The first year bowed low. "Arigatou gozaimashita, Oikawa-senpai!"

Oikawa blinked before letting a big smile stretch across his face as he wiped a bit of sweat off his temple. "No need to thank me, Hiro-chan! I take training my kohai very seriously, you know! You're very good! If you keep it up, you might even make first string."

Hiro scurried around picking up stray volleyballs off the gym floor, seemingly set on completing the task so quickly that Oikawa wouldn't have to lift a finger to help. "I doubt that, Oikawa-senpai. Our libero is very good."

"You are too."

"I was only able to receive a few of your serves," said Hiro. "They really are amazing."

"I work too hard for them not to be, Hiro-chan! Now, go get some dinner before the Shakudou closes."

"How did you–?"

"It takes one to know one," said Oikawa softly. "It's a bad habit, one I'm trying to break. Don't take after me in that respect. Eating is important if you want to get stronger. Now, go eat. I'll take care of the rest here."

Hiro bowed and thanked him once more before hurrying out of the gym and to the locker room to grab his things while Oikawa gathered the rest of the balls and took down the net. It was well past dinner, but Iwaizumi usually had something for him at the apartment if he got home late–

Unless it was Wednesday. Shit, was it Wednesday? Iwaizumi had his lab on Wednesday nights from eight to eleven, so they'd both be hungry and getting home around the same time. He'd have to stop and get takeout on the way–

"–so annoying."

"How long were you two in there?"

Oikawa stilled at the deep sounds of Ichou and Satsu's voices, the sarting libero and second string setter of Waseda's university team.

"Um, just an hour." That was Hiro, meek with discomfort.

"God, I hope he fucking injures his knee again," said Satsu. "Then maybe I'd actually get to play."

"You've been on the team longer," said Ichou. "You deserve to be starting setter. You work harder than that airhead, anyway."

"I think Oikawa-senpai works hard," said Hiro, quiet. "And coach picks players based on how they perform, not–"

"Don't tell me you think you can do it too?" said Ichou, his voice syrupy with disgust. "Swoop in and take the first string spot from your upperclassman?"

"I don't think that!" cried Hiro and Oikawa moved to step in–

"You think the rest of the team doesn't already hate him for that?"

Oikawa froze.

"He's such a fucking arrogant prick. Flaunting his fangirls and his stupid, annoying voice, and fucking touching everybody all the time. Who fucking does that? He should keep his gay-ass hands to himself. It makes us all uncomfortable."

"I don't…" said Hiro, seeming to be struggling for words. "I mean, he doesn't–"

"He's a second year," said Satsu. "I had to wait two years to make first string, and he took it from me in three months. He didn't earn it. He didn't put in the time, sweat, and blood for this team, like I did. He thinks he's at the top of the fucking food chain with his sports scholarship and his fan club, but he hasn't even realized his own teammates hate him."

Oikawa could feel the words steadily hammering themselves deeper into his skin.

"And the way he analyzes you," said Ichou, "all your strengths and weaknesses. It's invasive and creepy.

"He's a stuck-up, selfish, entitled brat who needs to grow the fuck up," said Satsu. "I know you idolize him, but come on. Even you have to see how fucking childish and weird he is?"

Hiro stammered. "I mean, I guess he can act a bit immature sometimes–"

Oikawa left.

It wasn't so much a surprise as… confirmation.

He did have trouble syncing with the upperclassmen sometimes, and perhaps this was why. It wasn't about his skills as a setter, like he'd feared, it was him as a person. Was that better or worse?

He wondered if they all hated him. The way those two spoke certainly suggested that they weren't alone in their opinion, and they were already well on their way to convincing Oikawa's sweet little kohai that Oikawa wasn't worth the trouble. It wasn't fair that they couldn't just hate him and leave it at that, but they had to drag Hiro-chan into it and corrupt one of the few teammates at Waseda that Oikawa really, reallyliked.

Oikawa decided against stopping for takeout. He'd lost his appetite, and he was pretty sure there were leftovers in the fridge for Iwaizumi.

The apartment was empty when he got home. He stood in the genkan, unsure what to do with himself.

'–hasn't even realized his own teammates hate him–'

'–should keep his gay-ass hands to himself–'

'–annoying voice–'

'–stuck-up, selfish, entitled–'

'–arrogant–'

'–childish and weird–'

The worst part was, most of what they said was true. It wasn't even Oikawa's first time hearing them.

But–

'–his own teammates hate him–'

'–gay-ass hands–'

Those were new.

Had he been blind at Aoba Johsai? Had he made his teammates uncomfortable? Did he touch people too much?

Oikawa pulled out his old match DVDs and hunkered down in the dark with his headphones, laser focused on the screen of his laptop as he curled up on the couch.

"Nice kill, Makki!" A slap on the shoulder.

"Nice block, Kindaichi!" A pat on the back.

"Don't mind, don't mind." A reassuring touch to Watari's forearm.

He touched people a lot.

And Iwa-chan. "Nice! Iwa-chan!" A high-five. "Yoshaaa!" A slap on the back. "Iwa-chan, you were amazing!" Pulling him across the court. Touching him. Constantly. A hand there. A light touch there. Tackling him in a hug from behind after they won. An arm over his shoulders if they didn't.

Had his teammates at Aoba Johsai hated him as well? Had Iwa-chan–

His headphones were pulled off his head. "Oi. I asked if you ate anything?"

Oikawa looked up at Iwaizumi, feeling drained. He opened his mouth to say something along the lines of 'are you my mom, Iwa-chan?' but the words wouldn't come.

Iwaizumi frowned. He still had his bag hiked over his shoulder. He must have just gotten home. "Why are you being weird?" He looked at Oikawa's laptop screen and huffed, annoyed, sinking onto the couch next to him. "You're upset."

Even now, his instinct was to lean in close to Iwaizumi, to burrow into him–

And he knew why, dammit–

'–gay-ass hands–'

Because every single thing they'd said had been true.

"Iwa-chan," said Oikawa, soft and sad. Iwaizumi's brow furrowed. "You'd tell me if you hated me, right?"

Now Iwaizumi just looked pissed. "Where the hell is this coming from?"

"And… the team. Back home. They… Did you all just put up with me because… because I was a good setter, or because I was Captain?"

"Shut the fuck up."

Oikawa jolted.

"I've never heard such garbage come out of your garbage mouth," said Iwaizumi. "Who the hell has been feeding you with this crap? I'm gonna break their fucking legs–"

"Iwa-chan!"

"We didn't put up with you, Oikawa. You're a good person and a good player."

"That's not–"

"Who said something to you that's got you thinking like this? Huh?"

Oikawa couldn't keep up. "Just– Some people on the team were just–"

"What did they say?"

"It's– It's not important now, I was just–"

"Oikawa, what the fuck did they say to you?"

Oikawa stood. "I said it's not important–"

"Of course it is!" said Iwaizumi, jumping to his feet.

Oikawa took a step back, his eyes burning.

"Look at you," said Iwaizumi, softer. "It's… Of course it's important, Oikawa. You're important. So just… get over yourself and tell me–"

"They said I touch people too much," said Oikawa, his voice shaking. "They said I should keep my… my gay-ass hands to myself, and that I make people uncomfortable."

"That's a load of crap," said Iwaizumi, dismissing it easily. "If you made us uncomfortable, we would have said something. Now, what else?"

"What… else?"

"It takes more than that to send you spiraling. What else?"

"They said everyone on the team hates me because I didn't earn my place. That I don't work hard. Said they wished I'd injure my knee again so I couldn't play–"

"They said what?"

"It's not a big deal–"

Iwaizumi looked furious. "Was it the other setter? It fucking was, wasn't it?"

Oikawa had to look away from the fire blazing in his eyes. "Why are you so angry?"

"You… You're kidding, right?" Oikawa didn't answer. "Oikawa, you–" Hands grabbed Oikawa's face, guiding him to meet Iwaizumi's gaze once again. "You realize he's just jealous, right? You come in, fresh out of high school, and you blow him so far out of the water he has no chance of ever getting back in the pool. You became starting setter in months. Everything that bastard said is because he'll never be as good as you."

Oikawa felt a tear break away and roll down his cheek, but Iwaizumi was quick to wipe it away. "Did they say anything else?" Oikawa shook his head, still captured by Iwaizumi's grip. "You're sure?"

"No, they… just called me a few names, but–"

"Tell me."

Oikawa's cheeks were starting to burn. "Iwa-chan, this is embarrassing."

Iwaizumi just raised his brow.

Oikawa huffed. "They called me arrogant. Selfish, childish, annoying, weird– The usual. You call me those things all the time."

"Yeah, but you know I'm joking."

Oikawa blinked.

"Oikawa, please tell me you know I'm joking."

"I…"

"Oikawa–"

"I mean, it's all true, isn't it?" said Oikawa, his voice small. "I know I'm… difficult to be around–" He yelped as he was pulled into a fierce hug.

"You idiot," said Iwaizumi.

"You can't tell me they're not true," said Oikawa, clutching at Iwaizumi's back with trembling hands.

"Not all the time," said Iwaizumi. "And even when they are, it's… endearing."

Oikawa felt his face flush. "What?"

"You're a good person, Oikawa," said Iwaizumi. "You're selfish sometimes, but so is everybody else. And you're arrogant because you're so damn good, but you also somehow never believe you're good enough, which I've never understood. I know I say you're annoying, but… if you weren't there to annoy me every day, I think I'd be kinda lost."

"Iwa-chan–"

"And you can be childish, but that's not a bad thing. Like I said, it's endearing. You are weird, though."

Oikawa let out a startled laugh, tears in his eyes.

"Nothing we can do about that one. You are one-hundred percent the strangest, most wonderful person I've ever met."

Oikawa choked out a sob into Iwaizumi's shoulder and clutched him tighter.

"So screw that bastard setter and anyone else who is too fucking petty to realize that."

"Iwa-chan…"

"You asked me if I'd tell you if I hated you. Would you tell me if you loved me?"

Oikawa froze.

"Because sometimes I think you do. And I'd tell you I loved you back, if I was ever sure, but you're so… confusing sometimes." Iwaizumi's voice shook with nerves. "I never know where I stand with you."

Oikawa hummed, warmth filling him up to his very core, the harsh words that had hammered themselves into him falling away, piece by piece. "I think it'd be impossible for me not to love Iwa-chan."

A breath of relief over Oikawa's shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." They stayed locked in their peaceful embrace for a moment more– "And of course it'd be impossible for Iwa-chan to not love Oikawa-san."

Iwaizumi barked out a short laugh. "You think so, huh?"

"Iwa-chan thinks I'm endearing."

Iwaizumi pulled back from the hug to see Oikawa beaming and shoved him away with a hand in his face. "So annoying."

"But endearing!"

"Such trash."

"Endearing trash!"

"You fucking–" Iwaizumi kissed him.

And Oikawa felt invincible.