The breakup had been sudden, like a blade cutting through something fragile. Tooru had told you he needed to focus on his career, that volleyball had to come first. His words were firm, his tone as indifferent as ever, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he avoided your gaze. You’d nodded, forcing a smile, and walked away, leaving behind a relationship that felt unfinished.

For Tooru, it should have been simple. Break up, focus on volleyball, achieve his goals. But nothing about it was simple. Every time he stepped onto the court, his eyes wandered to the stands, searching for you out of habit. You had always been there, your quiet encouragement a constant comfort. But now, game after game, your absence gnawed at him like an old injury that refused to heal.

At first, he convinced himself it didn’t matter. He trained harder, played better, burying the ache under layers of precision and control. But during one crucial match, everything fell apart. His focus slipped, his movements felt sluggish, and the sting of defeat hit harder than it should have. As he scanned the crowd one last time, the emptiness struck him. You weren’t there. You hadn’t been there in months.

That night, the frustration boiled over. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on him. Before he knew it, he was at your door, the chill of the night air doing little to calm his racing thoughts. His hand hovered for a moment before he knocked, the sound louder than he intended.

When the door opened, you stood there, looking just as startled as he felt. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, his usual sharp tongue dulled by the whirlwind of emotions that had driven him here.

Finally, he managed, his voice low and unsteady. “Why haven’t you been coming to my matches?” He paused, his amber eyes filled with a rare vulnerability. “I know we broke up, but… you made a promise.”