingers tight on a volleyball and his focus inches away from her.
Shimizu sometimes would watch him while he prepared to serve, watched his eyes close in focus
and would remember the way he had groaned in her ear and had so skillfully sunk his fingers in
her heat. Her lips pursed and she'd turn her gaze away.

He wasn't obligated to take her invitation.

--
She met his gaze through the threshold of her door and her heart was in her throat before it sank
back down and she schooled herself into speaking his name. His lips curled into a smile, the same
she'd seen work on hundreds of girls before and it made her heart sink further.

She let him in, focused on keeping her fingers steady, wondered why he had shown up out of
nowhere. And then he was in front of her, watching her while she tugged his name into her phone
and into a strange part of her life.

"I want you."

Her stomach gave a wobble and her heart dared her to push him away. She had no space in her
life for a person who ran all the time. So she tucked her phone away and met his gaze with a
challenge.

"You aren't afraid?" his eyes flashed with her question and the walls came back up. She didn't like
those walls. It made her want to dig her fingernails deep into them to tear them down and that was
dangerous. Still, his thumb grazed her lip and the touch was electric, made the silence in her
apartment waver with a renewed promise.

"Why would I be afraid?"

He sounded cocky, almost overly so. His eyes spoke a different story, though. She pushed.

"You haven't looked at me in over a month."

"I was busy with other things." She almost believed him, except for the part that she knew he
didn't even believe himself. How she did should have sent alarms ringing in her mind, but instead,
she twisted her chin to pucker her lips against the warmth of his palm. Shimizu pushed, let her
eyes narrow over his, darken with just enough daring that it made his touch heat up.

"I was worried you had fallen for me." The moment of truth. Oikawa's lips stretched with
amusement, one that made her shiver, one that made her wonder.

"What sort of idiot do you think I am?"

Shimizu couldn't deny the burst of amusement in her chest, knew full well what he was expecting,
especially after weeks of seeing him banter with Iwaizumi. Oikawa spotted the amusement easily
and his arrogance fell for a sort of wounded pride of a smile that lasted long enough to die when
he brushed his cheek against hers.

"Unless you want to push me away for sure this time."

It was strange but, Shimizu realized she honestly didn't want to. The alternative meant silence,
meant staring at her walls and wishing to turn back the pages that should be left alone. She would
be a fool to admit it though.

"If you want... I could do that." but her fingers were sinking under his shirt and letting him tug her
pajamas over her head. She gripped and let her fingers curve over the edges of his skin and didn't
want him to leave.

She was a coward too, as it happened.

"Can I call you by your first name?" Too intimate.

"If you want."
"Can I kiss you?" Too soon.

"If you want."

Yet, he never did and Shimizu would ask herself why long after he was gone and long after his
touches faded to silence.

--

Every Saturday, like clockwork, Oikawa would appear at her door just minutes after he would
text her, Can I come over?

If you want.

Every Saturday, Oikawa would show up and smile big and wide despite the present barrier that
was the width of a threshold between them. He'd always have bright words to say, speak words
that would have her wonder at the walls he hid behind, and then become so unnervingly quiet
when she allowed him into her bed.

At first, his appearances only supplied enough stress relief to let her sleep soundly. But every time
after that, his words would take meaning and she would get rare insights into his life that she
wasn't sure she was prepared for.

So, Shimizu pushed him down, let him bite at her throat, and make heated noises sing from her
throat.

and every Saturday night, he would never linger, never hold her for long, and he would never,
ever, call her by her first name. The silence that came every time became something that clung to
her bed after, so Shimizu would stay awake sometimes. Her mind would wander, and she'd dream
he was still beside her, dragging lazy touches over her skin and asking her more than he already
did.

But he'd surprise her. Break from routine and sometimes sit for a little longer, and let his fingers
take in the sounds she pushed out through every hint of pressure he hid under her clothes. It was
little things like this that made her body tingle more than with desire, it made her shake and wish
to let him in a little more.

Then he would leave, and sometimes she would stare at her phone. Sometimes she would feel the
fear grip her again when she realized that she had forgotten to text Sugawara back if he had
messaged her with a "hey, wanna hang out? It feels like it's been forever!"

How would he take it if she told him she was sleeping with Oikawa?

Shimizu tucked her phone back inside her pocket and only responded with small words that left
her in silence all over again.

Secrets had never been a thing between her and Sugawara. Secrets had been everything with the
flames that had burned her. Secrets made her realize what she was doing.

She couldn't do it anymore.

Shimizu wrote a quick email to Coach Hinabe the following morning.

Thank you for allowing me to work as the team's manager for this time period. I'm afraid I can no
longer be the manager as I must put my focus on my studies. I appreciate the opportunity and
look forward to hearing more from the team.
Her fingers tapped on Suga's name for the first time in ages.

"Hey," she said and her voice broke the silence. "Wanna hang out?"

It was a Sunday morning and Sugawara greeted her with a warm bean bun and a grin on his face.
Shimizu reached over and gripped his fingers with a strength that surprised him, surprised her.

"You okay?" Sugawara asked and when she peered into his eyes she saw something she had
never seen in Oikawa's face. That alone made her do something incredibly stupid. She reached up
and tugged him down into a soft, yet desperate sort of kiss. Suga stiffened, stared down at her until
his face turned pink and he stammered out her name.

"Sh-Shimizu?"

"Sorry," she said, but her fingers were still around his and she felt like a traitor. She felt so terribly,
terribly flawed. "I shouldn't have done that..."

Suga stared at her for a moment before tugging her in another direction. A quiet walk made her
insides squirm with fright and regret, but Suga turned around and grinned at her.

"We can forget about it if you want." If you want... if you want...

She pulled her lips between her teeth and her heart was shaking. "Do you want that?"

Sugawara's smile turned gentle.

"No..." he said, and he stepped close enough for her to touch. "But, if you want this, just say so."

If you want... if you want.

"Kiss me again."

and he did, and for two days, Shimizu felt Suga sink a different song into her ears and keep the
silence at bay. He bought her a bracelet, a charm. A crow and a volleyball hung around her wrist.
Shimizu felt safe. Shimizu felt secure.

Then Tuesday came... and then it went. Taking Oikawa with it.

--

He approached her first and that was strange.

Oikawa approached her and it made her insides curl with ice and a strange desire to run away.
Shimizu held her ground and led him somewhere far from peering eyes. She would not push him
anymore. Not with Suga tied to her wrist and her heart at a brink it was too weak to handle.

"Coach said you're not joining us anymore."

Shimizu adjusted the strap of her bag. His eyes were cold. This was different now.

"It's true," she said. It was over. This is over. "I'm afraid I don't have the time for it."

"Ah, the college life," Oikawa sighed and she watched how sunlight split and curled around his
face, his eyes, and she followed the way his hair swung over his head. Her insides tightened
unexpectedly. "Understandable. But, I wouldn't be a loyal member if I didn't attempt to persuade
you to return to the team."
His words seemed to mock her. Taunt her with the size of the walls he has built around himself
and the knowledge that she had been wedged between them. Her fingernails were bleeding from
digging. In or out? She couldn't know. She didn't want to know.

"Is that what you want?" she asked anyway. Last chance...

"It makes little difference to me." Cruel, necessary. Her facade broke around her fingers and she
curled them a little tighter around her bag. Shimizu stopped pushing.

"I see. Thank you for asking, but I've decided."

But this time, he did. Oikawa stepped close, poised and ready. He was pushing her. Why now, of
all times?

"What a shame," he was so close now. Close enough for him to bend down and answer the
question that was never answered between them. "The team will miss you."

"Please express my apologies to them." Shimizu was overwhelmed for a small moment, so much
that her body shifted just a bit in his direction. The bracelet on her wrist slid as she clenched her
fingers around the strap of her bag. His fingers wrapped around her other wrist, bare and open.

"Can I kiss you?" Her throat felt tight.

"If you want."

He didn't. He didn't. He never, ever did.

Shimizu watched him pull away, release her wrist and turn around.

"See you later, Shimizu-san."

He walked away and Shimizu watched until her vision burned and her lips sunk tight between her
teeth. She watched him leave and she turned around and walked and walked until her feet carried
her to Sugawara's apartment.

"Hey," Suga greeted her, warm smile falling when she peered up at him through wretched eyes.

"I need to talk to you."

--

Her relationship with Sugawara pushed her from the heat of summer into the lull of a late fall
breeze. She had expected him to reject her after she admitted to her late-night rendezvous with
Oikawa. Needless to say, he was surprised and frighteningly silent after she explained everything.

"Do you love him?"

The question took her for a spin and she shook her head. Sugawara smiled at her, one that didn't
meet his eyes. He pulled her close and then pressed a kiss to her hair.

"Okay."

They met every day after school and through the end of the semester. Each day brought on a chill
and a desire to hide behind tea cups and into Sugawara's arms. Shimizu closed her eyes and
listened to the way Suga's heart beat in her ears and pushed the silence away.

"Shimizu," he whispered into her ear one night after the movie on his screen ended and she was
dragging her fingers over his abs. "Do you want to..."

His words ended when she allowed her hand to drag further south and her lips took the last of his
question. Suga led her to his room and pressed her against his mattress. She was surrounded by
him, swallowed by him, taken by him.

"Kiss me." and he did.

"Say my name."

"Shimi--"

"My first name."

Suga's eyes widened until his lips parted and said, slowly, reverently, "Kiyoko."

and Shimizu dug herself into his chest until the ache in her was satisfied and the silence was taken
from her ears and pushed deep into the darkness of her bed.

For three months, Shimizu smiled and laughed and held herself tight to Sugawara's arms until she
was certain everything was alright.

For three months she convinced herself she was happy.

For three months she stayed away from her apartment as much as she could. And at the end of her
third month, when she decided she was strong enough to go back to her apartment to gather a few
more things, Shimizu was met with a familiar face that froze her stiff. Her fingers went slack and
her purse fell with a thump on the ground.

His eyes were wide, frantic, needing. His lips and cheeks were pink and bitten by the wind and
desperation. There, standing just a few feet from her door, covered in snow and panting as though
he had sprinted his entire way there...

was Oikawa Tooru.

--

TBC
A Faint Illusion
Chapter Summary

A Faint Illusion - Tides of Man (because apparently this song is perfect for this I
guess)

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

He loved her.

Probably since high school, probably the very moment he saw her. How could he not? Shimizu
Kiyoko was the picture of Japanese beauty. But, ultimately it was not her beauty that captivated
him, it wasn't her athleticism, it wasn't even the beauty mark by her lip that eventually sealed the
deal for him. It was her. The way she laughed, the way she saved her smiles for him, the way she
had worked hard from the sidelines to make sure no one wanted for anything. It was the way
she put her foot down with the fools and the way she took on the burden of manager without
complaint and never with unwillingness. Before long... he realized he had fallen pretty deep in
love with Shimizu Kiyoko.

It's pretty ridiculous how long it took him to realize it, really. It only took a few years and having
her press her hands around his fingers to get him to realize exactly how deep he was in it for her.
He had always considered himself pretty average... but a moron? No...

Because it would take a moron to be completely blind that Shimizu's heart had already been seized
and captured.

Sugawara Koushi believed, at least, he was not a moron.

An idiot, though? You bet your ass he would take on that title with all the pain and shame that
came with it. Because he had to be to let her kiss him when he knew she was in love with
someone else. And that someone else was Oikawa Tooru, of all people.

In a way, he should have seen it coming. That night when she had called him on the phone and
his name came up, Suga felt a twinge in his chest, a sense of foreboding. Oikawa had always had
a trail of girls running after him, but this was Shimizu. There was no chance she'd give that guy a
chance. Not in a million years! Still, the sense remained in his chest and strained his voice, but
Suga smiled and encouraged her. He had encouraged her...

It didn't matter that she had pulled him down, pressed her lips to his in a kiss he would have never
expected, ever. But he dared not let his hopes shoot up, especially when she stared up at him with
such hidden desperation. She was hiding, she was using him... anybody else would have said no,
would have grabbed Shimizu by the shoulders and told her to stop being a moron and face her
feelings. As it happened, Suga wasn't anybody else.

"Kiss me again."

And he was an idiot to think that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to be the person Shimizu
would actually love with all her heart and mind. He tried. He got her that bracelet, the charms, a
symbol of all their history and how beautiful it looked draped around her wrist. She had smiled at
him, asked him to put it on for her and giggled when he fumbled with the clasp.

"Is this okay?" He asked her and she stared at it with a smile that didn't quite fill her eyes. The
twinge in his chest curled a little tighter.

"Yes, I love it."

Suga smiled, cheeks burning when she scootched close and pressed a kiss to his jaw and sunk
against his arms. This was everything he could have possibly wanted... he was an idiot. But he
wasn't a moron, so he wasn't surprised when she arrived at his doorstep, shoulders slumped and
eyes blotchy with unshed tears.

"I need to talk to you."

"Come in, is everything okay?"

"Suga...I'm sorry, I...I haven't been forthright with you..."

And the name Oikawa Tooru came up and she told him how she'd been seeing him, how Oikawa
had pressed her to her sheets every Saturday night before midterms of their summer semester, and
how she couldn't handle keeping this a secret from him. Suga said nothing as she spoke, only
extended a hand for her to grip to when the tears finally fell past her cheeks and her lip shook with
how hard she was trying to stay composed. She was beautiful... a beautiful, beautiful picture of
needless suffering and it dared him to let her go. He was an idiot.

After a while and she had finished chanting, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Suga reached over
and brushed his fingers over her cheeks to wipe her tears and hair from her face. She had flinched
but let him in, and when he met her gaze behind her glasses, he smiled and remained gentle. Her
grip on his clothes tightened until she was glued to his side. Finally, Suga brushed his lips over her
forehead and asked the one question that threatened to break him.

"Do you love him?"

She said nothing for a little while and then she shook her head. Ah...of course.

Sugawara smiled at her, brought her in close and let her dig herself into his chest. Because she
needed him. And he would be an even bigger idiot not to be there for her when she was so
terribly, terribly in over her head.

"Okay," he said.

Shimizu pulled away, her eyes crinkled with confusion. "Okay?"

"Yes," Suga said, he hid his pain by smiling. "Whatever happened between you and Oikawa
doesn't change how I feel about you."

That will be true no matter what happens... no matter what will happen.

And as the days morphed into weeks filled with her laughter and with the way she dragged her
hands into his soul, and those weeks turned into one month--two months--three... Sugawara
allowed his grip to tighten every morning he woke and she was still clinging to his side. He
memorized her skin, her breaths, and little moans. He memorized the way she blinked up at him
with warm eyes and a lazy smile, because...

Because she was not his... but for that specific moment, she was. And he would be a bigger idiot
to not enjoy her while he had her.

"Kiyoko..." He spoke her name with all the love he had just for her, and the twinge in his chest
would tighten into little rocks in his heart when she smiled but he knew that that wasn't enough.

For those three months, Sugawara lived with Shimizu as her boyfriend and confidant, and for
those three months, Suga worked until he knew the last of her fear was melting away. He could
see it in her eyes, how she faced the day with calm and how she no longer feared silence. The
stronger she got the less she would need him... and it was like this that he knew he could never
keep her.

It was snowing late in the morning when she stood from their bed--because it had become theirs
and not just his--and she turned and gave him a beautiful smile. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Yeah," he said and chuckled when she rolled her eyes at him. "You going somewhere?"

"Mmhm. I need to go to the store to buy a few things and then I'm going to go grab a few things
from my apartment that I need. Do you want me to get you anything while I'm out?"

The twinge returned and Sugawara stared at her for a long moment until she turned to look at him
curiously. No... please not yet. He pushed himself to sit up and let out a sigh.

"Suga?" she paused and he knew she would stay if he asked her. He knew she would probably
sink back into the covers with him if he asked her. He knew that she would stay if he said so. He
could come up with a million excuses to keep her. Please...please tell her to stay. She can still
stay.

"Mm-mm," Sugawara shook his head and beamed up at her. "I'm alright. Let me know if you
need help with anything."

Shimizu tilted her chin at him for a second before her lips stretched again and he was proud, so
proud to see her look so whole and he hoped she wouldn't run away anymore. She stepped in
close and swooped down to press another kiss to his lips, one that he tugged into the deepest part
of his heart and treasured with everything he had. She pulled away and sighed.

"See you soon."

"Bye..." Suga murmured. The door closed after her. Goodbye, Shimizu.

Some time later, Sugawara slid into a pair of jeans and a coat, fingers shaking as he searched
through his contacts and pressed the 'call' button. The snow spun and spun and Sugawara
contained the twinge in his chest from exploding into full-blown agony.

"Hey, Suga, what's up?"

"Hey, Ikibuki-san. Does your brother still play volleyball for the neighboring university?"

"Well, yeah, he's the ace of the team. Why do you ask?"

Sugawara's grip on his phone tightened until the plastic squeaked with protest. His smile never
wavered. "There's someone on the team that I need to talk to."

--

When he had turned around, Oikawa was long gone. Iwaizumi stared in the direction he had last
seen his best friend before letting out a sigh and chuckling to himself. He turned and continued
heading towards the parking lot.

He was reaching for his keys when his phone began to ring. He glanced down at the screen and
raised a brow when he didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

"Ah--yes, Iwaizumi-san?"

"Speaking," Iwaizumi replied, fumbling for the key of his bike. The snow was beginning to stick
to the seat and his helmet.

"Sorry to bother you. I'm Sugawara--Sugawara Koushi. I used to be in the Karasuno team."

Karasuno? Sugawara? Iwa's mind worked as he tried to recall the name. A quick trip down
memory lane teased him with a recount of an old game and seeing Oikawa's eyes hone down
predatorily and with a begrudging respect over the pale-haired setter who had helped orchestrate
Seijoh's downfall. Mr. Refreshing... That's what Oikawa called him. Iwaizumi's eyes widened and
the keys fell from his grip. What was this about?

"Yeah, I remember you. What can I do for you?"

"Well, that depends. Are you free right now?"

A strong breeze blew at him and he sighed, "I guess, but you've got to tell me what this is about."

"It's about Shimizu--Shimizu Kiyoko." Ah, that made sense.

"What about her?"

"I'm her boyfriend."

This time, Iwaizumi nearly dropped his phone too. Shit. Shit, oh shit, oh shit.

"...There's a ramen shop just a street down the main plaza."

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

--

TBC

Chapter End Notes

also sorry sorry sorry for how short this is. My brain isn't really working as it should
but eh... whateves right? also, I nearly made myself frigging cry because my baby
Suga is hurting. God what is wrong with me.
Pyramid
Chapter Summary

Pyramid - Uchu Conbini

A flurry picked up minutes after the door to the cafe opened and shut behind Iwaizumi. Gloved
hands cradled the hot thermos close as his narrow eyes glanced around, searching for a face not
too familiar for him to pick out by memory. Spiraling snowflakes spun and fell by the thousands
all around, blurring the edges of anything too far away. At this point, he wondered if he could
pick out the fair silver hair of the former crow player. Luckily there wasn't much of a breeze for
Iwaizumi to hide from, just the occasional gust that had slapped flakes into his nose and eyes. He
frowned and continued his trek through the slosh and gathering dunes of snow on the concrete
ground.

Iwa flicked a bit of ice from his nose after a flake skipped into his face and then he spotted the
dark gray coat and black scarf of one Sugawara Koushi. Judging by the look on the man's face, he
looked like he was expecting him and not at all sorry for the state of the weather even if he gave
an apologetic smile.

"Great weather, isn't it?" Suga said, smiling as if it were sunny and bright instead of Hoth-like
state of the day.

"You call this great?" Iwa grumbled through a wrinkled lip. Suga grinned.

"Nah, it's awful. Wanna go over there?"

Iwa followed the line of sight from Suga's gloved finger, motioning towards a small park where a
Gazebo overlooked a small hill. It was a modest little place, huddled by large trees that no doubt
bloomed prettily in the spring. Iwa raised a brow at him and Suga caught the look of wariness.

"I'm not going to confess my feelings to you," Suga said with a shake of his head. "It's private and
I rather not have to deal with anyone listening in right now."

Iwa pursed his lips but didn't argue. Despite Sugawara's congenial attitude, it became obvious
their conversation would not be as lighthearted and thereby regard the one topic Iwa was most
nervous talking about. It only occurred to him, a few moments later as the duo walked through the
snow, that Sugawara had most likely acted so kindly to soothe his nerves. It had the opposite
effect. All Iwa could focus on was trying to spend every chance he could to seize up the posture
of the man walking a foot ahead--was he hiding tight fists in his coat pockets? Had he chosen not
to buy anything in the cafe in fear of causing a scene? Ah, wait, that can't be right. Oikawa didn't
call him Mr. Refreshing because he was secretly hiding a dark side or anything. Right? Who could
say really? Sometimes it's the real nice guys that turn into complete psychos after all--

"Iwaizumi-san."

Iwa straightened, caught off-guard when he realized they were already beneath the gazebo's roof.
He found Sugawara sitting down by one of the benches, looking at him with curious expression.
Iwa shook his head and took a seat a few feet away. He hissed slightly. The wood was freezing
even through the thick wool of his coat. He took in a sip of his hot chocolate and sighed a puff of
steam.

"Alright, what's up," Iwa said as he met Suga's gaze certainly. He would be loath to admit he was
inwardly squirming and hoping to get through this as quickly as possible. He wasn't going to lie to
himself. This was not an easy situation to be in. Yet, despite his own easy going reply, Sugawara
gave him a soft laugh.

"Sorry, I guess this isn't the easiest conversation we're walking into, huh?"

Iwa shrugged, eager to get the ball going. "Whatever."

"Right," Suga said before glancing down at the wooden planks before them. Iwa blinked to look
at them, finding snow and leaves glued to the wooden floor, slick with snow and almost gray to
match the day. A long minute passed between them, yet Iwa didn't dare push for an actual start. A
mere glance told him all he needed to know about Sugawara's state of mind. Despite the warm
smile he had given Iwa earlier, his eyes were weighed by heavy bags and his eyes were a little
blood-shot.

"I've known Shimizu for a long time," Suga said after a while. "Since we were kids. I never really
talked to her that much, she was one of the prettiest girls I knew, and when we reached high
school, all everyone saw was the beauty she grew into. I was surprised when she agreed to be our
manager. I'd seen her put her passions in other sports and she was talented... So I had no idea why
she gave it all up for the chance to help a bunch of stupid boys reach their own dream of going to
nationals."

Sugawara tilted his head back and let out a deep sigh, white steam bursting from his lips before
disappearing just as quickly. "It took me three years to finally understand her. Really get her. I
never thought I did though, but there was something that was so familiar between us. I didn't
know what it was until after we graduated. Of course, life took her elsewhere and all that kept us
connected were the weekly phone calls and the day-to-day texts. Even then she hid a lot from me,
even after knowing how much I knew and understood..."

Suga smiled and it was so sad Iwa was momentarily taken aback from it. "I didn't ask you down
here to seize up the enemy, Iwaizumi-san. Oikawa-san has never been an enemy...well perhaps
once, long ago, but never when it came to Shimizu. I just want to know what kind of guy he really
is, if you don't mind."

Iwa's eyebrows rose to tease his hairline, his mouth fell slack for a moment. Suga misjudged the
expression and waved his hands in a surrendering gesture.

"Sorry, I didn't realize that was a rude request..."

"It's not," Iwa replied. He straightened in his seat and cradled his hot chocolate between both
hands. "If I have to answer truthfully, you may not like what you hear."

Suga's hands lowered to his lap, his eyes narrowed. "...Ah."

"Because truthfully, Oikawa isn't a knight or a suave character," Iwa said as he sat back. "Simply
put, Oikawa is a moron."

Sugawara's face fell in surprise, eyebrows furrowing for a moment. Iwa wasn't perturbed by the
reaction. In fact, he felt as if a weight had been removed from his shoulders.

"He's arrogant and obnoxious as all hell. He's an idiot when it comes to admitting his own
feelings, especially when its about something important. He only focuses on what's ahead instead
of what's in front of him, and honestly, it's a wonder he has a track record as one of the
university's most sought after bachelors, because he's a fucking basket case. The team actually has
a betting pool going for the next thing that happens to him."

He pauses to take a sip of his hot chocolate as Sugawara registers his words with a shocked look.

"Oh yeah, like two girls finding out he's been seeing them at the same time. Which girls would
slap him, which would cry. Which would kick Oikawa in the balls. At one point some of us even
bet he would make a dumbass move on Shimizu-san," Iwa said this with a snort, shaking his head
again. What amusement lit his eyes faded as he remembered how Oikawa kept himself certainly
away from their probational manager. "You'd imagine the surprise when the days would pass and
he'd pretend she didn't even exist. I had to tell the guys that they didn't have a history and squash
that rumor before it started."

Iwa waved his hand flippantly as he took another sip and let out a sigh. "What's worse, he's a
coward. Sure he's eager and he's a beast on the court, but his power and focus on volleyball is
what keeps him from dealing with his own issues like a regular person. He'd rather hide than
admit he has real feelings for someone and by the time he's ready to admit it, it's too late."

"Oikawa? What are you doing here, dude? I thought you had a date with Eri-san?" he regretted
saying that the moment he saw Oikawa turn around, signature grin on his face. Iwa spotted the
phone at his side, the way his fingers barely clung to the plastic in a defeated hold.

"It wasn't working out," Oikawa said, chin far too high for someone clearly needing a cry.
"Anyway, wanna work on that new quick?"

Iwa tapped a finger on the lid of his cup, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "Even now... I can't
say for sure if he's going to follow his heart or not this time..."

He stopped short, freezing when he realized who he was sharing this with. Iwa glanced up and
winced when he saw that same look of pain hidden behind a rueful smile on Suga's face. Shit.

"You know," Suga said. "I never thought I'd say this but Oikawa and I are a lot more similar than
I previously thought."

Iwa bit his lower lip and said nothing. Snow continued to fall by the thousands all around them,
and in this moment, he had nothing to say. Sugawara stood and bowed, surprising Iwaizumi once
more.

"Thank you for your time, Iwaizumi-san," Suga said. When he stood back up there was a bright
smile on his face and Iwaizumi was struck by a feeling of déjà vu. "I don't have anything to worry
about anymore."

Iwa frowned as Suga began to walk off. "Why do you say that?"

Sugawara paused at the mouth of the gazebo, snowflakes falling over his coat and hair. "I never
did tell you this, Iwaizumi-san, but... well, Shimizu is kind of an idiot." He waved back at
Iwaizumi, nose red--from the cold or from an awaiting burst of emotions, Iwaizumi would never
know--and smile heart-breakingly wide. "But she's much better here than anywhere else."

With a final bow, Sugawara disappeared into the flurry and snow. Iwa watched him leave long
after his footsteps faded away, his mind followed the line of thought until he had a smile on his
face. We're all just a big bunch of idiots chasing perfection.

Iwa let out a small laugh, "I'm completely surrounded."
Gray eyes meet chestnut brown. Undeniable.

Oikawa feels his heart in his throat as surely as he's felt it thrum between his fingers and mind in
moments where precision is needed, where the right moment is just an inch away. Shimizu was
right before him. More perfect than the right moment could ever be. She's ethereal but she is flesh
and blood and more than deep intake of air wedged behind his teeth at the peak of a perfect serve.

More than ever, he feels like an idiot.

His hair was windblown, clothes hanging off him and his knees were wet from having slipped on
ice one too many times. He was not the suave character he had always given her. Not here. Not
even if he tried. Instead, he gapes at her, stares at her in a moment of stunned silence, because he
had prepared this moment down to the muscle memory of knocking on her door and sweeping her
off her feet. Yet, there she was, standing on the same side of her door as he is, and far too far
away for him to hurry close to sweep her off her feet like he wanted.

Neither of them dared breathe a word, still too caught up in the moment, in this moment. He thinks
he should try to walk up to her, say nothing, pull her into his arms and just kiss her. It's almost too
Hollywood for it not to work, yet he can't move his legs. He's trapped within the stunned silence
of her gaze and her pink parted lips. She breathes in and it releases him, allows him to draw a
breath and attempt to hide his panting.

"Oikawa...san?" she is reasonably surprised, taken aback, what have you. "What...?"

He tries to think of something. Cool? Honest? Say nothing and be all Hollywood? Lie?

"I...uh," the words fumble out his mouth before he can reign them in. The feeling of idiocy does
not leave, but it does leave the promise of not leaving any time soon. He looks away, cheeks
flushing dark. Idiot, you didn't even think this through did you? Just leave.

I didn't come all this way...

He bites down on the inside of his cheek and he realizes then that he's shivering. His hands feel as
though they have been dipped and then frozen stiff in ice. Everything about this turned out
nothing like he expected, wanted, needed. But she's right there... she's closer now than she has
been in so long... longer than he had allowed himself to care for someone else.

"I was...in the neighborhood," he says finally, realizing how lame it sounds spoken than in his
mind. Perhaps, if he hadn't said it like such a complete waste of space.

"Oh," Shimizu replies. He doesn't stop himself from glancing up, he can't help it. She's looking at
the ground ahead of her, shoulders hitched, gloved hands tightening around the hem of her deep
maroon pea-coat. "I see..."

He doesn't know how to take the way her eyes avoid him. Was she disappointed? Did she expect
something else? Did she want him to leave? He spots her fallen purse on the ground just as she
moves. He doesn't know how he can move now, only that he does and he's reaching to pick it up,
probably say something suave then. Instead, her hand grabs the edge just as his grabs the handle.

"Let me--" he begins but stops when he realizes that now she's only an inch away. Her eyes, that
deep blue gray, are wide and he can see through them almost completely. The surprise, the
nerves... everything becomes open to him so abruptly he freezes. She doesn't.

Shimizu moves with speed, snatching her purse away and hooking the handle over her shoulder
before bowing. He just stares up at her, watching with his jaw slack as she mumbles a
quick excuse me and walks around him to her door.
"Shimizu!"

She stiffens just as she reaches the handle of the door. She does not turn around when he collects
himself, pushes himself back to his feet and takes those perilous steps close until he's right behind
her and his eyes are burning holes of desperation on the back of her head.

"I lied," he says and his heart is in a vice, suspended over a cliff. "I lied..."

"About what?"

He almost says about his reason for being in front of her door, but her words carry a weight to
them that dig deeper past the initial reactions and into the real reasons. The vice hangs further over
the cliff and that feeling of fear, dread, and terrifying vertigo threaten to overtake him. Iwaizumi's
angry look is enough to keep him from turning and running away. He remembers that moment on
the staircase, her hair and being covered in light, looking radiant and perfect and unreal. He had
wanted to grab her, touch her, just reach and allow that moment of perfection enter him. Instead he
ran.

Weeks of misery and nights spent staring at the flat wall next to his bed taunted him with
permanence. He could break through them right now. Or they could stay forever until he was
faced with a new chance, a new opportunity to taste perfection...

"You."

Her head shifts, lifts. She turns and when she turns around, he sees a wall in her eyes. A tall, tall
wall. The looks she gives is one of contemplation and after a short moment she nods and looks
away. Without a word, he watches her fish her keys from within her purse and stab the key into
the lock. A series of clicks follow before she turns the knob and pushes the door open. It's dark
inside, as if she hadn't been living in there for weeks.

"Come in."

She steps inside without another word and he hesitates for a moment. All this way.

He follows and the door slides shut behind them.

Shimizu turns on the lights to her apartment as Oikawa pulls off his shoes at the doorway. It's just
as cold inside as it is outside and the thought makes his throat tighten. She moves about her
apartment as though she hadn't invited him in; dropping her things in their place, keys in a ceramic
bowl, coat over a hook. She disappears into her apartment as he stares and marvels at the familiar
yet unfamiliar peculiarity of it all. He takes in a deep breath through his nose and catches the faint
scent of her.

She pulls out a small heating appliance from inside a closet and sets it on inside the living room.
As he ventures deeper inside, he feels a strange pull from the direction of her bedroom and its as if
something is prodding at him to slink from her eyes and to see the room where everything began
between them. How complicated...

"Would you like some tea?" she asks, tone prim. Proper. Oikawa feels more like a stranger than a
friend, but when had he ever been her friend? (Oh probably all those nights you spent talking with
her before screwing her. Maybe something felt too close to friendship then, too close to an
affection that felt frightening then. Dumbass.)

"Ah, sure," he says because he doesn't know what else to say. It's really cold in here.
He sits on her couch like a stranger though. He waits as she moves around in her kitchen and
though he wants to be close to her, that wall between them is keeping him firmly still. Ceramic
and steel clatter gentle as she works, and minutes of silence later she brings a tray. Two empty
cups, a heated kettle, and a plate of crackers. She pauses as she sets them down and then heads
back into the kitchen. When she returns it's with a small sugar holder.

She sets it down and Oikawa can't help but feel the pressure between them tighten.

"I hate bland things," Oikawa said once, sticking his tongue out petulantly after taking a sip of her
tea.

"I think I brewed it okay," she says but hides a smile behind her cup. "Sorry, I don't have sugar."

"S'fine," Oikawa mutters and downs the cup anyway. The following Friday he realizes the sugar
packets in his pocket won't be put to use after she sets down the sugar by the kettle. He yanks her
into bed once their tea is downed, because he feels something like a confession teasing the back of
his throat and he needs to drown that out with a rhythm and pace that keeps them breathless and
incoherent.

He jerks away from the memory just as she settles a respectful distance away and he reaches over
to grab his cup. He notes then that she had already served him and was holding her mug on her
lap, letting the heat of her tea sink into her gloves. He does the same, yet the heat prickles fiercely
against his cold numbed hands. A moment later, he takes a sip and realizes he's forgotten to take
the sugar into his tea. He doesn't want to at this point.

"Shimizu," he says and swallows. She glances up to meet his gaze. He feels like they're at the
beginning, but not, because this isn't a beginning. He doesn't know how to talk to her now, but he
figures being honest won't hurt. "I don't know where to start..."

"You don't usually," Shimizu replies. His lips quirk into an almost smile, but he can't follow
through. Not when she's tugging her hair over her ear and looking as icy as the day was. "You
sort of just say what's worked for you before and then yank me into bed."

Her words stab him and he doesn't know whether to retaliate or to take them as is. He says
instead, "You've never complained."

His words probably did stab back judging by how her hands twitch around her cup. Her eyes fall
back to her lap and she closes off. The wall looms.

"That's why I'm here." Oikawa takes a breath and turns to her. "I'm here because... because of
what we always failed to do."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Oikawa-san."

"Yes, you do." The edge in his voice brings her back, has her meet his gaze with surprise and
some aggravation. He doesn't realize he's glaring and squeezing his cup until his fingers begin to
ache from the heat in his cup and the chill in the air. "Don't say you don't because I know you
do."

"I assure you," Shimizu says icily. "You are mistaken."

He catches her wrist in his hand before he can stop himself. She gasps just as Oikawa all but
throws his cup back on the table. "Tell me to leave, then."

Shimizu's eyes widen and she struggles for a moment. Oikawa doesn't let off. "Tell me to leave,
Shimizu. Tell me to go and I'll be out of your life and we'll never see each other again. Do it."
"What is wrong with you?" Shimizu hisses, cheeks flushing as she looks away. "Let go!"

"Just say it!" Oikawa snaps. "Just tell me to leave, I'll let you go. Just do it!"

"NO!"

Her cup falls just as he feels her palm sting hot against his cheek. He sees the pain in her eyes
before he feels it in his chest. He doesn't let go, but his grip is lax. Shimizu's eyes are wide and the
hand she used to slap him is trembling above her lips.

"I don't want you to..." she says and her voice is small. "I don't want you to..."

His face is tingling with the aftershock of her blow but he doesn't pull away, he stays as close as
he can. "Tell me what you want Shimizu... please."

"I can't..." she says. Her chin drops and her hair hides her face from him. Her palm covers her
mouth as she trembles. "I can't."

Her words shake him, and he feels like he's falling. Careening off the side of the cliff, just
beginning to be subject to the force of gravity and the pain below. Still, he reaches, hoping for a
final chance to catch himself before the worst happens. His fingers graze her jaw and find
purchase on the curve of her neck, her pulse thrums under his thumb. He tilts her chin up and sees
tears burning past her eyes and behind her glasses.

He wants to ask her why she can't, he wants to pull her hand from her lips, he wants to press
himself into her. But the sight of the bracelet on her wrist stops him. Those two little charms that
didn't belong to her or him but someone else.

He understands.

He falls.

And the pain that overcomes him when he lands allows him to stand. "I'm sorry," he says before
he's walking away. He knows he has to leave before he crumbles.

A blast of cold air slams into him when he opens the door. He's grateful at least that he wore shoes
that aren't hard to slip on. One moment too soon would've ruined him. He hears her gasp behind
him, the start of a broken sob that would never find an end in his ears once it is abruptly silenced
by the door closing behind him.

Oikawa Tooru manages fives steps before he falls to his knees. The fall leaves him with glass
under his hands. He doesn't get why there isn't that numbness that usually comes with something
like this. Then he remembers that there was never a beginning.

Just a stupid choice that broke his fucked up heart and left him gritting his teeth and crying outside
Shimizu Kiyoko's door.

She doesn't stop crying for an hour.

When her breathing slows and her body stops shaking, Shimizu pulls herself off the couch and
grabs the tray. She leaves it on the counter before she hopes to grab her things. She doesn't get far
after grabbing her phone from her purse. Her hands continue to shake despite herself. She flips her
phone open just as it begins to ring and she almost drops it.
Suga's smiling face appears on her screen followed by his name and the call incoming icon.
Shimizu stares at it for a moment, feeling tears slide down her eyes and onto the phone's screen.
She lifts a thumb and presses a button.

"Shimizu?" she hears his voice a moment after she's supposed to answer. All she can do is
stare. "Shimizu, are you there?"

She sniffles and raises the phone to her ear. "I-I'm here."

"Are you okay? What's going on, are you crying?" He sounds alarmed and the squeezing in her
heart only twists as though she's been stabbed by a knife.

"N-no... I'm fine."

"Where's Oikawa?"

"He's not here," Shimizu says, dragging a hand through her hair. "He's..." wait. Shimizu
straightens, feels her back go ramrod straight. "What do you mean, where's Oikawa?"

Sugawara is silent for a moment and she hears him sigh. "Did you talk to him?"

"Have you?" Shimizu counters, feeling a bubbling feeling of hysteria turn into anger. "What is
going on, Koushi? Did you know he was going to be here? Did he tell you?"

"No... I didn't. I sort of...just had a feeling he would." None of this made sense.

"Talk," Shimizu growls. "Now."

Another sigh. "Shimizu..." he says and there is something in his voice that scares her. Shoots her
full of dread and fear and confusion. What are you doing?

"I'm breaking up with you, Shimizu."

Everything is frozen.

"...Why...?"

He says nothing and she's crying again. "Because I love you..."

"That doesn't make sense, Koushi!" Shimizu cries and she stuffing her palm over her mouth to
silence a sharp sob from escaping.

"I love you, Shimizu. I always have. I've loved you since we were young."

"Koushi...!"

"I've loved you all throughout our high school years and all throughout our phone calls and daily
text messages--"

"Suga, please!"

"I'll love you even as you beg me to stop and to hold on to you, I'll love you after all that..."

Shimizu was fracturing. "Why are you doing this...?"

"Because even though I love you, with all of my heart, with all of me... you're not in love with me
and I can't change that. I can't stop you from hurting right now, Shimizu and for that I'm sorry.
But you need to stand up now and you need to go."

Shimizu shook, and after a long minute she whimpers into her phone. "...Where?"

Suga laughs and it's such a soft sound she almost missed it. "After him."

He hangs up after that and Shimizu is left to stare at her phone.

She stares and stares until it slips from her grasp and she's bursting to her feet, stumbling into her
shoes, and out her apartment door. A text comes in a second later.

Thanks for everything.
Love,

Suga

--

TBC
Under The Bridge
Chapter Summary

Goodbye - T.O.E and Sakasama Bridge - Suneohair

The sun is cresting over the horizon, sinking deeper and deeper in a rare moment of clarity from
snow burdened clouds and a gray day. Streetlamps flicker on, one by one, and follow the running
figure of a single Shimizu Kiyoko. She startles past couples and the few people who are out and
about in the frigid cold of a late autumn evening. She's only clad in a long sleeved turtleneck and
jeans, clothing far too thin to weather the chill for long but she's been running for so long she no
longer feels the cold. Her jeans feel odd against her legs, flesh numb and trembling with how hard
she's been running.

She stops every so often, feeling idiotic for leaving her phone behind, feeling idiotic for running
through the streets in search of someone who's whereabouts would evade even his closest friends.
She pauses to gasp next to telephone polls, wheezing as her lungs cringe and ache in protest to the
cold air. Her chest aches, her eyes burn with shed and unshed tears. She's miserable. She's
desperate.

She's never felt this before.

Shimizu's fingers curl against the cold stone of the telephone poll. She glances up and tries to
wrack her mind for a possibility. Where was he?

The court - no. He wasn't there and the doors were locked and closed.

His favorite cafe? No, no one's seen him there for a while.

Shimizu's head spun with everything. Just that morning she had been in bed next to Suga's smiling
face, just that morning she had been blissfully content and warm. Then he showed up... and
everything spiraled because when he touched her she felt it. She felt too much all at once. And
then he was walking away, and she watched him go. Then...

"I'm breaking up with you."

And she wasn't sure why but the pain that followed his words shocked her, but not as much as the
relief that overcame her when he did.

She needed to find him. Now.

He had to know. But where was he? Where--

Oh.

Shimizu's eyes widen in realization and she whirls around. The street ahead was vacant. This way.

She takes off and latches on to the only hope that she's right. That he'll be there. That he has to be
there. Because otherwise she'll have to find someone and she doesn't think she wants to deal with
explaining why her face looks the way it does.
Shimizu slips on slush and cries out when her knees hit the ground hard. She clenches her teeth
and gets back up. She keeps running.

The pain is jarring, urging her to slow down and she does by a fraction. She's so close.

Trees and streetlamps pass by, people glance back at her, muttering to themselves as she hurries
past looking frantic and desperate. Who knows what could be spurring this crazy woman with
only a meager turtleneck and slush stained jeans? She turns down a street and hurries down the
narrow climb until she can almost smell the rusty monkey bars and the hear the creaky swing set.

There's only a few meager lights lighting the snow covered park, barely enough to really be safe
for any children to play. But in these times, how often does one see a child? Parks are left to rot
and gather the attention of older people who do nothing to uphold their integrity. It's a sad little
spot at this time of year. It's the perfect spot to wallow in pain and sadness, and for someone as
dramatic as Oikawa Tooru, Shimizu had a feeling she'd find him here.

And find him she does.

He's sitting on a swing, head downcast and looking so pathetic she almost lets out a laugh at how
ridiculous it looks. But she was here, dressed in a meager turtleneck and slush stained jeans, so she
knows she doesn't look any better. She's gasping and her body aches with exhaustion and the
desire to collapse. Shimizu shakes her head, seeing puffs of steam exhale from her lips to
disappear into the air around her.

She takes a few final steps in his direction and she's barely a full ten feet away when he glances
up. The look on his face was almost too good to be true. Wide eyed and stunned. He's a shadow
that is suddenly caught hiding and exposed. She wants to be composed and still, but her hair is a
mess and her lungs are still struggling to support a slow pace of air. She takes it all in. The way his
hair hangs over his head, locks peeking up in curious curls and styles that could be seen as
fashionable and bed-ridden. The way his body slumps forward but slowly straightens as he
registers her presence as a reality instead of a deluded mirage. She can hardly believe she's seeing
him here. She can hardly believe she was right. But at the same time, it's the only thing that makes
sense right now.

Shimizu takes a few steps forward and stops when she sees him give a start and shoot up to his
feet.

"Shi..."

"Why?" She cuts through before he could fully utter her name and he reels. He doesn't know what
she's asking. She draws in another breath and clenches her hands tight until they hurt. "Why
now?"

Oikawa's eyebrows furrow, turning his look of awe and surprise into one of confusion. "I...I don't-
-"

"No. Quiet. I don't want to hear it now, just answer me this." Shimizu grits her teeth as she feels
another wave of tears crest up through her throat and out her eyes. "Answer me why you waited
this long. Answer me why you didn't get it all those times I let you in. Why you did all those
things only to come to my place the way you did. What were you expecting, Oikawa? Were you
expecting for me to be there and to just let you in? To just allow you back under my skin that
goddamn easy? Did you think I'm so stupid to not know when you're not interested? You!" she
pointed at him, her words spilling a million miles a minute. "You're the one who left, you left and
you did nothing. So why? Why? ...Why?"
Oikawa stares at her as her hand falls and she's ripping her gaze away to land at the ground. She
sees a wilted flower among the cracks on the pavement, dusted in snow and dying a slow death.

"Why...?" She whispers. "Why was I glad when I saw you? Why did I hope you finally
understood after so long...? Why?"

There is a soft breeze, ice and cold and gentle enough to make her hair sway around her face. She
hears him approach but she doesn't dare look up. She won't look up. She'll refuse to look up if he
so much as tries to--

"Kiyoko."

Her head shoots up and she's looking up into his eyes, chestnut and soft and just as miserable as
she is. Yet the smile on his face turns her heart and tempts her.

"Can I kiss you?"

He's close, radiating warmth like a furnace and she all but melts into it.

"Yes."

Her arms fly around his neck as soon as his arms catch her waist. At last, Oikawa Tooru kisses
Shimizu Kiyoko and they cling to each other through it all. Their lips were chapped from the cold
and nervous wearing from teeth and emotional exhaustion, but for all it mattered it was the best
kiss to ever happen to both of them. Shimizu tastes salt, tastes bitterness and it's so warm she
doesn't care. Her fingers run into his hair, tug against his neck as he runs his palms over her back,
to cradle her jaw and tilt her chin to experiment new angles and to pepper kisses across her cheeks
and lips. They pull away for a moment, meeting each other's gaze through a half-lidded expression
that only pushes a smile into his mouth and a hopeful smirk into hers.

"Can I call you by your first name?"

Shimizu leans up and kisses him, presses a "Yes," against his lips. He tugs her lower lip between
his teeth and sucks until she's moaning and pressing her tongue to curl around his. They pull back
only to rush back in, drowning in the euphoria of every kiss that magnetizes their lips together.

"I want you," she says and his hands twitch before he pulls away. He's grinning and his hand
curls around her.

"I'm yours."

They both turn and run and Shimizu doesn't care where, so long as he's holding on to her hand.

It takes them almost a half hour to find their way back to her apartment. They hardly stop to push
each other away the entire way there, and made a few people more than uncomfortable when they
didn't dare pull away inside a bus. Gone was prim and proper. Every kiss she presses against his
mouth makes him delirious, as if he's caught a fever and could be dreaming this is all a fantasy.
Yet she pulls away and the sensation that follows is too real to ignore.

The door shuts behind them with a bang and Shimizu actually laughs when he stumbles and trips
over his shoes and out of his coat. He rolls his eyes and doesn't reprimand her, he just wants his
mouth on hers always.
His hands follow familiar paths, almost forgotten but coming back with fresh desires into his skin,
up her shirt and against the clasp of her bra. Shimizu lets out a gasp and moan, arching her back
when his warming hands grip to the hot flesh of her breasts. He thumbs her nipples just the way
he knows she loves it, and the stumbling continues at an awkward pace with every article of
clothing that is shed on the way to Shimizu's bedroom.

Oikawa runs a river of kisses down her throat and over the valley between her breasts, pausing
only to notice her shivering. He glances up at her.

"I want you," he says, voice husky with desire.

"H-how," she asks.

"Under the covers," he says. She pulls away just for a moment to grab the comforter over her bed
and yank back. The inside of her bed is a deep violet and crisp, as though she hadn't slept over
them in ages. He doesn't care for that though, not when his hands are sinking under the hem of her
jeans to tease the hot flesh beneath. Shimizu groans, following his hands with her own as she
arches and presses her rear against him.

Oikawa lets out a tight moan, fighting the urge to ram her against the wall and revisit old
memories. He pauses instead, and she turns around to look up at him with wide eyes.

"It's freezing in here," he says, breath billowing in white puffs of steam.

"The heater is in the living room," Shimizu replies.

"I'll grab it. Be right back." he pulls his hand out of her pants with a grin and he swoops back
down, kissing her deeply before pulling away. To his surprise she yanks him back down and
places a kiss on him that's so thoroughly powerful his legs feel like jello.

"Hurry," she whispers against his mouth. He wants to badly to sink into her lips again, but the
desire to take her in a warm place gives him strength to pull away. Oikawa turns and heads out her
door, his eyes quickly searching for the heater she mentioned was in her living room. In his hurry,
he slips on the smooth wooden floor and nearly hits his head on the counter. He recuperates and
saves himself from crashing against the floor, flushing with embarrassment and glad no one saw
him. He finds the stupid heater and unplugs it from the wall before lugging it's conical shape into
Shimizu's room.

She's on the bed, shivering and rubbing her hands together. He gives her a triumphant look and
goes to plug it in by her bedside lamp.

"Did you slip on the wood just now?" she asks.

"What? No." Oikawa says quickly. "Not even."

She gives him an unconvinced smirk that he's too happy to kiss away. He turns the heater on and
hurries into the bed, claiming her mouth into another kiss and sighing like an idiot in love.

"Ready?" he asks as she takes off her glasses and meticulously sets them on her nightstand.
Shimizu pulls out a condom from her pocket and raises a brow. He could feel all the blood rush
south as she smiles at him.

Oikawa gives her a gentle grin, allowing her to kiss him yet again. His hands move at a slower
pace, sinking against her flesh and relieving her of the last of her clothing. Cotton panties slide off
easily from her legs and off her ankles. He peppers kisses against her hips and ribs, loving the way
she sighs and arches against him. He rises and sees the look of impatience in her eyes and he
chuckles.

"Not yet," he says. "I wanna take it slow."

her eyebrows lift and her eyes widen but she does not argue. There is a change between them
then, one that makes him want to carve his affection into meticulous roads and pathways into her.
Avenues of love and boulevards of appreciation would cover every inch, and he would revere her
like he's wanted to since the second time he had her pressed against him, and every day since.
There would be no rough touches from him tonight, no bruises and no marks. He wanted in her
slow and hard, steady and rhythmic.

Every gentle caress he inflicted was equally given by her, and he was constantly overcome with
the delight of it all. His pants are the last thing to go and he's beneath the covers with her. The cold
was fading to the warmth pulsing through all of him. He reaches down to kiss against her ribs, her
knees, her ankles. He trails his fingers all over until she's panting and groaning. His fingers tease
the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs and he fells her tremble anew. Her hands are gripping to
anything she can, the sheets, his back, his hair.

He meets her gaze and holds it as he runs his digits up her soaking heat. She moans, eyelids
fluttering as he sinks into her warmth and begins a curling rhythm that has her gyrating beneath
him. Her hand catches his upper arm, and her eyes fall close as she relishes the sensation.

"Kiyoko," he speaks her name once more and she's looking up at him again. He can see the stars
in her eyes and it fills him with a smoldering warmth he's wondering. "Look at me."

Her breath hitches as he curls his fingers in her once more. His thumb is circling the peak of her
sensitivity, securing a pace that has her biting her lips and panting madly. "Ah--ah, Oikaw--AH!"

"How do you want me?"

"L-like that, just like that, oh--Ohh!"

He continues his pace, more than eager to watch her rise to the edge and completely shatter
beneath him. Except she surprises him but grabbing his wrist and squeezing. He winces and gives
her a questioning look.

"T-to..." she swallows. "Together."

He smiles at her and glances down. She releases him and he pulls his hand away. It's a little harder
to maneuver beneath the heavy covers, but he manages as he settles between her spreading legs.
He bucks, hard length probing against her thigh and he lets out a groan against her. He doesn't see
how she arches back and reaches for the condom she left on the nightstand. All he hears is the
plastic ripping and sees her hand go down, down...

"Oh--fuck!" Oikawa grunts when her hands come around his length, velvety soft and cold. She
hisses a small apology but her fingers don't retreat. Instead, they follow a gentle yet strong rhythm
as they pump him. Oikawa feels his eyes roll to the back of his head as he bucks in her hold. He
feels her drag a kiss against his throat before her hands slowed and pause only to slide the condom
over his cock.

His fingers clench tight around her sheets and unclench only for him to guide himself to her
entrance. She's trembling, but not because of the cold. He looks away to meet her gaze. She's
staring up at him, pupils blown and mouth parted. He feels it then, a moment of sheer stupidity
take over him and he opens his mouth before he could stop.

"I love you."
Her hands, at his waist, flicker at their touch. She's speechless, he knows and he almost regrets his
confession except it's true and he can't back out from it now, not even if he wanted to.

"I'm an idiot, Shimizu Kiyoko," he says. "I'm an idiot. A coward... and I love you."

Her hands trail up his sides, where he shivers, until they travel past his chest to curl around his
neck. His heart had never been so full or so fierce ramming into his chest, and he knows she can
feel it--she has to. She pulls him down and kisses him.

"I guess you and I aren't so different," she says and there's a smile on her lips that has his heart
skyrocketing.

"You...?" he's almost afraid to hear it, except he knows he isn't. She nods.

"Yeah," she says and she bucks her hips so that he slides against her. Oikawa pushes his hips
forward until she's taking him in and he's sliding deep inside. He groans and his mind spins with
how good her flesh feels pressed so close to his. He opens his eyes as the sensations subside for a
moment and he sees tears in her eyes. "I love you, Oikawa Tooru."

He pulls back and slams back in, she gasps. "I love you."

He pulls back and slams back in. She arches her back, moaning, "I love you."

And he could get high on just her words alone for how much they bring him to a new edge and
new horizon. Oikawa thrusts back in, his hands trailing and memorizing as much of her as
possible. They kiss, breathing in each other's moans and groans. He pushes and she whimpers,
toes curling against his thighs and rear.

"Oh--Oh God--!"

"Ahh--ahh--oh--Kiyo--ahh!"

Her arms tug him so close he cannot tell where he ends and she begins. His stomach is fluttering
with starlight and the thrill to fly off the edge with her. "I'm...I'm...!"

She throws her head back just as she clamps down around him. Her mouth parts in a silent scream
that morphs out her throat in a stuttering cry with every shove and push of his hips. He brings her
to a delectable climax, one where she shudders and trembles and twitches so deliciously he only
has her name on his throat before he falls.

He falls.

She falls.

And they collapse, whole and complete.

His hips stutter a final utterance of adoration, pouring the last of himself until he could do nothing
but gasp and pant. Her lips find his, pushing sweat-stained locks from his forehead and drawing
gentle sounds that lull them deeper into the night.

Minutes later, he's at her side, curled around her as she continues to count and make shapes over
his skin. They don't say anything for a while, just occasionally whispering to one another and
exchanging smiles and forehead presses that convey everything and anything.

"I'm sorry..." he says after a while, eyes honest and rueful. "For hurting you."
"We both hurt one another..." she says. "We both share that blame."

His hand curls around her wrist, thumb flicking against the volleyball charm and the crow.
Shimizu follows his eye to the charm and is curious when he pulls her wrist close and presses a
kiss against her skin and the charm between. She almost asks until he meets her gaze with a
determined expression.

"Last chance to push me away," he says.

"Is that what you want?" she replies. He sinks his fingers past hers to intertwine them and press
another kiss against hers.

"No."

"Then no."

Everything about her had always seemed so perfect. It was something he had noticed after seeing
her once. She was the picture of Japanese elegance, beauty, manners... the list could go on and it
would never end. But seeing her here, at his side and drifting off to a gentle sleep and radiating
warmth, he couldn't help but wonder how on earth he ever deserved her.

"You're perfect," he says. Her eyes blink open and she smiles at him, only then does he notice it's
slightly crooked.

"So are you."

End

End Notes

too short agggh... this is such garbage...

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