Infectious || IwaOi

8.

le OOF

btw ^Natsuki Kizu-san is one of the BEST artists ever. Change my mind. YA CAN'T-

also, u can decipher that image as whatever ya want it to be. ( ͡• ͜ʖ ͡• )

Dammit.

That guy is a literal magnet.

A chick-magnet.

He absolutely detested the fact that such a small, insignificant thing provoked a huge effect in him.

Iwaizumi pinched the bridge of his nose; a headache was brewing.

The young chief woke up that day with - no surprise - a killer migraine and a heavy body. He'd made himself breakfast and dashed to his office at seven; there was a lot to do.

And yet, with the stacks of papers around him and the constant reminders blaring at him, he couldn't find peace, his dumb brain kept going back to the same events that took place the previous night - the drinking, the talking, the laughing, the walking, the crying-

He realised his foot kept bouncing and only after forcefully relaxing himself did he realise just how tense he was.

I need to talk to him...

I'm not gonna do anything, I just wanna speak.

Yeah, that was exactly what he was gonna do, what he had planned.

So then why, why for the love of everything good, did the sight of seeing him smile and talk with another person make his blood boil?

Was it because he was fully aware that that smile was fake?

Or was it the fact that he wasn't the one making him smile?

No, no no no, that's dumb, that's-

Ah, there it was, that heart stopping smile of his. Iwaizumi swallowed.

Even though the lobby was filled with so many people, Oikawa was the only one who he could see, it was as if his eyes were stubbornly trained on him.

"Oikawa."

His voice came out slightly breathless, wavering. Dammit.

Oikawa's head snapped back and his eyes met with Iwaizumi, who's walking slowed down significantly.

He hated the fact that Oikawa's grin grew. Oh, how he longed to flick that forehead of him.

Snap out of it, you wanna talk Iwa-chan; go and talk.

He called again, but this time, Oikawa's expression fell. He asked him to come to his office and he complied, ignoring whatever the girl had planned for him.

His satisfaction led him to walk faster out of that place.

The sky was pristine outside the glass windows of Iwaizumi's windows, little soft puffs of clouds littered and he felt happy looking at them.

His hands never left his pocket, he glanced at the papers on his desk and a wave of displeasure washed over him.

A few feet away stood Oikawa, looking like a nervous wreck, his hands were in front and fumbling, the tips rubbing unevenly.

A continuous movement of matching his thumb to his index finger on the other hand and vice versa, entranced Iwaizumi, he fully knew that that switching of fingers was hardcore coordination and he hated that he felt like he was lulled into his... spell or something.