𝐂𝐇. 𝟏𝟖

⋅. ˚₊ ‧ 𐙚 ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅

There are exactly three things I hate: 1. Unexpected rain. 2. Supply closets. 3. Oikawa Tooru.

So imagine my absolute joy when all three decided to collide on this fine, humid day.

It had started with a drizzle. Nothing major. Just a light sprinkle on the roof of the gym as I cleaned up the clipboard station and did my end-of-practice manager duties. The team had already changed and left. Coach Sadayuki was in the office. I had maybe five minutes of peace and quiet before—

"Manager-chaaaaan~"

God. Give me strength.

I turned slowly, finding Oikawa standing in the doorway of the gym, holding a half-deflated volleyball in one hand and that annoyingly smug smile in the other.

"What?" I deadpanned.

"I need to return this to the equipment closet. Coach told me. Very important duties, you see."

"You're bragging about returning a volleyball?"

He shrugged. "I'm just built different."

I rolled my eyes and motioned toward the storage room at the back. "Then go do your life-changing mission."

"I will. You coming?"

"No."

He tilted his head and pouted dramatically. "But you have the key, manager-chan."

Damn it.

⸻

The supply closet was cramped and smelled like old gym shoes and rubber mats. I unlocked the door, flipped the light on, and held it open while Oikawa tossed the volleyball onto a shelf.

"There. My job here is done," he said, brushing imaginary dust off his hands.

"Congratulations," I said flatly, turning to leave.

And then—slam.

The door shut. Loudly.

I jiggled the knob. Nothing.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Oikawa blinked. "Did it lock?"

I turned slowly. "Did you just shut the door?"

"Lightly closed it."

"More like slammed it, you idiot."

I pulled the handle again. Still nothing. The lock on the inside must've jammed.

"We're stuck," I muttered.

Oikawa blinked. "...Romantic."

"I'm going to murder you."

⸻

Ten minutes into our entrapment, I had already paced the three-foot-wide closet ten times, reorganized a stack of cones out of sheer stress, and threatened Oikawa at least four times.

"This is your fault," I said, sitting down on a rolled-up mat.

"Technically, it's the door's fault."

"I'm going to feed you to that door."

Oikawa sat beside me, legs stretched out, leaning back on his hands.

"I don't mind being stuck in here with you, you know."

"Oh, trust me, I know," I said. "You've been thriving since minute one."

He chuckled. "Come on. It's kind of funny. The rain trapping us... alone... in close quarters..."

I looked at him. "This isn't a drama, Oikawa."

He paused. "Not yet."

I grabbed a cone and threw it at his head.

⸻

We sat in silence for a while after that. The storm outside got heavier, thunder rumbling distantly. I started fidgeting with the zipper on my jacket.

It was weird, how quiet it got.

And even weirder when Oikawa... didn't speak.

No flirting, no annoying one-liners. Just silence.

I glanced at him, expecting some dumb face—but instead, he looked thoughtful. Like, actually thoughtful.

"What?" I asked.

He blinked. "Hm?"

"You're being quiet. It's suspicious."

He gave a soft laugh. "Just thinking."

"About what? Your next lame pickup line?"

"No." He looked down at his knees. "About you, actually."

I stared. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just... surprised. You're nothing like I expected you to be."

"Oh?" I said, folding my arms. "What exactly did you expect?"

"Some quiet, grumpy coach's daughter who hated volleyball and didn't want to be here."

"Well, you were half-right."

He smiled faintly. "Yeah. But you're also... funny. Smart. Scary when you want to be. And really good at this. Managing, I mean."

My brain short-circuited for a second.

"...Was that a genuine compliment from Oikawa Tooru?"

"Don't get used to it," he muttered.

I laughed. "Too late."

⸻

Another beat of silence passed, this time less awkward. I pulled my knees to my chest, watching the rain blur the tiny window near the top of the door.

"Why do you always flirt with me?" I asked, not looking at him.

He tilted his head. "Why not?"

"That's not an answer."

He was quiet again.

Then, "Because you're the only person who doesn't fall for it."

I blinked.

"Everyone either loves me or wants something from me. You? You tell me to shut up. You call me out. You don't care that I'm the great Oikawa Tooru."

I didn't know what to say.

So I said the first thing that popped into my head. "You're such a drama queen."

He snorted. "See? That's why I like talking to you."

My chest did a weird little flip. I hated that flip.

"Gross," I muttered.

"Yeah, yeah."

⸻

Eventually, we heard footsteps outside. My dad's voice boomed, followed by the jangle of keys.

Coach Sadayuki unlocked the door, swinging it open.

"There you two are! What the hell happened?"

"We got locked in," I said, standing up and brushing myself off.

Coach stared. "For 45 minutes?"

I pointed at Oikawa. "His fault."

Oikawa raised his hands. "She's lying."

"Shut up."

Coach sighed. "Go home before I lock you both in again for real."

⸻

Later — Team Group Chat

Matsukawa: wait wait WAIT

Hanamaki: you two were locked in the closet?!

Y/N: yes and I hated every second of it

Oikawa: she loved it

Y/N: you're lucky murder is illegal

Iwaizumi: i bet you idiots made eye contact and blushed

Oikawa: 😳

Y/N: 😐

⸻

We pretended nothing happened the next day at practice.

But something had shifted.

And neither of us wanted to admit it.