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“I’m coming!”
“You’re what ?!” Hanamaki yells, and Iwaizumi hears Matsukawa bust a low laugh. She also hears Tooru’s voice – can’t hear what she’s saying, but knows it’s probably whining about not getting the joke. No matter how many times Hanamaki makes it, Tooru never gets it.
Iwaizumi slips on her crewneck over her school uniform and grabs her backpack, attempting to step around the piles of clothes scattered across her floor but failing. She lifts her foot, trips on a sweatshirt, and lands face first on the floor with a thud.
“Iwa-chan!” She hears Tooru exclaim worriedly from downstairs, then quick footsteps running up the stairs. She appears in Iwaizumi’s doorway of her bedroom, first with a worried face then with a disappointed one. “Iwa-chan, what did I tell you about cleaning your room? There’s gotta be a rat under all that!”
Iwaizumi sighs as she stands up. Out of all of Tooru’s moods, Bossy Tooru has got to be Iwaizumi’s least favorite. “I told you I’d get it done by the end of the week.”
“And it’s Friday. You’re being naughty,” Tooru says, her voice as light and matter-of-fact as ever.
“You know I hate that word,” Iwaizumi grumbles, standing up and passing Tooru to walk downstairs to their friends.
“Ooo, is Iwa-chan being a naughty naughty girl?” Hanamaki asks in a high-pitched voice.
“Does someone need a spanking?” Matsukawa pouts, looking up at the girls as they approach them.
“God,” Iwaizumi grumbles, leading the way out of her house and onto the sidewalk.
“Iwa-chan’s always so grumpy in the mornings,” Tooru frowns, walking beside her, Makki and Mattsun behind them. This was always their formation.
“Or maybe you guys are extra annoying in the mornings,” Iwaizumi says.
“Here, Iwa-chan.” Tooru hands her a rice ball that had been wrapped and waiting in Tooru’s warm hands the whole morning. Iwaizumi gratefully grabs it and devours it in a second. She’s always hungry in the mornings, and Tooru never is.
“Guys, I have a game for us to play at lunch,” Hanamaki says.
“Yeah?” Iwaizumi asks with a bite full of rice in her mouth. Tooru puts a finger under her chin to push it closed.
“Yeah, it’s called…” She pauses for dramatic tension.
“Tinder,” Matsukawa gasps dramatically.
Tooru genuinely gasps. “Makki, you’re on Tinder?”
“Uh oh, is Makki going to get a spanking from Oikawa?” Matsukawa grins.
“No,” Tooru bites. “I actually support finding young love.”
“Could you imagine if the Tooru Oikawa went on Tinder?” Hanamaki asks.
“The app would break,” Matsukawa agrees.
Iwaizumi laughs. Tooru frowns at her. “Is something funny, Iwa-chan?”
“Oikawa on Tinder?” Iwaizumi tries to imagine it, but she’s never been able to take the idea of Tooru and men seriously. It really would be just a game to Tooru, endlessly swiping on men who she didn’t like. Iwaizumi knew that.
“Rude, Iwa-chan! I would get plenty of swipes!” Tooru defends, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I agree. Have you seen how many Valentine's she gets?” Hanamaki says.
“You think all the boys that come to our games are for you, Iwaizumi?” Matsukawa laughs.
Iwaizumi snorts. “What, you guys don’t think I have feminine appeal?”
They all blink at her.
“Whatever,” Iwaizumi mumbles, now matching her best friend with crossed arms. She knows that would be a losing battle.
(What Iwaizumi does not know is that, at that moment, a lightbulb goes off in Hanamaki’s head. She does not know that Hanamaki taps Matsukawa’s arm, gesturing for her to listen to what Hanamaki was about to say. She does not know that Hanamaki conjugates her tone to sound genuinely offering.)
“You guys should get Tinder,” Hanamaki says.
“What? Why?” Iwaizumi asks.
“Why not?” Matsukawa asks (smirking at Hanamaki). “It’s not like you guys have a crush on anyone, right?”
Iwaizumi and Tooru turn their heads towards each other. Iwaizumi can’t quite read the look on Tooru’s face, but she can guess hers is the exact same. Mutual confusion. No, they don't have crushes on anyone. Right?
“Let’s bet on it,” Hanamaki urges. This wasn’t an unusual request; Makki was always asking to play games, make bets, have contests. Especially during practice.
“Bet on what?” Iwaizumi asks, treading lightly.
“Who can score a Tinder date first,” she says.
“I’ll do it, too,” Matsukawa says.
Tooru turns around to scold her. “Mattsun! Don’t give in!”
“What’s the big deal, you two?” Hanamaki asks. “You guys are usually always down for a competition.”
“Yeah, why are you being weird?” Matsukawa asks, perfectly manipulating her voice to sound genuinely confused.
(Hanamaki gives her a look that says Oh, that was good . They fist bump.)
Iwaizumi looks at Tooru again, searching her face for a reason to continue to say no. Iwaizumi had no interest in partaking. Did Tooru?
“Okay,” Tooru says, looking straight ahead. She takes out her phone, which barely fits in her hands because of the large hot pink case, and begins tapping on it. “I’ll get it right now.”
Iwaizumi feels a pang in her chest. She frowns at that.
“Something wrong, Iwaizumi?” Matsukawa asks. Iwaizumi turns her head to see her grinning.
“No,” Iwaizumi says, “I’ll download it at lunch.”
The pink haired girl and black haired girl give her cheeky smiles. Iwaizumi narrows her eyes at them, but decides to give it a rest.
At lunch, the girls gather at their usual rectangular table, their usual formation – Oikawa and Iwaizumi on one side, Makki and Mattsun on the other – and get down to business.
“How’s it going, girls?” Hanamaki asks the group.
Iwaizumi drops her backpack and takes a bite of her pizza with a sigh. She takes out her phone and clicks on the app. “I need help making my profile,” Iwaizumi says.
Tooru leans in close, so their shoulders are touching. “Gimme, Iwa-chan! I know what photos to add,” she says, grabbing her phone. Iwaizumi lets her, continuing to eat her food.
“I’ve gotten some bites, myself,” Hanamaki proudly announces.
“You’ve had the app longer,” Iwaizumi points out.
“Yeah, and everyone likes emo girls,” Matsukawa says. Iwaizumi enjoys the giggle that comes out of Tooru’s throat, making her shoulder shake against hers.
“Sigh,” Hanamaki says drearily. “The consequences of having pink hair. I’m a pussy magnet.”
“You have girls on, Makki?” Tooru asks. Iwaizumi is a bit surprised that she asked.
“Boys and girls, indeed,” Hanamaki says. “So does Mattsun.”
“Hm,” Tooru hums. Iwaizumi wonders what she thinks about that. Wonders really hard, actually. She very much wants to know what Tooru’s Tinder preferences are.
“Here, Iwa-chan, the rest you do yourself.” Tooru hands back her phone.
Iwaizumi analyzes Tooru’s work. The first photo is of Iwaizumi flexing her bicep, sweaty in her volleyball uniform. Her quads look massive; she can’t complain. The second one is of Iwaizumi in Dutch braids, sitting criss-crossed on the floor in her usual crew neck and skirt at school. She’s got a big smile on her face. The third one is of Iwaizumi in her almost-everyday high messy bun, holding the volleyball championship trophy. She notices they’re all photos Tooru took.
When Iwaizumi sees the fourth picture, she looks up and says, “This can’t be in here, Oikawa.”
As if she already knew what photo she was talking about, Tooru didn’t bother looking, only rolled her eyes as she ate her lunch. “And why not?”
Iwaizumi holds the phone up for the other two girls. “It literally looks like we’re dating,” she says.
The photo was taken the first time the girls got drunk. Iwaizumi was lying on the floor with a huge smile on her face, and Tooru was sprawled out on top of her. The worst part was that Iwaizumi had her hands tightly gripping her best friend’s waist. Why the hell would Tooru put that in her Tinder profile?
“What, so I don’t even get featured in your Tinder profile?” Tooru accuses. “You’re in mine.”
Because Iwaizumi genuinely cannot help herself – the curiosity was eating at her – she asks. “Let me see yours.”
Tooru proudly hands her her large pink phone. Iwaizumi looks at the photos. Iwaizumi wasn’t just “featured” in her Tinder profile, she was in every single picture. Iwaizumi didn’t even know they had this many pictures together. Iwaizumi, speechless, just hands the other two girls the phone. She’s not sure if she’s mortified or flattered.
“This cannot be real,” Hanamaki says, putting a hand over her mouth to contain her laugh.
“What?! I look good in the photos,” Tooru shrieks.
“Uh, yeah, so does your girlfriend,” Matsukawa laughs.
“This isn’t funny,” Iwaizumi says, her heart rate increasing and her cheeks feeling hot.
“We’re kidding, we know you guys don’t like each other like that,” Hanamaki says, grabbing a fry and throwing it into her mouth.
(Matsukawa gives her a look. Ooh, that was good .)
“Well, I’m not changing it,” Tooru says, snatching her phone back. “Besides, I’ve already gotten plenty of swipes.”
“Who called it?” Hanamaki raises her hand.
Iwaizumi grits her teeth and turns towards her own phone in determination. After deleting the image of her and Tooru, she continues on with her profile, jealous of the other girls' successes.
When the dating preferences question appears, Iwaizumi stares at it for a good fifteen seconds. Men, women, or both? She tries to discreetly look up, see if anyone’s looking, quickly clicks on ‘Women Only’ and tilts her phone closer to her.
Iwaizumi had never really considered her sexuality with much thought. She didn’t really have to – she’d never really been interested in men, she knew that much. She just isn’t sure how interested she is in girls. Does she like women? Could she be with a woman romantically? What about… sexually?
She shifts uncomfortably in her seat when she thinks about the sexual part. For some reason, she subconsciously looks at Tooru, who’s absentmindedly swiping on her phone and eating her pizza. She looks at her long eyelashes, her plucked eyebrows, her fluffy bangs that separate from her long ponytail down her back. She looks at her lips that have a fresh coat of lip gloss on them. Tooru is about as girl as they get. What about Tooru?
Fuck this Tinder thing , she thinks, now I’m thinking about lesbian sex in the middle of school. God .
Something had shifted in Iwaizumi’s body.
Every time she called Tooru’s name ( Oikawa , because she’s only Tooru in her head) for a set, she overthought how her voice sounded. Every time they high fived, she over thought about how the touch of their hands made her feel.
And now, Tooru was changing in front of her for the eight thousandth time, but Iwaizumi couldn’t help worrying that she was looking at her differently today. She’s pretty sure she’s worrying because she is looking at her differently. She was looking at the curve of her hip, the way her calves flex when she walks, and the abnormal amount of freckles on the inside of her arm.
Iwaizumi was now aware of the fact that she had memorized Tooru’s changing pattern. And she watched, and thought about it with every step. She had never watched before.
First is her shorts , Iwaizumi thinks, and Tooru takes off her shorts, revealing her light pink cheeky underwear. Sometimes Tooru wears thongs. Not today. Second is her socks , and Iwaizumi watches as Tooru contorts her long body to take off her socks. Tooru always completely undressed before actually putting any clothes on, so now was her shirt.
Today, Tooru’s tight athletic fitted shirt gets stuck on her head. She stands, arching her back as she struggles to pull the shirt over her head, getting her face stuck in it.
“Iwa-chan,” she says hurriedly, not needing to say anything else. Iwaizumi takes a step closer, close enough to grab her shirt and help her out.
“Straighten your arms,” she instructs, and she listens, and Iwaizumi successfully pulls her shirt over her head, trying (and failing) not to look at the pink t-shirt bra that somehow fits Oikawa’s boobs perfectly. Matching pink bra and underwear. Dear god.
Iwaizumi laughs a bit at Tooru’s hair that got disheveled in the process. Tooru frowns and swats at her bangs. “Mean, Iwa-chan,” she scolds.
Iwaizumi cuts herself off from looking at Tooru and focuses on changing her own clothes. She convinces herself that all of this overthinking and being super conscious of her best friend’s existence was just Hanamaki and Matsukawa getting in her head. After all, they’d gone this long without ever mentioning crushes or dating. Of course, now that this is brought up, Iwaizumi is going to be all too aware of it. They just put ideas into her head, is all.
(Everything is going according to plan.)
On the girls’ walk home, Iwaizumi’s phone makes a peculiar notification sound.
The other three girls simultaneously gasp. “Tinder!” They hiss.
“What’s the message say?” Hanamaki asks eagerly.
Iwaizumi takes her phone out and checks the message. She reads it out loud: “‘Crush my skull with your thighs.’ What the hell?”
“What?” Tooru snaps, grabbing her phone out of her hand. “‘Mai?’ This is a girl.”
“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says, taking her phone back with a blush. “Don’t make it weird.”
Tooru frowns at her. Maybe because she’s realizing there’s something about Iwaizumi she doesn’t know, and Iwaizumi knows she hates that. Iwaizumi isn’t sure why Tooru frowns. She doesn’t like it.
“Well, let’s check her out,” Matsukawa says, gesturing to see the phone.
Mai, according to her profile, is a very feminine alternative girl about twenty miles away. Her bio says “hello mascs with muscles.”
“‘Masc?’” Iwaizumi questions.
“I think that’d be you, babe,” Hanamaki says.
“Iwa-chan is not masc,” Tooru rolls her eyes. “Not to be misogynistic, but this girl is clearly crazy. Block.”
“Well, wait,” Matsukawa says, “she wants Iwaizumi to crush her skull with her thighs. We need to see this through.”
Iwaizumi thinks hard about this. She examines her facial features – a soft, round face with blunt bangs and shaggy black hair to her shoulders. She’s pouting in most of her photos with a peace sign up. Iwaizumi’s face scrunches up as she thinks.
She pockets her phone and says assertively, “It’s not your guys’ business.”
“Way to edge us,” Hanamaki complains.
“Shut up.”
“Jesus Christ!” Hanamaki yells at Iwaizumi, who’s on her sixth rep of squatting 225 pounds.
Iwaizumi finally releases a breath as she reracks the weight, taking deep breaths as she grabs her water from beside her.
“Is it weird I wouldn’t mind my skull being crushed by her thighs?” Hanamaki observes to Matsukawa.
“Can’t say I disagree,” Matsukawa shrugs.
“You’re honestly scary, Iwa-chan,” Tooru gapes. Tooru has never been good at squatting because her legs are too long. Still, on volleyball lift days, Tooru showed her strength in other ways. She comes over, pats Iwaizumi on the back, and says, “Come on, stretching time.”
Iwaizumi voicelessly follows her, tired from her last set. They sit down on a mat and begin stretching their legs, Iwaizumi still having quiet time.
“Iwa-chan, I did goblet squats today,” Tooru tells her, then shifts closer so that their knees are nearly touching. Tooru sits upright with her legs sprawled out in front of her. “Feel my quads.”
Iwaizumi gulps. She sits upright, reaches an arm over and gently places a hand on Tooru’s thigh. She feels Tooru attempting to flex her quad under her hand. She laughs a bit.
“Strong, right?” Tooru asks.
Iwaizumi takes a swig of her water to try to forget the feeling of Tooru’s shaved, warm thigh under her fingertips. “Yeah,” Iwaizumi says. She considers her next move in her head before going for it. She grabs Tooru’s hand and places it on one of her thighs. She flexes her quad. “Feel that?”
Tooru gasps. “Yes.” Iwaizumi stares at her long fingers and almost shuts her eyes to enjoy the feeling of them on. No time to bask in her best friend’s touch, though. She had witty banter to attend to.
“That’s what it’s supposed to feel like,” Iwaizumi grins.
“You and your big muscles,” Tooru sighs. “No wonder you have girls chasing after you.”
“Don’t be dumb,” Iwaizumi says, looking her in the eye. “You know I don’t.”
Iwaizumi isn’t sure what came over her for her to say that. Surely Tooru couldn’t care less, right? Why did she feel the need to reassure her?
Tooru looks at her with wide eyes. Then, as if her usual persona takes over, she covers her face and jokes, “So assertive, Iwa-chan!”
Iwaizumi gently slaps the back of her head. Tooru has no time to whine, however, because Makki and Mattsun land on the mat beside them.
“There’s a party tomorrow,” Hanamaki announces.
“Oo! Let’s go,” Tooru says, sitting up on her hands and knees to speak to Iwaizumi directly. She smiles up at her, batting her eyelashes. As if she didn’t know that Iwaizumi would give in to her no matter what she requested. Tooru wants to go to the party? Iwaizumi will go to the party.
“You know I don’t like them,” Iwaizumi complains.
“Don’t lie, Iwa-chan. I know you have fun with us,” Tooru smiles.
“Eh,” Iwaizumi says, just to give her a hard time.
“Please?” Tooru asks, leaning forward and placing her hand back on Iwaizumi’s lower thigh.
Iwaizumi takes a deep breath. What the fuck? Is Tooru trying to seduce her, or something? Why the fuck is her hand on her thigh? Iwaizumi darts her eyes around, frowning and avoiding eye contact.
“Fine, Shittykawa. I’ll drive so you guys can drink.”
The other girls raise their fists in triumph.
“You’re the best, Iwa-chan,” Tooru smiles at her, and Iwaizumi’s chest hurts.
Iwaizumi and Tooru always got ready for parties together. Just the two of them, since they lived close. Iwaizumi would walk over to Tooru’s, say hello to her mother, and walk straight up to her room. Her pink and white room that was simple and always clean, contrary to Iwaizumi’s.
When Iwaizumi walked in, Tooru was already in her light pink tank top and dark shorts, kneeling on the floor in front of her big mirror, applying makeup.
“Iwa-chan!” Tooru says, turning around and quickly getting up. “Perfect timing.” She grabs Iwaizumi’s shoulders, brings her over to the side of her bed, and then places herself crisscrossed with her back facing Iwaizumi. “Dutch braids, please. With bows on the ends.”
“Yes, your majesty,” Iwaizumi says sarcastically, grabbing Tooru’s (once again, pink) brush and beginning to section her hair. “Jesus, Oikawa! Clean this brush out for once!”
Tooru whips her head to glare at Iwaizumi behind her. “You really cannot be talking, Iwa-chan. I’ve seen the brush in your volleyball bag.”
Iwaizumi’s face flames. Okay, Tooru’s got her there.
As Tooru turns her head back, Iwaizumi inhales a gust of a new scent. Tooru usually always smelled like her favorite rose scented perfume, but today it smelled different. Like… apples.
“What are you wearing?” Iwaizumi asks, beginning to braid her hair, relishing the softness of it.
“What, is this not okay?” Tooru asks worriedly, looking down at her outfit.
“No, I mean the perfume.”
“Oh,” Tooru says. She tilts her neck to the side and taps it. “Good nose, Iwa-chan. It’s new. Smell.”
Iwaizumi gulps, staring at her smooth neck and her bare shoulders. After taking a deep breath, she steadily leans down, getting close enough to Tooru’s skin until the tip of her nose grazes her shoulder bone. She inhaled deeply, smelling a new scent. Iwaizumi was right. Apples.
When she pulls back, she sees Tooru’s skin begin to form goosebumps. She continues braiding her hair.
“It’s nice,” Iwaizumi says.
Oikawa is going to die .
And until then, she is going to curse Makki and Mattsun all the way to her grave for what they have done to her.
As they walk into the party, loud music abruptly swallowing their senses, Oikawa takes a deep breath and looks around. The second they get into the living room, there’s bodies filled to the brim.
“Come on!” Makki yells over the music, gesturing for the girls to follow her. She begins squeezing into the crowd, Mattsun closely following behind her.
Hajime puts a hand on the arch of Oikawa’s back and begins leading them through the crowd, pushing through people so that Oikawa could fit. Oikawa looks over at Hajime, already feeling hot, unsure if it was from being hypersensitive to Hajime's touch because of recent events or because there’s a lot of sweaty bodies around her. Someone bumps into Oikawa, causing her to bump into Hajime.
Hajime’s hand snakes around Oikawa’s waist, keeping her securely connected to her body as they trudge through the dance floor. Oikawa feels Hajime lean into her body, pressing her lips close to her ear. “You okay?” Hajime says, her lips brushing against Oikawa’s ear lobe, her hand squeezing the dip between her ribs and her hip bone.
Holy fuck. She’s going to die.
“Yeah,” she yells absentmindedly, genuinely not being able to think about anything besides where Hajime was touching her, how much she could feel her body, and how she definitely shouldn’t be feeling a warm eruption in her stomach from it.
They finally arrive in the kitchen with Makki and Mattsun, escaping the crowd of people.
“Shot for you,” Makki says, handing Mattsun a small cup, “and shot for you,” she grins, handing it to Oikawa. Oikawa, desperately needing a bit of a sedative, gladly downs it.
Hajime quickly grabs a can of Coke and hands it to Oikawa, whose face is contorting as she represses a gag. Oikawa quickly takes some sips of the Coke to drown out the flavor of whatever vodka that was. She offers Hajime the can, who gladly takes it and sips. Oikawa knows it’s her favorite. They always share drinks, Oikawa notices. Something has got to be wrong with her, thinking about how she’s sharing an indirect kiss with her best friend like a pubescent tween.
“Oh,” Hajime says, seemingly spotting someone in the crowd. “I’m gonna go say hi to Akaashi. You want this?” Oikawa waves her hand to dismiss the Coca-Cola.
“Be careful,” Oikawa says, but Hajime is already in the crowd, smiling brightly at her friend. Oikawa knows Akaashi Keiji is most definitely in love with her own best friend, so she didn’t feel threatened by her.
Wait a minute, why would Oikawa feel threatened? No, Hajime is not hers. Hajime can be with anyone she wants to and she doesn’t care.
“Iwaizumi looks like she’s having fun,” Makki says, leaning against the counter.
“Shut up, Makki,” Oikawa snaps, grabbing the pink haired girls cup and downing it without permission. “I need another shot.”
“Coming right up,” Makki giggles, pouring a small glass. As she does, Oikawa takes out her phone and opens Tinder, scrolling through her chats.
“How’s it going? I’m surprised you haven’t won, yet,” Mattsun says, glancing over at her phone. “You have so many chats!”
“Yeah,” Oikawa scowls at the chat that says: Let’s play shark attack, I eat you and you scream . “Do men have no shame?”
Mattsun barks out a laugh at the message. Oikawa scrolls some more, absentmindedly grabbing the shot Makki poured her and downing it, wishing Hajime was there with a Coke. She then grabs the mixed drink that Makki hands her and sips on it as she scrolls.
“There’s some girls in there,” Makki says, now also leaning against the counter, looking at Oikawa’s phone.
“Yeah, and?” Oikawa asks. “You know what?” Feeling tipsy and frustrated, she clicks on a random chat with a guy named Ritsu. She furiously types in all caps GO ON A DATE WITH ME and clicks send, then shoves her phone in her pocket. “There. This stupid competition will be done before Monday. I win.”
“I hate to burst your bubble,” Mattsun says, and Oikawa notices she’s looking at someone in the crowd. Oikawa follows her line of sight to see what she’s looking at. “But I think you may lose.”
Oikawa sees none other than Iwaizumi Hajime in the crowd, her back against the wall, a girl standing in front of her and chatting her up. Oikawa is first enthralled at how hot Hajime looks leaning against the wall and casually sipping her drink, and then she’s self-effacing for the way her heart rate inclines from looking at her, and then she pauses. She squints and looks closer at the girl. Has she seen her before?
She gasps. “No,” she draws, staring at the scene in front of her.
“Oh my god,” Makki says, also shocked.
“Holy shit, that’s her,” Mattsun finalizes. They all agreed. That is Mai from Tinder.
“Hold my fucking drink,” Oikawa says, holding her drink out to whoever (Mattsun) will grab it from her. She immerses herself into the crowd, not even thinking before raising her hands to her tank top strap and ripping it in half. As her top begins to fall down, she holds it up to her chest, shoving through people to get to Hajime.
Oikawa was much too used to the feeling in her gut. She’s felt it burning inside her for a long time. She feels it from Kageyama Tobio. She feels it from Ushiwaka sometimes. The pool of negativity in her stomach is eating at the rest of her senses, making her feel ill and angry and frustrated, and she knows it all too well to deny what it is.
Once Hajime is in sight, she yells, “Iwa-chan!”
Hajime looks up at her. My Hajime, she thinks. Bumping into Mai’s shoulder, Oikawa appears before her. Hajime quickly pushes herself off of the wall and looks worriedly at Oikawa. “What happened?” She asks, looking at the torn strap of Oikawa’s tank top.
“It got caught on something,” Oikawa lies, which comes out surprisingly smoothly. Must be the alcohol.
“Come on,” Hajime says, grabbing her wrist and beginning to walk away from Mai.
“Wait!” Mai says, grabbing Hajime’s wrist, preventing her from going further. “So, tomorrow?” She asks hopefully.
Oikawa tries to explode her with her eyes.
“I have plans,” Hajime says, and turns on her heels, pulling Oikawa through the crowd.
Oikawa turns around, making eye contact with Mai. She sticks her tongue out at her.
Hajime leads Oikawa into a small bathroom, flips the light switch on, then shuts the door. Oikawa’s ears ring from the sudden lack of intense music. She sits down on the toilet lid with a sigh. Hajime gets onto her knees in front of Oikawa, causing Oikawa to widen her eyes. Now that Hajime was at eye level, the girls look at each other’s faces. Oikawa’s heartbeat pounds through her ears at the sight.
Hajime turns her attention towards the broken strap of Oikawa’s tank top. She brings her hands up and begins tying the front and back of it together.
“So?” Hajime asks as she does. “What actually happened to it?”
Oikawa frowns and looks at the wall. “I told you what happened.”
Hajime laughs. “Yeah, okay.” She turns her body towards the other in-tact strap. She grabs it in her hands, strains her arms, and Oikawa’s jaw actually drops at the sight of her muscles working to pull the strap apart. Once Hajime successfully rips it, she begins tying it to match the other one.
Maybe Mai and her are more alike than she thinks. Oikawa wouldn’t mind being crushed by Hajime’s muscles.
“Why was she here?” Oikawa asks, watching Hajime as she works, trying to ignore the brush of her fingers against her shoulder.
“Apparently she goes to Shiratorizawa,” Hajime says.
Oikawa makes a bleh noise. “What did I tell you? I have instincts for this kind of thing. I knew there was something off about her.”
“I wasn’t gonna go out with her, anyways,” Hajime says, finishing tying her strap and leaning back a bit to just talk to Oikawa. It doesn’t last long, though, because Hajime is looking at something next to Oikawa’s ear and is slowly snickering.
“What?” Oikawa asks.
“Your earring is caught in your hair,” Hajime says.
Oikawa takes her hands off the toilet seat to reach for her ear. She hadn’t realized that her hands were there for stability, because when she lifts her hands, she tilts sideways and bangs her head against the wall.
Hajime lets out a throaty, genuine laugh.
“Mean, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa blushes.
“Are you drunk?” Hajime asks her with an amused face.
“No!” Oikawa says, pushing off the wall and sitting upright again, face to face with a kneeling Hajime. She plays with the earring, attempting to get the small hoop out of her hair without messing up the braids that Hajime did for her.
“I got it, I got it,” Hajime says, still slightly smiling as she puts her hands over Oikawa’s, pulling them away from the earring and replacing them with her own hands. Oikawa stares at Hajime’s face as she now works on untangling her earring. Has she ever even been this close to her face before? Oikawa can see the light beauty mark above Hajime’s lip very clearly. She realizes it’s not a perfect circle. She can still see Hajime’s canine peeking out from the small smile that separated her lips. She stares at her lips, pulling her own between her teeth.
“Hajime,” Oikawa says.
Hajime freezes, dropping her hands from Oikawa’s earring. Oikawa assumes she fixed it. Hajime stares at her from a few inches away. Oikawa’s stomach is incredibly warm. She looks at Hajime’s lips without shame. Is there a possibility that Hajime wants to kiss her? If she worded it that way in her mind, she could ignore the burning urge she felt to aggressively make out with her. If she put the blame on Hajime, it was fine.
“Yeah?” Hajime responds. Oikawa had never called her by her first name before. It was one of those things that had been set in stone when they were eight years old. Tooru is Oikawa, and Hajime is Iwa-chan. They were both convinced it would be that way until they died.
Oikawa looks back up at her eyes. Hajime’s eyebrows are slightly furrowed. Oikawa can tell she’s confused. So is Oikawa.
Until Hajime’s eyes glance down at Oikawa’s lips.
A small gasp fills Oikawa’s lungs at the sight.
The girls stare at each other, slowly leaning in, searching each other’s eyes for an explanation of what was going on; on what the other was feeling.
The bathroom door bursts open, a girl scrambling in, letting the rest of the world – that the girls had forgotten about – in. “Toilet!” She says with a hand over her mouth, gagging immediately after she says it.
Hajime pulls Oikawa onto her feet, shoving the girl into the bathroom and simultaneously getting them out of it. Hajime shuts the bathroom door, signifying the end of their safe haven and the re-entrance into the loud, horny room of teenagers.
“Are you ready to leave?” Hajime yells to Oikawa over the music. Oikawa nods at her, putting a hand on Hajime’s shoulder to communicate that Hajime could start walking. Hajime does, shoving through the crowd with Oikawa holding tight behind her.
“Makki!” Oikawa yells once she sees the girls, “Mattsun!” The girls turn their heads towards Oikawa, who shoves her thumb in the direction of the door. The girls shove through people and form a line of girls holding shoulders behind Oikawa.
Hajime drives Mattsun and Makki home first. Obviously. She then arrives at Oikawa’s house, puts the car in park, and turns towards her in the passenger seat.
“Can you come in and make sure I get to bed okay?” Oikawa asks.
Hajime rolls her eyes, but Oikawa knows it’s just for show. She turns the car off and unbuckles, and Oikawa smiles as she does the same, stepping out of the car.
They walk up Oikawa’s lawn, carefully open the door, and tip toe up the dark stairs into Oikawa’s room. When Oikawa quietly shuts the door, Hajime releases a big breath, sitting on Oikawa’s bed and letting herself sink into the mattress.
Oikawa turns on the small lamp, allowing for just enough light for her to see.
“Well, that was boring,” Oikawa sighs, dropping her phone on the carpet and beginning to undress. She’s been more self conscious of her body in front of Hajime, recently, so she wore her favorite black panties and matching bra. It was pretty much impossible for Oikawa to feel self conscious while wearing it.
She takes off her shorts, feeling free from the rough jeans material, sighing happily.
“It wasn’t so bad,” Hajime says, leaning back on her elbows. “Did you know Akaashi and Bokuto started dating?”
“No!” Oikawa gasps, going to take off her socks. “How did I not know this? I know everything.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re nosey.”
“Mean, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa scolds, walking over to her dresser in just her underwear and tank top. “Apparently not nosey enough. Well, I’m happy for them. It’s been obvious for forever.”
“Yeah,” Hajime says, clearly distracted from the conversation at hand. Oikawa looks up from her dresser to examine. Hajime is watching her with a half-smile on her face. “Do you do that consciously?” She asks.
Oikawa shifts her body to narrow her eyes at her with a hand on her hip. “Do what?”
“Your changing pattern,” Hajime says.
“My what?” Oikawa asks, turning back to her clothes and digging through her dresser.
“Nothing,” Hajime says.
“Have you been watching me change, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa teases, but is secretly freaking out.
“It’d be weirder if I hadn’t noticed by now,” Hajime says.
“And what is my changing pattern, exactly?” Oikawa takes off her tank top, letting it fall to the floor, standing in just her bra and underwear as she searches for her sleep shirt.
“Shorts, socks, shirt,” Hajime says.
Oikawa freezes. She’s partially surprised that she’s right, but mainly just in total and utter shock that Hajime has been paying enough attention to her undressing to notice a pattern in the way she unclothes herself.
“How about now? What’s next?” Oikawa asks.
Hajime clears her throat, imitating a higher pitched voice: “‘Turn around, Iwa-chan.’”
Oikawa giggles. She looks at Hajime expectantly until Hajime does what she’s told. Oikawa unclips her bra and throws it into her hamper, then rummages through her t-shirt drawer more. “Ugh, I can’t find my sleep shirt,” Oikawa says.
Hajime knew about Oikawa’s favorite sleep shirt – her extra long cotton shirt that had a list of soups on it. Hajime had got it for her as a gag gift a few Christmases back, during Oikawa’s soup phase. Oikawa wears it to bed most nights, but it was really important to wear it after drinking. Oikawa felt safest in her soup shirt at night.
“Is it in the hamper?” Hajime asks from the bed, where she faces the wall.
Oikawa checks. “No. I think my mom took some clothes from the bathroom and did laundry.”
“I’m wearing my volleyball shirt under my sweatshirt,” Hajime says, “you want it?”
Hajime also knows very well that Oikawa has stolen that shirt every chance she’s ever had. She knows Oikawa loves it.
“Please,” Oikawa says.
Oikawa watches Hajime take off her sweatshirt with her hands over her boobs, feeling warm at the fact that they were both going to be shirtless in the same room. They’re shirtless in the same room almost every day of their lives, but this felt different.
Hajime takes the shirt off, revealing the back of her Calvin Klein sports bra to Oikawa. Hajime, still facing the wall, holds the shirt in one hand behind her, offering it up for Oikawa. Oikawa tip toes over, keeping a hand over her boobs. Just in case. She grabs Hajime’s shirt and slips it over her head, inhaling the leftover scent of Hajime’s lavender deodorant on the shirt. Oikawa is an inch or two taller than Hajime, but she’s a lot thinner, so the shirt covered her underwear a bit, like the soup shirt.
Oikawa changes out of her underwear and puts clean, comfortable pink ones on, and then hurries over to her bed, where Hajime still sits, shirtless, facing the wall.
Oikawa slips under the covers, enjoying the feeling of her silk sheets on her bare legs. Hajime turns towards her, adjusting to face her at her spot on the end of the bed. “Good?” Hajime asks her.
Oikawa nods. “Good. Thank you, Iwa-chan.”
Hajime slips her sweatshirt over her head, much to Oikawa’s disdain. Watching Hajime get off of her bed and stand up to leave is hurting her chest. She thinks about how different the vibe is in the room tonight than every other night they’ve been friends. Or, not the vibe. It’s always felt… intimate with Hajime. It’s always felt caring. When Oikawa thinks about it, it’s also been slightly romantic, too. Putting Oikawa to bed, lending her the t-shirt off her body. Those things have always happened. How Oikawa feels is different.
“Night,” Hajime says, beginning to walk towards the door of her bedroom. She opens the door. Oikawa doesn’t want her to leave.
“Iwa-chan,” she blurts, sitting upright in her bed.
Hajime turns the doorknob and turns towards her. “Yeah?”
Oikawa stares at her. “If that girl hadn’t walked in earlier,” she says, and oh my god what the fuck am I saying how could I say this this is obviously something we are not supposed to talk about outloud this is a very much internal thought – “would we have kissed?”
Hajime stares at her, opens the door and takes a step out. With her back facing Tooru, she says, “Yeah.”
Then, she’s gone.
Oh my fucking god , is the first thing Iwaizumi thinks when she wakes up. Oh my fucking god .
She checks her phone. A text from Tooru. Wanna get lunch?૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა This is normal. Tooru always sends a morning text, and she always asks to get lunch on Sundays. Tooru is probably trying to make Iwaizumi feel better for her fucking insane thing that she admitted last night. Tooru is probably trying to gently reject Iwaizumi’s feelings for her. This is her way of gently communicating that this is not an extremely homoerotic friendship of ten years, but rather, Iwaizumi is just a lesbian in love with her best friend.
Iwaizumi ignores the text. She has to grieve the events of the past three days. Within seventy-two hours, she had realized she had feelings for her best friend, almost kissed her, told her she was going to kiss her, and then got rejected by her.
Iwaizumi knows this isn’t the end of their friendship. Tooru would never stop being friends with her over something like this.
It just hurts that Iwaizumi felt like they both finally realized what was missing from their friendship for years. She felt like it had finally clicked in place how they were meant to be, that there were repressed feelings finally coming to surface for the both of them. The touching, the fact that neither of them could develop an interest in dating anyone else, knowing each other from their sleep shirts to their changing patterns to their favorite drinks. Iwaizumi finally felt the warmth of romantic feelings for Oikawa Tooru, and felt the comfort of being able to think about kissing her without guilt.
Iwaizumi rubs at her eyes in bed, swinging her legs over and keeping her head in her hands. She sniffles the snot away, wiping the stubborn tears that had formed in her eyes. She stands up, walking over to her backpack to grab a notebook.
She has to take her mind off of it somehow, so she grabs her psychology notebook to begin studying for her exam tomorrow. She flips through her notes, circling all of the important facts as she reads her messy handwriting.
When she gets to the “Reverse Psychology” page she had written a few weeks ago, she furrows her eyebrows. She tilts her head and looks closer at what she had written.
REVERSE PSYCHOLOGY:
-a technique involving the assertion of a belief/behavior opposite of the desired one, with the expectation that this will persuade the subject to believe/behave in the desired way
-if you tell someone they don’t want something, they’ll start to think about wanting it
Iwaizumi stares at the information. Huh , she thinks, this is pretty much exactly what happened with my feelings for Tooru .
Ever since Hanamaki and Matsukawa made the Tinder bet.
Iwaizumi’s body lurches forward as she thinks back on that day.
“It’s not like you guys have a crush on anyone, right?”
“We’re kidding, we know you guys don’t like each other like that.”
Iwaizumi grabs her phone, furiously texting Hanamaki and Matsukawa.
You bitches are in a lot of trouble. Meet me at the library at noon.
“You look like shit,” Matsukawa says as she approaches Iwaizumi at an empty library table.
Iwaizumi stands up when they arrive, then sits down when they’re seated across from her. “Yeah, thanks, I’ve been overthinking my best friend and I’s entire friendship and getting weirdly turned on by her every move and told her I wanted to kiss her and now I’ve been fucking rejected and can’t ever face her again. So, yeah, thank you so much.”
“Damn,” Hanamaki says, counting on her fingers, “That’s, like, quintuple homicide.”
“I am seconds away from punching you in the face.”
“Okay, listen,” Matsukawa says, raising a hand in between them to try to ease the tension. “What happened?”
“You guys know exactly what you did. You manipulated my brain,” Iwaizumi hisses.
“Okay, so maybe we added some… incentive to admit your feelings for Oikawa,” Hanamaki says. “The feelings were already there.”
“Well, I didn’t have to know that!” Iwaizumi says, holding her head in her hands.
“Oikawa clearly likes you back,” Matsukawa says.
“No,” Iwaizumi says. “No. I fucked up.”
“Why do you think that?”
Iwaizumi slams her forehead against the table and leaves it there. “Last night, at the party, we almost kissed in the bathroom. When we got home, she asked if we were about to, and I said yes. This morning, she texted and asked if I wanted to get lunch.”
Hanamaki and Matsukawa glance at each other. “Um, we’re not getting that you got rejected at all,” Hanamaki says.
“She asked to get lunch. With an emoticon. God. She’s ignoring the kissing stuff and letting me down gently.”
“God, I hate you gay people,” Hanamaki groans, leaning back in her seat exasperatedly. “Can you just talk to her like a normal human being? The lack of communication is making me ill.”
Iwaizumi’s eyebrow twitches in offense. She supposes they’re right, even if she has no hope left for herself. Maybe talking to Tooru will help give her peace of mind.
Iwaizumi sighs as she steps into her house, slipping her shoes off. She at least needed a shower before speaking to Tooru. She couldn’t wallow in her sadness all day.
She walks into her bedroom, and immediately jumps at the sight.
Tooru, in her bed, sitting upright with her legs under the covers. She stares at Iwaizumi like she’s about to scold her. If she weren’t in love with her, the image would definitely belong in some fucked up pretty girl horror movie.
“Wha–” Iwaizumi gapes.
“You do not leave me on read, Iwa-chan,” she says angrily.
“I– Is this– okay.”
“Where have you been?”
“With Makki and Mattsun,” she explains, still standing at her door dumbfounded.
“Without me?”
“It was about you,” Iwaizumi blurts.
Tooru gets quiet, furrowing her eyebrows and looking at the bed. “Bad stuff?” She asks quietly.
Iwaizumi sighs, walking over to the bed and sitting at the edge of it, a few feet away from Tooru. “No,” she says. “You know what it was about.”
“Tell me,” Tooru says quickly. Iwaizumi turns her head to look at her. Tooru pushes the covers off and gets on all fours on the bed, leaning close towards Iwaizumi’s face with big eyes. “Tell me.”
Jesus Christ, she knew exactly how to get what she wanted from Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi stares hard, her heart beating quicker at the sight. “You know I like you,” Iwaizumi says, her eyebrows still furrowed at the situation.
Tooru bites her lip. “Yeah?”
Iwaizumi stares at her face, eyes drawn to where Tooru lets her bottom lip go from the hold of her teeth, leaving her mouth slightly parted. Iwaizumi wants her mouth on hers so bad, her fingers twitch from holding back from grabbing her, still in her t-shirt from last night. The t-shirt that said Iwaizumi on the back.
“Kiss me,” Tooru whispers.
Iwaizumi does. Quickly. Before she can think about it. She pushes their lips together, inhaling deeply the second their mouths were on each other’s. She quickly brings a knee under her to hoist herself up on the bed, gaining enough stability to be able to grab Tooru’s face with her hands. Iwaizumi leans into the kiss even more, causing Tooru to yelp as she’s pushed backwards onto the bed, Iwaizumi on top of her. Iwaizumi can’t stop kissing her, though. She tilts her head so that their lips slot together properly, moving their lips against each other, trying to feel more.
Iwaizumi, breathing heavily, pulls away for a second, flopping onto the bed next to Tooru, keeping her face in her hands. Tooru turns her body so they’re staring at each other, an inch apart. “You’re sure this is okay?” Iwaizumi asks, searching her face for any sign of doubt.
“I told you to,” Tooru smiles.
Iwaizumi could cry. She nods, leaning in again and sighing into Tooru’s mouth. She wasn’t sure what she thought her mouth would feel like, but nothing she could have imagined could ever amount to the softness of her lips and the lightness of her tongue that keeps accidentally grazing hers.
When Tooru lifts her hand up to touch Iwaizumi’s wrist that held her face, Iwaizumi jumps and pulls back.
“What’s wrong?” Tooru asks, panic brewing in her expression.
“Nothing,” Iwaizumi says, then laughs a bit. “I’ve just been really aware of your touch recently.”
“Me, too,” Tooru says. “I’ve done stuff on purpose, though, to get you to touch me,” she confesses.
Iwaizumi brushes her fingers through Tooru’s hair as she asks, “Like what?”
“Like…” she thinks, and Iwaizumi dips her head into her neck and gently places her mouth along it. “Iwa-chan,” she scolds, but sounds like she’s high on pleasure.
“Like?” Iwaizumi asks.
“Like when we were stretching, and the perfume” she admits. “And I ripped my tank top.”
Iwaizumi laughs. “You’re awful,” she says.
“Am not.”
“You are. You’ve been driving me crazy,” she says against her neck, then lifts her head to settle her ear against the pillow, just looking at Tooru from this close together. She purses her lips, then says, because she trusts Tooru with her entire heart, “I’m a little scared. I’ve never, like, this is my first time…”
Tooru’s eyebrows furrow, and then her eyes widen in surprise. Flustered, she squirms under Iwaizumi’s touch. “Oh, right now? I didn’t think we would. I’m not even wearing matching panties. I mean–”
“No,” Iwaizumi says, briefly mortified, then laughs, smiling brightly at Tooru. She seems to calm down at that, shoulders sinking into the mattress. “We’re not having sex right now.”
Tooru frowns. “Well, I was gonna say no, but why are you saying no?”
Iwaizumi laughs, leans in, and kisses her lips, letting out a soft hum at the feeling. She pulls away just enough to say against her lips, “I meant I’m scared of losing you as a friend.”
“With my whole heart, Iwa-chan, I cannot see that happening in any universe,” Tooru says, affirmatively, and it makes Iwaizumi’s heart stutter at her determined expression. “The odds are the same whether we’re friends or… girlfriends. If you want to be that. I want that if you want that.”
“I want that,” Iwaizumi says, smiling, too giddy to hold back. She kisses Tooru again, hard, closed lips, just overwhelmed with happiness. Tooru erupts with giggles as Iwaizumi crawls over top of her, kissing her cheeks, her nose, her eyes, then travels down her neck. Using the hand that isn’t being used to hold herself up, she presses her fingers under Tooru’s shirt into the dip of her waist, rubbing circles into the skin.
Tooru lets out a small sound that sounds suspiciously similar to a moan and Iwaizumi smiles, kissing down to her collar bones.
“Okay, you can’t do this if we’re not having sex,” Tooru mumbles, and Iwaizumi can’t see her face, but she knows she’s pouting.
“We’re not having sex right now.”
“Why not?”
“We’re both virgins.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“ We’re both virgins .”
Iwaizumi winds up pulling Tooru’s shirt up her stomach a bit, settling between her legs. She presses her cheek against her bare skin, wrapping her arms around her torso, and shuts her eyes.
“You’re so warm,” Iwaizumi says, nuzzling her face into Tooru’s stomach.
Tooru, apparently, has been rendered speechless for the first time in her life, because her only response is to gently place her hands on the top of Iwaizumi’s head. Iwaizumi feels like she could die here, finally feeling the sense of content that’s been missing her whole life. The mindless touches with Tooru have never been enough, have never lasted long enough to fulfill her in this way. In a romantic way.
“Do you want to have sex, though? Sometime?” Tooru asks, and Iwaizumi thinks it’s perfectly funny and awkward and comfortable.
“Yes,” Iwaizumi answers.
“I figured. You watch me change a lot , apparently.” Iwaizumi smiles against her stomach, turning her head momentarily to peck Tooru’s belly button. Tooru flinches beneath her, a laugh bubbling out of her throat. “You know my belly button is ticklish, Iwa-chan.”
Iwaizumi turns her head and blows raspberry right into her belly button, causing both of them to erupt in a fit of sweet laughter, a kind that can only be drawn out of a chest that has a crush in its heart.
“Now you really deserve a spanking.”
And, well, Iwaizumi decides that they’ll probably be okay.
The next morning, Hajime meets her friends outside of her house with a leisurely attitude.
She walks right up to Tooru, who has earbuds in while she waits for Hajime, and gives her a kiss on the cheek. Tooru smiles in surprise, taking her headphones out and handing Hajime a warm piece of onigiri. Hajime happily plops it in her mouth, grabbing Tooru’s warm hand in her own, intertwining their fingers.
As the four of them begin to walk to school, Makki says in an absolute monotone and robotic voice, “Wow, I am so surprised. Who knew that you two liked each other.”
“This is indeed shocking, Hanamaki,” Matsukawa agrees, sporting the same level of monotony that Makki did.
Tooru sighs happily, swinging her and Hajime’s intertwined hands as they walk. “I can’t even be mad. All’s well that ends well,” she shrugs, and Hajime lightly laughs in adoration at how philosophical she sounds.
Hajime, her brain brewing with an idea, says, “Yeah, sorry, guys, but the competition is gonna have to be just between you two.”
She’s met with a brief silence, and then Makki says, “Well, it’s not fun with just the two of us.”
“Shying away from the competition, Makki?” Tooru asks, squeezing Hajime’s hand as a signal.
“Yeah, it’s not like you guys like anyone, right?”
Hajime and Tooru turn their heads innocently at the girls behind them, pink hair and black hair turned away from each other with wide eyes.
Grinning successfully at each other, Hajime and Tooru walk the rest of the way to school with butterflies in their stomachs, relishing in the feeling of their first crushes.
It might’ve taken a bit of manipulation to get there.
But, all’s well that ends well.