The pounding squeaks of shoes on the waxed gymnasium floor. The thick stench of sweat, and the cologne inappropriately used to cover it. The taste of adrenaline with every connection he made during a match.
Volleyball. Oikawa lived and breathed the game. It was rare to find him without a ball in his hands, even off the court. He was always tossing it up to himself, spinning it between broad palms, walking two fingers over its surface while it rolled beneath his hand. It was just a part of him.
He always liked that when people thought of Oikawa Tooru, they thought of the sport the loved. He was the ambitious first year, the hard-working second year. He was always pushing, pushing, pushing himself to do better, to be the best. Then came his third year, when he not only became captain of his team, but he also met Kageyama. .
Cute little Kageyama, with his wide canvas of talent and his eager, unshaded expression. He was still young, fresh cut and green compared to his seniors, but oh hell was he good for his age. It was… almost endearing to have the kid trail after Oikawa, asking for praise and advice for how he did in practice. It was always "Oikawa-san, were my receives steady enough today?" or "Oikawa-san, I blocked that last spike pretty well, right?" or "Show me how to serve like you do, Oikawa-san." Oikawa-san, Oikawa-san, Oikawa-san.
The third year wasn't unused to the adoration. He'd had players look up to him before like this. But somehow, in some way, Kageyama was different. Oikawa just had to look at that blankly happy face and it tore him. He didn't know if he wanted to roll the younger boy up in a blanket, coddle, and keep him all for his own; or if he simply wanted to see him break.
He didn't know what he wanted, and that was something he hated.
The conflict built up to a tension which, to his own horror, manifested in the form of a flat palm aimed to strike the first year's cheek. The shocked look on Kageyama's face, Iwazumi's scolding grasp on his wrist, it was... Scary. Oikawa wasn't one to lay a violent hand on another, and it scared him that he'd almost done just that.
After that, things were different. Kageyama didn't trail behind him, like an eager puppy wanting to play fetch. He didn't ask the older boy about his stance when he made a set, or how to time a serve. The two only drew further apart from each other.
It seemed he'd gotten part of what he wanted- he'd broken something- Kageyamas trust, maybe- and that too, was something Oikawa hated.
He hated that he still wasn't sure what he wanted from the other boy. Was it his adoration? His incessant need to please? Something else; something more?
He hated that he was even looking to Kageyama for these things, despite not knowing what he hoped to find.
/AN: One day late but this is for day 1 of oikage week! Thanks to my beta, magicsintheair!/