Chapter Text
There are plenty of things Oikawa hates. Like when his roommate uses all of his shampoo without replacing it or even letting him know, when the hot water in his apartment suddenly runs out, when the bus driver at the stop outside his building decides to drive off two minutes early even when he can clearly see Oikawa hustling to make it to the stop on time.
Most of the things Oikawa hates have to do with the area he lives in and where he spends most of his time.
What Oikawa hates the most is no exception to the rule above.
“Hey, hey, look at that. The pretty boy’s working again tonight.”
Oikawa stiffens at the sound of the voice, but otherwise makes no indication that he’s heard. Working at the Blue Crystal, a high-end restaurant in Kabukicho, the heart of Shinjuku’s red light district, means that Oikawa's used to these kinds of comments. It doesn’t mean he likes to hear them though.
He quickly realizes that he’s the only person in the back alley outside the restaurant other than the two men he can see approaching him from his peripheral vision. Oikawa knows the comment is directed at him but he’s been working here long enough to understand that the best way to come out of these types of situations unscathed is to ignore the comments.
As cynical as it is, he’s gotten accustomed to most of what’s said to him. The taunting sneers about how he’s working a low-level job for people so rich that they can own him, how he should just walk down the street and get a job at the local whore house because it’s much better suited to his looks.
He’s heard just about every crude comment there can be and the sad part is, Oikawa doesn’t even care about them anymore. All he wants is to work his job, pay his rent and go to school.
Despite the job title, he doesn’t make bad money and the hours are convenient for his studies so he doesn’t hate it. He just hates the arrogant people that frequent the posh restaurant.
“Oh come on, don’t ignore us,” the man yells again. “You know we’re good tippers.”
It’s as good of a threat as any, the underlying meaning not missed by Oikawa: if you ignore us, we’ll complain to your boss.
At the last restaurant Oikawa served at, the comment wouldn’t have bothered him. After all, tipping is not a common custom in Japan.
But at the Blue Crystal, tipping means something entirely different and from the haughty tone these men are speaking in, Oikawa knows it’ll only spell trouble for him even when he’s done nothing wrong.
He can’t afford to get scolded or worse, fired, right now. Not when the new month is coming up and his rent is due. He’s got tuition to pay, school work to focus on, so many other priorities. Two assholes aren’t going to ruin what he’s worked hard to achieve for him in a matter of minutes.
Oikawa drops the trash bag off to the side and wipes his hands against his apron. He begrudgingly turns around to face the two men who have been harassing him. He’s unsurprised when he comes face to face with Kawasaki and his cousin, Watanabe.
They’re frequent customers, often getting drunk on expensive whiskey and bringing their girlfriends along even though they’re married. Oikawa doesn’t know what possesses people to do something like that but they’re rich and powerful and don’t have to care what other people think of them.
Clearly, he reminds himself when they mistake his eye contact as compliance.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Oikawa levels.
He has to try his hardest not to come off as rude, but he doesn’t think he’s doing a good job of it. The inebriated state that his companions are in works in Oikawa's favour this time around.
“Yeah,” Kawasaki says, “come home with us.”
He’s shameless and Oikawa hates him, hates people like him. He thinks he can get whatever he wants just because he has money and the way he’s leering at Oikawa tells him that the man is very well aware of his status in society.
“Sorry, but a part of the job is separating business from personal,” Oikawa replies smoothly.
It’s a lie, but it’s as best of a political answer as he’s going to come up with.
“Fuck the job!” Watanabe shouts. “We’ll pay you better, treat you better,” he offers.
Oikawa sorely doubts both of those statements.
Kawasaki thinks his cousin’s joke is hilarious and they both burst into loud laughter. Oikawa doesn’t find the comment particularly funny. In fact, it makes him feel uncomfortable for the first time that night.
“I have to go back to work,” he says, informing them of his exit.
“Like my cousin said, stay with us,” Kawasaki insists.
He steps in closer, trying to cage Oikawa in against the back wall. To avoid getting pinned with no place to escape, Oikawa sidesteps him, but unfortunately that means bumping in closer to Watanabe.
By no standards is Oikawa weak but he’s also smart and he can realize that there are two burly men in front of him and he’s outnumbered. He can play dirty though, and he’s not above trying. He cares about his job and the good money he’s being paid, but not if the price of that is his dignity.
Why can’t these men just go back to their gold-digging girlfriends who’d kiss their feet for them? He doesn’t quite understand the thrill of the chase, not when the chase obviously isn’t interested, but that’s just one of the many distinguishing differences between him and the people that eat at the Blue Crystal.
When Oikawa first applied to work at the restaurant, he knew that his application was processed so quickly because of the way he looked. The restaurant itself is nothing but that: a place to eat. But Fujiyama-san, the owner of the establishment, is a businessman and a yakuza boss, and some of his other properties are less than compliant with the law.
Unfortunately, Fujiyama-san attracts a certain type of crowd wherever he goes, including the restaurant.
“I think he likes us,” Watanabe laughs, running a hand up Oikawa's arm.
When Oikawa moves to pull away, he latches on, grip firm against Oikawa's bicep.
The door to the back alley opens up and Oikawa hopes it’ll be Akaashi, one of his co-workers, so that he can escape. These people always hate it when there’s more than one of them—they like to feel powerful so they gang up.
It’s not Akaashi though; it’s just another customer stepping out for a smoke. He makes eye contact with Oikawa, eyes sliding down his arm to where Watanabe’s still gripping him, before he breaks the gaze, reaching into the pocket of his grey slacks for a carton of cigarettes.
Oikawa doesn’t know why he was hopeful but it stings to know that no one is going to be sticking up for him. It’s fine though; he’s been on his own for long enough to know that this isn’t the end of the road for him, maybe just a bump.
“Come on, Tooru-kun. You wanna come home with us, don’t you? We’ll pay you so much better than what this place does,” Kawasaki hedges.
“Clearly, he doesn't,” the bystander snorts.
Oikawa wants to yell at him to shut up if he’s going to just stand there and make trouble for him but to his surprise, the man walks forward, lit cigarette held between his lips and a bored look grazing his handsome features.
He’s seen the man before: Iwaizumi Hajime. Oikawa knows he comes in with some of Fujiyama-san’s most prominent partners but he’s not sure if Iwaizumi is actually one of them. He must be though, to be able to dine with them, spend as much money on expensive champagne and caviar as he does.
“Iwaizumi-san,” Watanabe greets, removing his hold on Oikawa in an instant.
There are only three types of people that come to the Blue Crystal: those who Fujiyama-san tolerates, those who Fujiyama-san likes and celebrities. Clearly, Iwaizumi falls into the second category, giving him a leg up on Kawasaki and Watanabe.
“Watanabe,” Iwaizumi greets with a short nod. “You should take your cousin home and teach him some manners. Don’t you know it’s rude to pawn employees, especially from the man who buys half of your product and pays for you to dine here?”
Oikawa wishes he could speak to Kawasaki and Watanabe like that and get away with it. For now though, it’s satisfying enough to see the angry burn on Kawasaki’s face and the embarrassed flush on Watanabe’s.
“Apologies, Iwaizumi-san. It was just a joke but we see that it was in bad taste,” Watanabe says stiffly.
They excuse themselves, though not without muttered grumbling on Kawasaki's part, leaving Oikawa alone with Iwaizumi. He wants to go back inside too – he wasn't lying earlier when he said he had to get back to work because he does – but he’s slightly wary of going back in alone.
The hallway that leads to the kitchen is narrow and intersects with the basement; Oikawa doesn’t want to think about what can go wrong in the few seconds it will take him to be back with familiar people. Watanabe may not try anything but Kawasaki did not look as convinced.
Oikawa looks to Iwaizumi hesitantly but Iwaizumi isn’t in any rush to be alone, or so Oikawa gathers from his lack of reaction. So Oikawa doesn’t feel bad about hanging back.
He’s staring at Oikawa curiously the next time Oikawa catches his eye, taking steady drags of his cigarette.
It’s not cold anymore, July having just begun, but Oikawa feels a shiver run up his spine at the steely gaze of the older man.
“Did I do something wrong?” Iwaizumi asks, finally breaking the silence.
“N-no,” Oikawa shakes his head.
“Then quit staring at me like I did. Unless you did want to go back home with them, in which case, I’ll apologize for misunderstanding,” he bows his head.
Oikawa doesn’t know if he’s mocking him or not but he doesn’t like Iwaizumi's tone of voice. It’s condescending—at least, it’s dismissive.
He barely knows the guy so Oikawa shouldn’t be offended but he is. He’s not the type of person to sell himself like that so easily; he’s got standards and he can’t believe he’s being judged for something he didn’t even do. By a man who probably has fewer morals and has no right to judge in the first place!
“For your information, Iwaizumi-san, I would rather drink piss,” he says angrily.
Iwaizumi laughs and that only riles Oikawa up more. He doesn’t like being looked down on and that’s what it feels like to him. Iwaizumi is his superior; he’s older than him, he’s successful, he’s got the prestige and the power while Oikawa has none. But that doesn’t mean that Oikawa is inferior.
He’s never once been treated like a child by the customers of the Blue Crystal and while that hasn’t been the most positive experience, Oikawa doesn’t know why the opposite irritates him more.
“Good, because they’re assholes,” Iwaizumi says, making Oikawa lose some of his earlier ferocity. “Sounds like you didn’t need my help after all,” he adds, putting out his cigarette against the brick wall.
He throws it to the ground and presses the sole of an expensive, leather shoe against it for good measure. Oikawa cringes at the thought of how much those shoes probably cost and what they’re being used for, but Iwaizumi sort of complimented him so he’s willing to let that go.
“See you around, Oikawa,” he says, bidding him a goodbye.
Oikawa stands silently in the alley for a few minutes before he comes to the realization that he never introduced himself to Iwaizumi. It makes him self-conscious for some reason to know that the other man knows who he is. He wonders what else Iwaizumi knows about him before he realizes he’s wasted enough time dawdling out here and that the manager will notice his absence if he’s gone for much longer.
He’s not lucky enough to be able to slip back into his job without getting an earful. Nakamura, the server who was supposed to cover his side of the room during his break, rats him out with a sneer. The restaurant manager likes him, but even if he does he’s got to scold Oikawa for his delay.
“Want me to superglue Nakamura’s locker shut?” Akaashi asks at the end of the night.
“You know he’ll cry about it until he gets the person who did it in trouble,” Oikawa remarks.
Nakamura is standing two feet away from them at his own locker, pulling out his belongings as hastily as he can.
“I wonder why he’s still around,” Akaashi says loudly.
Nakamura slams the door of his locker hard, sending both Oikawa and Akaashi a furious glare before he grabs his bag and storms out.
It’s satisfying enough to see him riled up, though Oikawa does feel a little guilty. He knows that Nakamura only works here because his mother attends to Fujiyama-san. It’s no secret that Nakamura is the boss’s illegitimate son, but he gets treated as just that, if not worse and he’s bitter about it.
Oikawa supposes he would be too if his father made him wait on people who treated him like shit, but then again, his own father left him with all his gambling debt when he died so Oikawa doesn’t have much sympathy for Nakamura. Especially when he’s such an asshole to people around him.
“We probably shouldn’t tease him so much,” Oikawa says.
Akaashi raises an eyebrow. “You say that but you don’t truly mean it.”
“Eh, you got me there,” Oikawa admits. “Thanks for sticking up for me though,” he smiles.
“No problem, I know you’d have done the same for me,” Akaashi says seriously. “I’m heading out by the way, and you should too. We’ve got an early lecture tomorrow morning and you don’t want to miss your bus and have to walk like last time. The trains have already stopped running,” Akaashi reminds.
“I will,” Oikawa promises.
Akaashi doesn’t look like he believes him but he shoots Oikawa a disapproving nod before he leaves him be.
Oikawa's known Akaashi since second year; they’re in their fourth now, but it was only last year that Akaashi found out that Oikawa was in a bad situation, financially, and offered to get him a job at his workplace.
At the time, Oikawa was working part-time at a coffee shop and a small Italian bistro and he had assumed he would have to keep one of the two along with the new job if Akaashi managed to help him out.
But on top of being able to work with a good friend, Oikawa was given enough hours at the Blue Crystal that he could quit both his other jobs.
He doesn’t have the time for anything more and having one part-time job that pays the same as two does is more than a blessing.
His phone goes off inside his pant pocket, distracting him from his thoughts.
Akaashi
>> GO. HOME.
Oikawa chuckles at his friend’s persistence but does get a move on. He changes out of his uniform, grabs his backpack and keys, and bids the remaining staff a goodbye.
The bus he needs to take luckily stops only a block away from the Blue Crystal so the walk isn’t long and he’s still early, according to the transit app on his phone. Oikawa's in a surprisingly good mood given the strange way his night had played out but just as he thinks that, his luck wilts.
He can see the bus pulling away from the stop just as he reaches the crosswalk. It’s not his turn to cross yet but there are no cars coming so Oikawa jaywalks across the road only for the bus driver to drive off anyway.
“Well fuck you too!” Oikawa yells, frustrated.
He kicks the metal pole with the bus sign hanging off of it but it’s hard and he ends up stubbing his toe instead, a numbing pain shooting up his leg.
“This stupid, fucking pole and the stupid, fucking bus driver,” he hisses. “I hope your ass breaks out in boils and you can’t even sit on your high and mighty seat and have to quit your job!”
He groans, frustrated, and throws his hands up towards the sky. He can’t even complain to Akaashi right now because he’ll just tell him he did this to himself even though Oikawa was early. Maybe by only a minute but he was still early and there’s a schedule for a reason.
“That’s a creative insult.”
Oikawa snaps his head back to the bus stop, cracking it accidentally in the process. There’s a black, Mercedes-Benz S-Class pulled up to where the bus should be. Oikawa gawks at the sight, flushing even harder when he notices it’s Iwaizumi behind the wheel, left hand leaning across the rolled down window, neck craned to get a look at Oikawa.
He’s sporting an amused grin, like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s seeing—what he just heard.
“Shut up!” Oikawa yells, clamping a hand to his mouth in embarrassment as soon as the words are out of his mouth. “I’m so sorry!” he mumbles apologetically.
“You miss your bus or something?” Iwaizumi asks, ignoring his insult and his apology.
Oikawa narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Are you stalking me?”
“No,” Iwaizumi laughs.
Oikawa doesn’t think there’s anything to laugh at; it was a genuine question. He doesn’t know why but Iwaizumi doesn’t make him uncomfortable. Still, this isn’t normal and he’s slightly on edge. The anticipation of having to walk home now for an hour doesn’t make him feel any better.
Kabukicho isn’t the safest place to walk through at this time of the night. The loud shouting, the herds of people, the flashing lights. There are too many distractions, too many places to get lost.
Oikawa's pretty familiar with the neighbourhood but that doesn’t mean he wants to take a walk through it.
“What do you want?” Oikawa asks, folding his arms over his chest.
He’s sorely underdressed compared to Iwaizumi, in a black t-shirt and jeans. Even through just the rolled down window Oikawa can see his perfectly cinched blue button up and heavy gold Rolex, the matching grey jacket to his slacks thrown over the passenger seat.
Iwaizumi's driving a European model so the driver’s side is on the left, which places him in a greater proximity to Oikawa than under normal circumstances. Right now, Oikawa thinks he could use that little bit of distance.
“Let me give you a ride home,” Iwaizumi says honestly.
“Why?” Oikawa demands.
People like him don’t just want to give people like Oikawa things without expecting that the favour is repaid. He’s reminded of his earlier run-in with Kawasaki and Watanabe and Oikawa can’t help but think that Iwaizumi might have only stepped in because he had his own ulterior motives.
Oikawa wants to believe he’s not a terrible guy but then again, he owns a construction company, which is a pretty corrupt business on its own and he’s friends with Fujiyama-san, a known yakuza boss, so he’s not really sure what’s real and what’s fake.
“Because I’d rather see you get home safe. Come on, I’m not going to lock you in or anything,” he jokes.
At least, Oikawa hopes he’s joking.
The sound of a glass bottle shattering nearby makes up Oikawa's mind for him. He prays to whatever gods are out there that he’s making the right decision before he slips his backpack off his shoulders and slides into the passenger seat of Iwaizumi's car.
It’s nice – expensive – and the leather interior speaks volumes about its price. The way it feels against his exposed arms says just as much.
Oikawa has to resist the urge to groan because yes, he may look like he’s never owned anything this fancy but he’ll be damned if he shows it.
Iwaizumi throws his suit jacket into the backseat along with a few other bags in the back. Oikawa curiously tries to see what’s inside them but it’s dark and the bags are black so he doesn’t get anywhere.
“Where do you live?” Iwaizumi asks, bringing Oikawa's attention back to the front.
He tells Iwaizumi his address and the other man puts it into his GPS. The drive is filled with awkward conversation about how long Oikawa's been working at the Blue Crystal, where he’s studying, what he’s studying, until finally the drive turns silent.
Oikawa answers the questions curtly, not because he’s trying to be rude but because this is new and feels very foreign. Iwaizumi is nice but that doesn’t mean that Oikawa can’t be wary—that he shouldn’t be wary.
The reactions he gets from Iwaizumi are polite but detached. It’s like he’s only asking because he has to and not because he wants to.
Under normal circumstances, Oikawa would fight it but he is getting a ride from the man and so he’s somewhat grateful. He fiddles with the zipper on his backpack, foot tapping against the mat on the floor to pass the time. He wants to turn on the radio but it’s not his car and it would probably be overstepping.
Driving in Tokyo isn’t great but Iwaizumi's a good driver and they make it to Oikawa's apartment building in fifteen minutes.
Oikawa doesn’t know why but when Iwaizumi stares at the shabby condition of the three-story building he calls home, he suddenly feels self-conscious. He’s never felt the need to hide where he lives before but he feels inadequate under Iwaizumi’s scrutinizing gaze and he doesn’t even really know the man.
“This is where you live?” he asks.
There’s no judgement behind his words, just concern. Oikawa doesn’t know which is worse, to be honest.
“Is that a problem?” Oikawa asks stiffly.
“It should be. For you,” Iwaizumi states. “You’re a student, don’t you need a good environment to focus on your studies? This place doesn’t even look like it has running water.”
It does. Most of the time. But Oikawa won’t admit that. He’s been living here for three and a half years and he’s been doing just fine. The insinuation that Oikawa’s studies may be affected bothers him more than Iwaizumi insulting his place of residence.
He doubts either of those two comments were intentional but Oikawa’s annoyed at the kind of privileged life Iwaizumi must have had to just say what he wants like that.
“Oh please do continue to insult my home a little more. How about you take a jab at my clothes too? Sorry, did I get my poor people germs all over your car? I’ll be sure to clean that up personally since I can’t afford to hire a service to do it,” he sneers.
Iwaizumi flushes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know exactly what you meant,” Oikawa says bitterly. “Thanks for the ride. I’m home safe so don’t stay out here for too long in case something happens to your car and you decide it’s my fault.”
He knows that’s going far and Iwaizumi’s been pretty easygoing all night so Oikawa’s pushing it but he can’t help that he’s annoyed.
Iwaizumi does anger at his comment, grabbing Oikawa’s wrist to stop him from leaving. The look of panic that crosses Oikawa’s face sobers him up and he lets go immediately. He doesn’t say anything; no argument, no insult, no nothing.
Oikawa doesn’t know why he feels disappointed when this is what he wanted. He opens the car door and exits the vehicle with an uncomfortably knotted stomach.
“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi shouts just as he gets on the path leading from the road to the front door of his building.
He turns back to find Iwaizumi’s gotten out of his car and is waiting expectantly for him so Oikawa walks back to meet him halfway.
“Have a good night,” Iwaizumi says awkwardly.
“You too, Iwaizumi-san,” Oikawa laughs, despite himself.
Iwaizumi loses his stiffness after seeing the look on Oikawa’s face, goofy grin making a brief appearance. For some reason, it makes Oikawa feel better to see him relax.
It doesn’t get rid of the fact that they’re from different worlds but Oikawa thinks Iwaizumi is a decent guy and that out of all the patrons who frequent the Blue Crystal, Oikawa certainly likes him the best.