A game of hearts {Kuroo}

14.

Over the following week, Kuroo's ankle became a central part of Y/N's routine. Despite his playful protests, she made sure he wasn't overworking himself or putting unnecessary pressure on his injury. She visited every day after her classes, armed with notes from her own studies, food, and—most importantly—a determination to help Kuroo recover, both physically and emotionally.

Kuroo, although outwardly reluctant to accept help, secretly appreciated her presence more than he could say. It wasn't just the care she gave to his injury—it was the way she filled his dorm with her quiet presence, her focus on studies, and the way she genuinely seemed to understand his frustrations without pushing him to talk about them.

---

It was one of those evenings when Kuroo realized just how much Y/N's companionship had come to mean to him. She sat at his desk, absorbed in her biology textbook while he lounged on his bed, his leg elevated. The volleyball court felt worlds away, and the usual rush of practices, matches, and captaincy duties seemed like a distant memory.

"I never thought I'd miss volleyball this much," Kuroo said, breaking the comfortable silence between them. His voice was soft, tinged with frustration he had been trying to keep hidden.

Y/N looked up from her book, her eyes meeting his. "You've been playing for years. It's natural to miss something that's such a big part of your life."

Kuroo nodded, his gaze drifting to the bandage around his ankle. "Yeah, but I didn't expect to feel this... lost without it."

Y/N closed her textbook, setting it aside as she turned her full attention to him. "Lost?"

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Volleyball's always been my thing, you know? It's not just a sport to me—it's what I'm good at. What I'm known for. Being a captain, leading the team... it's a huge part of who I am. And now, being stuck here, not able to play or train... I don't know what to do with myself."

Y/N's heart ached for him. She understood, maybe more than he realized, how it felt to lose something that defined you. She had felt that same uncertainty before, the fear of not being enough without the things that people expected from her.

She stood up from the desk and walked over to sit on the edge of his bed, carefully avoiding his injured leg. "Kuroo," she said softly, "you're more than just volleyball."

Kuroo looked at her, his dark eyes searching her face as if trying to understand what she meant.

"You're smart, you're a leader, and you care about the people around you," she continued. "Volleyball might be a big part of your life, but it's not the only thing that defines you. You're more than just the captain of the team. You're Tetsurō."

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, Kuroo didn't know how to respond. He wasn't used to people seeing him beyond his role on the court. For so long, volleyball had been his identity, and now, hearing Y/N say that he was more than that... it shook something inside him.

"Thanks," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't think anyone's ever said that to me before."

Y/N smiled, a soft, understanding smile that made Kuroo's chest tighten. "You don't have to carry everything on your own. I know how much pressure you're under, but it's okay to lean on others sometimes. You don't always have to be the strong one."

Kuroo let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Her words, simple as they were, made him feel lighter. He had spent so much of his time being the reliable one, the captain everyone depended on. But here, in this quiet moment with Y/N, he realized that it was okay to let someone take care of him for a change.

"You know," he said after a pause, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "you're pretty good at this whole 'taking care of people' thing."

Y/N laughed softly. "I guess I've had practice. I've always been the responsible one in my family, so it's kind of second nature."

Kuroo chuckled, the sound lighter than it had been in days. "Figures. You and I are more alike than I thought."

---

As the days passed, Kuroo and Y/N fell into an easy routine. Kuroo would text her updates about his ankle—sometimes serious, sometimes sarcastic—and she'd always show up in the evenings, carrying study materials and snacks. They would sit together in his dorm, often in comfortable silence, working on their respective tasks. It was during these moments that Kuroo realized how much he had come to rely on her presence, not just for the practical help she provided but for the sense of peace she brought into his life.

One evening, as they were finishing up a particularly quiet study session, Kuroo glanced over at Y/N, who was jotting down notes from a textbook.

"Hey," he said, breaking the silence. "Thanks for everything."

Y/N looked up, tilting her head slightly in confusion. "For what?"

"For helping me out while I'm stuck here. I know it's not exactly exciting for you to be playing nursemaid."

Y/N smiled softly, shaking her head. "You don't have to thank me, Kuroo. I'm happy to help."

He stared at her for a moment, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. She was always so selfless, so willing to be there for him without expecting anything in return. It was something he hadn't realized he needed until now.

"I don't say this often," Kuroo said, his voice softer, "but I really appreciate it, Y/N. You've been... a lot more than just a study partner."

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his tone. She wasn't sure how to respond, but something about the way he was looking at her made her feel like words weren't necessary.

Instead, she reached out and gently placed her hand on his arm, a simple gesture of reassurance. "Anytime, Kuroo."

Kuroo smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes. In that moment, he realized that this injury—though frustrating and painful—had given him something he hadn't expected. It had brought him closer to Y/N in a way that nothing else could have.

They sat there, side by side, their connection deepening with each passing day. Kuroo found solace in Y/N's quiet strength, and Y/N discovered that she was capable of caring for someone in a way she hadn't before. Their friendship, which had started as a casual arrangement, had evolved into something more, something that neither of them could deny.

As Kuroo's injury slowly healed, so did the unspoken distance between them. They were no longer just two students navigating their separate paths—they were two people who had found comfort and support in each other, and though neither of them had said it out loud, they both knew that their bond had changed.

They were closer than ever, and the lines betweenfriendship and something more were beginning to blur.