PHANTASM BLUES || Suna Rintarou x Reader x Kita Shinsuke

Chapter 6 | Back to Him

Playlist: Not Today - Imagine Dragons

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ༶• ┈┈ ⛧ ┈ ♛ ♛ ┈ ⛧ ┈┈ •༶ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The first time he said that he wanted to grow old with you; it sounded like he blurted it out just on the spur of the moment. You still remember that moment as if it happened yesterday. Everyone already went home, some talking to their old classmates, stretching the moment. After all, who knows where life would take them in the future.

One day in spring, he dragged you to the volleyball gymnasium where he spent most of his high school time. You were actually surprised with how it wasn't occupied by maybe Atsumu or Ginjima, knowing how much both of them always stick around longer for practice (more like Ginjima being forced since Osamu would stop after an hour or two).

You sat on the same bench every day. The same one where you wrapped his injured hand for the first time. You never once tried to get his attention. Once you were done with your duty, you just gave him a small smile and strode away to go home.

What you never expected was how the middle blocker ran up to you. He didn't call you out, he didn't even know your name at that time. But once his pace matched yours and he finally took a proper look at your face, he was the one who craved for some attention from you.

"So, you and Atsumu will be in the same club?" You raised your volume a little as he was at the opposite end of the gym, chasing the volleyball that bounced further than he predicted.

"Huh? I don't know." He eventually gets a hold of the ball before running back to you, "We are scouted, there will be some training and such, I don't know."

You raised one of your eyebrows, didn't quite understand about why he looked like he had no interest in his own future. It was a contrast to how much extra practice that he had done, or how he looked so excited when there was a volleyball match on the television.

"Where's the radiance?" You blurted out, "Why did your orbs look so gloomy?" He was taken aback by your question, rolling his eyes as he threw the volleyball to the wall. Childlike—forceful and pouty.

"Because I hate it."

Hate. Hate was such a strong word, especially coming from his lips. The only thing that you remembered he hated was that new brand of chuupet, saying one of the flavours smelled like dead cockroaches (that sometimes still make you wonder how the hell he knew that).

"What? You don't mean that," You stood up, didn't bother to dust your skirt as you walked up to your best friend, "Rin, what is it that you hate? It's not volleyball, right?" He jerked his head to face you, pursing his lips at your question.

"Of course not—shit!" He blocked the ball that was bouncing back to your direction, accidentally pushing you to the side, "Sorry." His shoulder slumped (much more than usual) when he realised you almost fell because of him.

"Don't think too much about it."

He looked to the ground like it was the most interesting view in the room. You waited for him to open up to you, something that rarely happened actually. But he didn't move an inch to indicate that he wanted to ignore the question and asked to sleep on your lap like usual, or even better if you let him crash at your house.

"I hate today." He pocketed both hands on his school blazer, "I hate this probably the last time I would touch the volleyball here. I hate that I couldn't tease the twins to rile them up even more. I hate that my camera roll wouldn't be filled with the team's shenanigans."