Friday, the last day of exams. There are collective sighs of relief that hover in the atmosphere all throughout the day. Just a couple of more hours, and this hell is going to be over soon.

It's been two days since Oikawa asked Mitsuha to be his girlfriend in front of the third year student population of Aoba Johsai, and while it's no longer a topic of gossip amongst her classmates, it's certainly still making the rounds in the lowerclassmen groups. Mitsuha's had at least three groups of heartbroken girls approach her during her lunch breaks, intercepting her while on her way to the library. And while she's had to put up a front of not being disturbed by it one bit, it's irritating after hearing their repeated woes one after the other.

"Just get over it," she mutters, walking away from another group that's made it their duty to burden her with their sadness. "He's not some fucking idol."
Yuki shrugs her shoulders. "You can't blame him; he's quite the celebrity," she replies, her hands stuffed into her blazer pockets. Mitsuha lets out a pained groan. "You kinda signed up for this."

"Yeah, but I didn't expect it to be this bad," she whines, giving her best friend a look. "He's leaving this year anyway; it's not like he's going to remember all of them and write fan mail to them after he's graduated." She shakes her head, trying to get some of her irritation away. "And I don't get why they have to come up to me to complain," Mitsuha continues. "If you have a problem with it, go and complain to him, or someone who's willing to listen. I'm not their emotional support or fucking therapist."

They leave the school building, heading in the direction of the gym. Hajime had informed her this morning that the volleyball club would be playing their last practice match today, against a college team from another town.
Despite the stresses of exams, their coach had made it a point to continue their usual schedules of morning and evening practices, stating that it worked as stress relief. It partially did, because Mitsuha had never seen her cousin so incredibly relaxed the night before their history exam, a subject he loathes.

"If it bothers you so much," Yuki says, once they near the threshold of the gym, "maybe talk to him about it? He could tell them to back off-"
"It's just a couple of more days, and we'll be away from this mess," Mitsuha says dismissively, pushing open the gym door as she does so. The volleyball club is busy with practicing their serves and receives, so none of them notice the two girls enter. "I can manage."

Coach Irihata notices the two of them out of the corner of his eye, and gives them a small smile in welcome. They bow slightly in respect, before taking the stairs to the balcony upstairs. Yuki is trying her best to not burst into a fit of giggles when she spots Kyoutani and Hajime, remembering their maid costumes and red faces from the cultural festival. It's infectious laughter, but Mitsuha doesn't want to catch it any way or form, so she drags her best friend up the stairs, trying not to burst into laughter herself.

They make their way to the right side of the court, and Mitsuha spots some of the girls from before on the opposite side, eagerly whispering and giggling amongst themselves while they look down on Oikawa mingling with his teammates. She's no stranger to jealousy, but this is getting out of hand.
"Don't they have exams?" she hisses, slumping across the railing. "They need to go study. That's what I was doing when I was in second year, studying."

"Jealousy is not one of your nicer looks," Yuki comments, giving her an all-knowing glance. "You sound like my grandmother."
"Yeah well, it's inbuilt."

The college team is huddled in the corner, a couple of them looking at the Seijoh players while they practice. Mitsuha spots the captain, who sports wind-swept blond hair that would make girls swoon. He's attractive in the movie-star sense of attractiveness, but nothing enough for Mitsuha to continue staring.
He seems to have noticed though, and looks up in her direction, giving her a bright smile.

"Are you free after this?" he calls out confidently, a hand placed on his hip. "You, pretty girl with the white bow in her hair."
It's frankly quite disgusting to be recognized by just the bow. She ignores him and goes on her phone instead, which earns her a hearty chuckle from the heartthrob below.

"You don't need to ignore me, yanno. That just makes me want to take you out even more," he says, with that snarky tone she often heard over-confident guys use in animes.

"Men," her and Yuki grumble simultaneously.

A whistle blown, signalling the start of the match. Mitsuha pockets her phone, turning her attention back to the court.

Oikawa is at the end line, getting ready to serve. His face is solemn and stern, which is his usual composure during any match. But there's something slightly off about him, in the way he bounces the ball with extra aggression, his brows furrowed in what she hopes is annoyance. He's biting his lower lip in concentration, but she can't help but feel slightly intimidated by his whole aura, despite being this high up.

He's kinda hot, she thinks, feeling a little flustered before she reprimands herself internally for thinking that way.
"Tooru, nice serve!" she calls out with a smile, and his demeanor changes in a flash, from the focused captain to a charming boy. He gives her a sweet smile and a thumbs-up, before settling back into his previous mood.

She watches as he moves behind the end line a few inches, getting ready to hit his iconic jump-serve. She sees Kindaichi and Hajime cover the back of their heads with their hands in anticipation of the direction.

And so he runs a little, small steps that a ballerina would take to make before performing a pirouette, before throwing the ball into the air. His feet lift off the ground, a few inches of air between the soles of his trainers and the gym floor, like a little bird leaping into the air, ready to test its wings. Except this little bird is not weak and helpless; he packs full power into the swing of his arm, and the ball smacks onto the floor of the opposite side of the court, the sound resonating within the walls.

"That hurt to hear," Yuki says, massaging her ear softly. "That's going to haunt me from now on."
She watches as the dainty little chick lands on his two feet, now a fully-fledged bird, ready to soar. He breathes heavily, inhaling air into his lungs as though he'd just been suffocated. But nothing can ever change the expression of pure satisfaction and bliss that he wears on his face, a triumphant smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

This is going to be an interesting match.

*

It ends 2-1, Seijoh taking home the victory. There's just faces of pure joy and relief when Mitsuha and Yuki descend the stairs and reach court level, and applaud appreciatively while the team relishes in their victory. All except one member.

He's quiet, not drawing attention to himself as he usually does at the end of the match. In fact, he's been quiet the entire game, and not his usual cheery and excited self that powered the rest of the team throughout. Even when they had shaken hands with the college team and thanked them for the game, Oikawa Tooru had remained a blank canvas, his eyes even devoid of the respect he held for another captain. What she saw there instead was contempt and irritation, something she hasn't seen in him before.

"You were great out there," Mitsuha says, handing him a bottle of water. His eyes are still on the college team, but his gaze is particularly focused on the captain, who's chatting to the lowerclassmen girls from before. They surround him, buzzing with excitement and practically falling at his feet. She's relieved that it's not Tooru they're doing it to.

"Thanks," he mutters, as he takes the bottle from her, downing it one go. His eyes aren't on her, but she waits patiently for him to finish drinking and takes the bottle from him. His apathy, coupled with the contrasting fire that burns in his eyes, makes her uneasy. "You and Iwa-chan can go ahead," he says after a while, taking a towel from the stack on the bench. "I'll catch up later."

The brevity of his words only make her feel uneasier. She only gives him a small nod of her head, before heading back to Yuki, who's chatting animatedly with Hanamaki and Matsukawa about something. The college captain, who was completely enamoured by the attention from before, is now looking at her with the same eagerness as he did in the beginning, but she doesn't pay him any attention.
He jogs up to her, stopping her in her tracks. Yuki looks from behind him, clearly disgusted.

"I didn't get the chance to ask for your name earlier," he says, his voice oozing with charm. "I'm still pretty dead set on taking on that date, if you're free."

She gives him a blank stare. "I have exams tomorrow, and I'm not interested," she lies, wanting him to get the picture, as she steps to the side to walk around him. But he stops her again, and she's resisting the urge to bite his head off.

"Ah, so you're the studious type?" he inquires, giving her a sly look. "I like girls like that."
"I don't care," she hisses, her face turning up in a sneer. He looks at her, slightly shocked, before she walks around him again, muttering something under her breath inaudibly.

They're back outside the gym, all five of them with the exception of Oikawa, who's still inside the locker room. The rest of the team have already left, with the college team leaving a few minutes ago. Till then, the atmosphere had been tense, with Oikawa and Iwaizumi both glaring at the other captain, who ignored them until they had gone.

"He said to go on without him," Mitsuha says, idly kicking stones in the pavement. "But should we?"
"Nah, give him some time," Hanamaki replies, crossing his arms. "It's clear that whole flirting thing really put him off."
"Yeah, he was a way lot more serious in this match," Yuki adds, her face filled with slight concern. "Thought the fucker would loosen up a little because it was his last practice game but he's worse than his usual moodiness."

"Go check up on him," Hajime says, looking at Mitsuha. She stops kicking the stones to give him a look. "Why me?" she asks pointedly, hands on her hips.

"Because you're probably the only one who can talk some sense into him without feeling the need to punch him in the face," her cousin replies, while she whines in complaint. With reluctant feet she trudges to the boys' locker room, grumbling.

The door to the locker room is slightly ajar when she gets there, but she makes no motion to enter. Instead she stands outside by the doorpost, her arms crossed and humming a tune.
She gives it five minutes before she peeks inside, trying her best not to get noticed.

"Tooru," she calls out, pushing the door open a little bit more, when she sees that no one is in. "You there?"

There's no response except for the sound of one of the overhead showers turning on. Mitsuha sighs, and comes to sit on one of the wooden benches placed there.
She's been in here multiple times before, whenever Hajime used to forget something in his locker and make her go get it, claiming he was "too tired" to make the walk back. And while she was completely used to sitting there and minding her own business, it still made her feel a little nervous.

Mitsuha takes out her phone, deciding to text Hajime that it'll be a while, and that the rest of them should head to dinner instead of waiting. She sends the text just as the shower stops, and a really bitter Oikawa Tooru steps out, dressed in his tracksuit pants. There's a towel slung over his shoulder, and he's busy shaking the water out of his hair to notice that she's there.

She looks up at him, placing the phone to her side. He's looking down at her, his eyes still carrying the same amount of contempt as before. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, but that doesn't stop her from staring.
She's seen him shirtless countless of times before, whenever they went to the beach on a trip with friends or if he slept over at theirs', so she's used to it. But she had never given much thought to it before, how toned his body actually is. There are slight bruises on his torso and arms from playing volleyball, and tiny scratches and cuts across his body from the countless times he's fallen on the gravel or cement when practicing outside.

You're being a creep, stop it.
"I said you can go ahead," Oikawa says, his voice still bitter-sounding. Mitsuha snaps out of it, looking into his eyes instead.
She coughs slightly, before sitting up straight. "Everyone wants to go to dinner together," Mitsuha replies, her hands in her lap. "To celebrate your last practice match-"

"It was just one fucking practice match," he interjects, now sounding cross. "There's no reason to celebrate it because it's the last one, or because we won it. We could have won it in our sleep if we tried."

She gives him a blank look, trying to understand where this anger is coming from. She stands up now, facing him at equal eye-level. "Is there something wrong?" she asks slowly, her hands behind her back. "Because if there is-"

"There isn't." The reply is short and curt; he's not looking at her anymore but now at the lockers to his side. "You can go."
She gives him a disapproving look. "Tooru, seriously-I really don't have the patience for this," she says, raising an eyebrow at him. "Just put on a fucking shirt and let's go, we can talk about whatever's bothering you on the way to dinner." He looks back at her, his face blank despite it being the bitterest thing she's ever seen.

She crosses her arms in front of her chest, giving him another look in anticipation. "Well?"
"It's nothing," he mutters, hanging the towel on the rack above. "Sorry."

Mitsuha scoffs. "Even you could do better at an apology." He chuckles to himself, but doesn't respond. She dares to inch closer to him, leaning against the metal of the lockers. "What's up?" she asks softly, a gentle warmth in her eyes. She's itching to touch his face with her fingers but holds herself back.

He mutters something inaudibly, but she can pick up the words of "college" and "stress" in his little breathy rant. She figured that the incessant flirting would have put him off the edge, but she never took him to be one to be stressed about exams.
"Ah, so you're jealous?" she queries, and his eyes are on her again, the answer very clear in them.

"Well now you know how I've been fucking feeling the past two days," she says, clicking her tongue in disgust. "D'you know how many groups of your "oh so adoring" fans I've had to encounter when I just wanted to sit in the library and study? They all want to ask why I'm dating you, like it even matters to them," she points out, leaning forward. He steps back a little, clearly not expecting these turn of events.

"I mean, get over it-he's not your boyfriend!" she exclaims, throwing her hands up into the air with frustration. "I get it, he's popular and cool and hot, but he's my boyfriend, and not your celebrity crush!" She kicks the locker door in anger, now ranting to no one in particular. She gives him a look as he watches her, eyes wide in shock. "What?" she blurts out, crossing her arms.
He clears his throat, crossing his arms too. "That's exactly how I feel too," he says, not looking at her. "Except that was just...worse. He was everywhere, and practically drooling all over you even before the match started. And then after, when he was just hovering around you, like a bee. That irritates me." He's looking at her again. "Because I couldn't do anything about it."

They stand in silence for a while, not looking at each other at all. She has to admit that it's kind of silly to get jealous about those girls, but she can't help but feel irritated if that's all they want to talk about.
He sits on the bench now, burying his head in his hands. She watches him pull through chunks of his hair, a couple of stray droplets lingering on a few strands and coming to rest on his fingers. He begins to massage his temples, sighing softly.

She leaves her position from the lockers and steps closer to him, and he looks up at her as she comes to sit on his lap, her legs straddling his waist. Involuntarily, he sits up straight, his hands moving around her torso as she regards him with a small smile.
"You're really pretty up close," she murmurs softly, her fingers playing with a few strands of his chocolate hair. "Like, really pretty."

He chuckles softly, his hands making their way up her back, coming to rest at her shoulder blades. Oikawa watches as her eyes roam around his face, taking in his features one second at a time. Her fingers had left his hair and now wander aimlessly across the expanse of his face, trailing softly against his skin. Her eyes are filled with admiration and wonder, like when you enter an art gallery and you're trying to take in everything that you see.

Oikawa Tooru is Mitsuha's personal little art gallery, someone she still struggles to admire completely.

Her thumb plays with his bottom lip teasingly, and he can't help but smirk at her a little. She giggles, in that light-hearted manner that always manages to bring his spirits up, regardless of however shit he feels. "I can't really do anything about jealousy," she says softly, her breath cool against his skin. "Not my fault I'm too pretty." She giggles again, seeing his face light up.

"But if you're still feeling stressed," her voice now dropping to a whisper as she leans in closer to him, her face inches away from his, "I know something we can do."
She kisses the tip of his nose softly, her touch leaving him all fluttery on the inside. "That is, if you're up to it."

"You really need to up your seducing game," Oikawa murmurs, kissing her knuckles lightly. "It could use some work."
She gives him a small smile, before pressing her lips against his lightly. It's a sweet and light kiss, one that's meant to be short in duration, but Oikawa can't help but hunger more.
He pulls her closer to him, allowing him to kiss her fully and properly, as his hands move up into her hair, fumbling around with the bow her aunt had tied up in the morning. Finally getting it right, he tugs it on slowly, feeling her hair tumble into soft heaps in his hands. She lets out a satisfied sigh as his fingers play with the strands, curling the dark threads around his fingers, tugging at it softly.
He feels her hips roll slowly on his lap, and her mouth pulls away from his slowly, a string of saliva connecting them. Her face is flushed, and she's breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling like she's gasping for air. Her cheeks are a soft pink, like cotton candy, and her dark eyes are heavy and lustful.

"I haven't even done anything," Oikawa murmurs, his fingers entangling themselves from her hair and coming to cup her cheek. His thumb listlessly over the outline of her lips as she lets out a low whimper. He lowers his head slightly, lips grazing across her jawline softly. She lets out a soft moan, murmuring his name in the crown of melted chocolate curls.

He peppers the outlines of her face with light kisses, relishing in the sound of her tiny gasps and airy moans of his name as he slowly rises from the bench, lifting her up carefully. Her hold around his waist has tightened, and he can feel the cloth of her tights rub against the fabric of his pants. He stands near the lockers, slightly pushing her body into the metal surface as he continues to trail kisses along the length of her jawline, moving down to the base of her throat. She's panting heavily now, the soft repeated murmuring of his name replaced by quick and breathy pleas; her hands have now wandered to his exposed back, her nails digging into his skin lightly.

He grinds his hips against hers slowly, smirking a little when she arches her back in response, wanting him to come closer. The space between her legs feels slightly damp, and she gives him a winced smile when he notices. "That bad, huh?" he murmurs, before kissing her neck softly. She lets out a low gasp of pleasure, her nails now dragging themselves against the expanse of his skin.

She can feel how hard he is, how the soft fabric of his pants rubs against the sides of her thighs, warming her skin. It makes her want to dig her nails deeper into his skin; it's so fucking hard to resist him.
Mitsuha feels his hands leave her body slowly, as her legs slowly unwrap themselves from his waist, her shoes touching the floor lightly. He presses another kiss to her lips, as his fingers fumble with the buttons on her shirt, unbuttoning them in a frantic motion. She kisses him back, her hands moving his own away slowly as she undoes the buttons herself, giggling at his antics.

"It's not funny," he whines softly, after he pulls away from her. "It's harder when your eyes are closed."
"Then keep your eyes open," she murmurs, as her fingers snake into his hair again. "I want you to look at me, and not at anything else." She kisses his cheek. "Just me."

He nuzzles the side of her face with his nose, as his hands roam over her torso listlessly. She can feel the soft trailing of his fingers over her stomach, how his thumbs press into her slowly as they wander without cause, massaging her skin slowly. She lets out a low hum in response, feeling his hands move upwards to her chest, squeezing her breasts softly. "Tooru," she murmurs, his gaze back on her again, "stop being such a tease."
He chuckles lightly, before kissing her softly one more time. Just as she's about to kiss him back, he pulls away, his mouth moving downwards, leaving a lingering trail of kisses down her throat and her chest, and stopping when he's inches away from the band of her skirt. His eyes have been on her the entire time, just like she asked him to. She can see the desire and hunger in his eyes, and nods slowly for him to lift up her skirt and pull down her tights.

He does it slowly, leaving soft kisses on her skin underneath the skirt, his mouth moving down to the space between her legs. He nuzzles the inner parts of her thighs softly, kissing them tenderly as his fingers play with the band of her underwear, twisting the elastic around. Still pressing kisses to her thighs, he pulls down her underwear, grinning hungrily.
"Mittsun," he purrs, loud enough for her to hear, "you're so wet."

She bites her lip, trying to keep herself from moaning his name out loud. She breathes in slowly when she feels the roughness of his fingertips caress her folds, whimpering when she feels his tongue glide against her clit, tasting, savoring every inch of her. She struggles to keep a level head as he continues to lap her up, pressing light, fluttery kisses whenever he could. 

"Ah..T-Tooru..." she stutters, softly pushing his head closer. "R...right there...ah..."
She dares to look down, her eyes meeting his, which are alight in a devilish spark. She can almost see the smirk that would be on his face, can picture how morbidly joyful he would be to see her in such a state. It's not long before he completely sticks his tongue in her, swirling it around.

Her breath is wavering; her fingers clench into his hair tighter as he sucks and kisses on her clit, her back arching when she rides out the first few shocks of pure bliss that shoot up her spine.
She's about to moan his name out loud when he pulls away, licking his lips in delight. He rises to her level again, his fingers rubbing against her teasingly, bringing her closer and closer. "For someone who wanted to take my stress away," he croons in her ear, "you're very tense. Let me fix that for you."

He pushes a finger into her slowly, grinning madly when she lets out a gasp of air, her head rolling back. He pushes another digit in, and fingers her slowly, his thumb rubbing against her over-stimulated clit in a circular motion.

"D'you like that?" he asks in a sing-song voice, his breath hot against her skin. "You like that, kitten?" She nods wordlessly in response, her moaning increasing in pitch. She can't even think straight, the only thing running through her mind is the constant wave of pleasure Oikawa sends her.

It's when he adds the third finger does the knot inside her stomach snap; she leans her head forward, biting down on his exposed shoulder as she screams in pleasure, Oikawa laughing airily as a free hand comes to her back to steady her. He kisses the top of her head softly, pulling out his fingers from inside her as he does so. The tension in her body is now replaced with pure and utter bliss; the exhilaration still sending shivers throughout her.

He holds up three glistening fingers, which her face reddens at the sight of when she leans back, the bite marks on his skin turning a dark shade. Her mouth is slightly agape as she inhales heavily, and he plays with the outline of her lips with them, allowing her to taste the liquid.

"Button up your shirt," Oikawa says, as he lets her suck on his fingers, one at a time. "And pull up your tights; I think it's enough for today."
She looks at him, pleadingly, when the last finger is pulled out of her mouth, toying with her bottom lip. "We're not going to continue?" she whines, pouting as she does so. He shakes his head, and reaches for the shirt inside his locker as she pulls up her tights, whimpering softly when the damp fabric of her underwear touches her skin.

"We're going to be late for dinner," he replies, pulling the shirt over his head. "It's already been forty-five minutes." He gives her a small smile, as he helps her button the last few stubborn ones on her shirt. "We'll continue later, is that okay?" Mitsuha nods, before he pecks her on the cheek.

She picks up her bag from the floor, and takes her phone out of her pocket, eyes widening when she sees the amount of missed calls from Yuki. It was nearly five o'clock now; a whole hour has passed.

They're heading out of the locker room now, fingers intertwined as her free hand types away at the phone screen, formulating multiple messages of apology to Yuki and stating that they'd be there soon.

"Feel better?" Mitsuha asks, pocketing her phone. Oikawa nods, resting his head on top of hers as they leave the school, humming in response.

"Good, because I'm holding it to you later to continue," she says, as he looks at her, exasperated.
"D'you really think I'll be able to go all the way after I've eaten more than I can handle?" Oikawa snaps, as the hold around his hand tightens, making him wince.

"You played volleyball after eating your fill, twice!" she points out, looking up at him accusingly.
"That was one time!" he replies, getting defensive. She shakes her head.
"Still counts, Tooru, still counts."