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Description

What he had intended to be a cutesy fling, a passing breeze, became so much more as he fell in love with all of your mannerisms. He eyed your foot as it dangled your shoe by the toe, bouncing it in the air as you idly waited for the teacher to arrive in the classroom. Meanwhile, you were busy jotting down your schedule for the day. He was entranced with every loop of your o's and the dots of your i's, he'd even hide a chuckle as you sighed and flipped your pencil to erase a mistake.

    Sometimes he'd be charming a group of fangirls as they walked him out to lunch and he'd spot you speeding past him, arms filled with a pile of bright blue manila folders. He'd offered to help you a few times, but you seemed to ignore him, too preoccupied with putting one foot in front of the other. He was left, eyes shining with intrigue as he watched your retreating figure, your plaid skirt furiously swishing side to side.

    Hell, every time he tried to pin you down you were busy with something. Always making a polite excuse and brushing past him with a half-smile and a bead of sweat sliding down your brow.

    "Sorry, there's a student council meeting right now."

    "I wish I could, but I'm tutoring someone today."

    "Maybe next time, I'm meeting with my counselor."

    He would hide his annoyance with a thin-lipped smile and sent you on your way with words of good luck. Once you were out of sight his cheery facade would drop and he would run his hands through his hair, exasperated. What would he have to do you get you to stand still?!

    "Just give up, Tooru," Iwaizumi commented, bending over to retie his sneakers. "It's not like a girl hasn't rejected you before."

    "I knew you were too simple-minded to understand, Iwa-chan," Oikawa replied, wiping the sweat off his nose with the hem of his jersey.

    "Insult me again, and I'll use my foot to wipe off that stupid grin off your face," Iwaizumi growled.

    "I'm just saying that I want to get to know her a little bit," Oikawa continues, oblivious to his friend's threat. "She always on the move and busy with...," he waves his hands in the air, gesticulating circles towards the ceiling "...gee, I don't know, everything! I want to be the one that she'll drop everything to be with."

    Iwaizumi groans and lightly kicks Oikawa's calf. "Yeah, yeah, you're irresistible, we get it."

    Oikawa smirks. "See, was it that hard to admit?"

    "Oh for the fuck's sake—" The setter barely misses Iwaizumi's chokehold as he ducks and steps out of the ace's way.

    "I've gotten this far with her, why should I stop now?"

    "You know she's not a trophy to be won, right?" Iwaizumi grumpily points out, his buff arms crossed.

    "I know that," Oikawa bluffs, avoiding eye contact with his friend as he makes his way to the locker room exit.

    "I'm just saying, maybe there's a reason she's blowing off your pathetic flirting," Iwaizumi doesn't let the topic drop, and Oikawa refrains from rolling his eyes—he didn't want to earn another hit to the head. "Her life is just as complicated as yours."

    "Okay, mom, I'll think about what you said," but in reality, Oikawa had already pushed the chastisement into the back of his mind.

    "Get over here you annoying son of a—"

    Oikawa was already pushing past the locker room doors, a safe distance away from Iwaizumi's angry fists.

/ | \

    Your arms are sore from carrying boxes down to restock the nurse's medical supplies. She had thanked you profusely, glad that you were able to finally convince the principal to take some money out of the budget to take care of the safety and the wellness of the students. You were all smiles and small talk as you supervised the rest of the council members haul in their boxes, but once you were out of sight, your expression dropped to one of heavy fatigue.

    You rubbed feeling into your forearms and rolled your shoulders as you approached your shoe locker. Finally, it was the end of a long day, and you'd be able to go home and relax. But Oikawa had another plan in mind.

    Just as you swing your locker closed, you hear hurried footsteps and someone repeatedly calling your name. You barely had time to slip on your shoes as Oikawa came bounding down the rows of lockers to meet you. He's panting slightly, and he runs a hand through his disheveled hair as he leisurely walks the remaining few feet to stand next to you.

    "___________-chan! I didn't think I would make it in time to meet you!"

"Good afternoon, Oikawa-kun," you reply. Oikawa's slightly offended that you don't lift your head up from tightening your laces to greet him. "I thought you had volleyball practice?" But his mood perks up when you inquire about his hobbies, he's glad that you had the time in your schedule to study up on him.

    "Oh, how did you know?" he asks coyly; he's left an impression on you after all.

    You shrug your shoulders. "It's kind of hard to miss when all the girls are talking about watching your practices every day."

    That's right. His name was a favorite amongst the female population of the school. The only way you'd miss that detail would be if you were deaf.

    "Yeah, it's kind of annoying hearing them say it all the time," you sigh, exasperated.

    Oikawa resists the urge to scoff. Him? Annoying? Never! The corner of his mouth twitches and he's about to bid you a hasty goodbye, offended at your remark when he sees your shoulders jittering up and down. What? You're actually laughing at him! Unheard of!

    "You should see the look on your face," you manage to make out between chuckles. You're now standing straight up, your arms wrapped around your stomach as you try to control your breathing amidst your giggles. "For a second I thought steam was going to burst out of your ears!"

    All of his negative thoughts about you disappear as he's drawn in by your laughter. It's the sound of wind through chimes. It's all things delightful and lovely combined into one glorious sound. But then he hears you snort. You're quick to cover your mouth with the blade of your hand. An embarrassed blush creeps up your cheeks, and he thinks you look cute as he chokes back his laugh.

    "Did you just snort?" Your face becomes red, your hands curling into fists as you cross your arms defiantly. You're cute when you're mad, he thinks to himself.

    "I don't do it all the time, okay!" You defend yourself, but the slight pout that you're pulling only makes the situation worse as he lets it all out. "Hey, quit laughing at me!"

    "I should have said the same to you when you were laughing at me!" he recalls, raising his arms to defend himself from your half-serious-half-joking punches to his gut. He manages to catch your fists mid-swing, wrapping his long slender fingers around your wrists. He cracks a grin, you roll your eyes, but a smile is playing on your lips. "I suppose we're even now."

    You slip your hands out of his grasp. "I hope so," you begin, already gathering your things. "If you had kept laughing I might not have invited you to walk me home." His eyes go wide. He gapes at your nerve, but he finds it alluring at the same time.

    "Is that offer still on the table?" his voice teasing, but he's already following you out the door.

    "I guess I don't have a choice now," you respond, gently elbowing his exposed side.

    "No, I suppose not." He can barely hide his smirk.

    He learns more about your busy schedule, his eyes going bright as he begins to learn more about you. Student council, honors classes, tutoring, teachers assistant...the list goes on and on. And by the end of the walk, if he was interested in you before, now he was completely fascinated.

    "How do you do all that in one day?" he asks, genuinely wondering if there were enough hours of sunlight to get all that done.

    "By the skin of my teeth," you remark wittingly. You let out a chuckle as you slow your steps to stop at the front gate of your house. Oikawa follows suit and leans his shoulder against the post.

    He lets out a low whistle, impressed. "Nice house."

    "Thank you," You smile, graciously accepting his compliment. But he sees a shade cross over your eyes and your smile drops the littlest bit. You recover in the fraction of the time it took for the shadow to pass over your face, back to your full cute smile. He doesn't comment, saving that question for another occasion.

    You rock from your heels to your toes, drawing out the seconds before you had to leave him. Without a doubt he notices, and he shares your hesitation; he didn't want this time with you to end either. He cocks his head to the side as he rests his eyes on you, nothing analytical behind his gaze as he watches you rub the strap of your bag raw. Another little habit that he files away about you.

    Then you finally break the silence and take it upon yourself to say goodbye. "Well, thank you for walking me home."

    "Thank you for inviting me."

    He watches you as you enter the gate, walk the granite pathway to your porch, open your door. You turn around to give him one last wave before you disappear into the confines of your house. And he thinks to himself that if this were the only time you can donate to him, he would take advantage of every single second. He's smirking as he throws his bag behind one shoulder and slips his free hand into his pocket. He walks home with you dancing in his mind.

/ | \

    One walk turns into two, and two into three, and soon, these walks become a relaxing ritual. At some point, his pinkie brushes yours, and you acknowledge it as an accident. Then it happens more times than you can count and you finally confront him about it. He's cheeky, avoiding answering the question, so you give up...but then he does it again, and you want his teasing to end, so you end up just grabbing his hand.

    He stares at you incredulously, and his arm goes stiff, refusing its natural movement of swinging back and forth. You notice, and your face warms up at your embarrassment. Maybe you had been too forward? Perhaps this was going too fast? Would he take this the wrong way? What if he didn't reciprocate your growing feelings? Did he hate you—

    You try to draw back your hand, but his hold is firm as he relaxes and sends a squeeze through your palm. He acts like its nothing, nonchalance flowing out of every swing of your intertwined hands. And your insecurities are relieved as he experimentally spins you around once as he hears music playing on the radio from a passing porch. You're laughing again, and he finds himself entranced with how the corner of your eyes crinkle with every smile.


    You're both seated on a bench, a block away from the store where he stopped to buy a loaf of milk bread. He was shocked to hear you never tried the delicacy before, he teased you about it all the way to the park and finally handed you a slice as you rested on the bench. His excitement plummeted when you made a sour face as you took your first bite. How could you not like this gift from the heavens? But then you started laughing again, and he realized you were joking.

    "Got you again!" you smiled, victorious.

    "I should have known!" he whines. "No one can say no to the delicious taste of milk bread."

    "I'm sure those people exist," you remind him. "There are billions of people in the world; there must be somebody who hates it."

    He scoffs, offended. "How dare you? It's the most delicious thing in the whole world! Maybe even the galaxy!"

    He sees you hiding your laughter as you take another bite and you find yourself somewhat agreeing with him. It was damn tasty.

    He looks away from you for a moment, lost in his thoughts. "You know, you're really different when you're at school and when you're not," he points out, gesturing at you with his milk bread. He takes another bite and chews thoughtfully. Now that you were getting to know him, you no longer ignored him when you passed in the halls—arms still full with...something, of course you didn't put your numerous activities on halt just because you were his friend, maybe something more. The first time you said a rushed "Hello Oikawa-kun" he was caught off guard and the best he could sputter was a "H-hey __________-chan!" He earned jealous glares from his current entourage of fangirls but he shrugged his shoulders and continued walking. You were opening up to him and he didn't want you to stop.

You swallow a lump of milk bread and wipe away a stray crumb from the corner of your mouth. "Most people are that way," you say. "Are you telling me that you act the same way with your fangirls as you do with Iwaizumi?"

He almost chokes on the bite of bread in his mouth. When he clears his throat you're laughing at him, he sends a light kick to your ankle that you roll your eyes at. "Of course not!" he defends himself. "I'm sure that if I tried flirting with Iwa-chan he would punch me in the nose! And I have to protect this little guy, a lot of people love him."

"And there it is!" You say matter-of-factly. You wave your milk bread in the air as you gesticulate along with your words. "Everyone has different sides to them, I'm sure you must have noticed. You don't treat your classmates the same way you treat your closest friends. You change with every circumstance and every situation, and that's a beautiful thing, don't you agree?"

He admires your insight. Of all the teams he's analyzed, he never truly took into account that they were actually people, too. With fears and core memories. There must have multiple lives besides volleyball practices and tournaments. He'd hate to imagine what Kageyama did besides volleyball, that kid was obsessed, what else did he have time for? A grim expression crossed over his visage and you noticed.

You shouldered him lightly and he bumped out of his mood. You didn't question it. If he wanted to talk about it he would, and that was one of the things he enjoyed about you, you never pushed him. You were always there to listen. You knew when he wanted a response or just someone for him to vent to. It was...nice...not having expectations piled onto him. With you he could finally relax and be himself.

You finally became bashful, staring at the layers and pores of the milk bread loaf in your hand. "Speaking of flirting..." you trail off. He perks up and focuses his full attention on you. Your feet are shuffling against each other and your fingers are absentmindedly tearing at the crust of the bread. Had it not been you he would have grabbed your arms and yelled at you to not desecrate his favorite treat. "If you're so flirtatious with all the girls at school..."

"Yes..." he eggs you on, voice coquettish as he scoots closer to you. You're shoulder to shoulder now, and neither of you are moving away. From that single touch he can feel you the rise and fall of your shallow breaths and the warmth of your skin from beneath your sweater. His close proximity to you only makes you even more nervous.

"Why don't you flirt with me like you do with them?" you ask, your voice quiet.

His eyebrows rise at the thought that you wanted him to flirt with you. He guesses that, maybe, his small stolen touches, brushed fingers, and held hands are no longer satisfactory. He finds himself disappointed; he notices everything about you, your tiny habits, the shifts in your personality, but he was oblivious to your desire for...more.

He clears his throat and you see his Adam’s apple bob up and down with the swallow. "Do you want me to flirt with you more?" he asks. He brings a hand to where yours is resting behind you, propping you up. Your breath hitches as he drags a slow thumbnail across the inside of your wrist. This is definitely more sensual that his previous touches.

You put on a confident bravado and draw your hand into your lap. He watches you from hooded eyes and you wring your fingers against the hem of your skirt. The milk bread falls out of your lap, you let out a tiny gasp and look to him for his response. He ignores the loaf, his eyes fully trained on yours. Now it’s your turn to gulp. "But maybe I don't want to endure your lame pick-up lines." You knew you were delaying the inevitable, he still got even closer.

"I at least want to know if they'll work on you or not," he barely whispers. He's smirking again as he closes the distance between your lips, centimeter by centimeter. You find yourself back away the slightest bit. You catch a glimpse of the faint freckles ghosting his cheekbones and the slender arch of his eyebrows before everything goes out of focus as your noses touch.

Then finally, his lips meet yours and he steals the words out of your mouth. You sigh into him, your shoulders relaxing as you bring an arm to wrap around his neck. He slips his hand behind your waist and caresses the small of your back, pushing you closer to him. He nibbles at your bottom lip and traces at the corner of your mouth with the tip of his tongue. You taste like milk-bread and chap stick, not a terrible combination, and he feels a hum building at the back of his throat as you tug at the curls at the nape of his neck. You open your mouth the tiniest bit and his tongue is eager to be released, he's quick to glide it against your front teeth and he's about to go deeper—

But then you pull away, leaving him breathless and he groans with desire as he watches a coy smile creep onto your lips—the lips he just kissed. They glisten with his saliva and he wants to lean in to capture your mouth again, but then you push at his chest with your free hand and you lean back a fraction of an inch.

He lets out a low whine that elicits a chuckle from you.

"You don't have to be such a tease," he grins, pulling you almost into his lap. "Usually I'm the one that leaves people wanting."

"No wonder why Iwaizumi wants to punch you all the time," you say. "That unbridled arrogance is so obnoxious."

"Hey! I never hear you complaining about it," he groans, his ego deflated as he rests his head on your shoulder.

"That's because I know when to keep thoughts to myself," you stick your tongue out at him and he pinches your side, causing you to yelp.

"Yeah, yeah, let's get you home Miss I'm-in-control-of-my-thoughts." he says, pulling you up from your seat and wrapping his hand around yours. He happily swings it back and forth the entire walk to your house.

Description

What he had intended to be a cutesy fling, a passing breeze, became so much more as he fell in love with all of your mannerisms. He eyed your foot as it dangled your shoe by the toe, bouncing it in the air as you idly waited for the teacher to arrive in the classroom. Meanwhile, you were busy jotting down your schedule for the day. He was entranced with every loop of your o's and the dots of your i's, he'd even hide a chuckle as you sighed and flipped your pencil to erase a mistake.

    Sometimes he'd be charming a group of fangirls as they walked him out to lunch and he'd spot you speeding past him, arms filled with a pile of bright blue manila folders. He'd offered to help you a few times, but you seemed to ignore him, too preoccupied with putting one foot in front of the other. He was left, eyes shining with intrigue as he watched your retreating figure, your plaid skirt furiously swishing side to side.

    Hell, every time he tried to pin you down you were busy with something. Always making a polite excuse and brushing past him with a half-smile and a bead of sweat sliding down your brow.

    "Sorry, there's a student council meeting right now."

    "I wish I could, but I'm tutoring someone today."

    "Maybe next time, I'm meeting with my counselor."

    He would hide his annoyance with a thin-lipped smile and sent you on your way with words of good luck. Once you were out of sight his cheery facade would drop and he would run his hands through his hair, exasperated. What would he have to do you get you to stand still?!

    "Just give up, Tooru," Iwaizumi commented, bending over to retie his sneakers. "It's not like a girl hasn't rejected you before."

    "I knew you were too simple-minded to understand, Iwa-chan," Oikawa replied, wiping the sweat off his nose with the hem of his jersey.

    "Insult me again, and I'll use my foot to wipe off that stupid grin off your face," Iwaizumi growled.

    "I'm just saying that I want to get to know her a little bit," Oikawa continues, oblivious to his friend's threat. "She always on the move and busy with...," he waves his hands in the air, gesticulating circles towards the ceiling "...gee, I don't know, everything! I want to be the one that she'll drop everything to be with."

    Iwaizumi groans and lightly kicks Oikawa's calf. "Yeah, yeah, you're irresistible, we get it."

    Oikawa smirks. "See, was it that hard to admit?"

    "Oh for the fuck's sake—" The setter barely misses Iwaizumi's chokehold as he ducks and steps out of the ace's way.

    "I've gotten this far with her, why should I stop now?"

    "You know she's not a trophy to be won, right?" Iwaizumi grumpily points out, his buff arms crossed.

    "I know that," Oikawa bluffs, avoiding eye contact with his friend as he makes his way to the locker room exit.

    "I'm just saying, maybe there's a reason she's blowing off your pathetic flirting," Iwaizumi doesn't let the topic drop, and Oikawa refrains from rolling his eyes—he didn't want to earn another hit to the head. "Her life is just as complicated as yours."

    "Okay, mom, I'll think about what you said," but in reality, Oikawa had already pushed the chastisement into the back of his mind.

    "Get over here you annoying son of a—"

    Oikawa was already pushing past the locker room doors, a safe distance away from Iwaizumi's angry fists.

/ | \

    Your arms are sore from carrying boxes down to restock the nurse's medical supplies. She had thanked you profusely, glad that you were able to finally convince the principal to take some money out of the budget to take care of the safety and the wellness of the students. You were all smiles and small talk as you supervised the rest of the council members haul in their boxes, but once you were out of sight, your expression dropped to one of heavy fatigue.

    You rubbed feeling into your forearms and rolled your shoulders as you approached your shoe locker. Finally, it was the end of a long day, and you'd be able to go home and relax. But Oikawa had another plan in mind.

    Just as you swing your locker closed, you hear hurried footsteps and someone repeatedly calling your name. You barely had time to slip on your shoes as Oikawa came bounding down the rows of lockers to meet you. He's panting slightly, and he runs a hand through his disheveled hair as he leisurely walks the remaining few feet to stand next to you.

    "___________-chan! I didn't think I would make it in time to meet you!"

"Good afternoon, Oikawa-kun," you reply. Oikawa's slightly offended that you don't lift your head up from tightening your laces to greet him. "I thought you had volleyball practice?" But his mood perks up when you inquire about his hobbies, he's glad that you had the time in your schedule to study up on him.

    "Oh, how did you know?" he asks coyly; he's left an impression on you after all.

    You shrug your shoulders. "It's kind of hard to miss when all the girls are talking about watching your practices every day."

    That's right. His name was a favorite amongst the female population of the school. The only way you'd miss that detail would be if you were deaf.

    "Yeah, it's kind of annoying hearing them say it all the time," you sigh, exasperated.

    Oikawa resists the urge to scoff. Him? Annoying? Never! The corner of his mouth twitches and he's about to bid you a hasty goodbye, offended at your remark when he sees your shoulders jittering up and down. What? You're actually laughing at him! Unheard of!

    "You should see the look on your face," you manage to make out between chuckles. You're now standing straight up, your arms wrapped around your stomach as you try to control your breathing amidst your giggles. "For a second I thought steam was going to burst out of your ears!"

    All of his negative thoughts about you disappear as he's drawn in by your laughter. It's the sound of wind through chimes. It's all things delightful and lovely combined into one glorious sound. But then he hears you snort. You're quick to cover your mouth with the blade of your hand. An embarrassed blush creeps up your cheeks, and he thinks you look cute as he chokes back his laugh.

    "Did you just snort?" Your face becomes red, your hands curling into fists as you cross your arms defiantly. You're cute when you're mad, he thinks to himself.

    "I don't do it all the time, okay!" You defend yourself, but the slight pout that you're pulling only makes the situation worse as he lets it all out. "Hey, quit laughing at me!"

    "I should have said the same to you when you were laughing at me!" he recalls, raising his arms to defend himself from your half-serious-half-joking punches to his gut. He manages to catch your fists mid-swing, wrapping his long slender fingers around your wrists. He cracks a grin, you roll your eyes, but a smile is playing on your lips. "I suppose we're even now."

    You slip your hands out of his grasp. "I hope so," you begin, already gathering your things. "If you had kept laughing I might not have invited you to walk me home." His eyes go wide. He gapes at your nerve, but he finds it alluring at the same time.

    "Is that offer still on the table?" his voice teasing, but he's already following you out the door.

    "I guess I don't have a choice now," you respond, gently elbowing his exposed side.

    "No, I suppose not." He can barely hide his smirk.

    He learns more about your busy schedule, his eyes going bright as he begins to learn more about you. Student council, honors classes, tutoring, teachers assistant...the list goes on and on. And by the end of the walk, if he was interested in you before, now he was completely fascinated.

    "How do you do all that in one day?" he asks, genuinely wondering if there were enough hours of sunlight to get all that done.

    "By the skin of my teeth," you remark wittingly. You let out a chuckle as you slow your steps to stop at the front gate of your house. Oikawa follows suit and leans his shoulder against the post.

    He lets out a low whistle, impressed. "Nice house."

    "Thank you," You smile, graciously accepting his compliment. But he sees a shade cross over your eyes and your smile drops the littlest bit. You recover in the fraction of the time it took for the shadow to pass over your face, back to your full cute smile. He doesn't comment, saving that question for another occasion.

    You rock from your heels to your toes, drawing out the seconds before you had to leave him. Without a doubt he notices, and he shares your hesitation; he didn't want this time with you to end either. He cocks his head to the side as he rests his eyes on you, nothing analytical behind his gaze as he watches you rub the strap of your bag raw. Another little habit that he files away about you.

    Then you finally break the silence and take it upon yourself to say goodbye. "Well, thank you for walking me home."

    "Thank you for inviting me."

    He watches you as you enter the gate, walk the granite pathway to your porch, open your door. You turn around to give him one last wave before you disappear into the confines of your house. And he thinks to himself that if this were the only time you can donate to him, he would take advantage of every single second. He's smirking as he throws his bag behind one shoulder and slips his free hand into his pocket. He walks home with you dancing in his mind.

/ | \

    One walk turns into two, and two into three, and soon, these walks become a relaxing ritual. At some point, his pinkie brushes yours, and you acknowledge it as an accident. Then it happens more times than you can count and you finally confront him about it. He's cheeky, avoiding answering the question, so you give up...but then he does it again, and you want his teasing to end, so you end up just grabbing his hand.

    He stares at you incredulously, and his arm goes stiff, refusing its natural movement of swinging back and forth. You notice, and your face warms up at your embarrassment. Maybe you had been too forward? Perhaps this was going too fast? Would he take this the wrong way? What if he didn't reciprocate your growing feelings? Did he hate you—

    You try to draw back your hand, but his hold is firm as he relaxes and sends a squeeze through your palm. He acts like its nothing, nonchalance flowing out of every swing of your intertwined hands. And your insecurities are relieved as he experimentally spins you around once as he hears music playing on the radio from a passing porch. You're laughing again, and he finds himself entranced with how the corner of your eyes crinkle with every smile.


    You're both seated on a bench, a block away from the store where he stopped to buy a loaf of milk bread. He was shocked to hear you never tried the delicacy before, he teased you about it all the way to the park and finally handed you a slice as you rested on the bench. His excitement plummeted when you made a sour face as you took your first bite. How could you not like this gift from the heavens? But then you started laughing again, and he realized you were joking.

    "Got you again!" you smiled, victorious.

    "I should have known!" he whines. "No one can say no to the delicious taste of milk bread."

    "I'm sure those people exist," you remind him. "There are billions of people in the world; there must be somebody who hates it."

    He scoffs, offended. "How dare you? It's the most delicious thing in the whole world! Maybe even the galaxy!"

    He sees you hiding your laughter as you take another bite and you find yourself somewhat agreeing with him. It was damn tasty.

    He looks away from you for a moment, lost in his thoughts. "You know, you're really different when you're at school and when you're not," he points out, gesturing at you with his milk bread. He takes another bite and chews thoughtfully. Now that you were getting to know him, you no longer ignored him when you passed in the halls—arms still full with...something, of course you didn't put your numerous activities on halt just because you were his friend, maybe something more. The first time you said a rushed "Hello Oikawa-kun" he was caught off guard and the best he could sputter was a "H-hey __________-chan!" He earned jealous glares from his current entourage of fangirls but he shrugged his shoulders and continued walking. You were opening up to him and he didn't want you to stop.

You swallow a lump of milk bread and wipe away a stray crumb from the corner of your mouth. "Most people are that way," you say. "Are you telling me that you act the same way with your fangirls as you do with Iwaizumi?"

He almost chokes on the bite of bread in his mouth. When he clears his throat you're laughing at him, he sends a light kick to your ankle that you roll your eyes at. "Of course not!" he defends himself. "I'm sure that if I tried flirting with Iwa-chan he would punch me in the nose! And I have to protect this little guy, a lot of people love him."

"And there it is!" You say matter-of-factly. You wave your milk bread in the air as you gesticulate along with your words. "Everyone has different sides to them, I'm sure you must have noticed. You don't treat your classmates the same way you treat your closest friends. You change with every circumstance and every situation, and that's a beautiful thing, don't you agree?"

He admires your insight. Of all the teams he's analyzed, he never truly took into account that they were actually people, too. With fears and core memories. There must have multiple lives besides volleyball practices and tournaments. He'd hate to imagine what Kageyama did besides volleyball, that kid was obsessed, what else did he have time for? A grim expression crossed over his visage and you noticed.

You shouldered him lightly and he bumped out of his mood. You didn't question it. If he wanted to talk about it he would, and that was one of the things he enjoyed about you, you never pushed him. You were always there to listen. You knew when he wanted a response or just someone for him to vent to. It was...nice...not having expectations piled onto him. With you he could finally relax and be himself.

You finally became bashful, staring at the layers and pores of the milk bread loaf in your hand. "Speaking of flirting..." you trail off. He perks up and focuses his full attention on you. Your feet are shuffling against each other and your fingers are absentmindedly tearing at the crust of the bread. Had it not been you he would have grabbed your arms and yelled at you to not desecrate his favorite treat. "If you're so flirtatious with all the girls at school..."

"Yes..." he eggs you on, voice coquettish as he scoots closer to you. You're shoulder to shoulder now, and neither of you are moving away. From that single touch he can feel you the rise and fall of your shallow breaths and the warmth of your skin from beneath your sweater. His close proximity to you only makes you even more nervous.

"Why don't you flirt with me like you do with them?" you ask, your voice quiet.

His eyebrows rise at the thought that you wanted him to flirt with you. He guesses that, maybe, his small stolen touches, brushed fingers, and held hands are no longer satisfactory. He finds himself disappointed; he notices everything about you, your tiny habits, the shifts in your personality, but he was oblivious to your desire for...more.

He clears his throat and you see his Adam’s apple bob up and down with the swallow. "Do you want me to flirt with you more?" he asks. He brings a hand to where yours is resting behind you, propping you up. Your breath hitches as he drags a slow thumbnail across the inside of your wrist. This is definitely more sensual that his previous touches.

You put on a confident bravado and draw your hand into your lap. He watches you from hooded eyes and you wring your fingers against the hem of your skirt. The milk bread falls out of your lap, you let out a tiny gasp and look to him for his response. He ignores the loaf, his eyes fully trained on yours. Now it’s your turn to gulp. "But maybe I don't want to endure your lame pick-up lines." You knew you were delaying the inevitable, he still got even closer.

"I at least want to know if they'll work on you or not," he barely whispers. He's smirking again as he closes the distance between your lips, centimeter by centimeter. You find yourself back away the slightest bit. You catch a glimpse of the faint freckles ghosting his cheekbones and the slender arch of his eyebrows before everything goes out of focus as your noses touch.

Then finally, his lips meet yours and he steals the words out of your mouth. You sigh into him, your shoulders relaxing as you bring an arm to wrap around his neck. He slips his hand behind your waist and caresses the small of your back, pushing you closer to him. He nibbles at your bottom lip and traces at the corner of your mouth with the tip of his tongue. You taste like milk-bread and chap stick, not a terrible combination, and he feels a hum building at the back of his throat as you tug at the curls at the nape of his neck. You open your mouth the tiniest bit and his tongue is eager to be released, he's quick to glide it against your front teeth and he's about to go deeper—

But then you pull away, leaving him breathless and he groans with desire as he watches a coy smile creep onto your lips—the lips he just kissed. They glisten with his saliva and he wants to lean in to capture your mouth again, but then you push at his chest with your free hand and you lean back a fraction of an inch.

He lets out a low whine that elicits a chuckle from you.

"You don't have to be such a tease," he grins, pulling you almost into his lap. "Usually I'm the one that leaves people wanting."

"No wonder why Iwaizumi wants to punch you all the time," you say. "That unbridled arrogance is so obnoxious."

"Hey! I never hear you complaining about it," he groans, his ego deflated as he rests his head on your shoulder.

"That's because I know when to keep thoughts to myself," you stick your tongue out at him and he pinches your side, causing you to yelp.

"Yeah, yeah, let's get you home Miss I'm-in-control-of-my-thoughts." he says, pulling you up from your seat and wrapping his hand around yours. He happily swings it back and forth the entire walk to your house.