The next morning, practice had already left your muscles aching, sweat dripping down your temple as you caught your breath. Kuroo was hovering nearby, throwing his usual smirks and playful comments your way except they landed differently now. Too close. Too sharp. Too… loaded after last night.
You hadn't figured out how to face him yet. Not after the way his arms had wrapped around you. The way his voice had dipped low, warm against your ear. The way he'd almost kissed you. And maybe that's why you didn't notice the shadow falling over you until a familiar voice cut in.
"Well, if it isn't the rising star of the camp," Oikawa drawled, his grin annoyingly bright as he leaned against the bench. "You really were impressive out there, Y/n-chan."
You blinked, caught off guard. "Oikawa-san?"
He winked. "Please, just Oikawa. No need for formalities, we're practically teammates here, aren't we?" His gaze flicked briefly to Kuroo, like he knew exactly what he was doing, before returning to you. "Besides, I couldn't help but notice you make volleyball look beautiful."
You felt your face heat, unsure if it was from exhaustion or his words. But before you could even form a reply, you noticed the shift beside you. Kuroo had stilled, his smirk gone, his jaw tight. "Oh?" His voice cut in, low and sharp. "Didn't think you were the type to hand out compliments so easily, Oikawa."
Oikawa just laughed, brushing him off. "Only when they're deserved." He leaned closer to you, lowering his voice just enough for Kuroo to hear. "What do you say we grab a coffee this evening, Y/n-chan? Just you and me."
Your breath caught. A date? The word never left his lips, but it hung there, obvious. You hesitated for only a moment before smiling politely. "Sure. I don't see the harm in a cafe."
The reaction was immediate. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kuroo stiffen. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and though his tone stayed deceptively light when he finally spoke, his eyes were dark, stormy. "A date, huh?" His smirk returned, but it didn't reach his eyes this time. "Guess you've got a busy schedule, Y/n. Hope you don't forget who you're supposed to be practicing with."
The air between the three of you crackled again sharp and unbearable. And though you told yourself it was harmless, just coffee… some part of you couldn't ignore the way Kuroo looked at you. Like he'd just lost something he wasn't even supposed to want. You shifted under his stare, gripping your water bottle tighter than necessary. "It's just coffee, Kuroo. Relax."
"Relax?" he echoed, voice too smooth to be casual, though his eyes burned. "Right. Just coffee." His lips quivered, but the smirk was brittle this time, fragile at the edges. "With Oikawa. Of all people."
"Don't be jealous, Kuroo," Oikawa chimed, all grin and zero shame. He patted Kuroo on the shoulder as if he were humoring a sulking child. "Besides, I'm just appreciating talent where it shines. Not my fault Y/n here is charming on and off the court."
Kuroo's eyes narrowed. "Careful, Oikawa. Some people might call that crossing a line."
"And some people," Oikawa shot back, unbothered, "might call that a compliment." You couldn't breathe. Two captains, both of them standing too close, their words carrying sharper edges than the smiles on their faces.
Finally, you stood, cutting through the tension before it suffocated you. "I should… get changed. Practice is over, anyway."
You moved to walk past them, but Kuroo fell into step beside you without a word. The silence stretched, heavy, as the two of you made your way down the hall. You could feel him simmering beside you, every step taut with something unspoken.
Finally, you risked a glance. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed ahead, but his hand flexed restlessly at his side like he needed somewhere to put the frustration boiling inside him.
"You don't have to walk me back," you said softly.
"Yeah, I do." His voice came rough, low, and it startled you with how raw it sounded. He glanced at you then, just for a second, before his gaze darted away. "I just—" He cut himself off, exhaling hard. "It's not just coffee, Y/n. Not when it's with him."
Your heart skipped. "Why? What difference does it make?"
That finally made him stop. He turned, looking at you like the words were dragging themselves out of him whether he wanted them to or not. His smirk was nowhere to be found only the storm that had been brewing since Oikawa showed up.
"Because I don't like it," he admitted, voice low, almost a growl. "I don't like him looking at you. I don't like you saying yes. And I sure as hell don't like that I can't do anything about it."
The hallway fell silent, his confession hanging between you like an electric current. And before you could stop yourself, your breath hitched because you couldn't tell if the flutter in your chest was from guilt… or something far more dangerous. "Kuroo…" You said his name like it might steady him, steady you but it only seemed to dig deeper.
His eyes searched yours, sharp and restless, like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn't want the answer to. Then his hand twitched at his side, like he almost reached for you but forced it back down.
"You don't get it, do you?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His laugh came out humorless, bitter. "I've been watching him circle you since the second he showed up. Like it's his right to look at you like that. And then you say yes just like that. Like it doesn't mean anything."
Your throat went dry. "Because it doesn't." He looked at you then, really looked, and the silence between you burned hotter than his words. "Then why does it feel like it does?"
You froze, every muscle in your body stiff. The air was too thick, your pulse too loud. And you hated how much sense his words made, how much your heart answered even if your mouth refused to.
"Kuroo…" you whispered again, but your voice cracked under the weight of it.
He stepped closer, not enough to touch, but enough that his presence pressed down on you. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, to the way you clutched your water bottle like it was armor before flicking back up.
"Tell me you don't care," he said, low and rough. "Tell me it's just coffee, Y/n. That him asking you out didn't get under your skin at all." You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Because you could lie easily, the words were right there but your chest betrayed you again, tightening until the truth threatened to spill.
The silence was its own confession.
His jaw clenched, like he both hated and reveled in your quiet. He exhaled slowly, leaning back the smallest bit, though his eyes still lingered, still burned.
"Yeah," he said finally, voice softer now, almost tired. "That's what I thought."
Your heart thudded, heavy and unsteady. You wanted to speak, to deny, to say something anything that would unravel the tension strangling the air. But instead, all you managed was a weak:
"I should get ready."
You moved past him, your pulse still racing, but the heat of his stare followed you every step back to your shared room. And when you finally slipped inside, shutting the door behind you, you weren't sure what scared you more: Oikawa's smile when he asked you out… or the way Kuroo's jealousy had almost made you wish you'd said no.
You pressed your back against the door, heart pounding so hard you swore he'd hear it if he were still standing outside. But the room was quiet, only the faint hum of the evening air and the steady rhythm of your own uneven breaths. Two months in the same room. Two months of trying to survive practice, rivalry, and… this. Whatever this was.
You shook the thought off and moved to your bag, rifling through it until your hands found a clean shirt, a pair of jeans, something simple, not too much. It wasn't really a date, you told yourself. Just coffee. Just Oikawa being Oikawa. Nothing worth getting flustered over.
Except your reflection in the small mirror said otherwise. Your cheeks were warm, your lips pressed too tightly together, and the second you tugged your shirt into place, you realized you were fussing. Adjusting. As if it mattered.
The door clicked again.
Kuroo…
You head footsteps walk towards you then his hands slid around your waist. Your breath caught, eyes snapping wide as his chin nearly touched your shoulder. His hold wasn't rough, wasn't forceful it was almost… desperate.
"Don't go," he murmured, low enough that it vibrated through you. "Stay."
The word hit harder than it should have, sinking past your ribs. For a split second, you almost listened. Almost let yourself lean back, let yourself believe that what he wanted was reason enough. But you couldn't stand Oikawa up…
"Kuroo…" you whispered, trying to steady your voice. "I can't." You peeled his arms away, gentle but firm, forcing space between you even as your chest ached. His fingers lingered for a second, reluctant, before slipping free.
You didn't give yourself time to look at him, not at the frustration in his eyes, not at the way his jaw clenched like he wanted to argue but couldn't. You just grabbed your bag, pushed past the heaviness of the room, and walked out the door before you could change your mind. And for the rest of the hallway walk, all you could feel was the phantom weight of his hands on your waist like they belonged there.