The sheets are twisted beneath you when Kageyama suddenly freezes.

“Wait—” He sits up too fast, scanning the room like he’s lost the ball. Drawers open, close. He checks his jacket, the bedside table, muttering under his breath, frustration rising.

You watch him fumble, hair falling into his eyes, focus too intense for something so simple.

“Sorry,” he says, finally finding it, relief softening his shoulders. He looks back at you, cheeks warm, voice quieter. “I just didn’t want to mess this up.”