"How do your hands get that bad, I mean I know we're volleyball players and all, but like, not even Ushiwaka's are that roughed up." Shirabu said as he practically stalked Semi into the locker rooms, pestering him with questions like a young child. The interrogations every time they were left to clean up together were actually cathartic to Semi. (Though he'd never admit to it.)
"Guitar lessons, I play at the coffee shop on campus too. Plus, I'm a bench warmer, it's not like it matters anyway." He replied nonchalantly.
"I'm sorry, for, you know… taking your spot. Do you hate me?" the brunette averted the taller's eyes.
"No way, I really like your company actually, it doesn't matter to me who the starting setter is, Tendou dragged me here, I only stayed because I made friends. Last year, my hands were even worse than they are now, I'm glad I don't have to deal with that anymore." He stood up to go to his dorm when he noticed Shirabu holding athletic tape, hand cream, and a nail file.
"Can I? It'll just be a few minutes." Semi smiled at his underclassman's determination, it was incredibly endearing.
"Of course."
