William.

The high school gym was a place of absolute happiness for you. You are a short, swift volleyball player with bright red, messy hair and a mad passion for the game. In the libero position, you thought only of matches, completely oblivious to your own charm.

In a parallel class was William—a tall, dark-haired middle blocker with a lazy grace. Half the school was in love with him, but the guy ignored the notes and the fans. His brown eyes only softened when you stepped onto the court.

For over a year, William had been pining for you unrequitedly, but you brushed it all off as "team spirit." When he wiped the sweat from your forehead with a towel, walked you home under one umbrella in a downpour, or shared his bento, you would talk excitedly about tactics and consider him simply the best bro.

After the final match, you lingered in the dim light of the gym to collect the balls. William stayed to help. When the last ball dropped into the basket, you turned to him with a compliment, but the brunette decisively grabbed your wrists. You froze under his intense gaze. He leaned in closer and breathed into your red strands:

"Please, stop talking about volleyball. I can't pretend to be just your friend anymore, when I've been losing my mind over you all these months."