"Look, Ai' No. It's easy," Type insists tossing the striped ball from hand to hand.

Techno crosses his arms. "I'm good at football . Not volleyball." Though he initially agreed to play, the captain never actually considered how difficult volleyball was until after the first set.

"We just hit it over the net, and they try to hit it back. That's it," Type insists. "Come on."

"You should just," Techno waves a hand back toward the net where Can and Champ are arguing cheerfully about who got to go first while Good ignores them. "Play with them and Ai' Kla."

"I picked you as my partner," Type says stubbornly.

Kengkla takes a step closer from behind, and Techno looks over at him."Please play with us, P' No?" He begs.

It's totally unfair. There's no way he can win an argument against Type, and Kengkla is practically on the verge of tears again. "With that face, ugh," Techno grumbles but holds out his hands for Type to give him the ball.

And Techno wasn't nearly as terrible at as he assumed. His natural athleticism carried him through what was a pretty simple game. Type mentioned he played it in high school, so he was better than Can and Champ. But Kengkla was surprisingly terrible. It was almost comical until it wasn't.

They lost the first two sets, but in the third set, they were able to win one. But the fourth set went by quickly, and they were down once more. Even though the fifth set was basically a formality - Champ's team had already won by simple math - Type took it just as serious as the first.

"Come on, Ai' Kla. Try and hit it when it goes behind us," Type hisses at the younger while the other team was bickering across the net.

Techno stands between them, watching the way Kengkla's shoulders are hunching in, the way his mouth is set in a tight line.

"I'm trying, P'Type." And there's something about the way Kengkla drawls over the name that makes it sound condescending. Techno quickly glances over at Type who's staring at Kengkla with narrow eyes, spinning the ball around in his hands. Techno blinks at the two of them. For some reason, it feels like a wolf and a tiger are about to fight, and he's the prey caught between them.

Techno huffs a laugh in an attempt to drain the tension. "It's okay, Ai' Kla. It's just a game. Right, Ai' Type?"

Kengkla looks at Techno. His mouth is soft, relaxed as to show no trace of anger. His stare is so startled that Techno can feel himself blush. "P'Type wants to win, so I will try to help us win," Kengkla tells him.

Type snorts beside him and shakes his head. But Techno ignores him and waves his hand toward the back. "Okay, okay. Get in your position then," He tells Kengkla with a fake smile and takes a step back while facing the net. After waiting a moment for the others to get organized, Techno holds the ball in his right hand, and with his free hand in a fist, he hits the ball below the center. It flies to the other side of the net, and Champ runs toward it.

"Mine!" Champ shouts, and with his hands clasped together, he bumps the ball into the air. When it flies to the side from his sloppy hit, Can is waiting and hits the ball with both hands above his head. "Mine now," Can adds.

The ball goes flying across the net, and Techno tenses. His hands are clasped together in front of him, ready to hit the ball, but it flies behind him toward Type. But the ball passes him to where Kengkla should be standing, but Kengkla is standing behind Techno. He sees Type shoot Kengkla a glare then begins running backward, watching the ball as it slowly drops.

But in a matter of seconds, Type loses his footing and falls to the ground, leaving the ball to drop. He manages to catch himself with his hands out and quickly flips over onto his side, reaching down to grab his ankle. "Fuck!" Type shouts loudly.

Techno doesn't hesitate to run up to him, speeding fast enough that Type reels back instinctively, clutching his ankle. "Ai' Type, are you okay?" He asks hesitantly.

Everyone besides Kengkla moves to stand around Type who looks in pain, expression darkening to anger. Techno feels his stomach drop. "I think I twisted it," Type declares, sounding angry, looking frightened. "It might be sprained." His fingers slip from his ankle to reveal a swollen and blue-tinted color, and Techno hisses.

"Shit, Ai' Type. I think you did," Techno admits and reaches down to touch the bruise when Type slaps his hand away. He pulls it back instantly and stares at Type with wide eyes.

"Don't touch it, Ai' Asshole, " Type snaps at him.

"Please don't hit P'No," Someone murmurs, almost too softly to hear, but Techno recognizes the low voice. He glances over his shoulder at Kengkla who approaches them slowly with a frown, but instead of staring at Techno, Kengkla's looking at Type.

A glare is pressed into the crease of Type's forehead; the fixed line of his mouth says he's completely focused on Kengkla. "You," Type growls. "You should've been behind me, Ai' Kla. What the hell? We told you what to do! Did you purposefully stand over there?"

Techno blinks, his eyes flickering wider as the realization hits him that Type is blaming Kengkla for his injury. "Why are you even here?" Kengkla stops in his tracks at Type's words to stand beside Techno with his head dipped down, staring at the ground. A surge of guilt hits Techno.

He sucks in an inhale, and when his fingers curl to pull Kengkla toward himself before Techno can think through his actions. It makes Kengkla take a sharp breath as his side bumps up against him. But Techno doesn't let him go, can't do anything but sling his arm over Kengkla's shoulders to avoid making things awkward by pulling away quickly.

"Ai' Type, you're being ridiculous. Ai' Kla didn't mean to let you fall. He doesn't play sports like we do," Techno tells him, but his heart is pounding, fingers tense around Kengkla's shoulder. Kengkla relaxes against him and stares up at Techno, but Techno is staring directly at Type. "Jeez, don't be so bitchy. You're the one who was taking it so seriously."

Type fixes Techno with a glare. "Ai' No," Type grates. "Why are you defending him? You didn't answer my question. Why is he even here?"

Techno can feel his cheeks flush with self-consciousness. "I invited him. He's Ai' Nic's friend, and they- uh," Techno tries to think of a lie while he spares Kengkla a glance. Kengkla is staring at him, unblinking and unmoving. Realizing he's staring now, Techno slips his hand off Kengkla's shoulder and pulls away until they're no longer touching. "Look, Ai' Kla's going through some things at home."

There is a long pause. Techno can feel his skin prickling hot, sweat dripping down his neck, and he looks away from Type to Kengkla still staring at him, eyes wide now. He's not the best liar, but when Type mumbles, "Whatever," followed by, "I feel like something's off," Techno knows it's a subject for another time.

Type shakes his head and tries to stand up. He hisses from the attempt then glares at Can and Champ standing silently next to him the whole time. Techno wonders if they were able to sense the tension. It's rare for Can to be so quiet. "Help me up, Ai' Idiots," Type growls, waving his hand to beckon them over.

"Shit, Ai' Type," Champ sighs while he crouches down to slip Type's arm over his shoulder. "We only have a few games left in the year."

Good moves to stand on the other side of Type and puts Type's arm over his shoulder. He gives Champ a nod then both of them pull the other up, and Type stands on one leg, holding the injured one in the air. "No shit," Type snaps. "Why do you think I'm so pissed?"

"No, P'Type! We need you on the team! You're the best player. We can't lose. Dammit, please," Can cries, following Champ and Good while they slowly walk with Type toward the house.

Techno lets out a sigh while he watches them argue then tilts his head sideways to stare at Kengkla; the other is watching him, his mouth dragged into a frown of concern. When Techno sighs, "Fuck me," it comes out heavy with frustration more for himself than for Kengkla.

There's the twitch of movement at the corner of his Kengkla's mouth, but it flickers away so fast Techno barely has time to see it at all. He doesn't pay it much attention and walks up to the other, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. Kengkla looked like a kicked dog. "It isn't your fault, Ai' Kla. Ai' Type always goes hard. He never knows when to relax. Like we aren't all trying to be the best at all time, but he is. He's always showing off. What a damn Ai' Bastard. Really, when will he -"

"I'm so sorry, P'No," Kengkla cuts him off, offering him may be the best impression of a sad puppy Techno's ever seen. Then Kengkla's hand finds Techno's on his shoulder, fingers brushing against the sand-covered skin, but Kengkla doesn't look like he minds. In fact, he stares down t their hands with a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth.

It steals Techno's breath, flushes a surge of heat through him. "It's okay, really," Techno tells him then snatches his hand back. "Come on, let's go inside." Techno's looking away from Kengkla's expression to gaze at the house. "Don't worry."

Techno can't take his own orders, already worried about his friend's injury and the upcoming games. Not to mention the teenager, who's apparently his boyfriend, following behind him silently up to the house.

---End of Chapter --

A/N: Thank you all soooo much! :)

How did you like it? Type is definitely getting suspicious. Btw,I have literally never played volleyball. Hopefully, I described it okay haha