𝐂𝐇. 𝟐𝟓

⋅. ˚₊ ‧ 𐙚 ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅

Y/N's POV

"Are we even allowed up here?" I asked, staring at the creaky metal door that led to the school's rooftop.

"No," Hanamaki said, kicking it open. "That's why it's fun."

"I'm gonna get arrested," I muttered as Matsukawa motioned me through like a royal butler.

"I brought snacks," Iwaizumi said, holding up a convenience store bag.

"And drinks," Matsukawa added.

"Annnd good vibes," Hanamaki grinned.

I followed them out onto the rooftop, the wind tugging gently at my shirt. The city stretched out far and wide, the sky just starting to blush with sunset. The third years spread out across the cement, sitting against the railing or stretching out with tired groans.

"Rooftop tradition," Iwaizumi explained. "After big matches or heavy practices."

"And today is both," Hanamaki added.

"Plus we invited you," Matsukawa said, "so this is clearly a historical event."

I raised a brow. "You sure it's not just because Oikawa's spiraling and you wanted backup?"

"No comment," Iwaizumi said, opening a bottle of tea.

⸻

We talked. Ate. Laughed. The four of them had such easy banter, it was like watching a sitcom in real-time.

I mostly listened at first, but somewhere between Matsukawa's impersonation of our coach and Hanamaki nearly choking on a Pocky stick from laughing, I relaxed.

It was... nice.

And weirdly peaceful.

⸻

Oikawa showed up late.

Of course.

He opened the door like he was stepping onto a stage, wind catching his hair dramatically.

"Wow," I said. "You timed that, didn't you?"

"Nooo," he drawled, walking over with a lazy grin. "Just the universe recognizing my star power."

"Sit down, idiot," Iwaizumi said, kicking a spot next to him.

Oikawa did. But not before his eyes flicked toward me. Just briefly. Then back down.

Huh.

No wink. No flirt. No comment about my face, hair, or "irresistible aura."

Something was off.

⸻

Later That Night

The sun was down. Most of the snacks had been eaten. The boys were arguing over whether Matsukawa could do ten pushups with Hanamaki on his back. (He couldn't.)

I stood up and stretched, wandering over to the edge of the roof for a moment alone.

That's when he found me.

"Oikawa," I said, not looking at him. "Shouldn't you be placing a tiara on your head and announcing yourself as rooftop royalty?"

He didn't laugh.

I turned—and that's when I noticed it. Something different in his expression.

Less smirk. More... real.

He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. "I'm not gonna flirt."

I blinked. "You're what?"

"I'm not gonna flirt," he repeated, eyes still serious. "Not right now."

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you sick? Dying?"

"Y/N."

"...Possessed?"

He huffed out a breath, a crooked half-smile pulling at his mouth. "I wanted to say sorry."

I blinked again. "For?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "For being—" he waved vaguely toward the rest of the roof. "All that. Loud. Stupid. Distracting. For not making it easy to be around me."

I stared at him. "You're actually apologizing?"

"Don't make it weird."

"You made it weird by not flirting."

"I'm trying to be serious here," he said, suddenly shy. "I know I get on your nerves. I just... I'm used to being liked by everyone. And when I realized you didn't— I don't know, I guess I didn't handle that well."

I tilted my head. "So you harassed me?"

"No!" he said quickly. "I just—okay, yes. But, like... playfully."

I gave him a look.

He looked down. "I'll stop."

Silence settled between us, stretched out thin by the weight of the night air.

"Don't," I said before I could stop myself.

He glanced at me.

I looked away. "I mean... you don't have to completely stop. Just... maybe dial it back from 'walking red flag' to 'mild traffic cone.'"

He chuckled under his breath. "Got it."

And then, because he was too quiet, and his eyes were too warm, and I was starting to feel things I really shouldn't, I added:

"But I still don't like you."

He nodded, expression unreadable. "That's fair."

"But I also don't... hate you."

He looked up. Fast.

My chest twinged.

His mouth twitched. "You're soft for me now, huh?"

I shoved his arm. "Don't push it."

He grinned, but it was different this time. Softer. Like maybe—for once—he actually meant it.

"I'm serious though," he said. "I do want to be better. Not just with you. In general. I've got all these goals—college, nationals, playing overseas—but sometimes I feel like I'm faking it. Like I'm good, but not good enough. Not him. Not that perfect setter everyone expects."

I stared at him.

That was probably the realest thing he'd ever said out loud. And for once, he didn't look like he wanted praise. He just looked... tired.

I nudged him gently with my elbow. "You're not faking it."

He looked at me.

"You're good," I said. "And not because you're dramatic, or fast, or ridiculous. Because you care. That's what makes you a great captain."

He was quiet for a beat.

Then: "You're gonna make me cry, manager-chan."

I rolled my eyes. "There he is."

But my heart was beating too fast.

Because he didn't flirt once.

And it was worse.

Because now I didn't just feel flustered.

Now I felt... something else.

⸻

Iwaizumi's POV — Later, in the Group Chat

[Hanamaki]:So what'd I miss?Any rooftop tension??

[Iwaizumi]:Oikawa went soft mode.

[Matsukawa]:oh no.

[Hanamaki]:oh yes.

[Iwaizumi]:she didn't yell at him once.

[Matsukawa]:we're gonna lose the bet aren't we

[Hanamaki]:he's gonna cry in her arms.

[Iwaizumi]:and I'll be there. filming it.