A/n: hellou everybody! I originally didn't plan to make this request story longer, but as i was writing, the word count simply kept increasing even though i wasn't really even halfway into the story.. so yeah, I decided to make it a long one and split it into two parts
Anyway, I'm not done with the whole story, but I wanted to give you at least the beginning, since i already have it written.
Hope you like it! ❤️
I'm hoping to have the next part finished by next week (tops in two weeks, promise xoxo), so stay tuned!
love yall for reading and voting and commenting!! It makes my day 🥹
Okay, I'm done babbling, here's the story, enjoy!!!
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Playing on the school's volleyball team meant participating in training camp every summer break. Getting back into the rhythm after lazy, hot days, sweating your asses off trying to get back into shape, improving your techniques, but also getting even closer with your teammates were an inevitable part of it. Playing against each other, inviting another school's team for a friendly match or playing against the boys' team, seeing as your school was big enough to have both a girls' and a boys' volleybal teams.
Which C/n was also a part off.
And which was also joining the summer camp together with your girls' team. You've been training together ever since you could remember, and you were basically one big team where you were all friends. You'd often go watch each other's matches as well, observing new techniques or tricks.
And, well, in your case it meant also watching C/n play.
Seeing him jump to block the hit, arm muscles flexing, seeing his body go tense with the anticipation of a flying ball, seeing strands of hair getting stuck on his forehead due to how sweaty he got...
You yelled out in frustration as the bag you packed into simply refused to close when you tried to fit a hoodie inside. No matter how you folded the piece of fabric, the zipper wouldn't close.
It wasn't like this was your first summer camp with C/n. There was no need for you to get nervous, right? But a small voice in the back of your head nagged you. You didn't have this big of a crush on C/n before. You developed it sometime during this last year and you just weren't sure what to do with your feelings. C/n was always one of the boy players you got along with the best and you didn't want to lose this friendship.
You yelled out again as the zipper pinched your skin when you tried forcing it close. Whatever. You didn't need the hoodie anyway. The nights wouldn't get that cold seeing as it was still summer and you'd probably never even take the hoodie out from the bag. Shrugging your shoulders, you threw the hoodie onto the bed and neatly zipped up your bag.
You were all ready to go. Nerves were playing war in your belly. The thought of spending the whole camp in his proximity now that you couldn't even look at him without blushing suddenly felt too scary and intimidating. Maybe you could try avoiding him as much as possible, you tried to reassure yourself. Spend as much time with your teammates, get your mind off of him...
Your mom honked the car in front of your house, reminding you it was time to go. She was supposed to drive you to school, where a bus would wait for everyone to take to the training camp. Stumbling with the heavy bag down the stairs, you grabbed one more biscuit and, while stuffing it into your mouth with one hand, the other holding on to the straps of your bag, ran outside into the sun and blindingly blue sky and a stark red car of your mom.
---
Almost the whole team was already present at the school's parking lot. The boys were doing a little worse, with only half of them present as of the moment you arrived. There still were fifteen more minutes until the scheduled departure of the bus, big enough to drive both teams at once. The coaches had, of course, the luxury of going there by car, you players however had to share the bus.
As you hopped on and looked down the aisle in search of a free seat, an outstretched hand caught your eye.
"Y/n! Here, saved you a seat next to the best player on the team," C/n said smugly while patting the cushioned bus seat next to him. You couldn't blame him - firstly, you knew he only meant it as a joke and, secondly, you did realize that he really was one of the best among you while watching him play. The constant praise from the coaches also did nothing to stop his ego.
You plopped down on the seat, shoulders brushing.
Well, there goes avoiding him, you thought while your heart skipped a beat. Although you shouldn't have been surprised - you'd often sit together if both teams were traveling together.
Because he considered you a good friend, a voice nagged in the back of your mind, biting, killing the flutter in your stomach.
"Ready for camp?"
It took a while to register his words.
"Huh? Yeah, I guess," you shrugged, brain lagging. "Definitely looking forward to running at five and slipping into the mud again," you continued, trying to save the response.
His shoulders shook as he chuckled. "It was the best thing that happened that summer."
"Glad you enjoyed it," you said, trying to appear bitter about it while fighting a smile threatening to spread your lips. It was indeed funny, in retrospect. In that very moment last camp when you went for the regular run in the morning, right after it had rained and the grass was all muddy, you slipped and fell face first into a puddle of mud, you wanted to fig yourself a hole in the ground and bury yourself inside. You were all dirty and brown and sticky and your coach still made you finish the run like that.
Your coaches were merciless.
It had turned into a fond memory, though, something you can now laugh about. Iconic, even, if you must.
The chaotic chitter chatter of everyone catching up soon filled your ears. Songs were sung aloud and encouragements were yelled out. Jokes were shared and photos taken.
You turned kids again.
---
Solid ground and fresh air, finally.
After breathing in the stuffy, hot air of the bus, your lungs filled with the breezy evening air of summer. Your eyes searched the familiar sports area with a sense of reminisce. The forested hill where you went for obligatory runs each morning, the playing fields where you held your practice matches. The area with the little wooden cabins you stayed in in pairs, surrounded by grass that got slippery when you all played tag in the rain. The communal showers at the edge of this accommodation, with no hot running water, only heated by the sun to a lukewarm temperature. And the ring of freshly cut grass between all these cabins, where you'd always drag your worn out mattresses the last night of camp to all watch the stars together.
Even though you all had been good friends on the team, training camp always managed to make you even closer. Sure, you hated the waking up part, or the actual training and sweating your ass of part, but being able to be carefree teenagers again in the moments between was what you adored.
It smelled of youth and joy and sweat and a sprained ankle with a bit of tears.
Everyone huddled around the bus, bumping into you and pulling you out of the trance, ready to claim their bags from the bus's luggage storage. After finally managing to get hold of your own, you joined the couple others who were already waiting at the entrance of the area.
You all walked in together, stopping on the circle of grass between the cabins.
"Time to decide your roommates, everyone!"
Yes, the ritual. Choosing your own roommates was frowned upon by the coaches and they always turned it into some kind of a game to decide randomly. Claiming it fosters team spirit and cooperation. Plus, they didn't bother splitting girls and boys, although you had the luck of rooming with one of the boys only once before. But you had to admit this way of getting your roommate sometimes turned two people, who had never even spoken together, into best friends in the week that they've roomed together. Unexpected friendships often striked up this way, making you bunch an even greater team. You could change your roomie if you really didn't like the person assigned to you because of the game, but no one had actually ever done that, since none of you had any problems with someone else from both teams.
Excited, muffled whisper filled the air. Everyone was wondering, what kind of a silly game will decide your roommates this year? The coaches always came up with a new sorting game each year, which was logical since they wanted to avoid roomie repetition. They also made it a point to make it somehow personal, to make you know each other even better.
"Your roommate will be the person with their birthday closest to you!"
Two things happened simultaneously after the statement. One, everyone groaned at the choice of game. Needing a functioning brain and the ability to add and subtract small numbers was not something a lot of you could pride on. And two, a dull thud echoed as everyone let go of their bags, dropping them on the ground, to start asking for birthdays.
You, though, clutched your bag tighter in your hand.
Your eyes met his, finding him staring at you already.
You had never deemed such a simple fact to be so important before.
You and C/n shared the same birthday.
He smiled at you, picked up his bag and began to walk off to one of the little cabins in the distance. It was a cue for you to follow. Running around the ever-diminishing crowd on the grass as more people paired up together, you tried to catch up to the boy you were destined to spend the following days and nights with, the one you planned to avoid.
But fate simply had other plans.
---
"So, which bed do you want?"
"This one," you replied and threw your bag down on it. C/n plopped down on his bed, sighing in content as his head hit the pillow.
"Gosh, I'm exhausted," he muttered, eyes closed already.
"Just wait till tomorrow morning when the coaches barge in at five to make us run," you laughed, trying to appear as cool as a cucumber. In your head, you were panicking about staying with C/n.
"Yeah, how I missed those early runs," he said sarcastically. Then, after a pause, "hey, Y/n?"
You turned from the halfway unpacked bag towards him, "yeah?"
"I'm really glad you aren't even a day younger than me, alright?"
Your brain stalled and you were unable to form a response to his sentence. You were, however, spared, as C/n suddenly jumped up, claiming he needs to get some food or else he'd starve, and left. These words were barely registered by your brain, though, which was still stuck on his previous sentence.
Glad I'm not younger than him.
Glad we share the same birthday.
Glad to be my roommate.
---
UP, UP, UP!" The door to your cabin flew open, letting the stuffy inside air be replaced with the fresh morning chill and the early, shy rays of sunlight. "Be ready in ten to meet outside!"
The coach ran off to wake up another pair, leaving your doors wide open. You barely managed to keep your eyes open as you struggled to form a thought, glancing at the clock to find it is five in the morning, which did not surprise you at all. Your legs fought to keep you upright as you stumbled to the bathrooms at the edge of the sleeping area, meeting equally half-asleep team members brushing their teeth and splashing their faces with cold water. None of you so much as bothered to utter a word, conserving your energy for trying to stay awake.
It was like this every year, after all. None of you even tried to cheer up, anymore.
When you returned back to the cabin, you found C/n still in his bed.
"Hey, you gotta wake up," you said aloud to him, shaking his shoulders. If one dared to oppose the coaches' instructions, they would have to deal with even worse punishments. The boy groaned in protest, hair curled around his head on the pillow, his eyes fluttering open just the tiniest bit.
"No," he barely mumbled before you shoved him upwards into a sitting position, all the while trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach that turned feral after seeing him so sleepy and pouty. And also after seeing that he, in fact, did not wear a shirt to sleep.
"C'mon, C/n, you know you gotta get up," you urged, shaking him some more.
"I know," he yawned. Then glanced at his phone. "Still have four minutes, though."
"Then go wash up, I want to change." This time, you practically yeeted him off the bed in an attempt to get him going. His skin felt hot under your hands as you pushed him outside.
"Okay, okay, 'm going now."