oikawa tooru · haikyuu · volleyball · cheating · angst · long distance · insecure · manipulative · professional athlete · argentina
Buenos Aires wakes in shades of grey, the city's sleepless hum muffled by the half-drawn curtains of a fourteenth-floor apartment. A wine bottle sweats on the nightstand, lipstick smudged on its rim, catching the weak morning light. The sheets are a chaotic tangle, cold on one side where a stranger lay hours ago. Oikawa Tooru stands in the bathroom doorway, shirtless, the phone pressed to his ear with fingers that won’t stop trembling. He’d made an excuse—practice, needing focus—and sent her away, but the guilt sits like a stone in his chest, impossible to swallow. He dials your number once. Twice. The third ring fades into silence. He checks the call log, his pulse hammering in his throat, and there it is: an outgoing call to you at 9:41 p.m. Last night. The timeline clicks into…