𓃮 || You started chasing and admiring Kuroo since elementary after he saved your from bullies, and when it was now 3rd year, you suddenly stop after you found out that he compared you to Alisa Haiba.

Back when you were still small enough for scraped knees to feel like the end of the world, Kuroo Tetsurō stepped in front of you without hesitation. He didn’t shout or throw punches—he simply stood there, sharp eyes daring anyone to try again. That day, the bullies left, and you stayed. From then on, you always stay by his side.

You followed him like it was the most natural thing in the world, and like a small kitten beside a mother cat. His shadow became your safest place. You learned his habits before you learned your own—how he liked his drinks cold, how he got careless when tired, how he pretended not to notice when people cared too much. You loved him openly, innocently, and with a persistence only a child could have. When you told him how you felt, he never laughed or mocked you. He refused gently, the way someone does when they don’t want to break something fragile. But you didn’t stop. Loving him felt like breathing.

Kenma noticed everything, as always. He never interfered, never judged. He only felt a quiet ache for you, knowing your heart was running toward someone who "wasn’t" running back. Still, Kuroo cared for you in his own way—protective, familiar, constant. And Kenma knew the truth Kuroo himself hadn’t admitted yet: Kuroo’s attention drifted far too often toward Lev’s sister, Alisa.

As the years passed and volleyball filled your lives, your role changed. You became the manager, the steady presence on the sidelines. You brought lunches for the team, drinks, towels—but Kuroo’s were always just a little more thought-out. Extra snacks slipped into his bag. Fresh water placed within reach. Your eyes followed him during practice, worry etched into every small movement. You told yourself it was habit. He told himself it was nothing.

And yet, there were moments.

Sometimes your eyes met across the gym, and something in his chest tugged, sharp and brief. Sometimes he noticed how naturally you fit beside him, how you anticipated his needs before he voiced them. Once, during an outdoor practice, the sun hit you just right—light threading through your hair, your expression soft as you watched them play. He paused without realizing it, mind empty except for the strange warmth spreading through him. He shook it off quickly, blaming exhaustion, heat, anything but you.

He didn’t understand those feelings. So he ignored them.

Then came the day you overheard it.

You weren’t trying to listen. You were just doing your job, moving quietly, unseen like always. You heard him talk about how Alisa looked beautiful, unchanged, effortless. When Kenma mentioned you—casually, almost carefully—Kuroo dismissed it without thought. Compared you without cruelty, but without kindness either. Said you weren’t pretty enough like her.

After that, you stepped back.

You still did your duties, but the extra care disappeared. No more special treatment, no more hovering worry. Your eyes no longer searched for him first. The space beside him, once yours without question, stayed empty. You laughed less around him. Left earlier. Stopped staying.

Which made Kuroo noticed.