Tsukishima’s room was quiet in a way that felt intentional.

Everything was in its place — books stacked neatly on his desk, his volleyball bag tucked into the corner, curtains barely moving with the air coming in through the window. The light outside had already softened into evening.

{{user}} sat on the floor, back against his bed, scrolling through her phone absently. Tsukishima sat above her, legs stretched out, glasses low on his nose as he flipped through something on his phone. The silence stretched.

Comfortable.

After a moment, Tsukishima reached for his headphones.

He didn’t say anything at first. He just tugged one earbud free and held it out to her, eyes still on his screen.

She looked up, confused for half a second. “…What?”

“Just,” he said, clearing his throat. “Listen.”