more than words ﹒ miya twins !

03 ; iii. ━

The gym buzzed with energy as the Inarizaki boys' volleyball team pushed through their practice. Sneakers squeaked against the polished wood floor, and the rhythmic sound of volleyballs being spiked and set created a lively backdrop to the intense session.

You sat with your friends in the stands, casually chatting and laughing, but your attention kept drifting to the court. 

Osamu Miya was unmistakably the highlight of the team. His movements were fluid and precise, marked by a quiet confidence that drew your eyes to him.

More than the others, you found yourself captivated by his every spike and set, each one seeming to flow effortlessly from him. He maintained an unwavering focus, yet every so often, his gaze darted to the stands, as if searching for something—or someone.

Your heart skipped when his gaze finally met yours.

It was just for a moment, yet it felt longer, the world around you fading away as your eyes locked. His expression softened, revealing a brief, almost boyish vulnerability beneath his usual stoic demeanor. But just as quickly, the moment slipped away. A faint blush dusted his cheeks, and he turned back to the game, pretending to focus on the ball as if he hadn't just been caught.

You bit your lip, attempting to steady the fluttering in your chest. Despite your efforts, your eyes returned to him time and again. Each time, you caught him sneaking glances in your direction. These stolen moments were brief, charged with unspoken tension neither of you seemed brave enough to confront. When your gazes met, both of you quickly looked away, faces flushed in silent embarrassment.

As the game continued and the sounds of practice filled the gym, you couldn't shake the feeling that those glances meant something more.

Trying to refocus, you laughed a bit too loudly at a joke one of your friends made, attempting to act as though nothing had happened. Still, the warmth of Osamu's gaze lingered—a secret you carried with you as you observed the game unfold.

In the midst of the chatter, a nagging thought crept in: Did anyone else notice the exchange between you and Osamu?

Suddenly, from across the court, sharp eyes caught the fleeting moment. It wasn't the first time he had noticed though; he had been watching all along. Every glance, every quick look away, every subtle flush of embarrassment—it all went unnoticed. He observed the way both of you seemed flustered, piecing together the silent communication that hung in the air.

A quiet click of the tongue escaped his lips, hidden beneath the noise of practice. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there—a small sound of frustration, tinged with something heavier, like sadness.

Yet, he kept his thoughts to himself, watching silently, his expression unreadable.

You shifted your focus back to your friends, laughing a bit too loudly at another joke, trying to maintain an air of normalcy. 

But the warmth of Osamu's gaze lingered, and the thought of whether anyone had caught that moment still nagged at your mind.