delude || oikawa.t x reader

|3| the fan and his idol

No wonder the name brings chills to the back of his spine. The eerie feeling quivers on his bottom lip. Oikawa could've sworn he had recognized that name somewhere, especially after weeks of reading that book written by a particular girl named (F/n) (L/n). Weeks of admiring this person's works, to his realization that it's someone who enrolls in Aoba Johsai.

His palms were sweating, his heart throbs painfully, feeling oddly anxious when he knows that he'll finally be meeting the author of an unknown book he'd taken a liking for.

The tip of his fingers brushes against the surface of the door handle. The art club, that's where (F/n) is. It brings a sense of puzzlement when he learns that, his first and only favorite author is in fact, an artist, is it a side hobby? or does she excels in that field too?

She sounds so perfect, it makes him feel like he's drowning into the depths of his unnerving self-consciousness.

Oikawa opens the door reluctantly, feeling the slight hint or regret.
"Excuse me, is there anyone named (F/n) (L/n) in here?"

Oblivious to the attention he's getting from the members of the art club, his eyes proceeds to study the students inside the club room. A girl stood up from her seat, and Oikawa had forgotten how to breathe at that especial moment, admiring her features from the entrance of the club room.

"That would be me, is there anything I could help you with?"

Everyone is different, and that makes them the same.
It's her, something about her makes him feel so sure about it. She's the person who wrote those peculiar words that would be written on his grave. She's just another human, an ordinary person, what makes her different in the eyes of Oikawa Tooru?

It's because she wrote down such astonishing things for him to read.

He bites the inside of his cheek dismissively, feeling rather insecure as the girl who stood on front of him is indeed very... breathtaking. She isn't a hot topic in the school, neither is she popular among the male students, she's normal to everyone else, but she's extraordinary for his brown irises.

"Can we.. talk in somewhere more private?" Oikawa requests, words hesitating to be spit out. She turns around to a member of the club, which he reckons as the club leader, they nodded their head in approval as she adverts her gaze back to the brunet.

The hallways were awfully quiet, what remains are the soft echoes from the other club rooms, sound of a guitar, a person's voice, bickers, and their footsteps as he leads her to an empty and unused classroom.

Honestly, (F/n) would have thought Oikawa was going to assault her or do something else to her. Perhaps nothing sexual, since she doesn't believe she has the body nor face to attract others with their hormones. But those were mere assumptions, and those speculations were detached from her brain as his fretful yet endearing gaze finally caught her eyes.

"I love your writing, the one that's titled 'Boring'!"

Oikawa blurts out, which took her by surprise. (F/n) understands that she is in fact, a very unknown author, and her ratings weren't the best as her book is reviewed to be too depressing, or lacking some euphoric elements, but those things just makes her stories better for Oikawa Tooru. Her realistic, yet reverie writing is something only a few can appreciate, in this case, it's the captain of Aoba Johsai's volleyball club. So receiving such compliment personally enlightens her.

"I didn't know someone would be interested in my stories, thank you," she replies, managing the most sincere smile which left a tint of sorrow that is unbeknownst to her, noticed by Oikawa's sharp and analytical eyes.

Oikawa never assumed the author to be a bubbly or cheerful person as it is highly obvious from such absurdity of her works, so he wasn't really shocked once he pierced himself into her facade effortlessly to find a familiar sense misery clutching on every gestures she creates. It's a depressing story, an adventure that makes you muse in your own thoughts, and those things were written by a female author named (F/n) (L/n) who holds firmly to her masquerade, a synthetic smile that evokes him with himself.

"What's your name?"
He perks up to her question, the fact that he's having a normal conversation with a girl, yet alone someone he truly holds admiration for, it's too good to be real.

"O-Oikawa Tooru! It's really nice to meet you, (L/n)!"

It feels weird to be the one being a stammering mess around a girl. He's too used for it to being the other way around, he had never hold such immense and strong feelings for anyone before, and it bothers him to the very core. Out of all the girls to exist, he didn't want to embarrass himself on front of a person whom indirectly became a huge part of his life by stuttering all over the place.

"What do you like about the story, Oikawa?" she asks, looking up to him as they lock their gazes deeply into each others' eyes. How unbearable, every inch of his body is shaking by an inevitable emotion that's gushing by the flow of his blood.

The taller male swallows his saliva, taking a deep breath in order to let his body circulate normally, to breathe and let his heart pump by an average speed. Oikawa hesitates on his reply, "Everything, honestly. The child, his life, or how you would take a toll of his perspective when he was a child to his teenage years by making such a vicious line between it, everything, it's perfect. Some words you wrote are mesmerizing, such as-"

"Everyone is different, and that makes them the same?"

It feels different now, because the person who wrote the book is the one saying it to him. Furthermore, the meaning of it is different depending on who's saying it.

He feels a certain bond through fragments of letters printed down in a form of a book titled 'Boring'. He notices the venom laced in the last few words, he notices how her expression softened despite the hatred pressed onto her tone, everything about her actions were contradicting each other, it turmoils him, but it's amusing at the same time.

"Honestly, it's quite a common line, but I just slightly adjusted the meaning of it in the story," she lets out a soft chuckle, lips pursed into a sweet and smothering smile. He didn't know how she can say such disenchanting words and those words are covered by the glacé of her voice, leaving a sweet sensation down to his tongue.

The girl moves her attention to the plain wall behind him, walking closer towards it as she stares into nothingness, yet her deep gaze truly says otherwise. Oikawa begins talking again, "About the ending... what does it mean?"

Her shoulders drops,
so does the immense pressure placed on the air that surrounds them.