Your lungs burned, your legs heavy, but you didn't slow down. Each step of your jog hammered into the ground like you were trying to pound out the storm still swirling in your chest. Two months. Two months of sharing a room, a bed, a life tangled too close to his and already, the walls you'd built were thinning.
When you finally rounded the last bend, chest heaving, there he was. Leaning casually against the fence near the track, water bottle dangling from one hand, smirk carved across his face like he'd been waiting for you all morning. "About time, slowpoke." Kuroo pushed off the fence and held out the bottle. "Thought I was gonna have to come drag you back."
You narrowed your eyes, snatching the bottle, though your throat was too dry to argue. The water was cool, grounding, but his gaze lingered heavier than it should have. "Some of us," you said between breaths, "actually care about training, you know. I'm not here to slack off."
"Relax, champ." He fell into step beside you as you started walking, hands shoved into his pockets. "I'm not saying don't work hard. Just don't burn yourself out before the first match. That's my job, to make you collapse."
You shot him a look, but he only grinned wider, and somehow, instead of annoying, it felt… steadying.
The silence stretched between you as your feet crunched along the path, the camp buildings glowing in the distance. Finally, you sighed, clutching the water bottle a little tighter. "I don't have the luxury of slowing down, Kuroo. That scholarship… it's everything. If I don't earn it—" Your throat closed up around the words.
For once, he didn't laugh.
His shoulder brushed yours lightly, and when you glanced up, his smirk was gone. "You will."
You blinked at him, startled by the certainty in his voice.
He tilted his head, looking straight ahead, his tone quieter than you'd ever heard it. "You push harder than anyone I know. You've got more fight in you than half the guys I've played against. If anyone's gonna grab that scholarship, it's you."
Your chest ached in a way that had nothing to do with the run. "Why do you care so much?" you asked before you could stop yourself.
He slowed, hands slipping out of his pockets, and for a heartbeat, the air shifted. "Maybe because…" He trailed off, eyes flicking toward you, something raw sparking there. "…because I like watching you prove everyone wrong."
Your breath caught.
The words weren't a confession. Not quite. But they lingered close enough to set your heart racing all over again. You looked away quickly, gripping the bottle so tightly it creaked. "You're impossible, you know that?" Kuroo chuckled softly, but there was no teasing bite to it this time. Just warmth. "Yeah. Guess you'll just have to keep dealing with me."
And though you told yourself to stay guarded, to keep the walls up your chest betrayed you, loosening in the quiet between you as if you wanted him to slip inside.
The crunch of gravel under your sneakers filled the silence, steady and unhurried. For once, he wasn't teasing, wasn't smirking. He was just… there. And that was somehow scarier than all the banter in the world. "You ever feel like," you started slowly, the words dragging out of you before you could catch them, "if you stop moving, even for a second, everything will fall apart?"
Kuroo glanced at you, his brows furrowing slightly. He didn't answer right away, and you almost regretted saying it almost told him to forget it. But then he exhaled softly, like you'd touched something he wasn't expecting.
"Yeah," he admitted, his voice quieter than you'd ever heard it. "More than I'd like to."
You turned your head toward him, surprised, but he wasn't looking at you. His eyes were fixed on the path ahead, shoulders tense like he'd just cracked himself open by mistake. "Everyone thinks I've got it all figured out," he continued, tone dipping low. "The whole captain thing, the confidence, the dumb one-liners. But half the time? I'm just trying to hold everything together before it slips out of my hands."
Hearing Kuroo say that Kuroo of all people made your chest tighten. He was the one who always looked untouchable, who always had a comeback, who never faltered. And now, hearing him admit that weight, you didn't know what to do with the ache that settled in your throat.
"You hide it well," you murmured, softer than you meant to.
"Yeah, well." He shoved his hands back into his pockets, giving a humorless chuckle. "If people start seeing the cracks, the whole thing falls apart faster. Can't let that happen. Not when everyone's counting on you."
The words sank into you heavier than you expected. Because you knew that feeling too well.
"That's… kind of the same for me," you confessed. You stared down at the bottle in your hands, fiddling with the cap to distract yourself. "The scholarship, the camp, all of it. It feels like if I mess up, even once, everything I've worked for is just… gone."
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your footsteps. Then, Kuroo slowed, shifting just enough that his arm brushed against yours again. The touch was subtle, but grounding.
"Guess we're both pretending not to drown, huh?" His voice was gentle now, no edge, no tease. Just real.
You swallowed, forcing a shaky laugh. "Yeah. Pretending."
But when you looked up at him, his gaze was already on you, steady and searching, like he could see through every wall you thought you had left. And in that moment, something shifted not in rivalry, not in playful jabs, but in the space where vulnerability lived. The kind of connection you didn't expect to find here, with him, of all people.
The two of you walked in silence for a while after that, but it wasn't heavy. If anything, it felt lighter like speaking those truths had unburdened something, even if only a little. Kuroo finally broke it, his voice quiet but steady. "You know… for what it's worth, I don't think you're the kind of person who's gonna let it all slip away. You're too damn stubborn."
You huffed out a laugh, half embarrassed, half warmed by the words. "That's not exactly a compliment."
"Sure it is," he countered, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It's why you're here. Why you're not gonna let anyone outwork you." He paused, then added more softly, "Why you're not gonna fail."
Your chest tightened at the certainty in his tone. Like he believed it more than you did.
"And you?" you asked before you could stop yourself. "Do you ever believe that about yourself?"
The question seemed to catch him off guard. His stride faltered for a beat before he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, eyes on the ground. "Some days," he admitted. "Other days… not so much." You frowned, feeling something in you pull at the edges. "But you should. You're—you're good. Really good. Everyone sees it."
He looked at you then, and there was something raw in his gaze that almost made you look away. "Not everyone," he murmured, like the words weren't meant to escape.
Your breath hitched. For a second, you thought he might actually say more, that he might push the thought all the way out into the open. His lips parted, his expression flickering with something almost unguarded. But then he shook his head, exhaling a laugh that sounded like he was trying to play it off. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."
You wanted to ask, wanted to press, but the look on his face stopped you. Vulnerable. Fragile in a way you'd never seen from him before. If you pushed, you might break it.
So instead, you stayed quiet. Still, the words lingered in the air, unfinished and heavy, leaving you wondering what it was he almost said and why some selfish part of you wished he had.
The quiet between you wasn't empty. It pulsed. Every step you took side by side, every brush of your arms as the path narrowed, every stolen glance that lingered too long it all built, stacking on top of the other until the weight of it pressed at your ribs.
You could feel his gaze on you again, even before you dared to meet it. And when you finally did, it was like the world stilled. The cool night air, the sound of your own breath, the faint chirping of crickets in the grass all of it faded beneath the sharp, unspoken tension strung between you.
His expression was softer than you'd ever seen it, his lips parted like he wanted to speak but couldn't. And when he leaned the slightest bit closer, your heart leapt traitorously in your chest.
For one reckless, terrifying second, you thought he was going to kiss you. And worse you thought you might let him.
But then the weight of it snapped all at once, reality slamming in with the force of a tidal wave. Your eyes widened, and his did too, like you'd both woken from the same dangerous dream at the exact same time.
You cleared your throat, heat rushing to your cheeks as you tore your gaze away. "Well—uh. I should… probably be heading back. To our room." You tripped over the last word, cursing yourself as you said it. "You can, um… keep walking. Or whatever."
Kuroo blinked, visibly thrown, then dragged a hand through his hair in a poor attempt to look casual. "Right. Yeah. Walking. Sure."
Silence again. Awkward this time. Unbearably awkward.
You gave him a stiff nod and started back toward the dorms, pulse racing like you'd just sprinted the length of the court. You didn't dare look back, too afraid of what you'd see in his face, regret, embarrassment, or worse, the same longing you felt yourself.
And yet… you could still feel his eyes on you. Like maybe, just maybe, you weren't the only one who wished you hadn't stopped.
You didn't give yourself the chance to find out. The second the dorm came into view, you broke into a jog, then a flat-out sprint, as if the faster you moved, the quicker you could outrun the memory searing itself into your brain.
By the time you shoved open the door to your room, your chest was heaving not just from the run, but from the mess of emotions still rattling inside you. You threw yourself onto the bed, face-first into the pillow, muffling a groan.
Your mind betrayed you instantly.
His expression. The way he'd leaned closer. The silence that had felt so… dangerous.
You kicked your legs against the sheets in frustration, rolling onto your back and covering your face with your hands. "Why—why did I do that? Why didn't I say something? Why didn't he say something?" you whispered to the ceiling, as if it held answers.
But the worst part wasn't that you'd almost let him kiss you.
It was that you wanted him to.
You sat up abruptly, hair a wild mess, staring at the space beside you the very same bed you'd have to share with him tonight. The same bed where, not twenty minutes ago, you'd nearly lost your head over him.
"Oh no," you muttered, clutching your pillow like a life raft. "This is a disaster. An actual disaster." The door creaked. Panic jolted through you like electricity. You dove back under the covers, yanking them up to your chin just as you heard his familiar voice in the hall.
Two months. Two months of this.
Two months of the same room. The same bed.
Two months of pretending like nothing had happened.
Your face burned so hot you were certain he'd notice the second he walked in. And when the knob turned, when his shadow spilled across the floor, your heart jumped to your throat. Because no matter how much you told yourself to stay calm, to act normal one thought looped endlessly in your mind.
How the hell am I supposed to sleep beside him now?