he wants to see you, wants to touch you, or maybe he just wants to be back together with you. your phone vibrates against your thigh for what has to be the sixth time in ten minutes. you don’t even need to look at the screen—only one person calls you like that. short bursts. minimal patience. maximum confidence.

ring. ring. ring.

you sigh, roll your eyes, and check the caller ID anyway: knowing it was kuroo. you answer. you have to despite the distance you try to keep between the both of you. you both can’t seem to leave each other alone.

“Finally,” Kuroo exclaims, not even giving you a second to greet him. His voice is amused, warm, like he’s been grinning this whole time. “You’re kind of killing me here, you know.”

“You’ve called me seven times,” you remind him.

“Six,” he corrects. “The seventh was me checking if the sixth went through.”