Infectious || IwaOi

1.

^credits to  the respectful artist, PLEASE DON'T KILL ME OH ASAHI-

Tooru Oikawa, a twenty three year old male was in his room one autumn evening, he gazed out the window and saw the scenic view of the warm but dead leaves drift ever so slowly down, down three stories, his glasses had slid down and he pushed them up, his laptop opened up in front of him.

He was currently editing the story line for a scene his friend had sent him before publishing it. Oikawa was a manga artist and an editor, although no one a few years ago would've been able to predict his career choices.

In all honesty, he was very much confused, he had the potential to carry on volleyball, or he could take over his dad's business, or he could've pursued his little passion in art and majored in fine arts by squeezing what little effort he could muster up. But he also wanted to nurture more on the course he was focused on since he was a kid; become an idol.

He had often scoffed at that idea, it was childish, big and challenging, but something about the exhilaration of standing on a huge stage with the thousand lights shining on you, the sweat, the crowds, the beauty - he wanted it all. Truly, he had the looks and the charisma, but he had his mental health to consider; it was pretty much rotten.

So, taking risk into his hands, he became one of all of the above. He worked as a volleyball instructor in a high school a few clicks away from his apartment and he would even spend a few weeks away on training camps that pay him quite well. Other than his sporty job, he - along with a high school acquaintance of his - became a manga artist and uploaded a manga online, it didn't pay too much directly.

But damn, the fanbase was big enough to pull in the bills, he loved his fans and would do anything for them, in a way, writing about the characters was a way for him to unwind. But the one thing that took the most of his time was his work at the company; he was in the financial divisions, and even recently, his dad had asked him to move up the hierarchy to become the new chief of financial operations; a position that came with power and just as much as stress.

An idol doesn't do well with that amount of stress.

He politely turned down the offer and continued to be an employee of the original kind despite his dad being one of the board members. His dad was not humiliated by his son's choice of work and position.

The title of CEO, one that Oikawa Tooru was entitled to having - not because of his dad - but because of his ability to manage and work the project the business was given; to use his mystique to make things happen.

But the position fell on a much more potential individual, a twenty four year old male with the aura of a tiger, his dark personality staining his hair and his eyes, devoid of any life. It was all in his eyes; business, business, business...

Interesting imagery.... He doodled the man in his thoughts just when his phone rang. The ID ended with a blue heart and he knew who it was.

"Keiji-chan. Hi."

"Oikawa-san, how are you doing?"

The male on the other end sounded as exhausted as his own eye bags could tell. Akaashi Keiji, writer of the manga series A Voice in the Dust; it was a sequel to his first series, one he uploaded when he was sixteen. The manga had equal portions of romance and mystery; Oikawa couldn't help but admire Keiji's talent.

"I'm good," he said around a yawn that pulled at his bones, "I'm just a bit tired."

"Oh yea, you stayed up all night planning the new regimen for the new volleyball club trainees, right?"

"Yea, but it was worth it."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't pressure you too much-"

"No it's fine," Oikawa rubbed his eyes and glanced at the four mugs by his bed; he had nearly six cups of coffee, "I love doing this, besides, I'm almost done."

The two talked about what direction their new story would go, the main character was just introduced to a new character who Keiji had planned on killing towards the end of the series.

"You really are ruthless aren't you." Oikawa had said.

"Oh come one," Keiji'd said with a chuckle, "I love tormenting my readers."

They then discussed the types of fanmail they got and debated on whether they should film it, you know, 'cause why not?

Somehow the topic ended with the sky inking into a deep purple and black and the subject of the conversation an indulged concept of having soulmates.

"Well, for the least, I can say that your soulmate is perfectly set for you."

"What?"

"Bokuto, the owl head who loves you to  death and will do anything for you."

He smirked as he heard the other one stutter, clearly flustered. Oikawa removed his glasses and leaned back on his bed, flexing and relaxing his muscles and rubbing against the thick sheets under his bed. His shirt rode up a bit to reveal his toned muscle; he had been working out hard the past few weeks.

His eyes were fixated on the ceiling, his hands twirling his glasses.

"W-what are you talking about? He's not my soulmate, we're just together..."

"C'mon," Oikawa purred, "You went to watch his match and you were struck with an arrow of love." He slurred the last word.

"I wasn't struck-"

"Right, more like obliterated."

The other spluttered and tried to reason. The next twenty minutes were present with Oikawa gloating about Bokuto Koutarou; a volleyball star, and his muscles, convincing Keiji that he should take on him on more dates than spend time drawing.

Also about the fact that he would give the best of hugs.

The topic somehow shifted to Oikawa's love life.

"You know I don't have anyone."

"Yes but it doesn't have to be that way forever."

Oikawa sighed, no matter how much he fantasised and wrote about his "would be '' love life, his spirit knew that he would never meet "the one". He had given up on that a long time ago.

"Akaashi," he said, dragging his legs to the bathroom, "I'm never gonna fall in love."

------

So, how was it?

I know I spent a lot of time on unnecessary details but hey, description is keyyy.

💖💖💖