Saturday October 17, 2015 7:55 am
Some random high school, in a boring town, in the middle of nowhere
Tooru Oikawa stares at the building in front of him and groans. The latte in his hand keeps his left hand warm while his right is shoved deep in the pocket of his blue pea coat.
“You’ve really fucking done it now, Tooru,” he mutters to himself before moving towards the front doors to his high school. “Senior class president, homecoming king, activities social chair of student council, and best dressed in school. Now here you are, Saturday detention.”
He pushes his glasses up on top of his head and rubs his eyes, too little sleep again. The barista gave him a funny look when he’d asked for triple espresso. Jokes on her, he usually had four shots during the school week, as well as an energy drink most days.
“Former Senior Class President,” he reminds himself glumly. It had been a difficult decision, but a necessary one. Suga, his vice president, had fought his resignation at first; using everything from flattery to outright bribery to get him to stay on. But in the end Tooru would not be swayed. He couldn't fake the smile anymore, and knew that Suga would start asking questions that Tooru knew he didn’t want to answer. Instead he claimed that his class load for senior year was proving to be too much to handle in addition to his duties as class president and social chair for the student council. He’d give himself one month before he resigned from social chair as well. Yukie would be thrilled, she’d fought against him hard for that position. He’d keep the title of Homecoming King, no way was he giving that up. Not that they could take it away from him anyway.
He enters the library and is happy to see he was the only one. Six tables make up a study near the front desk and he assumes that's where they are meant to sit. He’d never been in detention before, and definitely not Saturday detention. He decides on the left most table in front and slumps into the chair, he pulls in his arms from his coat and tries to smooth the sleeves of his pink button up. He'd already managed to spill a bit of his latte on his pants, his only saving grace was that the coffee practically matched the color.
Tetsurou Kuroo strolls in soon after, hair looking like he’s just rolled out of bed, with three paperbacks in hand. He’s wearing black skinny jeans with rips in the knees, a black and white checkered flannel, and a blue shirt that reads “Because Science”. Highest GPA in the senior class, MIT bound, and already guaranteed to be Valedictorian. He nods in Tooru’s direction and chuckles.
“Your nerd is showing Oikawa,” he says jutting his chin in the direction of Tooru’s chest.
Tooru looks down and sees a splash of neon green on black peeking out above the top two buttons of his shirt. He’d thrown his “I believe” shirt on underneath instead of a plain black one. Too little sleep indeed. “Matches my shoes,” he says with a shrug, gesturing to his galaxy print converse. His eyes widen quickly at the figure walking in behind Kuroo and he quickly buttons his shirt covering up the the alien head threatening to reveal his guilty pleasure.
Hajime Iwaizumi, class “criminal”, and the last person Tooru wanted to see, storms into the library. His beat up brown jacket looks as though it should have been tossed two years ago. His dark jeans are almost worn through in the knees and the toes of his boots are so scuffed the steel toe is starting to show. He makes three seconds of eye contact with Tooru before making sure to take a seat as far away from him as possible. The momentary glance between the two does not go unnoticed by Kuroo, and as he is readying himself for a comment the next person to walk in catches his attention.
Koutarou Bokuto walks in with his shoulder bag strap hanging from his head, his unmistakable black and silver hair styled as always to resemble a horned owl. Running back on the football team and the only team member who can double for their mascot. The black and white varsity jacket he’s wearing blends into the black cargo pants slung low on his hips. The yellow of his banana print boxers just peeking out and matching the black and yellow Air Jordans on his feet. He and Kuroo eye each other warily, their lips curled into almost matching sneers.
“You…” Bokuto begins, before getting jostled to the side by a small figure in a grey hoodie and baggy black pants. They brush past him with whispered apologies and trips over their feet trying to get to the back of the library and away from the group of detention attendees.
“Excuse me,” a voice pipes up from behind Bokuto, prompting him to turn. He freezes and stares at the boy in front of him.
Keiji Akaashi, new student from the ‘big city’, whose attitude doesn’t quite fit in with his new suburban classmates. Especially given his wardrobe, which today consists of a black utilikilt, baggy black sweater with a silver geometric owl, and knee high buckled combat boots. His legs are kept from being bare by way of a pair of midnight blue leggings with constellations printed on them. His gaze locks with Bokuto’s and they stare at one another, saying nothing.
“Nice of you to all show up on time,” an angry voice trills from behind Akaashi causing him to jump and nearly crash into Bokuto. Vice Principal Washijou enters the library and casts a disdainful look at all of them. “Take your seats and let's get this started.”
Bokuto steps aside and gestures for Akaashi to walk ahead of him. Kuroo takes a seat at the other front table, across from Tooru. Akaashi sits behind him, which then prompts Bokuto to sit at the table across from him.
“You are all here because you have done something that warrants losing a day of freedom. You might be under the impression that you do not belong here,” he says eyeing Akaashi, who merely meets his gaze and does not look away. “Some of you definitely do belong here.” His eyes fell on Iwaizumi huddled in the back row. His chin is now resting on his folded arms, the black sleeves of his baseball tee faded enough to make his hair look darker by comparison.
“Some of my other contemporaries think you should be allowed to use this time to study, to continue learning, or find other useless activities to fill your time with,” his gaze falls on the stack of well worn paperbacks on the table in front of Kuroo. “I do not follow those ideologies. You are here to be punished. Not rewarded with study time that you should have used while in class.”
He pauses in front of Oikawa and looks down at the paper he’s holding in his hands. “Tooru Oikawa, attempting to leave school property. I guess you thought your status as class president made you exempt from the rules. Throw that away, beverages aren’t allowed in the library.”
Oikawa looks at his barely drank coffee and balks. “Sir there’s a sign there saying beverages are allowed only up until a certain area of the library and we are in the…”
“Are you talking back to me Oikawa?”
“No sir, I am merely pointing out that—.”
“Oikawa throw that coffee away or I will schedule you for Saturday detention for the rest of the month and then we’ll see how long you hold your position as class president.”
“I resigned earlier this week sir, so there’s no position to be threatened.”
“Throw away your beverage.”
Oikawa glares at Washijou and proceeds to chug his coffee without breaking eye contact. Bokuto bites back a squawk and Akaashi’s bored expression briefly registers as impressed. Kuroo just stares at him wide eyed while Iwaizumi rolls his.
If Washijou is affected by Oikawa’s actions his eyes give away nothing, instead he looks to Bokuto who's trying to hide in his chair behind Oikawa.
“Koutarou Bokuto, I had hoped I’d be able to see you here one day. Your brothers caused trouble too. Typical athlete, think you're above the rules just because you bring home a shiny trophy. It's a shame you’re missing the game today, though I’m sure the team can do well without its clown—I mean second string running back.”
Washijou misses the murderous gaze Akaashi is sending his way as he is too busy eyeing Iwaizumi. “Attempting to leave school property as well, Mr. Iwaizumi I do hope you’re not trying to spread your influences to Mr. Oikawa. We don't need a second criminal in this school.”
His words barely seem to have an affect on the stoic young man, but Tooru’s fingers are turning white as he digs them into the table in front of him.
“Keiji Akaashi,” Washijou begins.
“Vice Principal Washijou, my father is an attorney,” he grits out, his black lined eyes filled with anger. “A very, very good attorney. I would advise you to take that into consideration before you finish what you are about to say to me. I was told by Mr. Takeda if I showed up today with a signed form from my mother allowing me to attend in-school suspension during my study halls I would be allowed to skip this.”
Washijou blanches for a moment before matching Akaashi’s glare with a scoff of triumph. “Counselor Takeda is not here, thus it is left to me to run detention. I would never allow such a deal to be made, so you will remain here for detention.”
“I have a train to catch,” Akaashi pleads, his anger now replaced with despondence.
“I don’t care what you have, you were assigned Saturday detention for insubordination and obscenities in class.”
“That’s enough or I will assign you Saturday detention for the rest of the month do I make myself clear.”
“Yes,” Akaashi replies, his shoulders slumping.
“There’s no need to call me sir, vice principal,” he says with all the pride he has left.
Kuroo bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach and nearly falling out of his chair. He wipes tears from his eyes and lets his body shake the last of his laughter out.
“Kyoutani Kentarou…” Washijo says, looking over his paper, trying not to burn through Kuroo with his glare.
“I don’t think he’s…” Kuroo offers before Washijou’s attention is drawn to the person who’d shoved their way past Bokuto earlier. He’s walking the far wall of the library gazing up at the top shelf of books, searching.
“You!” he yells, gesturing angrily at the boy. “What do you think you are doing?”
“What?” he says, pulling the earbuds from his ears. His golden eyes are wide with confusion as he brushes a stray blonde hair from his eyes, hood still drawn firmly over his head.
“No headphones in detention!”
“I’m not in detention,” he says with a tilt to his head.
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Sit down!” Washijou yells, causing the young man to quake.
“But…” he says, wide eyed and looking like he's ready to run.
“Mr. Kentarou, sit down!”
“He’s not Kyoutani!” Kuroo yells, jumping up to the young man’s defense. “Can’t you see he’s trying to tell you something, or are you too busy hating him just for being a student here?”
“Tetsurou, if you want any chance of that recommendation letter even reaching MIT you will sit down and shut your mouth!”
Kuroo balks and his face goes pale. He slowly sinks back into his chair but keeps his back ramrod straight. He eyes the young man still trying to hide behind his curtain of hair. Their eyes meet long enough for him to tilt his head in direction towards the seat next to him.
“I don't know what sort of shenanigans you are pulling being here on a Saturday but until I find out why you are here, you will remain with the rest of the delinquents,” Washijou says as the blonde sits down next to Kuroo and stares down at his lap. His hood falls and black roots fading to brown are revealed. He pulls his knees up to his chest and wipes a tear away from his face.
Washijou departs and Kuroo lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He puts a hand on the shoulder of the boy next to him, who startles at the contact. “Hey, you alright?”
“M’ fine,” he mumbles. “I didn’t know I couldn’t study today. Mr. Takeda said…”
“Yeah, he’s not here.”
The boy buries his face into his knees and sighs. He mumbles something about the worst day ever and Kuroo can’t help but feel for him. “I’m Kuroo,” he says extending a hand out.
“Kenma Kozume.” He takes his fingers and squeezes them briefly before resuming his huddled position.
“Nice to meet you Kenma.”
“You as well… Kuro.”