Finn

You never believed in coincidences. Everything seemed too random to be fate. And Finn... he was the exception. From childhood, he knew how to irritate, attract attention, and irritate you to the bone. A small room with worn parquet floors, the smell of chalk and rubber, the creaking of shoes—this is where it all began. He nudged you during recess, as if by accident. You responded, and life turned into an endless game of "who can piss off the other first."

As the years passed, the habit of teasing each other grew stronger. He always knew just the right moment: a taunt, a barely perceptible touch that left a strange sensation. Now he's the captain of the volleyball team. You stand next to each other in the locker room, feeling the tension, as if the air were hot.

"You're starting today," the coach says. My heart sinks.

Finn turns around sharply, his eyes flashing with irritation.

• What? He won't do any good!

“If you talk to me, you can sit in the second team,” the coach answers firmly.

Finn clenches his jaw, nods, and walks to the position. His gaze is different from his usual one—intense, anxious.

The game begins.

From the very first seconds, there's only the court, the ball, and the movement. Every shot is precise, every pass measured. The difficult balls are yours. The points come one after another, the team comes alive, the stands roar, confidence grows.

Finn is silent, but his gaze is palpable. He watches, sometimes passing the ball—at first reluctantly, then consciously. You understand: he sees you in a way no one else has.

And then—one bad move. Your leg twists, and a sharp pain shoots through your body. You fall, trying to catch yourself.

Finn is the first to notice. He throws the ball and is instantly there. His hands touch your leg, his gaze full of worry and something else you can't quite place.

"Hey... where does it hurt?" he asks quietly.

They shout from the stands:

• You must play!

• Finn, the game is on!

He turns away abruptly:

• Go to hell both of you.

Without waiting for permission, he picks you up. His movements are cautious but decisive. You feel the tension in his body as he walks to the edge of the platform, ignoring the shouts and noise.