[Book 1]
Your friend demands that you be the script writer for the supposed love story between her and Oikawa Tooru.
Or in which you're forced to shove two people together, painstakingly describing their romance arc, as you slowly fall for the volle...
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You and Oikawa met up every night for dinner after the previous occasion, and effectively reconnected and became more comfortable with each other. Though, the more you saw him, the more your supposedly long dead feelings grew for him. And it seemed his flirting was increasing, which was a warning sign in itself.
However, you were dreading Thursday night, yet it seemed to come way too quickly. Before you knew it, you were standing outside a bar, with your dad, practically shaking with nerves. Your father was talking, but you couldn’t really hear him, something about the live music being very good; in that moment, you felt like you were about to walk on a stage in front of millions of people.
“Are you nervous about seeing Tooru all dressed up?” your dad nudged you playfully.
“Why would he need to get dressed up?” you asked, giving him a questioning look.
“Well, it is a night out with his friends,” he answered, “he’s got to clean up a little bit.”
The idea of seeing Oikawa in something you’d wear at a party made your stomach fold in on itself, and you struggled to hold back the scream of embarrassment stuck in your throat.
“I see,” you spoke curtly. “Can we go in now? It’s cold as hell out here.”
“Sure, sure,” your dad laughed, and the two of you entered the bar.
All things considered, it was a very low-key place; dimly lit, with a violin quartet playing some tango pieces for background atmosphere, with a few couples dancing to the music, and the sound was only quiet chatter from the customers. You followed your father round to a large table, where you took a seat, and removed your jacket.
“Nice bar, right?” your dad commented, sitting across from you.
You hummed in agreement, still looking around, gaze fixed absentmindedly on the wall where some artwork was. Your hand tapped against the wood in time with the tunes being performed, and your eyes became half lidded and sleepy.
“Ah, there you are Tooru!”
That snapped you out of your daze.
You turned to where your father was waving, and then wished you hadn’t. Oikawa had cleaned up real good, wearing all black, with a couple of buttons undone on his shirt, and his hair pushed back slightly.
Now you wished you had made a bit more of an effort to have a somewhat decent appearance.
Oikawa smiled at the sight of you both and walked over. “Hola,” he greeted slyly, eyes sparkling with mirth when you scowled.
“Buenas noches,” your father replied. “Where are your teammates?”
“Should be here soon,” Oikawa shrugged, before sitting down at your table, purposely not speaking to you. “It was a good idea for you to come here at this time, it usually only gets wild late at night.”
