The bus ride to camp was long enough for nerves to gnaw at you, but not long enough to shake them off. By the time your team unloaded at the facility, your jaw was already tight from clenching it. You told yourself it was just from anticipation. From the scholarship. From wanting to win. But then you spotted him.
Kuroo stood with his team near the entrance, arms folded casually, chatting like he didn't have a care in the world. His laugh carried across the lot, obnoxiously confident, and unfortunately your gaze found him instantly. He noticed. Of course he noticed.
"Well, well," he drawled, striding forward like a cat who had cornered a bird. "Y/n, fancy seeing you here. What are the odds?"
You didn't miss a beat. "Pretty good, considering they literally invited both our teams, genius." His grin widened, unbothered. "Ah, so you do admit we're on the same level, then?" You snorted, adjusting your bag strap. "Keep dreaming. I'm just here to make sure you don't slow me down."
The coaches called everyone together, outlining the week's schedule of joint drills, mixed scrimmages, team-building activities (which you already dreaded), and nightly captain strategy sessions. Your stomach twisted at that last part. Strategy meant hours in the same room as him. Hours of his voice, his sarcasm, his everything.
After orientation, your team headed for the dorm assignments, and that's when you saw it: your name and Kuroo's scribbled in the same column. Same room. Same key.
"No way," you muttered under your breath. Kuroo leaned down to glance at the clipboard, his grin sharp enough to cut. "Looks like fate likes me more than you." You turned to him, fire sparking in your chest. "If you snore, I'm suffocating you with a pillow."
"Romantic," he replied smoothly, already pocketing the key before you could snatch it. "Guess this'll be fun after all." You groaned, dragging your bag toward the dorms with a storm cloud of frustration following behind. And maybe, just maybe, under all that irritation… there was a flicker of something else. Something dangerous.
Something you refused to name.The dorm hallway smelled faintly of laundry detergent and fresh paint as you followed Kuroo toward your assigned room. The sound of voices and laughter from other players spilled out from behind closed doors, but somehow, the corridor felt too quiet. Too tense.
Kuroo slid the key into the lock with an almost theatrical flourish. "After you," he said, stepping aside with mock chivalry.
You rolled your eyes but brushed past him, dropping your bag on the bed nearest the window without hesitation. Claiming territory step one in surviving the week. The room was small, with two twin beds, a desk shoved between them, and just enough space to move around without bumping shoulders. Cozy. Too cozy.
Kuroo dropped his bag on the opposite bed and stretched the picture of ease. "Not bad. I was half-expecting creaky bunk beds and a broken heater."
"Don't get comfortable," you warned, tugging open your duffel. "This isn't a vacation." He leaned back on his elbows, smirking in place. "Right. Because nothing screams 'serious business' like two captains stuck in the same shoebox of a room."
You ignored him, unpacking your training gear, though your pulse betrayed you with every beat. It wasn't the closeness it was the way he filled the room, like his presence was magnetic and impossible to shake. Before you could dwell on it, the evening schedule slipped under the door. You snatched it up, scanning quickly. Strategy meeting at 9:00 p.m. Captains only.
Perfect. Just perfect.
When you glanced up, Kuroo was already watching you, golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "Don't look so tense, Y/n. It's just a strategy. Unless…" He tilted his head, grin widening. "…you're scared I'll outsmart you?"
You set the paper down slowly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Scared? Hardly. I just don't like wasting my time."
His chuckle was low, smug, and entirely too close as he stood, brushing past you to grab the schedule. Your shoulder brushed his arm for the briefest second, and the air in the room shifted, hot and charged. You stepped back immediately, jaw tight, pretending it hadn't happened.
But Kuroo had noticed. Of course he had. And the smirk he gave you then wasn't the playful one he wore on the court; it was sharper, heavier, and it made something flutter traitorously in your chest.
This week was going to be hell.
By the time the clock struck nine, your muscles were sore from the day's drills, and the chatter of your teammates in the common room made it harder to focus on the inevitable meeting ahead. You grabbed your notebook, squared your shoulders, and told yourself it was just strategy. Just volleyball. Nothing more.
When you pushed open the designated meeting room, Kuroo was already there. Of course he was. Leaning casually against the table, twirling a pen between his fingers, like he hadn't a care in the world. He glanced up the moment you stepped in, his grin immediate.
"Right on time. I was starting to think you'd lost your nerve." You set your notebook down with a deliberate thud. "Not everyone needs to waste energy on dramatic entrances." His chuckle filled the quiet room as he dropped into a chair, spinning it slightly before kicking his feet up on the edge of the table. You sat across from him, refusing to let your irritation show, and flipped open your notebook.
"Let's make this quick," you said, scribbling the first outline of a practice plan. "We need a rotation that balances both our teams. Otherwise, the coaches are going to chew us out."
"Agreed," Kuroo said easily, though the spark in his eyes betrayed his amusement. "Though I think we both know who the stronger setter is."
Your pen stilled, and you looked up slowly. "Excuse me?"
"Don't get me wrong," he added, feigning innocence as he leaned forward, elbows on the table. "You're good. Really good. But I've seen your timing. It's a little—" he waved his hand vaguely in the air, "—off."
Your jaw tightened, but you kept your voice level. "Funny. I was just about to say the same about you. Guess that means we'll both just have to prove it." He grinned, sharp and wolfish, and for a moment the room felt too small, the space between you charged with something that had nothing to do with volleyball.
Silence hung for a beat, broken only by the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Then Kuroo leaned back, arms stretching lazily behind his head. "This is going to be fun." You exhaled slowly, pressing your pen harder into the page than necessary. "For you, maybe."
But deep down, under the stubborn irritation and the determination to outshine him, there was that same flicker you refused to name. A flicker that only burned brighter the longer he looked at you like that.
And as you sketched out rotations, listening to the scratch of his pen and the low rumble of his voice beside you, one thought echoed louder than the rest: This wasn't just rivalry anymore. It was something far more dangerous.
The meeting dragged on longer than you expected. Charts, rotations, and stats blurred together, but you couldn't focus entirely on the diagrams in front of you not with Kuroo sitting just a few feet away, leaning casually in his chair, every movement deliberate and annoyingly magnetic.
"Pass the marker," he said suddenly, holding out his hand as he smirked at you.
You froze for a split second before sliding it across the table, your fingers brushing his. Electric. You pulled your hand back quickly, pretending to adjust your notebook."Careful," he said softly, voice low enough that only you could hear, "you might start enjoying being this close." Your heart betrayed you with a stuttered beat. You swallowed, gripping your pen tighter. "Don't flatter yourself."
He leaned back, eyes flicking over the strategies you'd drawn out. "Not flattering. Observing. Though… I'll admit, it's impressive. You've got good instincts." You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment, and found yourself muttering, "Thanks," before you could stop it.
The silence that followed was heavy, charged. Every time your pen moved across the page, his gaze followed. Every time he leaned forward to point out a rotation, your arms brushed. And though you tried to focus on the charts, you felt a strange heat in your chest, a dangerous, unacknowledged pull.
Hours passed. The lights dimmed, leaving only the glow of a single desk lamp illuminating the cramped space. You yawned, rubbing your eyes, and Kuroo smirked knowingly.
"Looks like we're going to be here a while," he said, stretching. "Might as well get comfortable." Your stomach twisted. Comfortable? In the same room with him? The thought alone was maddening. "I don't do comfortable," you shot back, though your voice had a little less bite than you intended.
He chuckled, standing and moving toward his bag. "Guess that's fair. Neither do I… which might make this week interesting." And in that tiny, dimly lit room, filled with scribbled rotations and scattered papers, you realized that "interesting" might just be the understatement of the century.
The clock ticked relentlessly, marking the slow crawl of time as you both leaned over the same chart, elbows occasionally brushing. Each accidental touch made your stomach flutter in a way you refused to acknowledge. Kuroo, of course, noticed. He always noticed.
"So," he said, voice deceptively casual, "looks like we've finished the rotations. Think we're done for tonight?" You exhaled and leaned back in your chair, rubbing your eyes. "Finally. I think my brain might explode if I see one more spike formation."
"Ah," he said, standing and stretching, "then we'll call it a night… assuming you don't mind sharing the room."
You blinked, heart skipping a beat. Sharing the room? That wasn't just inconvenient, it was a tactical nightmare. But before you could protest, a knock came at the door, followed by a soft, apologetic voice.
"Sorry, captains," one of the coaches said, peeking in. "The other rooms are full. You two will have to bunk together tonight." Your jaw dropped. Kuroo's grin widened in a way that made your pulse pound. "Well, this just got… interesting."
You stepped back, chest tight. "Interesting isn't the word I'd use."
He tilted his head, eyes glinting in the lamp's glow. "Really? Because I was thinking it could be fun." Before you could argue further, exhaustion won out. You both sighed, dragging your bags toward the single available beds. The room was impossibly small. One bed on each side? Wrong. Only one bed. Perfect.
You froze at the sight, hands gripping the edge of your bag. "You're joking," you muttered.
"Not at all," Kuroo said, leaning against the wall with that infuriatingly relaxed grin. "Looks like it's just you and me tonight." Your mind raced. Strategizing, calculating escape routes, anything but there was no way around it. You'd have to share the bed. With him.
Your stomach fluttered. Your pulse raced. And even though your brain screamed "enemies," a small, begrudging part of you knew one thing: this week just became a lot more complicated.