Chapter Text
“ I am seeking something, always seeking something
in the midst of this terrible immobility, but also terribly impatient.
For the sake of this, my appetites and lusts are as nothing.
However, what that thing is, I don’t know, I have never known;
I don’t think there are two, I think there is only one.
However, what that thing is, I don’t know, I have never known.
Even one way or another to get there, I don’t know at all.
Like when I tease myself, I ask myself sometimes:
Is it a woman? Is it a sweet? Is it glory?
Then my heart screams: That’s not it; This isn’t it; That’s not it; This isn’t it!
Then is it the sky’s song, morning, high in the sky, the echoing sky’s song?”
Oikawa Tooru meets Kita Shinsuke on the day he interviews his potential new roommates.
The given time for the supposed interview had been 11 pm, though Oikawa doesn’t feel too pressed about having to face random or, the even more mortifying option, known people, as he is very well aware that no one his age who’s running around juggling two majors like him would come right on time to something as trivial as this. He checks himself out in the mirror, mentally giving the earliest person to arrive at least 15 minutes late.
But right as the clock strikes 11, he hears the sharp trill of his doorbell tearing through the calm that settled around him. His eyebrows shoot to his hairline. No way.
He takes his sweet time reaching the door because he’s a little sh*t like that. When he finally pulls the door open, he’s met with a vaguely familiar face looking back at him with mild disapproval.
He stamps down the urge to stand up straighter under the stranger’s gaze and pulls out his most blinding smile, one that could bring any mortal down to their knees.
The stranger seems unfazed.
He knows that look. He has seen that cool, calculating gaze somewhere. Grey roots fading into black, the sound of the ball bouncing off of one’s forearms, a quiet presence in the middle of beasts with gnashing jaws and bared teeth, deadly, persistent, resilient.
Oikawa freezes.
We don’t need the memories.
Inarizaki volleyball team’s ex-captain was standing outside his house, staring down at him.
Well, not exactly staring down at him. The man was a solid 10 cm shorter than him, but at that moment, it certainly didn’t feel like it.
Oikawa forces himself out of his stupor and stretches his lips in another painfully fake smile.
“Hello! How can I help you?”
“I happened to hear from a friend that you were currently looking for a roommate,” his voice is steady and low. Oikawa thinks he could be a great narrator in one of those ASMR videos that are so popular these days, ”And I’m currently searching for a place to stay, so I wanted to check if the place is available.”
So formal and concise. Oikawa opens his door wider and steps aside, ”Oh, you’re right on time, then. Come on in.”
“Coming!” Oikawa calls out, annoyed. He didn’t have to open the door to know that it was another person coming to check in on the apartment vacancy and good f*cking lord, he knows he’s handsome and perfect and literally the best roommate one could ask for but did there have to be so many interested people-
He puts on his best fake smile and swings open the door, "Hi there- oh hell no.”
Before he could slam the door in his face, Tobio, that bastard, jams his feet between the crack of the door and elbows his way inside the house, deaf to Oikawa’s cusses. One day , he promises himself, one day I’m really going to call the cops on this brat.
Kageyama makes himself comfortable on the living room couch and returns Tooru’s burning glare with a cool gaze of his own. Oikawa is positively fuming when he grits out, “Why are you here?”
“I heard you’re looking for a roommate. I’m looking for an apartment.”
Oikawa barks out a laugh, loud and mean, “Tobio-chan, here’s the thing. Even though we are on decent terms now, we are not besties and hopefully will never be. I cannot stand you still, but the feeling has reduced greatly from what it was in high school. So if I were to live with you, I give myself 2 weeks tops to kill you, all offence intended. Let’s not do anything to disturb this fragile truce of ours.”
The petty side of him (which constitutes a large part of his personality) was still bitter about admitting that he didn’t hate Tobio. But what can he do? He too is a victim of circ*mstances. It happened like this:
Kageyama had come banging on his door on the very first day he moved into his new apartment in Tokyo at some ungodly hour, drunk and teary-eyed. But here’s the best part- Oikawa was wasted and depressed, too. With no friend to whine about his sob story to, he had been restless and like a godsend, there stood Kageyama Tobio, the golden boy. And boy did he want to throw some hands right then.
A half-hour catfight ensues (calling it a brawl would be blatant disrespect of the word; they were too drunk to even come up with insults better than “you’re mean!” “well, that’s because you’re stupid!”, much less throw a proper punch)
At one point, when they were rolling on the floor, clawing at each other and screaming obscenities, Kageyama goes still. Silent tears roll down his cheeks as he stares up at Oikawa’s raised hand frozen in place. He whispers, “All I wanted was to be like you, you asshole. Was that such a bad thing to want?”
“Be like me ?” Tooru had scoffed, incredulous, borderline manic, “Are you f*cking kidding me? You were better than me in every way without even trying.”
The salt of his tears stings the cut on his cheekbone, “You have always been better than me. I am tired of you acting like it was anything but that.”
Crack!
“Shut the f*ck up,” Kageyama hisses, yanking Tooru closer by his shirt collar, “Do you know who I looked up to in middle school? You were my goddamn role model, Oikawa. And in high school, even after we won that match against Seijoh, whose approval do you think I still craved? Whose serves do you think I based mine on? It was you, still. Your self-deprecating ass doesn’t get to tell me jack sh*t about talent when you’re so busy wallowing in your self-pity. So what, your potential didn’t get recognised? Poor little thing. For the love of god, grow a pair. And guess what? The best setter in the prefecture still thinks he amounts to nothing next to you.”
His whole cheek burns from the force of Kageyama’s slap and also with an emotion he can’t quite identify. The sobs escape him gradually; in slow, silent gasps finally descending to full-blown weeping. Kageyama joins him soon after.
“I’m so sorry,” he cries, wails , “I’m so sorry. I’m just so tired. I’m so tired of it all, I’m so sorry-”
It paints a strange picture. Two high school rivals, two college students, two kids hurt and drunk out of their minds falling apart, together. They fall asleep like that on the cold floor and wake up to joints aching all over and bicker all morning. The only thing that showed anything changed at all was when Oikawa patched up all of Kageyama’s wounds and iced his eyes that were swollen from all the crying, huffing, “You better be grateful, you spoiled brat.” and the smile Kageyama gave him after.
So yes, you could call them friends.
Kageyama doesn’t look the least bothered by the other boy’s bitchiness. Instead, he looks at Oikawa like he’s a silly mosquito buzzing around his ear and stands up, “Okay. I’m going to make myself some tea. Do you have any potential roommates in mind yet?”
A flash of silver hair fading into black. Oikawa shakes it out of his head, “I’m not sure yet.”
Tooru stiffens at the silence that follows his response. He had only been friends with Tobio for a year now, but he knew him enough to know that that silence meant he was judging him so hard right now.
“Shut the f*ck up.”
Tobio doesn’t look back, “I didn’t even say anything.”
“Yes, you are. You are emitting those f*ckin’- annoying judgy vibes. Stop. Begone, thot.”
He simply rolls his eyes, and pours the steaming tea into two cups, “No.”
“Then at least tell me what you’re bitching about in your head.”
“Just thinking about how it has been about a year since you stopped talking to Iwaizumi-san and retired from volleyball and you’re still not taking the first steps to even think about moving on.”
Oikawa sucks in a breath. Was he being dramatic, or was the room spinning? f*ck Tobio, can’t he pull his punches once in a while?
“Don’t. This has nothing to do with any of that.” he hisses, feeling a familiar sting on the back of his throat. Has it already been a year? Have I been carrying this weight around with me for that long?
Kageyama fixes his unnervingly blue eyes on him, and Tooru is paralysed, “Really? So you not making a single friend, not going on a single date, not doing anything that makes you feel like volleyball did is perfectly normal?”
No, no, he refuses to let his throat close up now. He lifts his chin defiantly, “I have plenty of friends, Tobio-chan. I simply don’t find the need to go around collecting new ones. And I’m just not interested in anything except academics right now.”
Ghostly vapour rises from his cup on the table. Tobio’s eyes are sad, gentle. He hates it with all that he has, so without thinking, he says,
“And I actually did choose a roommate, but I didn’t want to tell you just yet. Since you are being such a bitch, I might as well tell you,” He doesn’t have to think hard about it, “Kita Shinsuke. He’s the one.”
Eyebrows raised, Kageyama tucks a leg beneath him and settles down on the couch beside him, “Oh? Inarizaki’s captain? That Kita-san?”
Well. No going back now, I guess.
“Ah yes, that’s why the name sounded familiar,” he responds, a picture of nonchalance and indifference. Beside him, Tobio slurps his tea loudly, earning himself a smack to the back of his head.
A few beats later, Kageyama says, quietly, “I worry, you know.”
A flash of green eyes full of concern, hair left untamed, tender touches soothing all his hurt.
Something in his chest breaks and crumbles. His voice cracks when he responds, “Yeah, I know.”
Fading footsteps, apologetic glances, receding texts. “Goodbye, Tooru.”
He says f*ck it and lets the tears fall. He drops his head on Kageyama’s shoulder. The next time he’ll be seeing him will be god knows when; maybe two weeks or maybe a month later. And he doesn’t want him to leave just yet. It gets too quiet there at night, “Do you wanna grab dinner together?”
Tobio presses his cheek to his head, “Yeah, okay.”
They stay like that till Oikawa stops shaking. Kageyama never mentions it, not even once.
(He wakes up the next morning and screams into his pillow before flinging it across the room. Then, he calmly picks up his phone and informs Kita Shinsuke that they can discuss the moving-in process the day after.)
"Kita-san!" he grins, "come inside! Your future home welcomes you."
The grey-haired boy bows his head politely, before stepping inside and toeing off his shoes. There's some calming precision about every one of his movements, Tooru notices. No extra flourishes, no wasted actions. Precise and to the point, like a surgeon handling the scalpel.
Tooru looks away and forces the smile back into his face as he walks back to his (their?) living room. He falls back on the couch and gestures to the other to do the same. Kita quietly settles beside him.
Another thing Oikawa notices about Kita Shinsuke: he doesn't shy away from eye contact. In fact, he seemed insistent on making it all the damn time. Tooru will not let it unnerve him, damnit. So he raises his eyes and meets his gaze coolly.
"Well, first things first!" he exclaims, clapping his hands, "we have to do something about your name."
Calm, composed. He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, “What about my name?"
"Well, you see," he starts with a flourish. Iwa-chan would hate me for talking like this , he thinks and shakes the thought out of his head, lightning fast, “Kita-san is too… blergh. Shinsuke-san and Shinsuke-chan are both equally terrible. Hmm… how do you feel about Shin-chan?"
Something about his demeanour cracks. Tooru almost claps his hands together in joy when he sees something akin to anger at how he clenches his jaw and looks away for a second before looking back at him.
He smiles wider. He suspects cruel might be the best way to describe it, “Shin-chan it is, then!"
"No."
"I'm sorry?"
"No, you will not address me as Shin-chan." Oikawa has never been one to be intimidated by someone's glare. Hell, they usually make him laugh. But there was something about Kita's fury. Something so brutally honest and there . It hits you right in the face with all the force of a hurricane and oh, Oikawa, like the mortal he is, can only retreat at its intensity.
"You can call me Kita if Kita-san is too much."
There's a minute of startled silence before Oikawa pulls himself together. He clears his throat and laughs, "Alright, then!" He turns towards the boy and rests his chin on his steepled fingers delicately, "So, Kita. Here's the thing. If you really wanna live here, there are a few rules."
Kita nods. The man looks like he's taking notes in his head as he says, "Right. If it's about how we're going to split the rent, I have some questions about that as well-"
Oikawa waves him off, "Oh please, I don't give a sh*t about all that. I just figured that if we're gonna be living together, you'll appreciate a no-bullsh*t talk from my end, as I've been told I'm usually full of that."
He drops the smile and cherishes the surprise flashing through the other man's eyes looking at the hard set lines of his face. Not a lot of people are unaffected by his no-bullsh*t transition, and it's always satisfying to watch their shock at the abrupt change in his facade.
"We're not here to be best buddies. This is a mutually beneficial agreement because we're both college students with little to no money and rooming with someone takes some weight off our shoulders. And that's all there is. I have bad days. I have good days. I don't want you in any of them. We're not here for a good time. At least, I'm not. I don't want you all up in my business. You seem like a nice guy, but I just want to be left alone. You leave me alone, I leave you alone, we coexist in this mutual space. We can move on with the rent discussion and whatnot if you're okay with this."
This doesn't seem to faze Kita. Who would want to be friends with a fake piece of sh*t like you?, " I am okay with all that. And I too have a condition."
Oikawa leans forward, intrigued, "Go on."
"I work a lot of jobs. I come home at ungodly hours. But that doesn't mean I entertain any questions about my activities. If you are okay with that, then we're good here."
Tooru simply shrugs, "That sounds shady as f*ck, but hey, it's not like I care. I leave you alone, you leave me alone. That's our deal and I'm not going to be breaking it."
Kita nods, "Then I don't see a problem here. Shall we move on to the rent agreements?"
Oikawa smirks, amused, "Why the hell not?"
Kita wasn’t kidding when he said he would come home late. It wouldn’t be a problem, really, if the time he chooses to come back is not Oikawa’s time-to-bawl-my-eyes-out o’clock.
You see, overall, Kita Shinsuke was the dream roommate. He keeps to his side of the house, and takes care of his own mess (that’s a lie; he never makes a mess to begin with), hell, he even cleans for Oikawa sometimes. And he looks like he doesn’t mind doing it.
True to his word, he doesn’t give a sh*t about what Oikawa does. He doesn’t look at him questioningly when he mutes the 27th call of the day from Kageyama, he doesn’t question it when he comes home limping, sweaty, clutching a volleyball so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He doesn’t try to make meaningless conversation about how they both have taken the same obscure major, only it was in two different colleges. Hell, he didn’t even make a comment on Oikawa’s Japanese literature book collection like he expected he would. He gave off the vibes of a person who’d do that.
On the rare occasion that their eyes do meet, Oikawa always looks away. There was something about Kita. Something so… honest. He didn’t like it. It reminded him of people he’d rather forget.
Now, back to the main problem. Kita’s shady as f*ck ‘jobs’ usually end by 2 am or later, and transportation makes him come home only by 3 am. The first day it happened, the scene went down something like this:
bratio >:|
Oikawa. Please. Pick up. You know i can’t come over to check on you every two days
God f*ckin damnit
I’m worried
Please, oikawa
You have one (1) missed call from bratio >:|
He tosses his phone to the side of his bed and clutches his chest. Breathing always got hard at times like this. He feels himself clawing at his skin as he inhales raggedly, but he can’t stop. He’s afraid he’ll do something stupid like call Tobio. Or god forbid, Iwaizumi.
Oh god, Iwaizumi.
A ragged sound escapes his throat as the first tears start to slide down his cheeks. His legs seem to be filled with liquid fire.
He pounds his fist on his knee and almost screams. Things were getting too loud again.
Calm down.
I love you, Tooru.
One, two, three. Everything was alright. It was fine. He was fine.
Oikawa, I think we need to take a break from each other.
He squeezes his eyes close as he hears the telltale sound of keys jingling. He collapses on the bed, turns to his side and holds his knees to his chest.
Oikawa-san, I’m afraid you can’t pursue volleyball professionally without severely risking being in pain for the rest of your life.
He was fine. He was okay. He will not scream. He will not rake his nails up and down his knees and curse everything holy in this hopeless world. He will not sob in front of Kita f*cking Shinsuke.
Goodbye, Tooru.
He can hear Kita padding into the room carefully, not wanting to wake him. Everything is blurry. Was the world trembling, or was it him? Has it always been him?
The number you have dialled can no longer be reached.
He sobs. Kita stills in his place.
I miss you.
unread, 12/11/22
“Oikawa-san?”
He bites down on his fist as another sob threatens to escape him. He curls into himself further, willing with all he has to make him go away ( stay, please. i don’t want to be alone anymore).
“Table for two, as usual, sir?”
“No. Just one, please.”
The silence stretches between them, and Kita seems to have broken out of the spell he was under. He doesn’t spare him another glance as he walks to his own cot and lies down. Oikawa tells himself he is thankful.
He muffles his sobs in his pillow through the night. The next morning, Kita doesn’t ask him about his swollen eyes, and Oikawa doesn’t ask him about his dark, dark circles. And so it goes.
It happens again. And again. And again and again.
Kita never even looks at him these days.
With project deadlines looming over his head and stacks of research papers and his laptop piled up in his arms, Oikawa finds himself storming inside a cafe like he was going to sue everyone in the room when in reality he just wanted his really complicated frappe order and maybe one chocolate chip muffin. He has two hours off before his next class and he has to eat and finish his review of Nakahara Chuuya’s poetry and his chemistry assignment report by then. Organic Chemistry is hard, okay? Being a chemistry major and a Japanese lit major? Yeah, that’s more than enough to drive you insane.
He immediately sags when the scent of coffee slams into him. Maybe there’s meaning to life after all.
He is quick to weave through the crowd of students filtering inside the cafe to find a nice cozy seat by the window. He noisily drops his bag on the seat opposite his and opens his laptop.
And for a 10 solid minutes, he stares at the blank document sitting in front of him.
It’s only when he reaches out to his phone to open Instagram that he says f*ck it and stands up to go order. His lips part in surprise when he sees who’s behind the counter. Well, I didn’t expect that.
There stands Kita Shinsuke in all his modest glory, ringing up people’s orders with a polite, but genuine smile. Oikawa momentarily forgets what he was there for as he continues staring.
He looks like… he looks soft. Gentle, in a way he hasn’t ever seen anyone be. Like autumn leaves and spring breeze. It’s almost as if he carries a part of nature with him. Kind. Simple.
Beautiful, his mind supplies and he pretends he doesn’t hear it.
Huh. So, shady job no.1 has been uncovered.
Oikawa has to admit, Kita is not what he expected. From the looks of him, he deduced that the other boy would be someone with a heavy saviour complex and that he’d try to approach Oikawa sometime or the other about his self-destructing tendencies because come on, it’s almost obvious at this point. So he had been on guard for weeks, walking around the house with a haughty rise to his chin, almost as if daring him to say something, anything about the late night crying, the bruised knees or all the other problematic sh*t that he sees happen.
But for once in his life, Tooru had been proved totally and utterly wrong about a person. Kita Shinsuke sincerely doesn’t give a sh*t about him. Even if he did, he doesn’t show it. He seems to be a man of his word. They had a deal, and he does everything to keep up his end of it. And Oikawa admired him for that.
The only problem here is that it makes Oikawa want to break his end of the bargain and prod at his life. Who are you?
What can he say, he has always been a sucker for unravelling mysteries.
Like he could sense being watched, Kita’s eyes snapped up right in time and met Oikawa’s gaze. Tooru smirks lazily when he sees Kita pale and waves in a way that Tobio would insist is downright condescending, “Yahoo, Kita-chan!”
Kita sighs heavily and turns back to the counter, dealing with the next person in line. A pout automatically appears on Oikawa’s lips. Rude.
It takes him some time, but when it’s finally his time to order, he flashes Shinsuke a winning smile and says, “So, how long have you been working here?”
Kita’s mask of indifference doesn’t shift in the slightest. He adjusts his cap and recites, “Welcome to the Brewery, Oikawa-san. What would you like to have today?”
He props an elbow on the counter and pretends to think. Tooru firmly believes being annoying should be considered a form of therapeutic release, “Hmm. Well, I have this really annoying report to write on this guy, right? And it’s really pissing me off. So! Distract me from this hell. Surprise me with a drink and snack of your choice.”
And just because he can, he adds a wink to the statement.
If it was any other person, they would’ve rolled their eyes and scoffed. Some even blush and melt. But as Kita Shinsuke is not any other person, he nods and says, “I see. Your order will arrive shortly, please take your seat.”
That was a lot less exciting than I thought it would be. Shame.
He walks back to his seat with a dramatic huff and rolls up the sleeves of his sweater. Time to get to work.
He doesn’t know how long he has been spending browsing through poems and scribbling notes furiously when someone places a steaming cup of something in front of him along with a muffin. Oikawa raises a questioning eyebrow at Kita.
“You look like you could use something comforting, so hot chocolate,” he points out, “and a red velvet muffin because I think it’s the best they make in the cafe.”
That was… surprisingly thoughtful. Kita bows stiffly and before he can turn and walk away, Oikawa finds himself asking, “Say, do you think you can take your shift’s break now? I’d like some help with this thing.”
Tooru sees the other boy visibly hesitating for a few minutes, so he decides to cut him some slack this one time, “Of course, I totally understand if you can’t.”
He purses his lips and exhales through his nose before finally saying, “Fine. But I can only stay for 15 minutes.”
Tooru claps his hand and grins (there’s not even a hint of sincerity in it, nope) and pats the seat next to him. He considers asking him how long his shift lasts and quickly decides against it.
He loosens his apron in one smooth motion as he settles in his seat and starts folding it, “What is it that you wanted help with?”
“I wanted your opinion on this particular work of Nakahara Chuuya,” he slides his laptop towards him, “As a fellow Japanese lit major, I was curious to hear your thoughts on it.”
He is quiet for a while. Oikawa sips on the hot chocolate without checking its temperature and burns his tongue. Kita tries to hide his smile when he yelps and almost jumps out of his seat at the heat. Nothing anyone wouldn’t expect to happen.
His voice rings like a ripple in a still lake, “I think… I think Nakahara Sensei wrote this about a person who was at war with himself. All his life. Someone who was taught that to be angry is to be safe.”
For some reason, that makes him want to snap, “So you think his life was sad? And that’s all it was? Just because he went through sh*t, that defines him?”
“No,” he touches the books laid in front of him with something akin to sorrow, “I just think that war tires you. War tires you and I’m not sure if he let himself be tired in front of someone, ever. Do you think he could breathe easily? A man who is at war with himself and with the world. Maybe he wasn’t lonely. Maybe he just didn’t know how to stop being alone.”
“But he loved,” his voice is too silent for his liking. He closes his eyes and quotes, “‘ Once I believed love poems were foolish / yet now I do nothing but dream about love.’”
“He could love just as well as anyone else in this world. Then how do you say he didn’t know how to stop being alone?”
“Oikawa-san,” he folds his arms in front of him, thoughtful, “I think you and I know that wanting to be loved does not mean you’ll let yourself be loved.”
He manages a rueful smile, “Oh?”
He gets a half-smile in response, “Fifteen minutes are up. I’ll see you around, Oikawa-san.”
Oikawa finishes his hot chocolate and muffin, but not the review. When he finally leaves, Kita is nowhere to be seen and he just has more on his mind as he walks out than he did when he walked inside the cafe.
Oh well, he thinks, at least I know what I’ll be ordering the next time I come here.
Oikawa was having one of his better nights when he hummed to himself and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Kita, decidedly, was not.
Oikawa sees it in his hunched shoulders, empty eyes and dark circles. He sees it in his white-knuckled grip on his pen and the drooping of his eyelashes. An aura of total and complete exhaustion radiates off of him.
It’s easy to deduce why. Even though it was a Sunday night, the grey-haired boy had been working till midnight just like he had the whole weekend and studying for his semester exams during his free time. The trash himbo in Tooru wanted to look at him and say ‘LOLLLL major L for you, bro’. But as he had no interest in finding out about how it would feel to be punched by Kita Shinsuke, he refrains from doing so.
There’s a fleeting thought that prompts him to make coffee for his roommate and fellow soldier braving through the battlefield that is Analysis of Obscure and More Often Than Not sh*tty Poems. But he squashes that thought down and turns to the wall. It was not worth sacrificing some sweet, sweet rest over. And it’s none of his business, anyway.
When he blinks open his eyes, the room is still dark. Sitting up thinking that it’s somewhere near 6 am, he fumbles for his phone, shrugging his blanket off his legs.
Of course, it’s nowhere near 6. It’s 3:17 am and Oikawa is so done with his stupid brain and its inability to stay half-dead for at least 8 hours.
Well. It was not a lost cause yet. He could still go back to bed and get some sleep if he tried hard enough. But it’s the sight of Kita sprawled across his study table that stops him.
He curses at himself as he moves forward to get a better look. The other boy was knocked out cold on top of his notebook, his laptop still displaying an empty Google Docs page. Oikawa picks up a sticky note stuck to the wall and squints at it.
Assignments to finish
- Essay on the evolution of writing styles due to the influence of the country’s economic and social status through the years
- Analysis of any prominent work of your choice from the Edo period
Last day of submission- Monday
Oikawa stares at the note, the painfully empty document, and at Kita, who was probably sleeping fitfully for the first time since god knows when. Tomorrow- no, today was Monday. He knows for a fact that Kita has class at 9 am and he wouldn’t be waking up any sooner at this rate, so he’d be royally f*cked in the ass. But Oikawa doesn’t have class till noon. He makes some quick mental calculations, sighs and goes to make some coffee.
He really hates himself sometimes.
(The next morning, Kita wakes up to an empty desk and a blanket draped over his shoulders. When he walks out of the room, he finds Oikawa sprawled out on their couch, sleeping with his mouth wide open. He tears his gaze away from the frankly adorable sight and looks at his laptop placed on the coffee table with a sticky note attached to it.
Not a word about this when you next see me. Not. A. Word.
P.S. you owe me one)
***
