a/n: take a shot everytime i say the words “paper crowns” in this fic lmao. i hope you enjoy it! i’m really proud of this one
genre: childhood friends to lovers, very light angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, its like 85% fluff 15% angst and imo its not that angsty
summary: you were in love with the boy who wore paper crowns and kept galaxies in his pockets
you were in love with a boy who wore paper crowns and kept galaxies in his pockets in case the both of you ever got bored of the same old scenery the miyagi prefecture had to offer. he’d take the stars and universes out of his pocket and paint your skies with nebulas and show you everything beautiful the world had to offer.
“i want to travel the world with you one day,” he’d shrugged one day out of nowhere- as if you weren’t both in fourth grade and had no real means of being able to make that dream come true.
“we will.” you’d promised, anyway.
the paper crowns were a craft you’d shown him how to make when you were both little. he’d become so enamored with it the both of you had gone to the store and spent your pocket money on buying blue card stock paper, just to have quality, blue paper crowns.
when iwaizumi had joined one day, the both of you had offered him a crown. he refused, saying knights were much cooler anyway. and so, the three of you spent the day learning how to make a paper sword for your dear friend instead.
you and oikawa preferred the crowns much more.
“see, i’m a king, and you’re my queen!” he’d exclaimed. you wondered if it was a silly proclamation or a promise for the future.
the paper crowns remained on your heads all throughout your childhood and middle school. by the time you got to highschool, you’d realized with tears in your eyes and a heavy heart that oikawa had traded in his paper crowns for a volleyball and a net.
the paper crown you’d both made and decorated with stickers and drawings remained on his dresser, but your friendship had long since withered away.
the garden that was your friendship needed the care of two people and oikawa, busy as he was, had left you to do all the work. eventually, what had become this one-sided friendship of yours had dried up.
he regrets many things, but he regrets that the most.
he pretends he doesn’t see the way you steal glances towards him and look like you’re about to cry.
he pretends it doesn’t hurt when you stop. he has to steel himself whenever you walk by him without so much as a glance.
you don’t make paper crowns anymore.
he’s not sure if he was better off with you hating him or you ignoring him.
oikawa tooru loves paper crowns, attention, and volleyball. he’d realized too late that he loves you, too.
in his second year, he’d ditched volleyball practice for the first and last time. he’d gone to the store, just like he did many years ago, and bought a pack of blue card stock.
two new, clean paper crowns. he’s gotten much better at them, he thought proudly. he grabbed some stickers from takeru (much to his nephew’s protest) with promises to buy him more later. he’d stuck the stickers on carefully, the perfectionist that he is. and afterwards, after deciding that the crown looked too plain, he’d drawn and cut out some designs on a different sheet of paper, meticulously glueing on every little drawing.
the first and last time he’d ever ditch volleyball practice, and it was to make you a paper crown for your birthday. he’d even made a matching one for himself.
“i’m such a simp...” he sighed to himself. the both of you hadn’t spoken in two years, and he was about to show up to your doorstep with an origami project and a sheepish smile.
he decided he needs more because you deserve better than a childish arts and crafts project with sentimental value and a shitty friend. another stop at the store, with the crowns in his hand.
the florists are all closed by this time of day, so instead he buys a few cheap, half off bouquets that the stores sell.
he hates them, if he was being honest. so he compromises, stealing certain flowers here and there from each bouquet he bought and made it into one, beautifully done (almost professional looking, if he could say so himself) bouquet— just for you. he’d put the leftover flowers into a vase and arrange them later to give to his mother.
by the time he’s finally finished preparing, it was on the cusp of twilight. his mother had flashed him a knowing smile on his way out of the door, the pieces all fitting together when she sees the familiar points of the crowns in his hand. she’d seen them often enough in his childhood to know that they were worth more to him than just simple toys.
while the night is winding down, you open your door to a pretty bouquet shoved into your face, tied with a pretty blue bow and held by a pretty boy, with a shy, apologetic smile on his face. the real kicker was the paper crown placed on his head.
you smile, glad to see the boy you once called your best friend again. you happily take the flowers, side stepping away from your front door to let the chocolate haired setter into your home.
your family greets him with a smile, they’d always loved oikawa. to them, he was the boy that would spout facts about space and conspiracy theories about the government and the aliens that they were hiding whenever he could. his faces flushes bright red when it’s brought up.
they, too, smile knowingly at the familiar blue set of crowns in his hand.
you put the beautifully arranged flowers into a vase and ask him to follow you. he does, of course. he’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you’d asked him to.
he won’t say that. not right now, at least. your relationship still needed mending. he still needed to learn how to manage his schedule. it’s the reason the both of you had distanced yourselves from each other in the first place.
volleyball first, he’d always think. he’d just assumed you’d always be able for him to come home to whenever he needed. you’d just felt used, instead.
he thinks he’s learned his lesson. enough, at least, for him to try being friends with you again. properly, this time. and then maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to confess the feelings he’s been shoving away from his heart for years.
you both enter your room, placing the vase of flowers onto your nightstand. his heart stutters with hope when he sees a paper crown left on your nightstand, right next to the newly set vase of flowers. he ignores how his stomach plunged with guilt, as well, for neglecting your friendship for so long.
you both pretend you don’t see your family peaking through a crack in your door to see what was going on.
they pretend they didn’t see oikawa hold you in his arms and whisper apologies, asking for another chance. they slip away without a word.
oikawa’s head tucks into your shoulder, his paper crown falling to the ground when he does.
you wonder how he could be comfortable in this position, considering your height difference. he’s grown so much taller since you knew him.
when he steps back, he places the paper crown he’s been holding in his hand onto your head. you bend down to pick up his, and place it onto his head.
you realize quickly that oikawa is still the boy that keeps galaxies in his pocket and that he’d never traded in his paper crowns for volleyball. he brought them with him.
he’d make a great king, you think, when you watch him play a highschool game for the first time.
you’d been avoiding watching your high school’s volleyball games out of fear and, quite frankly, humiliation for the friendship that withered after not seeing sunlight for two years.
he’s still a setter, just like he was in middle school, and he’s still amazing. he conducts his team with ease and, despite always receiving the brunt of their jokes, it’s clear they respect and trust him just as much as he does them.
you smile and wave at the boy who once held a paper sword in his hand. iwaizumi sends you a confused glance, but waves back nonetheless. he turns to oikawa, his furrowed brows and look of confusion still evident on his face.
oikawa turns to his friend, who then points to you. when oikawa sees you at his game, he complains about you waving to iwaizumi before you greeted him, yelling his complains all the way from the gym floor.
you roll your eyes, “i have an inquiry box at home, if you want!” you yell right back.
he pouts, “well maybe i’ll submit an entry! about how mean you are to me! hmph!”
he turns away with a smile on his face. he can’t help it— you’re finally at a game.
he’ll never admit he always looks for you in the crowd when he plays the sport he loves so much. when you finally show up to one, he finally acknowledges the feeling of pride that swells in his chest.
he confesses to you at the end of your second year, when he thinks that you’re both back and settled into your friendship.
he knows that he really should have chosen a better place to confess to you, rather than the halls of aoba johsai during a lunch period. he loves attention, but for once he decides he hates the stares of the students around the both of you, the air hanging heavily as everyone waits to hear your answer. he knows better than anyone at this moment that this wasn’t the best spot he could have done this, but he couldn’t wait anymore.
“take your time,” you’d always tell him when you were younger. he was never one to listen to that advice.
then again, he was also never one to be the person confessing. it was always him getting the confessions. he feels his face burn with embarrassment and fear that you’ll reject him.
you accept his confession with stars in your eyes.
he paints your skies with the galaxies he keeps in his pockets. he lays in your arms with a dazed smile on his face, your hands carding through his hair.
“you’re ruining it.” he complains with a pout.
you hum, “i have an inquiry box, you know.”
“you don’t. i think you should get one, i have a lot of complaints to put in.”
“is that so? you can go ahead and fuck right off, then.” you try not to laugh when you roll him off of you.
he whines, “i was joking!” he crawls his way back into your arms and settles himself between your legs.
after a period of silence, he brings up your promise from long ago. “let’s travel the world together?” he mumbles, as if he was shy to ask.
oikawa tooru is shy, you think with amusement. you may as well enjoy it while you can.
“hm? where’s this coming from?”
he buries his head in your shoulder in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. you won’t mention how you can see the tips of his ears turning red.
“don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” he pouts, “remember? you promised we would.”
“ah, that’s right. i did.”
“well, i promised, didn’t i? promises are made to be kept.” you say, as if you both aren’t broke highschool students worried about college applications.
“where would we go first?”
“hmm. i’ve always wanted to visit argentina since we watched that professional volleyball game when we were younger. you know, the one where you had that dude sign your—“
“stop! stop! and for your information, his name was jose blanco! and don’t bring that up, please, it’s embarrassing. you just love watching me suffer, don’t you?”
“not my fault you decided to—“
“so!” he interrupts again to save himself, “argentina? we can do argentina.” he smiles against the exposed skin of your shoulder, his hand playing with your fingers.
“and then after that, let’s visit france. and then i’d like to see the philippines, too. so many places to visit, too little time and money, jeez.” you continue to ramble, your hands reaching for your nightstand to grab and place the paper crown displayed on it onto your boyfriend’s head.
he listens to your rambling intently, fully ready to do everything he can to make both your dreams a reality.
oikawa thinks his heart might explode out of his chest at the thought that he was lucky enough to fall in love with the girl with paper crowns and stars in her eyes.
