I do not own Haikyū!

The sound of her laughter drowns out the patter of rain against the shop's window, the scent of coffee beans engulfing them as they sit across from each other at a small table. It's warm inside, the chill of the outside long forgotten with nothing but the lingering dampness on his shoulder.

She smiles at him, dark brown eyes the color of the hot coffee in his hands. Her irises burn through his body, the ceramic singing his fingertips. It's a heat he welcomes, cherishes.

"I really didn't take you as the sugary-sweet drink type, Chitōse-san. You always seemed like a green tea kind of girl to me."

"Oh? Well, I'm just full of surprises aren't I."

He grins, teeth in full view as he drinks her in with hazel eyes, while she drinks from her glass, lips coming away with whipped cream before a pink tongue delicately licks it away.

"I suppose you are."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Not at all."

The sound of cheers goes off on the screen, colorful lights flashing and a bright red K.O. appearing in big letters over his character.

Tetsurō sighs for the umpteenth time that day, the controller in his hands going slack at yet another loss. "I can't play this character for shit."

"You can't play any character for shit," the brown hair boy to his left comments.

"That's not true. I'm really good at Meta."

"Everybody's good at Meta."

"Maa- maa, no need to be so mean, Kenma."

"Not mean, just point out the obvious."

"Yes, well," Tetsurō says while dropping the controller beside him on the comforter of his friend's bed, stretching his back with his arms overhead, relishing in the pull on his stuff muscles, "just because you decimate at this gain doesn't mean that we all do. Can't you go easy on me at least once?"

Kenma lets himself fall backwards on his mattress, his hands still wrapped around his own controller resting on his stomach. "Can't you try to get better at least once?"

Tetsurō guffaws. "I do try!"

"Hmm."

The messy-hair boy lightly smacks the side of his friend's thigh. "Just you wait. You will meet your match one of these days and I'll be there to laugh when you do."

"Oh, the horror," Kenma deadpans.

Tetsurō grins, falling back alongside Kenma. He flicks his bangs away from his face, the hair falling right back over in the same position and tickling his skin. He rubs at the spot.

Maybe I'll cut my hair one of these days. . .

They lay there in silence, the sound of the gaming console's motor reverberating as a soft hum in the small bedroom.

I wonder if Chitōse-san would notice if I cut it. What if she doesn't like it though? Does she even like my hair as it is now?

"Why do you sound like a disgruntled cat," Kenma asks, breaking Tetsurō out of his thoughts.

"Disgruntled- disgruntled cat? What are you talking about?"

Kenma huffs. "You were making these weird noises right now."

Tetsurō turns his head towards the other boy, Kenma still looking straight ahead at his ceiling. "I wasn't making weird noises."

"You were making weird noises. What's wrong?"

"I-"

He was making weird noises? He didn't even notice. He was too busy thinking about her to pay much attention to anything else, much less pay attention to what he was doing outwardly in response to his own internal musings.

He didn't know what to say, what to tell Kenma.

Was he embarrassed?

No. Not embarrassed. Tetsurō can trust his best friend with anything and everything; has trusted him with anything and everything. But for some reason, the lanky boy didn't know how to get the words out that he was thinking about a pretty girl with long brown hair and dark eyes that he could get lost in and never come out of.

It's not like the two boys talk much about girls. It's always been about volleyball this or video games that. It's been about Tetsurō's grandparents and Kenma's mom. About visiting their favorite konbini to grab a few snacks or listening to a new song that one of them discovered and the other one just had to check it out.

Girls though. That isn't a topic they ever really broach.

Sure, Tetsurō has mentioned them before in some small, insignificant way. And yes, he's mentioned Chitōse to Kenma before, especially after the incident with her on the first day they walked to his home together. But. . . but he's not talked to Kenma about Chitōse like this. That he thinks about how her small hand delicately gripped his arm on the train, the warmth he felt coming off her body. How he caught faint whiffs of her shampoo and the scent of coffee beans in her hair after the rain let up and they walked home together from the cafe. That she's always smiling and laughing, and the stretch of her lips is so contagious that his own mouth mirrors hers.

"It's nothing really," Tetsurō mumbles.

That gets Kenma to turn his head from staring at the ceiling to staring into Kuroo's eyes, hazel on hazel; eyes so similar yet so different, one a shade closer to brown and the other closer to golden. It's those golden, hazel eyes searching into Tetsurō's darker hazel that prompts Kuroo to open his mouth without any words needing to be spoken.

"Chitōse-san. . . I was-" the dark hair boy pauses, takes a breath. "I was thinking about her."

"Ah- I figured."

Tetsurō furrows his brow. "What do you mean you 'figured.'"

Kenma shrugs before turning back around to look at the ceiling, leaving Kuroo to stare after his friend. "You haven't exactly stopped thinking about her since you two got paired up for that project you had."

Tetsurō shoots up from the bed, sitting up so he can look at the brown-hair boy better. "I have not!"

Kenma grins up at him. "Sure."

Kuroo pouts at him. "Have not."

Kenma's grin shifts into a smaller smile, eyes moving away from Tetsurō's back to the ceiling, past the ceiling. "Okay."

The brown-hair boy says nothing more, seemingly lost in thought.

"Wha- You can't just say 'okay' and leave it at that!"

His friend sighs, still not looking at him. But he does speak up.

"You've just been different lately. More. . . I don't know. . . Thoughtful? Like, you're constantly thinking back on something, and you've been doing that since that day."

Tetsurō wants to refute him. Tell Kenma that he's wrong and he's over-analysing Kuroo's own thoughts and actions. But he can't. He can't tell Kenma that he hasn't been doing that and Chitōse hasn't been on his mind since the first day of their project. Because damn it if Kenma isn't right.

Since then, it seems like Tetsurō can't get her out of his head. Can't get the sound of her voice out of his ears no matter how many times he cleans them out, cotton swabs coming away clean and dumped uselessly in the trash bin. Can't get the sight of her smile out of his eyes no matter how hard he rubs them, eyelids becoming irritated with no imaginary lash stuck behind them. Can't get the smell of her shampoo, her body spray, her lotion, her, out of his nose no matter how many times he blows into a tissue. Can't get the taste of sakura out of his mouth, the feeling of melted whip cream on his lips no matter how many times he wipes it with a napkin, no residual left over drink tainting his flesh.

She giggles, "That's a relief. It'd dishearten me if you did think it was bad."

"I don't think anything about you can possibly be bad," Tetsurō says before clenching his mouth shut, surprising himself with his words. He hadn't meant to say that, hadn't meant to say it like that.

Chitōse gazes at him, her cheeks tinted pink, the edge of her lower lip softly bitten between teeth. She looks down, away from him, before coming back up to his eyes. She releases the nibble of her lip, parting her mouth before closing it.

She's looking at him like. . . like something. She's looking at him in a way she hasn't looked at him before and it makes his mouth go dry and his heart to hammer in his chest. But the look is gone when she opens her mouth again.

"I didn't take you for a coffee kind of guy."

He thinks the feeling in his stomach isn't sour from coffee but disappointment, but that too is gone when he opens his own mouth, just like the look she gave him disappeared at her own sentence.

"One sugar, dash of cream. Dark, but not too dark," he grins.

She hums, a small smile playing on her lips. "So you've never tried something as delicious as a Sakura Pearl before?"

"Can't say I have."

"In all fairness," she says, "I hadn't either until today. But cherry blossom is one of my favorite flavors in general so I figured I'd like this."

"Sweet but not too sweet huh?"

She laughs, "It's actually pretty sweet."

"I guess I'll just have to try it one of these days to see for myself."

She pauses, looking down at her mug before looking back at him. Chitōse holds the ceramic out to him, fingers curled around the handle and base of the cup. "You can try it now. . . If you'd like of course."

Tetsurō can feel his jaw slacken, lips parting slightly as he takes in the mug, white cream with spots of pink from the hot liquid content slowly seeping through the topping, to her slim fingers with short, clean nails up to small wrists that meet the sleeves of her uniform blazer; his eyes crawling up the length of her arm, her shoulder, neck, chin, lips, nose, eyes.

Eyes that are dark, yet with no darkness in them, framed by long eyelashes that flutter once, twice.

"Sure," he says. He didn't think he had it in him to say one simple word, but he does.

She smiles as his hands, large, calloused, reaches for the cup from her, gently taking it from her grasp before he takes a sip.

It's sweet. Really sweet. The whip cream cold against his upper lip, tongue warm from the hot cherry blossom flavored broth, thick and creamy in his mouth.

He swallows and it's warm all the way down his throat and into his stomach, but not before taking a detour straight to his heart.

"It's good."

Tetsurō is not at the cafe though. Not with Chitōse Akiko, his too kind classmate that lives down the street from him and Kenma. No. He's at Kenma's house and his friend isn't looking at the ceiling anymore but straight at him and he thinks he probably stayed quiet for too long.

"I just did it right now, didn't I," Tetsurō asks.

"Yup," is Kenma's response.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well that-" Tetsurō takes in a shuddering breath. "Guess that was answer enough."

Kenma snorts. "You think."

"Apparently I think a lot."

The comment makes both of them grin.

"Dumbass," Kenma quips.

"Rudeass," Tetsurō quips back.

"At least I don't lose every round at Smash."

"At least I can smash."

"Disgusting. Get out."

Tetsurō cackles. "I'm joking, I'm joking."

The look that he gets in response has him laughing even harder.

Almost 2k words! Definitely longer than my other chapters in this story. HOWEVER I thought about writing more, but I thought maybe it should be a gradual process of getting the chapters closer to 5k? What do you all think? Should I leave them closer to 2k or do you want them even longer than this?

Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed! Special thanks to everyone who has reviewed especially. I do read all of your comments (and I read them multiple times because they make me so happy). That being said, to those who review, do you want me to mention you all in the ANs or in PMs? Or is my silent gratitude enough? Let me know!