Relationship: Oikawa/Ushijima
Not often, but occasionally, the weather seemed to reflect Oikawa’s inner mood. The day he was recruited for Tokyo’s top university volleyball team, the sky was a perfect blue with rays of sunshine pouring through the flowering trees as clouds drifted lazily above him. The day he met his new volleyball team, however, thunder rumbled outside the gym. The ground shook ominously from the impact of lightning striking the ground a few miles away, and the rain mixed with the wind in a combined effort to pummel the building he was in.
He pasted a polite smile on his face, ran through the necessary drills, chatted with his upperclassmen, and escaped into the storm as soon as they were released. He gasped a desperate breath, filling his lungs with cleansing air as his body was ravaged by bullets of ice-cold water. He fluttered his eyes to peer through the downpour, jerking his head around to find shelter from the rain as well as any intruding eyes.
Luckily the campus was deserted, most of the students taking haven inside the buildings until the storm subsided. He made a beeline for one of the covered entrances, beckoning him with its golden light pouring from the grey arches above it. The refuge provided only a slight relief to him; the real storm was boiling inside of him.
He paced in front of the glass doors, only briefly glancing inside to make sure no one saw him stewing. Like outside, the lobby was a barren wasteland devoid of people. He was relieved most students were in class and it was unlikely he would be disturbed as he tried to contain his rage and frustration.
His body went rigid at the sound of the deep voice. He shut his eyes, releasing a deep breath between his teeth like a hiss.
“Ushiwaka,” He muttered back as he turned to face his new teammate. He should have expected it; how could he be recruited to one of the best teams in Japan if they also didn’t extend the invitation to Ushijima, one of the greatest wing spikers in the country. But Oikawa didn’t expect it; all he had seen was a fresh chance to take the world by storm. That included defeating Ushijima Wakatoshi once and for all, but once again his chance was stolen from him and now he had to work with him as well. He felt like life truly wanted him to suffer.
He scowled at Ushijima as he walked toward him. He clicked his tongue, irritated that he even had to share the small refuge from the storm.
“What do you want?” He finally snapped when Ushijima did nothing but look him over carefully.
“You shouldn’t have rushed out in the middle of a storm without protection. You need to take care of your health.”
Oikawa’s eyebrows raised as his eyes scoured over Ushijima’s soaking wet body. He tried not to gulp at the way his T-shirt clung to every muscle of his torso. They seemed to flex alluringly even as Ushijima did nothing but breathe.
“You say that, but you also ran out without protection.”
Ushijima blinked, his eyebrows furrowing just slightly as he thought about it.
The silence was maddening. Oikawa glanced out and contemplated finding another hiding spot, but he had the feeling Ushijima was part bloodhound. Besides, he needed to have it out with Ushijima and it was better sooner than later. The last thing he wanted to do was infect the team with any kind of dissent or negativity. He opened his mouth and drew a breath to start, but Ushijima moved at the same time, unzipping his gym bag and rustling through it. Once he found what he was looking for, he stepped toward Oikawa and held out a towel.
“It’s clean. You’re soaking wet and you need to dry off.”
“There’s no point drying off if I’m just going to go back out in it.”
Ushijima cocked his head at him, his eyes flickering briefly to the whipping rain just a couple of feet away.
“Why would you go back in it? It’s not supposed to last long, you should wait.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Oikawa said, his voice as cold as the wind howling through the campus trees.
“I didn’t tell you, I merely suggested,” Ushijima said calmly as he took another step forward. He unwrapped the towel himself and draped it over Oikawa’s head. Oikawa clenched his teeth, his muscles wound as tight as a cobra ready to snap, but he allowed Ushijima to pat his head dry. He shut his eyes and pretended it was anyone else, but by focusing on the towel soaking up all the icy droplets he could feel the unexpected gentleness in Ushijima’s strong hands. Meticulous, as well, missing not one spot on Oikawa’s dripping head.
