Chapter Text
For a while, Oikawa successfully avoided thinking about anything by throwing himself into volleyball. They had a tournament coming up soon--well, not in the immediate future, but close enough that he had justification for pushing his team and himself harder. He pulled many of the first and second years aside for 1-on-1 conversations on how to get them past whatever issues were giving them difficulty, he picked out a few people to practice specific skills with him outside of regular practice, and he requested more meetings with the coaches to work out a strategy for the upcoming season.
One advantage of being the captain for a university rather than a high school team was he received very little push-back on the increased intensity. What little grumbling could be heard was contradicted and drowned out by the insistent support of Iwaizumi and Ushijima.
Oikawa wasn’t surprised that Ushijima supported him in driving his team harder, but it did make him feel all the more guilty. And then he thought about Ushijima saying he’d prefer to be captain himself, and anger added to the guilt. Oikawa wanted to confront him about it, wanted to know if that was still how he felt, and he also wanted to avoid talking to Ushijima about anything personal ever again.
But at the same time he felt acutely the absence of all their online conversations. It was stupid, the way he missed it. He hadn’t been able to be himself when they’d talked, so why should he miss it? What was there to miss?
Iwaizumi, of course, noticed that Oikawa was sulking and moping whenever they weren’t at practice or discussing the team. A couple days passed of Iwaizumi passive-aggressively frowning at him and Oikawa passive-aggressively refusing to ask what he was so concerned about. Then Oikawa finally snapped and snarled out, “What? What is it?” in response to Iwaizumi standing in his bedroom doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, glowering.
“Why don’t you tell me? You skipped dinner again today and it’s been days since I’ve seen you smile at anyone other than first years who need hand-holding.”
Oikawa thought about misdirecting, about picking yet another fight about Iwaizumi spending all his time with Kazu instead of him. But that might lead them back to the same underlying topic, anyway, so what was the point. He abandoned the textbook he’d been half-heartedly studying and fell back onto his bed with a groan.
“I’m fine! I just hate myself and I’m going to die alone.”
“Oh, good, so really manageable problems then.” The bed creaked as Iwaizumi sat on the edge, patting Oikawa’s shin consolingly. “Why is this stuff coming up for you now?”
Oikawa considered what he could tell Iwaizumi that wasn’t the truth or anything that would lead him to guessing the truth. “I think I might be interested in someone, but I messed things up with him before I realized I was interested, and now it’s too late.”
“Wait, seriously? I didn’t even know you were trying to date, I thought you were ignoring my good advice there. Who are you talking about?”
“No, I wasn’t trying to date him, I just--ugh, never mind.” Even this much honesty had been a terrible idea.
“Sounds complicated,” Iwaizumi said, in a voice that meant he couldn’t fully sympathize unless Oikawa told him the whole story.
Oikawa flopped his arm over his eyes, blocking out the room. “It’s nothing. I’m not going to do anything about it so it’s just something I need to move on from.”
“Uh, if you say so.” The bed creaked again and now Iwaizumi was lying down next to him, shoulder to shoulder. They were silent for a while and it was nice, simple and familiar. Oikawa could pretend that they were kids again, or in jr. high or high school. Any time but here and now with his current mistakes.
Naturally Iwaizumi ruined it. “If you want to move on, going on dates with other people would probably help with that.”
“Ugh, no.”
“I’m just saying. If nothing else it would be a distraction, right? Did you ever give OkCupid a try?”
Oikawa groaned. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Iwaizumi refused to talk about something else until Oikawa agreed to at least think about trying online dating again. And true to his word, Oikawa had the best intentions towards actually creating a real profile for himself. He filled out each section of the profile with answers that he thought were honest and genuine--as genuine as it was possible to be on an online dating profile. He answered the questions with his own opinions, preferences and experiences. He got a perverse sense of bitter satisfaction when he checked Ushijima's profile and found that when he did this as himself, they were only 75% compatible, a far lower match percentage than Ushijima had had with any of the other profiles Oikawa had created.
He got to the point of choosing photos for his profile and hesitated, and the hesitation turned into an extended pause, and the pause turned into minimizing the tab, closing his laptop and going for a walk instead.
He didn't want to finish. It wasn't about the photos themselves--Oikawa was very photogenic and had any number of handsome recent pictures to choose from. But putting his own face on a profile meant admitting to whoever might see it that he was putting himself out there, that he wanted to date someone, find someone, be with someone.
God, what if Ushijima came across his profile and messaged him, like he'd done on Tinder? That seemed like a real possibility, and it made Oikawa's stomach churn. If Ushijima asked him out for real then Oikawa would have to figure out whether or not he wanted him or if he was just obsessed because he was a creep. Also, then he'd know for sure that he'd spent the last month elaborately lying to someone who had feelings for him, which made him pretty terrible no matter what way you looked at it.
Oikawa just wasn't ready to be direct yet, couldn't be, not with Ushijima and most likely not with anyone. He could probably keep a therapist happily employed for quite some time unpacking the reasons why, but correct analysis was the first step towards changing or, worse, being forced to change. Oikawa wasn't interested in that. He'd rather continue making self-destructive choices based on primal fears, thanks.
He got back to the apartment and back to his computer and removed any details from the profile that would have identified him as himself, although he kept in as much of his original answers as he could. He chose a random model that had some features similar to his own and added his pictures to the profile. He changed the username to something more anonymous.
He wasn’t actually trying for anything with this profile, he told himself. He didn’t have a goal in mind. It wasn’t like before. He was just going to talk to Ushijima in the closest guise he could get to his genuine self, and in the process maybe he’d figure some things out about himself and how he felt and what he should do about it.
It was laughably pathetic that he needed a different persona just to talk to his teammate. Oikawa tried to carefully stow his self-awareness away in a box in a far corner of his mind, to be dealt with later if at all.
This time, when his messages with Ushijima turned to volleyball Oikawa introduced himself as the cousin of one of Ushijima’s teammates, Oikawa Tooru. Oikawa Satoru had grown up in Miyagi, too, and now lived a couple of hours outside Tokyo, but visited the city regularly and recognized Ushijima from the few times he’d gone to watch his cousin play in high school tournaments.
Exchanging these messages felt different from the previous times, when Oikawa had always been thinking ahead, planning what to say to get Ushijima to react this way or that, figuring out how to stay in-character while also being seductive. Now he could say almost whatever he wanted--as long as he was careful to change any details that might be too identifying, he didn’t have to hide his own personality or circumstances behind a mask. His cousin Satoru had grown up in Oikawa’s town, knew Iwaizumi, was familiar enough with Tokyo from his visits.
Oikawa hadn’t intended to give his fake cousin a sports background, but on their third day of messaging back and forth he watched his own traitorous hands bring up the subject of innate talent vs. hard work. He ended up confessing all these hard-won, painful lessons he’d learned about ambition and acceptance and talent and loss, memories that he kept locked tightly within and didn’t share much with anyone, only Iwa-chan and only because he’d been there for all of it. Oikawa was surprised to find how much he wanted to talk about it once he switched the sport from volleyball to baseball, and further surprised to find that Ushijima had thoughtful things to say in response.
It was probably just because they were communicating via text. If Oikawa had started telling him such personal things face-to-face, surely Ushijima would have interrupted him, or bluntly disagreed, or looked at him with the blank coldness that Oikawa had seen at the end of each match he’d lost to Shiratorizawa since Jr. High.
Ushijima was telling him things about himself, too. More than he’d told any of the other accounts Oikawa had created. Oikawa read about Ushijima’s father defending him for being left-handed when he was a child, and about how Ushijima had modeled his whole approach to volleyball after his father’s experiences and stories. Oikawa tried to recall all the times he’d previously heard Ushijima reference his father--had his face looked any less stony than usual, was his voice any less deep and calm when he talked about this person who had influenced him so much?
Once, just once, the subject of Oikawa came up, but for the first time this wasn’t because he’d been fishing for Ushijima’s opinions about him. They were talking about living in the country vs. living in Tokyo. When Ushijima listed the things in the city that had helped his homesickness, he listed his houseplants, the books that he’d kept from childhood, and having people around that are also from Miyagi, like your cousin and Iwaizumi Hajime.
Really? It’s interesting that you say that, Oikawa typed back immediately. I thought you didn’t play on the same team as them in high school.
That’s true, we didn’t. But they’re still people I have known for a long time. When I first started at this school I was alone, and I felt very lost in such a huge city. It was a comfort to see them around and play volleyball with them because I knew them already. They’ve been a connection to home and to my childhood.
There was a strange, constricted feeling in Oikawa’s throat. He had never before considered that when he looked at Ushijima, he was looking at years of history, a shared past, someone he’d grown up with as much as he’d grown up against. He felt immature knowing that Ushijima had come to this realization about them first.
I love my cousin, but he can be such an asshole sometimes. Probably better to keep plants around if you need keepsakes from the country.
Ha ha ha. We don’t always get along and he can be childish, but so can I. I’m glad he is on my team.
It was not, ‘I’m glad he is my captain,’ but it was more than Oikawa had expected. He caught himself grinning at his phone screen and bit his lip, putting his phone in his pocket and delaying his next response until later that evening.
They exchanged several messages a day most days, and Oikawa was startled to realize that this had been the case for more than two weeks now. Unlike all of Oikawa’s previous attempts, Ushijima had yet to politely end things. Oikawa wasn’t sure what accounted for the difference; it was possibly because Oikawa’s cousin didn’t live in Tokyo, so there was no assumption that all this talking was naturally leading up to a date, and Ushijima felt no obligation to communicate his unavailability before an in-person date could be suggested. Or maybe he liked talking to someone from back home, someone who made him feel nostalgic.
One night Oikawa had fallen into step beside Ushijima and a couple of other teammates as they left the gym together after practice. Ushijima was not participating in the group’s casual conversation, which was not in itself unusual, but he seemed to be distracted by his phone; he was typing out a message and smiling. He finished typing and put his phone away, his smile growing wider as he looked up at the smoggy city sky and all the stars that light pollution made invisible.
Oikawa pressed his palm to his phone through his pants pocket, wondering if it was just now lighting up with a new message, wondering if he could check it without arousing suspicion. Then Ushijima glanced his way and their eyes met, and the serene expression on Ushijima’s face grew tight. He looked away, and for a moment Oikawa’s chest seized with panic that he’d been caught staring, and that Ushijima now thought--something or other.
But then Ushijima glanced back at him, color in his cheeks, and Oikawa realized that he was embarrassed, and that he wanted something.
Oikawa slowed his pace and let the other players walk in front of them. Ushijima cleared his throat.
“Oikawa. You have a cousin, Satoru.”
Oikawa looked at him and waited, but Ushijima seemed to be waiting for him to confirm. “Yes, that’s right. What about him?”
“Has he… ah, hm.” This was as close to flustered as Oikawa had ever seen Ushijima, and it was fascinating. He leaned in closer, peering at Ushijima from up close until Ushijima’s customary frown returned.
“Has he talked about me recently,” Ushijima finished gruffly.
Oikawa had briefly considered the possibility of a conversation like this when he’d first come up with the cousin idea, but that was weeks ago now, and in the time since he hadn’t been thinking much about the likelihood of Ushijima bringing it up. He didn’t exactly have a plan for how this should go.
But he’d be a terrible setter if he couldn’t strategize on the fly. “Huh… now that you mention it, he asked about you a few weeks ago. Just asked if my university’s ace was the same guy who had played against Seijoh in high school. He came to some of those tournaments when we were teenagers, so he remembered Shiratorizawa, I guess. Why?”
“Ah. Well… he and I have been talking lately.”
“Talking….?” Oikawa could be making this easier on Ushijima instead of feigning wide-eyed confusion, and perhaps if he hadn’t been compartmentalizing all guilt about this whole endeavor he would have been moved to show mercy. But Charitable Tooru was not currently in the building.
Ushijima licked his lips, his eyes darting around nervously. “We have been messaging each other on OkCupid.”
“Oh! Oh, you mean talking.”
“Yes,” said Ushijima, pained. “I know that Satoru does not live in Tokyo, but I have grown to like him. I…. what do you think about that?”
Flippant remarks and jokes about Ushijima dating his cousin had already formed in Oikawa’s head, but the direct question gave him pause, and any words in his mind dissipated like puffs of steam. He looked away, glancing at the trees lining the sidewalk up ahead, their leaves colorless in the dark.
What did Oikawa think about this? Oikawa hadn’t been letting himself think about it, not really.
“I think you’re probably too good for him. He’s related to me, after all.”
Ah. Here was Charitable Tooru. Or maybe this was Self-Sabotaging Tooru; they could be awfully similar sometimes.
Ushijima said nothing for a few moments, and Oikawa was too nervous to glance back and see his face, wasn’t sure he wanted to know how seriously Ushijima had taken Oikawa’s words. Of course it hadn’t been a joke, and of course Oikawa was too much of a selfish coward to warn Ushijima away with less subtlety.
“I’m surprised you think I’d be too good for anyone.”
A self-effacing joke in return? When Oikawa looked over there was a small, wry smile on Ushijima’s face. Oikawa smiled back.
“Aw, there are plenty of people I think you’re way too good for. Now, too boring is another story…”
Oikawa was pleased when Ushijima laughed, taking the joke in the spirit it was intended. “Of course. Am I too boring to date your cousin?”
“You don’t need my permission.”
“I’m not asking your permission. I suppose I just thought you should know.” Ushijima was stiff now, formal. It made it harder to divine what he was thinking and feeling, what he wanted. Oikawa squinted at him and Ushijima looked back, impassive.
“Ah. Well, thanks for telling me. I hope you two continue to get along!” Oikawa gave his cheeriest smile, ignoring the way uncertainty and guilt and fear were rattling around his chest like errant bones.
“I hope that as well.”
Ushijima’s face glinted and shifted in the lights from oncoming traffic, and for a moment Oikawa thought he looked sad. He was still looking at Oikawa, watching him. Oikawa carried their ongoing silence with each breath, filling his lungs with all the things he should be saying.
***
It was an indication of Oikawa’s worsening mental and emotional state that even after their last conversation, it somehow still took him by surprise when Ushijima asked him out--asked his cousin out, an important distinction.
I have enjoyed talking to you so much these past few weeks. Would you be interested in meeting in person the next time you’re in Tokyo?
Oikawa’s immediate reaction, much to his embarrassment, was a rush of shocked pleasure and excitement. And not just because he’d finally won at this absurd game he’d designed for himself, finally gotten Ushijima to go for one of his fake profiles. Only a very small part of him was feeling triumphant right now. Instead his whole body felt momentarily consumed by giddy warmth, his cells suddenly sparking with the elated confirmation of an infatuation returned.
Then the true horror of his situation caught up with him.
The person Ushijima had requested a date with did not exist. Even if Oikawa had mostly been himself throughout their conversations, Ushijima didn’t realize who it was he’d fallen for, and if he did--if he knew Oikawa truly, not just as his teammate and captain but as the person who’d been deceiving him for a whole season now--it was inconceivable that he’d still be interested.
Oikawa should confess. He should do it right now, should break character and tell Ushijima everything and hope that a few shreds of forgiveness could be granted. He should end this the way he should have ended it months ago. He should do the right thing.
He should not be already planning for how he could meet Ushijima in person in a datelike capacity without giving up his secret. He should not be typing out, Yes, I’d like that! It just so happens I was planning on a visit next weekend. Will you be available then?
The details fell into place effortlessly. Satoru would, of course, be staying with Oikawa, so Ushijima could come to Oikawa’s apartment to pick him up for their dinner date. Considering whose apartment it was, it wouldn’t be strange for Oikawa himself to answer the door and give the excuse that Satoru was running late but would be home in just a few minutes. He would be a good host and invite Ushijima in for tea while he waited, and they’d be able to talk. Oikawa would find a way to steer the conversation towards their growing friendship, or perhaps toward online dating, or perhaps toward their shared history, some topic which would hopefully allow him to come clean after giving a speech explaining why he was the way he was, or at least after driving the point home that his intentions, at least, were good.
He would tell Ushijima everything. Probably. Maybe.
***
By the time their agreed-upon date rolled around, Oikawa had been overthinking his whole life to such a degree that his entire week could possibly be considered an out-of-body experience. He woke up in the middle of the night on Friday and couldn't get back to sleep. Instead he just laid there staring up at his bedroom ceiling, fears and imagined conversations and worst case scenarios running through his brain so fast they couldn't be teased apart, so that each horrible thought flowed into the next like one long scream.
He grabbed his phone and sent a message to Ushijima, trying to type too quickly for his self-preservation instincts to catch up to what he was doing and question this.
This might seem like a really weird message from someone that you haven't even met in person yet, but I just need to say that I'm glad I got to know you these past few weeks. I really like you. The more we’ve talked the stronger my feelings for you have become. I don't know how tomorrow will go, or if you'll like me in person. But talking with you has been a special thing for me, and I won't forget your place in my heart, regardless of tomorrow's outcome. I don't mean to worry you, and you don't need to reply--you can tell me what you think in person if you like. I just had to get this off my chest.
It did not make him feel better, but it did help him sleep.
***
Iwaizumi was going to spend the night at Kazu’s place on Saturday, but unfortunately he left early in the afternoon, giving Oikawa far too many hours alone before dinner time to agonize and regret everything.
Their date was at 6pm; Ushijima rang the doorbell at 5:59. Oikawa answered in a t-shirt, jeans and house slippers, because of course he wasn’t dressed in preparation for a first date-- his plans for the evening consisted solely of studying at home while his cousin went out with his team’s ace.
Ushijima, on the other hand, was wearing a button-down shirt (at least it had short sleeves) and nicer jeans, and loafers. He looked like he could be someone’s father. Oikawa was helplessly into it. This was going to be the worst night of his life.
“Ushiwaka-chan!” he declared in the entryway, loud and cheerful with all his internal turmoil buried deep. “How interesting to see you outside of practice. Satoru wanted me to communicate his profound apologies, he took the wrong train coming home from some errands, so he’s, ah, not actually home yet. But! He’ll probably be back any minute now, in the meantime why don’t you come in?”
Ushijima looked mildly overwhelmed already, and hesitated when Oikawa stepped aside and made a sweeping gesture to his empty dorm room. But then he said “Thank you, Oikawa” and walked in, and Oikawa could smell the faint scent of his cologne as he walked past.
There was a futon and a packed travel bag in the corner of the living room, to add to the illusion that Oikawa was hosting a guest this weekend. Not that it mattered, because Oikawa would be telling the truth at some point tonight, but he hadn’t been able to resist setting up the details.
He put on hot water for tea, and invited Ushijima to sit at his tiny living room table. “Sorry that I don’t have more to offer! Satoru only told me you were coming over once he realized he’d be late, so I didn’t have time to pick up any food or anything.”
“It’s fine. We’re supposed to go out for dinner, I wouldn’t want to ruin my appetite.”
Ushijima sat at the table but he looked uncomfortable, which of course was only natural given the situation he’d walked into vs. the situation he must have expected, but it made Oikawa feel worse. His smile was starting to feel plasticky and he had too much energy. He fought the urge to putter uselessly around the kitchen and instead sat down with Ushijima while they waited for the water to boil.
“So! I suppose congratulations are in order. You and Satoru, you crazy kids are making it work!”
“This is just our first date.” Ushijima sounded terribly, horribly awkward and stiff, even by his usual standards. He was sitting straight upright with his hands in his lap, looking down at the table. Oikawa had to figure out a way to make this better.
“Well, I’ve already had to come to terms with the possibility of you being a member of the family someday, and I don’t want to have gone through that effort for nothing, so I’m rooting for you.” Oikawa said it with a wink, but it had no relaxing effect. If anything, Ushijima just looked more miserable. Shit. Oikawa sighed.
“Waiting on a first date must suck, I know. I hate seeing a teammate in distress.” He reached over to pat Ushijima’s forearm consolingly, and Ushijima startled, his eyelashes fluttering as he looked up at Oikawa with wide eyes. “Talk to me, it’ll take your mind off the nerves. Tell me what you and my cousin have been discussing, has he told you more than you ever wanted to know about baseball?”
At last Ushijima cracked a smile. “He has mostly just told me about his experience and ambitions with the sport. I like hearing about it. We also talk about Miyagi, and college, our families and teammates. All the usual things you talk about when you’re getting to know someone.”
“That sounds nice. Here I had assumed that you two had just been bonding through sharing and comparing your least favorite things about me.”
This got him an actual laugh, and things became less awkward as the conversation moved to other topics, primarily volleyball. Oikawa got up to pour them tea when the kettle whistled. It struck him as more than a little stupid that even through his anxiety, he was enjoying this--just having Ushijima over, spending time with him in his home, the two of them hanging out without the context of practice or their other teammates.
Oikawa liked him. He liked him a lot. God, he was an asshole.
And he was running out of time. Very soon now it would start getting weird (well, weirder) how late his cousin was. Ushijima would get anxious again, and maybe wonder if he’d been stood up. If Oikawa was going to do… whatever it was he was going to do, he needed to do it soon.
But he couldn’t just come right out and admit everything, the ugly truth spilling out of him like a housecat spitting up a dead mouse onto its owner’s pillow. He’d have to work up to it. Somehow.
“So the thing about my cousin,” Oikawa said slowly. He fixed his eyes on his tea mug, fingers tracing the rim. “And I promise I’m not saying this to start trouble between you two, or anything like that. But Satoru can have some issues with, ah, honesty? Not that he’s a bad person or malicious! But he….. lies sometimes. Maybe more than other people, I think. It might be a compulsion sort of thing.”
Oikawa dared to glance up at Ushijima and saw that a distinct crease had appeared between his eyebrows and seemed to be deepening. He looked quickly away. “I just thought you should know. In case that sort of thing is…” A dealbreaker. “In case you see things like that as black and white.”
Ushijima did not answer immediately. He took a sip of his tea and then stared into his cup, expression unreadable. Oikawa felt like there were fire ants trying to crawl out of his lungs.
When Ushijima finally spoke his words were slow and measured. “Honesty has always been important to me. If someone was lying to me constantly that would be…. A concern. But I also believe that a good partnership with someone should mean that you consider the context of their actions. I suppose that means it’s not black and white for me.”
Before Oikawa could respond, Ushijima leaned forward intently. “I hope that eventually he feels comfortable telling me about the dishonesty issues himself. One of the things I like about him is how he is open about the things he sees as his faults. It makes me want to be open as well.”
Oikawa couldn’t help but stare a bit. That was maybe the longest string of non-volleyball-related words he’d ever heard Ushijima say at once. And apparently he wasn’t finished yet.
“There is so much that I like about your cousin. He’s very funny and smart and I just like the way he talks. He can make anything sound interesting. And even in our first conversations I found it was strangely easy for me to tell him things. As if I had this--this library of things in my mind that I was keeping to myself, and I never realized that he was the person I needed to say them to until we met.”
Ushijima stopped and leaned back in his chair with a flush on his cheeks. He seemed to realize how much he had just said and was now close-lipped, staring at the table’s edge. Oikawa wanted to say something to put him at ease. Or rather, he would get around to wanting that as soon as he was finished being shell-shocked.
“He’s, uh. He’s pretty lucky to have someone like you like him so much.”
Ushijima looked up, frowning. “I am lucky too. That’s what I was trying to say. Oikawa, do you… not like your cousin?”
Ouch. When had Ushiwaka gotten perceptive? “No, I just know him.”
“That…. Doesn’t sound good.”
“No, I--” Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to find his way back to clarity. “He’s a complicated guy. But I know he really likes you. He’s told me that much.” He opened his eyes, meeting Ushijima’s gaze head-on. “He’s told me that he likes your ambition and your drive, your confidence. He likes how deeply you care about things. He says it’s easy for him to open up to you, because he knows you’ll take everything he says seriously and be calm. And he likes that you tell him things that you won’t tell just anyone.”
They were still staring at each other and now it was Oikawa’s turn to sit there with his face flushed and his heart hammering. Ushijima’s mouth had fallen slightly open and he sat frozen, looking at Oikawa with confusion and surprise and something… something else.
This would officially now be weird and inappropriate if Oikawa really were here just to politely host his friend until his friend’s date showed up. It was now or never. He sat up straighter and cleared his throat, breaking eye contact so that he could think clearly. “Ushijima, listen--”
The sound of the door opening was quickly followed by the sound of Iwaizumi’s heavy footsteps and then his voice, loud and grumpy and horrifyingly familiar. “Ugh, Kazu got food poisoning, can you believe it? And he doesn’t want anyone else around while he pukes, I guess. --uhhhh hey, Ushijima.”
“Hello,” Ushijima says, standing awkwardly. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, I am just here waiting for Satoru to get back.”
"Who?" Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa, not alarmed or mad yet, just confused, still trying to catch up to the surprise of someone else being here. He didn't realize the destruction he'd just caused with a single hapless word. Iwaizumi was the kind of friend who'd pull through for you when it really mattered, no matter how much he might disapprove of your bullshit; whether it was burying a body or going along with a lie, Oikawa could always count on him to help out in a crisis and leave the yelling for later.
So Oikawa knew that as he stared at Iwaizumi with his face frozen in a horrible parody of a hospitable smile, as the dread in the room thickened with each silent second that passed, Iwaizumi was figuring out that this was the kind of situation where he needed to lie for Oikawa and yell at him later.
"I mean--uh--" Iwaizumi tried, but it was too late.
"Oikawa's cousin? Staying with you for the weekend?" Ushijima spoke slowly, frowning back and forth between them until his gaze settled on Oikawa, waiting for some explanation, waiting for Oikawa to make it right, although Oikawa could tell from the set of his shoulders that some part of him already knew that things were very wrong.
"I--" Oikawa could still save this. He could explain that Iwaizumi didn't know Satoru was staying for the weekend because he was supposed to have been at Kazu's starting from yesterday and going through Monday, so Oikawa hadn't bothered to tell him. And maybe Iwaizumi had a nickname for Satoru that he'd used since they were all kids, and he and Oikawa only ever referred to him by the nickname so Iwaizumi occasionally forgot his real name. And maybe Oikawa could excuse himself to take an emergency call from Satoru, who was trapped all the way across the city because there had been a fire on his train line, and he definitely wouldn't be able to make it so he needed Oikawa to apologize to Ushijima for him and cancel the date.
Thirty seconds ago he had been ready to confess everything, but not like this, not with so little control. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to start talking, start lying, to take things over and dig deeper into his terrible choices.
He couldn't seem to make words come out of his mouth, and he wondered what kind of look was on his face.
"Oikawa," Ushijima said. "What is going on?"
"I don't have a cousin named Satoru. Please, wait, let me explain," Oikawa said, the words rushing out of his mouth as he stood up, as Ushijima's whole body went stiff as a board. "The person you've been messaging on OkCupid--it was me the whole time, but I--"
"No," Ushijima said. "That's not--that can't be true."
Iwaizumi swore under his breath. Oikawa couldn't look at him, kept his eyes trained on Ushijima.
"I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you, tonight. I wanted to stop lying, I wanted to just--talk to you as myself--"
"Why did you start lying? Why--why do this in the first place?" Ushijima was looking between Oikawa and Iwaizumi in desperation, like he needed an escape route. Oikawa sympathized. He felt simultaneously far away from his body, like all this was happening to someone else, and horribly present, trapped in a moment in time with his panic being stretched taffy-like across this conversation.
"It started with other accounts." Oikawa rattled off his previous usernames, sicker by the second. He could feel Iwaizumi's stare burning into him but he couldn't look his way, couldn't face him. "I lied to you repeatedly, and I don't know why. I have no excuse. I wanted to see what it took to hold your interest. I was trying to figure you out."
"Figure me out? My--my interest? We're teammates!"
Oikawa had never heard Ushijima raise his voice before. Had never seen Ushijima upset, not like this, not agitated enough that he was backing away from Oikawa and Iwaizumi like they were threats, not stopping until his back bumped the kitchen counter. "You could have asked me anything, you could have talked to me instead of--playing this game, this joke!"
"It wasn't a joke!" Oikawa took a couple of helpless steps forward, but stopped when Ushijima shrank back even with nowhere left to go. "I know how it sounds, but I. I was confused, and Ushijima--everything that I told you as my cousin was true, I was being myself in every one of those messages, especially--" His throat worked around empty air, words sticking like glass shards. He spat them out. "My feelings for you. I meant every word I said about how I feel for you, and... and what you've come to mean to me."
"Don't. Oikawa, you are..." Ushijima dragged a hand over his face, his fingers clenching in his hair. When he looked up, his eyes were bleak. "You are troubled. I have to go."
"Wait, please--" Oikawa moved to stop him as Ushijima went for the door, but Iwaizumi caught his arm, shaking his head minutely. Oikawa stilled and watched Ushijima leave, the door banging shut behind him.
For a few moments everything was quiet. Then Iwaizumi said, "Tooru, holy shit," and Oikawa burst into tears.
***
Iwaizumi didn't yell at him or hit him after Oikawa explained the whole story, but Oikawa suspected that this was because he was too concerned about him, genuinely worried, which was much worse. Oikawa hated the look Iwaizumi got on his face, like Oikawa was someone strange to him, someone unfathomable. Oikawa didn't want to be unfathomable; he wanted his actions to make rational sense, even though he knew they didn't.
"Fuck, I'm sorry," Iwaizumi said after a while. Oikawa's temples were throbbing after all his tears, and his mind felt empty and washed out, a post-storm valley. "I should have noticed more that this shit was going on with you. If I hadn't had my head so far up my own ass with Kazu, then maybe...."
Oikawa flapped a hand, tired. "Don't. It's not your fault that I'm--what was Ushijima's word? 'Troubled?'" He laughed, then bit his lip against laughing more. He didn't want to be hysterical.
"I'm sorry that I pushed you into online dating," Iwaizumi said in a gruff voice. Oikawa kicked him under the table where they sat.
"I just said, don't do that.”
"What are you going to do now?"
Oikawa sighed and let his head flop back so that he was staring up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes. He wanted to sleep for a week. He wanted a vacation from being himself. "I don't think there's anything I can do, really. Tonight went as terribly as it possibly could, but there was never any way it was going to go well. All in all I've done an excellent job of ruining any possible chance I might have had with him."
Iwaizumi stayed silent and did not contradict him, which made Oikawa feel worse but which was probably accurate to his situation. What was there to be done? Trying to offer any further explanation of his inexplicable actions would just be insulting to Ushijima. And if Ushijima didn't believe him about his feelings being real, or did not think that his feelings made up for his actions, then there was nothing more to be said.
"I can't believe that after all my nagging you to get out there and date new people, you end up falling for someone we've known since we were twelve."
It shocked another laugh out of Oikawa. "God, Iwa-chan. I can't believe how badly I fucked this up."
"Neither can I, honestly." Iwaizumi clapped him on the shoulder, then pulled him into a hug. Oikawa held him back, and they stayed like that for a long time, until Oikawa stumbled into his room and fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.
***
The first thing Oikawa did in the morning was give in to his most masochistic impulses and check OkCupid. Ushijima had deactivated his account, and unmatched Oikawa on Tinder as well. It was not surprising, nor was the sick twist in his stomach and the lump in his throat upon finding out.
Iwaizumi offered to go to the gym with him and practice to get his mind off things, but Oikawa declined. He didn't want to go anywhere or do anything that would make him think of Ushijima, and volleyball was number one on that list. Unfortunately Oikawa had texted him from pretty much every location on or near campus that he went to regularly, so there were very few places left to him without the association.
But if he stayed in his room all day he was going to drown in a puddle of his own tears and leave Iwaizumi without a best friend and roommate. He had to do something, he couldn't stand himself at this level of pathetic. He chose a bookstore/coffee shop all the way across the city, a 40 minute train ride away.
He'd never been here before but of course that didn't really help; he thought about Ushijima regardless, his mind helpfully playing back the events of last night while Oikawa stared at the spines of new hardcover books without reading the titles.
All those heartfelt things that Ushijima had said about why he liked Satoru. How he found him smart and funny, how he liked the way he talked. How he even liked all the messy faults Oikawa had told him about. He hadn't liked any of the other people Oikawa had pretended to be, not half as much.
If Oikawa had approached him without guise from the beginning, had been himself from the beginning, maybe Ushijima would still have found all those things likable.
That was a pretty terrible thought to have, but it was also a bit energizing. Oikawa knew, at least, that Ushijima had the potential to like him even when all they had were words to exchange. And considering his initial Tinder message and how earnestly he'd tried to apologize for his past actions that night at the bar, maybe he had even liked Oikawa in the flesh and blood, before all the messages from Satoru.
Was it so impossible that he might like Oikawa enough to forgive him for all his lies and manipulation? Well--it probably, almost certainly was impossible, but maybe Oikawa cared enough about that small chance that it was worth trying to do something about it.
He spent the rest of the day scheming at the bookstore's coffee shop. By the time the sun was going down, he had what he hoped was a pretty solid plan.
On the way back to campus he stopped by a few stores, and went to Ushijima's dormitory before his own. He debated whether to just leave on the doorstep the plastic tubs, soil, seedlings and the instructions he'd printed out about how to keep a vegetable garden in a cramped apartment, or if he should ring the doorbell and try to explain the gift to Ushijima.
He badly wanted to just leave the items and flee and avoid a conversation that was sure to be awful. But he also figured that if this was going to work, he needed to stop giving in to the option that he preferred just because it was easier, and allowed him to retain more control.
He rang the doorbell. When Ushijima answered, his face clouded over immediately. Oikawa half-expected the door to be slammed in his face, but of course Ushijima was too polite for that.
"Hi," Oikawa said, trying to sound calmer than he felt. "I brought you, um, all this."
Oikawa watched as Ushijima looked down at the supplies, picking up the instructions that Oikawa had tucked into one of the bins. He read enough of the paper to see what it was, then looked back at Oikawa.
"Why?"
Oikawa took a deep breath and smiled. He hoped the smile seemed genuine. "It's my apology. Part of it, anyway. If you'll allow me to, I would like to keep giving you things, and doing things for you. To, ah, prove to you that I care. In the hopes of a second chance."
Every single word sounded flimsy and pathetic when Oikawa said them out loud. Ushijima didn't reply, instead crouching down to go through the seedlings, to read the label on the bag of soil. All Oikawa had to go off of was the top of his head.
He tried again. Time to be as forthright about his intentions as possible. "If you want me to keep apologizing or explaining myself, I can. But I thought.... well, I thought that maybe you wouldn't want any more words from me, considering that my words have been the problem this whole time. I want to make it up to you with my actions. No more words, not until you want them from me again."
For several long moments, Ushijima was motionless. Then he stood up again, saying, "You're very perceptive."
But it was not a compliment: his voice was angry, each word cold and clipped. "You can always figure out what to say or do to get what you want from someone. That's what allowed you to fool me for so long."
Oikawa shrank back, speechless at first. There was nothing he could say to contradict Ushijima. He was right. He'd cut right through all of Oikawa's hopes and good intentions and stripped him bare, exposing the core of him to the light like an ant under a glass.
And worse, Oikawa couldn't defend himself by arguing--if he managed to convince, it would just be proving Ushijima's point. He swallowed hard.
"I know. And I’m sorry. But I can use those powers for good, too. Remember what you said about our conversations, how you liked talking to me and found it easy to tell me things? I liked listening to you, I liked it when you would tell me about a problem you were having so I could figure out the right thing to say to make you feel better.”
Something in Ushijima’s eyes seemed to go soft and sad, but his mouth twisted. “Goodnight, Oikawa.”
And now he did shut the door in Oikawa’s face.
***
The next time Oikawa saw Ushijima was at volleyball practice. He gave no sign that he’d had a rough weekend, or that he was upset with Oikawa. He played just as brilliantly as ever, remained courteous and professional, and spiked every ball Oikawa set for him. He did not seem to be out of sync with Oikawa’s plays, and listened when Oikawa spoke to him as the team’s captain.
He said nothing to Oikawa when he wasn’t required to for the sake of the practice, but then, there had been plenty of practices where neither of them initiated conversation with the other. Certainly no one who didn’t know what was going on would guess that his behavior was particularly unfriendly.
Oikawa had to call on every inner reserve of perseverance and focus to get through practice without letting the quality of his play be affected, and by the end of it he still felt below his best. He knew there were cracks in his composure, too, because when practice was over and they were all heading into the showers one of the other setters, a second-year, asked him if he was okay. Was it the stress of finals that was getting to him?
Oikawa forced a smile and accepted the excuse handed to him. “Yes, I procrastinated too much last week and now I’m paying for it. I’m a bit sleep-deprived, but I should be in better shape after the next few days.”
The setter squeezed his shoulder. “Hang in there, man. I know how much you care about that beauty sleep.”
“I need less of that than most, being naturally blessed,” Oikawa said with a wink, and the setter laughed and shook his head and went on ahead into the showers.
Ushijima was in earshot. Oikawa wondered what he thought of him lying so easily. Did it reinforce his distrust of Oikawa? He could have tried to be more honest, could have admitted to his teammate that he was having a hard time because of his personal life. But perhaps Ushijima would have heard that and guessed (correctly) that Oikawa was only allowing himself to be vulnerable as a display, a tactic to try and win Ushijima back.
A dull pain throbbed behind his eyelids. This was too much--Oikawa couldn’t second- and third-guess every little social interaction now, wondering if every choice he made confirmed Ushijima’s negative perception of his character. He wouldn’t be able to function.
And it was pointless, anyhow: he couldn’t magically transform into someone who didn’t calculate people the way he did, and even if he could, he probably didn’t want to. As much as he liked Ushijima and as much as his own recent behavior had horrified him, Oikawa wouldn’t trade even the worst parts of himself for a simpler personality.
But still, he hoped for forgiveness. And he missed Ushijima, missed their conversations and the way he had felt when his phone lit up with a new message. He missed all those times he’d glanced at Ushijima during practice or some other excursion to find that Ushijima was already looking his way. He missed the passion that he’d heard in Ushijima’s voice when he’d told Oikawa all the things he liked about him.
That night Oikawa went out and bought the cheesiest greeting card he could find. They didn’t have any cards for the occasion of needing to apologize for deeply, cruelly wronging someone--the closest he could find was a card expressing his regrets for missing an important event. He crossed out the words about the event and scribbled ‘for being an asshole’ instead, and selected a smaller card expressing a cheesy valentine’s day sentiment and tucked it inside the apology card. After a brief internal debate he doodled on the sappy card, drawing hearts and a silly version of his face and then a version of his face with heart eyes.
He also got a small bouquet of flowers and a box of expensive tea, and left the whole package on Ushijima’s doorstep for him to discover in the morning. He had no idea how the cheesy gesture would go over. He felt cold and hollowed out on the walk between Ushijima’s dormitory and his own, like he’d reached the limits of his capacity to worry or stress or berate himself. All that was left was a bone-deep longing, like he’d mistakenly left an important piece of himself somewhere and was no longer quite whole.
***
The next morning he got a text from Ushijima. Thank you for the gifts. Oikawa waited, but that was it, that was apparently all he had to say. Probably Ushijima thought it was bad manners to not acknowledge a gift, regardless of his feelings on the giver.
Oikawa texted back, You’re welcome.
He wanted to say more, but he felt tongue-tied. Ushijima reaching out seemed like a hopeful sign, even if it was out of obligation, and he couldn’t waste this opportunity. But he couldn’t decide on what to say, struggled to summarize all his remorse and hopes and yearning into a text message. So he just followed up with, I miss you a lot. Can we please talk?
He felt shaky and scared after he hit send. It felt viscerally wrong to be so direct and serious and open. He didn’t know what he was doing.
Ushijima did not respond. As the minutes and then hours passed, it was all Oikawa could do to drag himself to his classes and go through the motions of the day, and he hated how he kept glancing at his phone every few seconds even long after it became apparent that no reply was coming.
They had no practice that evening, but Oikawa went to the gym anyway, practicing serves until his hands felt bruised and then forcing himself through sprint drills until his lungs were on fire. When he was finally finished, Ushijima was waiting for him outside.
“Oikawa, good evening.” Ushijima greeted him without a smile, his eyes sweeping once up Oikawa’s body before he glanced away. Oikawa wanted to die of mortification; the one time he skipped showering at the gym and allowed himself to be out in public red-faced and drenched in sweat, and this happens. Obviously Ushijima had seen him like this before, but usually they were both at the same level of exertion and grossness. Ushijima was the opposite of gross right now.
Oikawa let his gym bag thud heavily to the ground. “Did you come to use the gym? I wasn’t…. Expecting to run into anyone else from the team.”
“I came to talk to you.”
Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his t-shirt, the gesture giving him a few precious seconds to swallow down panic and try to think. He wanted to talk but he hadn’t yet figured out what he should say and didn’t feel ready. He hadn’t expected a conversation to just be sprung on him like this and his impulse was to find a way to get out of it, to regroup and come back to this when he felt like he had more than two braincells to rub together.
But this was it, this was the chance Ushijima was giving him. Oikawa couldn’t demand that it happen on his terms only.
God, he must smell terrible right now. What a nightmare.
“Okay, let’s talk. Where shall we go? I hope you weren’t thinking a cafe or something, I’m not exactly fit for public consumption at the moment.”
Ushijima led him to a secluded bench beneath some cherry trees, and Oikawa wondered how many other college students had broken up or gotten together right here. He wondered if anyone had begged forgiveness here who’d fucked up quite as magnificently as he had.
Neither of them said anything at first. Oikawa worried that once he started talking, he wouldn’t be able to stop, and it would just be excuse after excuse after tearful explanation until Ushijima left in disgust. But this silence was pretty unbearable, too, and he was on the verge of opening his mouth to let god-knows-what spill out when Ushijima spoke first.
“I have been trying to understand your behavior,” he said. “You claimed that you have real feelings for me, but months ago when I asked if you were interested in dating, you said no.”
Oikawa gripped the edge of the bench and stared resolutely ahead at the trees and the courtyard beyond. “Yes, well. I wasn’t at the time.”
“But you messaged me under the guise of a fake profile not long after that.”
Dammit. Oikawa imagined being strapped to an operating table, about to involuntarily undergo a painful and invasive surgical procedure. “Yeah. It was…. It was an impulse, I don’t know. I had been thinking about you ever since we matched on Tinder and then I found your OkCupid profile and you were just--” Fascinating. You were fascinating. “It made me curious about what kind of person would be right for you, and I wanted to see if I could come up with your perfect match. So I did and I messaged you, but you weren’t interested in the person I’d come up with. So then it was a challenge.”
His stomach was tied up in painful knots and he had to fight the urge to physically flee. The only silver lining to this conversation was that because Oikawa was already sweaty, any additional panic sweat couldn’t make him look or smell any worse.
“A challenge,” Ushijima echoed. Oikawa knew how terrible that must sound, but, well, he'd been terrible. It couldn’t be that much of an additional shock that his motives had never been pure.
“Oikawa….” When Oikawa looked his way, Ushijima was staring at him with intent, somehow managing to look even more serious than his usual. “Are you obsessed with me?”
Oikawa blinked. He wanted to laugh, not because the question was ridiculous, but because it was horrifyingly not. God, in high school he had always complained about stupid Ushiwaka being obsessed with him. And now here they were.
“I’ve had complicated feelings about you for a long time,” he said.
Ushijima frowned. “That’s not a no.”
Oikawa groaned and slumped over with his elbows on his knees, clenching his hands into fists in his hair. “I don’t know! I obviously can’t claim that my feelings about you are entirely healthy, can I? For years I thought I hated you, and you know I’ve mostly been rude to you even now that we’re teammates, and now…. And now I like you, I like you so much and I don’t know what to do with that and I don’t really expect that you do, either.”
To Oikawa’s horror, the last few words came out thick and choked as tears threatened to prickle behind his eyes. He jerked when he felt Ushijima’s hand on his shoulder, and turned to face him with his mouth already open to say more, probably something defensive and awful this time, but stopped when Ushijima kissed him.
Oikawa felt the warmth of Ushijima’s lips against his for several beats, long enough for his brain to switch gears from furious hysteria to confusion to excitement. He kissed back, but Ushijima pulled away before the kiss could deepen.
“What--” Oikawa felt dazed and slow, like he’d perhaps fried a circuit from experiencing too many different intense emotions in too short a period of time. “What was that?”
Ushijima’s features were soft and tinged blue in the low light offered by the campus streetlamps, and his eyelashes seemed so long when he glanced away. “It occurred to me that we’ve never been at all physical with each other. Any further debate would be pointless if we turned out not to be, ah, compatible. In that way.”
“I’m compatible. I mean, I feel compatible. With you. I liked that.” Oikawa shut his mouth and squeezed his lips together, god, he was babbling. He wanted to kiss Ushijima again. He wanted Ushijima to kiss him again.
“I liked it too.” When Ushijima met his eyes again, Oikawa felt his breath hitch. He smiled despite himself.
“You’re so logical. What should our next step be, then? I could continue doing a very bad job of answering your questions, or we could continue testing physical compatibility.”
Oikawa figured that there was a good chance that teasing at this juncture would get him kicked to the curb, but instead Ushijima said “Mm” and his eyes flickered down to Oikawa’s mouth.
***
“We should really do this again when I’m not covered in sweat,” Oikawa said, after making out for… he had no idea how long they’d been making out. His hand was under Ushijima’s shirt and Ushijima had his hair in a tight grip, tilting Oikawa’s head back to suck on his neck.
“I don’t mind,” Ushijima said. His nose nudged Oikawa’s collarbone, and Oikawa shivered.
“You didn’t disagree with doing this again. That’s admissible in a court of law, you know.”
Now Ushijima pulled back enough to look at him, his eyes searching Oikawa’s face. Oikawa swallowed but didn’t look away.
“I can buy you dinner first,” he said quietly. “We can go on a real date. What do you say?”
“I think a date would be a good start,” Ushijima said. His fingers, still in Oikawa’s hair, stroked down the nape of his neck before he took his hand back. “Hopefully my date won’t stand me up this time, due to being non-existent.”
The joke was so unexpected that it took Oikawa several seconds to realize it was a joke. He gawked for a while and then laughed nervously. “No one’s getting stood up! It will be a normal date, I swear. I’ll be 100% honest and forthright and sincere. No manipulation or scheming or anything like that, I won’t even be cute or charming.”
Ushijima smiled and ducked his head. “You can be cute and charming.”
“Well, good. I don’t have much else going for me.”
That got him a real laugh, and then Ushijima pulled him in to kiss him on the forehead, briefly, making Oikawa’s heart flutter. Then he stood up. “Goodnight, Oikawa. We can go out on Saturday.”
Oikawa took his time walking home. The sweat drying on his skin sharpened the wind and his jacket was too thin, but he felt a shaky kind of optimism, and the cold didn’t seem so bad.
Maybe Saturday wouldn't go well. Maybe Oikawa would continue to screw things up, and prove himself incapable of being with Ushijima without overcomplicating everything. That seemed just as likely as any alternative, but at least Ushijima seemed to like kissing him.
And Ushijima didn't mind it if he was cute and charming, even if those qualities were the flip side of more twisted personality traits. If all this had a silver lining, it was that Oikawa had now displayed more of his worst flaws than he ever intended, and somehow he'd been given a second chance anyway. For better or worse, there was no more hiding now.
Oikawa grinned to himself and touched his thumb to his bottom lip, where Ushijima had bitten him a couple of times. For the better. Definitely for the better.