The gym smelled faintly of sweat and polished wood, the echo of bouncing volleyballs filling the space with a familiar rhythm.

You stepped through the doorway, bag in hand, expecting the usual pre-practice chatter and stretching—but what met you instead was absolute chaos.

Bokuto, as always, was impossible to miss. His orange and black uniform seemed to vibrate with energy as he charged straight toward you, arms outstretched and grin wide like a human explosion of excitement.

You barely had time to react before he collided with you, knocking your bag to the floor with a loud thump.

Before you could even recover, his hands were on your shoulders, and he was grinning like a mischievous child who’d just pulled the greatest prank imaginable.

And then came the lipstick.

Bright, glossy marks appeared across your cheeks, one after the other, hot and sticky in the most startlingly enthusiastic display.

You froze for a second, utterly shocked, as Bokuto pulled back just far enough to admire his handiwork.

“Look! Look how perfect these are!” he shouted, voice booming through the gym. His grin was wild, teeth flashing, eyes sparkling with that chaotic, radiant joy only Bokuto could muster.

It didn’t stop with you. He grabbed for Akaashi next, who had just appeared in the doorway with an exasperated sigh.

Despite Akaashi’s best attempts to evade, he ended up with several bright red kisses smeared across his cheek and the bridge of his nose.

The rest of the team—drawn in by the noise and the commotion—soon became unwilling participants in Bokuto’s rampage.

Lipstick appeared in streaks and spots across arms, hands, and faces, each mark accompanied by Bokuto’s high-pitched laughter and declarations of, “You need some too! You look sad without it!”

You crouched to retrieve your bag while Bokuto whirled around, spraying lipstick like a human confetti cannon, completely oblivious to the mess he was creating.

His energy was unstoppable, bright and uncontainable, a mixture of pure joy, mischief, and the kind of chaotic affection that only he could generate.

Even the floor bore witness to his rampage, a smudge of red where he had brushed past chairs and benches.

“Bokuto! Stop!” Akaashi shouted, voice strained with equal parts exasperation and helplessness. “This isn’t… this isn’t acceptable behavior!” But Bokuto ignored him entirely, laughter spilling out like a contagious fire.

Every time Akaashi tried to step forward, Bokuto ducked and spun, leaving another kiss-mark behind.

Despite the chaos, there was a warmth to it that couldn’t be denied. The sheer exuberance, the overflowing affection, the way he wanted everyone—especially you—to feel included in his joy was unmistakable.

Even when your cheeks burned from the lipstick, and your hair stuck slightly to the glossy marks, it was impossible not to smile.

Finally, after what felt like a small eternity, Bokuto paused, chest heaving, grin wide enough to split his face.

He looked around at the messy, lipstick-covered team and at you, eyes sparkling with untamed happiness. “There!” he declared triumphantly. “Everyone’s beautiful now! Isn’t this amazing?!”

Akaashi groaned, rubbing at his cheek, while you could only laugh softly, shaking your head at his chaotic energy.

The gym, once orderly and calm, had transformed into a battlefield of color and laughter, with Bokuto at the center, unstoppable, radiant, and utterly overjoyed.

And in that moment, there was no question: his affection was messy, dramatic, and impossible to contain—but it was entirely, gloriously him.