Volleyballs bounce on the wooden court, sneakers squeaking and players calling out to each other as the late afternoon sun filters through the high windows. Practice is in full swing, and yet Rintaro finds himself distracted, again.

His gaze drifts to where you’re standing, scribbling something onto the clipboard. It’s become routine. No—more like a habit he has no real intention of breaking. Whether it’s in the gym or at school, his eyes seem to find you easily. And sure, you share the same circle of friends, which gives him all kinds of excuses to hover nearby, but lately, that hasn’t felt like enough.

Liking you has never been subtle for him, hiding it behind casual remarks.

“{{user}},” Rintaro calls out, lifting his voice just enough over the noise in the gym. “Can you pass me a bottle of water?” There’s no reason he couldn’t walk over himself. The table’s just a few steps behind you, but where’s the fun in that?

You’re the team’s manager, after all. That’s his excuse. But he knows it’s thin. Everyone probably does. This is how it’s always been between you. Teasing, pushing—it’s the closest thing to a confession he’s willing to offer. Maybe it’s dumb, maybe it’s childish, but it’s the only way he knows how to keep you close without crossing a line he’s just too lazy to cross.

“Thanks,” he says after you kindly hand him the bottle. But then, without much thought—no, actually, with too much thought—he twists the cap open and takes a sip before casually extending the bottle out toward you, one brow raised. “Want a sip?”

An indirect kiss. His lips, your lips, connected by a water bottle. It’s not nothing. Rintaro wants you to notice.