"Your face is wet," Ushijima says.

"What the hell," Oikawa splutters, face dripping with water, "Did you follow me into the washroom?"

He squints at Ushijima through drenched eyelashes, groping blindly for the tap and twisting it off. Grabbing the edge of his t-shirt, Oikawa dries off his face with it, scrubbing roughly. Leave it to Ushijima to completely fail to read the mood and realise that Oikawa had already gotten the last word in, and following him in here after that is a blatant violation of social etiquette. Or at the very least, it ruined the theatrics of the moment.

Not that Ushijima would know a thing about a graceful exit, Oikawa thinks, when he doesn't have an ounce of tact or grace to him.

"Yes," Ushijima answers, frowning. "Was I not supposed to?"

"...you're joking," Oikawa says, turning the tap back on. "Oh wait, no you aren't, because you wouldn't know a joke if it bit you on the nose. Can't you see that I want to be alone right now? Go away."

"Oikawa," says Ushijima instead of leaving like he ought to, and Oikawa pretends not to hear him, washing his face for the second time. He wants Ushijima to leave him alone in the washroom where he can stop putting on a brave face for his fans for two seconds and maybe cry a little and then ease the inevitable aftereffects of what that does to his eyes with some cold water.

Of course, he doesn't get what he wants, which seems to be an unfortunate reoccurring trend for today. What he gets instead is Ushijima seizing him by the wrist, a movement so quick that Oikawa's taken completely by surprise. Ushijima peers down at him from his five centimeter advantage, and Oikawa stubbornly turns his head to the side.

Seizing his chin with surprising gentleness, Ushijima tilts Oikawa's face towards him. Confusion writes itself all over his face. "You're crying."

"I'm not crying!" Oikawa protests, while crying. His throat is burning and so are his eyes and he can't stop the stream of tears from running down his face. And the worst part isn't that he's crying in front of Ushijima, but how Ushijima closes the distance between them, ignoring the heave and shake of Oikawa's body as he kisses him.

Oikawa shoves him away, but Ushijima doesn't budge. "Seriously, what the hell are you doing?!"

"Kissing you," Ushijima says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. And then he adds with his brows knit together, "Doesn't it make you feel better?"

The laughter that escapes Oikawa's mouth turns into a sob halfway. "Are you an idiot, Ushiwaka-chan?"

And then he crushes his mouth back against Ushijima's, tasting salt and warmth and Ushijima as he tips his head, as Ushijima coaxes his mouth open and Oikawa's body betrays him. The tears roll down his face nonstop. Oikawa ignores it until he can't, clutching Ushijima's shirt between clenched fists as he cries.

"We'll win," Ushijima breathes out against Oikawa's lips. His hands cup Oikawa's face, thumbs brushing away the tears. Oikawa only cries harder, unable to find the breath to say what he wants to say. That Ushijima is wrong, that hearing the declaration doesn't make anything better. It especially doesn't make him feel better.

After all, it should have been him. Aobajousai standing at the top, not Shiratorizawa.