Physical Attraction | Sakusa Kiyoomi

52.

I felt like I was back at step one.

Miya's gaze burned a hole on my back. I briefly explained him why exactly Oikawa was able to help me. He was pissed. If the full minute he merely stared at me with narrowed eyes hadn't told me that, his aggressive walk out of the dining hall did the job. He hadn't asked me to follow him but had walked slowly enough for me to easily catch up. The fact that he didn't speed up and slam his room door in my face were positive signs, too. He roughly grabbed his notebook and almost threw it at me. Though he was angry, I wasn't quite sure exactly who his anger was directed at. At me? For sure. But not angry enough to type in his password and open a video chat application that listed Oikawa as a contact. His anger was probably directed at Oikawa, too. But he seemed much more pissed at Arisa. Must certainly be hard to learn so much of his best friend's information from someone else - I wouldn't know.

So, while Miya was burning a hole in my back, I earned a displeased stare from Oikawa on the front camera.

I didn't mind Oikawa's look, but the fact that it pinched me inside that Miya was apparently more upset with me once again felt strange. Another thing I would tell my therapist in the next session.

"What are you doing on Atsu-kun's laptop?"

Atsu-kun.

Do. Not. Comment.

"He lent it to me."

"I can see that, thank you." His eyes twitched briefly in the motion of wanting to twist them, however decided to maintain his petrified facade. "What do you want?"

While with Arisa he could hardly stop talking about trivial stuff, with me he seemed to want to get right to the point. Well, I could hardly blame him.

I also didn't feel like chatting with him any more than necessary.

"I need your help."

"Oh, you don't say." This time he couldn't help rolling his eyes.

He didn't believe me. However, some skepticism resonated in his annoyed expression; after all, he was certainly wondering why I was calling him.

"I'm serious. I need your help," I repeated with twitching fingers. I might have been able to say it, but my body was resisting to ask fucking Oikawa Tōru for advice.

With his arms folded, he leaned back in his chair. Unimpressed, he raised an eyebrow before his eyes grew wide with realization.

"Oh, you fucked up." His stiffened posture loosened. His arms were now resting on his desk to get closer to his screen, as if trying to read my features to see if he was right in his statement or not.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn't help but narrow my eyes in annoyance, which was answer enough for him.

"Oh my God." He laughed dryly. Incredulous. "You fucked up with her - not that I'm surprised or anything," he added as he sat back against his seat. Without looking at me, he raised his index finger to signal that he wasn't done talking. No, he just needed the dramatic pause in between.

"Whatever you had with her, you fucked up," he repeated for the third time, and only God kept me from putting my twitching finger on the red button to end the call. His mouth stayed open as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

I let him have his moment, because his reaction was justified. To ask him for help after our incident in Argentina was impudent, I knew that myself.

Whatever he wanted to say just now, he decided against it. His look now seemed more bored, as if he wanted to get the conversation over with. A conversation that was already over for him when he recognized my face on his screen.