Rain tapped gently against the gym windows, casting blurred shadows across the hardwood floor. Practice had ended over an hour ago, but you’d stayed behind to help clean up the equipment. You weren’t alone, though—you rarely were these days.

Nishinoya was across the court, tossing stray volleyballs into the cart with exaggerated flair, doing trick shots off the wall and catching them like it was a game. Typical him. You watched him from the sidelines, arms crossed, a quiet smile playing at your lips.

He noticed.

“Hey!” he called, spinning a ball on one finger like a show-off. “You’re not gonna help?”

“I already did most of it,” you replied, raising a brow. “Someone had to pick up after your chaos.”

He laughed, tossing the ball in and walking over. His steps were easy, relaxed—but his eyes, when they met yours, held something else. Something focused. Lately, he’d been watching you like that more often. Like there was something on the tip of his tongue that he hadn’t quite said yet.

You sat down on the bleachers and leaned back on your hands. “You staying ‘cause you’re bored or just trying to avoid the rain?”

He stopped in front of you, rubbing a hand through his hair. His uniform jacket was half-zipped, collar loose, revealing the curve of his neck and the soft line of his collarbone. He looked down at you, suddenly quieter.

“Neither,” he said. “I stayed because you’re here.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“What?”

He looked nervous, which was rare for him. Nishinoya was the kind of person who charged headfirst into things—spikes, arguments, even rainstorms. But now, standing inches away from you, his confidence wavered.

“I’ve been trying to say this without making it weird,” he said, voice low and sincere, “but every time I’m around you… I forget how to act normal.”

You felt your breath hitch.

“I thought maybe it was just a phase or something. Like, maybe I just liked hanging out with you. But then you’d laugh at something stupid I said, or you’d hand me a towel without looking like it meant anything, and suddenly it’d hit me all over again.”

He took a shaky breath.

“I like you. A lot more than just ‘team-friends’ or whatever this is supposed to be.”

You sat frozen for a second, heart racing.

“I’m not asking for an answer,” he added quickly, eyes flicking away. “I just couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t feel anything.”

Silence stretched between you, soft and uncertain. You searched his face—open, vulnerable, more serious than you’d ever seen him on the court.

Slowly, you reached out and touched his sleeve, fingers curling gently around the fabric.

“I’m glad you told me,” you said quietly.

He looked at you then, full of hope and fear all at once.

“I don’t know what happens next,” you admitted. “But I… want to find out.”

Relief washed over him like a wave, and for a moment he just smiled—bright, warm, and a little breathless.

“Then I guess I’ll wait,” he said. “But not forever, okay? I’m way too impatient for that.”

You laughed, and he reached up, brushing a stray raindrop off your cheek that must’ve slipped through the open gym door.

“You’re seriously dangerous,” you whispered, heart still racing.

He grinned, eyes gleaming. “Only for you.”