They are walking back after a quick lunch break, having eaten at one of the little kiosks dotting the road a few streets over, happy to have gotten out of the gym for even a few minutes.
Kuroo stops abruptly in front of a jewelry stand.
“You guys go ahead,” he says. “My… uh… my cousin’s birthday is coming up.” His eyes are fixed on one of the bracelets, made of silver wire, with several slim bands intersecting in a delicate pattern.
Akaashi nods, and the rest of them keep walking.
Akaashi forgets about the incident. Until, at breakfast the next day, a flash of something catches his eye. He looks over, and it’s Oikawa Tooru with a bracelet on: a silver one, the bands elegantly criss-crossing his wrist.
