Chapter Text
Motoya is threading a tie around his fingers, a soft blue to match the color scheme. It’s not his color, clashing with the skin of his hand. Thankfully the darker shirt breaks it up, which should hopefully help. His suit jacket is draped over the back of the chair. Breakfast had been awkward, Kiyoomi and Motoya barely talking, Suna noticeably absent. Motoya came up with the excuse of sleeping off a hangover which seemed to appease his parents - who were definitely hurting more than they were letting on from their own drinking at the reception.
Why not give him a chance?
Damn Kiyoomi and his questions, Motoya grumbles to himself.
It’s easy to call up the feeling of Suna’s hand in his. The press of his lips to his forehead. The feelings of waking up, curled together against their best intentions.
It’s just as easy to call up the longing he felt at breakfast for him. The way he sent food to the room directly just to make sure Suna ate.
He groans a little, wanting to bash his head until these dumb feelings go away.
“What’s with you?” Hana asks, leaning against the wall, fully dressed.
“None of your business,” he grumbles.
She stares at him through the mirror, mouth in a firm like with a brow raised. A face of ‘really? That’s what you’re going with?’ Their family’s best face to be honest. He sighs, wilting a little.
“Do you think I’m a commitment-phobe?”
Hana aborts a laugh, “Really?”
He makes the effort to look back at her to properly glare. She isn’t phased.
“Yes, you are.”
He frowns, pursing his lips. Looking back in the mirror, he grumbles, undoing the poorly done knot. Gently, her hands press on his shoulders, turning him so she can help.
“Unfortunately,” Hana starts, “You are surrounded by a lot of impressive people. People overlook you whether they mean to or not. I mean both you and Kiyoomi were nationally ranked but god do we never hear the end about Kiyoomi. Good lord, I love auntie and uncle but fuck, they’re annoying about it.”
She tugs on the tie a bit. “I think you’ve taken it to heart that you’re somehow not impressive too. That you somehow deserve less. So you avoid things like relationships because you don’t think you’re worthy of someone like that. And that’s why you get a fake boyfriend to try and win a dumb argument.”
He winces. “What gave it away?”
“Everything?” Hana says with a dramatic face, pushing the knot towards his throat. “But, I heard you yelling a little last night.”
“Oh.”
“For what it's worth,” she smooths out the tie, stepping back, “I think Suna’s a good enough guy to let this faux paux slide if that’s what you want.”
What is that he wants? He swore up and down that he didn’t want to date Suna. Told him that to his face even. Yet there’s not the gaping cavern in his life and he’s missing what used to fill it. Missing it more than he thought he would. Before it was easy to turn things away because well - he hasn’t gone on a date. After the ‘Math Guy’ incident, he did basically kill any crush that started to flower. He’d thought he’d fully mashed everything down into a nice concrete pad.
Yet something’s starting to bloom anyways.
Motoya looks down at the tie, pursing his lips. “Ya think?”
“You’ve max out nice sister comments so ask me tomorrow,” Hana says. “Get your jacket on, loser.”
He snorts, shaking his head fondly and grabbing his jacket. He tosses it on, following after her. They’re at the wedding hall, the fresh smell of tropical plants all around them.
Kiyoomi is loitering by a statue, he glances over at them. Hana taps his shoulder lightly, sliding past.
He looks at Motoya over. “Figured it out yet?”
“Yeah,” he says, “I did.”
“Finally,” Kiyoomi says. He raps Motoya’s shoulder affectionately, Motoya retaliates.
“Come on, let’s go.”
At the time, Noa’s plan had sounded great. She didn’t want to deal with the awkward bridesmaid/groomsmen processions. (She also was worried about her husband’s jokester brother doing anything other than standing perfectly still but that’s a family secret). Granted, standing at the front of the room until his legs went numb hadn’t exactly sounded like an awesome plan. This was the better plan though.
He’d figured he’d just find a point in the room, plaster a smile on his face, and disassociate into the void until everything was said and done.
Instead, he’s anxiously scanning the crowd for Suna who’s very much not here.
“You need to stop fidgeting,” Kiyoomi hisses.
“Where the fuck is he?” Motoya hisses back.
“There’s still people shuttling in,” the husband’s brother provides.
Motoya starts to pick at the hem of his suit. There’s a fun little string he’s found from one of the previous tailoring sessions and wonders how many tugs before it snaps or undoes the whole sleeve. Sure enough another wave of people comes filing in, but they’re creeping farther and farther back. There won't be long till everyone’s here.
Did he get lost?
Is he even coming?
He wouldn’t blame him for not coming, after everything. He doesn’t know what he’ll say to his family but he can figure that out later. For now, he has to debate on whether it’s worth running out and making the call. Would that be more or less humiliating than standing here awkwardly hoping?
The room’s mostly full now, the music has started to change. There’s a lump in Motoya’s throat because holy fuck - Rin isn’t coming. The thought lances him so profusely he doesn’t register the first nudge from Kiyoomi. The second one is much more pointed.
“Back left, by the flowers.”
Motoya looks and sure enough, Suna is standing there next to someone Motoya doesn’t know. He looks nice in his suit, a flower tucked into the pocket that Motoya recognizes from the villa. His face is blank when their eyes meet.
Around them the music changes, people rising for the bridge. Suna is tall enough, he’s up high enough, that they don’t lose each other in the movement.
“Can we talk?” Motoya mouths.
His blankness falls for just a second, anger flashing before being forcefully doused. He looks away and then looks back. Maybe sighs, Motoya can’t tell from here.
“Why?” Suna mouths back.
Motoya wonders how well Suna can read lips. Can he give the whole spiel right now? Right as the vows are starting up? He probably could, he knows what he wants to say but a prideful part of him wants Suna to hear it, to really hear him.
“Please?” Motoya pleads.
Suna looks annoyed, his face pinching like it does when their coach catches him slacking. It softens into something begrudging as he mouths, “Fine.”
There’s another elbow in his side so he finally looks away, letting the elated feeling swell. The ceremony is pretty easy actually, although Motoya has to snort at the “is this right?” glances the groom keeps giving Noa. When it’s time for their kiss, he dramatically spins and tips her, cheers erupting.
“How many times did she make him practice that?” Motoya leans in to ask, clapping.
“He dropped her the first time,” Kiyoomi replies, laughing a little.
Noa’s got a blush on her face as she’s righted, turning to face the crowd. “Alright, if everyone will please head to the reception hall, the wedding party is going to take some photos.”
Motoya blanches a little. He looks between the moving crowd - Suna’s already gone shit - and Noa. Fucking photos, he curses mentally.
“Can you cover me?”
“Sure,” Kiyoomi says, suspiciously easy. Motoya decides to worry about that later, instead using the first opportunity he can to escape with the rest of the crowd.
He finds Suna outside, kicking at the pebble path towards the outdoor reception area. He glances up at Motoya, curling in on himself. He presses his mouth into a firm line before raising a brow.
Fuck he actually has to talk about all of this. Why can’t Suna just be a mind reader? Doesn’t Atsumu accuse him of that sometimes?
Motoya swallows thickly. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” Suna says, turning. Motoya lunges, grabbing him by the sleeve.
“Wait, I’m not done. I’m sorry for last night, for this whole mess. I…” he pauses, letting go of Suna’s sleeve. “Kiyoomi was right. I don’t date. I’ve never actually dated. I’ve never even asked anyone out. Anytime I get a crush on someone, I get introduced to their new partner or get handed confession letters meant for my cousin.”
“Really?” Suna says with a grimance.
“Yeah. Kiyoomi burned his confession letter later. It was awful for everyone involved. Anyways , those things sucked and…it was easy finding excuses. ‘I’m too busy with school’. ‘I’m too busy with volleyball’. ‘I don’t wanna date’. Most people never really pressed either, so… I don’t know, I guess I just figured that was a part of life not for me or not for me right now.”
“We’re in college,” Suna comments lightly, “You know you got like 60 years left right?”
Motoya laughs a little. “Yeah but you get what I’m saying right?”
Suna nods. “I do.”
Motoya takes a wobbly breath. He makes one last prayer for Suna to be a mind reader but when the silence stretches, he blurts out “I ran last night because honestly, I think I like you back, and that’s scary. Really scary.”
“We don’t have to -”
“I want to,” Motoya interrupts. “I want to try. To go on a date when we get back.”
Suna is painfully quiet. He looks stunned, not mad, but it’s not doing anything to quell Motoya’s anxiety. He’s fucked it all up, he should have said this last night instead of running, Suna’s going to turn him down this time and that’ll be time number 3, fuck what does he do with that?
“Uh -” Suna starts, “Do we have to wait till we get back?”
Motoya blinks at him. “You wanna have a date… at my cousin’s reception?”
“Well, not so much a ‘date’ date. We can do that back at home but… I do have something in mind.” There’s an evil smile on his face as he leans towards Motoya a little. “Do you trust me?”
“Not with that look,” Motoya says, laughing. “But I am interested.”
“You are a genius,” Motoya whispers - well attempts too, wine has fucked with his sense of volume - to Suna no, Rintarou. Fuck that switch is awkward. Didn’t he prefer Rin? Crap.
Rin shushes him, cheeks a little flushed from alcohol. “They’re coming,” he hisses, dragging Motoya back farther around the corner.
Sure enough, a tipsy Hana and a cute bartender come spinning into the hallway. She looks unusually happy, giggling as they faux-waltz together down towards her room. Motoya for a brief moment has a flash of regret. He shouldn’t ruin his sister’s good time. Then they start kissing and the disgust he feels quickly burns away that sentiment.
She’s not even looking at the door as she reaches back, twisting the knob open. They both rush the now open door.
She smacks into the saran wrap first, tumbling into the bartender, sending them both tumbling into the hallway with a crash.
“Shit, you bit my lip,” the bartender curses.
“What the fuck?” She curses, looking at the door.
Motoya can’t help the laughter that’s bubbling up, neither can Rin. Her head immediately snaps towards their hiding spot.
“Shit,” Motoya says, slapping Rin’s arm. “Run, run, run.”
“MOTOYA!” Hana screams. Both of them take off down the hallway, her heels and screams chasing after them. Thankfully they’re both fast enough to dive out of the villa and onto the deck.
Escaping his sister quickly turns into a race for the beach. Rin may be taller but Motoya’s faster. He bursts through the last bit of treeline onto the sandy shores with a victorious yell. His foot immediately slides in the sand, sending him tumbling down.
“Shit you okay?” Rin asks, skidding awkwardly to a stop.
Motoya rolls out onto his back, sprawled in the sand. It’s a pleasant night - just warm enough he’s not freezing, the gentle rock of the ocean. There’s nothing but beautiful stars in the sky for as far as he can physically see, even a stripe of galaxy trying to fight against the light.
“Yeah,” he says, “I’m okay.”
Rin sits down next to him, catching his breath. He looks up towards the stars. “You think we can convince your dad to just leave us behind? Pretend we were lost at sea?”
“It’d be safer if he did. Hana might try and throw us overboard.”
Their laughter rings loudly over the sound of waves.
“So?” Rin asks, leaning towards him a little. “Good first date?”
Motoya makes a show of pursing his lips and thinking. He isn’t totally convinced it counts as a date although they are in suits and did have dinner that conveniently neither of them had to pay for. He pushes himself up a bit. Tomorrow, he’ll blame it on the wine and the nice night and the mushy wedding feelings in the air.
Tonight though, he minds his head and leans in, chastely kissing Rin. When he leans back, Rin raises a brow, curious.
“Now it’s a good first date,” Motoya says confidently.
“We can’t just have good,” Rin chides, reaching for Motoya’s tie to tug him back. Motoya rolls his eyes but goes willingly.
“Overachiever,” Motoya chides.
Rin effectively shuts up him.