Dysphoria

05 | Flexible

My bag is digging into my shoulder. It's not that far of a walk, I'm sure I can handle five more minutes of this. I'm already so close and all my things are in order and I don't want to ruin that.

It's after school hours now, so everyone staying for a club is still where they're supposed to be. My two inch heels are clinking against the ground, my skirt moving against my thigh with every step. I'm at the gym Coach Nekomata told me to be at.

"Hello Miss Fifi!" Coach Nekomata greets me as several sets of eyes focus on the newcomer. 

"Who's that?" A shorter boy with different hair colors asks a tall male with spikier hair.

"I don't know."

"She's pretty!" A boy with a a blonde mohawk exclaims, making me smile.

"This is Fifi, she will be helping us during the training camp with Karasuno later." My attention left Nekomata and refocused on Karasuno.

"I have a brother at Karasuno, I'll be able to see him right?"

"Is he on the volleyball team?"

I laugh. He probably didn't bother to join like mom asked him to. "He's supposed to be." Coach Nekomata looks at me along with the team he coaches. "Mom told him to join so he could have friends basically."

"Anyway," Coach Nekomata brings the attention away from my comment. "She'll help us practice before we play with Karasuno in a few days."

"Sounds great." The tall male with the spiky hair says, smiling.

"Show Fifi where everything is Kuroo." So he's Kuroo. He must be the captain.

We begin walking and I follow after him. "Want me to carry your bag?" I don't say anything for a moment. He's just so handsome. "It looks heavy," He adds on.

"No it's okay." I grin at him. "I'm pretty strong." He chuckles at my comment.

"Do you go here? I've never seen you before."

I'm flattered, he thinks I could still be in high school. "No, I'm 22." His eyes are stunning, they make my cheeks flush. Man, I hope he's a third year. "I graduated from Nekoma a few years ago."

"Did you play volleyball?"

"No. I played soccer." He shows me the lockers and he shows me which locker I can use. "I also did track."

"That's cool."

"Yeah, it was." We keep walking to the storage closet. "Y/n always made me practice volleyball with him whenever I was home from college." I laugh after I say it. "He was always hyper. And he always wanted to build muscle. He saw how strong I was as a goalie and decided I was the perfect person to pester."

"Y/n?"

"That's my brother. He's turning 16 now."

"So a first year."

"Yeah." I roll out the cart of balls like Kuroo asks so that the boys can practice while he shows me where things are. "So it was a few years ago that he was crazy about volleyball." I place my finger to my chin, trying to remember. "He loved it at the beginning of middle school."

"What position did he play?" Kuroo has a ball in his hands, spinning it on his ring finger without issue.

Damn. I should know this. "Blocker?"

"I'm a middle blocker too."

I laugh again. "He's not as tall as you. In his first year of middle school he was around my height without these heels," I lift my foot a bit, letting him see the little bit of height my shoes give me. "He's had a major growth spurt since then. He's over 5'10 now."

Kuroo hums. He's so relaxed. "Is he any good?" He asks it so nicely it makes me smile again.

"I actually don't know anymore." He tosses the ball to me.

"Let's practice." I feel my mouth go dry. What If he doesn't like how bad I am? More importantly, why do I feel like some idiot trying to impress a guy? 

"O-okay." I curse at myself for hesitating.

"It's okay if you aren't good." I give him a look and he smiles back at me. "Why do you not know if he's good or not?" Great. We're only talking about him.

"He just stopped playing."

"Why?"

I knew exactly why. But should I tell him?

"Things got bad with the team." The ball makes its way back to him and he sets it to me so I set it back to him. "They started shutting him out." I watch the ball as it spins toward me. "He got in a lot of really nasty fights, he even has scars from it." Kuroo is still listening to me. "That's why he wouldn't let mom or me cut his hair or pin it up all the way. He doesn't want anyone asking him what happened." I let out a sigh and bump the ball before it hits the floor. "We don't even know what happened exactly. We only heard from the principal after getting a letter."

Y/n isn't timid. That's the worst assumption people make about him besides him being a girl. He only says what needs to be said. He doesn't overshare to strangers like I do. 

"The team turned against him. How?"

"Well," I have to think about this. What's the easiest why I can say this. "There was this third year when he was a first year who kept challenging his spot on the team and-" I stop myself. I can't tell this beautiful stranger that. "Never mind. I'm being rude to Y/n." I wait before I speak again, organizing what I'd like to tell him next. Suddenly I feel protective over what he knows about my brother. I realize I've been a bad sister, spewing his business like a child gossiping between classes. 

"Forget you heard any of this."