Nothing Without You

Manager vs Coach

Feeling utterly exhausted, I begrudgingly dragged myself out of bed on a dreary Saturday morning. Today marked the beginning of yet another one of my brother's tedious volleyball tournaments, and as his dutiful manager, I knew I had no choice but to accompany him.

Summoning what little energy I had left, I trudged into the bathroom, the warm steam from the shower offering a fleeting moment of comfort amidst the chaos of the day ahead. As the water cascaded over me, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to momentarily escape, the soothing sensation of the warm droplets washing away the weariness that had settled deep within my bones.

Emerging from the shower feeling marginally more human, I set about the arduous task of getting ready for the day ahead. With each passing minute, the weight of exhaustion seemed to grow heavier, threatening to crush me under its relentless pressure. But I refused to let it defeat me.

Turning to my trusty playlist, I allowed the familiar strains of music to envelop me, their melodic rhythms providing a much-needed source of solace in the midst of the chaos. As the music filled the room, I felt a flicker of determination ignite within me, a reminder that no matter how tired I may be, I had a job to do.

With renewed resolve, I finished getting ready, steeling myself for the day ahead. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on my shoulders, I knew that I couldn't let it hold me back. There was a tournament to attend, and as much as I dreaded it, I was determined to face it head-on.

As I finished my shower, I wrapped myself in a plush bathrobe, allowing my damp hair to air dry as I went about my morning routine. The tranquility of the moment was abruptly shattered by my mother's sudden announcement that I had a visitor. I furrowed my brow in confusion – who could possibly be calling at such an ungodly hour?

Attempting to buy myself a moment's reprieve, I called out to my mother, asking the visitor to wait. But instead of heeding my request, she unleashed a sudden, ear-splitting scream that sent me jumping in surprise.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," I muttered, resigned to the fact that my peace and quiet had been shattered. With my robe still draped around me and my hair dripping wet, I made my way downstairs to see who could possibly be calling at this hour.

And there, standing by the door with his trademark messy hair and a slightly disheveled appearance, was Kuroo. The sight of him caught me off guard – why on earth was he here, and at this early hour no less?

As I stood there, my robe still clinging to my damp skin, my father's voice cut through the awkward silence. "Oh yeah, you're Kuroo," he remarked, gesturing towards an old photograph of the two of us. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment at the sight of the picture, a relic from our childhood that I had hoped would remain buried in the past.

Suppressing an eye-roll, I turned to Kuroo, silently pleading with him to ignore the embarrassing display. Without a word, I reached out and took his hand, leading him away from the prying eyes of my family and up to my room.

As we made our way upstairs, I could hear the faint sound of my mother's laughter echoing behind us. Blushing furiously, I couldn't help but cringe at the thought of her finding amusement in our awkward encounter.

Turning to face Kuroo, I couldn't help but feel a rush of relief at the sight of his familiar smile. "So, what brings you here?" I asked, gesturing for him to take a seat on the chair across from my bed.

As he settled into the chair, his gaze met mine with a warmth that never failed to put me at ease. "I just wanted to check up on you," he said, his words laced with genuine concern.