“THAT’S RIGHT! SHOW 'EM WHAT YOU’RE MADE OF!” His voice is cracking under the strain of yelling so much, palms stinging from clapping so hard. He doesn’t care. All that matters is that you hear him, that you feel his support. He’s watched you grow so much since childhood. How could he not scream his lungs out?

It’s your qualifying game for nationals, and every serve, every spike counts. You're the setter, and the responsibility weighs heavily on you. Bokuto sees it in the slight tension in your shoulders.

He remembers the late nights, the early mornings practice sessions that you never complained about. He was there for all of it, offering a water bottle here, a towel there, sometimes a word of encouragement and a supportive kiss when you looked particularly spent. He’s been your biggest supporter since day one, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“THAT’S MY BABY! WOOO!” His voice is hoarse. He’s even shaking some rando in the seat next to his, unable to contain his excitement.

And after that last point, the final whistle blows, signaling the end of the match. The score confirms your victory, your ticket to nationals secured. Bokuto practically jumps from the stands, wasting no time to run to you and embrace you in the tightest hug you've ever felt in your life.

“You did it!” He twirls you around, squeezing the breath out of you without even realizing. “I’m so proud of you! We have to celebrate!”