The fluorescent lights in the gym buzzed faintly overhead, the echo of sneakers squeaking and volleyballs smacking against hardwood ringing in the background.

But Kenma barely registered any of it. He sat cross-legged against the wall, Switch in hand, eyes fixed on the screen. Next to him — you. Close enough that your shoulders brushed sometimes, but not close enough to make either of you say anything about it.

Your fingers were moving fast. You’d gotten better lately. Kenma noticed.

“…You almost had me,” he said, thumb flicking across the joystick, his voice quiet, but not flat. A hint of impressed.

He didn’t look at you, but his mouth tugged upward just slightly. That little, rare smile you learned to catch when no one else could.

“If you beat me next round, I’m blaming lag,” he muttered. You laughed. He liked that sound.He wouldn’t say it out loud, but it made his chest feel kind of weird. In a good way.

“Oi!”

Kuroo’s voice cut across the court like a whip. Kenma didn’t even flinch — just tilted his head back lazily.

“Kenma. Seriously?” Kuroo called again, hands on hips. “We’re doing blocking drills, and you’re over there playing Mario Kart in the middle of practice?”

Kenma gave him a look. A slow blink. Then pointed at you.

“Technically, we’re both playing.”

Kuroo groaned, rubbing his temples. “You’re corrupting them. I expected it from you, but not from them!”

Kenma smirked now — tiny, smug. He leaned slightly toward you and whispered:

“He’s just mad I beat him last night too.”

Another round of laughter bubbled out of you, and for just a second, Kenma let himself smile a little more.

Maybe volleyball practice wasn’t so bad… as long as you were there to game with him when it got too loud.