you were walking out with the miya twins, your steps a little quicker than usual, your eyes scanning the way ahead. atsumu was recounting a particularly nasty spike with loud enthusiasm, while osamu walked silently beside you, a steady, calming presence.

your luck ran out at the gate.

he was leaning against the wrought iron, school bag slung over one shoulder. suna rintarou. he wasn't looking at his phone or talking to anyone. he was just waiting. his eyes found yours immediately, the usual nonchalant mask firmly in place, but his posture was too still.