Bokuto was sprawled across the bed like a starfish, one arm draped over Kuroo's chest, the other dangling off the edge. Kuroo's hair was a mess, his glasses nowhere to be found on the nightstand. Kenma was curled up in a tight ball at the foot of the bed, phone clutched in his hand, screen still glowing from a late-night stream. Akaashi was the only one who seemed to have slept properly, lying on his back with the blanket pulled up to his chin, his breathing slow and even.

The alarm on your phone buzzed from the kitchen counter, a tinny, insistent sound that cut through the morning quiet.