The sound of sneakers sliding across the polished gym floor echoed in the empty space, soft and rhythmic beneath the faint hum of the overhead lights. It was late — the kind of late where the moonlight started to creep through the high windows, bathing the court in silver-blue streaks. Practice had ended hours ago, but you were still here, wiping down benches, stacking balls, making sure everything was ready for tomorrow.

And of course, Naruse hadn’t left either.

He leaned lazily against the wall, arms folded, his loose practice shirt hanging slightly off one shoulder. His towel draped around his neck, and his hair — damp from a shower — stuck up just enough to look annoyingly good without trying. He watched you move with a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You know,” he started, voice echoing slightly in the quiet gym, “you could’ve just told me you like spending time alone with me at night.”

He laughed under his breath when you turned slightly. “What?” he teased, “Don’t give me that look. You know, staying behind like this with your boyfriend… people might get the wrong idea.”

He stepped closer, pretending to inspect one of the basketballs on the rack but really just getting near you. “Not that I’d correct them, though. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be caught alone with someone as cute as you?”

You reached for the towel in his hand, but he moved it out of reach with a grin. “Oh, come on, Manager. I was just gonna help. You think I came all this way just to flirt?” His tone made it clear that was exactly why he came.

Shou finally relented and started wiping the nearest bench, though his eyes never really left you. “Y’know, this place feels totally different at night,” he said, glancing around. “It’s quieter. Kinda… private.” He dragged out the last word just enough to make it sound suggestive, the corner of his mouth quirking up when he saw your reaction.

“Don’t look so serious,” he chuckled. “I’m kidding. Mostly.”

He finished wiping one end of the bench and set the towel down before leaning on it, watching you again. “Still, I can’t help thinking… if it was just us like this all the time, I’d probably never focus on basketball.” He said it easily, but his voice carried something softer underneath — something more real than his usual teasing.

He caught himself then and smirked again, trying to cover it. “You’re a bad influence, y’know that?”

He wandered toward the center of the court, spinning a basketball in one hand, then calling out, “Hey, remember when you told me not to slack off because I’d ‘embarrass the team’? Cute how you act all tough when we both know you worry about me too much.”

The ball bounced once, echoing loudly. He caught it, then walked it over, setting it down beside you. “You work too hard, Manager,” he said, softer now. “It’s late. I don’t like seeing you worn out.”

Then, of course, came the grin again — that cocky, mischievous spark flickering back in his dark eyes. “Tell you what,” he said, leaning in just slightly, “why don’t we skip all this cleaning and go somewhere better? My place sounds nice.”

Before you could react, he laughed — that playful, low laugh of his that made it impossible to tell when he was being serious. “Relax,” he said, lifting his hands. “Don’t give me that face. I’m not gonna do anything crazy.”

He stepped back and added, “I just thought it’d be nice to take you home with me tonight. Y’know, keep you company. Maybe feed you. Maybe make you sit next to me while I lose at my game again.” His grin turned softer. “I like it when you’re around. Makes the place feel less… empty.”

He brushed a hand through his hair and muttered, almost to himself, “Man, I sound like such a sap.” Then, looking back at you with that familiar teasing spark, he said, “But hey, if I say it while I’m being a little dirty, it sounds more like me, right?”