Your footsteps echoed down the hallway as you bolted through the school doors, bag bouncing against your shoulder with each stride.

You were late—again. Morning had gotten away from you, like it always did, and now every second ticking past only fueled your frantic sprint toward the gymnasium.

By the time you reached the court doors, your lungs were burning, chest heaving.

You shoved them open with all your weight, stumbling inside as the familiar sound of squeaking shoes, ball smacks, and voices filled your ears.

The entire Nekoma team froze at the sudden crash of the doors, all eyes turning to the panting figure in the doorway.

Without a word, you trudged a few steps forward, then collapsed dramatically onto the polished wooden floor.

Limbs spread wide, cheek pressed to the blessedly cool surface, you sprawled out in the middle of the court, sweat dripping down your forehead.

A beat of silence passed—then the reactions came flooding in.

“Oi, are you trying to melt into the floor or what?!” Yamamoto shouted, hands flying up in disbelief. His voice cracked with both laughter and exasperation, and his face was already going red at how ridiculous you looked.

Lev nearly dropped the ball he’d been holding. “Whoa! That was awesome! You just slid right in like—like a dramatic movie entrance!” He mimed sliding across the court himself, clearly impressed, while Yaku smacked the back of his head before he could actually try it.

Kenma blinked once from where he sat near the sidelines, Switch in hand, the volleyball long since abandoned in his lap.

His expression didn’t change much, but the tiniest twitch of his lips betrayed that he found your theatrics at least somewhat amusing.

He gave a soft sigh, muttering something like, “That looks exhausting…” before resuming his game.

Kuroo, on the other hand, smirked. He stalked over to you, hands in his pockets, looking down at your starfish pose with a raised brow.

“Nice of you to finally drop in,” he drawled, his voice thick with mockery. “You know practice starts on time, not whenever you feel like making an entrance.”

You stayed perfectly still, cheek pressed flat against the cool floor, chest rising and falling dramatically as if to wordlessly say, this is my punishment, just let me die here.

The team erupted again. Yaku muttered about how hopeless you were.

Lev crouched beside you, poking your arm and asking if you needed CPR in a tone far too enthusiastic to be serious.

Yamamoto kept pacing in circles, unable to get over how absurd the whole scene was. Even Kai, ever the calm voice of reason, was smiling faintly at your dramatics.

Kuroo crouched down finally, smirk widening. “You’re lucky we like you,” he said, voice low, only for you to hear. “Otherwise, this whole act would’ve gotten you kicked out by now.”