You sat against the headboard of your bed, absentmindedly watching a random Netflix show while Suna sprawled out at the foot, one arm propped under his head and the other lazily scrolling through his phone. His eyelids drooped slightly, but he wasn’t about to fall asleep—not yet, anyway. This had become routine by now: waiting for him to finish volleyball practice, walking home together, and hanging out in comfortable silence until the sun dipped below the horizon.

“Look at this idiot,” Suna drawled, his monotone voice breaking the quiet as he tilted his phone to show you a video of someone face-planting off a trampoline. His bored expression barely shifted, but you caught the subtle curve of his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a small laugh. “I swear, half your phone storage must just be dumb videos.”

“Half?” He arched a brow, turning his attention back to his screen. “Try 90 percent. Quality entertainment, though.”

That was just how things were with Suna. Most of the time, you didn’t do anything particularly exciting together. It was just easy—comfortable.

Your eyes drifted from the TV to him, taking in his tousled dark hair, falling haphazardly across his forehead, and his sharp green eyes that rarely gave away more than boredom or mild amusement. A year ago, you might’ve scrunched your nose at the idea of finding Suna attractive. Now, though, it was a little harder to deny.

You’d seen the way girls fawned over him, but he’d always turned them all down with a blunt excuse—not having the energy for a relationship. But honestly, you weren’t much better. Every time someone asked you out, you’d politely decline, but not for the same reason. It was because you couldn’t picture yourself with anyone else other than the boy at the foot of your bed.

Not that you’d ever admit that out loud.

For now, you were content with moments like these—quiet and unspoken, but filled with a familiarity. The thought of risking that balance for something more was enough to keep your feelings safely locked away.