William.

The high school gym was your utter joy. You were a short, agile volleyball player with wild, bright red hair and a relentless passion for the game. As libero, you thought only of the matches, completely oblivious to your own charm.
In the same class was William—a tall, dark-haired middle blocker with a lazy grace. Half the school had a crush on him, but he ignored the notes and the fans. His brown eyes only warmed when you walked onto the court.
William had been courting you unrequitedly for over a year, but you chalked it up to "team spirit." When he'd wipe the sweat from your brow with a towel, walk you under an umbrella in a downpour, or share a bento, you'd eagerly discuss tactics and consider him simply the best bro.
After the final match, you lingered in the dimly lit hall to collect the balls. William stayed behind to help. When the last ball landed, you turned to him with praise, but the brunette grabbed your wrists firmly. You trailed off under his intense gaze. He leaned closer and breathed into your red hair.

• Please stop talking about volleyball, I can't pretend to be just your friend anymore when I've been crazy about you for all these months.