Archive of Our Own

The weather is particularly chilly that day. It’s October, and still just starting to get cold. It had been pretty toasty when the sun was beating down with full ferocity, but of course by the time practice is over, the sun is down and the air has cooled. Atsumu gives his past self silent thanks for remembering to pack a sweatshirt in his bag, because he almost feels like he could wear it over his regular track jacket.

This type of weather is almost Atsumu’s favorite. He prefers the snow, because snow comes with happiness and hugs and the smell of cinnamon. However, he can’t deny the growing comfort he’s been finding in slowly cooling weather and watching the leaves slowly turn more varied in color. He thinks that perhaps fall feels like side hugs and the clinking of dishes in a coffee shop and the smell of pumpkin bread.

Practice ends at the normal time, and as usual, Shouyou begs for someone to set to him. How he never gets exhausted despite constant practice, Atsumu will never understand. This doesn’t stop Atsumu from setting for him every single time, though.

There’s several resounding wham ’s as Shouyou successfully spikes ball after ball. Atsumu’s been trying to perfect his backwards set, in which he sets behind himself while in the air. His head is starting to hurt from looking basically upside down for the extra hour he and Shouyou have been practicing. He can feel the growing pressure behind his eyes, and sits down on the floor for a moment to give his face a gentle rub.

“You alright, Atsumu?” Shouyou calls to him from the net, where he has just collected the last of the balls he had spiked.

“Nah, I’m gonna die, Shouyou,” Atsumu laughs softly, his eyes still closed. “I’m gettin’ a headache, so I think I’m gonna stop here for tonight.”

“Aww, alright.” Atsumu knows Shouyou’s fine with this, because even Shouyou knows that he needs a break sometimes, even though he would rather die than admit that.

Atsumu pulls himself up with a small groan. “You need any help finishing up?”

“Nope, just finished collecting the balls. Just gotta get my bag and we can head out.” Shouyou shoots Atsumu one of those giant, world-turning grins. Atsumu turns to get his own bag in hopes that his heart skipping a beat doesn’t show on his face.

Considering they now practice in a gym that is meant solely for volleyball, the two don’t have to worry about taking the net apart or mopping the floor. The floor is now proper volleyball material, not the wood floor that every high school had.

They do, however, still have to turn the lights off, which Atsumu does as he watches Shouyou sprint towards the exit where Atsumu is standing. He quickly changes his shoes, and takes a moment to inhale a deep breath of the now freezing air outside of the gym. The dim glow of the streetlights is calming, and already Atsumu can feel his headache slipping away.

“Ah fuck, it’s cold out here.” Shouyou jumps from foot to foot, somehow changing his shoes in the process. He continues jumping around even as he tries to put his shoes away in his bag.

“Yup.” Atsumu starts unzipping his bag to acquire the sweatshirt he now very much wants to wear. “That’s why my genius self packed an extra layer this morning.”

“Gahhh, that would’ve been smart.” Shouyou shakes his head. “I’ll just have to sprint the whole way home.” 

With a start, Atsumu realizes that Shouyou is simply wearing the t-shirt he was practicing in. He is at least wearing his track pants, but those can only do so good when the main part of the body is still cold. 

“Where’s your team jacket, you idiot?” Atsumu can’t help but stare at him, dumbfounded.

“Oh, it’s in the wash. I didn’t get the chance to wash it before today.” Shouyou bounces on the balls of his feet, hands in his pockets, staring back at Atsumu over his shoulder. “Figured I’d rather be a little cold than incredibly stinky.”

Atsumu almost says something, but then realizes that he probably would have done the exact same thing. “Still, you can’t be runnin’ all the time just to keep yourself warm. You’ll pass out eventually.” 

Atsumu finishes digging around in his bag, and throws the sweatshirt he had been planning to wear at Shouyou. “At least wear this. Can’t have ya gettin’ sick on me right before a game, now can I?” He says this with a smirk, but he can feel the lack of mischievousness in his own eyes. He knows he’s being genuine right now; he really doesn’t want Shouyou getting sick. He’ll be damned if he shows an ounce of sincerity though.

Shouyou blinks, and stops bouncing for a fraction of a second. “Uh, sure. Thanks.”

As Shouyou throws the sweatshirt on over his head, Atsumu realizes exactly which one he had grabbed. The giant white letters of “INARIZAKI VBC” and the #7 stick out like a sore thumb on the black fabric of the sweatshirt, which is falling off of Shouyou’s much smaller body. It almost fits him on the shoulders, but Shouyou’s arms are much shorter than Atsumu’s have ever been, so the sleeves hang past Shouyou’s fingertips. He, quite frankly, looks a little ridiculous.

Atsumu brings a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Sorry it’s a little big on you. It’s better than nothing, though.”

Shouyou brings his arms up in front of his chest, making the ridiculously long sleeves even more apparent. Atsumu can feel himself getting red and has to stifle another giggle because god damn he looks so cute in my jacket. 

“I don’t mind! It’s super comfortable. I prefer my sweatshirts a little big anyways.”

Atsumu hums in agreement. “Guess that’s lucky then. Text me when you get home so I know you didn’t get lost or some shit.” He adjusts his now lighter bag on his shoulder. 

“Nah, I know my way home by now. If I got lost I’d just die of shame instead of telling you.” 

Atsumu shakes his head. “See ya tomorrow, Shouyou. Don’t be late for the bus.”

“When have I ever been late? I beat you every single time.” Shouyou flashes him another one of those grins.

Atsumu snorts, and turns away. “Don’t jinx it now.”

He’s praying that Shouyou blames the red in his face on the cold air.

—

Atsumu drags himself out of bed at 5am the next morning. The MSBY team bus is set to leave promptly at 7am to head to a game in a neighboring city. It’s not a far drive, but it is exponentially easier to travel as a team instead of trying to coordinate 20 different people and their arrival points. Therefore, the team goes together to avoid giving their managers any further stress.

Atsumu is a morning person. He had packed his game bag last night and therefore has no reason to be up before 6am. It’s not like he lives far from the gym either -- it’s maybe a 20 minute walk, if he’s sluggish. And yet, here he is, awake before the sun, doing his morning stretches in front of the sliding glass door of his apartment. Maybe he’ll get lucky and be able to see the sunrise today.

Wow, that sounded pretty old man-like of you, Atsumu. 

He really does enjoy the sunrise, though. It’s like a genuine fresh start to the day. There is no stronger calming effect than that of the morning’s first rays settling across your face. Atsumu finds he also enjoys people who remind him of the sun, as they have similar effects on him. He hasn’t met very many, but he is hyper aware of joyous people when he does meet them, and becomes uncharacteristically careful around these people that are so precious to him. His grandmother was one of these sunshine-y people.

Atsumu checks the time as he finishes his last stretch. 5:23. That’s plenty of time to make breakfast and grab some last minute trip snacks from the convenience store a few blocks away.

With a grunt, Atsumu stands up, does a few final trunk twists, and heads into his tiny kitchen to begin his breakfast.

—

To his annoyance, Atsumu discovers that he’s the last member of the team to arrive. He checks his phone to make sure he’s not somehow late, and he’s not -- it’s currently 6:48. The fact that Sakusa, the man that arrives exactly on time to things in order to spend the least amount of time in “contaminated air,” somehow beat Atsumu there is even more annoying.

“Good morning, ‘Tsumu!” Shouyou’s loud voice rings across the mostly empty gym, and Atsumu can feel the eyes of their teammates land on the two of them.

“Uh. Mornin’, Shou. ” Atsumu drips the nickname with a lilt, as if he were asking a question. Because he is, in fact, asking a question: where the hell did the nickname come from?

Without skipping a beat, Shouyou answers the unasked question. “Thought I should start calling you something else, since we’re close now and all.”

Atsumu blinks. What is Shouyou even talking about? Giving someone a jacket when they’re cold amounts to that much of an increase in closeness? He can feel his face start to turn red. “Uh, okay. We’ve been close though. Just Atsumu is fine.”

Off to Atsumu’s left, Meian clears his throat quite loudly. “Miya, Hinata - you guys got something to tell the rest of us?” Bokuto snickers.

Atsumu gives the captain a confused face. Meian stares intensely back at him. A glance to Shouyou reveals the spiker’s smirk, and his eyebrows are raised, as if he’s taunting Atsumu. Now Atsumu’s even more confused.

He’s saved from having to say anything by their coach announcing the arrival of the bus, and everyone turns their attention back to their luggage.

Shouyou’s the first one to hop on the bus, and he parks himself in an aisle seat about halfway down the aisle. Atsumu gets on next, and can’t resist the opportunity to gripe. “Oi, how come you choose the aisle seat first? The first one on gets the window seat, this is a fact, Shouyou.” Atsumu shimmies past Shouyou anyways, and takes the window seat next to him. 

The bus fills with a low murmur as the rest of the team gets on. Bokuto makes a beeline for the single seat across the aisle from Atsumu and Shouyou, and gives Shouyou a bright grin once he sits down. To prevent the upcoming headache of hearing the two of them talk the whole ride, Atsumu puts in his earbuds, and presses play on whatever was last playing. It’s not quite loud enough to cover the voice of their captain calling for Shouyou so they can go over some strategies, though.

A finger pokes Atsumu’s shoulder almost as soon as Shouyou stands up. Atsumu turns his head and meets Bokuto’s very excited face. He pulls one earbud out, knowing it’ll be way easier to let Bokuto talk instead of trying to ignore him.

“So! When did you and Shrimpy start dating?” is absolutely not what he was expecting to come out of Bokuto’s mouth. 

Atsumu blinks. He can feel the heat rising to his face, no matter how much he wills it not to. “Excuse me?” Where the hell did Bokuto get that idea?

“Dude. Don’t try to lie.” 

“Where did you even get that idea?” Atsumu sputters. He’s glancing between Bokuto and Shouyou, who is towards the front of the bus, leaning over Meian’s seat, presumably watching a recorded game on the captain’s iPad.

Bokuto gives the blonde an exasperated look. “Staying after practice. The nicknames. He’s literally wearing your clothes, Miya.” 

Wait, what? Atsumu whips his head around to the red-headed spiker, and realizes with a start that Bokuto’s right. Shouyou was up there wearing a ridiculously large black sweatshirt that just so happened to say MIYA in big white letters across his shoulders, above the #7. It was the same damn sweatshirt he had been given by Atsumu last night. Bokuto cackles, and Atsumu knows that his face is probably redder than it’s ever been. Why would he wear that sweatshirt? Was he even paying attention?

“Okay listen, this is a misunderstanding.” Bokuto’s continued laughter makes Atsumu fully aware of just how much he looks like a man in denial. “He was cold last night, idiot didn’t pack a jacket. I had an extra. That’s all.” Bokuto throws his head backwards, apparently finding Atsumu’s struggles the funniest thing on the planet.

“Alright, sure, Miya. We all know you’d jump Shou the first chance you get anyways.”

Atsumu glares at the older man, offense showing on his face. 

“Hah?!” Atsumu’s voice cracks to an octave he’s never heard before, but he really doesn’t care about that right now. He’s trying so hard not to jump out of his seat to hit the cackling Bokuto that he doesn’t even notice the return of his seatmate.

“Uh….you guys okay? Do I need to call Akaashi?” Shouyou looks between his two friends, not sure what to do.

Bokuto takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to stop his laughter. He fails miserably, tears welling in his eyes. “Nah. I’m fine. Just go calm your setter down, Shrimpy.”

Atsumu pretends he doesn’t hear the possessive pronoun. Instead, he huffs and turns to face the window, reaching to put his earbud back in. He doesn’t get the chance to. Shouyou rests his hand on Atsumu’s wrist, causing the blonde to turn towards him.

“You sure you’re okay? You’re a little red, ‘Tsumu.” Shouyou’s looking up at him with wide eyes. Atsumu feels his heart skip a beat. He wishes that Shouyou would stop with the nickname at the same time that he wishes for Shouyou to never stop using the nickname.

“Yeah. Fine,” Atsumu mutters. “Bo’s ‘bout to get his shit rocked, though.” 

Bokuto snorts, and Shouyou looks confused once again.

“Seriously, Shou. Don’t worry.” The nickname slips out before Atsumu can stop himself, but the smaller boy doesn’t seem to notice. “We’re fine, just a little friendly debate.”

Shouyou appears to accept this, and Atsumu releases a silent sigh of relief. 

He puts his earbuds in and stares out the window for the rest of the ride, silently begging for no one else to talk to him. Especially not about Shouyou. He’s not sure how much more his heart can take. If Atsumu’s weak spot for the spiker wasn’t obvious before, it sure is now, and he’s a little worried that his ability to keep his feelings under control is diminishing. 

Thankfully, the ride home from the game was much calmer, as the team was exhausted and slept most of the way back.

Atsumu had held light conversation with Shouyou and his friend Kenma, who he had video called at the beginning of their return home. Somehow Shouyou managed to keep his voice low enough to not greatly disturb their half-asleep bus mates. 

When Shouyou’s head landed on Atsumu’s shoulder to sleep on, Atsumu didn’t dare move. He adjusted slightly, sinking down in his seat a bit to make his shoulder a better angle for Shouyou’s much shorter body. 

Atsumu prayed that the lack of light in the bus hid the fact that he leaned his own head against Shouyou’s, and pretended that he wasn't smiling when orange curls tickled the side of his nose.

-x-

MSBY had won that game, so three days later, Atsumu drags himself to their gym to wait for the bus once more. 

He’s the second one to arrive, this time, around 6:20. He was running out of stretches to do at home, and figured he’d just nap at the gym when he got there. However, a red-haired spiker had beaten him to the prime napping spot. There’s a padded bench that belongs in the gym’s small medical office that somehow is never actually in the medical office, and for the past few weeks, it’s been sitting in the front lobby right next to the gym’s doors. It’s strongly suspected that Bokuto put it there, but nobody can actually prove it.

Shouyou looks peaceful, for once. He’s sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees, leaning against the wall behind him. He’s got the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head, and it’s way too big and covers almost to his eyes. Atsumu realizes he’s still wearing that damn Inarizaki VBC sweatshirt, and knows he’s about to be in for yet another interrogation. He doesn’t really care at the moment, though -- he’s far too busy taking in the view. 

Atsumu carefully sits on the side of the bench that Shouyou isn’t using, in a desperate attempt not to wake the younger boy up. Atsumu knows he won’t be able to sleep at all unless he’s on that bench, as the gym’s lobby is uncomfortable enough as it is. He sets his bag on the floor and leans it against the legs of the bench. Leaning his head back against the wall, Atsumu closes his eyes, and wishes he had a pillow.

At some point in his nap, he feels like he’s gotten a pillow. It’s fluffy and smells like sunshine.

—

“Yo what the fuck. ” The loud disgust in Sakusa’s voice is what finally awakens Atsumu. He groggily opens his eyes and tries to sit up, only then noticing the weight on top of his head.

It’s Shouyou’s head, he realizes as he stares through the orange wisps of hair in front of his eyes. He’s laying on Shouyou’s shoulder, and Shouyou’s head is leaning on top of his. Atsumu sits up immediately, feeling his face heat up rapidly. He finds himself staring at the redhead in surprise. Shouyou gets quite literally thrown awake as Atsumu’s momentum nearly tosses him off the bench. 

Atsumu glances between Sakusa, who’s glaring at him over his mask, and Shouyou, who is rubbing his eyes and yawning. He can feel his heart banging in his chest. “Uh. I can explain.”

“Explain what?” Bokuto bounces in with a shit-eating grin that Atsumu usually sees on his own face.

Sakusa opens his mouth to say something that was probably rude, but Shouyou speaks first.

“Are we not allowed to take a nap before the bus ride?” Shouyou stretches an arm above his head. “We got here a little early.”

Sakusa and Bokuto exchange a silent look. Out of the corner of his eye, Atsumu notices the rest of the team sleepily filing into the gym’s lobby. Atsumu’s hoping none of them heard Shouyou’s choice of pronoun in that sentence.

Atsumu reaches to grab his bag as he stands up with a huff. At the same time, Bokuto asks, “But why don’t you just sleep on the bus?”

In his peripheral vision, Atsumu sees Shouyou’s face screw up into a confused smile. “Because I’ll be talking on the bus ride? Either to you or ‘Tsumu or someone else.” 

A valid point, Atsumu realizes, but did Shouyou really have to whip out the nickname again? It catches Atsumu off guard and makes his heart skip a beat.

Bokuto seems to accept this with a small nod. Sakusa, however, is glaring ferociously at Atsumu; he can feel holes being burnt into his skin.

Sakusa takes a few steps away as Bokuto and Shouyou start another animated conversation, locking eyes with Atsumu, and Atsumu knows this is Sakusa’s way of beckoning him. Throwing his bag over his shoulder, he cautiously approaches the black-haired man.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Sakusa greets him, clearly annoyed. Already. It’s 7 in the morning and Sakusa’s annoyed at him. 

Atsumu gulps. “What do you mean?” Does he even want to know how he managed to piss off someone he hasn’t spoken to? Although, that’s not uncommon for Atsumu. It does seem to be a talent of his.

“Don’t give me that.” Sakusa narrows his eyes. “How long are you going to keep this up?” 

Now Atsumu’s even more confused. “Keep what up?”

Sakusa rolls his eyes. “Whatever the fuck you’re doing with Hinata. He’s not a dick like you, this actually means something to him.”

Atsumu blinks. What is ‘this’? Has Atsumu been flirting with him without realizing it? Did giving Shouyou his jacket actually affect the other boy that much? He feels a pit of anxiety beginning to form in his stomach. The absolute last thing Atsumu wants to do is make Shouyou uncomfortable. Has he really been making the younger boy uncomfortable?

Atsumu’s saved from responding to Sakusa by their coach announcing the arrival of the bus. 

He walks slowly towards the bus, really not wanting to be subjected to horrid talks by Bokuto like last time. He doesn’t get the chance, though. Hands wrap around his right forearm.

Shouyou looks up at him with wide eyes, making Atsumu’s heart skip a beat again. “You still want to sit by me, ‘Tsumu?”

Atsumu prays his face isn’t as red as he feels like it is. “‘Course. Don’t wanna sit with anyone else.”

Shouyou’s face lights up, and Atsumu knows it’s going to be another long, invasive bus ride.

Atsumu hadn’t been able to sleep on that ride home. Instead, he had stayed awake and suffered through his thoughts as Shouyou leaned into him and rested his head on Atsumu’s shoulder. Atsumu had pretended that he hadn’t thrown an arm around Shouyou’s shoulders, and he had pretended that Shouyou hadn’t nuzzled into the crook in Atsumu’s side that this had created. 

-x-

Two nights later, Atsumu almost throws his phone across the room. He isn’t expecting a call from Shouyou, and yet he’s getting one. He’s immediately nervous, a billion thoughts running through his mind. It’s about 6pm, did he forget something? Did he and Shouyou have plans that he forgot about? Was the team doing something together? Wait, no, probably not that; someone other than Shouyou would have called him by now if that was the case.

He’s spent too much time thinking, and the phone goes to voicemail before he even gets a chance to pick it up. In a panic, Atsumu immediately calls Shouyou back. What if he’s hurt? Got in an accident or something and Atsumu is being called because he’s the last person Shouyou texted?

“Hey!” Shouyou picks up almost immediately, with a rampant amount of energy in that single word. Atsumu realizes that the other boy isn’t dying, and relaxes the tiniest bit. “I’ve got a, uh, sort of odd question.”

“Uhhh okay?” Atsumu is uncomfortable. He doesn’t like open-ended statements like that, no matter how many times he says them himself. “What kind of odd question?”

Shouyou’s silent for a second. “Can I come over?”

Atsumu blinks. “Uh.” The unspoken question in his voice is obvious, and Shouyou doesn’t hesitate to answer it.

“The water main for our building burst, and I need to shower. Bo’s going to Akaashi’s, and I can too if you’re busy, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“No, no, you’re good, Shou.” The nickname slips out before Atsumu can stop it, as that’s what he’s been referring to Shouyou in his head as for quite some time now. Shouyou blissfully ignores it. “Just, uh, just for a shower?”

“Yeah prob--”

Atsumu cuts him off. “You can stay the night, if ya want. It’ll probably be easier.”

Shouyou’s silent. Atsumu shouldn’t have said that, he really doesn’t want to make Shouyou uncomfortable, he’s jumping way too far ahead --

“Okay.” The reply is so quiet Atsumu nearly misses it. He thinks he imagines it for a second. 

“Yeah. Okay.” Atsumu breathes.

“I’ll need to brush my teeth and fill my game bottle and stuff, so. Yeah. That does make it easier.” Shouyou thinks out loud.

Atsumu lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Yeah, no problem. This apartment’s got plenty of space.” Atsumu’s not really sure about that; it’s a loft apartment that isn’t meant for more than one person. There’s a couch downstairs in the living room, but it’s not really very large. Although, that’s probably better for Shouyou, who isn’t very large himself.

“Okay. Cool.” Shouyou gives a breathy giggle on the other side of the phone, and Atsumu’s really not sure how he’s going to handle the younger boy in his space for a whole night. “Um, I’ll go pack my game bag and everything I’ll need, and then I can probably be at your place in about...45 minutes?”

“Sounds good. I’ll find an extra pillow and blanket for ya.” 

“Alrighty.” Shouyou’s voice is perky once again. “I’ll see you shortly.”

After he makes sure Shouyou still remembers the way (“Go to the gym, turn right, and then take a left at the convenience store, fourth building on the left. You can see my balcony from the street, it’s got a buncha lights on it. Yes, fourth floor.”), Atsumu hangs up, and the reality hits him.

Hinata Shouyou is spending the night at his apartment. A whole night . Atsumu is going to have to survive an entire night of sunshine and smiles in his apartment. Atsumu thinks that the last time laughter rang through his apartment was the time Sakusa dragged a very drunk Osamu into it, and Atsumu had nearly peed himself with laughter at the sight of his touchy-drunk brother hanging all over his very disgusted teammate. Sakusa had taken that time to insult every corner of Atsumu’s dirty apartment.

Atsumu figures he should probably at least try to make his apartment presentable. He reaches for the duster that his mother had shoved in one of the entranceway drawers, and is dismayed to find it covered in a layer of dust itself. He doesn’t really think Shouyou will notice dust though, and shoves it back in the drawer. He proceeds to clear off the couch of his discarded (but clean) laundry, and throws it into a pile at the bottom of the loft stairs. He’ll deal with those once he’s done setting up the main room for Shouyou. 

Atsumu sends a silent thank you to his brother for leaving his Onigiri Miya branded blanket at Atsumu’s apartment. It had been an ugly birthday gift that Atsumu considered an insult instead of a gift, but Osamu had ‘forgotten’ to take it back with him. He folds it, albeit badly, and leaves it at one end of his small couch. Atsumu doesn’t have any extra pillows, though, so he’ll just have to take one of the many from his own bed. Hopefully he’ll be able to sleep without it.

He sprays some mystery cleaner (he can’t ever remember if it’s only for the bathroom or not) on his coffee table, and drags a paper towel across it. It doesn’t leave a film, so Atsumu assumes the cleaner must be okay to use outside of the bathroom. He briefly wonders if it’ll hurt the cheap wood, but decides he doesn’t really care that much about a cheap Ikea table. 

A quick glance confirms that his rug is clean enough; it doesn’t smell and there’s no gross stains. His balcony door is free of fingerprints, as he doesn’t usually go out there. He takes a glance around the tiny kitchen, and decides it wouldn’t hurt to throw some cleaner on the counters. 

This goes very quickly, as there’s really not much in Atsumu’s kitchen. There’s a water filter in his fridge, a few eggs, and some fruit that’s probably expired. In his freezer, there’s a copious amount of ice cream and frozen meals. His cabinets have three of everything, although hardly any are used. There’s a few mugs that Atsumu has become attached to, and a few regular cups, and one or two shot glasses that are still in the package. Atsumu freezes for a moment, hoping that Shouyou isn’t expecting him to cook breakfast. There’s a reason that Osamu is the brother with the restaurant: Atsumu can make things for himself, but he only eats his own cooking out of necessity; he knows his personal breakfasts aren’t particularly tasty. 

After finishing the kitchen, Atsumu stands back and puts his hands on his hips. The place looks pretty damn presentable, save for maybe the loft. Shouyou isn’t really going to be up there though, so this probably won’t be an issue. Atsumu shoves his clothes into one of the drawers at the top of his loft bedroom, forgetting the existence of hangers. He hastily makes his bed, which is difficult, considering he can’t fully stand up in his loft. The small table that holds his few family pictures is across from the stairs, and his MSBY uniforms are on display, as they’re the only things that hang in his open wardrobe. His knee pads and shoes are downstairs in the genkan, as he’s usually too lazy to go back upstairs to grab them.

Deciding that the apartment is as clean as it’s going to get, Atsumu heads back downstairs to mentally prepare himself. He’s not worried about the bathroom; it’s a wet room so there’s not really anything to clean, as Atsumu makes sure to check for mold every time he showers.

Checking his phone, Atsumu still has 20 minutes before Shouyou said he’d show up. That’s plenty of time to go grab some bus rides snacks for the two of them for tomorrow. Atsumu always buys some for himself but Shouyou never does, so he just eats from whatever Atsumu or Bokuto (it’s really Akaashi) packed. Atsumu doesn’t particularly mind, but he might as well buy Shouyou his own if he’s going to the store anyways.

He slips his shoes on, makes sure not to forget his keys, and heads out. Taking the stairs carefully, as he really doesn’t want to fall and bust his ass right before seeing Shouyou, he still ends up at the bottom of the stairs much faster than he had been expecting. 

The cool, late-October air greets him with a whoosh as he opens the lobby door and steps onto the sidewalk. The breeze throws some leaves in the air, nearly whipping Atsumu in the face. 

Atsumu feels a contented smile start to grow, and sighs. He truly does love this kind of weather. A slight chill down Atsumu’s spine is exactly how he likes it, just enough to keep him on edge and still awake. He doesn’t have to drink copious amounts of coffee in this weather. 

Seeing the convenience store pop into his vision, Atsumu realizes that he has absolutely no clue what kind of snacks that Shouyou would like. He pulls up Shouyou’s contact from their text messages and calls him.

Shouyou picks up after only one ring.

“Hey! What’s up?”

“What kinda snacks do you want? I’m heading to the convenience store on the corner.”

“Don’t really care, honestly. Can I meet you there?”

“Sure, I told you it’s the one on the corner, right?”

He can hear Shouyou nod against the phone, and then snort through his nose when he realizes that of course Atsumu can’t hear him. “Yep!”

“I’m already here, so I’ll wait for ya outside.”

“Oh jeez, I’ll start running. It’s cold out here, I don’t want you waiting in the cold.” 

Atsumu laughs. “Nah, you don’t need to do that Shou. I’m bundled up, I’ll be fine. I just don’t want Bokuto complaining that you stole his snacks again.”

“It’s cold! I’ll be there soon! I promise!” Shouyou says the words with a breath between each phrase, and Atsumu knows that he’s running anyways.

Atsumu leans against the wall of the convenience store. “Be careful. Don’t want to be patching you up right before a game.”

“I will!” Shouyou practically yells into the phone as he hangs up, clearly not being careful. Atsumu can do nothing but shake his head with a smile.

Staring towards the sky that’s visible amongst the apartment buildings, he thinks it’ll start to snow soon. The wind is starting to have a bit of a bite behind it, and the already-dying trees are starting to get brittle. Atsumu quite likes the snow; it may be childish, but he truly loves playing in the snow. He and Osamu still have annual snowball fights, and competitions to see who can build the tallest snowman. They tried to play volleyball with a bundle of snow and ice once when they were 15, but after Osamu nearly broke a finger they decided that was a horrible idea. 

Atsumu briefly wonders if he’d be able to get the rest of the team to have a snowball fight with him. He’s pretty sure he could get Bokuto and Shouyou to join, and Inunaki if he promises drinks afterwards. Everyone else might be a challenge, but hopefully the combined energy of the younger members would inspire the rest of the team to release some inhibition and get whacked by snowballs like they did when they were kids. They would probably break a few noses, considering the pure strength of professional volleyball players.

The sound of pounding feet makes Atsumu turn his head. Shouyou is barreling towards him at nearly his full pace, not looking like he’d be stopping in time to avoid ramming into Atsumu. But, in an almost comical way, Shouyou skids to a stop, and looks up at Atsumu with round eyes, barely having broken a sweat. 

“Hiya! You ready to go shopping?” Shouyou flashes a huge grin at him.

Shouyou is wearing their uniform already, and only has a small bag over his shoulder. Atsumu wonders how the redhead isn’t freezing, and then his eyes make his way to Shouyou’s face. It’s bright red, and Atsumu blames it on the October air.

“No one else I’d rather shop with at...7pm.” Atsumu grins back.

“Sorry again for such late notice about the apartment thing.” Shouyou says as he heads into the convenience store, and Atsumu hardly registers the door’s jingle. 

Atsumu touches the other man’s shoulder lightly. “Seriously, dude. Don’t worry. Just think about what snacks you want for tomorrow so ya don’t steal Bokuto’s.” 

Shouyou grabs shrimp-flavored chips off the shelf and turns around to face Atsumu in one fluid motion. “I’m buying everything. It’s the least I can do. You can’t change my mind.” 

“You don’t have t—“ 

Shouyou flashes him one of those smiles, and Atsumu knows he can’t refuse, feeling a small smile of his own start to form. 

“Alright. I’ll take your kindness, just this once.” 

Shouyou manages to grin even bigger as he shoves his arms full of random junk food. “You should get used to it, I’m not planning on stopping the kindness any time soon.” 

Atsumu is blessedly saved from responding to that by turning to grab his own snacks, and makes sure he grabs less than what he usually does. He really does feel bad about Shouyou paying, and doesn’t want to take advantage of him.

He wonders what exactly Shouyou means by this, though. He’s not planning on stopping being kind any time soon? Of course not, it’s physically impossible for Shouyou to not be nice. The boy is made of sunshine and smiles. Did he mean specifically to Atsumu, then? That doesn’t make much sense though; Shouyou’s always been nice to Atsumu, even when he didn’t deserve it. He’s really not sure what would change if Shouyou kept being nice.

The pair hobble with their arms full to the cash register, and Atsumu grabs the many bags of snacks as Shouyou pays. He manages to balance three bags on one arm and four on the other, figuring the least he can do is carry them.

Shouyou practically bounces down the sidewalk as they head back to Atsumu’s apartment. “Have you seen the latest Italy vs. Argentina game? Italy’s opposite hitter is incredible. He got a surprising amount of points against both Argentina’s blocking and their super good libero!” 

Atsumu smiles softly as he listens to Shouyou ramble on about the game that aired last night. He had, of course, watched the game, but he found it much nicer to simply listen to Shouyou’s thoughts about it. Atsumu found himself doing this quite often on the team bus rides, and discovered that Shouyou learned something from every game he watched. If there was a particularly apt block in a game, Shouyou had memorized it. A good receive from a tricky serve was ingrained into Shouyou’s brain. Atsumu thought the redhead’s ability to learn like this was amazing. He himself learned from matches, sure, but not to the same depth that Shouyou had. Atsumu learned by doing rather than watching, although he could usually pick up how to do a move by watching. He had learned Shouyou and Kageyama’s weird quick in a single game, after all. He’d learned that by doing it though, and he had been lucky that Osamu learned much the same way.

“Did you see the Korea - France game last week? Korea’s serves keep getting more and more tricky. I can’t wait til my serves are at that level,” Atsumu says, grinning. He’s found the Korean National Team’s serves to be a major influence on his own, and he had spent hours in high school watching their games over and over until he could perform their serving methods. He knew they still needed work though, Atsumu wasn’t quite at national level perfection yet.

“You’re pretty close, ‘Tsumu!” Shouyou grins back at him. “Your serves have always been awesome, and they just keep improving every time I watch you.” 

“I know! They can always get better though.” Atsumu pretends he doesn’t hear that Shouyou regularly watches him serve.

“You can always practice serves with me, I need to work on receiving anyways.” 

“Yeah, sure. We can do that after next practice, if you want,” Atsumu says as he opens the lobby door to his apartment building. The two head for the elevator, as Atsumu really doesn’t want to balance the increasingly heavy bags up four flights of stairs. 

“I’d love that!” Shouyou presses the 4 in the elevator at nearly the same time he finishes his sentence. 

“You know, shoving all this stuff in my cabinets is gonna be interesting. It’s been a long time since my cabinets had anything in them at all.” Atsumu finds the conversation continuing naturally somehow; he always ends up speaking over someone else when it’s just the two of them, but Shouyou has so far been undeterred. 

“Really?” Shouyou looks at him quizzically. “I would’ve thought you of all people would have a fully stocked kitchen.”

“Nope. ‘Samu’s the one that owns a restaurant for a reason.” 

“Ah, so you can’t really cook?” Shouyou asks as the elevator dings, announcing their arrival to the fourth floor. 

“I mean...I can. If I have to.” Atsumu fumbles for the key in his pocket as they approach his apartment. “Hang on a sec.”

Atsumu sets three bags down to unlock the door, and thanks Shouyou as the smaller boy holds the door for him. Thankfully, Atsumu’s kitchen is immediately off to the right as you enter the apartment, so he doesn’t have to go very far before he sets down all seven bags on the small counter.

“Anyways, yeah, I can cook. For myself, at least. Can’t promise it’s any good. I’m so used to eating my own stuff that I can’t tell if it tastes good anymore or not.” 

He turns to face Shouyou, who is looking around the tiny apartment, taking everything in. Atsumu immediately feels self conscious, even though he’d just cleaned it before he left.

“Your apartment is so nice, ‘Tsumu.” Shouyou is looking towards the balcony, straight in front of the entranceway. 

Atsumu hums in response. “Your place is bigger though, isn’t it?”

He finally catches Shouyou’s eye as the smaller boy responds. “Well sure, but that’s only because it’s a two person apartment. Bokuto takes up a lot of space though, so my room is really the only part of it that’s ‘mine’.” 

An unfamiliar look comes over Shouyou’s face. His eyes are tilted down slightly, although holding Atsumu’s eyes steady, and a slanted smirk graces his lips. Atsumu feels his face start to warm before Shouyou even speaks. “You should come over sometime. I’d be happy to show you my room.”

“Uh.” Atsumu isn’t really sure what he expected the shorter boy to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. He simply stands there and stares at Shouyou, and Atsumu is positive that his face is a burning red. What the hell kind of person says crap like that with that expression? Why? Is he purposely trying to kill me?

Shouyou collapses into giggles, and Atsumu starts. He fleetingly wonders if he had said that out loud. “Anyways, where’s your bathroom? I did come over to shower, after all.”

The moment of tension disappears, and Atsumu is relieved. He couldn’t say where the tension came from in the first place, though. He couldn’t really say much of anything at all; his brain is completely fried. He feels like his head is full of static.

“Oh. Yeah. Over there to the right. Sorry it’s really tiny.”

“No worries!” Shouyou bounces down the entranceway to the bathroom door, and opens it with more vigor than was necessary. 

Atsumu stares after him, frozen in place, his back against the kitchen counter. He stands there for quite a while, thinking absolutely nothing, registering nothing but Shouyou’s bizarre look. Why had it affected Atsumu so much? Why would that image not leave his head? Why is the only thing Atsumu can hear his own heartbeat?

The bathroom door creaking startles him out of his reverie.

“Uh, Atsumu?” Shouyou hasn’t said his full name in what feels like ages, but has honestly been about a week.

A quick shake of his head brings Atsumu back to normal, and he takes a few steps towards the bathroom.

“What’s up?” 

“Can I have a towel? There’s not one in here.”

Oops. Atsumu knew he’d forgotten something. “Oh shit, yeah, gimme a sec.”

Atsumu opens the linen closet that houses mostly miscellaneous cleaning supplies and four bath towels and grabs a (probably) clean towel. He knocks lightly on the bathroom door, and Shouyou’s hand reaches out. Atsumu tosses the towel at him, and it hits the door instead, missing Shouyou’s fingertips by a tiny margin. Shouyou tsk s at him, and picks up the towel from the floor before shooting a lighthearted glare at Atsumu.

Atsumu responds with a shitty grin of his own. “I hope you’re okay with instant soba, because that’s dinner tonight. I don’t wanna kill ya with my cooking on your first night.”

“That’s fine, I like instant anything.” Shouyou responds from behind the closed door. “I did spend two years living off of Brazilian instant food.”

“Good point.”

“I’m sure your cooking isn’t that bad anyways.”

Atsumu grimaces. “I really don’t want you to find out.”

Shouyou laughs lightly, and Atsumu is glad that there is a door in between them so that Shouyou can’t see the assuredly stupid smile that’s on his face. 

“By the way, cold water is to the left, hot to right.” Atsumu realizes he never confirmed that fact with Shouyou, and doesn’t want the smaller boy to have the impending panic of not knowing how someone else’s shower works. 

“I figured, thank you.”

“Don’t slip and die in there. I’m gonna go make dinner now.”

“Don’t burn it, please.”

Atsumu laughs as he heads back to his kitchen. 

Maybe having him here for a whole night won’t be too bad, Atsumu thinks as he grabs two packets of instant soba. He just has to make it til morning, and then he’ll finally be able to relax.

—

Four hours later, Atsumu’s heart is full. He can’t really explain that feeling, but he doesn’t know any other way to state it. He’s laughed and smiled more this evening than he has in ages.

Atsumu had pretended like he hadn’t nearly choked on his soba when he had watched Shouyou exit the bathroom, his hair soaking wet and flat against his head, making him look even smaller than normal. That sight had stirred something in Atsumu’s chest, and his body had forgotten to breathe for a second. He really didn’t know what to do with that information; Atsumu couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to get a crush on a teammate. A teammate. Volleyball was far too important to both of them for them to even consider dating -- especially since Atsumu was 100% sure that his feelings were one sided. Atsumu can’t get ahead of himself.

It wasn’t odd for two friends to spend the night together, especially not when they had to go to the same place the next morning, Atsumu reassures himself. Shouyou had his sweatshirt out of an instance of necessity, and he’d probably just forgotten to give it back. He’d grabbed it by accident last game, or had been planning to give it back then, or something. He’d invited Atsumu over because they’re friends, for god’s sake, that is a completely normal thing. Atsumu was reading too much into nothing again. It wasn’t even Atsumu’s first time liking a teammate; Osamu still hadn’t let him forget the first time.

High school had been rough for Atsumu in particular. He’d always known his personality wasn’t for everyone, but that first year of high school had affected him more than anyone had realized. Anyone but Osamu, that was. Osamu had constantly picked fights with him so that Atsumu would still have the attention of his teammates, and so that maybe they would try to practice with him. It hadn’t exactly worked, but thinking back on it now, Atsumu was so incredibly glad to have had Osamu by his side. Atsumu sucked at expressing his feelings and was even worse at understanding them, and somehow Osamu had been able to understand them anyways. He understood how hard Atsumu’s heart had squeezed when Kita had cared for him when he got sick, and Osamu had understood that nobody other than him had cared for Atsumu like that before. Osamu had been annoyed by but understood why Atsumu had fallen for the older man at that point, and he had been there when Atsumu had cried himself to sleep when he found out that Kita and Aran were together. What would Osamu say now though? That Atsumu had done this to himself? That Atsumu was fucked, for real this time? That his career was on the line this time, not just his pride?

Atsumu knew all that. He didn’t have to call his brother to hear him say it.

Atsumu had especially known when he and Shouyou had spent an hour on Atsumu’s tiny balcony watching the stars, pointing out particularly bright ones or what they assumed were constellations. Atsumu had known that the brightest star he’d ever known hadn’t been in the sky that night.

Atsumu had known when Shouyou had collapsed against him on the living room floor as they both laughed until they cried at funny YouTube video compilations.

Atsumu had known when Shouyou’s smile grew three inches as he laughed his heart out watching some of Suna’s old recordings of Atsumu and Osamu in high school, as they relentlessly threw each other across the gym. Suna had sent him those a few months ago, because they had popped up in his memories from five years ago.

Atsumu had known as he picked up a sleeping Shouyou and tucked him in on the couch, ugly Onigiri Miya blanket pulled up to the bottom of his now mostly dry curls.

Most of all, Atsumu had known when he struggled to fall asleep that night, wishing that he was holding not only the pillow he usually hugged to sleep, but also a mop of orange hair that would tickle his nose and smell like sunshine and remind him of home.

—

The smell of eggs cooking is what finally wakes Atsumu the next morning. The realization that someone is in his fucking apartment and has decided to cook eggs is what makes him jump out of bed.

As he bounds down the stairs, his brain starts functioning enough to remember that Shouyou had stayed over, and that it was most likely he who was doing the cooking. Atsumu has absolutely no idea why he would be cooking though; he’d planned on a bowl of cereal for both of them. Rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairs, Atsumu has a full view of his kitchen, and immediately stops in his tracks, jaw dropping open.

Humming to himself as he carefully flips an omelet is Shouyou, his back to Atsumu, and his hair sticking up even worse than usual. What Atsumu immediately focuses on is the ugly red and yellow apron Atsumu’s mother had shoved in a drawer when she came to visit one time. It makes Shouyou’s very large pajama shirt cinch at his waist, which makes it flare at the bottom and almost completely covers his shorts, forming an extremely cute outfit that Atsumu finds hard to look away from. Shouyou turns to look at Atsumu over his left shoulder, and Atsumu actually feels his heart clench and his lungs fail. He attempts to restore some energy to his slackened face by taking a breath and promptly chokes.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Shouyou calls to him, unable to leave the running stove. “You need some water or something?”

Atsumu gives a weak nod as he doubles over coughing, more out of shame than necessity. He’s finally going to have to come to terms with the fact that he does indeed have a big fat crush on his teammate and close friend, and the first thing he does to handle it is fucking choke. Not off to a great start, Atsumu. 

Hearing feet pad over to him, he looks up to meet Shouyou’s bright but concerned eyes, and immediately feels his face heat up even more than it already has. He accepts the cup of water that Shouyou brings him and takes special care to make sure he swallows it correctly.

“Sorry about that, I don’t know what happened. I just... was not expecting to have breakfast cooked for me.”

Shouyou flashes a grin at him, eyes soft. “I know. Figured I might as well, though. Consider it another payment.”

Atsumu widens his eyes indignantly. “Bro, I told you, you didn’t have to do anything for me.” Just having you here is payment enough.

“Yeah, but I’m enjoying it.” Shouyou claps a hand over Atsumu’s shoulder, the presence of it searing hot over Atsumu’s shirt. “It’s pretty much done though, come and eat!”

Considering the lack of a table in Atsumu’s apartment, he opts to push the Onigiri Miya blanket to one end of the couch as he sits to eat his breakfast. He checks the time on the clock by the TV, thankfully realizing it’s only 5:30 — still plenty of time to get ready for the game.

Shouyou sits on the couch beside him, and Atsumu shifts slightly so that he can face the other boy more. He knows Shouyou’s going to talk — he always does — so he figures he might as well just let him. 

“You know, this couch was actually pretty comfortable.” Shouyou says as he shoves a mouthful of omelette off his plate.

“Oh yeah? That’s good to know,” Atsumu says around his own mouthful. The omelette really is quite good, he has to give Shouyou that much credit. “I can’t remember the last time anyone stayed over.”

“Yeah, it was nice! I think your bed would be more comfortable, though.” Shouyou glances up at Atsumu as he says this, and shoves so much egg in his mouth that there’s no way he’ll be able to talk.

Atsumu blinks. “Well duh. I’d be sleeping on the couch myself if my bed wasn’t so soft,” Atsumu swallows carefully, desperate not to choke again. “It’s all the pillows on my bed, they really make all the difference.”

Shouyou perks up. “You have a bunch of pillows on your bed?”

Before Atsumu even finishes nodding, Shouyou jumps up from the couch, leaving his half empty plate on the coffee table. He takes the loft stairs two at a time as Atsumu scrambles to catch up to him. 

“Be careful, don’t run up the stairs! There’s no banister to catch you!” Atsumu yells as he drops his plate on the couch, hoping it didn’t spill any omelette but not caring enough to check. Truthfully, there is a banister, but it’s a simple wooden beam that functions only as a handhold; if Shouyou trips, he’ll fall right under it.

Atsumu clambers up the stairs only to have his heart squeeze an alarming amount at what he sees at the top. Shouyou’s laying on his stomach on Atsumu’s (very messy) bed, a sheet thrown haphazardly across his back. He’s still wearing that stupid apron, but the way the sheet falls, all Atsumu can see is the top part of the apron and Shouyou’s bare legs. He knows that Shouyou’s wearing shorts, but the blanket covers them, and Atsumu feels himself blush a ridiculous amount. Shouyou grabs one of the many pillows from against the wall and props himself up, leaning his chin on the pillow and crossing his ankles in the air behind him. 

Shouyou shoots him a weird look with an angelic smile. “I was right, this is way more comfortable.”

Atsumu thinks he’s going to die. 

“Well, it is a bed. They tend to be better than couches.” Atsumu is forced to keep a hand over his face in order to hide the incredulous look he knows he has. He can feel the blush through his fingertips.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu.” Shouyou calls to him with his lips slightly pursed.

“Hmm?” Atsumu is so fucked. He can’t look away. Shouyou’s bare legs on his bed is driving him absolutely insane. Osamu would be laughing his ass off right now.

“Is this bed big enough for two people?” Shouyou cocks his head innocently. 

Fuck.

Atsumu’s definitely going to die. 

He feels something in his brain snap and makes his way over to the bed, still not removing his hand from his face. He throws himself down next to the redhead, which is somewhat difficult, as Shouyou’s laying about in the middle of Atsumu’s double bed. Atsumu’s feet are hanging off the end, but, well, fuck it. He rolls over slightly to meet Shouyou’s eyes, which are wide. Shouyou’s mouth is slightly parted and his cheeks are flushed. That’s from the warmth of the sheet. 

“Seems big enough to me, at least,” Atsumu replies quietly, maintaining eye contact. He finally lets his hand slip off his face, his blush and stupid smile on full display. He doesn’t even care anymore. He knows Shouyou can see it; he’ll blame it on heat rising to the second story. Surprisingly, though, Shouyou says nothing. He simply sits there and stares at Atsumu. The latter almost starts to feel uncomfortable as Shouyou’s eyes flick back and forth across his face — although it doesn’t escape Atsumu’s vision that Shouyou mostly looks towards his lips. That’s just the fact that they’re lying so close together on a bed; that’s just the mood in the room. This would happen with just about anybody in this situation. Shouyou may be coming closer and closer, but Atsumu’s pretty sure he’s imagining that —

A loud screech startles both of them, and Shouyou throws himself up.

“I forgot to turn off the stove, oh my god, I’m so sorry—” He rambles as he practically flies downstairs.

Now alone, Atsumu lets out a shuddering breath. He throws an arm over his eyes as he rolls onto his back, his heart pounding in his ears. What the hell was he thinking? That was too close, he let himself lose too much control — he’s absolutely made Shouyou uncomfortable now. The shame starts to crawl under Atsumu’s skin, and he lets out a quiet groan. He’s doing horribly trying to deal with this crush on his own; he’s always had Osamu there for him when he needed it. There’s also the fact that Atsumu has had exactly one crush in his entire life, and it was Kita, who was far easier to fool than Shouyou will be. 

Shouyou’s too perceptive, pays attention to Atsumu too much. He pays attention to everyone too much, but Atsumu in particular; he has to, they’re partners after all. If Atsumu has an off day, he can’t set to Shouyou as well as he needs to, and Shouyou gets thrown off. Therefore, Shouyou always pays special attention to him and cares for him more than he would, say, Inunaki. Atsumu appreciates it. He realizes that he doesn’t think he’s ever actually thanked Shouyou for caring so much about him — he really should. Osamu was always telling him to be more candid with his feelings, no matter who the other person was. Shouyou seems like the type who would appreciate it anyways. 

Atsumu makes a mental note to treat Shouyou to dinner sometime soon as thanks — wait. Would Shouyou even want that? Didn’t Atsumu just make him incredibly uncomfortable? Shouyou probably won’t want to be alone with him. Atsumu should really think these things through more—

“‘Tsumu, come eat your omelette! It’s getting cold,” Shouyou’s voice calls from downstairs.

Atsumu inhales sharply, and wonders how long he’s been lost in his thoughts up there. That’s embarrassing; accidentally left my guest unattended downstairs while I thought about how much I absolutely do not want to rail him into tomorrow. Better go eat some cold eggs to cool my damn head.

Shoving away any pride he had, Atsumu pulls himself up and heads downstairs. Shouyou’s back on the couch, fiddling with the TV remote, as if nothing had happened. Good. Nothing had happened. Atsumu could just forget about it. 

“Where’s the sports channel? Inunaki said they’re playing highlights from the Spain - UK game right now.” Shouyou hands the remote to Atsumu as he sits next to his abandoned omelette. Atsumu flips to that channel, absentmindedly wondering how Shouyou had the energy to talk to Inunaki at 5:30 in the morning.

The two settle into Atsumu’s couch as the highlight reel plays, with Shouyou exclaiming loudly every time something cool happens, and occasionally trying to recreate a receive in Atsumu’s living room. Atsumu finds himself watching the other with soft features as he eats the rest of the (mostly warm) omelette. He’s always known Shouyou loves volleyball — they’re the same in that regard. For as long as Atsumu can remember, his life has been Osamu and volleyball and occasionally beta eating Osamu’s creations. It’s been school, practice, bicker with Osamu, visit his grandmother, go back home, eat, and practice again for Atsumu’s 23 years of life. 

He’s put so much of his life into the sport that he really doesn’t know how to let part of him go; even if he were to date Shouyou, would he even be a good boyfriend? Would Atsumu be able to give Shouyou enough attention? What happens if one of them gets tired of the other and then their playing dynamic is affected? Not that Atsumu can ever see himself getting tired of Shouyou, but it’s inevitable that Shouyou will get tired of him. 

Atsumu knows that, when it comes down to it, both he and Shouyou would choose volleyball over a relationship. His career is far too important to him for Atsumu to even consider risking it for a man. For Shouyou, though, he would strongly consider it.

That’s dangerous territory, Atsumu.

Finished with his breakfast, Atsumu clears his head of his previous thoughts and reaches to grab Shouyou’s equally empty plate. Shouyou protests at first, but Atsumu reminds him that the chef shouldn’t also do the cleaning. As he starts washing the dishes, he checks the digital clock on the stove, and almost drops the plates. 

6:30. 

He and Shouyou had spent nearly an hour watching that highlight reel and chatting, and now they’re probably going to be late. Fuck. 

“Shou. How long are you gonna need to get ready?” Atsumu asks, nearly frozen, staring at the green numbers.

“Maybe twenty minutes?”

Atsumu turns to look at him, eyes wide. “You better hurry, we’re gonna be late as shit.”

Shouyou’s brow furrows, and he checks his phone to see that oh crap Atsumu’s right and immediately flings himself off of the couch. 

“Where should I change?” Shouyou calls to Atsumu as he grabs his bag from beside the couch.

“Just—anywhere—bathroom.” Atsumu can’t even get a full sentence out as he bounces up the stairs to retrieve his own uniform. He hates changing upstairs because he has to do so in strange positions due to the fact that the ceiling hits him at about mid-shoulder height. However, he’d really rather not change where Shouyou can see him, which is stupid now that he thinks about it, because they’ve literally been changing in the same locker room for months now. 

He grabs his uniform out of the wardrobe and throws it on at what is probably a record speed. They wore the alternate uniform last game, so that means it’s back to the regular black uniform, which Atsumu strongly prefers. He doesn’t look very good in white; it contrasts horribly with his hair. 

Atsumu runs back downstairs, remembers that Shouyou is in his bathroom, and spins on his heels to face the balcony door instead. The sun is mostly up already, making using his reflection in the door as a mirror rather difficult. Mostly his eyes just hurt from staring into the sun. Although, Atsumu supposes he does that during every match he plays, so he can’t complain too much. He realizes his hair looks as good as it’s going to get, and turns to the kitchen instead. 

Atsumu grabs his game bag and begins shoveling random snack foods into it, not really paying attention to what he grabs. 

“Shou, what kinda snacks you want?” he hollers to the other man.

Shouyou responds by throwing open the bathroom door and tugging his uniform shirt over his head as he exits. He grabs three bags of shrimp chips and shovels them into his own game bag, which is notably emptier than Atsumu’s. A little too empty.

“You have your jacket, right?” Atsumu asks warily.

Shouyou freezes, snacks in his hand. He looks back at Atsumu sheepishly, and Atsumu has to resist the urge to sigh. 

“I’ll go grab my alternate one, we’ll never make it back to your apartment in time.” Atsumu says as he heads upstairs, not entirely sure where his alternate team jacket even is. He sifts through several piles of clothes before finally finding it.

“It’s wrinkled as shit, Shouyou,” Atsumu calls down, with the slightest bit of disdain in his voice. “No way in hell I’m lettin’ you wear this.”

Atsumu peers over the edge of the loft to meet Shouyou’s eyes. Shouyou is standing in the middle of the living room, hands on his hips, exasperated. 

“I don’t even care, ‘Tsumu. Half of my stuff is wrinkly anyways because Bokuto never hangs it up correctly.” 

Atsumu lets out a whine that’s more noise than anything, and takes his black jacket off to trade it for the white alternate one. It’s one thing to wear his own wrinkly clothes and be seen in it, but to let Shouyou be on the receiving end of the team’s lighthearted teasing? Atsumu would rather die.

Pulling the left sleeve on as he heads back downstairs, Atsumu realizes the alternate jacket is just slightly too small on him. It pulls at his shoulders ever so little, and the wrist cuffs are much stiffer than he remembered. He realizes this is because he hates the way he looks in white, and therefore always elects to wear the regular black jacket even when they wear the alternate uniform. The coach doesn’t care which color jacket they wear, as long as they’re wearing one at all and their uniform is correct.

Atsumu tosses the black one at Shouyou, who has not moved from his spot in the middle of the living room. It hits the redhead square in the face, eliciting a complaint that Atsumu promptly ignores. Atsumu heads into the kitchen once again, nearly slipping on the tile floor in his socks. He looks over his shoulder to the frazzled redhead, who is trying to put on Atsumu’s jacket in the frenzy. “Hand me your water bottle, I’ll fill it while you finish gettin’ ready.” 

Shouyou obliges, tossing Atsumu his bottle from where he’d left it on the counter. Shouyou then proceeds to tug his kneepads on by hopping on one leg down the entrance hall. Atsumu really wishes his water filter would work faster. Finishing his own bottle, he puts it on the counter and attempts to screw the lid on with only his left hand, which doesn’t go very well. He doesn’t spill it though (for once). With both bottles now full, he puts the lids on, fleetingly wondering if he got his lid and Shouyou’s mixed up, and then deciding that they’ll never know either way.

He hands the bottle back to Shouyou, who is sitting on the genkan step, tying his shoes. Atsumu puts on his own shoes, opting to carry his kneepads and put them on during the bus ride. 

Shouyou springs up as soon as Atsumu opens his apartment door, and bounces from foot to foot as Atsumu locks it behind them. 

“We got everything, right?” Atsumu asks cautiously.

“I sure hope so,” is Shouyou’s equally cautious reply. 

“Well, too late now.” 

The two head towards the stairs, deciding that they will be faster than the elevator. At the very least, running down four flights of stairs will give them enough of an adrenaline boost to run the rest of the way to the gym, and prevent them from having an anxious thirty seconds in the elevator. Shouyou almost crashes into that one neighbor on the second floor who always walks his dog at inopportune times as they near the bottom of the staircase, but Atsumu drags him by his wrist to prevent a surely time-consuming collision. 

Now outside, the cold air hits Atsumu’s lungs. He’d always preferred running in the cold; he has to fight harder for air against the sharpness of it in his throat, essentially overtraining his lungs. There’s also the fact that he sweats far less in the cold. Atsumu isn’t against sweating, he works too hard to be put off by sweat, but it’s not uncommon for even the most prepared athlete to prefer exercising when they don’t have to sweat. The weight of sweaty, wet clothing is often considered a burden.

As they speed around the corner with the convenience store, Atsumu looks to his right, and is greeted with a sight that nearly stops him in his tracks. Shouyou is running at an almost leisurely pace, his hair whipping into his face, a small smile adorned by chill-reddened cheeks and nose. The far too big team jacket is catching in the wind, flowing behind Shouyou almost like a cape. Atsumu is mesmerized. He is so, so beyond fucked. 

The gym comes into their line of sight, and Atsumu smirks.

“Hey, Shou — first one to the gym gets the aisle seat.”

Shouyou grins, that damn sunshine smile. “You’re on!”

Atsumu had been running at nearly his full speed already, so it’s not a surprise when Shouyou overtakes him easily. Atsumu doesn’t even mind; he’d let Shouyou win every time if it meant he got to watch the other unabashedly. 

The two practically crash into the rest of the team as they reach the gym. Atsumu immediately puts his hands on his knees, panting. Shouyou seems as though he’s barely broken a sweat, despite his red face and mussed hair.

Before Atsumu can even catch his breath, Meian hounds him. “So. Any explanation for showing up five minutes late, together, with Shouyou wearing your clothes, Miya?”

Atsumu blinks, momentarily confused as to how Meian knew Shouyou was wearing his clothes before remembering that the team jackets have their damn names on the back.

“Yeah, the water at Shouyou’s apartment broke, so he came over.”

“Uhhhhhhh.” Bokuto shoots Atsumu a confused look. “No it didn’t?”

What.

“Shouyou told me he had plans last night, so I went to Akaashi’s. Didn’t realize he meant he had to go to a booty call, though.”

As soon as what Bokuto said reaches Atsumu’s brain, he whips his head around to Shouyou, who is staring back at him with a sheepish grin. 

“I-- wh-- why didja--” Atsumu sputters, face burning, and not from the cold. 

“I really did have plans! The water main broke after Bokuto left!” Shouyou protests, face as red as Atsumu’s.

“I didn’t get informed of that,” Inunaki pops in, and Atsumu remembers that the three of them live in the same building, with Inunaki and his wife a few floors below Shouyou and Bokuto. 

Before Shouyou can retort, Sakusa sighs. “Listen, this is great and all, but how are you two going to explain the fact that you’re dating to the reporters today?”

Atsumu freezes. He had completely forgotten about the press conference today. Of all the fucking days. He then realizes what Sakusa had said.

“We’re not--”

“I’ll figure something out,” Shouyou interjects. “I promise. We can figure it out; the reporters are surely going to eat up that news story, aren’t they?”

Atsumu just stares at him. Is Shouyou seriously suggesting that they fake date on live national television? With no practice? With minimal discussion? 

Atsumu is going to die, and it will be at the hands of Hinata Shouyou. 

Meian eyes the pair cautiously before shaking his head. “Okay,” he finally secedes. “I trust you. Just please don’t do anything that could endanger the rest of the team. I have enough on my plate, I don’t want to play PR manager because my teammates got caught making out in the hallway.”

Atsumu wants to scream. He can’t handle this. He literally doesn’t know what he’s going to do. He’s never going to hear the end of this from Osamu; that is, if he lives long enough. Osamu might kill him if he finds out that Atsumu endangered his career on fucking live television.

Atsumu enters the bus uncharacteristically quiet. He sits in their row, the same one they’ve sat in all season, and takes his usual window seat. He doesn’t even notice when Shouyou plops down next to him.

“Hey.” Shouyou’s voice is quiet. Nobody’s sitting near them, likely wanting to give the ‘couple’ space to work out their plan for that afternoon; Shouyou has no real reason to be so quiet. Atsumu wants to scream again.

The hand on his forearm is what makes Atsumu finally look away from the window. Shouyou looks equally worried and scared. Atsumu never wants to see him make that face again. 

“Hey,” Atsumu says just as quietly, but he can’t hide the stressed sigh that escapes with it.

“Um, I’m really sorry.” Shouyou squirms in his seat. “Seriously, so sorry. I don’t know what came over me, I know I just made you really uncomfortable—”

“It’s fine,” Atsumu assures him. “It’s — a lot, yes. Wish you’d asked me beforehand, but that’s in the past.” Damn, he sucks at reassurance. 

Shouyou laughs painfully. Sucks so bad. “I know. I can’t believe I just threw you in this position so suddenly.”

The hand doesn’t leave Atsumu’s forearm as the bus lurches, beginning its journey to their next game.

“Why didn’t you just say we’d say what we told them? About the water main? It’s not like that was a lie.” Atsumu’s chest hurts as he says it. No, it wasn’t strictly a lie. Atsumu doesn’t know if he’d rather lie to himself or the world. He doesn’t want to choose one.

“I probably should have. We still can, I can go talk to Meian, he’ll understand,” Shouyou says apologetically. 

Atsumu considers this. The press conference would be so much easier if he did that; Shouyou could probably just take the jacket off, it wasn’t a requirement for interviews. However, it was a requirement for entrances and awards, as well as the closing ceremony, so Shouyou would be seen in his MSBY 13 Miya jacket regardless. No matter now it works out, Shouyou’s still going to be wearing Atsumu’s jacket. Atsumu’s heart hurts and he wishes Shouyou would always be wearing his jacket at the same time that he wishes that Shouyou would never have to deal with the horrible looks and tabloids that come with the Miya name attached. Atsumu was nothing if not notorious.

Although the vast majority of tabloids about him were dating-scandal gossip or straight up lies, it doesn’t change the fact that Atsumu’s reputation has been soured. He’s incredibly lucky to even be on a professional team after the way his name has been dragged through the mud. If Atsumu has to read a tabloid titled “Miya’s New One-Night Stand: His Publicly Claimed ‘Favorite Spiker’” he will commit crimes he doesn’t want to even think about. He really doesn’t want to do that to Shouyou; Shouyou can do so much better than him.

“Do you want me to go talk to Meian?” Shouyou asks again, bringing Atsumu out of his thoughts.

“I really don’t know, Shou,” is the only reply Atsumu can think of. “I don’t want to get you dragged through the depths of the media world with me.” 

He doesn’t need to explain for Shouyou to understand; he’s been there since the beginning, after all. When the first rude tabloid came out, in Atsumu’s third year of high school, it had trashed not only him but also Osamu. It had said that the Miya twins were too reckless and unreliable to ever play professionally, and that they should give up after high school. Nobody would hire them after high school, due to Atsumu’s shitty attitude and his rough interactions with his teammates, and the fact that Osamu did nothing but encourage this. It had made Atsumu cry for the first time in ages; he could handle mean things said about him, he had been his whole life, but saying mean things about Osamu? He couldn’t handle that. It had been both a relief and an insult when Osamu had told him that he was going to quit after highschool. 

Osamu wasn’t built like Atsumu was; he hadn’t spent his life handling mean things being said about him like Atsumu had. Atsumu had been almost a sick kind of relieved when that tabloid came out; he had thought that maybe he wouldn’t be dealing with it alone anymore. He had been equally relieved when Osamu couldn’t handle it, because truly no one deserved it, Osamu least of all. 

When Shouyou had sent Atsumu a text asking to go play volleyball together, Atsumu had hesitated. He knew Shouyou had to have read that tabloid; he kept up with volleyball news more than anyone Atsumu knew besides himself. Playing more volleyball wasn’t really what Atsumu had wanted to do at that moment. However, later that night while the Miya family had quietly eaten dinner, their mother had told Atsumu he needed to get out of the house, and Atsumu had let it slip that he had actually been invited to go visit Miyagi to play with a friend. His mother had immediately lit up, and reserved a hotel room for that weekend in Miyagi. Atsumu had begrudgingly responded to Shouyou that he would very much like to play, and asked if Osamu could join. The answer had of course been yes, and Shouyou had mentioned that he would bring a few friends from his own team to make it a little more even. 

Their mother had shoved the twins out of the hotel room nearly as soon as they arrived in Miyagi. Atsumu was absolutely lost, so he had called Shouyou, and the three of them had met up at a grassy field at the base of a mountain. As the three did basic passing drills in a triangle, Shouyou had admitted that none of his teammates had been free that day, but that Karasuno was holding a weekend practice the next morning, and asked if the twins had wanted to attend. Karasuno had been working on their adaptability that week, and if anyone could surprise the team in a game, it was the Miyas. Atsumu remembered that he had greatly enjoyed practicing with Karasuno that Sunday morning, and had found himself laughing more than he thought he did back home. Osamu had bugged him about the stupid smile on his face the rest of that week.

Thinking about it now, Atsumu realizes how he felt back then. He feels stupid for thinking that his crush on his teammate had only recently started; if he sifts through his memories, it’s fairly clear that Atsumu has had a thing for redheads since at least that time. At some point during that practice, watching Shouyou in his most comfortable habitat, Atsumu had realized that he didn’t give a damn about anything the tabloids could say about him. The only opinion that mattered to him was that of the only person who had never given up on him, who had never once treated him like a wildcard. After all, if you can’t smile when you’re basking in the sun, eyes closed, thinking of nothing but warmth and comfort, are you ever really living? 

Shouyou laughs lightly, once again dragging Atsumu out of his thoughts. He looks at the blonde with a soft expression, and Atsumu’s heart squeezes.

“I’m not scared of a little rumor, ‘Tsumu. As long as I live according to my own standards, and the people closest to me still love me, then what else matters?”

Atsumu thinks his heart has stopped. “But— but I— I’m me.” he says incredulously. 

Shouyou just nods at him. “Yeah. You’re you. That’s the best part.”

Atsumu turns to the window once more, watching the scenery fly by, not trusting his voice if he opens his mouth. He needs a moment to collect his thoughts, after thinking about his feelings so much in a single hour. He doesn’t often think about his feelings, so he’s a little unprepared.

With a deep breath, deciding he was prepared, he turns to face Shouyou again. “Well, if we’re gonna do this, we might as well do it believably.” Atsumu smirks and throws an arm around Shouyou’s shoulders, tugging him closer.

Without even being able to see his face, Atsumu knows the other boy is grinning. It’s just something about the sun growing brighter and the increasing feeling of home in his chest that tells him that the smile is there, shining just for him.

—

Atsumu is in danger. MSBY has just won their game, the energy is swirling around him, and Shouyou has been holding his hand for the past hour of the press conference. More than once, Atsumu has forgotten that this is fake. It’s only been three hours, and he’s already forgotten several times. Being Shouyou’s boyfriend comes so easily to him; he’s genuinely not sure if he’ll be able to stop after today. 

Although — will he have to stop after today? They did just announce a public relationship, after all. It would sound really lame if they broke up immediately after; that would terrify Atsumu into never talking about a relationship publicly again, real or fake. He doesn’t know how he would handle it if he had to announce a public breakup. How embarrassing. He’ll have to remember to ask Shouyou what he wants to do about the next game on the way home. 

“Miya-san?” the reporter repeats questioningly. Oh, shit, right, press conference.

Atsumu smiles. “I’m sorry, could ya repeat that?” He always goes overboard with the accent during interviews; it seems to be incredibly popular.

“Of course, how long have you and Hinata-san been together? Is there a story behind how it happened?” 

Atsumu had been waiting for that question. He and Shouyou had crafted a story that could be easily believed on the bus ride here. “Ah, since a few weeks after Shou first joined the team. I’d known of ‘im since highschool, of course, but it wasn’t until we finally played together that I remembered how freakin’ cool he was. We spent a lotta time practicing together, just the two of us, and one thing led to another.” Atsumu lets go of Shouyou’s hand to wrap his arm around the smaller waist instead, pulling Shouyou closer. Shouyou giggles, and practically nuzzles into Atsumu’s side. He pretends he doesn’t think that Shouyou fits in the curve of his side perfectly.

“Gosh, that’s so sweet!” the reporter says as she looks back to her company’s camera, making sure Atsumu’s response was recorded. Atsumu gives Shouyou a stupid, sappy smile and he gets one right back. Just as they had decided on.

What Atsumu isn’t expecting, though, is for Shouyou to grab his cheek and pull him down for a swift kiss.

Atsumu’s brain short circuits. The only thing Atsumu thinks is oh, his lips are way softer than I thought.

As Shouyou pulls away, silent apology only visible to Atsumu’s eyes, Atsumu can’t look away. He simply sits there staring at Shouyou, jaw slack. He can feel his face burning and has to fight the urge to turn and hide his face from the still-running camera. Or run out of the room entirely. Atsumu thinks he wants to scream, but he doesn’t know if it’s out of joy or not.

Behind him, Atsumu hears a loud sigh, followed by a “Disgusting.” that could only belong to Sakusa. 

Atsumu doesn’t have time to even process what had just happened before another wave of reporters barrages him with questions. Atsumu responds with practiced ease, not paying attention one bit. His mind is elsewhere. He vaguely notices Shouyou answering questions aimed at the two of them, with small concerned glances thrown his way. 

He knows he needs to snap out of it, he really does. But his brain can only focus on the softness of Shouyou’s lips, and how Shouyou’s eyes had been closed, and how it felt so natural for him to do. Atsumu can’t stop thinking about how badly he wants to take Shouyou outside and slam him against a wall, figuring out how soft those lips would be when they’re all alone. He has to push down his growing amount of thoughts of how those soft lips would feel elsewhere on his body, because the last thing he needs in this press conference is to embarrass himself that badly.

“Miya-san,” a reporter’s voice reaches him once again. 

“Hmm?” Atsumu can’t quite shake the fog around his head, but he knows he has to try. Just about any kind of response is going to be better than the bullshit staring off into space thing he’s doing right now. 

“What are your plans for the immediate future?”

Finally, a question about volleyball. Atsumu doesn’t have to overthink a hundred times to answer that one. 

“Well, I’ll be aimin’ for the national team for the Olympics, for one. I only got about a year until they start searchin’ for people, so I gotta be up to par with the best players in the world by then.” Atsumu gets cut off before he can continue.

“Ah, that sounds awesome!” The reporter nods enthusiastically. “Where do you think Hinata-san will be in your future plans?” 

Damn, can’t he have one question solely about his, y’know, professional sport? “Well, I assume he’ll stay a part of my plans.” Atsumu answers, completely honest. “I have no doubt that Shouyou’ll get on the national team with me. I got no need to worry about separation’ from him yet.” 

He can feel Shouyou’s surprised gaze from below, but Atsumu does his best to ignore it. He didn’t lie; he probably would’ve said something very similar even if they weren’t currently pretending to date. He and Shouyou have been partners on the court for months now; he strongly suspects they would be on a national level as well, considering how well they work together on the court. This isn’t even biased, it’s an objective fact; the two of them have done various interviews about their compatibility in volleyball. 

“Ah, so you plan to stay together for a while then?” 

That’s quite possibly the stupidest question Atsumu’s ever been asked in an interview, and he desperately fights to not let that point show on his face. 

“I sure hope so. I wouldn’t want to announce my boyfriend so publicly just for things not to work out in a few months,” Shouyou answers instead, tugging himself even closer into Atsumu’s side. Atsumu ignores the way his heart jumps at Shouyou referring to him as my boyfriend.

“Ah, of course, so then—“

“Sorry everyone, time’s up! We have to start heading back.” The reporter is cut off as their coach’s voice resounds around the conference room.

A groan of discontent is heard among the reporters, and there’s an almost visible sigh of relief among the team. They know that press conferences are part of being a professional athlete, they’ve done plenty in their years, but it’s far more draining than being on the court, and they all feel it.

As soon as Atsumu exits the conference room, his phone rings. It’s a call he was hoping to deal with when he got home, but it looks like he won’t get that option. He shoots a silent look at Meian, who nods, and mouths “ Quickly.”

“‘Samu.” Atsumu answers as he steps around a corner in the hallway, obstructing himself from the team and the reporters exiting at the other end of the hallway. He knew Osamu would be watching the press conference, he always tried to. He had just been hoping to explain the situation to Osamu before he had blown up. 

“Why the fuck did you not tell me.” It’s not a question. The thinly veiled annoyance in Osamu’s voice is obvious to Atsumu. Osamu was bound to be hurt; he and Atsumu had made a promise back in high school that Atsumu would share any inclinations of romantic feelings with Osamu, since Osamu had a slightly more level head. Not to mention, Osamu truly knew him better than anyone else; he would know when Atsumu was going to get hurt.

“Listen, I hadn’t got the chance yet—”

“The chance?! ‘Tsumu it’s been months.” Osamu almost sounds offended. Atsumu would normally tease his brother for having so much care in his voice, but he can’t. Not when Osamu is right.

Atsumu puts a finger to his brow, trying to figure out how he should best word this. “‘Samu. Please. Just listen to me.” The guilt is mounting, and Atsumu starts to feel a bit sick.

There’s silence on the other end, so Atsumu takes that as assurance.

“This isn’t real. I don’t— I’m not dating Shouyou.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

Atsumu inhales. “Yeah, I know. I wasn’t acting. Well, I was acting, since we’re not dating, but it’s not like it was hard for me. Shou came up with this horrible idea that we should fake a relationship because he forgot his damn team jacket, and somehow this was the best option.”

A pause. Osamu laughs in disbelief. “So you want to be dating Shouyou-kun.”

Atsumu bites his lip. “I— yeah. I think I do.”

Silence.

“‘Samu. We literally just came up with the idea a few hours before the game. I didn’t have time to tell you. I promise I was going to as soon as I got home.” 

“How long?” Osamu asks brusquely. Atsumu grimaces. He normally loves pissing people off, but Osamu is different. 

He doesn’t have to specify for Atsumu to know what he was asking. “A long time, I think.”

More silence. 

Atsumu hates silence.

“Tell me about it,” Osamu sighs. Atsumu could cry; he’s not getting reamed, so Osamu can’t be too mad. He still wants to hear about Atsumu’s crush on Shouyou that’s been going on for a pathetically long time. Atsumu really is glad to have Osamu by his side.

“Third year of high school.” Atsumu leans back against the wall, crossing his right ankle over his left. “When that first tabloid came out, and we went to Miyagi. That practice, ‘Samu. I saw him for real that day. I’d never — still haven’t — met anyone who loved volleyball like that. Like I do.”

Atsumu feels a small smile creep across his face, and he realizes just how deep in he is. “I don’t think I realized it then, though. I think I’ve known for a while that he was somethin’ special to me, but I only put a name to it last night. I really like him, ‘Samu. I think I like Shou a whole lot more than I ever liked Kita.” A nervous giggle escapes his lips.

Osamu tsks on the other end of the line, but Atsumu can tell it’s lighthearted. “You know you’re fucked, right?”

Atsumu lets out a full laugh this time. “Yeah, I know.”

A comfortable pause this time. Atsumu breaks it after a few moments. “I don’t think I’ve ever understood Icarus more than right now.”

Now it’s Osamu’s turn to laugh. “Dude, I didn’t even think your pea brain would be able to make a reference like that. I’m shocked you even know who Icarus is.”

“Of course I do!” Atsumu feigns offense. “Do you not remember Icarus being my favorite fable as a kid?”

“I thought it was that stupid one about the oni and the club.”

“That was yours, dumbass.” Atsumu lets out a shaky laugh, feeling infinitely more relaxed. “I’ll call ya when we get back. I don’t wanna get left behind.”

“They should leave you behind, ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu grins to himself as he hangs up. He had been terrified of telling Osamu about his the absolutely idiotic idea that was fake dating on national TV. He still sort of wished that he’d been able to tell Osamu before the press conference had happened, but all things considered, it hadn’t turned out too bad.

Atsumu still has the giant grin on his face as he turns the corner to head back to the team, and immediately runs into a smaller body pressed against the wall.

Atsumu’s blood runs cold, and the grin slips from his face as his features contort into a mask of fear.

He had run into Shouyou. Shouyou, who was pressing himself against the wall with his hands covering his mouth, face burning, looking directly into Atsumu’s eyes. Atsumu doesn’t even have to ask if Shouyou had heard everything. He knows.

“I—”

“You really feel that way about me?” Shouyou blurts out, so hushed that Atsumu thinks he imagined it at first. 

Atsumu doesn’t answer at first. He’s fucking petrified. He hadn’t planned on Shouyou ever knowing about his feelings. He can’t risk their friendship, their partnership, their career. Shouyou is far too important for him to ruin it with a confession. Not to mention, he has no idea how Shouyou will react. Disgust? Discomfort? Would he maybe even hit him? None of those are options that Atsumu thinks he could handle, especially not today. He’s been through so much today, he doesn’t think he could handle a rejection.

“Atsumu.” Shouyou’s voice is desperate. Atsumu’s heart aches. He wishes he could answer.

“Shou—I—”

“ Please.” Shouyou looks like he’s going to cry. 

Atsumu knew fake dating had been a horrible idea. He knew it wasn’t going to end well, and yet he did it anyways, just so he could have a few blessed hours of holding Shouyou to him, of saying that Shouyou was his. He was painfully stupid to have let it get to his head. Painfully selfish. He’ll have to tell Osamu about this rejection too, and he thinks perhaps that will hurt worse than the actual rejection. Osamu won’t say I told you so, but he won’t have to. Atsumu will already know.

“Just yes or no, Atsumu.” Shouyou cups Atsumu’s cheek with his left hand, burning hot. Atsumu doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels warm liquid pool in the ridge created by Shouyou’s thumb. 

Against his better judgment, Atsumu gives the tiniest nod.

Shouyou at least deserves the truth, if Atsumu can’t give him anything else.

Shouyou lets out a sound that isn’t quite a sob before he slams his lips onto Atsumu’s once again. 

Atsumu elects not to think as his hand reaches up and tangles itself in Shouyou’s curls. His other arm wraps around the smaller boy’s waist, resulting in a whine against Atsumu’s lips. He parts them, allowing Shouyou to deepen the kiss.

Atsumu has no idea what he’s doing right now. He doesn’t particularly care. He finally knows what sunshine tastes like.

Shouyou pulls away abruptly, not removing his hand from Atsumu’s cheek. His eyes are wide but bright. “I can’t believe you actually like me.”

“Should I not? ‘Cause I could be wrong, but that kiss just now seemed pretty damn likable.”

“Oh yeah?” Atsumu feels Shouyou smile against his lips, and his heart goes into overdrive. “Hm. That’s good to know.” 

“Why’s that?” Atsumu asks as Shouyou peppers the lightest of kisses around Atsumu’s face. He can’t help the flirty lilt in his voice; it’s always been there when he teases Shouyou, now that he thinks about it. 

Throwing both arms around Atsumu’s neck and pressing a deep kiss to Atsumu’s jaw, Shouyou mutters lowly, “‘Cause I’m gonna be doing it all the time now.”

Atsumu kisses him, roughly, far needier than before. He almost scares himself; he feels not unlike a ravenous animal. Shouyou only responds by pressing his body against Atsumu’s, giving Atsumu the confidence he needed.

He takes a step forward, pressing Shouyou against the wall he had previously been pressing himself against. Shouyou wraps a leg around Atsumu’s waist, tugging the blonde closer. Shouyou kisses against him with a ferocity he hadn’t realized the smaller boy had. His hands are wrapped in Atsumu’s hair and around the back of his neck, and Atsumu briefly thinks about how perfectly they fit. He doesn’t let himself wonder how it would feel to have Shouyou’s hands all over him; Shouyou is wrapped around his waist, after all. He would be able to feel where Atsumu’s mind was going.

Shouyou bites Atsumu’s lip lightly, and Atsumu feels himself sigh shakily as Shouyou pulls away, leaving Atsumu wanting for more.

Atsumu takes in the sight in front of him: Shouyou’s red face, his hair all mussed up, lips slightly swollen and panting, but pulled in a soft smile nonetheless. He observes how sweat drips down the very edge of Shouyou’s hairline where it meets his ears, and then thinks how weird that is for him to notice. He notices how perfectly Shouyou’s hips fit in his hands, and how easily they latch together at the waist. He can’t stop the lovesick smile from creeping onto his face, and realizes that he doesn’t even have to. He finally meets Shouyou’s eyes again, which are observing him in much the same way, his hazel burning into Atsumu’s own.

“What?” Shouyou asks him, breathless. 

“I just—” Atsumu can’t stand how ridiculously he’s blushing. He feels like a teenager again. He rests his head against Shouyou’s shoulder, still holding him to the wall. He never wants to move again. “You’re just so fucking perfect.” 

“Oh my god, ‘Tsumu.” Shouyou laughs, and there’s a lightness in it that hadn’t been there before. Atsumu thinks it’s one of the prettiest sounds he’s ever heard.

Damn. I really am whipped. 

Atsumu raises his head, taking in Shouyou’s face once more. Atsumu tries to ingrain all of it into his memory: the way his hair curls just above his brow, the way the freckle under his left eye disappears when he smiles, the curve of his nose. Brushing a thumb across Shouyou’s cheek, the redhead leans into Atsumu’s hand. Atsumu feels a tear fall again and it lands on Shouyou’s forearm, much to his embarrassment. Shouyou says nothing and instead wipes his own thumb under Atsumu’s eye as the tears begin to fall more rapidly. 

So fucking embarrassing. 

Atsumu allows Shouyou to guide his head back against Shouyou’s shoulder, and relishes the comfort he has found in the hands that rub slowly up and down his back. Atsumu can’t explain what he’s feeling right now. His chest feels like an open cavern, full of both nothing and everything. He’s embarrassed to be crying like this, but he’s also so incredibly happy. Atsumu keeps the smile on his face, despite the tears. His anxiety is dissipating, because holy shit this boy is his. He has someone who cares about him the same way he does, for once in his life. He feels relieved, and worried, and calm all at once. 

He feels Shouyou press a kiss to the top of his head as if Shouyou can feel his inner turmoil. Atsumu realizes he has nothing to worry about. He knows Shouyou better than he knows anyone else on the team, better than he knows anyone in his life; if there’s anyone he’d want to walk into this unknown territory with, it’d be Shouyou. 

“Miya. Hinata. Are you kidding me,” Meian’s voice calls, not from very far away.

Atsumu practically drops Shouyou as he whirls to face the captain with a guilty expression. A quick glance to his right shows him that Shouyou has no such guilt. 

Atsumu gulps. “Uh. Hi.”

Meian crosses his arms, with an exasperated sigh. “You two had one job. I literally told you I didn’t want to get dragged into being PR because my teammates were making out in the hallway. And yet, how do I find you two? Making out in the damn hallway.”

Atsumu exchanges a glance with Shouyou, both holding in their laughter, and he knows that neither of them have any regrets, even if it may incur Meian’s training punishment. It just means that they get even more time to spend together, so it probably wouldn’t even be a punishment. Atsumu might suffer due to his stamina being weaker than Shouyou’s, but he won’t even care; he’s prepared to die because of Hinata Shouyou.

That night, Atsumu doesn’t have to pretend when he wraps an arm around Shouyou’s shoulders and rests their heads together. He doesn’t have to pretend that he doesn’t let out a contented sigh when the now-familiar scent of sunshine shampoo emcompasses him.

He doesn’t have to pretend that Shouyou could be his, because the sun belongs to Atsumu and Atsumu alone.