𝐂𝐇. 𝟖

⋅. ˚₊ ‧  𐙚  ‧ ₊ ˚  ⋅

It was supposed to be a normal practice.

Just me, clipboard in hand, jotting down stats while the boys did their thing.

But with this team, there's no such thing as normal.

Especially not when Tooru Oikawa is alive and breathing in the same gym as me.

⸻

Coach Sadayuki waves me over. "Hey, Y/N. Help me run drills today."

I blink. "You want me on the court?"

"Just for tossing balls during rotations."

I glance at the boys warming up.

Oikawa is spinning a volleyball on one finger like a circus clown. Hanamaki and Matsukawa are reenacting a dramatic soap opera. Iwaizumi is stretching quietly in the corner, like the only adult here.

I sigh. "Fine. But I'm not saving anyone if they trip over their own shoelaces."

Coach pats my back. "Good. Maybe your presence will get Oikawa to take things seriously."

Spoiler: it did not.

⸻

I'm standing near the net, tossing balls back for serve-receive drills when Oikawa jogs over.

"Manager-channn~ don't forget to compliment me after every set."

I toss a ball at his head.

He catches it with a smirk. "That's okay. I know you love me in silence."

"I'd rather love a volleyball. At least it doesn't talk."

Iwaizumi snorts from across the court.

"You're already funnier than half this team," he says, jogging over to grab a ball.

"Only half?" I tease.

"Okay, seventy-five percent."

We share a smile. Oikawa sees it.

And his eye twitches.

⸻

Iwaizumi and I work surprisingly well together. He's efficient, fast, and—unlike Oikawa—doesn't talk just to hear himself think.

We fall into a rhythm, and I don't even realize we've been casually chatting for ten minutes straight—until Oikawa walks between us like a wall of passive-aggression.

"Oh, sorry," he says loudly. "Didn't realize this was a coffee date."

I blink. "It's literally practice, Oikawa."

"Right. You're just giggling with my best friend while I'm out here serving with a broken heart."

Iwaizumi sighs. "Tooru, you're being dramatic."

"I WAS BORN THIS WAY."

⸻

I'm helping restock the cart when I notice one of the volleyballs is weirdly sticky.

I pick it up.

It's covered in glitter glue and has "I 💖 Y/N" written in pink.

I turn.

Oikawa is whistling and looking at the ceiling like he didn't just sabotage practice equipment for ✨romance✨.

"I'M THROWING THIS AT YOU," I shout.

"You can throw your love at me anytime!" he calls back.

Hanamaki collapses.

⸻

As drills go on and Iwaizumi and I continue our quiet coordination, the peanut gallery has thoughts.

Hanamaki: "Y/N and Iwaizumi are kinda... powerful."

Matsukawa: "They communicate. They strategize. It's terrifying."

Kyoutani: "If they date, can we still prank Oikawa?"

Hanamaki: "More reason to."

Oikawa: "I CAN HEAR YOU."

⸻

Coach calls for a mini scrimmage. I help keep score and shout rotation cues. Everything's running smoothly—until Oikawa dives for a ball too dramatically, slides directly into the water cooler, and knocks over the whole thing.

"OH MY GOSH," I say, sprinting to grab towels.

Oikawa sits up, soaking wet, blinking at the ceiling.

"Iwa-chan, am I dead?"

"No. Just wet and stupid."

I toss him a towel. "The floor's cleaner now, so thanks for that."

He gives me a thumbs-up. "Anything for you, my love."

"I hope you slip again."

⸻

After cleanup, Iwaizumi walks over and offers me a granola bar.

"For surviving the madness," he says.

"Appreciate it. You're like... the only sane one here."

He chuckles. "Don't let Tooru hear that. He'll start crying."

Too late.

Oikawa is behind me, fake crying into his towel. "My manager-chan is LEAVING ME FOR IWA-CHAN."

I shove him lightly. "Get therapy."

He beams. "Only if you're my therapist."

"I'm raising your rates."

⸻

Oikawa [8:03 PM]:so you and iwaizumi huh 👀

Y/N [8:04 PM]:we talked about granola bars.

Oikawa [8:04 PM]:talked about granola bars... and LIFE?

Y/N [8:04 PM]:you knocked over a water cooler. we are not the same.

Oikawa [8:05 PM]:i'm fun

Y/N [8:05 PM]:you're a health hazard

Oikawa [8:05 PM]:a cute one tho

Y/N [8:05 PM]:get a life