Oikawa never liked being without you. It was almost like you were his anchor—his air, the pulse beneath his skin.

He dragged you everywhere. Cafes, volleyball courts, the corner bookstore you liked, the rooftop where you both could steal moments away from the chaos. Every place was yours because he was always by your side, grinning that familiar, slightly mischievous smile like he’d caught you in a secret.

When you slipped away — to a club meeting, a quick visit to a friend’s house, or even just a walk alone — his phone buzzed without fail. One text, then another.

“I miss you. So come here.”

“Why aren’t you with me right now?”

“You know I can’t focus without you.”

And you? Sometimes, you teased him with your absence, but mostly, you loved how completely obsessed he was.

He wasn’t just a boyfriend—he was your shadow, your loudest cheer, your most impatient fan. When he missed you, it showed in his voice, in his touch, in the way he’d grab your hand like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

You remember the afternoon you tried to sneak away to the library alone. You thought you’d be clever. You thought you could get away.

You didn’t count on Oikawa sprinting across campus with that ridiculous, breathless grin—his phone clenched in one hand, calling your name like a siren.

He caught you just as you turned the corner, pressed you against the lockers with a kiss that tasted like late summer, electric and desperate.

“Where else am I supposed to be?” he whispered, voice low.

“Right here,” you breathed.

And that was the truth. Wherever he was—was where you belonged.