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“I think I could fall in love with you.”
It’s 1 am and the library is all but dead apart from the few sleep-deprived souls either desperately cramming or reaping the consequences of their procrastination. You’re one of the latter. If not for your friend and savior, you think you just might be here until dawn.
Oikawa doesn’t even look at you as he laughs, tapping away on your laptop.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?” your head rests on your arms and a pout juts out on your lips, “everyone else does.”
It’s true. After all, he’s...Oikawa. When he walks into a room, he fills it, brings it to life, commands everyone’s attention. And he’s like a whirlwind, taking bits and pieces of people with him when he leaves.
“You’re not just anyone.”
“So what am I then?”
He doesn’t answer, only swivels your laptop towards you and asks you if his edits look good enough to submit. You know it’s useless, that he’s not taking you seriously. But there was a part of you hoping that maybe, maybe he would answer you the way you want him to.
He doesn’t though, of course.
And he can tell you not to fall in love with him all he wants, but does it really matter if it’s too late?
You meet Oikawa’s best friend the same time you meet her.
“This is my girlfriend,” Oikawa sings, slinging his arm around the pretty girl standing next to him and there’s the sound of something shattering. It’s a glass, you can tell from the drunken cheers and groans that burst out behind you. But you think it might be your heart.
“And this is my Iwa-chan, back from studying abroad!” Oikawa jabs the dark-haired man standing next to him, the one who’s been studying you the moment you came into view. There’s something on his face that makes you want to avoid his gaze.
Pity?
Sympathy?
Does he know?
Maybe he does, maybe you’re too easy to read, maybe that’s why the girl in front of you wraps her arm around Oikawa’s waist.
As if to tell you, he’s mine.
It’s cold outside when you stumble out, just a little bit tipsy.
You sit down on the porch steps and close your eyes, leaning your cheek against the cool, wooden railing. Normally at this point, Oikawa would drape his jacket over your shoulders and take you back to your dorm.
“It was getting boring anyway.”
He’s always lying. You know he would rather stay.
A couple rushes past you, giggling and whispering, unable to take their hands off one another and you watch them disappear around the corner.
Something cool taps your cheek, making you flinch. Oikawa’s friend sits down on the steps next to you, nursing his red Solo cup as you take the unopened water bottle from him with a murmured thanks.
You hazard a glance at him. You wonder why he’s here. He looks like he would rather be somewhere else, someplace far away from the deafening music, muggy room, foolish mistakes being made.
He surprises you when he speaks first.
“Oikawa...can be stupid sometimes.”
You weren’t really expecting that.
“Yeah,” you swallow the lump in your throat and swipe at your eyes, feeling the sting but willing the wetness away. “He’s so dumb.”
You get a low chuckle from that.
“I question his taste sometimes.” You raise your eyebrows and look at him. He flushes a little and averts his eyes. Clears his throat. Looks back at you. His gaze lingers. “Mostly right now.”
You hide your smile in your shoulder, flicking your eyes up to meet his dark brown ones. “You’re sweet.”
The back of his neck turns red.
The two of you just sit there for a long while after that. He tells you a little about New Zealand, where he’d been for the last three months. He doesn’t say anything more about the elephant in the room, for which you’re grateful. It becomes obvious that Oikawa’s not coming out anytime soon, but somehow, it stings a little less now.
A group of drunk freshmen come staggering out of the house, nearly trampling over you if not for an arm swinging around you to pull you to the side.
“Careful.”
“Thanks.” Your eyes lock onto his and you suddenly become acutely aware of his hand, of how warm it feels on your skin.
His gaze travels down to your lips.
You don’t even think before throwing caution to the wind.
"Hey. Want to get out of here?”
It’s easy to fall into bed with Iwaizumi Hajime, into a mess of fevered kisses, sweaty limbs, and hazy pleasure.
He’s beautiful, a different sort of beauty from Oikawa. Darker, quieter, a little too serious.
And maybe that’s just what you needed.
His skin is hot, searing, makes you forget. He makes you forget when nothing else before has worked, body rolling against yours, lips swallowing your moans, strong arms pinning you down.
You’re a little lost afterwards, sitting back against him between his legs in the bathtub and staring at the pale tiles in front of you, but if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. Just rests his chin on your shoulder and sits with you in silence.
When the steam from the water dissipates, his hands travel a little lower, slipping between your thighs.
You don’t think about Oikawa for the entire night.
“So I was thinking,” Iwaizumi clears his throat, watching you get dressed. The morning glow filters through the window, illuminating the outline of his muscles. You take your time looking at him because hey, you know when to appreciate a man’s body.
“Yes?”
“How would you feel about grabbing some coffee sometime?” He looks unsure of himself, long fingers plucking at your sheets. Fingers that you’re so intimately familiar with now.
You’re silent for a long moment.
“I’m not over him yet.”
Iwaizumi’s face falls, disappointment written across his handsome features. “It was worth a try I gu-”
“But I’m going to try,” you interrupt, focusing your attention on pulling on your socks, a little embarrassed that this man knows something about you that not even your closest friends know. “I’m going to try to get over him.”
He looks up when you sit down next to him.
“And coffee...could be a start.”
Iwaizumi’s eyes light up.
You do try.
You try until it doesn’t hurt to see Oikawa anymore, until you can smile at the girl who’s always next to him now, until you can tell Iwaizumi, proudly and breathlessly...
“I love you.”
You mean every word.
Iwaizumi makes you feel special, makes you feel loved.
And you start to think that you wouldn’t trade him for the world.
"She broke up with me.”
Oikawa rubs at his forehead and you open the door a little wider, yawning, still groggy from sleep, so he can come in. This is nothing new, you’ve learned not to be surprised by his spontaneous visits anymore. One time he woke you up at midnight just because his toilet was clogged and he didn’t have a plunger. And that’s not even the strangest of his visits.
“Oh,” your hand drops down to your side. You’re a little more awake now.
He flops onto your couch, groaning loudly. “Iwa-chan’s not answering his phone, I have to rant about it to someone.”
“I’m someone.” You grin wryly.
He tells you everything. How she’d become fed up with him in general, from his lifestyle to his habits to his goals.
“She called me boring!” Oikawa whines as you rummage around in the kitchen. “She called volleyball a hobby!”
He looks satisfied by the gasp you give him. "Oh that is scandalous.”
“Why does it always turn out this way?”
“You poor baby,” you sigh, handing him a cup of warm water which he takes and drinks rather angrily and aggressively.
“But still,” he says, dropping his head down, “I really liked this one.”
“I’m sorry,” you tell him, feeling a little helpless. You’re sincere about it though. You know it’s not easy, being crushed like that. He stretches out on the couch, laying his head in your lap like a puppy, a now familiar move for the affectionate man.
“But Oikawa,” you continue, brushing his hair back, “you’re a good man. You are an amazing volleyball player, and that’s your dream. Never settle for less. You will find someone better, someone who appreciates you and what you do. You’re pretty easy to love, you know?”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
There’s a long pause. “Maybe I should just date you.”
“Sorry.” You pat his head, a little pleased that his words don’t faze you one bit. Maybe they might have, two months ago. “I’m taken.”
You don’t notice the way Oikawa stares up at you.
Something changes after that.
Oikawa’s single now, much to the joy of his campus fan club. But it seems like he has no intention of seeing new girls now because he becomes quite the sticky third wheel, popping up whenever you and Iwaizumi least expect it, and with increasing frequency.
When you sit down next to Iwaizumi at a party and he tries to tug you into his lap-
Oikawa sighs heavily, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead like a damsel in distress, “Oh, it hurts so much, the way she just left...”
You exchange looks with Iwaizumi and slowly slide off him, in silent agreement to tone down the PDA when in front of the fragile, broken-hearted man.
When you’re eating lunch and smiling at Iwaizumi as he tells you about his day-
“Iwa-channn~”
Iwaizumi’s eyes close in frustration and he breathes slowly out of his nose, controlling his anger. You stifle a sympathetic smile, patting his hand as Oikawa drops his tray down on the table next to you.
When Iwaizumi’s hovering over you, trailing kisses over your collarbone and sucking his mark into your skin and you’re trembling, clutching onto him-
The door slams open. “Iwa-chan, I- oh. Am I interrupting something?”
Iwaizumi snarls, yanking the sheets over the both of you with frightening speed, “Yes, Shittykawa!
It’s not until you’re almost falling asleep on Iwaizumi’s lap one day while watching a movie, Oikawa sitting off to the side in one of his regular date-crashing sessions, that you notice.
He probably doesn’t think that you can see him from this angle, but you can.
A sinking feeling settles into your stomach.
Because Oikawa isn’t watching the movie playing across the screen, as he should be.
No, his eyes are on you.
It’s 1 am and you know that expression on Oikawa’s face, the smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It used to be yours, after all.
You want to scream at him, cry, hit him. You want to shake him and ask him why. Why is he doing this. Because he shouldn’t be standing here, here in front of your dorm telling you this while his best friend is asleep in your bedroom.
“I think I'm falling in love with you.”
“I’m sorry,” his voice cracks a little and you’ve never seen him like this, so raw and helpless. Oikawa Tooru is supposed to be sure of himself, confident, like nothing could ever faze him.
But right now?
He looks small.
“I know this is wrong, I know,” his laugh is sad, bitter, “I just...needed you to know.”
“Oikawa...”
“Babe?” You both turn to see Iwaizumi coming out of your room, rubbing his eyes. “Oh, Crappykawa. What’s up?”
He’s shirtless, shivering when the evening chill hits his skin, and remedies it by pulling you backwards into his chest, pressing his lips against your shoulders. If he thinks there’s anything strange about his best friend standing at your door, he doesn’t mention it. He must be used to this too. Or maybe, from the slow, even puffs dusting your skin, he’s just so tired that he’s just falling right back asleep. You smile softly despite the situation, smoothing a hand through your boyfriend’s hair.
It’s a smile that Oikawa used to have all to himself, back when it was just the two of you.
He looks like he wants to say something, like it’s just there on the tip of his tongue. But the arms around you anchor you, remind you that you have something, something you want to keep, to protect, to cherish.
So you just murmur a quiet, “Don’t.”
Don’t say anything.
Don’t do anything.
Don’t fall in love with me.
This time it’s not your heart that shatters.