Day 280
"How come you don't want to be my girlfriend, Sawa-chan?"
The redhead focuses on her open gaming console, knitting her brows in agitation.
"Sawa-chan~" Oikawa's singsong voice pierces the air. "Did you hear what I said?"
A sigh escapes Sawa's parted lips. She brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, clamps her gaming console shut, and walks over to her bed where the brunette is lying sprawled out on his stomach. Their shoulders touch, and she glances at the open book sitting in front of him.
"I just don't want to be remembered as the girl who dated Oikawa Tooru," Sawa states plainly, fidgeting slightly with her fingers.
"Is there something wrong with that?" Oikawa pouts. "I mean, you're dating me."
"It's not really about you," the redhead replies, resisting the urge to sigh. "It's more like...that's not the only thing I want to be remembered for. Some guy's girlfriend."
"But you'll be remembered as Oikawa Tooru's girlfriend," he insists. "Not just some guy."
Narrowing her eyes, she shifts her gaze to her bedspread, "You keep making it about yourself, when it's really not about you at all."
And then, after taking a deep breath, she continues: "When people look back on this, they're just going to refer to me as another face in the sea of girlfriends you've had already. I'm just going to be a number to them."
"That's not true—"
"If it really matters that much to you," Sawa interjects, "then let's see where we are in a year. When we're both in college. I mean..."
Staring listlessly at outside the window, she rolls onto her back, "It's not like high school romances last, anyway."
A pause.
"You care too much about what other people think," Oikawa says, closing his book.
He decides to follow suit and roll onto his back.
Sawa shifts so that she's leaning against the crook of his shoulder, "You're probably right, but I can't help it. It's just who I am."
Day 458
Three months into college, Sawa decides to submit her work to a regional show at the art and design college nearby. It's a decision born of spontaneity and a little bit of stupidity, but she figures it's worth the hassle, considering her lighter workload and general boredom at her new school.
She invites almost everyone she knows.
Her new classmates at the university. Her old friends from Miyagi. Even her father. She doesn't actually expect all of them to show up (especially the ones that have to take the bullet train from Torono Town), but the excitement bubbles inside her stomach anyway.
She even extends an invite to Oikawa. But she manages to convince herself it's because she's being polite.
Sawa-chan [9:02am]: Oikawa-san! I know this is last minute, but I'm having an art show today. I'd really appreciate it if you'd stopped by, but if you can't, that's fine too.
At 3pm, the gallery begins to fill with students and their respective families. Sawa waits anxiously by her collection of pastel works.
The boy next to her has a collection of digital work, and the girl on her other side has a collection of paintings.
Sawa's collection is simple—an aesthetic introspective piece into her life in Miyagi. There are elements of abstract expressionism, but most of the hallmarks of living there are identifiable. The scenery is iconic, but she's focused mainly on the people living inside it.
The gears that keep the prefecture alive.
She watches sullenly as the girl next to her greets her parents when they enter the gallery.
Day 124
The room is cheesy and outdated.
Valentine's Day themed, even though it's Oikawa's birthday in the middle of July. Something about the red duvet and bedspread is almost off-putting, but he decides to accept the setting, albeit reluctantly. He figures it's a minor mishap in the grand scheme of what's about to happen. It's not like they'll be paying much attention to what's around them, anyway.
Oikawa's no virgin, so it undercuts the tension that might've initially settled between them when they start stripping their clothes. But it doesn't stop the anxiety from setting in anyway.
The pleasure of sex has been greatly distorted, Oikawa thinks. All those books and movies about sensuality were romanticized to ridiculous proportions. A glorification of an act that isn't so complicated at all.
It's probably because he's had everything handed to him. There's no thrill of learning the darker corners of his girlfriends' strange, little idiosyncrasies. It's not like he's ever cared enough to give a damn anyway.
He undresses Sawa slowly, hands wandering around her back for a clasp. She remains quiet, for the most part. It's her first time, so Oikawa understands. She's probably nervous, which means he'll have to take the mantle and lead the way.
Nothing new, really.
There's a strange vacancy in her face; she can't quite meet Oikawa's gaze, but she doesn't seem to mind when he manages to finally unclasp her bra.
He's not sure what to say, so the silence only exacerbates the anxiety. A bead of sweat looms over his eyebrow as his fingers ghost over her pale skin.
"We don't have to do this," he tells her, placing his hand over her shoulder. "If you're not comfortable."
It's startling, of course, how small she is in his grasp.
Hesitantly, Sawa places her palm against his chest. A small smile forms on her face, and in the dark, Oikawa can make out a faint blush on her cheeks.
Her hand travels all the way to the back of his neck, where she pulls him in for a kiss. It's intoxicating, of course, and Oikawa leans forward to deepen the kiss. His hands wind into her hair.
In a desperate attempt to quell the urge to completely ruin her, he grips the sheets of her bed, his knuckles fading white.
They lie in bed for a while, but Sawa is the first to get up.
"Did it hurt, Sawa-chan?" Oikawa asks, shifting onto his side to face her back.
The redhead grabs her button up and puts it on, "Just a little bit. At first."
Somewhere inside, Oikawa feels his stomach turn.
"C'mon," a smile lights up on Sawa's face and she extends a hand out. "Let's go, Tooru."
They show up at the air and space museum by the dock, much to Oikawa's surprise.
"Jjang!" Sawa motions to the entrance enthusiastically. "Happy birthday, nerd."
How she knows about his obsession with space travel, he'll never quite understand. He's not sure what makes him happier, really. The familiar air conditioned entrance of the museum, or the girl that made all this happen in the first place.
They spend most of the day perusing the facilities at their own pace. Sawa has little interest in the subject matter, but puts on an interested front for the sake of the brunette staring up at replicas of the space shuttles from the 1960s.
Oikawa notices, of course, and attempts to pique her interest by explaining to her years of pent up useless information accumulated inside his head. It's a half-measure, of course, but it's the sort of effort that makes her smile and want to learn more. She comments, somewhere down the line, that if he'd put half the effort he did into his studies, he probably wouldn't have failed calculus. To which he'd replied vehemently, it was one test!
At some point, they arrive inside an over-glorified dome titled the galactic hall. It's cheesy and ridiculous, but it's the kind of kitschy thing Oikawa knows Sawa would secretly enjoy.
The lights fade into pitch darkness and Oikawa feels her grab onto the hem of his jacket.
Artificial white lights blink from obscurity in the semblance of stars. There's a flash of purple haze that fades into darkness; another flash of deep indigo that fades just the same. A crackle of manmade thunder that lights up the sky for a fleeting moment.
Billions of years ago, the stars were born. Blaring and screaming to explode into dust. An amalgamation of supernovas and bursts of light. Erratic thunderstorms caught inside the smallest confines of space. An combination of spontaneous combustions and happenstance.
And then, the universe.
The earth.
Life.
"I really love you," Sawa says, as the artificial stars around them hurtle forward into oblivion.
It's the first time either of them have said it. It's laughable, considering how long it's been. But from the tone of her voice, she doesn't seem flustered.
It's the kind of statement she says with resolve.
Under the light of the universe, Oikawa smiles.
The stars blink.
He takes her hand in his. Kisses it.
"I really love you too, Sawa-chan."
He means it this time.
Day 367
It's been a day since Oikawa discovered the wall.
"Oi, pay attention," Iwaizumi chides as the blare of a truck horn sounds off into the distance.
Grabbing Oikawa by the scruff of his collar, he throws him towards the inner side of the road, farther away from the ongoing traffic. "You're going to get yourself killed, idiot."
"Oikawa-kun has his head in the clouds again," Shiori, his current girlfriend, pouts.
Suddenly, her attention veers off to the empty rack behind Oikawa's bike seat. A smile lights up on her face, "Oikawa-kun~ could you give me a lift to school?"
As she moves forward to take a seat on the bike rack, Oikawa places his hand over it, "Ah, it's broken, Shiori-chan. Sorry. Maybe next time."
A lie, of course.
Shiori looks taken aback, but since the brunette is actually unable to meet her gaze, she decides to let the matter go. Her grip tightens on the handle of her briefcase and she shifts her gaze to the open ocean.
Iwaizumi glances at the back of the bike where the ghostly outline of a very familiar looking redhead should've been sitting. And then he stares at the hasty brunette pushing the bike towards the downward slope of the hill.
He senses the tension between Oikawa and Shiori and does a light jog to speed ahead, "Oi. I'll catch up with you later."
As he vanishes into the distance, Oikawa slows down his pace so that Shiori is walking with him side-by-side.
He knows it's selfish.
Stupid, almost.
After all, she's just another girl who's gotten caught in the crossfire of his tumultuous relationship with his own feelings. It's always been like this, one way or another. Dating has always been somewhat of a past time for him. And as transient as his relationships were, breaking up felt like rehashing a wound every damn time.
"I think we should end this, Shiori-chan," he says.
And then, he watches as she breaks into a thousand pieces in front of him.
It's clockwork.
Almost.
But he understands that this is new for her. It's her first relationship, after all.
And while she might've been another passerby in the sea of faces he'd learn to forget about, he knew better than anyone else that first loves were usually the hardest to let go of.
Day 458:
8:00pm
The exhibition is close to closing. Still, no one has shown up.
Sawa finds herself sitting on the ground underneath her pastel collection, hugging her knees to her chest. By this time, most of the other families have left. There are a few loiterers here and there, but most of the art students are rolling up their work and getting ready to head out.
It can't come as much of a surprise. She'd moved around most of her life and she couldn't have expected her friends to go out of their way to attend something she wasn't even sure she'd loved.
Art wasn't her mainstay, after all; it would always be something that'd belong to her father.
"Oi, Sawari-san! Sorry I'm late. Had prep school."
From the entrance, Kuroo waltzes in wearing his school uniform. A bead of sweat runs down the side of his face as he lifts a white grocery bag in the air, "Thought you might be hungry. I brought pork buns!"
Almost instantaneously, tears well up in Sawa's eyes as she quickly pushes herself off the floor.
Sawa bolts towards him, bowing low as she nears, "T-Thank you for coming! I really appreciate it!"
"Ne, there's no need to be so formal," Kuroo says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "Anyway, can I see what you made?"
3:03pm
Oikawa pays a visit to Sawa's grandfather. It's been two months since he's seen the painting on the wall, but his feelings haven't changed. It must've been surprising, considering his rap sheet of fickleness.
Of course, it comes with ulterior motives.
He wants to know where Sawa is living now, what classes she's taking, the foods she likes. She'd mentioned missing home-cooked food, and he wants to put on a gesture of good faith for her. To reassure her. Some romantic fallacy he's spun up in his mind.
But when he arrives, there's someone already there.
A middle-aged man with long black hair pulled into a ponytail is standing by the old man's bed side.
"You haven't changed at all, Ogata," Sawa's grandfather seethes between gritted teeth. "Do you have any idea how Setsuna—"
"I'm out there making money," the man named Ogata states, brushing his ponytail flippantly over his shoulder. "You seem to forget that we were poor for a long time before we were able to afford what we could."
"Don't bullshit me with the excuses about money," the old man snaps, rolling his eyes. "That hasn't been a problem in years. Don't use it as an excuse to disregard your own daughter."
Ogata replies acidly, "You wouldn't understand—"
Oikawa clears his throat, injecting himself into the room.
Completely disregarding the tension, he puts on a smile, "I think Sawa-chan would appreciate it if you went to her art show tonight."
The man with the ponytail arches a brow, glancing at the old man, "Who's this kid?"
"Your daughter's boyfriend," Sawa's grandfather replies with half-lidded eyes, fanning himself nonchalantly.
Oikawa is tempted to speak up, but decides to lower his voice when he sees that he has more to say.
"I'm on a flight to Paris in four hours," Ogata states tartly, glancing at the watch strapped to his left wrist.
"You don't even care that she has a boyfriend," the old man snarls. "You didn't give a damn when she got a tattoo. And now, you don't even care that—"
Ignoring his father's words, Ogata puts on a polite smile, shifting his gaze to boy standing by the doorway, "Send Setsuna my regards, would you?"
Oikawa isn't sure what compels him to do it.
Maybe it's the tension hanging thick in the air; maybe it's the little bit of impulsivity that's been hidden underneath layers and layers of controlled chaos and aggression.
But as his fist flies across Ogata's face, the only thing he can think about is Sawa eating dinner by herself.
9:03pm
As Sawa gets ready to remove her work from the wall, the door of the front entrance opens again to reveal a middle-aged man wearing a pressed blazer and a pair of loose jeans covered in paint stains.
He's wearing a half-grin on his face and he moves towards the curator, "Oi, Setsuna."
And from the other side, Sawa, still standing firm next to her collection of pastel work, visibly blanches.
Suddenly conscious of the way she looks, she brushes a lock of hair behind her ear and tries desperately to straighten her posture so that she at least appears put-together.
"Tou-san," she says, almost breathlessly.
Ogata stops in front of Sawa's collection.
From his pocket, he fishes out a pair of glasses and puts them on. Glancing over the work, his face is blank, "This is your work, Setsuna?"
Sawa stares at him anxiously, "Yes."
"Hm."
There's a look of disapproval on his face that's divorced between something expectant and something disappointed, "There's no perspective. No theme. No cohesion," he says; and the corners of his lips tip up to form a smile. "What're you trying to say? Who are you targeting?"
"I—" Sawa starts, but cuts herself short as notices the purple bruise on the side of her father's face.
"Tou-san, what happened to you?"
Ogata grins, "An accident. You wouldn't believe it."
Oikawa [10:03pm]: If you're going to yell at me, I just wanted to let you know he came at me first.
Smiling slightly, Sawa writes up a quick text before opening the door to her apartment building.
Sawa [10:05pm]: I have no clue what you're talking about
Oikawa [10:05pm]: Oh
Oikawa [10:05pm]: Never mind then!
Sawa [10:06pm]: One last thing
Sawa [10:06pm]: Next time, you should avoid the jaw. In case you break your thumb or something.
As the door swings open, she hears a loud: "Jjang!"
Instinctively, Sawa shrieks, dropping her floor to the ground with a loud thump.
As she digests the scene in front of her, she realizes it's Oikawa. There's a table filled with familiar foods. How he managed to pinpoint her favorite dishes down to the cold dishes, she'll never quite understand.
"How did you get the keys to my apartment?" She snaps, dropping her bag to the ground.
"Well, you'd be surprised how generous jii-chan can be—"
But before he can finish, Sawa runs up and snakes her arms around his waist. Relenting a soft sigh, she presses her cheek against his chest.
"Oi, Sawa-chan—"
"Just let me have this, okay?" She says tartly, gripping him tighter. "You're warm, and soft, and I really like you."
"S-Soft?" Oikawa manages to muster out. "I'll have you know I'm a serious athlete!"
Day 500
After classes end, Oikawa bolts out the door of his classroom and heads to the train station in Torono Town.
It takes him two and a half hours to arrive in the city. Normally, he'd be pretty dumbfounded by the overstimulation of flashing lights, but he only has one thing on his mind this time.
It doesn't take him long before he arrives at the building where Sawa should be ending physics.
Ten minutes pass until he watches as groups of students begin to filter out through the front entrance of the building.
It takes him half a second to spot out the redhead heading towards the gate, chatting with some classmates next to her. Next to her is a girl with long dark hair, telling a story emphatically with exaggerated hand gestures.
Sawa looks happy. Genuinely.
Suddenly, he has second thoughts. Oikawa hesitates, hiding behind the gated entrance.
He doesn't know where the cold feet comes from. Maybe it's her new haircut, or maybe it's because she seems different from how she seemed in Miyagi. He can't quite put his finger on it, but it makes him reconsider meeting her.
"Tooru?"
How Sawa manages to manifest right next to him, he'll probably never understand.
He puts on a smile for the sake of politeness, "Sawa-chan~"
"Who's this?" The dark-haired girl next to her asks curiously. "A boyfriend?"
Oikawa's grin only widens, "Actually—"
"Not my boyfriend, Haruka-san," Sawa states dispassionately. Then, shifting her attention to the brunette, she asks, "What're you doing here? How'd you know I was here?"
"Did you lose your way?" The girl named Haruka asks cheerfully. "I can take you where you need to go."
"That won't be necessary," Sawa interjects.
"Isn't he adorable?" Haruka sighs happily. "Like a lost little puppy dog."
"Is that a good thing or bad?" Oikawa asks, scratching the back of his neck.
Haruka returns the smile, "Obviously, it's—"
Sawa shoots a glare that could've killed, "Oi! Don't flirt with my—"
Flustered, she cuts herself off.
"Your what?" Haruka echoes vaguely, arching a brow in confusion.
Biting down on her lower lip, Sawa snaps, "My not-boyfriend."
A fierce blush forms on Sawa's cheeks and she grabs Oikawa's hand, leading him towards the open street. The brunette isn't even able to utter a protest before she pulls him towards the path of the main campus.
He's tepid, and the feeling isn't remotely like him, but he follows behind her until they arrive in her apartment.
Slamming the door shut behind her, Sawa immediately grabs him by the nape of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.
She tastes like the purest form of sweet desperation. It completely intoxicates him; unable to actually squash his anxiety, he pulls her close. Devouring her. Hands winding up her hair. It must've been some kind of lucid dream, he thinks.
It's not like the first time. It's different, of course. Everything about it is wet and urgent.
Natural.
The way he unbuttons her blouse; the way she rips off the belt holding up his pants; the way she wraps her legs around his waist; the way he puts her on the marble countertop of her kitchen; the way he pulls off her underwear from underneath her skirt; the way he feels inside her; the way she pulls him closer and closer. An action torn between shameless desperation and pent-up anxiety.
It's probably the most beautiful moment he's had in a long time.
The truth is, there's no certainty in the future. As he lays next to her in bed, he realizes this. In their most naked and empirical form, one thing seems pretty clear. They love each other, for whatever that's worth. It's not perfect, but it is what it is.
"I really hope I can marry someone like you in the future," Sawa says, breaking the silence.
It's not a vow worth saying aloud. She probably already knows at this point, anyway. Oikawa's feelings haven't changed, and they probably won't for a while.
But he's not looking toward the future. It's not the kind of mantra he wants to practice. He's just not the kind of boy who lives for tomorrows.
"You could just marry me, Sawa-chan," Oikawa says breezily.
Sawa sits up, pulling on her pressed white shirt. Putting on a smile, she tells him, "To be honest, it's still hard for me to tell when you're being serious or not."
He sits up next to her. He wants to open his mouth to reply something snarky but decides against it, in the end. She should know better than anyone else at this point.
Sawa's the only girl who's ever bothered to look past the facade he's been wearing, after all.
The redhead pulls her hair into a ponytail.
Standing up, she reaches a hand out eagerly, "C'mon. Let's go, Tooru."
THE END
Note: thanks for sticking with this. S/o to Ania, who's the best :)