“helloo, anybody in there?” kuroo’s grin fills your vision as he leans down in front of you. sweat drips from his face, but he pays it no mind with you seated in front of him, “didya hear me?” 

you roll your eyes and look past him to the court, making some notes on your clipboard. lev might need a new jersey – his looks a little too small, “uh huh.” 

he waits a beat, perhaps for your response (that he should know, after weeks of attempting to spit what he may think is game, will go unanswered), before the bench beside you creaks with the additional weight of him beside you, “let me guess. tall, dark, and handsome? maybe dignified and good-looking? or even–” 

“perceptive.” 

he almost preens when you reply, an air you can’t quite place surrounding him with a raised brow, “oh? do tell more.” 

still, you write your little notes, kenma should lay off the caffeine before games – his hands seem to get shaky when he drinks it without a proper meal, “i like it when a guy knows when to stop talking.” 

he buffers a moment at that, opens his mouth and lets it fall shut just as quickly before stifling a laugh, “you’re a tough cookie, y’know that? but it’s okay, i like the challenge.” 

there’s another pause, as if he has more to say but thinks better of it, “i can take the hint for now.” 

kuroo winks before he pushes himself up from the bench, and you ignore the way your heart does a little flip at the sight. 

—

you honestly want to give up on your academics, school be damned. surely there’s life to lead without a diploma, one that doesn’t involve calc or psychology or chemistry. 

okay, maybe you’re being a little dramatic, but really, who can blame you? your exams are next month, and it’s safe to say that you’re practically drowning in work. classwork, homework, even extra credit, in case the former two don’t receive the proper scoring that you’re aiming for. 

it’s no surprise that you’re stressed. 

a low whistle is the only thing that draws you from your spiraling thoughts (and attempts at pulling out your hair), the sound of a chair being pulled out at your table following shortly after. 

kuroo turns one of the many unorganized papers towards him as he places himself across from you, reading the title with a raised brow, “‘enzymes and why they’re important’? that’s tough stuff right there.” 

you can’t stop the frown from forming, yanking the paper from under his fingers and replacing it among the mess you’d already created, “go away, kuroo, you can bother me in an hour at practice.” 

despite your sharp tongue and venomous words, kuroo doesn’t budge. 

you look back up to find him already staring at you, palm supporting his cheek with an unimpressed look. it only makes you feel all the more frustrated, to be judged so openly when you’re clearly trying your best–

“what are you even doing here?” you groan, “don’t you have anyone else to bother? where’s kenma?” 

he shrugs, lets his arm fall back to the table and spins another one of your many papers around for his own viewing pleasure, “hiding so i don’t drag him to the gym too early and … you know at least three of these answers are wrong, don’t you?” 

you bristle with embarrassment at being called out so — outright — when you’d only been here to study like a good student. you snatch the paper back with more aggression, pulling everything together until it forms one messy mix of math and science, “it’s a good thing i didn’t ask you to check my work, isn’t it?” 

and still, despite your overall iceness, he remains optimistic to your tone, “i can help you study, y’know — tutor you with some of the stuff you’re struggling with?” 

you don’t leave a moment to let the idea brew, scowl forming, “i don’t need any help, kuroo–” there’s only so much one person can take, a dam threatening to break. 

“those three wrong answers say otherwise–” 

your embarrassment bleeds into frustration, “you’re impossible and annoying and–” a burst of emotions swells under your ribs. 

“woah, i’m sorry. i didn’t think it was serious enough to make you cry.” 

cry? you’re not crying.

you don’t have the reflexes (or the capacity) to avoid him when he reaches over the table to touch your cheek. moisture reflects back in the crevice of his thumb unbidden, and you find yourself wiping away any remnants that may remain without further prompting

kuroo’s voice is softer as speaks, teasing lilt disappearing completely, “are you okay? do you really want some help? or is it something else?” and it’s a tone you’ve never known kuroo tetsurou to be capable of. 

his hand still hovers near your cheeks in spite of the way you’ve taken it upon yourself to stop the tears from shedding. warmth radiates from his palm, and if you weren’t short-circuiting, you might be able to fully process the gentleness of his touch, the burning of his fingertips. 

“i’m fine,” and although you try to emphasize it, your voice shakes. he doesn’t seem to buy it (you’re not sure you would either, if you were in his shoes), so you continue, “just — stressed with classes and testing and keeping everything up on top of practice, y’know.” you offer an equally wobbly smile, “typical school stuff.” 

“well you know you don’t have to deal with it all by yourself,” despite your lack of assurance, he seems adept at managing, “it’s what we’re a team for. we help each other on the court, and off.” 

and you’ve seen kuroo on the court. you’ve seen him make calls and keep the team from falling apart at the worst of times, watched him play to everyone’s strengths and weaknesses, but now you truly understand what him being captain means, how he maintains the role without a single volleyball or sweaty jersey in sight. 

you wipe at your face another time, a sniffle for good measure, “please, kuroo, will you help me study for my finals?” 

he grins like cheshire. it almost makes you revoke the plea completely; “what kind of man would i be if i said no?”