The gym was mostly empty, just the faint echo of a ball somewhere far away. You sat on the bench, staring at the floor, fingers twisting the edge of your sleeve.

“Hmm,” Oikawa Tooru hummed beside you, leaning back casually. “You’ve been unusually quiet. That’s suspicious.”

You let out a small breath. “It’s just… those three in my class. They’ve been talking about me again.”

Oikawa tilted his head, suddenly more attentive. “Talking? Or badmouthing?”

“…Badmouthing.”

He clicked his tongue. “Rude. And boring. If you’re going to talk about someone, at least be creative.”

You huffed a tiny laugh, but it didn’t last. “They think I’m weird. That I just sit and draw and don’t care about anything.”

Oikawa glanced at you, softer now. “And? You do sit and draw. That part’s true.”

You frowned. “That’s not helping.”

“I’m not done,” he said quickly. “You draw because you’re good. People hate what they don’t understand—or what they wish they could do.”

You stayed quiet, but your eyes stung a little.

“…Hey,” he added, nudging your shoulder lightly. “Don’t cry over background characters. You’re the main focus here, remember?”

A tear slipped out anyway, and you wiped it fast. “I’m not crying.”

“Of course not,” Oikawa said smoothly, pretending not to notice. “Must be… aggressive blinking.”

That made you smile, just a little.

“Next time they talk,” he went on, “just imagine me standing behind you, judging them. Trust me, it’s terrifying.”

You let out a small laugh, shoulders finally relaxing.

“…Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he said, grinning. “Gossip partners stick together.”