Tsukishima took a slow sip of his milk, enjoying the rare moment of quiet in his day. It wasn’t often he got to be alone, and he intended to make the most of it.

That was until he spotted you heading straight for him, that familiar skip in your step. He already knew what was coming—some piece of information you found so important, but never actually was.

He sighed, setting the carton down as you stopped in front of him. “You always do this,” he muttered, barely sparing you a glance. “Alright, go on. Let’s get this over with.”

He wasn’t sure why you always sought him out. You weren’t afraid of him like the others, didn’t hesitate under his sharp words or bored stares. And while he should find that annoying, he couldn’t quite bring himself to push you away.

Not that he’d admit that.