oikawa tooru oneshots

3 • ALL THE SMALL THINGS - BLINK 182

You were no stranger to strenuous situations; in fact, life seemed to think that putting you in disadvantageous positions was the peak of comedy, considering the amount of times you'd had to put up with bullshit.

Yet at this particular moment in your existence, fate decided to sit in on the show that was put on by bad luck, and performed by circumstance, who was the one controlling your pathetic little puppet, strings tangled and all.

A pantomime of humiliation, an amusingly tragic portrayal of the twisted web you'd been caught in.

Helpless would be an accurate word to describe you at this current point, since you were literally helpless to that weird, utterly confusing thing that other, more sane people referred to as love. It was not an emotion you were too familiar with, since you only associated wanting to kiss somebody if they were a fictional character on the screen of your phone (and most likely in your favourite anime series).

But the person you were attracted to was Oikawa Tooru, and boy — oh, man, there was a lot to unpack just from mentioning his name.

To be blunt, Oikawa was a young guy in your year group, with a popularity that seemed god-like, a volleyball serve that looked like it could break stone, an appearance that was so outwardly beautiful it gained him a fanclub, and a somewhat scary dedication to his favourite sport.

So, why did you like him? Well, he interested you. Not only did he somehow manage to have this absurd duality, he was perhaps the most badly treated person you'd ever encountered. Oikawa was indeed fantastic, but since he wasn't a prodigy, he was constantly beaten by those who were blessed with 'the gift'.

It was certainly unfair, but you were ashamed to admit that you found a strange curiosity in the unfairness of it all - he was a tragedy, and it made you want to pick him apart, page by page, like he was a book from the nineteenth century.

The literary devices that had carefully slotted into space to create this imperfect yet flawless person were fascinating; his language was constructed with purpose, every single distinction trait of Oikawa contributed to his enticing, yet so very broken, personality.

No wonder he lured so many fans in, no wonder he'd lured you in.

So, you became friends with him, though with effort, since behind that princely facade he was quite a wary person, who was well aware of people only getting close to him for his reputation; and it did hurt you to see him for what he was. He was so different from the persona he displayed to the public. Behind all of that perfection, was such a flawed young man it was painful, with insecurities untold, with an inferiority complex so jarring it scared you.

He was a shattered piece of glass, held together barely by glue, but looking at it face on, there were no cracks visible.

He was...

No — you weren't about to try and describe Oikawa Tooru. Words could never do him justice.

You figured that the least you could do was to give him support in the most insignificant of ways. A note on his locker, detailing how proud you were of him for getting through every day, a flower on his desk, each one representing a different emotion, a milk bread for his lunch every Friday.

Barely noticeable; small things.

At first, you couldn't tell if he appreciated the gestures or not, since he never commented on them. Although, you didn't mind, at all. It gave you comfort to do these things, knowing that even if you weren't helping, you were still conveying to him that you cared. Maybe you cared a bit too much, the indications were bordering on something that somebody might do for their partner, but you pushed the notion to the back of your head. He hadn't mentioned anything about it, so you wouldn't either.

Well, till he did mention it.

"You're being really nice to me," Oikawa commented, watching your nimble fingers, as you absentmindedly corrected his crooked tie that he'd carelessly wrapped around his neck that morning.

"And?" you retorted, your eyes fixed firmly on the red fabric in your hands.

"Why?" he asked, his voice slightly shaky.

You paused; the hallway was crowded, with Matsukawa, Hanamaki and Iwaizumi standing less than a metre away from you two, the passing students leaving lingering glances on the ever popular Oikawa, but you found that you didn't care.

"I like you," you answered shortly, "and I want you to be happy."

It was cowardly, you supposed, since after that you didn't dare look at his face, and stared firmly at his sweater. His uniform suited him quite well, you duly noted, the blazer white ironed immaculately, with all the buttons done up firmly.

When his calloused fingers traced your jaw, you jumped slightly, and glanced up, to find him looking right at you, his eyes desperate, searching your expression for some sign (a sign of what? You didn't know), as he whispered his next words; "Then show me more."

Oikawa didn't utter 'please', but you knew it was an undercurrent of his sentence.

So you showed him.

More.

You used his tie to pull him forwards, then tilted his head sideways, and pressed your mouth against his. You didn't give a fuck about the others around you, you just wanted to fufill his request, and give Oikawa exactly what he wanted. The kiss was harsh, furious, because you were somewhat irritated that he'd been unable to get the message through the smaller things you'd done.

But all your annoyance flushed away, when he wound his hands through your hair, and moved his pink, soft lips against yours, begging for more. So you gave him more — and you showed him exactly how much you liked him, how much you wanted him to be happy.

Because Oikawa Tooru deserved it.