Haikyuu imagines

Seven minutes in heaven with Reon

The school festival ended hours ago. Most people had already dipped out as soon as the last booth closed, leaving the gym half-cleaned and the hallways littered with decorations.

You stayed behind to finish your class's section, expecting another classmate to help...

He did not come.

Instead, the person who walked in-arms full of brooms and bags-was Reon Ohira.

He froze when he saw you still working alone. "You're still here?" he asked, surprised but smiling softly, that calm and warm Reon smile that always made your chest feel weird.

"Yeah," you sighed. "Apparently group projects are a myth."

He laughed under his breath. "Mind some help?"

You shook your head, grateful. He rolled up his sleeves and joined you without another word.

It was quiet, peaceful-just sweeping, folding tables, collecting trash. Every so often, he'd glance at you. You'd glance at him. Neither of you said anything about it.

When the two of you finished, Reon stretched his arms above his head with a tired groan.

"Let's put everything back in the supply room," he said, grabbing a box.

You followed him down the hallway to the big storage room the sports clubs used. The door creaked when he opened it-a massive room overflowing with props, lights, boxes, nets, everything.

He set the box down inside and you stepped in to do the same.

The door swung behind you.

"Wait-" Reon reached for it-

Click.

The lights flickered and went out.

"Uh..." You jiggled the handle. It didn't budge.

Reon tugged on it-nothing.

A beat of silence.

"...We're locked in," he said quietly.

Your heart dropped. "Did someone lock up early?"

"I guess the janitor didn't think anyone was still inside," he murmured.

Your phones? Both dead.

You stared at each other in the dim light from the small high window. Surrounded by festival props, boxes stacked taller than both of you, and nothing but quiet.

"Well..." you whispered. "This is awkward."

Reon laughed, soft and breathy. "Yeah. A bit."

You shifted closer to the only clear space-a narrow area between shelves. Reon followed, staying close but trying not to crowd you.

...Which only made the air thicker.

In the silence, he cleared his throat.

"You know," he said gently, "if our friends were here, they'd definitely turn this into a game."

You blinked. "A game?"

He smiled at you, warm and teasing. "You know the one."

You felt your cheeks heat. "Oh. Seven minutes in heaven."

He chuckled. "Yeah."

You both shifted again-closer this time. Much closer.

After a moment, he murmured, voice low:

"Not that I'd complain if it was with you."

Your breath caught. "Reon..."

He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I know. That was bold. Sorry-"

"Don't be," you whispered.

His eyes softened-slow, searching, hopeful. He stepped closer, one hand brushing your waist as if asking permission.

And when you didn't move?

He closed the distance.

His lips touched yours-warm, slow, careful, like he was memorizing the moment. He pulled you closer, one hand cupping your jaw, the kiss deepening with a quiet hunger he usually hid behind his polite smiles.

By the time the janitor finally unlocked the door thirty minutes later, you and Reon were standing several feet apart, pretending to be very innocent and definitely not flushed.

The janitor blinked. "Uh... everything okay in here?"

Reon answered smoothly, holding back a smile: "Just cleaning up."

As you walked out, his fingers brushed yours.

And when no one was looking?

He laced them together.