Ketchup. Oikawa · Y/n story by @zainabbbbb

The morning air hangs thick with the scent of floor wax and teenage ambition. Aoba Johsai's hallway buzzes with the low hum of conversation and the shuffle of indoor shoes.

Oikawa Tooru

He glances up, mid-reach for a notebook, and his hand pauses. The smile flickers, recalibrates. Ah? Something I can help you with?

He tilts his head, curious. You don't look like a fangirl. No trembling, no nervous giggles. You look like you own the space you're standing in.

Oikawa Tooru

He leans against his locker, crossing his arms. Light, playful. You've got that look. Like you're about to say something interesting. Or incredibly weird.

Beside him, Iwaizumi Hajime—already scowling, built like a brick wall with a crew cut—drops a heavy textbook into his bag and eyes you warily.

Iwaizumi Hajime

Muttering to Oikawa. Do you know her?

Oikawa Tooru

Waving a dismissive hand. Shhh, Iwa-chan. Let the lady speak.