Thoughtography | IwaOi |

Chapter 1: I'm Fine

Oikawa POV:

I remember something I used to draw all the time as a kid. I can't remember every detail, and even the fact I can remember any of the basic shapes astounds me, but it's still there. It'll occasionally revisit me at night, or when I've got nothing else to think about, like a polite ghost that's just waiting for the right time to talk to me.

But the drawing itself . . . it was a boy, looking at a mirror, his reflection covered in thorny vines only leaving room for wide, trembling eyes.

I know what you're thinking, 'that's pretty dark for a child' and I totally agree. But there wasn't any meaning behind it. I wasn't suffering from anything – in fact, I had a relatively good childhood, save for a couple arguments between my parents and times when I knew they favoured my sister over me. But I just remember drawing it one time when I was bored, saying 'this looks cool' and then sketching it on every book margin I could find. No-one else saw it, though. No doubt, there'd be a long talking to from my parents, consisting of 'are you okay?' or 'you can tell us anything' and I'd just sit there, shifting in place, repeating the same thing to them over and over again.

"I'm fine," I said to my friend, rubbing my neck ashamedly. He and the rest of our class were watching me, curious. I've spaced out during class before, like everyone, but this time it took a while of prodding for me to finally snap out of it.

What was I even thinking about?

Oh right.

The drawing.

"Yo, Trashykawa," My friend shoved my shoulder. "You brain dead or something?"

"Mean, Iwa-chan," I sniffed. "Besides, I said it before. I'm

fine.

There it is again.

Those famous two words.

The ones used to remove any and all attention off one subject so you can continue whatever you were doing without being disturbed. In this case, I used it to avoid the no doubt abusive conversation about my ever present feelings, which Iwa-chan doesn't seem to have.

Not to me, at least.

I sighed, slumping in my chair, the plastic practically asking for everyone's attention one more time as it creaked beneath my weight.

The teacher was droning on about something I wasn't listening to, and it seemed to be the same with the rest of the class. I glanced out the window, hearing the rhythmic taps of rain against glass as sheets bucketed down from the sky. It seemed the clouds wanted to watch us get drenched the second we stepped outside for lunch, enjoying their place above the world where the only concern is the level of moisture in the air. Considering it was midwinter in Japan, they didn't have much to worry about.

Iwa-chan nudged me again, motioning that I listen to the teacher, to which I whispered back with, "Make me."

This had almost become my catchphrase and I said it for one reason and one reason only. To confuse the recipient.

Am I asking to fight? Am I asking to fuck? Who knows? They certainly don't, considering more than half are lost for words at that point.

Whatever they say next could decide their fate. Respond with "Oh I will" and I'll start undressing, but respond with "I will end you" and I'll still start undressing because that's the type of person I am.

Iwa-chan glared daggers into my skin after I said those two fateful words, to which I simply smiled back. Eventually he gave up, refocusing his attention back on the teacher, but not before muttering "Fucking Bitchykawa."

Ah, it seemed his vocabulary was growing.

Good for him.

Now I was not only restricted to Shittykawa, Trashykawa, Assikawa, Crappykawa, Kusokawa, Lazykawa, Loserkawa, and dumbass, but now 'Bitchykawa'. Not the most creative, but I'll give him points for making something new.

Rain continued to pelt the window beside me, the rolling clouds outside looking heavy and dark. I would've enjoyed it, if not for the fact that I'd have to walk in it in a couple minutes. At least the gym would be dry. A few students were already out, sprinting at full tilt to the bathrooms, some holding jackets over their heads, others just letting their hair get soaked. I stifled a snicker as I watched a first year slip in a puddle, murky water splashing up around them. They sat in the mud for a couple seconds before actually standing up, as if deliberating whether or not to let people see their stained clothes and their (undoubtedly) stained ego.

It shouldn't have been as entertaining to me as it was.

With a discontented sigh, I traced lines in the fogged up glass, caused by the competing temperature of the glass and the rest of the classroom. I managed a small heart shape before Iwa-chan elbowed me. "Listen," He hissed.

I rolled my eyes, managing to zone back in to what the teacher was saying (incredible, I know). "Now," he said monotonously, speaking in short sharp sentences. "Considering the weather outside, you'll be eating your lunch in class. This makes it easier for everyone. You don't want to be drenched for your next lesson."

Groans echoed throughout the classroom as everyone said an emotional goodbye to the chance of having time without teacher supervision.

"But that means I can't do practice!" I slid further down into my seat. "And I even managed to get the teachers to let me use the gym at lunch!"

"Quit it with the whining," Iwa-chan glared at me. "We had practice this morning, what else do you need?"

"You to stop being a bitch," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!"

My stomach ached after I forgot to eat my lunch, but I pushed away the feeling, distracting myself with something new. I glanced down at my wrist.

It was bare, just like whenever I checked it. Seems my soulmate doesn't have much on their mind.

At all.

Ever.

Why don't they ever think about anything?!

(A/N: oh boy, this is my first published story, so don't expect much. I possibly won't finish it, but hopefully I can figure out some sort of plotline and ending. Welp. Don't get attached.

- OverhaulHatesCorona)