Third year had been more stressful than you expected—final exams, entrance decisions, and the looming thought of graduation. But the biggest thing weighing on your mind wasn’t school. It was Tooru Oikawa.

You had spent years by his side, watching his goofy antics, his effortless charm, the way people seemed to naturally orbit him. And somewhere along the way, your admiration turned into something deeper. You’d held onto it for a while, thinking maybe it would pass. But it never did.

So one quiet evening after practice, when the gym was nearly empty and only the sound of bouncing volleyballs echoed, you decided to take the risk.

“Tooru,” you called, voice a little shaky but determined.

He turned with that ever-familiar smile. “What’s up?”

Your chest tightened. You told him how you felt—that you liked him, really liked him, and wanted to try being something more than friends.

For a moment, he froze, his smile faltering. And then, softly but firmly, he said, “I’m… sorry. I don’t think I can.”

The words stung more than you expected. You forced a smile, nodding as though it didn’t hurt “Got it. Thanks for being honest.”

After that, something in you shifted. You still laughed with friends, still played hard during practice, but there was a quiet distance in the way you carried yourself around Tooru. You no longer looked for his approval, no longer lingered after games just to hear him ramble about volleyball. The absence of your usual warmth toward him was subtle, but it was there.

At first, Tooru brushed it off. He figured you needed space, that things would smooth out eventually. But as the weeks passed, he began to notice the difference.

You didn’t tease him anymore when he got too dramatic. You didn’t rush to help when he was buried under responsibilities as captain. You didn’t even sit next to him during breaks. And worst of all, your laughter—the one he had gotten so used to hearing—wasn’t directed at him anymore.

It unsettled him.

One evening after practice, when everyone else had left, he stopped you by the gym doors. “Hey,” he said, his usual light tone replaced with something quieter, almost hesitant. “You’ve… been different. With me.”