failed attempts to fly

the grass is green, and the girls are pretty

Biceps curls, chest press, pull-ups. And adding mountain climbers just for the fun of it. Circuit training until the sweat dripping from his brown hair drenches his shirt. Increasing the weight, increasing the intensity until his muscle burned. Turning up the volume of Metcallia screaming on his headphone to ignore the fatigue washing over his body.

One more set, one more rep. He won't be satisfied until his body is aching to stop, until that beautiful release of dopamine mixes with the pre-workout in his veins.

"Iwa~chan"

"Iwa."

"Hello!"

It wasn't until he felt the soft thud of a medicine ball colliding with his back, making him turn to see who was calling for him. "Dude, what the fuck!"

"I've been calling your name." The man crosses his arms, turning his lips into a dramatic pout.

"And? I'm busy." He continued his circuit that was rudely interrupted by his best friend. "What do you want, Oikawa?"

Rolling his eyes at his friend's usual bluntness, he huffs, "are you going to the party or not?"

Iwaizumi returns the eye roll to his friend, who went to the trouble of walking all the way to the college gym just to ask him that question.

"You just want me to go because you want to get shit-faced and need a babysitter." Iwaizumi scoffs as he gathers his things.

"Yeah, so?" Oikawa unabashedly responds. "But that's not the only reason. What if that girl goes too? I mean, everyone is going."

Despite the minor headache, Oikawa gave him, Iwaizumi confided in his friend, asking him if he knew anyone named "Rin."

"It's only like the most popular name, so yeah. I know a few. Slept with a few too."

Oikawa's remark made him groan and made him regret even asking. But apparently, his slender friend with the shaggy brown hair has this thing called "charm" or whatever. Makes all the women and some men giddy with his presence. If anyone knew who Rin was, someone like Oikawa would know.

The chances of running into each other by the smelly dumpster were high. But he wanted more than chance and simple run-ins.

He wanted more.

********************

"Iwa-Chan, here is in a band, can you believe it, ladies? If you ask nicely, he'll probably sing for—"

"—no. I won't." Iwaizumi immediately interrupts. No offense to the lovely ladies, but he was not interested in being used as a wingman against his will.

Not that his best friend needed any help in the ladies' department. Since high school, Oikawa has had ample fangirls giggling over him. An inconvenience when trying to go home from a game, but other than that, it never bothered Iwaizumi. The fans usually brought snacks. Iwaizumi loves snacks.

Iwaizumi has never needed any help in the love and sex department. Correction—never needed any help in the sex department. Because that's what it always boiled down to, meaningless hookups. He certainly wasn't complaining about it. But at some point, that just became exhausting.

"Has Oikawa told anyone that you'll sing for them yet?" A man chuckles, walking into the party kitchen to find Iwaizumi hiding.

"Yeah. And Oikawa is not even drunk yet." Iwaizumi chuckles. "What's up, Semi?"

Semi Eita is a master guitarist and aspiring songwriter. They met at Paradise City when he needed new stings for his guitar. A perk of working at a music store is unlimited jamming out. Just as long as there were no customers, of course. Semi walked into the store when Iwaizumi was channeling his own Travis Barker. "You got skills, man. Ever thought of joining a band?"