Sypnosis: Oikawa was home sick when he unexpectedly met a girl from his hometown. Though they had never crossed paths before, something between them clicked instantly. They wandered through Argentina together like star-crossed lovers, sharing quiet moments and sudden laughter. She had come here to unwind after the weight of overwork and ended up finding something far more meaningful.
tags: Hurt/comfort, homesick Oikawa, Argentina settings, implied sexual content, Reader is a little bit reserved and confused with Oikawa actions, instant click, Fast relationship but not rushed
W/c: 2.5k
Life gets a little boring. It’s the same thing every day.
Waking up at 7, making yourself presentable, going to work.
Working until 5, drinking with colleagues and business partners until it’s too late, dragging yourself home before 1 AM to avoid those colleagues who get too comfortable when drunk.
Running on the tiniest amount of sleep, just to wake up early and do it all over again, pretending to be perfect.
It’s tiring.
The worst part is knowing this never-ending loop might actually be the death of you.
You can already imagine the headline: “Young JVA Employee Dies of Overwork and Chronic Bullshit.”
Tragic. Predictable.
Somewhere along the way, life got so exhausting that the idea of running away started sounding less like a fantasy and more like a necessity.
Honestly, you’d trade it all just to be a kid again. Playing with kids in the neighbourhood with nothing to worry about and freeloading off your parents like there's no tomorrow.
At some point, the exhaustion started gnawing at more than just your body, so putting it as “burnout” is an understatement. This is an accumulation of 10 years of grief and suffering! Sure the job was quite well off and your boss was pretty easygoing, but the routine was taking its toll on your mental health.
So you did the reasonable thing, you quit. Just like that. Walked out, went home, and stayed there, sorry Kuroo but this bs is gonna kill me. Rotting in bed, eating whatever didn’t require effort, ignoring texts until even that felt too hard.
You were rotting away when one day, a friend dragged you out and somehow convinced you that “You need to get away.”
Next thing you knew, they were booking a trip to Argentina, and you were like “Screw it” while draining half your savings to go with them.
What's the point of having money when you can’t spend it? You’re gonna get the money back anyways, but a hot girl’s trip to Argentina in your 20s? never!
Your trip to Argentina turned out to be exactly what you didn’t know you needed.
You and your friends made a list: tourist spots, local food to try, museums you’d pretend to appreciate, street markets to get lost in, . . .
Every item ticked off one by one, you actually did it all.
For once, life wasn’t about deadlines or expectations. It was just you, and yourself. All you needed to focus on was yourself and you were healing. You felt alive! Not just surviving. It felt like the universe was finally giving you space to exist as more than a tired version of who you used to be.
Your itinerary was nearly complete, your energy slowly coming back to life. Those days laughing with your friends, sleeping through the night, waking up without that dull, familiar ache in your chest. Now you can die knowing you’ve lived.
But then the unexpected twist came, the bullet point that wasn’t penciled into the trip notes.
The culprit?
Oikawa Tooru.
You were out with your friends at a local bar and were drunk asf, your head was blasting with the loud music, everything was messy and glowing.
Hot girls’ vacation? Peak success.
You were tipsy off cocktails you didn’t even pay for (some guy had been trying to flirt all night and you weren’t about to say no to free drinks).
And then just as things were going out of control, you stumbled into a tall, annoyingly handsome someone.
His face was pretty and his hair curls certainly complimented his look, falling just enough to make him look like he belonged on a magazine cover.
Really can’t tell if this was the start of something great or worse. And talk about first impressions, this guy spilled water all over you.
That brat didn’t even apologize, all he did was stare at you judgmentally.
You murmured out a cuss word in Japanese, and this guy started smirking. “Did you just call me an asshole?” he said, holding back a laugh. “No way you’re Japanese too!” he claimed.
You stared at him in disbelief “Who the fuck would drink water at a bar?”
Turns out, he was a professional volleyball player so physical health was his utmost priority. (Coach said no drinking).
Firstly, he apologized and offered a drink as an apology (this was going to be your third free drink for tonight).
Secondly, this guy was Oikawa Tooru! Yes, the Oikawa! Besides the bad first impression.
(Being he spilled water all over you and accused you of being one of his crazy fan girls
- “Wait, you look oddly familiar? are you Mr tooru?
- “Woah you know me? Are you one of my crazy, die-for-me fangirls?” he said with his starry starry eyes
-Wtf? (this guy didn’t even flinch saying that. Is he not embarrassed?)
He was pretty tolerable. This guy talks about volleyball like he has never before. You decided to play along and entertain him for the night, you told him you knew a thing or two about volleyball and that you work at the Japanese volleyball association. Which made him blow up as he claimed “I didn’t know they started hiring hot people to work there”.
Third, you guys then went on talking about a lot of stuff outside of volleyball, and you guys saw eye to eye in a lot of situations and decided to exchange numbers.
Your friends couldn’t believe you met a guy in Argentina, she said this was going to be the ‘Argentina fling’ which you quickly brushed off and told her to stop making assumptions.
Ever since you met that guy, he has been showing you around Argentina, acting like a free tourist guide. You’d occasionally indulge him and follow whatever he wants and he made it his personal mission to show you everything: cafes tucked into alleyways, sunset viewpoints only locals knew, and restaurants he’d always retreat to when he's lazy to cook for himself.
You weren’t complaining… much. Just half amused, half wondering why he kept showing up like a stray golden retriever who happened to speak Japanese and flirt like it was a sport.
- “Hey, see that ice cream truck?”
- “Do I look blind?” you deadpanned, staring into his soul.
- He laughed, like you had grown two heads. “That wasn’t funny, but you reminded me of an old friend.”
Sometimes, he’d get soft on you — sneakily, like it was a secret between you and the city.
- “This is my favorite spot,” he said once, pointing to a bench facing the water.
- “Why?”
- “Because I only bring people I like here.”
- You stared at him. “...Gross.”
Or times when he just gets so irritating you consider wiping off that smug face of his in public, never in your life have you been so provoked to hit a man.
-”I travelled 18 thousand km just to be here, and you brought me to a Japanese restaurant?”
- Oikawa grinned like a child caught red-handed. He winked one eye, stuck his tongue out, and threw up a peace sign. “Well you’ve never eaten Japanese food with an Argentinian in Argentina before, no?”
- ?
- “I mean you did agree to go anywhere as long as it has food”
- “Remind me why did I indulge you again?”
But if you think that was annoying, you were wrong. Sometimes, he’d randomly come up with a hangout idea no matter what time it is.
- “Hey ik it's like 11pm which is pretty late, but there's a night market thats sells really cool stuff”
- “what?” you thought the princess needed his beauty sleep, but turns out this princess cheats occasionally at Japanese night food stalls.
Despite the fact that you’d only just met, the last three weeks with him had been… unexpectedly amazing.
Sure, he had a serious case of princess syndrome of always needing things his way, pouting when they weren’t, and dramatically sighing like the world was personally attacking him.
But somehow, you found yourself going along with it.
Because when Oikawa Tooru wanted something, he asked with that smug little smile, that glitter in his eyes. And if you said no? he’d sulk like a child denied candy.
And honestly? You didn’t hate it.
But all good things must come to an end. Kuroo called you, and though he genuinely hoped you’d keep healing and resting, he couldn’t cover for you any longer.
Your boss was right though, you’re fully healed and mentally prepared to work again, if you keep on slacking off of work, you’d actually be unemployed.
After hanging up the phone, and thinking over it. You decided to formally announce this to someone you’ve spent the most time with in Argentina. Oikawa.
You asked him to meet you at the bar where you guys met. You told your friend you were gonna go out and left early. The night was long anyways so you decided to come early to wait for him.
“Hey, beautiful. Why the long face?” Oikawa greeted with that usual sparkle in his eye. But the second you looked at him, he flinched. Just a flicker. Barely there. But you saw it.
Oikawa also came early, which was unusual for him. He must have sensed something.
He stepped closer, tone softer now. “What happened?”
“I’m going back to Japan.” You said as you look straight at him. You decided to not beat around the bush in situations like this.
A silence followed, after the news were announced, not long. Just enough. Enough for the words to settle in the space between you, for his eyes to flicker.
But then, true to form, he took a dramatic breath, slapped a hand over his chest like you’d stabbed him, and let out the most theatrical sigh you’d ever heard. “You wound me!” he groaned, lips curled into a pout “How could you?!”
You huffed a laugh, “I haven’t even left yet.”
“But you're going to,” he whispered, voice low now, vulnerable and bare. “And I don’t know how to be funny about that. This past month has been so much fun,” he sighed, dragging out the words like an actor. “How dare you leave me behind?”
You rolled your eyes “Oh please i'm just going back home. It’s not like I'm dying or anything.”
Then, as if deciding he wasn’t done with you just yet, he straightened up and grinned. “Well, but that means that we can’t hang out daily anymore and I've decided today’s my cheat day anyway. I’m drinking with you. No arguments.”
You raised an eyebrow then laughed, “Alright, it’s on the house then.”
And just like that, you were ordering drinks again.
One last night. One last memory.
___
The bar was loud, the lights warm and hazy, laughter blending into music. Time didn’t feel real — just a string of moments stitched together with the sound of clinking glasses and Oikawa’s eyes on you every time you smiled.
Eventually, the world started to spin. Not violently, just enough to remind you how much you’d had. Your head throbbed, and the edges of your vision softened like watercolor bleeding into the page.
You were still conscious, still present, still you. But heavy with the weight of everything. The drinks, the goodbye, the quiet ache in your chest.
Oikawa noticed. Of course he did. “Come on,” he said gently, looping your arm over his shoulder. “Let’s get you home.”
His home.
Without a second thought, he scooped you up in a princess carry effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and carried you to his car. In your haze, you heard him grumble something under his breath about your dramatic drinking habits, but the way he tucked you in, careful not to bump your head, said more than his words ever could.
He got in beside you and started the engine. The drive was quiet. No teasing. No smug comments. No dramatic acts. Just the hum of the car, the soft lights of the city passing by, and his hand reaching across the console to find yours.
He didn’t say anything when you intertwined your fingers. Didn’t have to. His grip was steady. Warm. Like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. It was nice having someone to console to for past few days. He felt less homesick with you. And you sat there in silence.
At his door, he looked down at you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “You’re really leaving, huh?”
You nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Then let me be selfish tonight.”
He pulled you inside, not rushed, not reckless, just.. close. Like he needed to memorize how you fit against him before the moment slipped away.
And when he kissed you, it wasn’t playful or teasing. It was full of everything he hadn’t said over the past month. Every unspoken feeling, every quiet glance, every stolen moment.
Slow. Careful. Real.
That night wasn’t about letting go. It was about holding on, just a little longer. “Hey…” he started, his voice lower now, serious.
“Would you be willing to stay here… and be my girlfriend?” He carefully said
“I know we’ve only just met but—”
No.
The word left your mouth too fast, too sharp. Probably the first time you’d ever said no to him during this trip.
Oikawa froze.
For a second, he looked genuinely shocked. Disappointed, yes but not devastated. It wasn’t like he hadn’t prepared himself for this possibility. He was dramatic, not delusional.
He looked away, jaw tightening just a little. But before the silence could stretch too long, you reached for his hand.“But…” you continued softly, “if you ever come back to Japan... and I get to show you around for once... I might make it official.”
That’s when he looked up again. and there it was. The slow, smug, relieved grin. He tried to hide it behind a roll of his eyes. “I hate you,” he muttered, but his fingers were laced with yours anyway. “You’re sure right? Like not drunk?”
You looked at him, completely deadpan. “I drink with my colleagues all the time. I’m a heavy drinker. This is light work.” You claimed.
He grinned upon hearing that, eyes gleaming, but then his expression shifted. There was something serious beneath the charm. He leaned in a little, gaze steady, voice quieter. “Then look me in the eyes,” he said, “and tell me–
If I go back to Japan with you… Would you be my girlfriend?”
The air between you changed. His eyes were telling a story, they were searching. Glazed with a vulnerability he rarely let show. It was like he was holding his breath, he needed to hear this a second time.
You smiled. Then laughed a little but soft, a little breathless, a little surprised by how full your heart felt. “Yes,” you said. “Yes, I would.”
He hugged you tighter, pulled you in closer. Then his lips brushing against your ear, he whispered, voice low, steady, and impossibly soft: “Just wait a little longer,” Oikawa said, his voice low. “After this season… I’ll come back to Japan. I’ll live with you. I mean it.”
He didn’t hesitate. He lifted you effortlessly, You yelped, laughing harder, slighting nudging him, but his grip was firm grounding. Then he looked at you again, eyes bright with something real this time, and he carried you to the bedroom not just with desire, but with something deeper..
Like this was the start of something that might just last.
