gravity | r. suna ✓

nine

- Tuesday, 9:17am -

Today is the day of the boys vs girls match, and I can't focus.

My head is bursting with thoughts of the upcoming Spring Interhigh, the volleyball match we have today, and the assignments for English and Science that are due soon. My inability to focus is a good and bad thing. It's good, because if I'm too busy thinking about everything I have to do, I don't have time to think about the embarrassment of Saturday and Thursday at midnight and what happened when I was walking home that other day. It's bad because I can't focus on my assignments and I'm terrified of failure.

In English, my first class, I try to write as best I can but I end up with one badly written paragraph and doodles all over the rest of my paper. In math, it's just as bad, and in science, it's even worse. As time ticks closer and closer to the match, the butterflies in my abdomen multiply and I feel slightly sick.

When lunchtime rolls around, my throat feels dry and I'm sweating. I don't know why a boys vs girls game is so stressful for me, but I'm feeling very under pressure.

Suna is at our usual table in the library, reading a book. When he sees me making my way over, he puts it down on the desk. He wants to talk about the match, I guess.

"Listen, Aya," he says, as I take my seat and pull out my lunch, "no matter the outcome of this game, let's stay positive, okay?" He smiles at me with his eyes closed, and it becomes apparent that this was a tease.

I twist my face into a forced smile. "Yes, yes, I agree. We don't want you running home sobbing, do we?"

He raises his eyebrows at me, his face back to its normal blank state. "Luckily for the both of us, that will never happen."

"Oh, I'm not so sure!" I laugh, taking a bite of my cupcake. "It might sneak up on you, Suna Rintarou."

He chuckles and takes a strawberry from my lunchbox, biting into it. "Juicy," he says.

It strikes me that when we first talked, he said that he tries to avoid talking, but now, he's the first to strike up a conversation. "You've changed a lot, haven't you?"

He pauses his chewing, processing what I just said. "How do you mean?"

"I mean, when we first talked... I don't know. Never mind." I don't want to give him the pleasure of knowing that I've analyzed him a lot.

"You've caught my interest now. What do you mean?" He presses me for more.

I sigh, giving in. "I just mean that when we first talked, you avoided using words, but now you seem to use them quite a bit."

He smirks. "Ayano-chan, have you been thinking about it a lot? Has it been on your mind?" He laughs and leans back in his chair, his arms behind his head.

"Not really," I shoot back at him, hoping to crush his ego, but once he's started teasing, he can't seem to stop.

"Look at you, getting all defensive. Oh, I've been on your mind," he jokes, clearly savoring this moment.

I wish I never spoke.

When he sees my face, my expression of what I hope to represent disgust, he rolls his eyes.

"Anyway, the game. Does your team have a strategy?" he changes the topic.

"You mean for your jelly arms that can twist in any direction around the block?"

He stares at me, his eyes cold. "Did you just say... jelly... arms..." he pretends to be hurt. "Don't ever repeat that."

"No, I think I will," I smirk, tilting my head to the left. "Jelly arms, jelly arms, jelly arms. This is the birth of your nickname."