Yawning, you get dressed for your first day of work. It's been a long month. Press conferences, writing, graduation--too much for your liking. Just a week ago, you flew into Japan, finally home after five years. It's been far too long. The apartment you bought is small, though nice enough, you suppose. It's home now.
Ready, you walk out of the door, deciding to skip breakfast. You'll probably just eat dinner. That's what you usually do. As you walk, you wonder what your new job holds for you. It's a simple business, though that's not what you really wanted. You wanted to write. Which, you do. Just not full-time. It's a little side-job.
Five years ago, your parents sent you abroad, wanting you to study in that field all the way in America. But that's not what you wanted. They enrolled you, booked your flight, and figured out your living expenses without you knowing, then sent you away. After that, you cut contact with them altogether. Of course, you took the schooling, though bitterly.
On that day, your phone blew up with hundreds of messages, asking where you were and why you weren't at school. If you were okay, if you were mad, if something was wrong. And it was all from the same person.
Your boyfriend at the time.
Remembering that, you take a deep breath. He was your entire world. The only thing that mattered. The person that you just simply couldn't live without. But, shamefully, you hurt him.
You never replied to him for three reason. One, you felt that you had no right to keep talking to him after that. You just left with no warning, though you didn't even deserve him to begin with. He should've had the most beautiful, talented, and smartest girl ever, not you. So it wasn't right to put him in a long-distance relationship with a girl he deserved better than. Two, you couldn't really afford out-of-country communication. And three, you were afraid. You were afraid to be the person that got dumped and let down.
So, you live in a way that you can't stand. It's without the one you fell in love with--and the sad part is, you never fell out of love either.
These days, you're famous as a rising author. Most people have heard of you, even the old ones. You just appeal to everyone, as crazy as that is. You've worked hard for this. And what's funny is that you were just a college student in need of some pocket money with an unrealistic dream.
The boy from back then is famous, too. A professional volleyball player. His team is very popular, and he's the captain. Almost everyone has at least heard his name once, and even from another country, you caught trail of it. The moment you heard what team he was on, you looked them up.
After that, you pretty much stalked him on the internet. You checked his Instagram account every day, hoping for updates. You've been keeping up with any news pertaining to him. Currently, you know just about everything.
As much as you want to see him, and have even thought about it, you've also decided against it. It'd be wrong. You up and left him, no contact. Not a single word since. You couldn't ever just come stumbling back. It's pathetic, and he deserves better. So, so much better.
The moment you're inside of your office, you find your new boss, sitting on the desk with a few papers in his hands.
"There she is," he says, sipping on his coffee. "I got a job for you."
"Yes?"
"You will be meeting with a volleyball team that we're gonna start sponsoring. The big, big boss will be going, too. He's already taken a liking to you, y'know? Says that it's cool having a famous employee. His office is on the top floor, go straight down the hall all the way to the back. Have fun." He walks out, so you sigh a bit. Great. A volleyball team. Just like him.
You start walking toward where you were instructed. Once you're inside, you find an older man, reading a book. Upon closer inspection, you see that it's one of your own. That's a bit surprising.
Then, you remember to bow. Being away for so long, you'd forgotten that habit. Now that you're back, it's a bit of a struggle.
"You hesitated," says the man.
"Sorry. I've been away for so long. I'm still trying to get back into the habit."
"Of course," he stands up, then bows. "I'm a fan of yours, Ms. L/n."
Still bowing, you reply, "Thank you. I'm flattered to hear that you enjoy my little writings."
You both stand straight again, looking each other in the eye.
"You'll have to forgive me," he starts, sitting back down. "For needing you on the very first day. And please, sit."
You ease into the chair on the other side of his desk. "It's not a problem. Which team will I be meeting?"
"You won't be meeting the full team. And, besides, I'd like to leave it a surprise. He's such a big name that anyone who knows anything about volleyball knows him."
You smile. "I've always loved volleyball. Since I was a high schooler."
"Yes, I remember you mentioning that in an interview. Something about an old high school sweetheart having been a player. That's actually one of the reasons I wanted you for this specifically."
"I appreciate the thought, Sir." You lean forward in a lazy, but effective bow. "I'm up to date with all current Japanese professionals, so I should recognize him immediately."
"That's wonderful. Introductions can be quite a drag."
"Aren't they? I've had to go to so many parties, and I get dragged around, meeting random people. It's exhausting. Especially when you don't even remember their names."
He laughs. "Yes, that's rather irritating. It seems that you're a sensible girl."
This puts a smile onto your face. "I appreciate that, Sir. When is our meeting scheduled?"
"We'll be leaving in about an hour. Now," he pulls out a stack of books. "Could you sign these?"
You giggle into your hand a bit. "Gladly."
You sign the several books. He owns ever novel, short story, and poem that you've ever written. It's quite impressive. You hadn't realized how popular or good your writing is.
"I never realized that people liked them this much," you mutter under your breath, believing he hadn't heard you.
"They're good stories," he says. "They're innocent, though sweet. But, at the same time, there's action. My favorite, though, is your first. The one about a volleyball player."
Your hand stops, and your smile fades. "Yeah. That one."
You wrote it back in high school. Before that, you'd never seriously written a full story in your life. You wanted to, you had ideas, you just didn't have the courage.
That is, until he came into your life.
It'd been freshman year, and it was still early in the semester. A tall boy with messy hair and yellow eyes came up to you, holding a single red rose in his hands, looking nervous with an awkward smile.
"I'm just hypothesizing, but I think the reaction between you and I would be quite exothermic. Care to plot some data points?"
He was an attractive guy. Smart and athletic. On the volleyball team, with a lot of muscle. His pickup line had you giggling, which seemed to calm him. She shoulders eased down and he released a gentle sigh.
"I, uh- I have a minor crush on you. Care to... go out sometime?"
A smile had fallen onto your lips, a little too happy to be liked. Especially by someone who looked like him. In all honesty, you'd seen him before. Actually, you shared a couple classes. And, you had to admit, you had a teeny, tiny crush on him, yourself.
"I'd love to. Here, take my number."
It was slow, you went out a few times, slowly getting to know him. On the fifth date, it became official. In between dates, you'd spend lunch at school together and he'd walk you to all of your classes, whether you shared it or not. It wasn't long before you knew just about everything about each other.
After maybe a couple weeks of dating, he'd already been hyping you up, saying that you should definitely write a novel if you want to. He said that you could definitely do it, and if you did, it'd be wonderful just because the author was so smart and beautiful.
He was your inspiration. Your muse. Your personal cheerleader. He was everything you needed. So, you based your first novel off of him. The main character was a middle blocker on his volleyball team who looked and acted just like him. As he read the chapters, he'd smile, and you knew that he knew you loved him.
You'd cuddle on his couch late at night, reading and editing your novel. Giggles all around, as he'd tease you over how familiar the character felt. It always put a blush on your face, which always resulted in you two sharing several, passionate kisses, forgetting the story entirely.
You'd been so happy back then. Back then. Not anymore. The moment he left your life, all color was sucked away, leaving you in nothing but monochromatic life. After his messaged and calls stopped, the pain went away, leaving you with a type of numbness. Since then, you can't really say that you've felt any sadness, nor any happiness. No peace, no chaos. Just nothing. Your heart and mind were empty.
The only thing saving you from insanity was writing. It's what got you up in the morning. It's what made you almost look forward to waking up. It's what put you to sleep. It became everything. It's all you have left now. Now that he is gone.
"Are you okay?" asks your boss.
Shaking your head, you look up. "I'm fine. I just... I remembered something."
"Is it something bad?" He seems genuinely concerned.
"It's nothing bad. The book is about someone I sometimes miss."
"Your high school sweetheart?"
Hesitantly, you nod. "Yeah. I wrote it while we were going out. The main character is actually based off of him."
"He must've been a good boy, then."
"He was."
You go back to signing, silent now. Remembering him always does that to you. You can never find anything to say. No motivation. Nothing. It drains all of the "human" out of you, and you turn into a type of machine.
-
Your eyes get huge, seeing the side profile of something you never thought you'd see again. Immediately, you hide behind a corner, breaths heavy as you feel something clench your heart tightly. It feels like someone is squeezing your chest, and there's a loud voice in your head, saying "Run."
You almost throw up, but hold it in. Nausea and pain overtake you, and you slump onto the floor. You draw your knees up to your chest, rocking back and forth. It's back. The pain. Feeling. Tears build up in your eyes, his figure engraved into your mind, never fading. Seeing him for a mere second is enough to drive you mad.
Your phone starts to buzz, so you pick it up, slowing your breaths down. "H- hello?" Your already know it's your boss on the other end. He probably wants to know where you ran off to.
"Where are you?"
You clear your throat a bit. "I hate to do this so suddenly, but I feel sick. C- c- can I just go home?"
"I'm sorry, but you can't just walk out on a job last minute. Especially on your first day. You'll have to deal with it."
"O- okay. Just... give me two minutes. I need t- to clean myself up."
"Alright. But, please, be quick."
You wipe the tears away, stand up, and brush yourself off. You smooth down your hair, taking deep, long breaths as slowly as you can, calming your heart down. Finally, you walk towards the designated room, keeping your head down. Maybe if I don't show my face, he won't get the chance to recognize me.
You walk inside, bow, and sit down, never lifting your head. Your boss pats your back, seeming slightly worried.
"This," you hear him say. "Is another famous person. She's Japanese, though studied abroad in the US. Y/n L/n. Have you heard of her?"
Your heart drops. There's no way he won't recognize you now. It's totally ruined. Great.
"Yeah," replies the man you still love to death. "I've heard of her."
You lift your head, meeting those beautiful eyes. Upon further inspection, you see that they're more than beautiful. How'd you grow to be so sexy?
Forcing a smile on your face, you say weakly, "It's a pleasure to see you today, Kuroo-Kun. I didn't know I'd be meeting someone so famous. Mr. Takahashi told me that the person we were meeting was popular, but I had no idea."
"I didn't expect to see you, either."
His voice sounds slightly spangled, and a wave of guilt consumes you. If you had known, you'd never have taken this job at all. Seeing him is the worse thing you could do. You just up and left him. You've no right to come stumbling back after all that. It's an awful thing to do, really.
"Well," you say. "Here I am."
"It's because of her," says Takahashi. "That I'm such a fan of volleyball, and why you're my favorite player."
Kuroo smiles at him, though it seems strained. "Really? How so?"
"Her first story! The player described is just like you! And that's my favorite book she's ever written."
Face falling into an emotionless stare, he replies with, "That's because he was based off of me."
Your face erupts into a blush as the elder man's jaw drops.
"She said it was about her high school sweetheart."
Fixing his tie, he says, "Well, I'd say that I was. We started dating in freshman year up until senior year. It's because of me that she wrote it. I remember reading it with her on my couch, editing and such."
You clear your throat. "That was a long time ago. I thought you'd have forgotten by now."
"Forgotten? What did you take it for? Some type of game? A joke?"
"No, but it's not worth remembering. It's not like I was an actually good girlfriend. If anything, I was decent, I guess."
His jaw clenches, causing you to bite your lip. He's so freaking sexy these days.
"Wow," he says, messing with the tip of his tie. "I hasn't realized that you were so good at brushing off other people's feelings."
"No," you reply, eyes narrowing. "I just don't get the idea that I'm better than I actually am."
"Let's just forget it." Kuroo clears his throat. "About the sponsorship, my manager is already on board. Honestly, he left it up to me, and I think it's an excellent idea. Let's build a good relationship between my team and your business."
Takahashi gets a bright smile. "Wonderful. I'm hoping Ms. L/n will agree to work as my personal assistant, though that's not what she applied for."
Your eyes get huge as you look at him. "What? Why?"
"I'm your biggest fan. I'd love for you to work closely by my side."
That would mean a lot more money. It could, potentially, make you richer than you ever dreamed. Which would also mean a potential early retirement. And it would also mean seeing Kuroo again.
It hurts so bad, but you want it. The pain is accompanied by a small pleasure of seeing him again. He's so wonderful to you. You love him. It's such a serious and intense emotion that nothing can drown it out. It's to the point where you can't think of anything else. It's so desperate that you're willing to endure the pain.
"I agree," you say quietly. "Thank you."
"No! Thank you!"
-
"You want me to do what?" You blink a couple times.
"I need you to invite Kuroo-Kun to a dinner. Please. I'd call him but I don't really have the time these days. And it seems a lot nicer to do it in person."
You nod, dreading though excited to see him again. "Yes, Sir. I'll be back shortly."
"Not too soon! You two should get along well. You'll be seeing each other often. Just because you're exes doesn't mean that you can't get along."
"It's okay, Sir. I know how to be professional. I'll see you again in a bit."
You grab your bag and start heading to the gym his team owns. He'll probably be there. If not, you might have to find his apartment. But, either way, you'll do your job.
You push open the door to the gym with a bit of a grunt. You'll never know why they're so heavy. The moment you're inside, you hear the familiar sound of balls slamming onto the floor. It brings a bittersweet smile to your face, memories flooding back in. You went to all of his games, cheering him on. He'd always been so talented.
Quietly, you enter, finding the building to be mostly empty. Just two people. You, and Kuroo, as luck would have it. He keeps throwing balls into the air, then spiking them aggressively. You close the door silently, then lean on it, taking a few moments to take in his beauty.
He's so... ethereal.
Sweat drips down his neck and clothes, causing them to cling to his body. His every dip and curve is outlined, his muscle prominent.
You swallow the lump in your throat, holding back the urge to drool a bit. He was hot in high school, but you're certain that he's surpassed that now. What the crap have they been feeding you?
"What are you doing here?" He leans his hands on his knees, panting.
You clear your throat awkwardly. "Mr. Takahashi wants to have dinner with you tomorrow night. He was adamant on you being invited in person, though hasn't had the time to come see you himself."
"No,"
"Why not?"
"I have a funny feeling you'll be there, too." Rolling his eyes, he throws the ball at the wall and catches it, doing this over and over again.
You clench your fists. "Don't let me influence your decisions like that."
"What can I say? Seeing you really pisses me off."
"Oh, yeah. I forgot how petty you were. My bad."
"At least I don't just abandon people without warning."
"You-!" You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. "I'm not trying to insert myself back into your life. This is all business. Nothing more. Just see it as that."
"You really want me to go?"
"Yes, because I was instructed to get you there at all costs."
A small smirk forms on his lips. "At all costs, eh? So that means you'd do anything?"
"Within reason."
He throws the ball at you. "Toss for me. And not just today. Whenever I call you."
"I thought you said you didn't wanna see me."
"What can I say? I'm a masochist and I just love the idea of you being at my ever beck and call. Actually, now that I think about it, do whatever I tell you to. That's my condition."
You roll your eyes. "Fine, whatever. But my aim hasn't improved."
He snorts, "After five years, you couldn't improve your aim?"
"I'm not an athlete. I'm a nerd who spends most of her day in an office, and the rest at a desk with a pen and paper."
"Wow. How exciting. Now start throwing."
You do as told. "I love writing, and you know that."
"Then I'm surprised that you haven't abandoned it yet. It seems that's what you do with the things you love." He spikes the toss.
"Well, it seems that someone just doesn't know how to move on." You give him another toss.
"Move on? I didn't even have any closure." You two keep throwing and spiking.
"I thought that leaving you on 'read' said plenty."
"Y'know, I seriously thought I did something wrong. But then I realized that you're just heartless."
"What can I say? Feelings are so overrated."
"Wish I could just forget mine."
"It's easy. But it's more miserable than anything else."
He stops, getting hit in the shoulder by the ball. "You're miserable? Seriously? You're not the one who got their heart ripped out of their chest."
"You'd be surprised at what you don't know."
He whips his head toward you, eyes red and puffy as a couple tears run down his cheeks. "There's no possible excuse for what you did. Just get out. I'll show up to that stupid dinner or whatever. Just give me the time."
"I'll email it to you."
"Then just least already."
You turn around and start walking out the door, silently sobbing. He hates you. He hates you and you can't do anything about it. Love is such a lie. The movies say that it's beautiful and never dies. They say that nothing can separate two people who are in love. That it's accepting and through it all can be forgiven.
You've never heard such bull crap.
Strangers see you in tears, filling you with a sense of shame. You hate crying. You always have. Back when you and Kuroo were together. You had a habit of crying in the bathroom, hoping that he wouldn't find out. Your bullies were so cruel, and you'd hoped to keep it a secret from him.
That only lasted about a month.
Whenever he saw you even the slightest bit upset, he'd hold you, petting your head and saying that it'd be okay. He was there. But, now, he's so close, but so, so out of reach.
-
The dinner ends up being at a fancy, more upper-class bar. Turns out that your boss likes to drink. It doesn't really bother you. Bar food can be pretty good. Though you probably won't drink, deciding to be the sober one in the group.
Kuroo, on the other hand, downs the drinks like there's no tomorrow.
"Slow down," you say, trying to pry the drink from his hands.
His bloodshot eyes stare you down. "Leggo." His words slur together from the drunkenness. His face is red and he sways back and forth in his chair.
You sigh. "You're already drunk. It's not good for you."
"Abandonment isn't good for me, either." He downs another shot.
Takahashi put the stops on the drinking awhile ago, and actually left. Kuroo just won't leave the bar, though. He's barely even sitting up.
"But you can control this. Come on. I think you need to go home."
"No."
It's been half an hour, and you've finally got him out of the bar. You hold him up with his arm around your shoulders, his entire weight bearing down on you. You're hardly able to keep it up. Once you get him inside of the car you called for, he grabs onto your wrist.
"Don't leave," he shakes his head roughly. "I'm no' le'in' you go again."
"I have to go home."
"My home," He pulls you into the cab, and you land on top of him. It puts a blush on your face. "You're my home."
"Kuroo-Kun."
"You used ta' call me 'Tetsu'. 'Member?"
"Yeah. I remember." You sit up and position yourselves so that you're sitting side-by-side, and he drops his head onto your shoulder.
"And you'd kiss my cheek... say you love me."
"I did."
"You used ta' toss for me all the time."
"And I'd usually miss."
He laughs, grabbing onto your arm tightly. "It was so cute... I loved it."
You giggle a bit. "We had so much fun back then."
"We did... why'd you leave?"
"I had to. Maybe I'll explain it all when you're sober."
"Mh... you're still so soft."
You blush in embarrassment. "Yeah. I haven't really lost weight."
He squishes your stomach, cooing a bit. "Never get skinny. You're perfect like this... so perfect. You're such a beautiful angel... I'd cry if you changed."
"I'm nowhere near perfect."
"You're the definition of it." He rubs your thighs a bit, then goes back to squeezing your arms. "I wish I could marry you. You're the most wonderful person I've ever met. So perfect and beautiful. It was love at first sight. I was so convinced that we were soulmates... I really believed."
"Sh. Let's just... enjoy the car ride." You pet his head, trying to enjoy the little time you have with him.
Once at his apartment, you help him onto his bed, but he doesn't let you leave. He holds onto your wrist, pleading with you to stay. Sighing, you climb into his bed, letting him hold you. It feels nice. After all these years, you've only dreamt of this. You never thought you'd be in his arms again.
-
"What the heck?"
Eyes fluttering open, you wake up to find Kuroo sitting up, shooting glares at you. You also sit to, stretching a bit. "Good morning. How's the hangover?"
"What the heck are you talking about?" He holds his head in his hand, wincing. "I only had a couple drinks."
"Believe what you want, but facts are, you got drunk and forced me to stay with you last night. Seems you're not over me." You give a playful smirk.
Truth is, you know that he probably is, and he was just being random while drunk. There's no possible way that he still wants you. Not after what you did to him. Nobody would. He was never the one at a loss.
"You wish," He squeezes his eyes shut. "Well? How bad was I?"
"Well, you downright pulled me into the car, holding on for dear life. On the ride here, you went on and on about how perfect I am, and that I'm your home and how you'd been certain that we were some type of soulmates. Then, we got here, and you still held on to me, pleading for me to stay. Since there was no escaping, I relented."
"Do you just casually spend the night in drunk men's homes?"
You shrug. "No, but I trusted you enough to know you wouldn't do anything. You were on the verge of passing out the whole car ride. I think the only reason you didn't was because you were scared I'd leave. That's the reason you gave when I asked why you wanted me to stay."
"You could've left after I fell asleep."
"It was past midnight by then. I didn't feel comfortable walking home alone." You look him dead in the eyes. "I can't trust other people the same way that I trust you."
"So it seems you're not a total idiot."
"Anyway, I'll go home now." You stand up, stretching your legs a bit.
"Stay for breakfast." he blurts out.
"Sorry, I don't eat breakfast."
"You still have that old habit of not eating?"
"What can I say? It's a hard one to break."
"We made a deal the other day. You're supposed to do whatever I say. You're not gonna break your promise, are you?"
Staring at the floor, you grumble, "Fine."
"I'll cook. We both know you can burn water."
You snap back, "Water shouldn't be so burnable!"
"Didn't you ever listen when I tutored you in chemistry?"
"Of course, not! I was being tutored by my boyfriend! I didn't give a crap as to what you were saying! I was distracted by your face and voice!!" The last part has you two laughing a bit.
"You should've been focusing! Maybe it would've taught you how to not burn water!"
"Knowledge is no match for clumsiness."
When is the last time you genuinely smiled? You can't remember. It had to have been a long time ago. The two of you stare into each other's eyes, feeling a sense of nervousness inside of you. All night, you stayed up, contemplating on telling him the truth. He deserves to know. You're all too aware of that. But would he really believe you? And if he did, could he forgive you?
He clears his throat. "I'm gonna go start making breakfast. You can... stay in here or in the kitchen. I have a shower here, too."
"I'll probably go home and shower." you reply. "I don't have work today."
"Then go put on some comfortable clothes then come to the gym. You're tossing for me today. Kenma won't do it."
"Kozume-Kun retired from volleyball after high school. He's only ever interested if Hinata-Kun is playing."
"Yes, well he's supposed to be my best friend. Lousy jerk."
"Whatever. I'll toss for you."
You wait in his kitchen, watching him cook. He's improved over the years. Probably had to learn after living alone for so long. You, on the other hand, usually ate either cafeteria food or at a fast food place. You burned whatever you cooked, and even if you weren't using heat, it somehow got ruined. The day you somehow burnt the jelly on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, you banned yourself from the kitchen for good.
From a chair, you ask, "Did I ever tell you about the time I screwed up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"
Not looking up, he replies, "You have not. How'd you manage that?"
"The jelly somehow burnt. I wasn't even near the stove. That's the day I self-banned myself from the kitchen."
He smiles a bit, but then it falls. "How'd you eat?"
"Mostly at the cafeteria in my college, and if not there, I went out. I only eat dinner, anyway. Plus I only went to lousy fast food restaurants."
"How the heck did you survive on your own over there?" He looks up at you, eyes worried.
"Can't really say I did. I was pretty much dead on the inside."
"You're such an idiot."
"I am."
"Here's your food." He hands it over to you, putting a smile on your face.
"Thank you, Chef. You have my eternal gratitude."
"Yeah, yeah. Eat up."
You fall silent, remembering the first time he cooked for you. It was a Saturday night, and you two agreed on a movie date at his place. In the middle of probably the second, you both fell asleep. That was also the first time you ever stayed the night at his house. It was towards the beginning of senior year.
In the morning, he was the first to wake up, and went off to make breakfast. You'd only awoken from the smell of food. Back then, you didn't really eat breakfast, but it smelled good. A few moments after your eyes had opened, he came into the living room, wearing a ruffled apron.
"Good morning, sunshine." he cooed as he sat at the end of the couch.
You'd merely grunted at him, burying your face into a pillow.
"I made breakfast~"
You shook your head, still not feeling truly hungry.
"Come on. It's 11:00 in the morning. You need to get up and eat."
"I don't eat breakfast."
"Whaddya mean you don't eat breakfast? It's the most important meal of the day!!"
"Mh!"
"Please? For me?"
He always made you weak, so you relented and ate. He was surprisingly good, and the only time you'd eat breakfast was if he made it for you.
After you eat, you go home and take a shower. Despite not drinking, you still smell like alcohol. It's repulsive.
Stepping out, you put on a T-shirt and head into your room, needing to pick out clothes. Looking in your closet, you bite your lip. You want to look nice, but not like you tried. This is so difficult!!
Finally, you settle on a nice, comfortable T-shirt, a matching flannel, a pencil skirt, and high-tops. After fixing your hair in the way you like, you grab your phone, wallet, keys, and lip balm.
Once you enter his gym, you find him looking rather nice, himself. It makes you smile a bit. He looks too good for this world.
"I'm here," you say, grabbing a ball.
"Took you long enough." He looks at you, gaze intense as his eyes study you up and down. "S- start tossing."
The stutter surprises you a bit, though you brush it off and throw the ball. "Where's the rest of your team?"
"They've been off with their girlfriends. They like to rub it in my face that I'm the only single guy on the team."
"Have you even dated since I left?"
"No. Have you?"
"Of course, not. Have you seen American guys? They're awful, I tell you."
He laughs a bit. "None of them compared to me, huh?"
"How could they? They were all basketball or football players. I'd be betraying my original cause if I dated any of them. And you know me. I like my athletes."
"The volleyball industry appreciates your support."
"Well? Why haven't you dated?"
"Nobody to go out with. They're all shallow. Want fame and money. I don't have time for that."
"I'm sorry."
"No, you're not. You don't have a heart to be sorry with."
After that, you fall silent, throwing his tosses without a single word. He doesn't speak, either, leaving the two of you to be awkward. You can tell that he's tired and has a major headache, but choose not to say anything. He probably doesn't even want to hear it.
Watching him toss brings back memories. You used to always toss for him, though the ball usually ended up in the totally wrong direction. Your first kiss was when you were tossing for him.
The ball had somehow ended up hitting a window and putting a crack in it, leaving the two of you to start laughing uncontrollably. He walked over to you and started tickling your sides, teasing you for your awful aim.
"S- stop! I- I can't-" Your laughs echoed throughout the gym, and Kuroo just kept messing with you.
"How did you even manage to hit the window? It was behind you."
"I'm sorry! Just stop!!"
"Mh... on one condition." He held his hands on your squishy waist, giving you a bit of a squeeze.
You started to blush, and stuttered out, "W- what?"
Then, he leaned down, placing his lips square on yours. It had been such a shock, but you eased into it quickly. You brought your hands up, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing your fingers into his hair. It was sweet and tender. Gentle, though thrilling.
And it happened exactly a week before you left him.
