𝚂𝚞𝚐𝚊𝚛 | 𝚔. 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚊

- Volleyball -

Suga pauses and I drop the keys into his open palms. "Let's go."

-

We shuffle to the car, drifting into soothing tunes that coax away stress. I wind my hands together and lean my head against the window. The world blurs by, a hemisphere of greys and hazy street signs. It's easy to forget that millions of worlds exist outside of your own, each one different, each one lived by different people with different trials. I pull my fingers apart, running a finger along the smooth leather of the door's edge. My mind wanders.

Red lights and intersections cruise by, drained by a summer world. I smile to myself, propping my head against the window with my arm. It's peaceful. I don't look anywhere in particular, watching the world pass by.

The music blends into the background, the lyrics muted as I drift. My eyes flutter out of focus. The car is comfortably warm, sweet sound curling around my mind like a blanket fresh from the dryer. My eyes close, a familiar heat twisted in my senses.

We stop once, twice, before we reach the school. A gentle tap on my shoulder rouses me from my dreamlike state. I unbuckle my seatbelt, releasing a sigh.

"Here already?" I murmur, exiting Suga's vehicle. I cross over to his side of the car, linking my arm in his, leaning against his shoulder.

He nods. We traverse an empty sidewalk, the hues of evening creeping over the edge of the gym. Before Sugawara and I enter, I give his sleeve a gentle tug. He faces me and I place a kiss on his cheek, lingering with a sense of finality.

I pull away, lips slightly parted. "I love you, Sugar."

"I love you too, ma chérie."

We enter, greeted by the sound of squeaking sneakers and volleyballs striking the floor. The team has already begun practice. Several huddle around the bench, holding lighthearted conversation. A few of them adorn red jackets. I recognize Kenma, a boy who'd been keeping in touch with one of the first years of our team. He's short with dirty blonde hair. It's been dyed, the roots growing back in a dark shade. It suits him.

Beside him is Kuroo and Hinata, along with Nishinoya and his girlfriend. I shoot them a wave, catching their attention. Hinata beams and returns the gesture, but Kenma studies the atoms of the gym floor.

Sugawara curves off from me, presumably to change and warmup. I slide into the cluster of people, finding my hands in my pockets. I'm flustered by the new arrivals.

"I'm Kuroo, nice to meet you." A tall raven-haired male offers a hand, and I shake it, nodding.

"I'm y/n." I smile fondly. "It's nice to finally meet you too."

I shake hands with Kenma, who's hands are clammy, and manage to get him to stutter out a greeting. He reminds me of a feline.

I greet Nishinoya's girlfriend, Nicole, with a hug, wrapping my arms over her shoulders. We each squeeze out a bubbled greeting before separating. We'd been friends even before she started dating Noya. We met in junior high, creating an instant bond over our shared love of nature and volleyball. I scootch over to stand beside her in the circle.

"How's thunder boy treating you?" I smirk, nudging her shoulder.

She flushes in embarrassment. "G-Great, actually."

"Really? Do tell." My eyebrows raise.

"He's so sweet, always bringing me gifts and always willing to call." Nicole explains, breathy. "Although sometimes the hugs catch me by surprise."

"My hugs are great!" Noya interjects, furrowing his brow. Someone's been eavesdropping.

"I-I never said they weren't, Yuu." Nicole stutters, shooting me an apologetic glance.

Noya and Nicole are about the same height, although the provided height of Nishinoya's hair makes him look taller. I share a smile with myself and cross my arms over my chest. They bicker for awhile before Noya storms off, presumably to receive a few volleyballs before the practice game.

Nicole and I stand beside the bench, resuming our conversation. I explain how Sugawara and I are engaged and her expression floods with shock; however, it quickly morphs into a grin as she rushes into a tight embrace.

"Congratulations!"

The whistle blows after around fifteen minutes and we make our way upstairs, settling in the upper outlook area. A railing surrounds the outskirts of the region and overlooks the gymnasium. Unfortunately, we can't stay by the bench because only the coach, Ukai, and assistant, Kiyoko, can sit there during a practice game.

I rest my elbows on the railing, leaning over the edge. Sugawara, the second years, and a green haired first year stand off to the side, while three first years and the rest of the team dominate their side of the net. Nekoma stands on the opposite side, lined along the edge of the court. The game is six versus six, each adorned in practice game attire. Karasuno wears yellow and Nekoma wears blue.

The game proceeds as normal, each side scoring at an even pace. Nekoma wins the first set and Karasuno wins the second. I cling to the railing, unable to peel my eyes away from the court scene. The zero quick, a move the angry and tangerine-haired first years created, is breathtaking in person. One second, the ball is in Kageyama's hands, the next, it's on the opposite court as Hinata spikes it down. Nicole shares my excitement, clinging to my shoulders as we trade grins and gasps.

Halfway through the third set, Nekoma has shut down the quick. Their blockers, intelligent and quick, read Kageyama's sets like the back of their hands. They shoot up at the same speed as Hinata and slam the ball down on Karasuno's court. Before, they occasionally blocked the ball, but now the blockers radiate confidence. They leap, arms outstretched, and slam the volleyball away. My grip on the railing tightens.

The score is neck and neck, 21-22. Nekoma clings to the lead; however, their setter looks exhausted. Kenma has been playing for the entirety of the game, running and setting volleyballs like his life depends on it. I watched several of his games and hadn't seen energy radiate from him like this until today. Something inside him lights ablaze when he plays against Karasuno. I wonder if it has anything to do with Hinata, the orange-haired first year.

Nekoma scores another point and the benched players trade a gasp. I grind my teeth together. The temperature of the room has risen, the shared air of the room mingled with body heat and sharp breaths. I take a shuddering breath of my own. The serve goes up, soaring over the court. Nishinoya receives it, bending his knees as the ball flies upward.

"Nice receive!" The sideline yells, their hands clenched at their sides. The ball is propelled into Kageyama's grasp, who sends it to the right side of the net.

The slam of the ball is accompanied by yelling, an angered release of air. It slams to the other side of the court, marking Nekoma's break in scoring.

"Nice kill, Tanaka!" I shout, pressing myself to the railing. The boy who scored turns to me, raising his fists to the air. His teammates slap his back congratulatorily before returning to their places. Their focused intensity is akin to a smoldering bonfire.

The game progresses at snails' pace, the interval between scores strained and lengthy. Nekoma scores once, landing at break point. The tension in the air is palpable.

"Do you think we'll win this one?" Nicole comments, nudging my shoulder. The score is 22-24. The chances of Karasuno snagging the set are low.

I rub my eyes, releasing a shaky breath. "I don't know."

The volleyball soars from end to end of the court with fierce intensity, each side determined to never let the ball drop. Nishinoya fumbles a receive. Kenma's sets have grown weaker, both accuracy and strength diminished. I notice the slouch in the players postures, the growing beads of sweat, the fire in their eyes.

Karasuno doesn't let the ball drop, slamming a point down on Nekoma's court. The blockers were too slow, unable to prevent the quick they had grasp over before. The players share a short celebration, a 'nice kill!', and return to the grind.

The ball flies back into the air, a desperate jump serve. I take note of minute movements, an equally determined receive, how the ball flies perfectly to Kenma's outstretched arms.

Nekoma scores.