Hard to Say [i.h & o.t]

prologue

prologue.

Iwaizumi Hajime had a fucked up life. No one, and he means, no one could ever say otherwise. There were three issues he had to deal for the time being. For starters, he had to deal with his parents expectations, having to be raised into a disciplined family full of lawyers and doctors, he was expected to stay in course. Second, there was the fact that the captain of the volleyball team―

"Iwa-chan!"

Speaking of the fucking devil.

Iwaizumi sighed, glancing at the newcomer who was practically huffing for his breath. Iwaizumi scoffed. So much for being an athlete. Oikawa Tooru a.k.a manifestation of pest itself was loudly huffing in the doorway, sweat beads flowed like water from his face down the wooden floor, milk chocolate eyes stared at him, a small smile showing on his lips.

He was much taller than he was, having only to be a hundred and seventy-nine centimeters while oikawa was over a hundred and eighty-four. His thighs were well-defined, the fabric sticking through his well-defined body, his chest was broad, firm and somewhat strong and his hands―damn it.

The third problem was the most troublesome one.

Oikawa ran his long ebony fingers through his chocolate brown hair, which was sticking to almost every direction, wet with sweat. His fingers laced through every strand of his hair, those long-laced fingers — Iwaizumi blinked.

Fuck.

"Iwa-chan..."

"You're late, Trashykawa." He cuts off, glaring at the taller boy. "What were you doing?"

Oikawa let out a laugh. "Loving my fangirls, Iwa-chan. What else?"

Iwaizumi glared feverishly at Oikawa, preferably, he glared at his hands which was tugging the hem of his wet shirt, clutching the fabric as Oikawa raised it above his head. Then, it skimmed through the shirt, almost softly. The sight was almost tempting, long fingers gracefully flying from one place to another.

"Iwa-chan!"

Iwaizumi blinked, averting his gaze from Oikawa's long fingers. "What?"

"You've been glaring at my shirt, Iwa-chan." The captain pouted, hands fumbling through his bag for an extra shirt. "It's not my fault those girls throw themselves at me."

"People who are shameless are the worst." He replied. "Go warm-up and we'll start practice."

"Jealousy would make you old, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi glared at Oikawa. No one but iwaizumi could do that; not that anyone had ever tried. God forbid, Oikawa is too young to be a murderer.

Oikawa pouted but obeyed without complaint this time. Iwaizumi sighed, relief washing over him. Damn it. He did it again. Sighing, he combed his hair with his hands in frustration.

Issue number three was too much for him too handle.

Of all people. Why fucking Oikawa Tooru?

Iwaizumi glanced at Oikawa again, his long fingers formed in a straight line, showing every curve and callousness it held.

Iwaizumi cursed again.

He just had to have a hand fetish and of all people to direct it to, his mind had chosen none other than Oikawa Tooru.

Ah, what a fucked up life. The gods must be laughing at him.

-

« first attempt on haikyu!! fanfiction and i just had to do this. oh well. have mercy :))) i'm just going to leave this here»