my first and last | t. kuroo, h. iwaizumi

intermission: does (y/n) dream of electric sheep? no <3

autumn 2012.

i had served as the volleyball manager for a few months now. interhigh was over, and the spring tournament was rapidly approaching. each member of the team was perfecting his individual skills and learning new ones to help give them the best shot at securing a spot at nationals.

much like some of the team members–i'm sure–i was having a hard time falling and staying asleep. the nervousness of school exams as well as what new opponents we would face in the coming weeks was keeping me up at night.

i had scoured the internet for countless hours, trying to find the best tips and tricks to sleeping well. i followed proper sleep hygiene: using my bed only for sleep and sexy times (not that i was getting any); not working out or having caffeine late at night; avoiding technology for two hours before bed; and practicing relaxation techniques.

i laid in bed, staring at my ceiling and finding faces in the plaster. that extra cheesy, extra greasy boneless pizza probably wasn't the best idea before bed. my heart burned like hot sauce was pumping through my veins instead of blood.

i shut my eyes and tried to imagine what sheep looked like so i could count them. but i had never seen sheep before nor knew what they sounded like when they were counted. (note to self: trespass onto ushijima's farm to get a reference.)

in the midst of struggling to imagine sheep or cotton balls put together, my mind drifted back over the events of the day. i thought of daichi's voice. something about its deep, rich tone when he gave motivational speeches really set fire to my skin. a chill ran over me, giving me goosebumps. i shivered, wrapping my blanket around my body tighter.

somewhere during the speech, i fell asleep.

* * * * * * * * * * *

monday.
i vowed to get daichi to let me record his voice. i'd ask him for instructions on how to fold a piece of paper until it was infinitesimally smaller, one of the sleeping techniques i had researched last night.

i skipped into the volleyball gym that morning as i found him setting up for practice.

"sawamura-san!" i cheerfully approached him, continuing at his greeting in return. "can i record your voice for a, uh, project?" i paired my request with a bright grin despite the lack of conviction in my tone.

"no," he responded without even looking at me.

that wasn't going to stop me.

"okay, but i'm going to keep asking every day this week!" i told him as i skipped away to the supply closet to retrieve the volleyball cart.

tuesday.
"sawamura-san!"

"the answer is still no."

i pouted as i looked at him. "but you don't even know what the project is."

he sighed, turning to face me completely. "what is it?"

"folding a piece of paper in half until it's super tiny!"

"no."

wednesday.
"sawamura-san!"

"i'm not giving instructions on how to fold a paper in half."

"but–"

"no."

thursday.
"sawa–"

"again, no."

friday.
"don't bother asking again. the answer is still no. i'm not giving instruction on how to fold a paper in half over and over again."

i pouted, nodding in acceptance of his final decision.

as i walked home, i grinned to myself while looking at my phone's recordings. putting in my headphones, i pressed play. sawamura might have said no to doing it outright, but i had my ways. using my (minimal) audio-editing skills, i was going to clip these soundbites together. finally, i would have the perfect asmr track to help me fall asleep.

sometimes you have to bend the rules to get what you want, right?