the thing is, i kind of forgot that i'm not the only character in this story of my love life.

you've got sensei, the guy who unknowingly set us up. you've got his parents, the friendly supporting characters. you've got makki-chan, the comic relief that's definitely necessarily so everything doesn't become unbearably emotional. you've got mattsun, who forces out the truth and makes sure i don't come to a complete halt in my actions; the one that keeps the plot moving.

and then you've got the love interest, in my case, iwaizumi hajime. normally, the love interest is oblivious and unknowing; just there to be attractive. he, however, isn't that passive. and i seem to have forgotten that.

it's unexpected, and it comes with a long story — the story of our win against a university team in a practice match. the story of how iwaizumi contributed to that as well.

i'll start at the start.

—

we practice together a lot. it's fun, it's refreshing and it feels like nothing volleyball has ever felt like before. it feels like years worth of trust and teamwork and it's so easy for us to team up and win.

i don't have to call to him. i don't have to talk. all i have to do is look in his direction — and sometimes, not even that. sometimes he's already in the air, waiting for the ball, and all i have to do is send it in his direction. he spikes it to the ground. another point.

coach notices, too.

"yahaba, oikawa, iwaizumi," he calls one random wednesday afternoon, and we all jog over, me tugging iwaizumi along.

"yahaba, please translate this for iwaizumi," he says, clearing his throat, "i've been watching you two practice, and you're an exceptionally good duo. it's a waste to not use that teamwork and talent, so i'm offering you a spot on our team. i'd like you two to see if you can use your skills in a practice match against university students."

yahaba finishes translating hastily, and iwaizumi looks around, from yahaba to coach to me to coach and back to me, not knowing what to say.

i grin at him, nodding enthusiastically, and he turns to coach, nodding furiously before bowing to him. he then signs something to yahaba, who tells coach, "he's very thankful."

"good," he grinned, "now go practice." we run off again, and my heart's beating fast with excitement and happiness, for the fact that i'm now allowed to play with this guy every single day.

—

we play a six versus six with the aoba jousai team. and iwaizumi's even better under pressure.

he has unfathomable power — rivaling ushijima in that aspect, definitely, which is a huge accomplishment. he has great accuracy, his blocks are pretty decent and he's a fine server. he rivals me in overall talent — even though with setting, receiving and serving, i stand above him.

he stares at me when i serve, with something in his eyes that i can't quite explain. not admiration, but close — the way you'd think your friend is great, and you think, 'i'm glad you're my friend'. it sends chills down my spine, and the urge to grab him by the collar and press my lips against his grows and grows until i can feel my skin crawl and my stomach turn whenever i catch him in my sight.

we win. almost surprisingly, and i high five him after, everyone silently congratulating each other. the atmosphere holds a sense of surprise; a sense of surprise that originates from the surprising duo that we became when we worked together.

"how did you do it?" yahaba asks me after the game as i'm gulping down water, tired but fulfilled.

"do what?"

"do that. with him. that was... mesmerizing."

"how so?" i ask, setting the water down, wiping my face with my favourite soft towel.

"he's deaf, oikawa-san, he's deaf and somehow you two can communicate so well. he's just — there whenever you expect him to be. and you don't even tell him to be there." he smiles softly. "i hope i can be like you. a talented setter, that can communicate like that, without even having to."

"it's not me, yahaba-chan," i smile, "it's him. he's amazing. and there's something about him... that just works."

"he thinks you're pretty," yahaba blurts out. my eyes widen, and i look over at him.

"huh?"

"i mean, uh... he told me. he said he thinks you're beautiful when you smile," yahaba mumbles, looking away, "sorry, i blurted it out. i shouldn't have—"

"he really said that?" i ask him. he slowly nods.

"he told me this morning."

"he thinks i'm beautiful," i laugh, "he thinks i'm beautiful. not pretty, beautiful." i look over at him, as he's sitting on a bench a bit further down. "thank you, yahaba-chan."