𝐂𝐇. 𝟏𝟔

⋅. ˚₊ ‧  𐙚  ‧ ₊ ˚  ⋅

I have done many difficult things in my life.

I passed math class despite the fact that numbers are evil. I once ate a gas station tuna sandwich on a dare. I even managed to share a house with my dad, whose idea of "cleaning" is just shoving everything into the hallway closet and praying it shuts.

But nothing—nothing—could've prepared me for what it's like being forced to partner with Oikawa Tooru.

"Manager-chaaan~ let me carry the cones!"

"No."

"Let me carry you, then."

"Touch me and you're getting pepper-sprayed."

And that was just this morning.

⸻

Coach Sadayuki's new "no fighting" rule was in full effect, and as punishment for our "disruptive tension" (his words), Oikawa and I were now in charge of coordinating warmups together. Not separately. Together. Side by side. Breathing the same air.

I was already ready to snap.

We stood near the net as the team started stretching. I was setting up hurdles when Oikawa leaned in way too close.

"So, are you mad at me?"

"No," I said flatly.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"You sound mad."

"I'm fine."

"You're saying that in a way that's not fine."

I turned. "Oikawa, I swear to—"

"Language~" he sing-songed, dodging the cone I threw at his head.

"Coach said no fighting!" Matsukawa called from the mats.

"Tell that to your captain," I muttered, retrieving the cone.

"Tell it to your future husband," Oikawa replied with a wink.

"I'm going to set this cone on fire and throw it at your stupid face."

⸻

Later — During Practice

Surprisingly, Oikawa was taking things semi-seriously during drills. Kind of. He only tripped on the hurdles twice (on purpose, I think), and only winked at me four times. Which is a new record.

I was writing on my clipboard, focusing on jump heights and reaction times, when I heard him say:

"So... what did Kageyama and Hinata text you about yesterday?"

I froze. "How do you know they texted me?"

He shrugged. "I didn't. But now I do."

I glared. "Get a hobby."

"You are my hobby."

"I am three seconds from drop-kicking you into next week."

"Oh no," he whispered. "That would make me miss you."

I dropped my clipboard.

"Coach!" I yelled. "Can I have a new warmup partner?"

"Nope," came the voice from across the gym. "Suffer."

"Excellent leadership," I muttered.

⸻

Everyone was gathering for water. I passed out bottles and tried to ignore how Oikawa was humming the wedding march under his breath like a psychopath.

The team noticed, of course.

"Is he always like this with you?" Yahaba asked.

"Every day," I said.

Hanamaki grinned. "Can I film it for science?"

"I'll pay you to stop him," I offered.

Matsukawa raised a brow. "How much?"

"Whatever Oikawa's self-worth costs."

"So, like, 25 yen?" Iwaizumi said.

I laughed. Oikawa gasped like a scandalized Victorian woman.

"Iwa-chan! My own best friend!"

"Don't 'Iwa-chan' me," he said, sipping water. "You're bringing this on yourself."

⸻

End of Practice

I was organizing the clipboards again when I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turned to see my dad—Coach Sadayuki—giving me a long, tired look.

"How's managing today?"

I opened my mouth to lie. He raised a brow.

"I thought it'd be worse," I admitted. "But there's one problem."

"Let me guess." He pointed behind me.

I turned to see Oikawa trying to balance a water bottle on his head while humming the Mission Impossible theme.

"Yeah. That."

Coach sighed. "I'll give you a raise if you don't kill him."

"I want it in writing."