Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5564551.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Haikyuu!!
  Relationship:
      Kageyama_Tobio/Oikawa_Tooru
  Character:
      Oikawa_Tooru, Kageyama_Tobio, Iwaizumi_Hajime
  Additional Tags:
      Masturbation, Self-Harm, Angst, Vomiting, lots_and_lots_of_self-hatred,
      Autoerotic_Asphyxiation, Sensory_Deprivation, Masochism
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-12-28 Updated: 2016-01-03 Chapters: 2/4 Words: 11663
****** Diverse Upset ******
by rockholmes
Summary
     in which Oikawa deals with conflicting feelings regarding Kageyama,
     stomach problems, and a lot of self-hatred fueled hypersexuality.
Notes
     aka Oikawa learns that hey, maybe being nice to Kageyama might
     actually be a good idea or something.
     and it only takes him 6,000 words to figure it out.
     listen okay so I started writing this and I was like "idk this is a
     little dark for a volleyball manga is it too ooc" then I remembered
     Furudate is horror manga trash and honestly that motivated me to
     finish this. there are three other chapters and they're not going to
     be nearly as long as this one I just wanted buildup more than
     anything, and Oikawa Self Hatred.
     tags will be edited and added to as the other three chapters come
     out.
***** for the best *****
Tooru Oikawa has always associated Tobio Kageyama with negative feelings.
It's not really something he'd planned. It just happened. They'd just both been
in the wrong places at the wrong time. Both in the same middle school, both
interested in volleyball, both shooting for the stars. They'd been destined
rivals from the start, he reasons. Even ignoring all of the specific
circumstances surrounding the details of the two's rocky relationship, that
much had to have been inevitable.
It isn't like those details had been insignificant, though.
No, not at all. He thinks his feelings wouldn't nearly be so strong if it
hadn't been for them.
The first time he experiences this is when he's substituted in a game for
Tobio.
It's heartbreaking. Absolutely devastating, he thinks, to be replaced. It's
especially bad, since it's by someone younger than him. Tobio had been a
genius, someone naturally talented at volleyball, someone who'd consistently be
good no matter if he put the extra effort in or not. And that had been the seed
that planted a giant tree of resentment for the younger player.
Being on the sidelines when you want more than anything else to play is truly
despairing. It's worse when you have full view of the person who was put in to
replace you. Clearly, Tobio's better. That's the only reason he'd been put in.
Tobio is just better.
Prior to that game, they hadn't even really interacted with each other. There
had been no need. Tobio seemed fine on his own and Tooru had friends already.
They were in the same club, on the same team, but they'd never really been
close, or even remotely personal with each other. That event, however, had
sparked a fire where nothing had even been present before.
It sparked hatred. It sparked self-loathing. Or, at least, the beginning of
such.
That night, he'd flopped onto his bed, feeling defeated regardless of the
actual outcome of the game. Because it didn't matter to him. It wasn't a
victory he'd personally earned, so what was the point?
Worthless. Absolutely worthless, he thinks to himself.
It's the first time he's felt so betrayed, so belittled. He buries his face in
his hands and feels like he's about to cry or something when he's confronted
with a play-by-play of the day's game. Of Tobio's every movements, of his
masterful, geniusplay style. He's always been able to remember details of games
extremely well, but now, that ability feels like a curse. That calm and
collected setter stands out more than anyone else. It's disgusting. It's
irritating. It annoys Tooru beyond explanation.
Tooru shifts to his side, face still covered, and he realizes a bit of an
issue.
There's some strange tightness in his pants, for some reason. He thinks,
really, now is not the time to be having this problem,but he's growing and a
young teenager and he just can't stop it. There's nothing he can do about it,
so he tries not to think about it too much. He's not even sure what brought
this on, not sure why this would have just randomly happened.
He figures it's his body's way of telling him to relax, to get his mind off of
things, no big deal at all. His body probably reacted his way because it wants
him to just stop thinking about it already.
That's what he reasons, anyway.
Yet that doesn't seem to be the case.
Still, still, he can't get his mind off of how useless he feels, that
overwhelming jealousy and resentment and aggression seeping deep into his skin
and making his eyes squeeze shut in frustration. His mind wanders to the
perfect form of Tobio, to the maddening and ridiculous way he's able to drive
the team to victory single-handedly, to just how much better he is and probably
always will be.
Tooru's stomach churns and he gets the urge to throw up. He doesn't.
Instead, he reaches down and starts half-heartedly jerking himself off,
clenching his teeth. He opens his eyes, but the image doesn't disappear, Tobio
is still there, the game replaying like a movie, showing even angles he hadn't
been able to see at the time from the bench.
It just makes him angrier, makes him want to punch something, makes him want to
lash out more than anything else. His fingers twitch at the thought, and then
go to his neck, and his nails dig down, scratching from the bottom of his chin
to his chest, stretching the collar of his shirt. Repeating the action, he
tries desperately to make himself bleed, to finally feel a cool liquid stretch
upon his fingers, but it just doesn't happen. He figures his nails are just too
dull, too blunt, and he instead goes to the arm belonging to his busy hand.
Bluish-black hair is the only thing you even remember. Your concentration on
him is pathetic, but you can't help it, you can't help it.
The strokes are faster now, hurting somewhat, his dick feeling dry and a small
bit cold from exposure and the temperature of his room, but he can't say he
feels the urge to stop even as his eyes start to water. Nails dig, then, into
his arm and his movements slow, then furiously speed up as he slides his
fingers up and down, scraping up skin.
Ah, there he is, playing the game so much better than you, being so much better
than you...
After a while, there's a feeling of wetness and he looks down. Through the
reddened, ripped skin is several smeared blots of blood, and he almost stops,
but he can't, he's not done, he's not finished yet. It's not enough, he thinks,
and he scratches up and down his shaft. He doesn't like it much, not really,
but it doesn't seem to make him soft and only serves to work him up even more.
The vision of Tobio with blood and skin beneath his fingernails sends Tooru
over the edge.
For a moment, he thinks he'll fall asleep, but wills himself awake.
He's a boy and he figures that masturbation is a normal thing for kids his age.
It is, isn't it? But this kind of thing probablyisn't what normal people do, is
it?
He closes his eyes, then opens them fully and sees the white streaks of semen
on his leg, feels the burning on his dick and his neck, sees the blotchy skin
of his arm, and flinches away, deciding instead to stare up at the ceiling. His
face is wet with unshed tears, breath finally slowing down, though sounding
like a faint, pale wheeze. He's a mess. He can't sleep like this.
Shame sits like a fire in his stomach, feeding into his desire to vomit all
throughout the time he bathes. For some reason, despite the fact that his
feelings haven't changed, he experiences a sudden want to apologize to Tobio.
He's not really sure what for, since he wouldn't be willing or able to explain
this situation, but the emotion is still there.
After he gets some rest, the entire ordeal feels like a dream, but the aching
in his arm tells him it definitely had been real. He doesn't do anything like
that again for some time, coming to the conclusion that it'd been a way of
harming himself and that he wouldn't want anyone else to know about it. So, he
thanks the schoolboard inwardly for long sleeved uniforms and wears longer
elbow pads than usual.
If anyone notices anything strange about his entire right arm while in the
changing room, no one says anything.
He does worry about how quiet everyone goes, though, and almost can feel eyes
stabbing into his back whenever his shirt's off. Still, no one says anything.
At least his team has some decency.
===============================================================================
Ever since Iwaizumi - wonderful, masterful Iwa-chan - snapped Tooru out of his
moment of despair, every negative emotion toward Tobio had dulled
significantly. They're still there, lingering like an annoying bug, but they're
not overbearing anymore. It's like they've become muffled over time, made
almost insignificant because of his determination to better himself, his
resolve to start working with others as a cohesive unit.
How sad, how horrible, he thinks, that it all spawned from a moment of such
weakness, from a moment where, if Iwaizumi hadn't been there, he'd actually
have physically lashed out at Tobio. Even in the front of his mind where he can
try desperately to justify the verbal abuse against the younger boy, to tell
himself countless times that he's not just a bully, there'd have been no way
he'd be able to forgive himself had something like that actually happened. He'd
never be able to face Tobio again, never be able to get over his self-hatred.
But that's essentially what had already happened. The expression on Tobio's
face made it look like he'd actuallybeen hit. Though the action hadn't truly
happened, the precedent was set from then on.
"Sorry..."
He'd said it once under his breath as he stared off into space and thought
about what he'd just done, and then never again.
After entering high school, he starts to pride himself on his work more than
anything, if only because he knows that's the one thing he'll always, no matter
what, be able to beat Tobio at.
Sometimes, during his first two years of high school, he had been able to
forget about Tobio Kageyama completely, even when playing volleyball. Because
he needs to focus on his team, not some outside force that might destroy
everything he's built up, everything he's helped build up.
For his first two years of high school, he moulds himself into what he's sure
can help his teammates work to their greatest potential. Even Iwaizumi notices,
gradually, because they've known each other for so long. He notices how Tooru
works himself, not just for the sake of improving on his own, but for the sake
of aiding everyone else in their journeys to improve.
And, yet...
Time goes on.
A pressure begins to build after his last big, official game in his second
year. Because he knows what's coming. It's an impending, looming doom of sorts,
though more annoying and exhausting than anything else. It's a feeling of, oh,
here we go. A feeling that everything he's worked to make will be struck
through, shot down, completely decimated and he'll have absolutely no chance to
recover from it, even if he wants to.
The second year ends, his third year begins, and the feeling only gets worse.
He knows why.
It's his last year in high school when he finally sees first year Tobio
Kageyama.
It's...weird.
Because, for some reason, in middle school, you don't feel too far away from
each other in terms of age. Everyone feels like they're pretty much the same,
really, and it doesn't make as much of a difference on a sports team whether
you're in one year or the next. High school, though? There's a hugedifference
between a first year and a third year. They feel like they're decadesapart.
Tooru has long since grown into a more pointed chin, more adult features,
broader shoulders than before. Tobio, though, barely looks older than the last
time they'd seen each other. His cheeks retain a level of puff, his body still
lanky. It's weird. Beyond weird.
Almost, he thinks, he can almost create the image of a proud yet competitive
upperclassman. He nearly successfully does it to the shrimp, but Tobio already
knows what kind of person he is, already knows who and what he really can be.
He's not impressed, nor is he convinced of anything new. It pisses Tooru off
more than he'd ever care to admit or show.
The practice match between them doesn't really count at all and both teams know
it. If he were completely honest, one driving force behind him staying out of
the first part of the game was so that it would drive home the point that the
game really didn'tcount. He thinks he got that across.
Still, he knew there had to be an actual match between them eventually. And, of
course, there was.
Beating Karasuno once gives him a ray of hope.
He knows it's not something that will last, knows they'll end up facing each
other again later, but it just feels so goodat the time. Genuinely good. He's
happy and his team is happy and everyone he cares about is just so happy. It's
all he could have ever asked for. Iwaizumi in particular is amazing to look at
with how excited he is, the pride of the ace showing through more than ever
before.
It's the only reason his hope isn't snuffed out the moment his team loses to
Karasuno.
They've lost before and it's hurt just as much, sometimes worse, but the thing
with volleyball is that there's always a new way to lose.
There's always a new way to hate yourself for letting that last point get
scored by the other team.
But Tooru's learned time and time again that as the captain, this isn't when he
can express grief. He needs to be there for the rest of his team, to help them
get back on their feet and stay steady. This is the time to put his talent to
use the most. He can't think about himself right now. At least, not in the
open.
Confronting Ushijima makes him feel better, if only a little bit.
He can feign some sense of vicarious pride through Tobio's actions, since
everyone sees the two as kouhaiand senpai, so it's easy to inadvertantly
threaten Shiratorizawa's captain with how strong Karasuno's gotten. It's a lie,
completely false, because he doesn't really feel pride whenever Tobio helps
score a point or makes a smart move. It's nearly entirely annoyance and
exasperation. But he can pretend.
And he can certainly continue fighting. There's no chance that he'd give up
just because Ushijima tells him he'd made the wrong decision, or because he
lost to Tobio. That's not the type of person he is.
That's not the type of person he's ever been.
===============================================================================
Honestly, he doesn't plan on going to see the game between Shiratorizawa and
Karasuno, at first.
He doesn't! It's not a lie when he says he won't be happy with whoever wins or
loses. He doesn't like either of them, and he says so aloud without hesitation.
Even he inwardly cringes at just how childish he's being, tries to scream at
himself to stop, to just walk away, to leave it alone and never, ever return,
but he can't help it. There's no way he can help it. He just has so much anger,
so many insecurities bottled up inside of him that he can't just keep pushing
down and pushing down because it's already full, there's no more damn room,
he's got nowhere to put all of it.
And so here it is, out in the open, floating in the air and turning into the
deep tension and animosity radiating off of him.
Sitting in the stands, glasses propped up on his nose, he can't say with any
amount of certainty that he's rooting for either of them, exactly. But he's
thought about this logically, and he thinks, well. His team has already beaten
Karasuno once, so if Karasuno were to beat Shiratorizawa, he'd feel at least
some sense of accomplishment, in a way.
It helps that his threat from earlier would sound kind of stupid if
Shiratorizawa were to win here.
So, he's not exactly rootingfor Karasuno, but he'd be marginally lesspissed off
if they were to win, all things considered.
And it hadn't even really seemed possible, just sounded like the best case
scenario, but the fifth set finally comes to a close after what feels like an
eternity, both teams looking like they're about to pass out. Even the people
cheering on the sidelines look exhausted, having been on edge for much longer
than most are used to, the game taking everything out of them all.
The score becomes clear.
Karasuno won.
The entire stadium abruptly explodes into screams and cheers and chanting. Even
some rooting for Shiratorizawa are cheering, because no one's beaten them like
this before, no underdog team has gotten this far. Everyone, even those
completely unrelated to Karasuno, are just so proudthat the unpredictable
outlasted the steel coated aggression of a powerhouse school.
It's all so overwhelming for Tooru. At first he's not sure what to feel, not
sure how he's feeling, and he turns to his side and -
Iwaizumi's staring at him with an almost blank face, eyebrows upturned in
surprise, or amusement, or something. "You're smiling."
"What, I - "
And just like that, he's not. The smile he hadn't even realized was on his face
is gone in an instant and Tooru narrows his eyes, looking down to the court.
He...really wassmiling. Is he happy? He feels happy, in a way, sort of. That's
mostly because Ushijima's finally been beaten, that unbreakable wall has been
smashed down into a million pieces, and it had been by a team everyone
considered the underdogs.
He clarifies after they leave the stadium, and it sounds just as desperate out
loud as it had in his head.
"You know, I only smiled because I liked seeing Shiratorizawa finally
destroyed. Should I be happy for Karasuno? I'm not. I already said I wouldn't
be," and that's not really true, but it's not entirely false, either.
On one hand, he's glad to see Ushiwakaget crushed into the ground, but on the
other, it's by that same damn force, that darkness, that void that overcame his
own team beforehand. But that pride he'd attempted to fake earlier no longer
feels so fake. It's like he's emotionally sharing in their accomplishment, like
seeing a team such as Shiratorizawa get beaten is enough to make him feel like
he's won, even if he hadn't been the one to do it.
Iwaizumi just snorts, face contorting into irritation, and calls him some name
that Tooru doesn't even really register before walking out.
===============================================================================
He's thankful that Iwaizumi had left the building before him, because he'd
promptly put an order in for a copy of the recorded game.
He knew he'd get a disapproving look from his ace otherwise.
While watching the game, he'd been in the back row, hunched over, hiding
somewhat. He hadn't wanted anyone to see him, especially from Karasuno, though
the viewpoint hindered his ability to follow everything on the court and made
it absolutely impossible for him to hear anything. Still, he thought that he'd
gotten a decent enough grasp of the events during each set.
He'd been wrong.
Well, not exactly wrong. He understood the basicsof what had happened, but
witnessing the playback put things into a new light. Cameras were much closer,
picking up the speech of both teams, picking up the important points up close.
He misses the first five or so minutes of the game the first time it plays on
television, but the recording was to arrive in a few days, so he figures he can
go back at any point.
That one glasses guy, Tsukishima, had the skin on his hand almost shredded.
Though Tooru's dealt with that sort of thing before, had to bandage up his own
fingers countless times in the past, and isn't toosurprised at the blond's
focused, determined expression. It looks a lot worse than it actually is. It
must hurt, and Tooru is almost shocked that there's no outward sign of pain. He
decides that's why he hadn't been able to fully tell that the first year had
even been injured before.
Up close, he can tell that those eyes don't care about the dripping blood.
They're only focused on one thing.
Playing. Winning.
His throat goes dry and he digs his nails into his side. Swallowing
tentatively, he tries to keep the shifting in his abdomen at a minimum.
The red on the first year's hand looks tantalizing, in a way, but he doesn't
think about that.
Tooru will give Karasuno some credit. They are funny, at least. Watching them
interact with each other is something like watching a sitcom. He finds himself
letting out huffs of laughter every time one of them overreacts and when the
others begin to overreact as well, and he's grateful for it, in a way, because
it makes watching the video more entertaining than painful. For the most part.
Tobio and the shrimp are just absolutely unbearableto watch. They're like if
you mixed trust and unfailing companionship and dual passion for volleyball
with the absolute worstpersonality dynamic ever. They almost act like one
player on the court. Their desires to score blend into each other, creating an
eager, bullheaded force. That only really applies when they're not speakingto
each other, though. When they are...
"You better watch out for the back of your head."
Of course. Their animosity toward each other shines brightly, though it doesn't
quite seem volitile enough to be a genuine hindrance. Like an old married
couple,he thinks jokingly, and wonders why that thought leaves such a bad taste
in his mouth.
"That toss was too high, right? I'll fix it next time."
He inwardly groans, yet he's surprised to find that the feeling of dread he'd
expected to have isn't quite so strong, and for some reason, a strange sense of
pride is mixed in with it. Because Tooru knows he's at least partially
responsible for this change, for this development in his small underclassman.
Maybe, he thinks, just maybe that's part of becoming an adult, or something.
The rest of the game doesn't give him much more than what he'd already been
able to see, and he retires for bed that night.
He'd just assumed the first five minutes of the game wouldn't make a huge
difference, wouldn't be important enough to warrant a rewatch, but he does it
anyway just for the sake of curiosity. Tooru's always rewatched games, anyway,
especially games of those he's lost against. And in that game are twoof such
teams, so when the package with the recording arrives, he works on homework for
around an hour before going to his television and starting up the video.
And for the most part, he's right. The beginning of the game is a phase of both
teams getting used to each other's play styles and learning exactly how a
powerhouse does against a team of limitless possibilities.
Karasuno starts off weak and frantic. He'd seen the end of that in his first
watch, but it's even worse in the very beginning, and for good reason. Everyone
is rightfully nervous to be going up against Shiratorizawa, against Ushijima.
Almosteveryone.
The little shrimp is perfectly fine. Hinata's face is more determined than
anything else, even moreso now than Tooru had ever seen before. It's
intimidating up close.
It seems that everyone notices how Tobio is perfectly collected. He's not
worked up and, though he's likely anxious, it doesn't show. Every movement is
methodical, planned out and with purpose, just like always. And even his
teammates recognize this, commenting through the noise of the crowd and the
various sounds on the court about just how clear his mind is and - hold on.
Tooru freezes.
He can'thave heard that right.
An eyebrow is raised and he doesn't quite register what he'd thought exited his
underclassman's lips. He shakes his head, reaches over, and promptly rewinds
the video a few seconds, and listens closely.
"You're pretty calm, even though we're up against Shiratorizawa!"
"There's no one more frightening to go up against than Oikawa-san."
Oh,he thinks. Oh.
Tooru's heart and head are pounding before he even notices it. When did that
happen? His vision starts to shake a bit and he's not paying attention to the
video anymore, he realizes. Suddenly he thinks back to the night in middle
school, just after he'd been switched out for Tobio, how he'd touched himself
and scratched himself until he bled and how sharp his emotions had been,
cutting into him just like how he'd been doing to himself.
He thinks back to that night a lot more than he'd like to, but now, it's
ridiculously vivid.
His head's shaking, for some reason, and he turns off the television. The lack
of noise puts him on edge, makes him think with clarity and he lets out a loud
huff, closing his eyes, putting both his hands at the sides of his head.
Fingers tighten around his short hair and they pull hard, causing his head to
throb even more.
Afraid of you.
One hand lets go and he shifts his sitting position until his legs are folded
beneath him and he's able to shove it down his pants to take care of a
different throbbing. The fingers of one hand pull at his hair, trying
desperately to tear it out, and scratch at his head while his other squeezes
his cock to the point where it hurts more than feels good, but he doesn't care,
because this is what he deserves.
Tears run down his face before he feels them, mind focused entirely on the
pain. He moves his head from side to side and pulls harder, feels some strands
of hair rip out, and he begins hitting his head against the hand repeatedly.
His eyes are shut throughout the whole ordeal, grunts leaving through gritted
teeth all the while, breath erratic as he starts to realize he's
hyperventilating, but he doesn't stop pumping at himself because he needs this,
he's needed his for a while now, he needsto do this, even if it killshim.
Holy shit,has he neededthis.
In his mind, he sees Tobio standing over him, a towercompared to his kneeling
self, and he feels the cum spill into his hand and against the fabric at a face
that shows none of the usual apprehension and anxiety always present in the
realTobio.
Both hands are immediately out of his pants and away from his head, as if
they'd just touched something scorching, and he stands, hesitating for a moment
at the disgusting feeling of his shorts. Yet he bears with it, stumbling out of
his room with a massive headache and seemingly every single part of him in dull
pain. Somehow, his legs carry him all the way to the end of the hall and into
the bathroom and he shuts and locks the door behind him.
His knees give out next to the toilet and this time, he really doesthrow up.
It's bitter and gross, just like himself.
The few minutes after are a blur as he bathes himself and brushes his teeth,
washing away all physical signs of disgust, but still retaining all the mental
ones.
After that, he slips into bed and resolves not to go to school the next day,
though only because he knows there won't be any volleyball practice scheduled
for the team. It's not shame that he feels, not exactly, though that is a part
of it. More than anything else, he feels an overwhelming sense of self-hatred,
of absolute loathing for who he is and what he's done.
It's a good thing that he doesn't go, because he ends up staying in his bed all
day, feigning sick.
Yet it doesn't feel particularly fake, since he really doesfeel sick. The
headache doesn't go away, only becomes easier to ignore, and his body feels
exhausted despite having not exerted any energy. He knows he wouldn't be able
to face anyone the way he is now, emotionally and physically drained as he is.
People would notice. People would ask questions. He wouldn't have answers.
His cell phone rings and he jumps, eyes widening, and he instinctively reaches
for it.
It's not everyday that he'd actually flinch at seeing Iwaizumi's name pop up as
the caller ID. In fact, he's usually happywhenever his best friend calls. But
not now, not when he's pretty much the only person who can actually tell when
Tooru's faking being okay or being not okay. He almost doesn't pick up, but he
knows that'd just piss Iwaizumi off even more, so his finger reluctantly swipes
to answer.
"Iwa-chan!"
Damn, he hasn't spoken all day, his voice cracks in a pathetic way. But he
keeps going, trying to act as upbeat as normal. "You're calling me! Aw...are
you worried about me?"
He hears a tchon the other end and can almost see Iwaizumi's eyebrows furrow in
frustration. "You weren't in school all day. I heard you were sick, and I
thought that was just a stupid excuse to practice harder on your own, but I
checked, and you weren't in the gym after school practicing by yourself,
either. Are you actuallysick?"
Tooru almost cries, legitimately, at the genuinely worried tone of his friend.
Maybe that's just because of how emotionally unstable he's feeling at the
moment, though. That's definitely it. He's glad there's the lingering suspicion
that he's actually, really sick, because he otherwise would have to go to great
lengths convincing Iwaizumi of what already is at least partially true.
In response, he laughs a broken, crooked laugh. It's audible how Iwaizumi
cringes. "It's only a cold. I'll get over it soon. No need to worry about
little old me!"
"Fine." There's a huff on the other end. "Fine, then. I'd better see you
tomorrow, Oikawa."
He only hums in reply, earning a concerned and irritated goodbyefrom the other
teen, and then the line goes quiet.
One arm stretches to cover his eyes and he lets out a long sigh. It's not that
he's managed to fool his best friend, not really, since Iwaizumi obviously
doesn't buy that it's justa cold and will probably interrogate him later on it,
but it's still an acheivement of sorts that the ace is subsided, for now.
It's the afternoon, now, and he's lost count of how many times he's gone back
to jacking off, just because he has nothing better to do and because, while the
feelings of before aren't nearly as strong, they're still lingering. Before,
he'd been able to chalk it up to him being a teenager, but damnit, he's
becoming an adult. Isn't this sort of thing a little bit concerning, now?
Especially when his person of focus happens to be two years younger than him.
That wouldn't normally be an issue, but in high school, it certainly feels like
it's an issue. More than that, it's someone he'd sworn he hated, or at least
held more animosity for than not, and now, he's not so sure how he feels.
His eyes shift over to the window, light shining on his skin.
All Tooru's done that day is hate himself and masturbate while hating himself.
He seriously needs to get out.
===============================================================================
Honestly, he's not sure why he hadn't thought of getting some stomach medicine
before. He's not sure if it's really just because of how he feels mentally or
if it's because he's actually sick, but he shouldn't take any chances.
The nearest convenience store is only a five minute trek, but he actually wants
to go for a long walk, so he decides to visit one he'd seen earlier on the
other side of town. Mainly, it's for the reason that he might be able to walk
off the sickness, but he also just wants some time to think for himself without
dealing with the fatigue that comes from lying in bed all day.
He's feeling a little bit better when he reaches the store, but it's not by
much. His nausea isn't any better and his head is still spinning a bit in a
groggy heat.
The aisles seem almost endless. Is this reallyjust a convenience store? He
thinks, maybe, that he's just deluding himself into thinking it's bigger than
it actually is, but he doesn't want to stay here too long, and he's not sure
where he'd even be able to find what he's looking for, not to mention the fact
that his headache is coming back, he's starting to reallyregret coming all the
way here.
Shaking his head, he walks a few steps into the first aisle and tries to sort
out his thoughts, think about where the pharmacy area might be, and -
"Oikawa-san?"
He jumps, eyes going wide.
Oh, he thinks, today really will notbe kind to him, will it?
Putting on his best cheerful-yet-dejected face, Tooru spins around a forces a
grin, not even trying to make it look genuine. "Tobio-chan," he starts in a
sing-song voice. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Huh?" the face of his underclassman is suspicious and confused. "This store
isn't even on your side of town, right? I should be more surprised to see you."
Immediately, he drops the smile and sighs, then closes his eyes momentarily. He
really can't deal with this right now. Sure, in the back of his mind, he knew
there was a possibility that he'd see someone from Karasuno here, and he even
considered the idea of seeing Tobio, but it hadn't really been a high enough
chance for him to refrain from going. Seriously, he isn't prepared for dealing
with this.
Not only that, but he's still both physically and emotionally exhausted, and
his mind is like a flat, hazy line. He doesn't have the energy for this
exchange.
Tobio hums in thought, narrowing his eyes. "Are you looking for something here,
Oikawa-san? I...know this place pretty well, but it can be hard to tell where
to go."
Finally, Tooru opens his eyes. He wants to say no, wants to reject his help so
badly, but he's never been here before and he actually has no idea where
anything is. He almost regrets not just going to the convenience store next to
his house, but he'd really needed the walk. Thinking, well, what the hell, he
replies. "Nausea medicine. I need nausea medicine."
The look on his little underclassman's face makes him turn away. It's even more
confusion, even more surprise, mixed with a level of concern he can't stomach
seeing right now. After a few moments, Tobio nods, likely debated about whether
to press the issue. "I see," he says, "They're over here."
It's annoying that he wouldn't just point to the aisle and leave it at that,
Tooru thinks for a moment, before Tobio starts speaking again, pointing to a
bottle with a green label. "Ah...this brand is best, I think. It's fast acting.
The others take too long to work, and by that time, whatever sickness you might
have would probably have worn off," I doubt that, he laughs inwardly in
response, but doesn't interrupt, "and it's cheaper than a lot of the others,
too."
Shrugging, Tooru takes one off the shelf and eyes the other setter, then lets
out a short breath. "Thanks," he says, then quickly moves to the checkout
counter.
His legs carry him out the door a lot faster than he thinks is necessary and he
looks straight ahead, speedwalking, not wanting to accidentally see Tobio in
his peripheral vision or something. He's halfway home before he slows down and
allows himself to think.
For some reason, his heart had started pounding before, and though it's slowed
down, he's still not completely calm.
He's feeling a bit better than before, though he can't pinpoint why, exactly.
Once he's home, he heads straight for his room and collapses onto the bed,
staring up at the ceiling. His mind is a bit clearer, now, and he's actually
getting back to being normal again. Or, as normal as he usually is. Now, his
stomachache has subsided considerably, and the phantom weight in the bottom of
his abdomen has lifted, but he can't tell why. He should be feeling worse, he
reasons, after seeing Tobio face-to-face, but he doesn't. It's the opposite.
He thinks for a moment, then comes to a realization.
Almost always, there's wounded pride mixed with that familiar self-loathing
whenever he interacts with Tobio. Thinking back on it now, though, the only
emotions he'd had from that encounter were gratitude and a casual feeling of
fondness. He hadn't said anything cutting or rude, he thinks as he reflects on
the few sentences they'd said to each other, mostly due to not being mentally
all there, but it feels...good, nonetheless. It feels nice to be nice, even to
him.
Even to him.
Other than the regular tension, there'd been no hostility between them. That
had been a completely normal encounter.
He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he should try that again.
***** of daydreams *****
Chapter Notes
     this chapter was a pain to write and it'll probably be a pain to read
     because of that. I want to get to writing the next one already
     because like. stuff actually happens there.
     honestly this one was boring to write because it's just basically The
     One Where Oikawa and Kageyama Officially Become Friends which like is
     cool I guess but ehhhhh. I guess you could also call this The One
     Where Iwaizumi Puts Up With A Lot Of Shit, but, well, that's always.
     tags added: auto-erotic asphyxiation, sensory deprivation, masochism
Some time passes after Tooru's little exchange with Tobio and he finds the
school year coming to a rapid close. It's only a few months until he graduates,
he realizes, and he's started anticipating what his college volleyball team
will be like and how he'll treat them, what kind of temperaments they'll all
have and how to deal with them simultaneously.
It's fun and it keeps his mind occupied.
Studying for finals and planning for after high school take up most of his
time, leaving him barely any for himself or for his personal life.
Tooru doesn't see Tobio very often.
And why wouldhe? He's busy. They go to different schools and they're in
different years. Not to mention that both schools are, all things considered,
fairly far apart. It's natural that they wouldn't exactly meet up regularly.
But now, it seems like any and every time he goes to the other side of town, he
sees Tobio, either by briefly passing each other or by eating at the same
restaurant or shopping at the same store. He doesn't even remember the last
time he'd said something exceptionally rude to Tobio, or the last time he'd
blatantly provoked him. Something about this everlasting fatigue is just
throwing his verbal game off.
It makes their encounters easier to bear, though.
They see each other twice a week, more or less, and it's something he's started
to...not exactly look forward to, but to expect.
He would almost think his underclassman is doing it on purpose, were henot
purposefully traveling long distances for no reason. It's like he wantsto see
the subject of so many of his current conflicting feelings, or something.
In a way, it's like their relationship has gone back to square one, back where
they'd been acquaintances, though they talk to each other more than friendly
strangers might. Anytime he plans to go out, he considers how inconvenient it
might be to take a longer walk than normal and, at this point, thinks of what
he'll say when he sees Tobio.
Maybe the underclassman just goes out a lot, he considers. It's almost
definitely Tooru who's the weird one here.
And yet, he doesn't stop going.
Sometimes, he finds himself purposefully not getting certain things on his
shopping lists so that he'll have to come back later. Other times, he tries to
justify eating so far away from his home by saying he should "burn off the
calories," as if he doesn't do that at practice, anyway. Tobio hasn't
questioned it at all, or, at least, he hasn't yet. Perhaps he's just trying to
find the correct way to bring it up.
Or maybe he's too scaredto bring it up, or something. But..that thought is kind
of laughable and unlikely.
One day, he decides to ask.
"Tobio-chan," he says one day casually after seeing the familier bluish-black
haired boy walk over. By now, he has a fairly good idea of how to navigate the
store, having visited more than a few times, and he mostly goes here for a
rather valid reason. The store nearer to his house doesn't sell the kind of
nausea relief medicine that he uses. "You come here pretty often. What do you
need so much of?"
Immediately, he silently berates himself. Damnit, wait, that's the first time
he's actually mentioned anything about how strangely coincidental their
meetings are. In fact, that's the first time either of them has said anything
about it. Tobio's face scrunches up and he frantically waves an index finger
around.
The extreme reaction is startling, but not unexpected. "You'rethe one who comes
here weirdly often!"I didn't say weirdly, Tooru thinks, but he simply stares in
exasperation. "I have to buy my own food. My parents are out of town for the
month."
Huh, well,is what the older of the two thinks. Turns out there actually is an
explanation.
"I see," he responds passively, trying his best to calm the situation down.
"Only wondering. No need to get defensive. And if you're thinking I have no
reason to be here, you're wrong. This is the only place I can get this kind of
medicine."
Some sort of emotion crosses Tobio's face then, something like surprise, as if
he's actually shocked that there's a legitimate reason for the other to be
there. But his expression has relaxed significantly and before he can respond,
Tooru begins to ask about the scheduling for next year's planned volleyball
games, specifically about which ones Karasuno will be playing in.
It keeps them both distracted long enough to forget about the tension.
===============================================================================
Confusion washes over Tooru as his eyes snap open.
He could have sworn he'd already gone back home, already fell into bed for a
nap, but here he is, still at the store with a bottle in his hand. Light fills
his eyes and there's a strange haziness around him, one even worse and even
more intense than how it's felt recently.
Desperately, he tries to clear his mind, to figure out exactly what's
happening. Then, there's a hand on the side of his stomach, and he jumps a bit
before turning his head back and seeing a familiar face.
He's not sure why, but he's not surprised to see Tobio there.
Though, what issurprising is just how close the two are in proximity. Tobio is
pressed up against his back, holding him in place. The chatter of the store is
loud, but he can't seem to spot anyone walking by, no one noticing whatever
strange thing is happening. He opens his mouth to question Tobio, but no words
come out, and he realizes faintly that the weight of the other is overwhelming
and suffocating.
And he's wondering exactly wherehis will to get away is.
Excuse me, what is happening, is the first thing that pops into his head, then
a million other things do, and he's frozen in a state of panicked alarm before
the situation sets in and he starts understanding what's going on, even a
little bit. There's movement behind him, almost mechanical, and it's Tobio
rubbing himself forward, and Tooru swallows nervously, feeling himself get
worked up.
He turns his head, trying to see what kind of expression the other teen might
have.
Fingers are then outstretched against his eyes, blocking his vision entirely,
twisting his head forward. The hand at his side slides up, rubbing at his chest
and pulling at his shirt, then it rests on his neck, and he's suddenly being
choked. It's a new feeling, not one he's used to at all, not one he's ever
tried before, but it's something he's thought about in the past. He'd never
expected thisto be the way it'd finally happen.
It's not painful, exactly, and his airway isn't being restricted, but he begins
to feel lightheaded.
Tobio's breath is hot and heavy on his skin, brushing against the back of his
neck and shoulder.
At any moment, he's sure he could get away, he could force Tobio off of him if
he wanted to, but he doesn't. He's held in place, unable to see, unable to
speak, and he feels himself begin to drool as his open mouth lets out audible,
heavy huffs. He can feel how excited he's getting, how quickly overwhelmed he's
becoming, and it's happening too fast,he tries yelling out in his head.
Too fast, too much, too -
===============================================================================
A feeling of horror and embarrassment almost immediately sets in as Tooru is
brought back to reality, chin propped up on the back of his hand.
That's right. He's in classright now.
As he tries to covertly wake himself up, the lecture begins to fill his ears
again and he shakes his heavy head. He must have fallen asleep, or something,
he rationalizes. It must be because the teacher is too boring. It ismath, after
all. After moving around a bit, trying his best not to make any noise and
attract attention, he realizes that he's got a bit of a problem.
He's hard. Ridiculously so.
From the seat next to him, Iwaizumi takes on a puzzled look, studying him
carefully.
Then, the bell rings.
Frantically searching for an answer before his ace asks anything, Tooru laughs.
It's a way of stalling for time. He can'treally think of a logical explanation
for why he'd just suddenly sleep in class. Sure, he's been much more fatigued
than normal lately, but his amount of sleep at night hasn't decreased or
anything. In fact, it's actually the opposite. His current most occupied space
in his house is now his bed.
So, why,then?
"Ah," he smiles, willing his face not to turn red at the uncomfortable feeling
in his pants. "I must have fallen asleep, or something."
Iwaizumi's face shifts in concern. "Sleeping? You weren't sleeping, you were
just spacing out. Unless you can sleep with your eyes open, suddenly."
Spacing out.
Was that it?It hadn't even felt like he'd been awake at all.
"But, you looked a bit weird," the ace mentions, looking at him strangely.
"Like you were in pain or something."
Tooru smiles to hide his increasing anxiety. He'd really daydreamed all of
that, he'd reallyhad a mid-day fantasy about Tobio choking him, and where he
should be feeling horror and discomfort, there's just anticipation and arousal
and gross fascination. Isn't that weird?But considering all he's been doing
recently, he can't quite say it's beyond what would be considered normal for
him.
That thought kind of disturbs him, but well, it isn't like anyone elseknows
about it.
He searches his mind quickly. "I'm still a bit sick, is all. Nothing to be
worried about, Iwa-chan."
There's an unimpressed and puzzled expression that passes over Iwaizumi's face,
but he doesn't press the issue, thank God. He's muttering something to himself
as he walks off, likely to get food and sit at their usual table, but for once,
Tooru doesn't follow.
It feels wrong hiding anything from his best friend. They've known each other
for some time, been childhood friends, and they've rarely ever kept secrets
from each other. Even when either has tried to in the past, the other can
usually tell when something's up, and secrets don't stay secret for very long.
But this. This can't be revealed to Iwaizumi. It's out of the question.
He reasons that it's just notsomething you're supposed to talk to a friend
about. What if he sees Tooru differently? What if he stops being friends with
him? It's just not a risk he's willing to take. Ever.
And he definitely needs to take care of thisproblem before the free period
ends.
So, Tooru picks up his math book and does his best to hide himself as he walks
out of the classroom.
He's grateful that he's at lunch now, since he's sure he couldn't get to his
next class like this. He passes by the boy's restroom in hesitation, knowing
there's likely someone in there, knowing he wouldn't be able to get rid of his
problem in one of the stalls without being heard. So, he directs his legs to
the empty gym. Once he's there, he promptly rushes into the storage closet.
After shutting the door, he leans against it and slides down to the floor,
letting out a breath of relief.
Then, one hand is on his pressing at the sides of his throat and the other is
pushing uncomfortably against the fabric covering his dick. He's only got
around twenty minutes, and he figures that he should have more than enough time
to get this over with and to get himself cleaned up. His fingers squeeze deeply
into the skin, leaving a dull ache.
His eyes close, imagining the small hand of his underclassman blinding him
again, and he has to pull his hand off to keep himself from making a mess of
his pants.
He undoes his uniform and takes his cock out, hissing at the coldness.
There's something like an alarm going off in the back of his mind, then.
Something tells him to stop, tells him that there's something wrong, and he
doesn't listen, because he doesn't want to stop. He's just got to finish. He's
got to get this over with. He just hasto.
But then, there's a rumble behind him, something like a person trying to open
the door, but it's being blocked by his body. The door is pushed lightly, then
stopped, and then banging on the door that stops his breathing and stops his
movement. The vibration of the door being hit reverberates through him. He
clears his throat, knowing he won't be able to get out of this if he just stays
silent, and loudly says, "What?"
And he's shaken both physically and mentally by the piercing voice that says,
"Oikawa! I was looking for you and I thought you'd be in here. What are you
doing in there?"
It's Iwaizumi. Of course it is. Of course he'd go looking for him when he
doesn't appear at lunch for the first time, and of course he'd look in the gym
first. Tooru's head starts to hurt and he tries hard to come up with some
reason, some plausible story that could explain why exactly he's in the storage
room of their gym of all places, at lunch of all times.
"I have to reorganize the equipment in here," he states, going off of something
that'd sound like something he'd actually do, "but I wanted more time after
school to practice, so I'm doing it now. Y - you should be eating your lunch,
Iwa-chan!"
He lets out a forced laugh at the end. Shit, that was horrible. No one with a
brain would everfall for that.
There's the sound of a the handle being gently turned and for a moment, Tooru
panics, stomach dropping, but the movement disappears, like it'd changed its
mind.
"Fine," Iwaizumi says eventually. "Alright, fine. I'll see you next class. But
I want to talk to you after school."
Then, loud footsteps gradually become softer, and Tooru hears the faint sliding
of the gym door.
He hadn't convinced Iwaizumi at all.
But for the moment, at least, he's free. After school, he's sure he'll be
interrogated, he's sure that his best friend will figure out that there's
something wrong with him, and he'll just have to come up with another plausible
lie or evade the confrontation somehow. He doesn't like to hide the truth so
desperately, but he doesn't have much of a choice in this situation.
Relief finally washes over him and his arms relax at his sides. He closes his
eyes for a moment, then opens them and looks down. He hadn't gotten to finish,
and he doesn't want to, since he's totally soft now. The panic must have gotten
to him.
And, bless Iwaizumi's soul, but he's just notthe type of person Tooru can talk
to before getting himself off.
Standing up and trying his best to make himself look as neat as possible, he
opens the door and heads for his next class.
===============================================================================
It had been the first time Tooru didn't walk home with Iwaizumi.
He purposefully took a different route. Walking across town back and forth so
often has made him fairly familiar with the streets and the different ways to
get to where he needs to be. No matter how hard he'd tried, he couldn't think
of a way to verbally avoid having a conversation, so he went with physically
doing so. He knew his best friend would be pissed off at him, but he couldn't
take any chances.
The ace apparently got the picture the next day, grumpy as hell attitude aside.
There's nothing to discuss. And he doesn't bring it up again.
Evidently, Iwaizumi isn't so used to Tooru being dejected, and can't seem to
get the upper hand when that happens. Tooru figures he should use that to his
advantage. Talking to the ace becomes difficult to deal with after that,
though.
School in general becomes difficult to deal with.
The incident of deep daydreaming doesn't ever happen again, and he figures
that's because he's just too paranoid to allow it to. That doesn't mean he's
completely free from humiliating fantasies plaguing him during the day and at
the worst times. It's usually in classes he finds boring, so he tries to be
veryinvested in all of his courses and what he's studying.
But the thoughts keep on coming, working hard at causing him as much discomfort
as physically possible. Volleyball practice is the only time he can really
clear his mind, because he's so used to doing so when it has to do with the
game. His focus lets him have a few moments of mental clarity.
His trips out across town are made a bit stranger, too.
That's really only because he gets this feeling that Tobio's started to
actually think of the two of them as friends, that Tooru coming across town is
just the two of them hanging out, or something. And while it isn't too far from
the truth, all things considered, it still doesn't exactly explain everything.
It's not an attempt at trying to make friends, not really. That doesn't sound
right at all.
He thinks during a test, tapping the pen to his chin and looking up, that maybe
he's seeing Tobio just because he wants to see him. That there's no other
reason, no ulterior motive to be found in any crevice of his mind because no
matter how hard he looks it's ultimately a desire that doesn't make sense.
Maybe being friendly to his underclassman is a way of trying to apologize for
being rude so often in the past, for letting his jealousy and resentment get
the better of him so many times, without actually having to say the words.
Thatmakes much more sense.
So, he's gotten to be much nicer to Tobio. And that's changed things for the
better, he likes to think.
Before, he'd wanted nothing more than to have the younger teen disappear
completely. He'd wanted his main source of competition, the reason for which
he's been having so many conflicting feelings, to be erased from existence, and
he wanted to forget about him entirely. How easy that would make everything, he
laments, but that's not possible at all.
Now, though, Tobio has become such a natural part of his life. Like a routine
of sorts. Seeing him every time he goes out farther than normal, meeting up
with him by coincidenceand catching up about this and that, confiding in each
other like two who've known each other since middle school should, it's all
turned commonplace.
Having a new friendly acquaintance also be the new subject of all of his sexual
fantasies is something he's had to just deal with.
Sure, Tooru's been recently masturbating a lot more than he'd consider normal
on his own time, but it's especially bad on days he sees Tobio. It's like
jacking off has started to be his main pastime. He does it when he's bored,
when he's tired, after practice, and probably other times, too. It's not
quitegotten to the point where he's set certain times of the day to do so, but
he's sure it'll get to that point eventually.
Any time it happens, he has to allow himself some downtime, a period where he
can't let anyone else see him, whether it be for the reason of his mental state
or his physical state, because he knows now that he can get rather messed up
when he touches himself.
They're something like sessions.
He masturbates normally, too, of course. Sometimes, he just needs a quick
release and is just too tired to care about semantics or details or even really
feeling good or bad. Most of the time, though, he explores his strange fixation
on pain. It's something he's had for a while, but it's been suppressed for so
long, is coming out now so quickly and furiously, that he feels as if he's
hitting puberty late, or something.
Certain particularly sensitive parts become points of interest. His neck is
one. He sometimes likes to take a hand to it and squeeze the sides, choke
himself until he feels like he's about it pass out, and he finds that he likes
that a lot more than he should.
Everything is so vivid whenever he does it. Everything is always so vivid when
he causes himself pain. Like it's making him able to see and feel more clearly
than when he's not hurting.
And every time, he thinks about Tobio.
Somehow, this obsession with the younger boy, this outlet in which he channels
all of his self-hatred, has turned into something a bit easier to understand.
His mind's a bit clearer overall when he jacks off to the thought of Tobio
(that concept still makes him feel disgusting) and he's finally sorted his
feelings out, to an extent. In the end, it's obvious what's going on.
He has a crush on Tobio.
Or, at the very least, he's sexually attracted to Tobio. He figures there's a
difference, and that's one thing he hasn't been able to fully figure out, but
it's at least a bit easier to understand than it had been before.
It feels good to have a word to describe his feelings, even if it's not
absolutely accurate.
Tooru's regarded romance with apathy in the past, and he figures that's why
he's lost his last few girlfriends. He doesn't have the heart to tell people no
consistently, especially when their eyes plead, but all the new Girl Of The
Month feels at the beginning is lust and admiration. But soon enough, she gets
bored, he never calls, she gets angry, he doesn't put any effort into the
relationship, she leaves him. A repeated cycle.
It's not her fault, never her fault, he can't say it's anyone's fault other
than his own that he's just notextremely passionate about anything other than
volleyball. He can't afford to be. Romance just never suited him.
Every girlfriend he's ever had has always asked him out, and they've always
broken up with him, too.
His disinterest isn't necessarily because he's not attracted to girls. He is.
He's attracted to guys, too, objectively speaking. It's just that dating
someone always seemed so complicated and like it would take up too much of his
time and energy, the time and energy he could be putting into playing
volleyball.
Girls always asked him out, though, because he assumes he's conventionally
attractive and most girls are by default attracted to sports players. Or
something like that. He's not absolutely sure. And he doesn't really want to
say no to them because, yeah, they're cute and nice and he likes them, and
maybe it's going to work out thistime, but it never does. They never understand
his passion for the sport once they realize how deep it runs.
And he's not actually thinking he has a chancewith Tobio or anything, or that
he'd even wantto have a chance with Tobio, doesn't even think he'll everadmit
aloud to anyone that he's having these feelings at all.
In the end, he doesn't even know if this actually qualifies as a crush, because
it started mostly as him associating all of his self-hatred with Tobio, and
while that hasn't necessarily stoppedhappening, it's developed in a different
direction. When he thinks of Tobio, when he has fantasies, they're never really
inherentlysexual. It's more like he gets off to the other boy hurting him,
nothing more and nothing less.
He's a masochist. That's the only explanation, he thinks, and because Tobio is
the source of a large majority of his mental strain, it'd be obvious that he'd
also be the source of his sexual frustration. It just makes sense. His feelings
are that simple.
They'll pass eventually, he tries to convince himself. He just has to ride this
out for as long as his hormonal body reacts to the other boy, for as long as
his emotions are so heavily out of balance, for as long as he has to see Tobio
and be faced with his own growing inferiority.
They'll pass.
===============================================================================
One night, Tobio calls him.
Sure, he gets calls from people in the volleyball club sometimes, or even just
from people in his school for whatever reason they might have, but it's usually
not just out of nowhere.
He jumps at the sound of his phone vibrating and raises an eyebrow at the
unknown number. Normally, he wouldn't answer, assuming all numbers he doesn't
know to likely be spam. But it's from someone in his area, so he thinks that
it's maybe a classmate or a team member he just doesn't happen to have in his
contacts. As he's running through the list of people in the volleyball club,
trying to narrow down who it might be, he swipes at the answer button.
"Hello?" he waits a few seconds, and then his eyes widen at who responds.
On the other end, Tobio clears his throat. "Ah, Oikawa-san, hi."
Tooru has to take a second to let his mind catch up to what's going on. He
hadn't really expected that anything like thiswould happen, or that he'd even
have to talk to anyone else that day at all. He'd just planned on going to bed,
maybe watching some volleyball games, but nothing that had to do with
interacting with another person, let alone Tobio.
He tries to replace his nervousness and confusion with annoyance. "Huh? I
didn't expect a call tonight, y'know. I have things to do," he doesn't, really.
"How do you even have my number? I didn't give it to you, last time I checked."
Yeah, he thinks approvingly to himself. That should work in setting the balance
of the conversation.
"...Right," Tobio clears his throat and replies. "I got your number from
Iwaizumi-san."
And why the hell does he have your number, is the first thing that vehemently
pops into Tooru's head. It's accompanied by extreme jealousy, though it's
unfortunately and surprisingly not directed at Tobio.
But the other teen keeps talking. "I'd asked him for help with science homework
- chemistry, actually. He said he's not that great at it, but that you are?"
It's a question, but it's also a trap. Because if Tooru says yes, it'll mean he
basically hasto help. If he says no, he'd be lying, and he'd also have to admit
to not being good at something to the absolute lastperson he'd want to do so
to. He hesitates, thinking over his options for a moment. In the end, refusing
to help would be rude, and he'd probably hurt his own pride, andhe'd likely
feel like shit about it afterward.
"Of course I'm good with chemistry," he says haughtily. "It's one of my best
subjects - ah, I'm good at all of them, though."
And before he realizes it, they've been talking for around an hour.
It goes on much longer than he'd thought it would, and it's not nearly as
painful as he thought it'd be.
Tobio asks him about homework, then the conversation somehow quickly turns more
casual, the two of them talking back and forth about their days, then how
things have been recently, then about volleyball and before they know it, the
light from the window goes dim. Tooru finds that he can talk to his
underclassman much more easily than to others. They're rather similar in many
ways, even if he's clearlymuch more charismatic and intelligent.
But, well, that's a given.
It's a surprise just how badat talking Tobio actually is, how bad he is at
explaining things or at telling stories. And even though that should be
irritating, it isn't, and he finds that it's actually endearing. Might have
something to do with how good it makes him feel about his own speaking ability.
What he's not prepared for is Tobio being the one to end the phone call.
Tooru had been practicing in his own head for the last ten or so minutes how
he'd be able to say goodbye, but suddenly, his underclassman said something
about needing to finish up other homework. And damnit, no matter how hard he'd
tried to have the upper hand, it was totally Tobio driving their talk along.
He sets his phone on the table next to his bed, not wanting to get up.
Yeah, there's no doubt about it now. He's seriously friendswith Tobio Kageyama.
Or, at the very least, he's startedto be friends with Tobio. It's the same
either way. He questions for a moment if this had been a way of getting over
his own personal issues, because if he's right in his assumption that in the
back of his mind, Tobio really isthe embodiment of Tooru's own self-hatred,
that maybe making friends with such a person would be like abolishing that
concept entirely.
In another light, there's also the possibility that doing so would just result
in him enjoying his own loathing, in twisting it to where he loves to hate
himself, somehow, and maybe that's where he is, now. But he wonders if that
wouldn't have the same effect.
He'd figured that he's just a masochist, that he just enjoys to hurt himself,
but he'd never really explored why or how that's come to be. Does he
enjoymaking himself feel bad or look bad? Does he like to be humiliated? To be
defeated? To be made a fool of?
There's a voice in the back of his mind screaming no, that's not right, I don't
want that, there's no way I can want anything like that,and he's not really
sure what he's supposed to feel anymore.
Shaking his head, he runs a hand down to his pants, tracing over the lining
with his index finger as if he's trying to decide on whether he should take
care of the fact that he's partially hard. It's because of this sort of back-
and-forth way of thinking that he's been completely unable to get the kind of
relief he wants, and he's not even sure if he deserves it.
The hand slips under his clothes and he lazily strokes himself to the point of
being fairly close to the edge.
Then, he pulls away and roughly grabs at surrounding skin. His other hand wraps
around his neck and he begins to lose his focus. Eventually, he starts to get
lightheaded and closes his eyes as his vision splits apart. This time, he
squeezes much harder, sending a sharp pain throughout his jaw and collarbone,
and his hips push forward, desperate for some sort of friction.
His fingers instinctively press into his thigh, skin caught under nails, and
he's not even touching his dick this time but he's so into the pain that he
doesn't want to, not yet.
Saliva drips down his chin and he can feel it on his fingers. Under his palm is
his quickening, uneven heartbeat, pushing up ever so slightly. Bruises form on
his leg, on his neck, and his head feels both light and heavy at the same time.
His grip loosens a bit. If he doesn't stop, he's sure he'll pass out, and he's
already started to get so out of it that he can barely even feel the pain
properly anymore.
Finally becoming frustrated, he sets himself back to jerking off, pumping
himself quickly and dryly, wanting to get it over with.
A dull orgasm only hits him when he starts imagining Tobio's voice, tone and
inflections still fresh in his mind from the phone call, the phantom of the
deep yet young-sounding melody replaying in his ear. He assumes that he should
be feeling guilty about that, or something, but he's a bit too tired for it.
He's too tired for anything right now, even cleaning himself up.
Despite that, sleep doesn't come easily.
Nausea finally hits him, though not strong enough for him to have to do
anything about it, and he's still wheezing a bit and everything about him feels
disgusting and horrible, and not in an even remotely good way. He can't seem to
take away any more pleasure from how objectively bad he feels at the moment. It
might just be the fatigue, but he can't be sure.
There's an urge to get up and take a shower and it's getting stronger and
stronger as he continues to lay there, but he doesn't move. As much as it
increases, his exhaustion also grows.
He looks at his phone out of the corner of his eye one last time before his
mind succumbs to the night.
Tooru supposes that getting over his feelings for someone he's just become
friends with isn't easy, or, in his case, even possible.
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