Haikyuu imagines

Protecting him- Oikawa

You notice the guy following you two before Oikawa does-mostly because he's too busy complaining about how the vending machine "stole his 100 yen again" like it's a personal attack.

Then the guy speeds up. Then he pulls something shiny from his pocket.

"Oikawa," you hiss, nudging him. "Hm? Is this about the vending mach-OH."

The knife glints under the streetlight, and Oikawa makes a sound that's definitely not manly.

"Wallet," the man snaps. "Now."

Oikawa immediately throws his hands up. "Okay! Okay! No need for violence, I am far too pretty to scar-"

The guy jerks the knife forward.

Oikawa freezes.

Without thinking, you grab Oikawa's sleeve and tug him back, stepping in front of him. The knife skims your arm-just barely-a sharp sting and nothing more. The man panics and runs when you yell, "HEY!" You shake your arm out. "Huh. That's gonna bruise."

Oikawa, meanwhile, is staring at your arm like it's hanging off by a thread.

His face drains of color. His hands flutter uselessly. "Oh my god. Oh my god. You're hurt. You're-YOU'RE BLEEDING."

You look down. It's a tiny line of red. Barely even dripping.

"Oikawa," you sigh.

He doesn't hear you. He drops to his knees in front of you, cupping your cheeks with trembling hands like you're about to take your last breath.

"Why-why would you protect me? Why would you throw yourself in front of a KNIFE for me? I-no, I love you. God, I love you so much and I haven't even told you yet and now you're-"

"Oikawa."

He keeps going. "You can't die on me, okay? You can't-"

"OIKAWA."

He finally shuts up.

You raise your sleeve to show him the wound. A tiny, pathetic scratch.

"I'm not dying, you idiot. It barely scratched me."

Oikawa blinks. Once. Twice.

"...Oh."

You stare at him.

He stares back.

Then he clears his throat, stands up way too fast, and dusts off his knees like he didn't just confess his undying love in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Well-uh-ahem-my declaration of feelings still stands," he says, trying to recover his dignity. He fails. Miserably. "But maybe we don't tell anyone I thought you were dying?"

You smirk. "Oh, I'm definitely telling Iwa."

He groans. "NOOO-(Y/N), PLEASE-"

And just like that, he's back to his dramatic self, trailing behind you and whining while you hold your barely-there scratch.