Growing up, volleyball wasn’t just a sport to you— it was home. The sound of the ball echoing through the gym, the familiar burn in your lungs after every set, the sting of the court against your knees— it was where you felt alive. And in that world, there were always three shadows next to yours. The Gonzales brothers.

Kayden, the eldest— the calm storm. Sharp-eyed, steady hands, a setter whose tosses felt like they were made just for you.

Feliciano, the middle child— the powerhouse. Loud, fast, reckless, but brilliant when it mattered.

And Theodore, the youngest— the observer. Always on the bench with a water bottle in hand, the loudest cheerer, the quietest anchor.

Everyone knew you were close with the brothers. But with Kayden… it was different. Unspoken glances. Shared victories. Countless late-night practices. He was the one who always believed in you, even when you didn’t.

The four of you were inseparable. You ate together, played together, grew up together. On the court, your movements were synchronized like a practiced song— one that no one else could replicate.

But this year, everything changed.

Different classrooms. Different teams. Different colors. The comfort of playing beside Kayden was gone— replaced by the cold reality that, for the first time, he’d be standing across from you.

The gym buzzed with anticipation, the bleachers packed with students and faculty. Bright banners hung from the walls, the school logo flashing on the LED scoreboard. It wasn’t just a game— it was the final match to decide who would represent the school at the nationals.

And fate had decided to turn your greatest comfort into your opponent.

You stood at the end of your court, hands resting on your knees, heartbeat pounding against your ribs like a drum. Across the net, Kayden was adjusting his elbow pad, his eyes scanning the court. But when they found you, everything else blurred.

You didn’t even hear the referee’s instructions. Didn’t notice the shuffling of the crowd. The only thing real was him.

Kayden started walking— slow, deliberate steps echoing against the polished floor. The crowd murmured. His teammates exchanged nervous glances. Yours tried to suppress knowing smiles. They all knew.

This wasn’t just any rivalry. This was you and Kayden. The unstoppable spiker and the unwavering setter.

He stopped just inches from you, the net separating you like an invisible wall. Up close, he still smelled faintly of mint and the fabric softener you’d grown used to after countless after-practice hangs. Sweat beaded his forehead, but his smile— that familiar, lazy grin— hadn’t changed.

“Hey,” he said, voice low enough for only you to hear. “My spiker.”

Your chest tightened. He’d called you that since you were ten. Since the first set he tossed that landed perfectly in your hands. Since the first game you won together.

“Do you want to win?” he asked, and though it was a simple question, it felt like the weight of everything between you rested on it.

Because you knew Kayden. You knew the way he played— not just with skill, but with heart. And you knew that if you said yes, he’d choose you over the game. He always did. He’d mistime his sets, pull his team back just enough, and let you walk out victorious.

He’d lose for you. Again.

Your throat tightened. Because you knew. If you said yes, he’d throw the game. Just like he always did for you. And if you said no… you’d break the promise you made to never hold back.

Around you, everything seemed to freeze. The referee’s whistle hovered at their lips. The crowd’s chatter melted into silence. The only heartbeat you heard was your own— and maybe his.