HONEY CULTURE, haikyuu

( simple art ) o. tooru

oikawa tooru

    𝖄ou lift a finger and ran it down the nape of his neck. the boy sitting in front of you flinches but slowly relaxes when his cinnamon brown eyes stills on your own. "what's the matter?" he questions you, you only shake your head with a hum, now rubbing your thumb across a certain part of his neck, your eyes steady on a wounding scar, a flaw on his flawless body.

    "where did you get this scar?" you whisper, oikawa tooru was silent for a long moment, his shoulders moving as he quickly finishes a few problems from his text book, with you fiddling ever so lightly with the tips of his brunette hair.

    "a few years back, probably when i was still in middle school. iwa-chan gave me that when i didn't listen to him, " oikawa's gentle voice fill the expanse of the room.

    "iwaizumi-kun did?"

    "he probably didn't notice it scarring over the years, but he did it because i was pushing myself a little too hard. i deserved that." his words make you chuckle, because out of all the people you've met - oikawa tooru though a charming and flirty boy - he was the type of person who worked hard, who always polishes his skills to absolute perfection; one of the reasons why you fell in love with him.

    you release your hands from him and stand from your chair, leaning to peer over his shoulder, at the papers and notes sprawled all over his desk, "which question are you answering?" your eyes scan across his notes, and for a moment you had forgotten you are only a breath away from him. from the side of your face, you could feel his lashes fluttering, his warm exhale and his lips, like fireworks ready to spark. you turn away, moving to lean away from him but oikawa's hand shot out to press it firmly on the back of your neck, making you freeze.

"oikawa?"

"oh, i-" raspberry are the colours of his cheeks, however his grip did not loosen. you watch as his lips part then close, there was a soft ripple in the air, like a tea gold streak flying and landing against oikawa's golden cookie eyes, like soft baked pieces on a sweetened morning. you purposely reach out your finger and rubbed the dusts from his soft caramel freckles and the boy you loved so dearly and sweetly speaks in a gentle volume,

"say, what is art to you?" you tilt your head and you felt oikawa fiddling with the back ends of your hair. "does calling something an art have to be beautiful or stunning?"

"well calling something an art is something that touches your heart, it's something that is both memorable and genuine, a beauty that you could feel from inside out. why is it that you can find the word art in heart oikawa?"

oikawa chuckles, "that's true," one two three seconds passed before, "then, do you call this art?"

two four, then he pushes your head, five six seven, his lips touched yours and the ground below you vanishes, your universe intertwines and he stops chasing after a shooting star to fall into your sweet little orbit. oikawa's lips were sweet like sugar, just as you expected them to be, not too sweet nor bitter but in between. there were no fireworks, no fire no electricity, but deep within you; you feel a flower growing in your heart, you feel butterflies metamorphosing in your stomach, churning in delight.

oikawa presses his lips further, lips that looked like peach-sliced fruits, the perfect shade of pumpkin and strawberry on an autumn field. a sweet noise escapes his lips, echoing deep within his throat - this was your beauty, oikawa was the art in a simple form of sweets and sugar, a little bit of cookies and brown pastries.

just you and oikawa tooru, sitting under the gold of your own universe, and that was enough for you.

end.