The sharp ding of your phone dragged you out of your notebook scribbles. Practice had left your muscles sore, your brain fried, but apparently the universe wasn't done with you yet.
Inbox: Update to Training Camp Schedule.
You opened it without thinking, skimming the neat block of text only to stop dead halfway through. Your heart sank. Then it sped up.
"Due to the schedule conflict and venue arrangements, the interscholastic training camp has been extended to a total of two months. We appreciate your flexibility and dedication."
Two. Months.
Two months of joint practices. Two months of late-night study sessions. Two months of strategy meetings.
Two months of sharing a room.
And, worse, a bed.
You stared at the screen like it had personally betrayed you, your stomach doing flips so wild you thought you might be sick. This was supposed to be temporary, an annoyance, an obstacle you could grit your teeth through. A few weeks, then back to your life, your normal.
Not sixty days of Kuroo Tetsurō. Not sixty nights of trying to ignore how close he always seemed to be. A groan slipped out before you could stop it, and of course, his voice came from across the room, lazy and far too amused.
"What's with the face? You look like someone just told you practice doubled."
You hesitated. "…Worse."
He tilted his head, towel still draped around his neck from the shower. "Worse than double practice? That's gotta be bad. Lemme see." Before you could protest, he was already leaning over your shoulder, his damp hair brushing your cheek as he read the screen.
His chuckle was immediate, low and infuriating. "Two months, huh? Guess you're stuck with me."
"Stuck isn't the word I'd use," you muttered, snapping your phone shut. "Oh?" His grin widened, sharp as ever. "What word would you use then? Blessed? Lucky? Overjoyed?"
You shot him a glare, but it only made him laugh harder.
"You know," he said, flopping onto the bed with zero regard for your spiraling thoughts, "sharing a room with me for two months doesn't sound so bad. You might even start to like it." Your chest tightened, because the scary part was you already did. You pressed your notebook flat against your lap, hoping it might shield you from the heat rising in your cheeks. Two months.
Sixty days.
Sixty nights.
And suddenly, volleyball didn't feel like the hardest challenge anymore. Because if two months with Kuroo Tetsurō in the same room and the same bed was what she had to endure, she wasn't going to let herself crumble. Not now, not ever.
Her fists clenched around her notebook. The scholarship wasn't just some distant goal anymore it was her lifeline, her anchor. If she could earn it, if she could prove herself on every drill, every serve, every spike, she could navigate two months with Kuroo without losing her mind or worse, her heart.
Two months. Two months of late nights, joint strategy sessions, forced proximity. Two months to either break or… maybe learn to survive.
She straightened in her chair, spine stiff, resolving hardening like cement in her chest. Kuroo might tease her. Kuroo might try to push her buttons. He might smirk, lean too close, or steal the blanket but she refused to let that be the reason she faltered.
Not when the scholarship was on the line.
Not when she knew she could be better than him. Better than everyone.
Kuroo, sprawled lazily across the bed with that infuriating smirk, glanced up and raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Look at you, all fire and determination. Planning to crush me in practice now or just plotting world domination?"
She swallowed hard, cheeks flushing at the mix of his teasing and the unexpected warmth in his tone. "I'm going to get that scholarship. And you," she said firmly, pointing a finger at him, "are not going to get in my way."
His smirk faltered just slightly just enough for her to notice. His golden eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was an edge there now, sharp and undeniable. "Not gonna get in your way, huh?" he murmured, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "We'll see about that, Captain."
You exhaled, a mix of frustration and determination flooding through you. Two months might be enough to make things… complicated. But if she played her cards right, she could survive, maybe even come out on top. And she'd be damned if Kuroo Tetsurō smirking, infuriating, impossible was going to distract her from her goal.
She was ready.
Two months. Bring it on.
Except right now, her mind was a tangled mess of volleyball drills, strategy notes, and… him. Kuroo was sprawled on the bed, smirking like he owned every inch of the room, and for the first time in weeks, Y/n felt the need to escape. Not forever just long enough to think.
She slipped on her sneakers, tugged her hoodie over her uniform, and quietly opened the door. The hallway was empty, the late afternoon sun slanting through the windows, painting the floor gold. The campus was calm, a sharp contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling in her head.
A slow, deliberate walk seemed like the only way to untangle them. Breath in. Breath out. Focus on the rhythm of her steps.
And that's when she heard it.
"Y/n!"
She froze. There he was Oikawa Tōru, leaning casually against the railing of the walkway, as smooth and infuriatingly charming as ever. He tilted his head, eyes crinkling in that familiar smile. "You're out for a walk?" he asked, stepping closer. "Mind if I join you?"
She hesitated, torn between annoyance and… something else. But there was no escaping that smile. "Uh… sure. Just a walk," she said cautiously.
"Perfect," he said, falling into step beside her. The pace was easy, natural. "I thought maybe I'd run into you here. It's nice to see you outside the chaos of practice for once." You tried to focus on the cool breeze brushing past your face, forcing your heart to calm. "It's… nice out," you muttered, keeping your tone neutral.
Oikawa tilted his head, studying you carefully. "You've been working so hard," he said. "Even after practice, still poring over notes. I admire that. And honestly… It's impressive." Your cheeks warmed, though you tried to hide it. Compliments weren't rare but coming from him, with that attention, it felt different, like a weight pressing down on your chest.
"You're… kind of relentless," you said finally, managing a small smile.
He grinned, that easy, infuriating grin. "Only the best for someone like you."
And of course, of course, Kuroo appeared.
You hadn't noticed him slipping out behind the building, and suddenly he was there, standing just a few feet away, eyes sharp and unreadable. Heat flared in your chest not just from embarrassment, but from the way his jaw tightened, the subtle flare of his nostrils.
"Taking a walk without me?" His voice was calm, but the possessiveness dripped off every syllable.
Oikawa's grin didn't falter, but he tilted his head slightly, amused. "I was just keeping Y/n company. Nothing to worry about." Kuroo didn't move, didn't flinch. His gaze, however, followed every step you took, every gesture you made, and it was the kind of intense focus that made your stomach twist.
"Uh… Kuroo—" you started, but he cut you off with a sharp glance, and you realized he wasn't about to let you slip away.
The tension was instantaneous, thick in the golden light of the afternoon, two captains circling, and you caught yourself in the middle, heart hammering, cheeks aflame. And in that moment, you realized two months wasn't just going to be about volleyball. It was going to be a test of patience, control, and maybe… restraint.
Oikawa's grin widened just slightly, like he could read every thought swirling in the air around you. "You know," he said lightly, voice smooth and teasing, "it's kind of cute how he's… attentive. Protective, even."
Your stomach dropped. He noticed.
Kuroo's jaw tightened imperceptibly, eyes flicking to Oikawa before snapping back to you. Heat pooled in your chest as you realized how sharp the possessiveness was his stance, the slight narrowing of his gaze, the almost imperceptible tension in his shoulders.
"I'm… cute?" you asked, voice caught somewhere between disbelief and irritation, cheeks flaming. "Not you," Oikawa replied smoothly, eyes on Kuroo this time. "Him. He looks like he's about to leap at me at any moment. Kinda funny, really."
Kuroo's smirk, usually infuriatingly confident, was replaced with a flash of something darker. His hands flexed at his sides, and the playful edge in his eyes was gone. You groaned inwardly. Perfect. Just perfect. Two months, and Kuroo was already spiraling into jealous mode.
Without another word, you lifted your water bottle, shouldered your bag, and started walking. Past Kuroo. Past Oikawa. Past the tension crackling like electricity in the golden afternoon.
"Y/n—wait!" Kuroo called, but you didn't slow. You refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Oikawa chuckled softly, falling back a step to match your pace. "She's… spirited," he murmured, more to himself than to you.
You didn't answer. You didn't look back. Two months might be a test of patience, control, and restraint, but right now, walking away keeping your composure intact felt like victory.
And in that small, quiet defiance, you realized something else: maybe surviving two months with Kuroo Tetsurō wouldn't just be about volleyball. It would be about keeping your own heart intact.
Easier said than done.
The further you walked, the more your chest tightened not from Oikawa's teasing, not even from the lingering echo of his words, but from the way Kuroo had looked at you. Not smug. Not playful. Not even irritated. No, it was sharper than that. Something raw and unguarded that you weren't supposed to see.
You tightened your grip on your water bottle, quickening your pace until you slipped into the quiet stretch behind the gym. The cicadas buzzed in the distance, the evening air heavy with summer warmth, and for a fleeting moment, you let yourself breathe.
Two months. Same room. Same bed. Same boy who could unravel you with nothing more than a half-smile and a comment laced with sarcasm. You pressed your forehead against the cool metal of the water bottle and exhaled.
You had to stay focused. On volleyball. On the scholarship. On proving you were the best. Not on the way his voice had softened in the dark the night before. Not on how close he'd pulled you when sleep blurred the line between rivalry and something else entirely.
"Y/n."
Your heart leapt into your throat. You spun around.
And of course it was him.
Kuroo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, hair even messier than usual from practice, eyes fixed right on you. The sight alone was enough to send a rush of heat to your face.
"You really like walking away from me, huh?" His tone was light, teasing but there was an undercurrent beneath it, one you couldn't ignore. You straightened, forcing your voice steady. "Maybe I just don't feel like being caught between two oversized egos trying to one-up each other."
His smirk curved, but his eyes didn't waver. "Oversized ego? Ouch. You wound me." He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, the kind of movement that made your pulse trip over itself. "But for the record…" His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "…I don't like sharing attention when it comes to you."
Your breath caught.
Dangerous. This was dangerous.
So you did what you always did, you masked. Rolled your eyes. Forced a laugh. "You're ridiculous. Go cool off, captain."
But your chest betrayed you, tight and aching, your heart hammering like you were already losing a match you swore you wouldn't. Because the truth was simple. Kuroo Tetsurō was a game you didn't know how to win.