It was nearly three in the morning when you finally drifted off. The clock on the nightstand had taunted you with every glowing red digit, each one marking the fact that you were still wide awake while Kuroo slept soundly beside you.
By the time your eyes grew too heavy to fight, his words were still echoing in your head, circling like a storm you couldn't escape. Smartest. Strongest. Prettiest. Perfect. You fell asleep with your pulse racing, tangled somewhere between dread and something you refused to name.
When your eyes finally blinked open again, it was far too soon. The room was dim, the soft gray of early morning bleeding in through the curtains. Your body ached from exhaustion, but it wasn't the sunlight or the stiffness that jolted you awake.
It was warmth.
Your head rested against his chest, his steady heartbeat thudding beneath your ear. One of his arms was locked firmly around your waist, keeping you tucked against him, while your legs gosh, your legs were tangled with his.
Your breath caught so sharply you almost choked on it.
Every nerve in your body lit up like a warning signal. This wasn't just "sharing a bed." This was cuddling. Full-on, no-space-between-you, breathing-each-other's-air cuddling.
And Kuroo Tetsurō was still sound asleep.
Panic flared. Heat flooded your cheeks, and before you could stop yourself before you even thought it through you shoved at his chest in a blind flustered rush. There was a grunt, a thud, and then a muffled, "Ow—what the hell?" as Kuroo hit the floor.
You froze, still clutching the sheets in your fists, staring down at him wide-eyed.
His hair was sticking up in every direction, his eyes half-lidded and bleary as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Did you just… kick me out of bed?" His voice was hoarse with sleep, dripping with confusion.
Your face burned hotter. "Y-you were—! I mean, you—! I didn't—!"
He blinked at you, then let out a low groan, dragging a hand down his face. "It's too early for whatever this is." He grabbed the nearest pillow off the floor and flopped back down against it, closing his eyes again like he could just pretend the last thirty seconds hadn't happened.
You gaped at him, heart still hammering against your ribs. He wasn't… he wasn't saying anything. No mention of last night. Not a word about the things he'd whispered when he thought you were asleep.
"Wait," you blurted, your voice sharper than you intended. "Do you… remember anything from last night?"
Kuroo cracked one eye open at you, brow furrowed. "Last night? You mean practice? Or when you stole all the blankets?" He smirked faintly, already sliding back into his usual self, like nothing about the night had been different at all.
Your stomach dropped.
He didn't remember.
Not a single word.
And somehow, that made your heart race even worse.
You swallowed hard, clutching the blanket tighter around you, torn between relief and disappointment you couldn't admit out loud. Because while Kuroo had moved on like it was any other morning, you knew better.
You remembered everything.
Every word, every breath, every unsteady confession that had slipped past his lips when he thought you were asleep. And the fact that he didn't remember any of it only made your chest twist harder.
Dragging yourself out of bed, you tried to shake the heaviness clinging to you. Practice was in less than an hour. Volleyball was safe. Volleyball was familiar. Volleyball didn't come with late-night confessions or the sound of his heartbeat under your cheek.
You clutched your duffel bag and retreated to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face until your reflection looked less like a lovesick disaster and more like a captain ready for another grueling day.
When you finally stepped back out, Kuroo was already half-dressed, tugging his jersey over his head. His hair was even messier than usual, sticking up in wild tufts that made him look like he'd rolled through three storms on the way out of bed.
He caught sight of you and grinned. "Well, well. Look who finally decided to crawl out of the bathroom." You shot him a glare, shoving your notebook into your bag. "Some of us don't look like we wrestled a raccoon in our sleep."
He raised a brow, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Funny, considering you're the one who threw me onto the floor this morning." Your cheeks burned immediately. "I—I didn't throw you! You startled me, that's all."
"Ohhh." He leaned lazily against the wall, eyes narrowing in amusement as he looked you over. "That explains why you've been twitchy since you woke up. You're flustered."
"I am not flustered," you snapped, yanking your bag over your shoulder a little too forcefully.
Kuroo tilted his head, his grin widening as if you'd just confirmed his suspicion. "You so are. Look at you face all red, avoiding eye contact. I don't even have to try, and you're already cracking."
You spun on your heel toward the door before he could see how much hotter your face had gotten. "Shut up, Kuroo. We're going to be late." He chuckled under his breath, following close behind. "Relax, princess. I'll make sure you don't trip over your own feet on the way to practice."
You clenched your jaw, every step heavy with irritation you weren't sure was entirely real anymore. Because beneath the sharp edges of his teasing, beneath the constant smirks and sarcastic remarks, you couldn't shake the memory of his voice last night soft, unguarded, and nothing like this.
And no matter how much you told yourself otherwise, your heart refused to forget.
The morning air was sharp and cool, carrying the faint bite of dew as you and Kuroo walked side by side toward the gym. The path was quiet, save for the crunch of gravel beneath your sneakers and the distant calls of teammates already gathering inside.
Usually, you'd fill the silence with a snarky comment. Or he would. But today, your throat felt tight, weighed down by the echo of his voice from last night, the words he hadn't finished, and the memory you couldn't erase.
"You're awfully quiet," Kuroo said, his tone laced with playful suspicion. He shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
You rolled your eyes, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. "Not everything's about you, Kuroo." His smirk tugged wider, though his gaze lingered. "Maybe not everything. But most things are."
Normally, you'd fire back without hesitation. But the heat rising in your chest made it impossible. You looked away, staring stubbornly at the gym ahead. He slowed his pace, falling half a step behind to study you. "You know… for someone who keeps claiming they're not flustered, you're sure acting like it."
Your pulse jumped. "I told you I'm fine. Just tired from yesterday's practice."
"Mm." He hummed thoughtfully, but there was no teasing in it this time. "Funny. You're a terrible liar when you're tired." You stiffened, biting back the urge to snap. He noticed. He always noticed.
Kuroo tilted his head, eyes narrowing with something sharper than amusement. "Seriously, though. What's up with you? You've been jumpy all morning, and don't say it's just 'fatigue.' I've seen you drag yourself through workouts on less sleep, and you didn't look like this."
Your steps faltered for half a second, just enough for him to catch. His smirk softened into something more curious, almost careful. "Hey," he nudged your shoulder lightly with his own, the contact brief but enough to make your stomach flip. "I'm not trying to get under your skin this time. Just… checking in."
Your throat went dry. For one terrifying moment, you thought about telling him the truth that you weren't jumpy because of practice or exhaustion. That you remembered every single word he'd said last night, and it had shaken you more than any rivalry ever could.
But the words stuck, heavy and impossible, so you forced out the safest answer you could.
"I said I'm fine, Kuroo. Drop it."
He raised a brow, lips quaking faintly, but this time he didn't push. "Alright, alright. Fine." Yet as you reached the gym doors, you felt his eyes still on you sharp, searching, and far too close to the truth.
Practice began the way it always did: stretching, drills, rotations. The steady rhythm of sneakers squeaking against polished floors and volleyballs echoing against the walls usually drowned out everything else. Usually.
But Kuroo was relentless.
"Oi, Y/n," he called during warmups, tossing a ball lazily between his hands. "You look a little tense. Didn't sleep well last night?"
Your head snapped toward him, heart leaping to your throat. His grin widened instantly he'd hit a nerve. You forced a scoff, shoving your water bottle into your bag. "I slept fine. Stop worrying about me and focus on your team."
"Trust me," he said, spinning the ball on his finger with practiced ease, "I can do both. Multitasking, remember?" You rolled your eyes, but the heat crawling up your neck betrayed you.
Later, during drills, he found another opening. "You're usually sharper than this," he teased after you missed a dig by half a second. "What's distracting you, huh? Thinking about me?"
The words hit harder than they should have, your body reacting before your brain could stop it. You nearly stumbled, the ball slipping past your reach. Kuroo chuckled, dark eyes glittering as he helped reset the play. "Oh? That struck a nerve. Interesting."
Your teeth ground together. "You're insufferable."
"And you're easy to read," he countered smoothly, leaning just close enough for only you to hear. "You've been jumpy since this morning. Don't think I haven't noticed."
Your pulse spiked, the memory of his voice in the dark last night echoing, mocking. Perfect. Prettiest. Smartest. You snapped your head toward him, trying to summon the sharp edge of your usual retorts, but your voice betrayed you with the faintest waver. "I said drop it, Kuroo."
For a split second, his smirk faltered, replaced by something softer curiosity, maybe even concern. But just as quickly, it returned, playful and sharp.
"Fine," he said, backing up toward his side of the court. "But you're only making me more curious." And with that, he tossed the ball back into play, as if nothing had happened leaving you rattled, your composure hanging by a thread.