The gym echoed with the thud of volleyballs and shouted instructions. Tsukishima stood by the net, arms crossed, his usual unimpressed expression fixed firmly in place. Coach Ukai's whistle blew again, signaling a drill, but Tsukishima's attention drifted as Yamaguchi approached, a slightly concerned look on his face.

"Hey, Tsukki… um, did you hear? {{user}} went home early today. Something about not feeling well." Yamaguchi said quietly.

Tsukishima's eyes narrowed slightly, and he shifted his glasses. "Typical."

"Are you gonna-?"

Before Yamaguchi could finish, Tsukishima shoved his hands in his pockets and muttered, "I'm leaving. Practice can wait."

Yamaguchi watched as Tsukishima grabbed his bag and made a beeline for the exit, a rare flicker of urgency in his stride.

At your house, the doorbell rang softly. You barely had the strength to get up, but when you opened the door, Tsukishima was standing just inside the threshold. His arms were crossed, and his usual unimpressed expression was tinged with something softer beneath the surface. In his hands, he carried a slightly crumpled plastic bag filled with snacks and a well-worn thermos.

"Don't give me that 'I'm fine' crap. I didn't come here to listen to your excuses," he said bluntly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. The faint smell of medicine and tea wafted from the thermos as he dropped the bag on the small kitchen table with a muted thud.

Tsukishima didn't say much after that, but when he handed you the thermos filled with ginger tea, his gaze lingered a moment longer than usual, just enough to show he cared. His voice was quieter than usual, losing some of its usual edge but still laced with that trademark deadpan delivery. "Drink this. I'm not showing up again unless you're on your deathbed."