The gym is boiling—bleachers full, cameras flashing, and the floor squeaking under the weight of one of the most intense matches Nekoma’s played this season.

The ball rockets up—Lev jumps. Time slows like a movie reel dragging its feet. His arms stretch, fingers arched. Perfect block.

Cheers erupt—Nekoma’s bench explodes in noise, and Lev turns instinctively toward the crowd, grin stretched across his face like a win-trophy. He’s waiting to lock eyes with you. Just a little glance. Just a routine “I wanna see her face before I spike this man into the floor” type moment.

But She’s not there.

The cheer team is there. Pompoms? Check. Dramatic chants? Triple check. That girl with the giant “WE HEART KUROO” sign? Definitely there. But you? No sparkly jacket. No megaphone. Not even a smile.

His eyes flick to the stands. Nekoma fans. Red banners. Kuroo’s girlfriend with the glitter sign. Kenma’s got his own fanclub now? Weird. But something’s off. Where are you?

Lev’s heart does something very stupid and un-athletic. It drops. He misses the next block. Badly.

The ball smacks the court next to him and the entire Nekoma bench lets out a long, painful "OHHHHHHHHHHH." Even Yaku’s yelling. Kuroo’s hands are on his hips like a disappointed father. Kenma doesn’t even look up from his water bottle.

Lev’s frozen. Vision flicking around the bleachers like he’s scanning for enemy snipers. Where. Is. His. Girlfriend.

He plays the rest of the set like a robot with a virus. Stiff, distracted, overcorrecting everything. Nearly body-checks Yamamoto going for a save.

When the whistle blows for the end of the match (they win—barely), he sprints to the crowd before even bowing. Kuroo yells after him but it’s lost in the sea of applause. He’s moving like the match isn’t over, like his life isn’t back on track until he knows where you are.

Then— He spots you.

Not in the cheer uniform. Not in the front row.

You’re squished between a bunch of students up in the stands, your knees to your chest and a soda in hand, clapping like nothing’s wrong. Like he didn’t have a breakdown on court three seconds ago.

Kuroo jogs over to Lev. “Focus, dude.”

“I—I thought I saw…”

Kuroo narrows his eyes. “Eyes on the game. You good?”

Lev nods. He's lying. Something's unsettled in his stomach.

He plays through it. Barely. Shaky hands. One too many glances over the crowd. Like if he blinks too long, he’ll miss the moment you do show up. Then—match point. Victory. Cheers erupt. Nekoma wins.

Lev breathes out, exhausted, sweat dripping. The team huddles in, jumps and screams.

He all but launches himself into the bleachers. Trips over two bags. Steps on someone’s popcorn. Nearly drops his phone. Finally, he skids to a stop in front of you, panting like he just ran a marathon through emotional hell.

“BABE—” Lev's voice is loud. He does not care. “You’re not in cheer?!” He points dramatically toward the court like it just wronged him, “I almost died in there! I missed a block because I couldn’t find your face! I thought you quit! Or you hated me! Or maybe you got recruited by another school or something insane!”