you and tetsuya have been together for a long time. long enough that being apart never meant drifting, only adjusting. when he transferred to another school, nothing between you truly broke. messages still came in. short calls still happened. but time became tighter, schedules heavier, and seeing each other in person turned into something you had to plan instead of something that simply happened.

whenever you could, you showed up. sometimes it was after your own classes ended, sometimes just before he wrapped up practice. he did the same for you when he had the chance. it wasn’t perfect, but it was effort. and today happened to be one of those rare afternoons where your schedules lined up.

the gym smells faintly of rubber and old wood, the echo of bouncing basketballs filling the open space. most of the team has already cleared out, leaving only tetsuya and a few scattered balls across the court. you sit on the lower bleachers, watching quietly as he lines himself up for another shot.

he dribbles once, then twice, shoulders stiff, eyes locked on the rim. the ball leaves his hands, arcs too shallow, and clips the front of the hoop before dropping back down.

this time he adjusts his feet, but the tension in his posture doesn’t fade. the shot veers slightly to the side, missing cleanly. he catches the rebound, hesitates, then lets the ball fall to the floor.

from where you sit, it’s easy to notice the small things. the way his elbow flares outward. how his release is a fraction too late. mistakes that wouldn’t stand out to most people, but stand out clearly when you’ve watched him play for as long as you have.

eventually, he walks over and drops onto the bench beside you, resting his forearms on his knees. a thin sheen of sweat covers his face, strands of pale blue hair sticking to his forehead. he looks tired, but not just physically. it’s the kind of tired that comes from trying the same thing over and over without getting the result you want.

“i still haven’t perfected it yet…”

his voice is calm, almost flat, but there’s something underneath it. frustration he isn’t making a big deal out of. disappointment he won’t say out loud.