[Book 1]
Your friend demands that you be the script writer for the supposed love story between her and Oikawa Tooru.
Or in which you're forced to shove two people together, painstakingly describing their romance arc, as you slowly fall for the volle...
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If there was one thing that you found utterly mortifying about yourself, it was that, contrary to popular belief, you were a hopeless romantic.
You read vintage books by Jane Austen to cure your everlasting status of being single, you listened to Shostakovich and Tchaikovsky to hide the growing hole in your soul, you watched awful, cliche rom coms, and you wrote pages upon pages of disgustingly sappy stories about spiralling lovers.
Yes, you were a true romantic; but that didn't mean you were well aware of what really happened in romances.
After observing Rin's relationships, you concluded several things about the subject of love: one, that true love took time and effort, two, there was no such thing as love at first sight, and three, things could either be very quick or painstakingly slow.
Not to say your final statements were true, that was just what you had watched take place, from the five partners Rin had gained over the years. Since you didn't have the experience yourself, of course it was difficult to say whether you were correct or not, but you could say with confidence that everyone's encounters with love were different.
No person on Earth was the same, after all, though you could have similar tastes.
Though, you certainly found that reading through Elizabeth and Mr Darcy's painful miscommunications were far less excruciating than seeing Rin and one of her boyfriends screaming at each other.
Because of your limited perspective, you knew you'd never have the full picture, but that didn't stop you from thinking that relationships sounded much better in books.
So you set fiction and reality firmly apart, deciding that it would stop you from having silly delusions about love.
You found yourself dwelling on the subject matter, because you realized that you'd unwillingly told Oikawa your most humiliating secret, back at the park. Well, you hadn't said it outright; but you'd implied it, and Oikawa was intelligent enough to understand what you'd meant.
Which is why you were currently regretting stepping on the school grounds, because ever since lunch, after talking with Oikawa, everyone's eyes were on you.
(In case it wasn't obvious, you didn't like it.)
When the last bell finally rang, you froze up at the sight of a group of popular people waltzing over to you. The air that surrounded them somehow stank of overpriced perfume and the faint smell of superiority.
"You're (L/n), right?" the girl at the front demanded, hands on her hips.
All you could bring yourself to do was nod wordlessly in response.
"How do you know Oikawa-san?" a boy asked, folding his arms and eyeing you in a judging manner.
"We… met once, uh, at a party," you replied meekly.
