Rei

-

“Yo,” Aomine leans into your room, brows furrowed like usual. “I’m getting something to eat. What do you want?”

“Nothing, thank you.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” You keep your eyes on your book. 

He hesitates for a second before he nods and leaves. You only dare to take a breath when you hear the front door click shut.

“Hey,” Satsuki shuffles into your room next. “You good? Daiki looked kinda pissed when he left.”

“He did?” Worry washes over you. “I just said thank you. And that he doesn’t need to get me anything.”

She blinks in surprise. “Oh, that’s why he left? He just stood up without a word. I never know what he’s thinking.”

“Boys, right?” You ask, a little unsure what else to say.

“Not all boys,” Satsuki disagrees, getting comfy on the edge of your bed. “Have I told you about Kuroko? He’s Daiki’s best friend. I swear, I’ve never met a more understanding guy.”

Daiki is gone for twenty minutes, something you only know because you’ve been looking at your watch, waiting for Satsuki to stop talking about this Kuroko guy of hers. Is she trying to set you up? Has she noticed your feelings around her boyfriend? Maybe you should move out.

“Here,” Daiki drops a bag next to you. “Satsuki said you like that.”

“I said I don’t need anything-”

“Just say thank you,” Satsuki sings next to you, smiling brightly. “Right?”

“Right,” you cough. “Thank you. How much did it cost?”

“Forget about it.” He stares at you like he’s waiting for something. “We’re watching a game in the living room,” Satsuki finally explains. “Do you want to join?”

Not really, you want to say. But you don’t want to be difficult.

Your thigh brushes Daiki’s approximately every five minutes, but you keep your head down the best you can and your heart locked in a box.

-

This could have gone on like this forever, you’re sure, if not for Kuroko stumbling upon you. Or, the other way around.

“You are?” You ask, blinking in confusion. The guy just appeared out of thin air.

“Kuroko,” he shakes your hand. “Satsuki’s boyfriend.”

“No, you aren’t,” you blurt out. “That’s Daiki.”

And he’s kind enough to laugh about your blunder.

“They’re very close,” he explains. “But they’re not dating. Never have been, for a fact.”

“But-”

“But?”

“Nevermind.”

-

“You thought I was dating Satsuki?” 

You stare at Daiki, who’s just burst through your door like the literal jack in the box.

“Err?”

“Is that why you kept avoiding me?” He has the decency to close your door as he walks further into your room, towering over you. “Is it?”

“I don’t know-”

“I have been trying to flirt with you-”

“What?” You sit up straight. “That’s what you call flirting?”

He blinks, confused. “Well, what else?”

“You’re worse than I am! I was trying to throw you off.”

“Hrrm,” he clears his throat pointedly, looking around. “Didn’t work,” he mutters then, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your heart beats in your throat. “What?”

“What?”

“Are you saying-”

There’s pink on his cheeks and a nervous twitch to the way he moves his legs. “I was going out to eat,” he says, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. “You wanna come with?”

“As a date?”

At that, he smirks, lightning fast and gone before your heart can fully process the heavy blow he just dealt. “If you want?”

-

for @reverie-starlight

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He had woken up extra early that morning, painstakingly picking out each flower at the shop near his house, making sure the colors were just right. He had nearly been late to school just to sneak them onto your desk before you arrived, his heart pounding the entire time. He had imagined you seeing them, lighting up in excitement, maybe even rushing over to hug him.

But that didn’t happen.

The morning had passed in a blur, and you hadn’t spoken to him once. Not even a casual “hey” in the hallways. He had spent most of his classes staring blankly at his notebooks, thoughts running wild.

Had you figured out they were from him and just… ignored it?

Did you not like them at all?

By lunch, his usual boisterous energy had all but disappeared. He barely touched his food, responding to Akaashi’s comments with half-hearted hums and nods. Akaashi had noticed the shift immediately, but trying to cheer Bokuto up was like trying to push a boulder uphill. When practice rolled around in the afternoon, the setter had had enough.

Bokuto was terrible at practice.

His spikes lacked their usual power, his receives were sluggish, and his energy was nowhere to be found. He was moody, barely speaking to anyone, shoulders hunched in defeat. Fukurodani’s coach called for a break when it became obvious that he wasn’t getting better. Akaashi approached him, exasperation evident on his face.

“Bokuto-san,” he said, arms crossed, “what is going on?”

Bokuto muttered something under his breath, barely audible.

Akaashi sighed, rubbing his temples. “What?”

Another mutter, this time slightly clearer, your name hidden in the jumble of words.

Akaashi straightened, connecting the dots in an instant. He pulled out his phone without another word and shot you a quick text.

Akaashi: If you’re free, come to the gym. Bokuto needs some cheering up.

You had just finished packing up your things from your club when your phone buzzed. Seeing Akaashi’s name flash across the screen, you quickly read the message, a frown tugging at your lips. Bokuto? What could possibly be wrong?

You didn’t hesitate before grabbing your things and making your way toward the gym.

When you arrived, you spotted Bokuto sitting on the bench, staring at the ground with his elbows resting on his knees. His usual lively presence was nowhere to be seen, replaced by an unfamiliar gloominess.

You approached cautiously. “Hey, Bo.”

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice, golden eyes wide. “yn?”

You sat down beside him, concern evident in your expression. “What’s wrong? Akaashi said you were acting off today.”

Bokuto deflated further, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s stupid.”

You nudged him. “Come on. You can tell me.”

He hesitated for a moment before finally mumbling, “Did you… get anything today?”

You blinked. “Like what?”

“Like, I dunno… flowers?”

Your mouth parted slightly in realization. “Oh. Yeah, actually. I found some on my desk this morning. I’m still not sure who they’re from, though.” You laughed lightly. “For a second, I thought maybe they weren’t even meant for me.”

Bokuto stared at you like you had just spoken another language. “You… don’t know who they’re from?”

You tilted your head. “No. There was no note or anything.”

Bokuto’s entire body tensed before his hands flew up to his hair, gripping at the strands. “Oh my god.”

You frowned. “Bo?”

“I forgot the note,” he groaned dramatically, burying his face in his hands. “I had it- I wrote this whole thing, and I was gonna put it with the flowers, but I must’ve dropped it somewhere, and you never said anything, so I thought- ”

You felt your heart stutter. “Wait. You… you were the one who left them?”

Bokuto peeked at you through his fingers, cheeks dusted pink. “Uh… yeah.”

A warm feeling spread through your chest as you took in his expression- sheepish, nervous, a little hopeful. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t pieced it together sooner.

Slowly, a soft smile curled at your lips. “Bo, they were beautiful.”

His hands dropped slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, reaching out to gently take one of his hands in yours. “And if I had known they were from you, I would’ve said something sooner.”

Bokuto visibly perked up at the contact, his eyes searching yours. “Does that mean…?”

You squeezed his hand. “It means I’m really happy they were from you.”

For a second, he just stared, processing your words before his entire face broke into a blinding grin. “Really?!”

You laughed, nodding. “Really.”

With a sudden burst of energy, Bokuto pulled you into a tight hug, nearly knocking you off the bench. “You have no idea how happy that makes me!”

You laughed against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

valentines event | masterlists

Having worked with him for a few group projects in the past, you’d say you’re somewhat familiar with Kuroo. He’s nice, you remember from your conversations. Smart. Funny. His charm, aside from his physics-defying hairstyle, is the dimple on his left cheek when he smiles.

Maybe that’s why the first time he asks a favour of you, you don’t mind it too much.

It starts with a whisper of your name and then a shoe gently prodding against the bottom of your chair after your initial attempt at ignoring the disturbance. You whirl around in your seat to face him, and with a smile, Kuroo silently motions for you to hold your hand out before dropping a neatly folded piece of notebook paper onto your palm. As your gaze moves down to the object, the force of the atmosphere overpowers whatever effort he must’ve put into folding the paper one last time, so you end up catching a glimpse of the graphite embedded on it— something that looks like a heart and the start of a really shitty pick-up line.

Hey! Did it hurt when you fell from…

Before you can read further, he hovers a large hand over yours and the note, prompting you to glance up just in time to see him flash a smile, albeit a bit strained. He clears his throat awkwardly, even though you’re certain that there is no need to in the first place. “Sorry. Could you please pass this on to Yaku?”

You frown in confusion. It’s such a shame you’re so bad with names and faces because then maybe you could muster up a more intelligent response other than, “Who?”

Kuroo grins at your owlish response. His hand moves up, with his index finger extending just centimetres past your ear. Following it, your gaze lands on the brunet sitting in front of you.

“That guy, Yaku Morisuke. Just throw it over his head, he’ll know it’s from me. Thanks.”

Ah, you think, embarrassed as you hunch over your desk to politely hand the piece of paper to its intended recipient. He has a thing for the shortie sitting up front.

You’ve seen them bickering with each other like a married couple so often around school grounds that this makes perfect sense.

The rest of class goes like this: Kuroo writes a note and passes it to you. You pass it to Yaku. Yaku reads the note, writes something on the paper, and gives it to you. You hand it back to Kuroo. Repeat.

And then over the next couple of days, it becomes routine.

Of course, it’s not like you actually wanted to become an unpaid mail carrier. But who were you to disrupt your classmates’ high school romance? …Even if said romance was happening in the form of bad pick up lines and crumpled sheets of notebook paper with the occasional highlighter-yellow sticky note at eight in the morning.

Still, you do find it a bit strange, the way Yaku’s face scrunches up every time after reading Kuroo’s note. Maybe it’s disgust, or maybe it’s confusion. And Kuroo, in return, always looks mildly disgruntled at his response.

From this, you can only conclude that they must already be going through a rough patch in the early stages of their relationship. How unfortunate.

“Please tell Roosterhead to stop harassing me with these godawful pick up lines.”

Silence sweeps in between the two of you, interrupted only by the teacher’s voice as they drone on about thermodynamics. When all you have to offer is a blank expression in response to his sudden interjection after yet another note from Kuroo, Yaku explains awkwardly, “I’m talking about Kuroo. His hair— it kinda makes him look like a rooster, y’know?”

Out of sheer curiosity, you turn around to see if the comparison is true. You’re surprised, however, when Kuroo’s face is only inches away from yours, supported by the palm of his hand as his elbow rests near the edge of his desk.

“Hey.”

His mouth slants into a grin across his face. Forcing yourself to not search for the slight indent by his cheek, you instead focus on the asymmetrical bangs that fall just above his well-defined cheekbone and the tufts of hair that stick out from the top of his head.

“Yeah,” you breathe out.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. “Yeah, what?”

“You do look like a rooster.”

(Behind you, Yaku stifles a laugh.)

Ruddiness blossoms from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “Don’t listen to that weirdo freak. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he says, right as Yaku makes a noise of indignation at the epithet.

“Okay, ‘weirdo freak’? That’s funny, coming from the guy who unironically says stuff like ‘cutie-patootie’ and—“ the offended brunet stops to unfold the paper, frantically skimming over the contents of it before reading it out loud “—‘Do you like science? Because I’ve got my ion you.’”

The rouge across Kuroo’s skin only deepens as he suddenly reaches for the note in Yaku’s grasp. However, at an impressive speed, Yaku’s hand moves out of his range just in time, leaving Kuroo’s arm sprawled pathetically over half of your desk, like a large fish dried up against the shore.

(Great, you think. You’re literally caught in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel, which had started over what?

…Bad flirting?)

It’s a pitiful attempt at hiding the evidence of his embarrassment when he passes a hand through his hair and it lingers near the ends of the sable tresses against his forehead, concealing half of his face for a few seconds longer than usual before he finally defends himself.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, I swear. You’re just saying it wrong because you’re so loser-ish and uncharismatic.” Kuroo pauses, then adds for good measure, “Unlike me.”

Yaku glowers at him, looking like a Minecraft creeper about to explode, though he manages to keep his voice as level as possible when he tries to defend himself, “I said it exactly like how it’s written on this paper. It’s a stupid line no matter how anyone says it. Listen—“

Then, as if remembering you’re here too, he turns to you. It reminds you of when the characters in a show look directly at the camera, and the realisation occurs to you all of a sudden that your nosy self has been staring at the two of them this whole time and very clearly listening in on their conversation, instead of the more informative yet less interesting lecture happening at the front of the classroom. Whoops.

“—how do you feel about this?”

You freeze for a moment.

“About— about the pick up line?”

“Yeah. It’s okay if you think it sucks,” he says. “Be brutally honest.”

Before you can respond, Kuroo butts in with a look of disapproval directed toward Yaku, though from your proximity to him, you can see that the ends of his mouth are clearly fighting against curling into a shit-eating grin. “How pushy of you, Yakkun, dragging our classmate into this just to prove your point. You should be ashamed.”

“It’s called gathering testimony,” Yaku argues before facing you again, this time with a sheepish expression. You half-expect him to start twiddling his fingers as well, but he doesn’t. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay,” you say, taking pity on him. “I guess if someone said that line to me, I’d think it was funny. Like, I wouldn’t be super impressed or anything, but it’s just so bad that it’s good?”

Yaku moves his hands up to the top of his head, as though he’s about to pull out his hair, and stares at you like the end of the world is happening and it’s all your fault.

Meanwhile, Kuroo turns towards him with a wry smile, opening his mouth wide, and the sound that comes out is oozing with triumph: “Ha.”

Yaku scowls. Then, after tossing the crumpled up note at Kuroo’s face in a fit of glorious rage, he whips around to the front of the classroom. For the rest of the period, he doesn’t look back, even when Kuroo pleads you to pass the note to him minutes later.

You wonder why it had to be you of all people to become such an unwilling witness to the turmoil of their relationship.

“Are you an exam paper? Because I forget everything when I look at you.”

For some reason, Kuroo Tetsurō is bad at eye contact.

Like, really bad, you think, because isn’t he supposed to be looking at Yaku when he says this sort of lovey-dovey crap? And it’s not as though doing so is impossible or difficult for him; the brunet is right there, standing off to the side behind him. So if Kuroo could just turn around in the correct direction, everything would be perfectly normal and you wouldn’t be sitting here at your desk fifteen minutes before class, puzzled as to why he’s looking at you right now.

Yaku rolls his eyes and slaps a hand against his forehead, looking visibly upset, and you think he’s about to scold him, accuse him of infidelity, break up with him right then and there. You think it’ll happen just like in all those dramas you’ve been watching lately. However, much to your surprise and maybe to your disappointment, he’s a lot calmer than you would expect for someone in this kind of situation.

“I told you not to use that line,” he chides, almost like a teacher scolding a student. “I said that one was bad.”

“No,” Kuroo says, frowning. “You said it was cute.”

“Hell no, I did not say that.”

“You did.” Silence lingers uncomfortably between the two of them as they stare at each other for a couple seconds, before Kuroo eventually declares in an accusatory tone, “You’re sabotaging me. I get it.”

“I’m not, wh—“ Yaku stops and sighs, moving down to rummage through his backpack on the floor until he finally pulls out a crumpled ball of paper. After smoothing it out across his palm, he then holds it up for Kuroo to see.

You try to crane your neck to look as well, but apparently there’s only so much you’re allowed to know about their relationship, evident in the quick side-eye Yaku gives you as he promptly holds his hand up to shield you from reading the note.

Okay, wow. Cosplaying disinterest, you pretend to examine the wrinkles in your palm while Yaku taps the paper with his pointer finger multiple times.

“Look. It literally says right here, ‘the first one sucks,’” he reads out loud passionately. “And then I said the second one was sweet.”

Kuroo’s eyebrows tug together. Then, they smooth out in realisation after he finishes reading the note, but before Yaku can utter something along the lines of “I told you so!,” he turns to you again with the same fond look in his eyes as he had a minute ago.

“You remind me of a dictionary, the way you add meaning to everything,” he tells you, and you swear your heart skips a beat at how earnestly he says it. The problem is, though, you’re not a homewrecker, and you don’t ever plan on being one, so you glance to Yaku for help, even going as far as to blink SOS in morse code in hopes that he understands that this is so, so out of your control. However, he just looks back at you like he’s waiting on your reply as well.

Shit, you think to yourself. What have you gotten yourself into?

“Err,” you start intelligently, mustering up the courage to look Kuroo in the eyes. You still don’t know what the fuck these people want from you, but you try to sound as objective as possible. “The pick-up line is… good?”

A smile paints Kuroo’s expression despite your totally pathetic response. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome…?” You nod weakly.

Nevertheless, when the teacher enters the room, indicating the start of class, Yaku has one last thing to add to this heinously stressful conversation as you and Kuroo take your seats. And again, he defies your expectations because surprisingly it isn’t an insult to Kuroo’s behaviour nor a mental breakdown over what he just witnessed. Rather, it’s quite simple.

“Let’s all go to the library after school today,” he suggests. “The three of us.”

You mull over it for several seconds. Well, you do have an exam for this class next week. And seeing how Yaku doesn’t seem to have it out for your blood just yet, you suppose a study session with two of your classmates can’t hurt— so, you agree.

(Amidst your thoughts, you miss the way Kuroo sends an overenthusiastic thumbs-up to Yaku from behind you, and Yaku roleplays humbleness with a roll of his eyes, too quick for you to notice.)

Ever since the semester started, you’ve created a list of things you want to curse the universe for bringing into your life to inconvenience you.

1) Assigned seating arrangements

2) Your teacher’s strict phone policy

3) Yaku Morisuke

Although maybe you should’ve added it way earlier, that last one is only a new addition as of today, after Kuroo announces to you that Yaku just texted him. Watching him as he reaches down to pick up his backpack and plop it onto the chair next to him, where Yaku should be sitting but isn’t, you can kind of get the gist of what’s happened. You’re already starting to plot against him in your head, manifesting him a failing score on his next test. And— the next time he asks you to pass a note back to Kuroo, you’ve decided that you’re going to say no. Yeah, that’ll really teach him a lesson or something.

Nonetheless, to be completely sure, you stare at Kuroo expectantly until he actually reads the message off his phone out loud for you, albeit in a very poorly done impression of the messenger’s voice that you can’t help but snicker at.

“‘Hi. I can’t make it to the library today because something urgent just came up. Sorry!’” Kuroo shakes his head, like he’s completely in disbelief. “How horrible of him, leaving us to suffer in academics all by ourselves after he was the one who invited us in the first place.”

You sigh at that piece of information, and the verbal reaction you provide is a lot more lukewarm than the epic revenge you’re thinking in your head right now. You can only hope that your facial expression doesn’t give it away. “Guess we’ll just have to study without him.”

For the next few hours, it’s peaceful while the two of you begin to work diligently. Occasionally, he’ll nudge your chair with his foot to ask you a question about the class, which, more often than not, ends up spiralling into a tangential conversation about something totally unrelated. It’s not that you intend for that to happen, but Kuroo is a man of many words or whatever, and talking to him is much more interesting than subject you’re studying for anyway. That is, until the feeling of impending doom returns like a bad stomach ache, reminding the both of you to focus.

This study session, it reminds you of all the other times you’ve hung out with Kuroo for group projects in the past. And looking back, you feel so fond of those memories that as much as you hate group projects and you often wish your teacher would stop assigning them, you suppose they aren’t so bad when they’re with Kuroo.

(Okay, then, maybe Yaku ditching the two of you wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. He’s still on your list of inconveniences, though.)

The sun is setting by the time you exit the school building. With the ache settling deep in your bones and your temples, you really think you might disintegrate into dust after this next exam. As you reach the edge of the school grounds, Kuroo offers to walk you home, but you decline because your home isn’t that far anyways. Still, before you both bid your farewells and part ways, you have something on your mind that you can’t help but let curiosity drive you to ask him about.

“Kuroo,” you say, and he turns to you, a tuft of black hair falling gracefully in front of his eyes like he #JustWokeUpLikeThis. The sunset illuminating the side of his face at this moment makes him look really majestic, too, but you try not to think such immoral thoughts about a taken man. Instead, you focus on being nosy because that’s just the kind of person you are, and you feel like you’ve missed some episodes lately.

“Yeah?” Kuroo prompts.

“Are you really… close with Yaku? Like actually?” you ask in a tentative manner, choosing your words carefully. After all, you don’t want to offend him by making it seem as though you can’t tell that they’re dating because of their supposed relationship problems, but recently, it’s been getting harder and harder to believe it. “He kind of looks like he’s planning your assassination every time I pass your notes to him.”

Kuroo lets out the loudest cackle you’ve ever heard, moving his hand as if to ward off your concern.

“Yeah, that’s just how he is. He’s been my number one hater since day one. But,” he smiles, and it speaks confidence for the most part, yet the pink dusting his cheeks shows otherwise, “if you’re so worried, why don’t you balance it out by being my number one lover?”

Oh!

What?!

You attempt to cover up your shock with a nervous laugh, eyes darting around as if there’s a hidden camera somewhere in your surroundings.

“Wow, that— that line’s so good? I’m sure Yaku will love it.” You aren’t sure of the source behind the heat crawling up your neck, but you tell yourself that it must be from how embarrassing you sound right now because it absolutely cannot be from what Kuroo just said. “See you tomorrow!”

Kuroo can only watch in amusement, tilting his head slightly as you scurry away, a bloom of smoke trailing the back of your shoes.

(…Wait a minute.

He frowns. Who will love what?)

“Yaku, you deserve better.”

Upon hearing your words, one of Yaku’s eyebrows jumps toward his hairline while the other remains anchored to his eyelid. He whips around, catching your arm just as you’re about to walk away from him in the middle of the crowded hallway. Gesturing with his head for you to follow him, he leads you to a separate hallway, where the area isn’t as busy and he can hear you talk more clearly.

He crosses his arms. “What do you mean by that?”

You purse your lips, sighing because you’re about to break some bad news to him, and unfortunately, you don’t have any tissues on hand. You suppose offering him your shoulder to cry on could suffice, but the idea is rather unappealing.

Nonetheless, you tell him the truth, “The other day, Kuroo told me he wants me to be his number one lover.”

He nods slowly, not understanding why you’re telling him this. “Okay… and?”

“During gym class today, he said to me, ‘Stop, drop, and roll! Because baby, you’re so hot, you’re on fire’ after I kicked a ball out of bounds.”

Now, Yaku looks scandalised. “Ew. He really said that? To you?”

“Mhm,” you confirm solemnly, and Yaku heaves a grave sigh, as though the weight of all this is too much. You really feel sorry for him, so much that you even move your hand to pat his shoulder as a way to comfort him.

However, for whatever reason unbeknownst to you, Yaku does the same.

The two of you freeze, hand on each other’s opposite shoulders like you’re both trying to console each other.

“Um.”

Eventually, you awkwardly let your hand drop to your side, and Yaku mirrors that action as well.

“Well,” he says, after another beat of painful silence. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll go yell at him later.”

You come to class several minutes earlier than usual during lunch period just to talk to Yaku before Kuroo gets here.

“Hey,” you say, knuckles knocking against the top of his desk to get his attention. “Let’s make things easier for you and Kuroo and switch seats.”

Wide-eyed, Yaku shakes his head. He glances to the door as if a hideous monster (Kuroo) will storm in at any moment before uttering passionately, almost urgently, in a hushed voice, “We can’t.”

You hold back the urge to roll your eyes. Why do these two have to be so damn difficult? It’s already bad enough having to deal with Kuroo and his inability to make eye contact with the right person when he says pick-up lines out of the blue, as well as his tendency to flirt with you sometimes. However, you had hoped that Yaku would at least be somewhat normal, even if he won’t stand up for himself against Kuroo’s disloyal behaviour.

“Why not? The teacher probably won’t notice since we sit kind of far from the front.”

“It’s not that, but I… can’t say.”

“What do you mean you can’t say?” You narrow your eyes at him, glaring at him suspiciously. He’s making, like, zero sense right now. “Are you really that emotionally attached to this desk? It’s just a piece of wood.”

“I’m not,” he says, sounding affronted at the fact that you would even think that. “It’s just, it isn’t really my business to tell you. If I were you, I’d ask Kuroo about it. Okay?”

You blink at him. “Kuroo?”

“Yes.” He throws his hands up in exasperation, looking like a wonky-shaped fork for a split second. “He’ll tell you everything. Just please, leave me alone. Kuroo’s the one that actually likes… talking to you. No offence.”

Okay, a bit rude, but whatever. Leaving the classroom, you set out on a new mission:

Find Kuroo.

“We live in the age of technology. Can’t you just…? You know.” You gesture with your hands to appear as though you’re texting on an imaginary phone. Kuroo raises an eyebrow at this, finding some entertainment in your actions. You would be phenomenal at a game of charades. “Exchanging handwritten letters is sweet and all, but man, it sucks being in the middle of everything.”

A sly grin eases its way onto his face. “Are you jealous?”

“Literally how did you get to that conclusion?” You scowl. “Of course not. But it’s so weird. I asked your boyfriend if we could switch seats to make things easier for all three of us, and he said no, though he wouldn’t tell me why. Instead, he told me to ask you.”

Kuroo seems a bit surprised by that, for some reason. Actually, not just a bit— he’s very surprised, voice even cracking as he asks, “My what?”

“Your—“ You hesitate, unsure. Doesn’t he know who you’re talking about? “You know, Yaku?”

Kuroo stares at you as silence hangs in the air. Like, really stares at you, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing you say right now.

Then, he hunches over in the middle of the empty hallway, shoulders shuddering with laughter as he tries to stabilise himself with his hands on his knees.

You can only watch, confused.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally straightens his posture. Placing a hand over your shoulder and looking you directly in the eyes, he deadpans, “Yaku is not my boyfriend.”

Just like that, everything you’ve ever known about these two against your will comes crashing down, collapsing, and all other synonyms.

“What the hell?” you splutter, and Kuroo bursts into another fit of laughter. “Stop laughing— what do you mean he isn’t your boyfriend? All those notes you wrote to each other, that pick-up line I saw in your first note to him. You’re saying none of it was romantic?”

After several moments, Kuroo manages to catch his breath just enough to explain, “It was romantic, but not for Yaku. Every time, I was asking him for feedback on a pick-up line so I could use them with— with you.”

You furrow your eyebrows, pursing your lips. “So you’re not dating Yaku?”

Vehemently, he shakes his head. “Absolutely not. Not even in my worst nightmares.”

“…And you really don’t have the hots for him?”

“No,” he confirms, moving his hand from your shoulder to gently graze the side of your face. “It’s always been you.”

Damn it. You were so invested.

Still, his hand is warm and soft against your cheek, and there’s that familiar dimple near the left side of his mouth that you always find your gaze gravitating towards whenever he smiles, so maybe you’re okay with this turn of events, as unexpected as it was.

[BONUS: some of the notes exchanged between Kuroo and Yaku]

"I fail to see how this concerns you," he said stiffly. "This is between me and my teammate."

"It concerns me when I am the manager of this team and you're being an ass to someone who bends over backwards to help you." You crossed your arms, ignoring the warning look Takao was giving you. "Just because Oha Asa said Cancers were ranked first today doesn't mean you get to treat people like they're beneath you."

A muscle twitched in Midorima's jaw. "You know nothing about basketball or our dynamic."

"I know enough to see when someone's being needlessly harsh." You stepped closer, refusing to be intimidated by his height. "Takao's one of the best players on this team and you treat him like he's disposable."

"Guys, really, it's fine—" Takao started, but Midorima cut him off.

"If you're so concerned about proper coaching methods, perhaps you'd like to demonstrate?" He held out a basketball, his taped fingers gripping it firmly. "Show us how it's done."

You grabbed the ball, ignoring the way your heart raced at the brief contact with his hands. "Fine. But first, you're going to apologize to Takao."

His eyes widened slightly. "I have nothing to apologize for."

"Then I guess we'll be here all day."

The standoff lasted for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes. Finally, Midorima adjusted his glasses, a nervous habit of his, and turned to Takao.

"I... may have been overly harsh in my criticism," he muttered.

Takao's jaw dropped. You weren't sure who was more surprised, him or the rest of the team watching this unfold.

"Shin-chan, are you feeling okay?" Takao pressed a hand to Midorima's forehead, earning himself an irritated swat.

"Don't push it, Takao."

You couldn't help but smile. Under all that pride and lucky items and horoscope obsession, maybe there was hope for him after all.

"Now," Midorima turned back to you, "about that demonstration..."

Your smile dropped. Right. You'd walked right into that one.

"I never said I could play basketball," you admitted. "I just... I understand it enough to be a manager, but I can’t play."

Something shifted in his expression, so subtle you almost missed it. "Then perhaps we could reach a compromise. I will... attempt to be more constructive in my criticism, if you agree to learn the basics of basketball. So you can better understand what you're critiquing."

Was that... was that a hint of a smile on his face?

"Are you offering to teach me?" you asked suspiciously.

"Merely ensuring you don't spread misinformation about proper training techniques." But there was definitely something softer in his voice now.

From the sidelines, Takao was grinning like he'd just won the lottery. "Shin-chan's going to be a teacher! Should I start calling you Sensei?"

"Takao!"

You couldn't help but laugh at Midorima's flustered expression. Maybe this wasn't exactly how you'd planned to spend your afternoons, but something told you these basketball lessons would be interesting.

"Fine," you agreed. "But no lucky items required."

"Absolutely not. Cancer's compatibility with your sign is already questionable enough without tempting fate."

"Of course you know my zodiac sign."

"Someone has to ensure this arrangement doesn't end in disaster."

And your heart skipped a beat at the way he adjusted his glasses again, well... that was probably just because Cancer and your sign were apparently compatible today.

Probably.

it makes him think.

sae has his reasons. he's never let your relationship get past that line, drawn in the sand. he's a professional football player on the other side of the world, and you have a life here. you have friends (even though you still call him your best friend), you have a job (that you complain about all the time), you have family (that can't be bothered to ever congratulate you on anything).

it wouldn't be right — to make you leave. to take you away. not when he needs to focus on being the best in the world.

(he is the best in the world. all those years ago he showed the U-20 team in japan the difference between them, the way the most they could hope for was dating a gravure model. sae never cared about that aspect. he already had you.)

he lets you touch him, but he doesn't touch you back. he keeps you at arm's length — where you're safe.

and then you ask him to be your wingman.

someone else — touching you? kissing you? having you? unthinkable. sae steps out of the shower and barely dries off before pulling on his briefs and pants. steps into his room and there you are, sitting on his bed, looking good, if a little sad.

he considers telling you to get your passport updated and catches the way your eyes trail down his form. maybe this conversation would be easier if he's wearing a shirt — your gaze is too heated, too distracting. you probably think you're being sneaky, hiding your feelings as best as you can, but sae knows you.

and your casual touches are ocean waves washing that line in the sand away.

sae walks towards his closet when it happens again. your finger in his belt loop, stopping him in his tracks. "what?"

"you were ignoring me," you say. "i asked if my outfit is okay."

your outfit is more than okay. "i would have told you to change if it wasn't."

"if you're going to be my wingman, shouldn't you hype me up?" you huff.

sae feels his jaw clench at the reminder. "no," he says, and his tone comes out cold. you don't seem to notice, falling back on his bed and testing every bit of self control in his grasp. "this is a waste of time."

he goes to pull on a shirt before he does something drastic. you're saying something, but it hardly matters when his flight leaves if you'll be on the plane with him. you've covered your eyes with your forearm, so you miss the way he pauses at the foot of the bed, teal eyes drinking in your form splayed out so defenselessly.

sae climbs over you silently, knees nudging yours apart, hands planted on either side of your body. "this is a waste of time," he repeats, watching with amusement as you take in his position. a blush sweeps across your face, but you don't push him off. that's a good sign, at least.

"what, you think i'm not worth being a wingman for?" you ask. silly. you have no idea.

and then you reach for his belt loops again, as if that's a totally normal thing to do and not something that drives him a little nuts every time. sae prides himself on his control, though, so he doesn't lean down to kiss you just yet.

"tell me," sae says, "have you become this touchy with all your friends since i've been gone?"

"n-no?"

it's cute, how wide your eyes get. sae leans down a little closer. feels your breaths on his lips. still doesn't kiss you — yet. "then i won't be your wingman. you don't need one."

"why not?"

do you know how breathless you sound? sae considers his apartment in spain, how he'll need to make sure the bedroom doesn't share any walls with the neighbors. the way you sound is all for him and him alone.

"because you have a boyfriend, now."

You didn’t even realize you were crying until continuous drops of tears fell on your screen, blurring not only your own sight, but distorting the smiles from another beach photo of the sunset backdrop, droplets blending in with the waves on screen as if giving you a taste of its salty waters. 

“You alright?” 

A deep voice startled you from your intense gaze with your phone. You quickly wiped whatever stray tears were still caught in your lashes, hoping the streaks down your face were unnoticeable under the fluorescent lights of the study hall. 

It was one of the most deserted places at the moment with students having wrapped up most of their exams before the winter break started, save for a few who had one nasty paper to submit that evening or who chose to stay for the break, like you. 

Packing up your things as fast as you can, you muttered a quick “just fine,” before catching the gaze of the concerned party that belonged to the most beautiful shade of dark blue eyes that almost made you stop in your stance to see what kind shade of blue they truly were.

⋅˚₊‧ 𖥸 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You checked yourself in your reflection of the metal doors of the elevator of your dorm, making sure traces of your snot nose and red eyes were unnoticeable. You didn’t want to scare the convenience store people at your disheveled state, but you figured they’ve seen worse looking people than someone who just spent a couple of hours crying their eyes till their puffy and dehydrated, dull skin. 

As you walked down to grab some snacks and stock up on some milk and soda, you could tell that the holiday spirit fell short this year. Sure, there were the customary string of Christmas lights and wreaths lined up on your university walls. But outside them, among the people, you can’t help but reflect on how quickly people grow up, get wrapped up in their own drama and business, and change priorities; forgetting to spend time with the people who were actually part of your year.

But what’s new? You were disappointed in your friend, but couldn’t help but blame yourself. You must have done something to her that made her cancel, or maybe you just weren’t as important to her as she was to you.

The familiar sting of tears grew in your eyes and you definitely didn’t want to cry in the middle of the nearest campus convenience store. So you just shook it off, pushed your “friend” and all of your problems with the current state of the holidays to the back of your mind, and focused on your main mission: feeding yourself.

 Not bothering to grab a basket, you filled your arms with your favorite snacks, cup noodles as is customary in every college student’s grocery list. The last thing you needed was your favorite brand of milk from the store’s fridge. What you didn’t see was another hand reaching out for the same carton you wanted. 

“Sorry.” you mumbled, reaching for a second box of milk right behind the first one you were supposed to get. 

“Are you okay?” 

You were startled at the sudden question from this stranger. Was it always normal to make conversation in a convenience store? You lifted your head to properly face your embarrassment.

At this point, you wished you just brushed off this growing awkward interaction and chopped it before it swallowed you whole, as you realized that the beautiful stranger standing in front of you was in fact, Tobio Kageyama. 

The same Tobio Kageyama who's the most active volleyball varsity player in your university. The same Tobio Kageyama who’s been the youngest recruited player for the Japan national volleyball team, participating in the Olympics at 19 years old. The same Tobio Kageyama who’s the same blueberry-eyed guy that definitely saw you crying your eyes out over your phone. 

“I saw you earlier at the study hall.” He almost whispered as if he was afraid to be spilling a dark secret.

You averted your gaze suddenly to check your reflection again on the metal frames of the frozen goods door you were both standing in front of, traces of red eyes gone, but the puffy skin was still there. 

“Sorry, I asked…” He started slowly.

“No! It’s okay.” You quickly answered, not wanting him to actually confirm your embarrassment of being known as the kind of girl that cries at school. “To answer your question…at the time, I wasn’t.”

You sighed thinking you didn’t have the energy to make up an excuse for what he saw, “Now I’m kinda just tired.”

“Right.” He nodded and mumbled. “Me too.”

“Not from crying!” He quickly sputtered out and added, “But from training…and studying?”

You stifled a laugh at his quick save. You don’t recall him ever seeing him stay in the study hall for anything longer than 15 minutes, unless he was seated at a table with a smaller orange haired student that looked way too bright to be in the dreary hall of learning, and an even shorter yellow-haired girl, Yachi, who you recognized from some of your classes. 

He cleared his throat as well as his nerves. “Winter break is coming up.” 

“Got any plans?” Kageyama asked, wanting to keep talking to you. 

“As of earlier, no.” You shrugged off the urge to make something up. 

“Campus is the last place I want to be in right now, but I’m stuck here until maybe after Christmas.” You admitted. 

Kageyama nodded at your honesty. “How bout you?” You asked in turn, continuing the conversation even if you don’t know where it’s going, but this surprising plot twist in your evening felt right. It felt good to speak to someone new. 

As the student-athlete listed down his training plans (read as: holiday break plans), you caught a beautiful sparkle in his eyes that shined brighter as he talked more about his favorite sport and how it isn’t just “training” for him as a student athlete. 

“But I could do something else for the break.” He mumbled as he realized how he was probably boring you with his volleyball tips, but Kageyama’s heart did a little flip as he saw how attentive your soft  gaze was actually focusing on him and how good it felt to be heard.

“Well, good luck with that.” You visibly cringed at how immediately rude that came across, contradicting how warm you felt as he shared his plans. You mentally kicked yourself for your lack of tact and how horrible you were at making friends, let alone maintain your current friendships enough.

You tried to wrack your brain for a better opening to apologize, or possibly offer something else to say to the athlete as you both lined up behind the counter ready to pay for your snacks.

“Would you want to do something?” 

Kageyama’s question brought you out of your marathon of overthinking as you were caught off guard with his sudden invitation. 

“With me?” He added. “For Christmas!”

You blinked in confusion as he stammered out a proposal, but you were patient as he sighed and closed his eyes in embarrassment. 

“Would you want to do something with me for Christmas?”

Any traces of awkwardness left as the air around the two of you suddenly felt cleaner as the cold winter wind bit your cheeks and nose, almost kissing away your puffy eyes. Your heart burned once again, but it wasn’t the painful kind of burn. It was warm and hot that spread rapidly to your numbing fingertips.

“What did you have in mind?” You asked, giving him an encouraging smile. 

He finally opened his eyes in surprise. That wasn’t a no! “I…can get back to you on that.” Caught off guard with your acceptance, but nonetheless, the athlete restrained himself from giving a victory fist bump at this good sign.

“Sure.” You smiled, thinking that you didn’t have anything else to lose and you definitely had nowhere to go this weekend. You were definitely intrigued and excited at where this new little adventure can take you.

“Yes?” 

“Yes, Tobio.” You laughed, turning back to  

Tobio’s grip on his plastic bag tightened at the sound of his name coming out of your lips. Now his stomach was really doing backflips. 

“C-can I get your number?” He asked, eager to not let this opportunity slip through his hands. “So I can get back to you for our…um, thing.”

Without realizing it, you’ve both stopped in front of the entrance of your dorm as you both exchanged numbers. 

“Have a good night.” You bid your goodbye as you walked inside your dorm entrance.

“You too.” Kageyama whispered, not even caring if you didn’t hear it as his eyes were stuck in a daze at your retreating figure as it disappeared behind the east wall, but not without glancing back at him with a small smile that struck right in his heart that hit him all the way back to his own dorm building, where Hinata, Yachi, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima were all hunched over their board game. 

He plopped his plastic bag of snacks and drinks, ignoring all of Hinata and Tsukishima’s jabs at his tardiness for his long walk back from the store with you was worth all the teasing. 

“Yachi!” He startled his old manager at his sudden outburst.

“What do girls like to do on Christmas?”

Not only did the group erupt with a whole new level of freak out at the surprise of Kageyama’s sudden “thing” with someone who didn’t go to high school with them, but they also learned that it IS possible to get kicked out of the lounge area of the campus dorms for an unacceptable level of “chatter”.

⋅˚₊‧ 𖥸 ‧₊˚ ⋅

To say you were quite impressed at how festive and cozy a dorm room could look like, excitement started to spread through you as noted all the multicolored lights that hung around his room, a mini Christmas tree on the side of his study table with a few cut out snowflakes spread out on the walls,  and the 2 sets of bare gingerbread material laid expectantly for you and your Christmas date for the evening.

Decorating gingerbread houses was something you never knew you’d enjoy. You’ve always wanted to do a little Christmas activity, but just never got around doing it because every time you offered, your friends either thought it was lame or too kiddie for your age, or like always, they just cancelled. 

You didn’t need them anyway. Kageyama was a delightful Christmas date, very gentlemanly and very conscious. Always making sure you felt right at home in his room, it was nice to feel taken care of even if it was just for the evening.

Humming along softly to the jazzy Christmas music playing in the background, your concentration lining up your candies for your house was interrupted with a pssk!

Kageyama squeezed a bit too hard on his piping bag and missed the roof of his house, landing a splat of sweet red icing on your cheek 

“I’m so sorry!” As he frantically looked through his desk for spare napkins that Yachi left inside the Christmas-Special-Gift-Basket that his friends helped assemble for him, to ensure he had everything he needed for your “thing”.

“It’s okay!” You giggled, wiping off the last of it with your finger and giving it a small lick. “Least now I know it’ll taste good.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Your eyebrows raised, mouth gaping in a small amused smile waiting for Kageyama to realize what he just said and what he’s implying.

“IT!” Kageyama’s eyes widened in shock. “I really, really meant to say IT.” 

The nervous volleyball player couldn’t help but groan and lay his head on the table contemplating to just start eating his gingerbread house to remove all evidence of this embarrassment, or run to the gym to yell and shout at his idiocy, or even curse at Hinata just because it was a reflex for him at this point. He could do either of these, but he prepared himself as he turned his head towards you, expecting to see cringe all over your face. 

And then suddenly, Kageyama forgot his urge to run away. Instead he wanted to stay in this very picturesque moment forever, with your bright smile that feels so at home among the warm holiday decorations that decorated his dorm, with your infectious laughter bouncing around the walls and through his heart, with your smile holding such child-like wonder and joy. 

Yes, Kageyama decided he can slip up as many times as needed, if only he gets to stay around your radiant smile all the time.

“I didn’t think you’d be so forward!” You praised him.

 “Just don’t bring it up again.” He grumbled, fighting the shy smile growing on his face.

“Alright, alright.” You chuckled. “If you get icing on me again, feel free to lick them off of me yourself so you can get a taste too.” 

“Shut up.” He winced thinking that was too mean, but he took a peek back at you with a smile that didn’t feel like leaving your face as you turned back to placing different colored M&Ms on your icing coated gingerbread roof.

⋅˚₊‧ 𖥸 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“I really like yours.” As you gestured to his simple white icing covered house with red and green candies scattered on the roof, but intriguingly had a very detailed mini-volleyball net (which isn’t holding up so well) and accurate lines for a court with a matching yellow and blue “volleyball” which is really just a yellow M&M covered in blue icing. 

“The court’s definitely my favorite part.” 

“Me too.” He nodded, smiling brightly at his little mini safe space of his favorite sport.

“So cute.” You whispered, catching that gleam in his eyes again that you wished you could see longer. 

The festivities didn’t stop there as you found yourself next to Kageyama, sitting almost shoulder to shoulder on his dorm bed, with his laptop propped up on a few pillows playing the opening credits to the holiday classic, Home Alone. Was it too on the nose? You couldn't tell, but you definitely pondered on it more as the movie went on.

Halfway through the movie, Kageyama couldn’t resist taking a peek at you. Eyes pointed straight at the TV, but they looked almost glassy and unfocused as if your mind was elsewhere at that moment. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” You shook your head to bring yourself back to the present. “I think I’m just tired.” Feeling embarrassed that you got caught while lost in thought. You hoped Kageyama didn’t think you were bored, so you took it as a sign to start some idle conversation, starting with the one question you were currently curious about your new found friend. 

“I never got to ask this earlier,” You thought over carefully on your next words. 

“Why didn’t you go home for the holidays, like your friends did?”

He shrugged as he revealed bluntly, “my parents aren’t around much.” He goes on about how they’ve been on more frequent business trips abroad since his high school days, not even showing up to his matches when his team played in national tournaments.

The whole time you couldn’t believe how these supposedly important people in a person’s life could easily miss out on Kageyama’s life like that. He’s clearly very passionate about volleyball and no one can deny his talent and skill for it. Your chest tightened at the pain of imagining a younger Kageyama getting ready for his match, but with a quick scan at the crowd, he'd easily notice the absence of his parents and sister in the crowd.

“And my sister’s spending this Christmas with some friends on a girls’ trip or something.” 

“Must be nice for them to not be alone on Christmas.” Your bitter tone slipped. You frowned as you munched your popcorn, trying hard not to take out your frustration on the snack bowl.

If Kageyama picked up that tone in your voice, he didn’t show it. “We’re not alone either. Not anymore.” He said, words dripping with sincerity as it hung in the air of the small dorm room. 

He was right. Some could probably say it was a coincidence how you both ended up as one of the few people living on school grounds in the middle of winter break when most of the students, teachers and staff have left for their own holidays. 

But some could also say, it was fate for these two souls who haven’t felt seen by their supposedly loved ones in a long time, who grew up lonelier and lonelier as the people around them moved on, grew up, or drifted away. Maybe, just maybe, it was fate leading them to each other, as some kind of plot twist they didn’t know they needed to have in their life. 

⋅˚₊‧ 𖥸 ‧₊˚ ⋅

As the movie came to an end, so does your little Christmas date with Kageyama. You almost didn’t want to leave from your position after having really snuggled yourself under the soft, plush blanket that Kageyama had especially put on the side for you.

“This was really fun.” You slowly stretched your legs as you reluctantly got off of his warm bed. “I’m really glad you invited me, Tobio. Thank you.” You said. 

Kageyama beamed with pride as he felt so seen in your eyes. Spending time with you, just the two of you, was probably the best present he could have ever received this Christmas. Despite knowing he embarrassed himself a few times that night, he didn’t think anything else could top the evening. Except maybe…

As you picked up your bag to turn towards his door, you felt a gentle hand land on your shoulder, gently spinning you around back to the blueberry eyed boy standing in front of you with a look that just made you want to melt on the spot.

“You don’t have to be alone on Christmas again.” Kageyama started. “We can do this again next year.” 

He added, “Or doesn’t have to be next year. Can be anytime you want,” Kageyama tried to control his enthusiasm, but he couldn’t help it. Being around you felt like he could hit 10 service aces in a row, (he secretly wants to test this theory, but that’s for another time). 

Maybe this was the kind of feeling that people call “walking on cloud 9” or maybe it’s what falling in love felt like. Regardless, of what it is, Kageyama knew he wanted to keep being in your life, “If that’s something you’d like?”

“Do you really mean that?”

To Kageyama, it was a no-brainer question. But, looking at the soft look in your eyes and how the multicolored sparkles of light dancing across your irises, illuminated by the holiday fairy lights that were decorating his bookshelf, a small sliver of hope flickered on your face, awaiting his answer.

He knew at that moment that the question held more weight to it for you. He knew at that moment, he didn’t want you to go through another lonely Christmas or birthday, or Valentines’ Day, or if you just wanted company. He’d be there for you if you’d call.

Kageyama nodded as he poured all the honesty he had in his heart, sealing his “yes” in a promise.

“Then, I’d like that very much.” You said.

At the corner of your eye, you noticed something dangling at the edge of Kageyama’s bookshelf, sticking out between two books that almost looked like it’d fall off after one big shove on the shelf.  “Is that…”

Kageyama took a step closer to the shelf to pluck it out of its wedged place and pushed back the books so they wouldn’t fall on either of you. 

As he realized that he also took a step closer to you. He raised the mystery item in between the two of you and revealed a small famous christmas ornament, laced perfectly with a red-ribbon.

“Mistletoe.” You bit your lip cheekily at him, subtly questioning his intentions for the end of your evening together. 

“My friends left it here, I swear.” He protested.

“Mhm.”

“I hate those guys.” He argued.

“Mhm, sure you do.” 

“I really, really hate them.” 

“Yeah, I hear you.” You laughed at his poor attempts at a defense.

“I don’t hate you though.” He shyly admitted in defeat.

“You’re really cute when you get caught.” You giggled.

With confidence and gentle hands, Kageyama brought his fingers through some stray hairs that draped down the sides of your face, moving the strands aside to rest his hand on the side of your cheek. 

“I know this isn’t where you wanted to be this weekend.” He started, with his eyes never leaving yours as it searched for any hint of rejection from you as he continued. “But I just really wanted to say,”

“Yeah?” Your eyes shined with encouragement that silently told him to relax as you both drew closer to each other.

“I’m glad you’re here,” He whispered as his lips brushed across from yours, “Truly.”

“Me too.” You agreed as you closed your eyes and the gap between you two, sealing your promises to each other with a sweet kiss.

Your friend cancelling on your holiday plans now seemed to be for the best. At least because of it, you finally had someone to be with that actually enjoyed your company, and that you wouldn’t mind making one or two new Christmas plans with Kageyama. Knowing you’ll both be there for each other not just for holidays but also for every other important milestone in your lives that have yet to come.