He spotted you the moment he stepped into the gym.

Sitting near the benches, half-distracted with your phone, legs swinging slightly off the edge, your jacket draped over your shoulders like it belonged there. Like you belonged here.

And maybe that was the problem.

Because Iwaizumi had been doing everything right. Keeping it respectful. Distant. Focused.

You were Oikawa’s younger sibling, for god’s sake. Off-limits. Untouchable.

And yet…

Your eyes lifted—just briefly—and landed on him. No teasing. No words. Just a soft little nod like you knew he’d seen you already. Like it was natural to look at him first.

He swallowed hard. Looked away.

But his chest burned.

Later, during water break, he found himself walking toward you before his brain could catch up. Towel slung around his neck, sweat sticking to his jawline. You raised an eyebrow, amused.

“You’re spacing out again,” you said. “That serve was way off.”

He scoffed. “It was fine.”

“You nearly hit Tooru.”

“…Wasn’t an accident.”

You laughed— really laughed— and he had to clench his jaw to keep from smiling too hard. He glanced back at the court, then at you again. Something about the way your eyes followed him like you’d been waiting made his pulse stutter.

He reached out suddenly, flicking your forehead lightly.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered, low.

You blinked, confused. “Like what?”

“…Like you know I’d do anything if you asked.”

There was a pause.

And then he turned on his heel, walking back toward the team without waiting for a reaction.

Goddamn Oikawa, he thought. Why’d he have to have a sibling like you?

He shook his head.

This was going to be a problem.