“You can orchestrate both in volleyball and music”
[Professional volleyball player (Oikawa Tooru) x Music producer/singer AU (OC/Iko)]
[For this story's masterlist & more info → click here.]
.✶♡*✩.✶♡*✩.✶♡*✩.✶♡*✩.✶♡*✩.✶♡*✩.✶♡*✩.✶♡*✩.✶♡*✩.✶♡*✩.
Slipping from the chaos of a stadium full of people and cameras was difficult but not impossible. At the beginning of his musical career, Iko had learned how to keep a low profile and avoid gossip-seekers to survive the fame with his introverted nature. It was easy for him to recognize the fleeting moment of others' distraction and take advantage of it. The cameras always tended to follow the most brilliant star and after an intense match of volleyball, there were a lot of athletes who thrived on attention.
Tugging the hoodie up to his head, Iko got lost among the crowd and beelined for the closest exit. He left behind a claustrophobic atmosphere -fans screaming to catch their favourite athletes’ attention, sports journalists speaking louder to be heard through their microphones, shoulders bumping into each other and feet struggling to move forward. The emergency door closed and muffled all those noises, leaving a quiet night in front of him.
He took a deep breath in, but he didn’t mind the burning sting in his nose for the chill air, because something was already burning inside him, making him grin to himself. His notebook felt unusually heavy inside the back pocket of his trousers, like a prize he couldn’t resist admiring properly as soon as he was sitting inside his car.
His fingers skimmed through the familiar pages -music sheets, old vocals, and memories of the most awkward times inspiration had made him hunch over to write anything down- and found it immediately. Right there, below his own calligraphy, a new one stained the whiteness.
CALL ME.
+54 9 13 0620 1011
OIKAWA TOORU
Unconsciously, Iko ran his fingertips over it and felt the slight pressure of the pen that had marked the paper. Written in a continuous, self-assured motion, the signature swept outward bold and fluid as if to claim space before the name even fully formed, and then it tightened into sharper, more controlled curves, suggesting precision beneath the flair. It was clearly the calligraphy of someone who knew they were being watched and wrote accordingly -not a simple autograph but a performance now printed on his notebook.
Iko picked his phone and saved the number, opening a new chat. He stared at it for a moment longer than necessary. He was all alone, his car parked not too far from the stadium in a secondary street, and he realised that he didn’t want to call it a night yet.
📲 UNKNOWN NUMBER
> This is Iko.
> I’m still out here, if you want to talk without prying eyes.
In the locker room, Oikawa was getting ready for a shower and tuned out the conversation among his teammates about where they could go to celebrate the victory. Swift sounds of clothes and towels echoed among the walls of the room and in the background there was even the constant pit-pat of the showers running, but everything dulled into something distant as Oikawa saw his phone screen glowing inside the locker.
Draping the clean towel over his shoulder, he reached out and curiously checked the notification. The initial frown on his face when he saw an unknown number disappeared as he read the text and his heartbeat quickened. A disbelieving -maybe a little flustered- chuckle escaped from his lips before he could restrain himself, and he bit down his smirk as he thought about a proper reply. This Iko seemed to be a very direct person but Oikawa liked to play games and keep people on their toes.
📱OIKAWA
< isn’t it a bit desperate to wait for me outside, when we just met??
His eyes widened as Oikawa stared at his screen and blinked a couple of times in surprise. Something exciting warmed its way inside his chest and through his whole body. A funny shiver ran down his spine like a spark of electricity, and his feet moved before his mind could catch up. Phone locked and put aside. Locker closed with a soft thud. He beelined for the showers.
In little time, Oikawa freshened up and put on the change of clothes. It was nothing too fancy -a linen shirt that showed the gold chain around his neck and a pair of denim trousers- but he spent minutes in front of his phone’s camera to style his hair as best as possible. He recalled the way those blue eyes stared at him, and he craved that kind of attention.
Bidding his farewell to his teammates and promising them that he would try to catch up with them later if he was still around, Oikawa stepped out of the locker room with his bag on shoulder and his phone in hand. He clicked on the text to open the map and saw where Iko was waiting for him, but he didn’t rush.
With lazy steps, he left the stadium and even exchanged some small talks with the coaches or colleagues he had met along the way. The wait heightened the anticipation, he knew that very well. And he wanted to figure out where Iko’s patience set the bar, only to see how far he could push it.
Goosebumps erupted on his skin when the chill air of the night hit his bare forearms and unconsciously, his shoulders curled inwardly to keep him warm. Oikawa glanced around and checked that the long shadows projected on the asphalt were attached to the buildings and streetlamps. Tonight, he wanted to have fun without risking a scandalistic title the next morning. But he noticed that Iko had the same thought, because a black and sleek car was parked in a secondary street -discreet and too casual to catch the attention. Damn, even Oikawa himself was almost walking past it if the click of the door getting unlocked didn’t echo through the silence.
His fingers trembled slightly as he reached for the handle but as soon as they wrapped around it, Oikawa steadied his grip -and himself. Inside, Iko was sitting comfortably on the driver seat and shot him a gentle smile.
“Hi… make yourself at home,” he greeted as he patted the passenger seat. His voice was low and calm, there were also no signs in his expression that gave away annoyance for having waited so long… No, Iko seemed genuinely content to see him there. Even if it wasn’t the reaction Oikawa was expecting, he couldn’t ignore the way his guts fluttered in the pit of his stomach.
“Nice car,” he commented halfheartedly while he got inside, finally finding shelter from the chill night. The door shut with a dull thud, sealing them into a space that suddenly felt smaller than it should.
Iko shrugged nonchalantly, his attention too focused on the other to make a small talk about the vehicle he drove. He didn’t care about motors, speed or money when beside him sat such effortless beauty.
“You’re staring,” Oikawa called him out, clearly amused.
But he didn’t feel a hint of shame. Iko liked the light fabric draping down his strong shoulders oh so gently, and the way the golden chain around his neck caught the feeble light of the streetlamp outside.
“I wanted to say it before but… there were too many ears around,” he murmured as he looked straight in those brown eyes that had stolen his attention way too easily tonight.
The words left his lips in a natural way, as if Iko was speaking the mere truth. They made the air inside the car hot all of a sudden, because Oikawa felt his cheeks burn.
He huffed a small chuckle and shook his head as he leaned his left arm on the console between them, shortening the distance between them.
“Tell me, Iko… are you a flattery kind of a guy or just a straightforward one? ‘Cause that gave the impression of a flirt…” Oikawa pointed out, challenging him with the question.
Were they going to play ‘friends’ for a night or skip right to the fun?
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