His fingers are itching to touch the ball one more time. But if he runs to the gym now, Iwaizumi's going to have it out for him later.

He makes his way to the band room instead, where Iwaizumi told him he'd find her. He hasn't seen her in two days except for when they had classes together, so he never got a chance to properly talk or hang out with her.

Oikawa misses her.

Iwaizumi had told them that morning when they were at their lockers, getting their belongings out after the morning practice. Despite not having any tournament to participate in, their coach still kept up with their regular schedule for practices, making sure they didn't lose their touch with the sport.

"I don't know if she told you or not," Iwaizumi says as he arranges the books in his locker. Oikawa looks at him from the side as he pulls out his notebooks, before shoving in kneepads deep inside. "Who told me what?"

"Mitsuha." Iwaizumi's voice is calm. But Oikawa can see happiness in his warm, brown eyes. "Iwa-chan, you're happy?" Oikawa teases, looking surprised. The happiness is gone from Iwaizumi's eyes for a fleeting second as he glares at his best friend, who smiles cheekily in response.

"Whatever, Shittykawa. You haven't spoken to her?"

Oikawa looks at him blankly. "I mean I text her, but her phone's always off," Oikawa replies, closing his locker door and shoving a hand into his blazer pocket. "Plus it's not like she's always available these days, after Yuki told her that the cultural festival was being pushed back early. She's always practicing and staying late. If you ask me," Oikawa continues, as they both begin to walk to class together, "she's worse than me." He shrugs his shoulders.

"She is way better at taking care of herself than you are, idiot," Iwaizumi shoots, giving him a side-eye. "At least she knows what time to come home."

"Don't make me sound like some unbehaved dog!"

"At least you're aware."

"You're so incredibly mean, sometimes I wonder if the nice act you put up for Mittsun is a facade for you really are: an evil villain," Oikawa says, dodging Iwaizumi's incoming punch, "See?" he exclaims, pointing at him accusingly. "Physical harm! All the time!"

"Because words don't get through that thick skull of yours," Iwaizumi replies, a cold smile on his face. "Maybe if you were actually sensible I wouldn't have to punch you all the time."

They bicker like this, with Oikawa swatting away Iwaizumi's hand like a cat batting away a toy. Matsukawa and Hanamaki see them at the end of the corridor, and Makki's hands are at his hips, watching the two of them squabble like kids in the playground. "Oi, you two done?" he calls out, as he and Mattsun walk up to them. Oikawa scowls at Iwaizumi as the latter scowls back, and soon an all-out staring contest is happening.

"You're both actually five," Mattsun comments, before hitting Oikawa on the head. He blinks and Iwaizumi chuckles in glee.

"I just wanna know, why me?" Oikawa whines, as Makki ruffles his hair.

Iwaizumi ignores his question with a smile, continuing on with what he was saying before. "Mitsuha got into that conservatory in Vienna, where she's been wanting to go for a long time." Makki and Mattsun are staring at him in shock, mouths agape. It's like seeing the youngest sibling of the family achieve something great.

A barrage of questions is aimed at Iwaizumi from the two of them, but Oikawa stays silent. His only reaction was to raise his eyebrows in surprise when Iwaizumi said it, but he's taken out his phone, typing quickly.

He turns the corridor, heading down the stairs to the ground floor.

The band club room should be close by now.

He looks at the setting sun as he continues to walk down the empty corridor, hands stuffed in his pockets as he hums softly. It's a lot nicer to be alone in these passages, as compared to being bombarded on the daily by his lowerclassmen and having to act like some idol.

Beggars can't be choosers, I guess.

Oikawa picks up the sound of piano notes, and a smile spreads through his face. He stops by the band room door, a large wooden structure with a viewing window installed in its center, nearer to the top. He peeks in, and sees her seated there, her attention completely devoted to the keys. It's the first time he's seen her so at peace in a long while.

He braves a small knock at the door, but she doesn't seem to notice. Mitsuha is in her own world, fixated on the black and white keys and the sound they produce. He watches her as she fumbles around the keys, clearly frustrated. Oikawa turns his attention away from her, leaning against the door post. He waits until he can hear the sound of the piano again.

Watching her play has always been interesting for him. How she threw herself into a small bubble that only encompassed her and whoever else was playing with her. The way her body moved ever so slightly but still with grace, swaying along with the melody, her fingers dancing across the keys like little wooden ballerinas in those wind-up music boxes you found at Christmas markets. He thinks it's magic; he's never seen someone command so much love and passion into a small space, making it their own.

He sighs, a small one that even he struggles to hear. Oikawa's hand reaches for the door handle, and he turns it slowly, hearing the click. Stepping in, he closes the door behind him softly.

He's entered her bubble now.

*

The rise and fall of piano notes in the silence of the band room is a familiar sound this late in the day.

The sun is setting, it's warm orange glow spreading through the room, like water spilled on a table. It colors the furniture in a sepia tone, like something you would see in a vintage movie. The only thing that seems to have maintained its original color is the piano and its pianist, a very concentrated Iwaizumi Mitsuha, whose mouth is slightly open as she wordlessly mutters the melody to herself every time she plays.

The school's cultural festival is on the coming Sunday, with the final rehearsal being on the day before. Mitsuha thought she would have enough time to perfect the pieces she's written and rehearsed with the band club day after day, but Yuki had to move the date since the school board had decided to hold exams earlier.

There is nothing more frustrating than being forced to work under a time delay. It's something she's used to, given how the band club was usually called upon to perform for various events throughout high school. But she would have appreciated a little notice in advance.

She pushes these thoughts to the side, noticing that it's affecting her performance. Her right hand is fumbling around the higher register while her left hand sits motionless, atop a couple of black keys. Mitsuha sighs heavily, throwing her head back in frustration. Thinking that this will not do anything but cause her to bitch even more, she straightens up her back, shaking her head slightly. Stretching out her fingers over the keys before her, she settles into her usual posture, she breathes softly and begins to play.

Her fingers move gracefully against the ivory keys, and she loses herself within the music. The slow waltz she begins to play transforms itself into a lively jazz tune, one she can picture people dancing to. The corners of her mouth turn up into a small and satisfied smile; it's all coming together nicely. She can see where the violins and the brass section come in, and imagines the sound in her head, hoping she can duplicate the same pitches when their next practice comes along.

She sneaks a glance at her phone screen. It's four o'clock now, which means she only has another two hours left of practice before one of the supervisors came in, telling her off for staying past the allocated hours. Mitsuha knows she can't use the band teacher as an excuse anymore. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she continues to play, deciding to pour her frustration into the music.

The sun continues its descent, and when Mitsuha looks up from the keyboard she can see that it's approaching the horizon. She'd have to text her aunt that she's going to be late.

I still have time to go over the first part of the set list, Mitsuha thinks, when she sneaks another glance at her phone. Ten minutes have passed, which is more than sufficient.

She can hear the click of the door being opened, but doesn't turn to look; she figures it could be someone who forgot something in here and so she leaves them be.

Even though her focus is on the piano and the music before her, her senses are aware of the other sounds around her: the ticking of the clock, the low hum of the air conditioning unit in the corner, the ruffle of music sheets, and the soft footfalls of whoever just entered. Years of practicing with a band has sharpened her senses to watch out for others' own fumblings, as well as her own.

Mitsuha doesn't pay any heed to the approaching steps; she dismisses it as a student coming to watch her play. It was common even for this late in the day, given how most clubs were staying back to get their decorations done in time for the festival. So maybe it's a little weird when the piano bench sinks with added weight, and she adjusts herself accordingly.

The scent hits her first: it's a mix of cologne and musk, something she's smelled often. It's fresh yet heavy, almost sleep-inducing. It brings out a sense of fluttering warmth in her, one that envelopes her entire body in a tight hug, wanting to never let go.

Annoying though he may be, he doesn't press random keys in the higher register as she plays. It makes her content, but it's something she expected from someone who hates to be disturbed whenever he's doing the thing he loves.

As if on instinct, she leans back in relaxation, smiling to herself when her back touches his arm, and feeling his body adjust accordingly to let her sit properly. She sees his arm reach past her body, his hand settling near her leg as he pulls himself closer to her. The ever heavy scent of his perfume hits her nostrils hard, and she can't help but scrunch her nose in pain.

"Don't you ever wear anything lighter on the nose?" she mutters, as she continues to play. He gives her a small chuckle in response, the sound resonating in her ears like wind chimes.

"I thought you'd like it," he whispers, his breath cool against her cheek. Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink, which seems red in the dark orange light of the setting sun.

"Think again." Mitsuha gives him a small smile, and Oikawa can't help but smile back.

I could kiss you right now.

Instead Oikawa lets her continue, and his eyes go back to her fingers, which are resting on the keys listlessly. "I finished," she says, her eyes on him. They're sincere and soft.

"Iwa-chan told me you got into that conservatory," Oikawa says, after a moment of silence has passed. Her eyes are still on him, with the same sense of sincerity and softness. The corners of his mouth are turned up in a grin. "I'm happy."

Mitsuha looks away, clearly hurt. "I was supposed to tell you," she answers, pouting. "I've been really busy that I haven't got the chance to hang out with you or any of my other friends-"

"I'm not mad." His words are sincere, and she looks at him again. There isn't a hint of a lie in his eyes.

"I read your letter," Mitsuha says, her hands now coming together and folding themselves in her lap. Oikawa's cheeks burn with embarrassment, and he rubs the back of his head sheepishly.

"Ah, was it too long?" he asks, looking away. His heart is beating rapidly, almost too rapidly a human. Her eyes are still on him however, but he doesn't want to meet her gaze because it'll just make him splutter out complete nonsense.

He continues to ramble while she watches him with a gentle look. "It's like, so word-heavy. And filled with so many in-line comments," Oikawa says, chuckling slightly. "It's not even a letter at this point; it's more like a Reddit post, like those long ones...you know those ones that are a whole discourse on criminal law-"

"I love you," she says softly, her eyes now on her folded hands. Oikawa stops, his eyes on her now. They're wide with shock, and he doesn't expect to see the overwhelming amounts of love she has in her eyes when she looks up at him.

"Didn't you want to say that to me?"

"I..." he begins with hesitation, blinking twice. "I did want to but you-"

"But I what?" Mitsuha asks, fixing him with a questionable look. "Did I beat ya to it?" She's smirking now, triumphantly this time.

He can't find words. It seems like the ability to speak coherently has left his mind completely, so he stares at her with a blank expression.

Because never in his life would he have expected her to say those three words to him.

If anything, he figured he would be the one to say it, and he was planning on saying it some time after they graduated, but the feelings of guilt would only build up in him even more. Eventually he just thought to never say it at all, and would leave everything behind to start a new chapter of his life.

"Well?" Her voice is sharp, cutting through his thoughts. "Hello, Tooru?"

"I wanted to say it first," he says, finally finding his ability to form a sentence. "Because I wanted to see your eyes light up, like little stars. You're even cuter when that happens."

"Ah, but you were so cute just now," Mitsuha replies, smiling. "You looked so shocked, like a little kitten. I honestly wanted to take a picture of you."

"That's not what I mean..." he says, his voice trailing off as she leans into him. He can't really move back, or else he'll fall off the bench. Her head is tilted upwards slightly, and the closeness of her face makes him notice the little freckles that dot her cheeks like tiny stars far up in the sky.

"I could kiss you right now," she whispers, as her hand comes up to his jawline, the tips of her fingers trailing along. Her eyelids are lowering, slowly. He can't help but blush harder. 

"So maybe I will."

The first thing he feels when her lips touch his is softness, how Oikawa pictures what the clouds must feel like. That, or one of those pillows his mom kept out for guests whenever they visited. It's a tender and comforting touch, one that calms his heart down from the race it was running only a few moments ago.

The fingers that lingered on his jaw have now snaked their way into his hair, curling amidst the carefully maintained chocolate brown mop on his head. They pull him closer, and Oikawa can feel time slow down when he kisses her back.

A low hum resonates in the base of her throat when she tastes Oikawa on her tongue. It's sweet and mellow, like custard cream. It reinvigorates the sense of fluttering warmth within her, and she can't help but bring him even more closer to him, even if that means hitting a couple of keys accidentally.

The sound of a few harshly pressed keys makes Mitsuha's eyelids flutter open, and Oikawa's own eyes open to see what's causing the commotion. Her body is against the piano, and her arm is pressed against a couple of keys. She looks at him and then at the piano, and can't help but giggle.

"Sorry," she says, trying to keep her laughter in check. "That was an accident."

Oikawa can't help but chuckle, and leans in for another kiss when his eyes go to the call notification on Mitsuha's phone. It's from Iwaizumi.

He motions to it with a slight nod of his head, and Mitsuha turns to look at it, groaning in response. She mutters something under her breath, which vaguely sounds like cockblocker. He stifles a laugh.

"Might as well get home," she says reluctantly, standing up slowly. Her fingers have left his hair, and Oikawa doesn't want to think about the mess of curls she's left him with. She stacks up her sheets, shoving them into her bag on the ground, before picking up her phone to answer Iwaizumi's third call. With a free hand she pulls down the piano's cover, and Oikawa steps aside to let her pass. Together, they leave the band room, Mitsuha's hand in his.

"So..." Oikawa begins, as they walk out of the school building, looking at her. "Vienna, huh?"

"Mmhmm." Mitsuha gives him a warm smile, her hold tightening a little. "It's a little far, but I think I'll manage. Argentina will be a bit far too, huh. But I guess I could visit every once in a while."

"Well if you did, I'd take you out to dinner," Oikawa replies, kissing the top of her head.
"You better visit too, okay?" Mitsuha gives him a pointed look, near pouting. "I don't want to be the only one who spends an eternity on the plane."

"I'll try my best-hey!" Oikawa scowls when she pinches his hand. Oikawa's about to say something in response when Mitsuha calls out to her cousin, who's glaring at the both of them, but Oikawa especially.

Iwaizumi is standing at the front gate with a sour expression on his face, his arms crossed. "Took you both long enough," he says gruffly, as Mitsuha reaches to pinch his cheek. He swats her hand away. "Practice makes perfect, Iwa-chan~" she says in a sing-song voice, her hand leaving Oikawa's as she lunges at her cousin with her arms stretched open in a hug. He has no choice but to hug her back.

"Wow Iwa-chan, today's such an important day for you," Oikawa comments as the three of them walk home, Mitsuha's arms still around her cousin's torso. "You've discovered happiness and affection. How does that feel?"

"Mitsuha, please let me go so I can punch this fuck to the moon."