It was like being dropped into a tank full of piranhas, but when you land, the vicious little fishes turned out to be stuffed. It wasn't a bad experience after all, and you don't mind it. You don't even want to get out.
Instead of the blaring cacophony of noise that Oikawa expected, it wasn't… half bad. It took Oikawa ten measures to realize that these weren't a bunch of high school amateurs. His ears twitched, and he could pick up all of the accurately placed accents, the excellent intonation, and the communal dynamic contrast. They weren't bad at all.
About halfway through the piece, Oikawa settled and scanned the room, hoping to catch glimpses of anyone else he thought looked familiar. There was Iwaizumi, puffing away on his baritone sax in front of him. Beside him was Kuroo Tetsuro, a clarinetist Oikawa recognized from high school. Looking out a little further, he recognized Daichi Sawamura in the concertmaster's seat, and Sugawara Koushi beside him. Completing the first row of the first violin section was a tall man with long hair, which he kept in a bun behind his head. What was his name again? Asahina, or something. Eyes skipping over the second violins and violas, he saw the huge Aone Takanobu hunched over his equally huge double bass, eyebrow-less brows furrowed in concentration. Oikawa recalled his old deskmate nicknaming him the "iron metronome", referencing his solid, steady bass notes. A head of blonde hair sprouted from the cellist sitting in front of him. Oikawa didn't recognize him, but there was something intriguing about the way his face remained perfectly still and blasé as he drew his bow heavily across the strings.
Then Kageyama met Oikawa's glance from the lead cellist's chair, and glared back for a second. Focus on the damn music. Oikawa thought that he might have been annoyed, because all of a sudden, he lost control and an unearthly sound issued from his trumpet. Fuck you, Tobio. Everyone probably thinks that he's a total amateur now. He swore that he could hear Bokuto sniggering beside him. Swallowing his annoyance, Oikawa pushed through the last few bars, and was relieved when Ukai ended the piece.
Iwaizumi twisted around, rolling his eyes. "What the hell was that, Tooru? It sounded like the potential child of an animate foghorn and a hyena with indigestion." Oikawa shrugged apologetically, sticking his tongue out and flicking up a peace sign to mask his irritation.
"That was…" Ukai paused. "That was mediocre. We have lots of things to work on."
Mediocre? That's a first.
Oikawa's arms were sore when the rehearsal finally ended. Ukai worked them hard, even though it was the first session as a new group and even though they're not used to playing together. As he snapped his trumpet case closed, he noticed the blonde cellist thread his way through the crowd to Kuroo, and upon reaching him, take his hand and plant a light kiss on his lips.
"Jeez," Oikawa sighed. "How come a tall lanky guy like him get a boyfriend, and I'm just rotting at the bottom of the trash heap?" He clasped his hand to his chest for dramatic effect, and pretended to swoon.
"Because," Iwaizumi grumbled, swatting Oikawa's shoulder, "you are total and complete garbage, Trashykawa. Also, there's plenty of girls waiting on you. It's your own fault that you never give them anything besides a selfie, you egotistical bastard."
Iwa-chan, I don't like girls. You know that, right…!?
Someone cleared his throat. Oikawa spun around with a sweet smile plastered to his face, ready to socialize with a fellow musician as long as he wasn't…
"Ah, Kageyama-kun!" Iwaizumi patted the sullen cellist on the back. "Did you want to talk to Oikawa here? Well, I'd better get going. Wouldn't want to miss my, uh, family dinner. See ya, Tooru!" Before Oikawa could say a word, stupid Hajime and his bari sax were out the door.
Is he leaving? Hey, Iwa-chan! You're supposed to be taking me h-
"Oikawa-san."
Oikawa let all the air escape from his lungs before replying in a weak voice. "Yes, Kageyama-kun?"
How does he know my name?
"Why do you hate me so much?"
Man, this guy is blunt.
Oikawa scratched his head uncomfortably, hesitating before deciding to tell the truth.
"Because you beat me last year with your lame Elgar cello concerto."
Kageyama cocked an eyebrow. "Lame, Oikawa-san?"
Oikawa sighed melodramatically. "It was a shock, having you pound my Haydn into submission with your fat violin." He gripped the handle of his trumpet case, ready to make a run for it."
"If it was lame, Oikawa-san," Kageyama quipped, "then how did we manage to take first place, and you second?"
Ah, he got me.
"Gah," Oikawa coughed lamely. "Stop, uh, stop saying my name in every single sentence, will you?"
"I like saying your name, Oikawa-san. It feels good."
Oikawa barely registered the heat of blush on his cheeks before he mumbled a quick excuse and jogged out the door as quickly and casually as he could.
