Warmth. That was the first thing you felt.
A soft, steady heat pressed against your back, seeping into your skin, wrapping you in a cocoon that made you want to sink deeper into the mattress. The air was quiet, broken only by the slow rhythm of breathing near your ear. For a fleeting moment, half-buried in a haze of sleep, you let yourself enjoy it. Safe. Comfortable. Almost… right.
But then your eyes blinked open, the fog slowly lifting.
Your gaze traveled down over the arm draped firmly around your waist, the hand splayed casually against your hip, the chest rising and falling in sync with your own. Your stomach dropped.
Kuroo.
Every nerve in your body lit up at once. You were in his arms. Kuroo Tetsurō, your rival, your tormentor, your impossible enemy, was holding you like it was the most natural thing in the world.
For a heartbeat, panic clawed at you. You should've shoved him away, shouted, done anything to create distance. And yet… you froze. Because as dangerous as it was, the warmth of his hold, the easy way he fit against you, made it far too easy to forget who he was.
You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing, praying he was still asleep. But then, as if the universe delighted in your misery, you felt the faintest shift, his fingers curling slightly against your side, his chest brushing your back as he inhaled deeply. "You're awake," he murmured, voice low and rough with sleep.
Your body went rigid. "Y-you—let go!" you stammered, struggling against his grip. Instead of releasing you, he chuckled softly, the sound sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. "Relax. You're tense. I was just keeping you warm."
You twisted enough to glare at him, though your face was burning. "Keeping me—? You were practically glued to me!" His grin spread slowly, lazy and smug, as if he had been waiting for this exact reaction. "Not my fault you're comfortable."
"Kuroo—" you hissed, trying to wriggle free again, but his arm only tightened for a moment, playfully defiant. "You really think I'd let go that easily?" he teased, his golden eyes glinting in the morning light. "Come on. Admit it you didn't mind."
"I did mind!" you snapped, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you.
"Mm, sure," he hummed, leaning just a fraction closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "That's why you didn't move all night." Your pulse thundered in your ears, and you finally shoved at his chest with enough force to break free, scrambling upright on the edge of the bed. "You're impossible!"
Behind you, Kuroo stretched lazily, arms over his head, as if nothing about the situation was remotely unusual. His grin lingered, soft but undeniably smug. "And yet… you stayed."
You groaned into your hands, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. Because as much as you wanted to deny it, as much as you wanted to bury the thought so deep it never saw the light of day
He wasn't wrong.
You had stayed.
Your fingers clenched around the edge of the blanket, knuckles whitening. If you admitted that out loud, he'd never let you live it down. Worse, you'd never live it down with yourself. So you did the only thing you could: you glared at him like he was the biggest mistake the universe had ever made.
"Don't flatter yourself," you snapped, voice still a little shaky. "If I didn't move, it's because I was too tired to care." Kuroo propped himself up on one elbow, messy hair falling into his face, and smirked. "So… you're saying you chose to stay? That's even better."
You grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at him. "That's not what I said!" He caught it effortlessly, laughing under his breath, the sound deep and maddeningly warm. "Careful, Y/n. You're going to make me think you actually like having me around."
You refused to dignify that with an answer, storming to your bag to dig for a change of clothes. Anything to put distance between you and the stupidly smug grin plastered across his face. But the heat on your cheeks gave you away, and you knew it.
Behind you, the bed creaked as he flopped back against it. "Don't worry," he said lightly, almost teasing but softer than usual, "I'll keep your secret safe. I know how much your pride means to you."
You froze, your shirt half-pulled over your head. The casualness of his tone, the way he'd said it like he understood you better than you wanted him to it set your chest buzzing with something dangerously close to… fondness.
Shaking the thought away, you yanked your shirt the rest of the way on and grabbed your water bottle. "Just get ready for practice, Kuroo. The only thing I like is winning, and you'd better hope you can keep up today."
"Mm," he hummed, and you didn't have to look back to know that insufferable grin was still there. "Guess we'll see if you're still as fiery on the court as you are in bed."
Your head whipped around, eyes wide. "You—!"
But he was already laughing, sliding off the bed with a stretch, his voice lazy as he brushed past you toward the door. "Relax. You make it too easy." You groaned, throwing your head back. This week was going to kill you.
And the worst part? It wasn't because of volleyball.
By the time you made it to the gym, your chest was still buzzing with leftover heat, every sharp inhale reminding you of the way his arm had fit around your waist. You shook your head violently, like you could fling the memory out through sheer force. This wasn't the time. You needed your focus, your edge.
But then Kuroo strolled in behind you, hands shoved lazily in his pockets, smirk already in place like he'd been waiting all morning just to drive you insane.
"Try not to trip over your own feet, Y/n," he called out smoothly, loud enough for his teammates to snicker. "Wouldn't want anyone thinking you're distracted." Your fists clenched at your sides. Distracted? He knew. He knew exactly what he was doing.
"Focus on yourself," you shot back, turning sharply on your heel. "Wouldn't want your team watching their captain get demolished."
He gave a mock bow, his grin positively wicked. "Can't wait. Show me what you've got."
The warm-up drills started, but your body felt like it was at war with itself. Every time you pushed harder, every time you nailed a spike, you could feel his eyes on you. Watching. Testing. Daring. The rivalry had always burned hot, but now it sparked in ways you weren't prepared for.
When the scrimmage started, it only got worse. Kuroo was in his element, sharp, cunning, always one step ahead. But instead of just trying to outplay you, it felt like he was playing with you, tossing sly comments between serves, grinning every time you countered him.
"Nice try," he teased after you blocked one of his spikes. His smirk widened when you landed right in front of him, breaths heavy, eyes locked. "Guess I'll have to try harder if I really want to get past you."
The way he said it low, deliberate made your pulse hammer. You forced yourself to step back, shoving the thought away with every ounce of stubbornness you had.
This wasn't just volleyball anymore. It hadn't been since the moment you'd woken up in his arms.
You'd faced high-pressure games, crowds screaming, entire futures dangling on the outcome of a single serve. But this tightening in your chest every time his eyes found yours, the way your skin burned hotter from his grin than from running drills it was a different kind of danger. One you had no playbook for.
The scrimmage was brutal, fast-paced and demanding, but your body moved like it had something to prove. Every jump, every spike, every dig was sharper, cleaner, fueled by the fire clawing inside you. And Kuroo noticed. Of course he did.
"Damn," he muttered after you shut down another one of his quick attacks. His smirk never wavered, but there was something else in his gaze now: heat, interest, something that made your breath catch. "You're relentless today."
"Don't flatter yourself," you shot back, chest heaving. "I'd play this hard against anyone."
"Mm, but it's more fun with me, isn't it?" His voice dipped, too low for the others to catch. It was meant for you alone. Your throat went dry, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. You turned away, jogging back into position, ignoring the way your heartbeat pounded against your ribs.
By the time the scrimmage ended, sweat plastered your hair to your forehead, your limbs ached, and your lungs burned but you'd matched him step for step. Neither of you had come out on top. Not really.
And somehow, that was worse than losing.
Because as you both collapsed onto opposite sides of the gym floor, panting and glistening with sweat, his gaze drifted over to you again. Tired. Amused. And something else you didn't dare put a name to.
You looked away first. You had to.
But the truth settled heavy in your chest anyway: Kuroo Tetsurō wasn't just your rival anymore. He was something far, far more dangerous. And if you weren't careful, he was going to ruin you.
The thought clung to you long after the scrimmage ended, even as the teams packed up and drifted out of the gym. You tried to shake it off stretching longer than necessary, lingering with your water bottle, anything to clear the haze in your head. But the truth stuck, stubborn and immovable.
Because Kuroo Tetsurō wasn't just getting under your skin anymore. He was everywhere. You didn't even realize how lost in thought you were until a shadow fell over you. "You good?" His voice was too casual, but there was a sharpness underneath it, like he already knew the answer.
You stiffened, tossing your empty bottle into your bag. "Fine. Just tired."
Kuroo crouched down in front of you, resting his arms lazily over his knees, sweat still dripping down his temple. He grinned, slow and infuriating. "You sure? Looked more like you were thinking about me."
Your head snapped up. "What—absolutely not!"
He chuckled, low in his chest, and stood. "Relax. I'm kidding… mostly."
You hated the way your face burned, hated how easily he could pull reactions out of you. And yet, when he extended a hand to help you up, you hesitated only a second before taking it. His palm was warm, calloused, steady and it lingered a moment too long before you yanked yours away.
The walk back to the dorms was mercifully quiet, though your mind was anything but. Every step reminded you that the night would end the same way it had the last few nights: with you trapped in the same room as him. The same air. The same space.
And sure enough, as you unlocked the door and stepped inside, the tension pressed down on you like a storm waiting to break. Kuroo tossed his bag onto his bed, stretching like he owned the place, while you lingered near the desk, arms crossed like a shield.
He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, that knowing smirk tugging at his lips again. "Careful, Y/n. Keep looking at me like that, and I'll start to think you actually like me." You scoffed, turning away before he saw the flush creeping up your neck. "In your dreams."
"Funny," he said, voice low and teasing as he leaned back on his bed, hands behind his head, "you've been in mine."
Your heart skipped, your hands clenched, and you bolted for the bathroom before he could see your face. Because the truth was dangerous. And you weren't sure how much longer you could keep running from it.