delude || oikawa.t x reader

|14| his intoxicating impatience

Tooru takes a gulp of the cold oolong tea inside a cafe.

The cafe they'd often visit together during the weekends. But this time, he's alone.

He regrets everything he had said yesterday.
He regrets kissing (F/n) impulsively, and letting her run away from his embrace.

Everything was out of lust, the overwhelming undeniable urge he'd kept inside. And he tainted her dainty lips with his own. Tooru's sordid needs, it was so much that he couldn't help but to pollute (F/n) with his touch. She declared that it was indeed, her first kiss. As his hands on her waist finally loosened once their lips parted, a soft whisper that informed him that he had stolen her first kiss. Everything escalated too fast for her.

Splash splash.

(F/n) jumped to the puddle of water on the edge of the road. Her (h/c) hair was wet from the rain. Tooru could only watch her and Semi interact together in the middle of the rain. It's feels excruciating to watch them, his throat felt sore, he didn't feel worthy to call her when she's so happy being with someone else (who is not him) after the disgraceful attempt of making her his lover.

He still remembers her eyes were teary the moment he takes a good look of her after the kiss. The moment her emotions were weighing her too much to be released was the moment when their lips were attached to one another.

━Everyone is different, and that makes them the same.
Ah, how long has it been since the last time he thought of that line again?

Tooru realizes how little he knows about her within her sea of thoughts that's visible to his hazelnut orbs. He was too blinded with his wish to be one with her, until he forgets to ask about the writer's condition himself. He couldn't even bear to recall her name or to think about the book anymore. He had caught her dread longer than she realizes it yet Tooru thought making her forget about the cruelty of one's existence only to remind her of her past stresses him. 

"I guess Trasykawa really does suit me,"
It's not raining, but something inside him is pouring evidently in his head as his eyes were puffy, showing how horribly he's taking this whole mess he created.

Tooru was impatient, and she wasn't ready.
Things aren't meant to be this way.

And it's all his fault.

It's caustic, how he would always fail to gain something he truly craves for.
The nationals, defeating Shiratorizawa in general, and (F/n). He doesn't even remember holding so much pride the moment his heart weakens near her.

He doesn't care how much pride he needs to hold, he's bound to keep his selfish pride at the very end no matter what. He would be in ease to beat this long-term rival of his, finally acknowledging his own strengths in peace once victory is in his grasp. Nevertheless, that pride of his was crushed painfully when he sees her delicate lips became dewy.

Tooru has never been full of loathe, especially towards himself.

He leaves the oolong tea in his cup half empty as he drags his feet back to the ground and out of the cafe. Solely relying on muscle memory as he takes a trip down memory lane. the door clicks, the hard soil he walks on, everything almost seems to be slightly in a blur recently, and he really needs something to loosen up. 

And the very next day his mistakes were slammed harder than the ball hitting the floor. There were too many mistakes happening all at once and Tooru was unable to even count it anymore. His tosses were either too low or too high, his serves weren't as accurate as usual, and doing home runs doesn't make it any better at all. He ought to punch something or to yell at someone, the desire to just pour all of his anger out and to concentrate afterwards is whispering into him. But Tooru isn't the type to do any of those things in purpose. 

There's no such thing as 'one more time' in Tooru's book.

He'll continue to practice and practice. Hit it until it breaks? Just wish that it's not his body that breaks first. Not that Tooru's knee is getting any better, or the fact that his hands are slightly trembling and his insides were so dry for him to feel the pain digging into him.

"You look like you're going to punch someone," Iwaizumi says, tossing the bottle of water to the captain in a harsh manner. Really, maybe Tooru would've punched someone if the one who said so wasn't Iwaizumi. "What's wrong?" the ace demands an answer, if it wasn't for the fact that Tooru's in a loop of melancholy, maybe he would've sputtered all of his problems, but he couldn't.

Smiling weakly, Tooru sighs through his nose. He doesn't know whether to give a honest response or to lie would even help. His decorative charms he deliberately polished wavered by his tire of distress. Iwaizumi tastes his silence like an acrid coffee that is pouring out of the glass from Tooru's irrational head. Tooru feels the world grating him into air and his knees lost track of its' usual energy yet again despite being capable of standing up. 

"I think I'm going to leave practice earlier today," Tooru mentions, putting aside the bottle of water onto the bench, refusing to drink it despite his voice that sounds rather hoarse in Iwaizumi's ears. 

The Oikawa Tooru, a volleyball maniac, leaving practice? Iwaizumi gapes by his words and struggled to piece that information into his head no matter how clear Tooru had stated it. Iwaizumi knows him better enough to see that he wanted to continue, but at the same time the internal bloody arguments Tooru is having with himself by a blink of an eye was enough to tell Iwaizumi that it's not his place to actually speak up to their captain now. Something about Tooru tells Iwaizumi that he'll solve his own problems without the ace's help anymore. 

Glad? Worry? Iwaizumi doesn't know what to feel. 
But unequivocally, he wants to trust in Tooru just for this time. Even if Tooru looks like as if he's entering a requiem.