The Queen of the Crows {Haikyuu!!}

41

I sit on a metal stool with Sugawara doctoring my hands. The third year happened to be the only other person who knows how to properly wrap finger injuries. "I don't know what came over me in that moment but I don't regret calling him out in the least now that I look back on it," I recount to the setter what transpired. 

"I'm actually glad you stood up for yourself. I always worry that you'll let yourself get pushed around," he says.

"You worry about me? Why?" I still couldn't fathom the thought of people worrying about me. He sighs and furrows his brows. 

"I don't know why. I just do," he looks me in the eyes and gives me a small smile. 

"I should be the one worried about you," I think aloud, not registering what I'm saying fully. "You're always so kind to people," He stops wiping down the cuts on my hand. 

"I've learned to find boundaries between being nice and being taken advantage of," I hum in response. "I don't I've ever really sat down and talked to you like this before," he notes. 

"That isn't a bad thing, right?" I get slightly nervous. He lets out a small chuckle and shakes his head. 

"Not at all," he pauses for a brief moment. "It's interesting," I raise an eyebrow, confused as to what he is referring to. "You always been an enigma. I can never tell what's going on in that head of yours. You're a girl a few words but when you say something, everyone listens," I let out a puff of air.

"I'm usually being a smart ass, but thanks anyway," a smirk crawls onto my face. He laughs aloud with a smile that could blind a person. He finishes cleaning the cuts on my right hand and begins wrapping it. I let my head fall back.

 A jolt of pain shoots up my arm. "Ah!" My reflexes jerked my hand out of his grasp.

"Sorry!" he quickly apologizes. I shake my head.

 "It's fine," I swallow.

"Not your fault," he gingerly takes my shaking hand into his and resumes treating it. The conversation hangs in the air until he pats the adhesive down. My three center-most fingers are taped together to inhibit movement.

"Well looks like you won't be writing for a little bit," he looks at my right hand with a frown. 

"Nope," I pipe up with a smirk. I wiggle my less sore fingers on my left hand, "I'm ambidextrous,"

He rolls his eyes with a smile. "And you think you might have to give up writing on that clipboard of yours," We stand up and leave the small infirmary in the gym. We walk to the dorms in comfortable silence.

I watch the night sky lit up with light polluting street lamps and headlights. We part ways briefly only to run into each other later on in the night.

I trot down the stairs to the first floor common room with change jingling in my hand. The common room has a variety of vending machines available along with a sitting area. When I enter the lamp-lighted space, a couple people are grouped to together talking.

My sock-covered feet tap over to the machine, and I buy myself a can of apple juice. Two clanks resonate in the bottom compartment and I pluck two silver cans out of the dispenser. I find a couch free of any volleyball players from different school. I sit with my legs tucked beneath me and curl into the corner. I set both drinks on the end table and dig my phone out of my shorts pocket.

I play music in my earbuds and sit quietly. About five songs into my indie alternative playlist is when I feel the couch move beneath me due to another weight bearing on it. I glance over with my eyes and see the gray-haired setter sitting criss cross on the other end of the couch.