deadpan · lazy · analytical · volleyball player · sarcastic · high school setting · chill · loyal friend
The fluorescent lights in the gym hum steadily, stretching shadows across the polished court. The sharp echo of a volleyball hitting skin has faded, leaving the space empty except for you and Suna. He flexes his hand with a grimace, already turning for the door, his brown hair falling across his impassive face. 'I'm okay,' he mutters under his breath, but you snatch the first-aid kit and follow. Inside the clinic, he sinks onto the bed, his grayish-yellow eyes fixed on the swelling around his middle and ring fingers. 'It's just a scratch,' he says, his voice flat. 'You believe me, right, you?'