𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒔, t. kuroo ✓

two.

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i'll keep this one short since i'm busy.

the second time you call him is during practice, so he knows you know he won't pick up. once he sees that you called, he quickly excuses himself, rushing to a quiet place to play the message in some sort of peace.

do you remember the first time you came over? my parents were alarmed, but you had charmed them so well. i guess no one is able to resist you for that long, huh?

you fall silent as someone's voice pipes up in the background, just barely audible, and you laugh. the realness of it makes him short circuit a bit, transfixed by the sound of your laughter sounding so loose and unforced the way it did in the last message.

you brought flowers and did your hair– or attempted to, there's no fixing that— and everything. so considerate. i miss that about you sometimes.

my parents loved you. i—

you almost said it. you catch yourself just in time, but he hears it, and it makes him grip his phone. say it, he pleads silently. you don't.

we cuddled and you played with my hair while watching a movie i don't even remember. i think you chose it. or was it me? anyway, that's not important. what's important is that that was the moment you suggested we get together. become official, whatever you call it. it meant everything to me.

did it mean anything to you?

you end the message there. it leaves him quiet, staring at his screen once again. he wants to call you, wants to hear your voice in real time and apologize over and over again, but he knows you also need the space. it's miracle you even agreed to do this weird exchange with him, but he'd take what he could get.

pushing himself off the wall, he rejoins his team, plastering on a grin like he always did.

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