#bdayking2017

[nyami-tee]

hidden by a quiet wonder

Before he can leave, Iwaizumi’s voice stops him, loud and clear. “Have you ever read The Little Prince?”

Tooru shakes his head. “I had a copy when I was younger, but I never read it.”

Iwaizumi smiles, crooked and sweet. “I recommend it.”

(alternatively: the one where oikawa reads a book and gets more than he bargains for

also: oikawa’s birthday fic)

read on ao3 or under the cut

“Back again, I see.”

Tooru looks up from the shelves to meet hazel eyes. He smiles sheepishly, finger tracing the spines of the books absentmindedly. The owner, Sugawara doesn’t look angry. Surprised, maybe, but there’s a fondness in his eyes that suggests this isn’t the first time a customer has come back looking for more.

“If you wanted similar genres to the ones you took out last week, I could find some,” Suga offers, and Tooru shrugs.

In all honesty, he’d only come back because his English seminar required him to find an obscure book to analyze for his next paper, and since Karasuno Books was the closest bookstore to his dorm, he naturally chose it.

“Actually, I’m just browsing,” Tooru says, one eyebrow raised in defiance. He doesn’t like people interfering with his business, and he won’t let Suga of all people be the first in a while to break the wall.

Suga looks unimpressed, one hand resting against the wooden bookshelf as he leans on it. He stares at Tooru for three long seconds before he reaches up and grabs a book off the shelf, seemingly at random. He dusts off the cover, reads the title and nods affirmatively. Looking up, he holds out the book, shaking it enticingly until Tooru grabs it. Sharing one last glance with Suga, he tentatively looks down at the book. Gold flashes back at him accompanies with teal blue. The title stares up at him.

“ _ The Song of Achilles _ ?” Tooru looks up. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve mistaken me for another customer. I’m just...browsing.”

“Browsing,” Suga repeats, deadpan. “Of course. I know for a fact that you’re here for a book, specifically for the paper that Takeda-sensei wants due in two weeks.” At Tooru’s dumbfounded stare, he laughs. “I’m not a stalker, don’t worry. You’re the fifth person in here who’s looked perpetually lost. That and Bokuto’s in your class. He’s been talking nonstop about the class for weeks.”

Tooru knows of Bokuto. He’s loud and slightly obnoxious and sits two rows in front of Tooru, right next to Kuroo Tetsurou. If asked, Tooru doesn’t admit that the reason he dislikes Bokuto Koutarou is that he indirectly stole his best friend Kuroo Tetsurou. Not at all.

Tooru sends Suga a bright smile. “Wow, how...refreshing.” He gestures to the book. “Thanks, by the way, Suga-chan!”

Suga smiles, knowing and bright. “Glad to be of help! Now if you want to buy it, I’ll ring it up for you.”

Tooru nods, his fake smile pinching the corners of his face. “Gladly.”

 When Tooru gets back to his dorm, he’s not entirely surprised to see an ambiguous figure on the couch. He stares at the lump for a few long moments, willing it away with his stare before he relents, slipping off his shoes and hanging his coat by the door. He doesn’t say anything, just waddles over to the couch and sits down on the lump, harder than necessary.

There’s aloud howl before he’s rudely pushed off of his own couch and onto the floor. Angrily he hits the lump with the bag containing the book, earning a hiss and loud, prolonged “fuck”.

“ _ What is wrong with you _ ?” Kuroo hisses as he extracts the blanket from his head. Tooru crosses his arms and pouts.

“You’re the one going into people’s houses uninvited!” Tooru shoots back. He retrieves his book and sits next to Kuroo. “Besides, I thought you were having so much fun with Bokuto and Sawamura to spend time with me.”

Kuroo runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Fuck, you’re still not on about that, are you?” He looks at Tooru, arms splayed across the back of the sofa. “The semester started three months ago, and I’ve offered multiple times for you to come sit with us.”

Tooru rolls his eyes. It’s been an ongoing argument: the dilemma with Kuroo and his friend Bokuto. Since Kuroo and Tooru were childhood friends, he’d thought that they’d naturally sit together during the one class they shared since first year. However, the minute Bokuto and Kuroo saw each other, they’d automatically gravitated towards each other, leaving Tooru sitting next to the perpetually grumpy blond kid. He’s not angry, but he’s had an inclination to being petty and dragging things on for longer than they need to be.

“Whatever,” Tooru grumbles. Turning, he sits horizontally on the sofa, pressing his legs onto Kuroo’s lap. Kuroo sighs but allows it, hands immediately going for the remote. He flips through multiple drama channels before he lands on a volleyball match. Tooru looks up for a moment, spies the unruly hair of his high school rival and scowls. He opens the bag and carefully extracts the book.

The sound of the plastic attracts Kuroo’s attention and he looks over. At the sight of the book, he pales. “Shit.”

Tooru turns the book in his hands. “What?”

“We have that assignment,” Kuroo says the words slowly, as if he’s willing them to be untrue. “We had to pick our books by today. We had to tell Takeda and Iwaizumi our selections.”

Tooru nods, eyes glinting mischievously. “You would’ve known if you didn’t spend all your time talking to Bokuto.”

Kuroo runs a hand over his face, expression verging on a mental breakdown. “Oikawa. Shut the fuck up.” He sits quietly for a moment, expression darkening. Tooru watches the volleyball match with mild interest, stifling his laughter. It doesn’t take long for Kuroo to formulate a solution. He stares at the book in Tooru’s hand for a moment before his smile is back.

“Where did you get your book?”

Tooru, who had anticipated the answer, sends his own sly smile. “I’m not telling you.”

“Bastard,” Kuroo growls, hands reaching for the book. Tooru squirms out of his reach. “Give me the book!” Tooru barely manages to get away before Kuroo’s hands are dragging his legs, long limbs reaching for the plastic bag. Tooru’s reaction time is late, and after a failed pseudo sit up, he falls, landing presumptuously on his face. He watches as Kuroo turns the plastic bag, eyes falling on Karasuno Books’ logo. In seconds his face goes from pained to excited.

“Holy shit!” He jumps up, effectively throwing Oikawa’s legs onto the floor. For a moment, Tooru wonders how he had gotten here, on the floor of his own house. “This is Daichi’s store!”

“Daichi?” Tooru mumbles, voice partially muffled by the floor. He turns so his back is flush with the hardwood. “Sawamura Daichi? As in, your boyfriend Sawamura Daichi?”

Kuroo nods, hands crumpling the bag. “Yeah, it’s a family business but since he’s working to get his graduate done, he’s given temporary management to a family friend.”

Tooru lets this sink in before he looks up. He’s met with a very unattractive view of Kuroo Tetsurou. “Wait, Refreshing-kun and Sawamura know each other?”

Kuroo looks down. “High school.”

“Oh.”

“So, like, did you pick out that book or…”

“Refreshing-kun picked it out for me.” Tooru sits up so at least he has some sort of dignity left. “He took one look at me, and then picked it out. Almost like magic.”

“That’s Suga for you,” Kuroo laughs. He stands up and heads to the door. “By any chance, do you think they’re still open?”

“Maybe,” Tooru hums, he stops when Kuroo opens the door. “What--you _ bastard _ , you can’t just come in here and leave like a stray cat!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Oikawa!” Kuroo calls as he leaves. His signature smirk is back on his face.

“At least _ give me back my keys _ !”

The door slams with a sense of finality.

They both know that’s not going to happen anytime soon.

 Surprisingly, it takes Tooru a full week before he has any qualms to reading the book. Reality hits him in the face in the middle of class when Takeda-sensei kindly reminds them that their papers are due in five days. Tooru, who had been admiring the TA’s arm muscles had nearly fallen out of his seat in surprise.

Two hours later finds him at Karasuno, head in his hands. In front of him, Kuroo grins, sipping leisurely on his pocari. They stare at each other for a moment before Kuroo smirks, hands capping the drink in his hands.

“You know, you wouldn’t be in this situation if you didn’t stare at Iwaizumi’s arms all day.”

Tooru fixes him with a deadpan stare, hands coming down to sit at his lap. “And how, pray tell, do the TA’s arm correlate to my dilemma?”

“Well,” Kuroo begins.

“Did he forcibly take away my book?”

“No.”

“Did he directly influence me into not reading my book?”

“Well, no.”

“Then how?” Tooru snarls. Kuroo looks at his pocari sheepishly, hands coming to cross over his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, Tooru watches Sawamura and Suga slip into the room, eyes flitting between the two of them nervously.

It’s Sugawara who breaks the silence. He smiles, gently pushing Kuroo out of Tooru’s personal space. Opening the blinds, he sends Tooru a smile. “Why don’t we just leave you here to read? We’ll be in the back room if you need us.”

Tooru looks up, a small smile inching onto his face. “Thanks, Refreshing-kun.” He watches them leave, Kuroo being towed by a slightly scowling Sawamura. Taking a deep breath, he puts his headphones in and opens the book ready to read.

Except that’s not what happens because the title page is littered with annotations.

Tooru gapes, looking at the myriad of blue and black ink. Bringing the book up to his face, he tries to make out the words written in the messy scrawl. Various statements about the theme, motifs and characters are described, and most importantly discussed. The writer’s words have a dry, witty humor to them, and it takes Tooru a moment to flip the page.

The next page looks almost identical to the first, the pages annotated with great detail, pointing out the nuances within the texts, the subtleties that make the writing more descriptive and alluring than they originally must have been. Tooru takes his time reading, taking in the story of Achilles and Patroclus, and digests the insight that the scrawled ink leads him to. Little by little Tooru falls in love with the book, with the words that bring a heaviness to his heart. He doesn’t know how long he sits in the chair, reading of the battle with Hector, the maturity of both Achilles and his partner.

He reads of pride, of sacrifice. He marvels at Brises and her strength, learns from Chiron and his wisdom. He grows alongside Patroclus, who altruistically gives everything, even his life, to Achilles. He seethes at Agamemnon's stubbornness and recoils at Achilles’ pride. Most of all, he falls in love. He cherishes the characters within his heart, feels their heartbreak, their sorrow. He experiences their strife and relishes in their love. And when Patroclus and Achilles meet again, he cries.

He rereads the book again, this time paying attention to the annotations. Whoever had annotated this had an adept understanding of the themes within the book and pointed out specific techniques that the author used in order to evoke emotion. The in depth analysis makes Tooru appreciate the book more, and he finds himself understanding the text more, thanks to the annotator.

Once he reaches the final page, he sees a smudge of blue, under his thumb. Carefully, he peers at it, trying to make out the characters. Belatedly, he realizes it’s a name. The first part is smudged beyond recognition, but he can read the first name clearly.

_ Hajime. _

Tooru smiles.

He writes his paper relatively quickly and hands it in before the deadline. However, he pulls an all-nighter to do it, ideas in his head still fresh in his head. As a result, he’s lethargic the next day in class and falls asleep during Takeda’s lecture on the importance of classical literature in modern society.

He wakes up an hour later to a hand on his head and green eyes centimeters from his. Jolting, he leans back into his chair, recoiling from the close proximity of the other person. It takes a moment for him to realize that the other person is Iwaizumi, and another to realize that class ended a half hour ago.

“Holy--” Tooru begins, standing. He quickly gathers his things, stuffing them haphazardly into his bag. Iwaizumi leans back, mouth quirked up in amusement. “I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t sweat it,” Iwaizumi replies, and his voice is deep and soothing, and the source of many of Tooru’s most loved lectures. “Rough night, huh?”

Tooru nods as he zips up his bag. “I’d say I was partying to make it interesting; however, I was just writing the essay.”

Iwaizumi quirks an eyebrow. “The essay? Like, the paper that’s due in a couple of days?” At Tooru’s nod, he whistles lowly. “Damn. Most people would cram the whole thing the night before the deadline, not days before.”

Tooru rolls his eyes. “Yeah, like you ever cram.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tooru shoots Iwaizumi a disbelieving glare. He gestures in Iwaizumi’s general direction. “Look at you, Iwa-chan. You look like the pristine student who never does anything late. You probably hand everything in days in advance.”

Iwaizumi frowns. “Iwa-chan?”

Tooru freezes. He runs a hand sheepishly through his hair before he lets out a short, uncomfortable laugh. “I’m sorry is that too much?”

“No,” Iwaizumi says, mouth curling into a smile. “I mean, it’s annoying, but it’s a slip so it’s not that bad. Also, god, you’ve never been more wrong. Deadlines are my worst.”

“Really?” Tooru hums, adjusting the straps of his bag. “So you hand things in late?”

“More like borderline late,” Iwaizumi laughs. “I manage to get everything in a minute before it’s due. I’m good at formulating ideas and understanding texts and shit, but compiling all those ideas into a paper with one centralized topic? That’s too much for me.”

Tooru laughs. “Really? For me, it’s the opposite. I can’t understand texts that easily, but I can write anything as long as I have a topic and some background knowledge.”

“Damn,” Iwaizumi grins. “I wish I could do that.”

The two fall silent after that. It’s comfortable, familiar, and Tooru wonders why he hasn’t gone up to him before and striked up a conversation. He’s seen Bokuto do it multiple times, has seen the shy girl who sits in the front row do it as well. He’s obviously been missing out because Iwaizumi is so much more than just a pair of well-built arms.

They’re interrupted by the door opening. Takeda sticks his head into the room and makes eye contact with Iwaizumi, a bright smile on his face.

“Ah, Iwaizumi-san! I was wondering if you’d want to lead the lecture for the next class? Keishin’s got a little emergency with Shouyou so I’ve gotta head home and fix that.”

Iwaizumi nods, arms coming up to cross against his chest. “Yeah for sure. Just leave your notes on the desk before you leave.”

“Of course!” Takeda fixes his tie. “Thank you so much!”

“No problem, sensei.” Iwaizumi watches as Takeda closes the door, actions as rushed as his words. At the sound of the door closing Iwaizumi turns his head, green eyes regarding Tooru carefully. “I guess I’ve gotta go prep for the next class.”

“Yes!” Tooru says, too quick, too loud. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, of course,” Iwaizumi replies, a smile on his face. Tooru turns to leave before he's stopped by a hand. “Wait, you forgot this.”

Tooru turns to find Iwaizumi holding his copy of _ The Song of Achilles _ . He’s looking at it fondly, thumb rifling through the pages until he stops on a random page. There’s something in his expression that Tooru can’t exactly page. He stares at the page for a moment longer before he closes the book and returns it to Tooru.

“You annotate a lot for someone who doesn’t formulate ideas quickly.” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Those aren’t my annotations,” Tooru explains. “I got the book from Karasuno and, I don’t know, the annotations helped me a lot.”

Iwaizumi nods, eyes glinting with amusement. “I see.”

Tooru offers one last wave before he walks towards the door. Before he can leave, Iwaizumi’s voice stops him, loud and clear. “Have you ever read _ The Little Prince _ ?”

Tooru shakes his head. “I had a copy when I was younger, but I never read it.”

Iwaizumi smiles, crooked and sweet. “I recommend it.”

 Later, Sugawara finds the book perched up on one of the higher shelves. He hands it to Tooru with a small smile. When Tooru opens it in the comfort of his room, he’s surprised to find the book annotated.

At the end, there’s the name again.

_ Hajime _ .

 In all honestly the books give him insight on what kind of person Hajime is. From his annotations, Tooru can deduce that he doesn’t quite like romance. He appreciates it but doesn’t like it when it gets frivolous. He enjoys the sentimental value within books, appreciates the little things that the author puts into the books to make it more relatable. His words resonate with Tooru, much like the book does in the end.

_ The Little Prince _ is simple and heartbreaking. Tooru reads the book quickly. At the end of his first read, he thinks he read it wrong and rereads it over and over again until his vision is blurred with tears. Hajime’s annotations don’t help; rather, they pierce his very soul, offering pieces of the text that Tooru hadn’t noticed before. It’s beautiful, yet heartbreaking and he relives it with every read.

The story doesn’t leave his mind for a long time, and he spends his night looking up at the stars from his apartment window.

English class comes achingly slow, and to make things better, Iwaizumi leads the lecture, his voice booming through the hall. Unlike Takeda, Iwaizumi’s voice makes Tooru want to listen. The deep timbre and slight huskiness in his voice makes Tooru attentive and takes away all qualms of him falling asleep in class. Rather, he takes in every detail of the lecture Iwaizumi gives on modern literature and the influence of Shakespeare.

It isn’t until the end of the class that Tooru lingers, eyes trailing on Iwaizumi’s figure. It takes a moment, but once everyone filters out of the classroom, Tooru knocks on the door frame, causing Iwaizumi to jump up in surprise.

“Oikawa,” he says, a slight smile on his face. “How can I help you?”

“I read _ The Little Prince, _ ” Tooru says by way of explanation. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi leans against the desk, a smile on his face. “Simple and elegant. I knew you’d like it.”

“Really,” Tooru muses, a smile on his face. “Any other recommendations?”

Iwaizumi purses his lips for a moment before he snaps his fingers. “Something a little different: _ Milk and Honey _ .”

Tooru nods as he leaves.

Once again, the pages are annotated thoroughly; however, Hajime’s words are more subdued, more emotional than analytical. Tooru is mesmerized not only by the raw feelings expressed in the poetry but also within Hajime’s words.

It’s a story of heartbreak, of healing.

It’s a story that Tooru reads over and over again, letting the words wash over him. He reads the annotations, relating them to stories he’s heard in real life. He reads over a section that makes him pause.

_ Poetry is the window to the soul _ , Hajime had written in pencil. It’s slightly smudged and hidden near the spine of the book, but Tooru reads it anyways. _ It reflects the feelings of a person, their raw emotion _ .

Tooru has heard those words before.

_ Milk and Honey _ is not only a book about growth, about love. It’s the book that makes Tooru fall harder for the annotator, lets the words wash over his heart over and over until he’s filled with giddy admiration.

It’s the book where he realizes Iwaizumi is Hajime.

When he arrives to class on Monday, Iwaizumi isn’t there.

He’s not there on Tuesday either, or Wednesday, and on Thursday Takeda dismisses the class early due to another incident with his son. Tooru leaves quietly with Kuroo.

“Daichi’s brewing tea at Karasuno,” Kuroo says as they leave the classroom. “Do you want to come?”

Tooru shrugs. It’s about time he stopped moping anyways. “Yeah, sure.”

The two walk silently to the small book store. When they open the door, Sugawara’s there to greet them, eyes widening in surprise when he sees Tooru.

“Welcome!” he greets. “Oikawa, I have a delivery for you!” He brings out a package and hands it to Tooru. “Somebody bought you a book.”

Tooru doesn’t waste time in unwrapping the package, and it’s only moments until the cover of _ The Secret History _ stares back at him. Tooru makes his way to the alcove next to the store, resumes his spot by the window and begins to read.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen Oikawa excited by a book,” Kuroo comments.

  It’s beautiful. The annotations are thoughtful and insightful and _ new _ .

At the end of the book, there’s a number and a name.

Tooru doesn’t waste time and calls.

  Iwaizumi picks up on the third ring.

“I knew you’d call.”

“Did you?” Tooru asks, laughing. “That was really thoughtful of you.”

“Well,” Iwaizumi replies. “I knew you’d figure out it was me by the third book, so I thought I’d surprise you.”

“You did,” Tooru smiles. “Where are you?”

“I’m at a tournament with the volleyball team,” Iwaizumi replies, a smile in his voice. Tooru grins at that. He’d forgotten Iwaizumi was on the team. “Do you want to meet up when I get back? Bring your books. I’ll annotate them for you.”

Tooru laughs, fingers dancing against the spine. “Yeah. I’d love that.”