Chapter Text
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There were many things you hated in this world.
Mosquitoes. Unholy little creatures engineered by Satan himself to ruin summer nights and carry out his vendetta against humanity.
People who walked slow in hallways. If you ever became a dictator, they would be the first to go.
That one vending machine that stole your money but never gave you your drink. If you had a gun and one bullet, you knew exactly where that bullet was going.
Lastly, Oikawa Tooru’s stupid, smug face.
Unfortunately for you, the last one was currently two inches from your own, breathing your air like he paid rent.
Oikawa had been your classmate for an impossibly infuriating amount of time in Seijoh.
Even now, in your senior year, you found yourself in the same class as him. He moved through life with the kind of arrogance only a man who had never been humbled could possess, and his confidence soared off the charts.
And right now, that confidence was being used for evil.
"There she is, my favourite classmate!" Oikawa sang, flopping into the seat beside you with the elegance of a pigeon slamming into a glass door. "What a beautiful day it is! The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and—"
"If you don’t get to the point in five seconds, I’m drop kicking you so hard they’ll have to dig you out of the volleyball court." You say in a disinterested tone and it mildly comes off as a threat.
Oikawa gasped, clutching his chest like you had personally stabbed him with a rusty spoon, "Such violence! Such cruelty! And after all we’ve been through?"
You gave him a flat look, too sleep deprived and exhilarated to give him much of a reaction. "You tripped me down the stairs last week."
"That was an accident!
"You yelled ‘TIMBERRR’ first."
"Irrelevant!" Oikawa dismissed, waving his hand like he was brushing away a mild inconvenience instead of attempted homicide, "Anyway! I came here because I have a proposition for you."
You narrowed your eyes in suspicion.This could only go two ways. None of which were beneficial to you.
"You have a death wish? I'll gladly comply if so."
"Close. But no." His smirk widened, eyes gleaming with imminent nonsense.
You were sure your dislike for the brunette couldn't get worse, but apparently at this moment it could.
"It’s about Iwa-chan." He said in the tone that you knew was trouble.
Your soul left your body.
Had your fixation finally been discovered?
Was this it? Was this how your social demise began?
Was Oikawa going to run through the halls, yelling about how you were a creepy loser who had been admiring Iwaizumi from afar for—ugh, God knows how long?
Would Iwaizumi hear about it? Hate you forever?
Would you die alone, never having had a boyfriend, and have your only legacy be a tragic cautionary tale?
Should you just settle in Antarctica, adopt a penguin, and start anew?
That trail of thought was shattered when Oikawa let out a whistle, snapping you back to cruel, unbearable reality.
"Daydreaming I see." he hums obnoxiously. You hated when Oikawa used that tone—the kind of tone people used when they were about to ruin your entire life for the sake of entertainment.
"I—who—what?" you sputtered, nearly choking on your own existence. "What about Iwaizumi?"
You chuckle nervously as you try your level best to not make it apparent that you're quite literally very close to either asphyxiating yourself or the man in front of you.
Oikawa leaned in, looking far too pleased with himself. His grin was the kind that should have been humbled long back, and one that in this moment you wanted to rip right off of his pretty face.
"Oh, nothing. Just that you’re so painfully obvious it physically wounds me. The longing stares, the awkward stuttering. How could i possibly forget?"
Your dignity steadily evaporated with every word he spoke. Your eye twitched so hard you were worried you might unlock a new superpower. "Stop being nosy."
"Tragic." Oikawa shook his head, full of mock sorrow. "And yet, here you are, still completely unnoticed by Iwa-chan." He sighed as if your suffering personally pained him.
"If only there was a certain, gracious and handsome someone that could give you a solution."
You squinted, still unconvinced. Oikawa, as you knew him, would never help you out with decent intentions. "Why do I feel like this solution benefits you more than it benefits me?"
Oikawa placed a hand over his black hole of a heart, looking deeply wounded. "Do you not trust me?"
"No."
"That was fast."
"You didn’t even try to sound trustworthy."
"Fair." He hummed. "Alright, fine. I’ll be honest—I need a favor."
You stared at him, waiting for elaboration.
He smiled. You kept staring.
The longer he smiled, the more concerned you became. And undoubtedly suspicious of his hidden, dark intentions.
"...What kind of favor?"
"In exchange for said favor," Oikawa continued, dodging the question skillfully. "I’ll help you win over Iwaizumi."
You blinked, then burst out laughing.
"Oikawa," you wheezed, struggling to breathe, "what on earth makes you think I would ever take romantic advice from you? Man, you're funny." you wipe a fake tear from your eye to exaggerate.
"Excuse you!" Oikawa scoffed. "I am the reigning champion of charm and attractiveness—"
"You got dumped twice this year. It's only the start of the session."
"She was clearly intimidated by my aura—"
"She threw her drink at you."
"Details, details." Oikawa waved a hand, as if the entire incident was a mere technicality. "Point is, I can help you." He said as his smirk turned downright sinister. "And you, my dearest, have access to the restricted facility that I desperately need. The gym keys."
There it was,
The real reason for this buffoonery.
"So let me get this straight. You’re offering me dating advice—which you have zero business giving, by the way—so that I can sneak you into the gym like some black-market shady dealer?"
"Exactly!"
You inhaled slowly. Exhaled even slower. Considered your life choices.
"...How many times do you need in?"
"Every night for the next few weeks."
You pinched the bridge of your nose "Geez, Oikawa. Why do you even need it that much?"
"The coach has restricted me from using the court after school so I don't 'overwork myself'." he air quotes the two words and chuckles as if it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.
"We'll be breaking into the gym?"
"What? Nooooo," Oikawa lies.
You stare at him,
He stared back.
You stared harder,
He smiled wider.
"I'll get my prefect rights taken, along with the gym key if anyone discovers this. Maybe even get the wonderful gift of suspension."
"Which is why we're breaking in." Oikawa adds, casually sipping on his juice box.
"...I hate you so much."
"Aw, you don't need to thank me. We start tomorrow. "
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Oikawa Tooru had mainly three goals in life:
1. Win an international volleyball championship.
2. Look sexy while doing it.
3. Torture you at every available opportunity.
And judging by the shit-eating grin on his face, you were about to bear the full brunt of number three.
"What are we doing here?" You said blankly, confused by your surroundings.
“Sex appeal.”
You blinked, “What in the-?”
Oikawa folded his arms, nodding sagely like he had just delivered some ancient and mystical word of truth, “You need more sex appeal.”
.......
You look at him dead in the eye, daring him to repeat what he just said.
Oikawa met your gaze, eyes twinkling with pure audacity.
“…Pardon?” You finally said, voice eerily calm.
“Sex appeal!” He repeated cheerfully, zero hesitation laced.
Your fist clenched beside you. “You're asking for a beating."
“Easy, easy—hear me out first.” He reached into his bag, rummaging around dramatically.
“Now, you might be wondering, ‘Oikawa, you stunning, intellectual specimen of a man, how can I possibly achieve this?’ Well, lucky for you, I anticipated this moment.” He goes into the storage room with a marker in his hand.
And from god knows where, he dragged out a whiteboard.
Not just any whiteboard. A massive, oversized, where-the-hell-did-you-even-get-this whiteboard.
With flourish and flair, he flipped it around. Scrawled in thick, messy handwriting were the words:
"HOW TO GET WITH YOUR CRUSH 101."
That made you cringe, physically. But the worst part—the part that made your entire soul try to evacuate your body and bile rise to your oesophagus, was the horrifyingly crude, disturbingly detailed drawing of you and Iwaizumi making out, and God knows what else, underneath it.
Oikawa beamed with pride like he had just presented the Mona Lisa.
"TA-DA~! I'm a little bit of a revolutionary artist you see"
Your eye twitched.
“Iwaizumi and (name) , sitting on a tree—K-I-S-S-I—”
You launched your fist straight at him. Barely dodging your fist, he stops you in your action as he grips your wrist gently but firmly.
“Violence is never the answer!”
“You drew this?!”
“Well, yeah—”
“With detail?!”
“I wanted to capture the passion—”
“There's tongue, Oikawa.”
“I’m thorough!”
You grabbed the nearest textbook and hurled it at his head.
He ducked, laughing his ass off, before quickly spinning the board around and uncapping a red marker.
“Ahem, back to business.” He scribbled 'Stage 1' in obnoxiously bold letters and underlined it three times.
“Stage One: Glow up, Show up, Make him blow up.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“No.” He dramatically pointed the marker at you. “See, right now, you’re what we in the romance industry call ‘a tragic case.’”
You stared at him in both disgust and disinterest “Romance industry?”
He ignored you.
"You walk like a pissed-off goblin, you talk like a pissed-off goblin, you eat like you’ve been starved in a dungeon for ten years. It's not what guys are looking for " Oikawa has the nerve to say all this with that phony smile plastered on his, stupid, stupid face.
“I couldn't care less about that. Just get this over with."
"Not before you help me out on my part of the deal too." He grinned, twirling the marker. "Fix your posture, smooth out your rough-ass personality, and most importantly, Iwa-chan must see you in a whole new light."
“...You’re insane.”
"And yet, I’m your only hope."
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