Certainty | Oikawa Tooru

First Act

Oikawa Tōru was a performer: an entertainer of sorts.

He was both the conductor and the composer of the metaphorical orchestra clad in white and teal, constantly analyzing and processing each movement in the orchestra to set up each staccato accent with pinpoint precision. He was the natural-born leader of the group — the pragmatic epitome of charisma itself. He was the figure his team looked up to for inspiration and the face that everyone admired and watched silently in awe.

One could argue that he was a comedian as well: he served as the mood-maker of the group, raising up team morale in his unique quirky way while facilitating the electrifying unity of the team whether it be in game or during practice. He needed his team to be tight-knit, he needed them all to be giving more than their all. As the ringleader leading the bewitching talents of the circus, the success of the collective weighed entirely on his shoulders alone. Each step he took must be perfect — there was no room for error.

Practice made perfect, and Oikawa made sure to practice a lot. He was a performer through and through — a class act of sorts. Everything he did had to be perfect, and if it wasn't, then he would practice until it was. His role as the setter was one he treated with utmost respect and care, staying behind late and practicing, practicing, and practicing until his hands were red and blood caked underneath his nails.

It had come without surprise when he received the offer for him to join the team in Argentina on the phone right after the new year began. Club Athletico San Juan, a Division 1 team in the Argentinian league based more than 10,000 miles away from home, had set their sights on the skills Oikawa had shown off so many times on center stage.

The choice was obvious, and when he had told you about the offer, he had watched with quiet relief as your face widened into a proud grin. You had slapped him on the back, your hand wrinkling the back of his freshly ironed white shirt, and lectured him on "wasting precious time" telling you about the opportunity when he should have immediately gone ahead to accept it.

Your face had been painted over in shades of pride, elation, glee, and boisterous excitement as you shook him by the shoulders, your own happiness getting the best of you as you rocked him back and forth while chattering on about how this was the opportunity of a lifetime — that this was proof that the world had kept watching this whole time. Oikawa couldn't hold back his smile that day, and for once in a long time, the corners of his lips stretched to the edges of his face in a lopsided and goofy grin.

The expression seldom appeared on his face — it was imperfect, boorish, and unbefitting of an award-winning performer. Anywhere else he would have resisted the urge to contort his lips into such a shape, but with you he felt safe; with you he felt like he could be himself.

The day he was scheduled to leave was the morning after his high school graduation ceremony. Perhaps it was a hasty decision to make, having only gotten the offer two months prior, but with your and his family's encouragement, he had made the decision to arrive as soon as possible to get properly settled in before training formally began. After all, he had been cast as a professional volleyball player on the world stage — it was a role of a lifetime. He needed everything to be perfect to properly get into character.

He had been both eagerly awaiting and dreading the day of his graduation — the day where he would put on his school uniform one last time, the day where he would finally receive proof of his hard work over the years he spent in school, the day before he would depart for the other side of the world... The day before he would have to say goodbye to his memories with you.

As he turned around the corner in his search for you, he heard hiccups of a familiar voice bounce off the walls. A familiar voice that brought about fond memories of the sun and of intoxicating laughter, yet sounded in this moment of hurt and of loss. With his back pressed against the wall, his hand clutching on tight to his rolled up diploma, he peaked behind his shoulder and watched as you stood by the windows of the hallway, your scroll forgotten and discarded to the side as you frantically rubbed at your eyes with the corners of your sleeves.

So you had been hiding those thoughts as well.

The excitement from earlier had all but dissipated, leaving behind a look of guilt in its wake. Please do not put on such a sad face, he pleaded in his mind while biting hard on his bottom lip in silent frustration. Please don't cry for someone like me. He quietly stepped into the hallway, his heel digging into the freshly polished floors before the rest of his foot gently followed.

"(f/n)?"

You looked up, your eyes red and your face tear-stained, to meet the poignant smile that Oikawa had painted on as he approached you from the end of the hallway.

"Hey," you greeted as your hands flew up to erase the traces of your grief. "What's up?"

Oikawa swallowed back a gulp as he watched as a smile returned to your face. You leaned down to pick your diploma back up, giving it a light pat to brush off the dust on the bottom.

He could divulge to you his own worrisome thoughts — how he had been haunted by the looming reality that was to come when the two of you bid your separate ways — but what use was it to bring about such pessimistic despondency? He licked at his bottom lip as his chest expanded and relaxed; no, he needed to stay strong for you. The curtain hadn't closed just yet; he had to stay in character.

"If you keep crying like how you do after watching a romcom, your eyes will get all red and puffy like a spoilt tomato," he teased with a grin as he reached up to pinch at your cheeks, stretching them out to guide the corners of your mouth back into the radiant smile he had so much adored.

He didn't want to give this up either — he wanted so badly himself to just rip off the lock and shed the tears he slaved so hard to hold back. The thought of having to leave you was unbearable for him, but if you were working so hard to hide it from him, then he couldn't afford to give in to something as foolish as selfish emotion.

"I do not look like a spoilt tomato, shut up you dumbass," you sniffed as you swatted at his hands to shake him off. He shrugged as he lifted his hands off from your face, taking advantage of your sudden loss of balance to catch you in his chest in a tight hug.

"Did you know that pumpkins grew on trees?" Oikawa murmured into your ear, his voice low and husky. He leaned back against the window, stifling a chuckle as he stared at the puzzled confusion on your face.

"Tōru, you do realize that's a blatant lie, right?"

Of course he did, but he had to stay faithful to his character.

"What?! No way!" he gaped in feigned shock. "I was so sure it was real! I even told Iwa-chan about it and promised him milk bread that I wasn't lying this time!"

Your laughter erupted from your chest as fresh tears lined the edges of your eyelids — this time bursting out from the sheer absurdity and ridiculousness of Oikawa's supposed gullibility. He chuckled as he reached a hand up to pinch at your cheeks again, his expression cheeky with satisfaction.

It had returned — the laugh he had loved so much. The sound that was brighter than the final bell chiming after a long day; the sound that rivalled even the beauty of the sparrow's song. The sound that was so infectious and spellbinding that he could never help but stare back with the softest of smiles as he basked in your joy. The sound of your happiness that he vowed to always protect.

Oikawa Tōru knew he was a fool, but if it meant being able to see your smile, he would gladly continue on with the act of a jester.