(Obama x Oikawa) The President And The Setter

Obama x Oikawa but weirdly poetic for shits and giggles

That's when the two shades of brown finally met, and for a split second all movement stopped. The whispers that sounded like screams came to a halt. It was like he was looking in a mirror. The same brown, the same tiredness. The same eyes that had been picked up only to be thrown down and left in the warm mud and cold wind. The same eyes that were put on pedestals only to be mocked. It was hard to be a part of a world when you were so high up all they could see was you looking down. And here were eyes that mirrored the pain. Eyes on the same level, maybe if he stretched, they'd be in reach. Same brown, same pain. Similar, but so different at the same time.
And then he remembered the president of the United States was a little bitch and, holy shit, he was so pathetic he was projecting onto Barack Obama. The world unpaused, but eyes remained on him the same, cocoa staring coldly into cinnamon ORBS.