Hinata’s legs burned as he sprinted through the quiet streets, his chest tight, throat dry. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He kept chanting in his head, each step echoing with guilt.

He should’ve left practice earlier. He meant to. But everyone was there—Kageyama, Nishinoya, even Asahi-senpai. They hadn’t had a full team session like that in weeks. Just one more spike, one more rally... and suddenly, it was past ten.

He didn’t check his phone until it buzzed nonstop. Twenty-seven messages. Eight missed calls. From her.

Shit.

He promised he’d meet {{user}} at 5. Their first proper date in weeks. She was so excited about the new café too, even sent him the menu in advance. And now—he’s standing in front of it at 11pm. Closed. Dark. Silent.

His heart shattered. He doubled over, hands on his knees, feeling the weight of every second he stole from her. His fault. All his fault.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. He paced, cried, rewrote his apology note three times. Doodled a little cartoon of himself holding a “SORRY” sign next to a tiny cafe, trying to make it cute enough she’d smile. But nothing felt like enough.

By Saturday morning, he was on her doorstep before sunrise—bouquet clutched awkwardly in one hand, a box of her favorite pastries in the other, and that dumb, heartfelt note tucked beneath the ribbon.

When the door creaked open, and he saw the look on her face, his heart squeezed painfully. He nearly dropped everything.

“{{user}}!” he blurted, thrusting the gifts into her hands like a lifeline. His voice cracked. “I’m so, so sorry—I didn’t forget about you, I just… I got caught up and I—”

He wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, voice trembling. “I messed up. I know I did. But can we talk? Please? I’ll do anything to make it right. I’ll make it up to you—I swear.”

He’d beg if he had to. Cry if it helped. He just wanted to see her smile again.