Kuroo’s room was filled with the quiet hum of late-night studying—his pencil scratching against paper, the occasional tap of his fingers against the desk as he mulled over whatever chemistry problem had caught his interest. His notes were sprawled everywhere, a chaotic mix of formulas and diagrams only he could decipher.

Meanwhile, you lay on his bed, absentmindedly running your fingers through his cat’s fur as it purred against your touch. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from his desk lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The contrast between you was almost laughable—him, deeply immersed in his world of science, and you, content in the silence, simply existing in his presence.

After a while, Kuroo sighed, stretching his arms above his head before finally turning to glance at you. His lips curled into a smirk as he took in the sight—his usually sharp, quick-footed libero now completely at ease, tangled up with his cat like you belonged there.

“You’re lucky I’m such a responsible student,” he mused, leaning back in his chair. “Because if I wasn’t, I’d be over there bothering you instead.”

His golden eyes gleamed with something playful, something fond. It was moments like these that reminded you just how different you were. He was all fire and energy, always pushing forward, while you were the quiet tide, steady and unwavering.

And yet, somehow, you fit together effortlessly.