Chapter Text
The week that followed was exhausting.
Suna spent hours smoothing things over with his parents, carefully explaining their intentions (and misadventures) while apologizing profusely. Atsumu helped, sometimes in his own chaotic, over-the-top way, which Suna secretly appreciated—though he’d never admit it.
Osamu acted as the voice of reason, ensuring no further catastrophes occurred. He mediated tense calls, redirected angry relatives, and occasionally muttered, “I am not being paid enough for this,” under his breath.
By the end of the week, the weddings were technically off, no one was disowned (though Suna’s parents were still wary), and the catering company had accepted an awkwardly heartfelt apology from Atsumu—complete with a doodle-filled note.
Finally, when the smoke cleared and the world seemed almost normal again, Atsumu found Sakusa alone in the practice room. Sakusa sat cross-legged on the floor, tuning his guitar, silent and still as usual.
Atsumu shuffled in, voice quieter than usual. “Hey, uh, can we talk?”
Sakusa didn’t look up immediately. After a long moment, he said simply, “Fine. But make it quick.”
Atsumu sat across from him, taking a deep breath. “I wanted to say thanks. For letting us help fix things with yer family. I know ya don’t really say thanks for stuff like this. But…” He trailed off, shrugging awkwardly. “I just appreciate it. Ya being cooperative, I guess. It meant something.”
Sakusa finally looked up, meeting Atsumu’s eyes. For once, his expression was soft, almost unreadable but different—less guarded. “It wasn’t easy,” he admitted quietly. “But I see why you guys did it. And I understand more now. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences before.”
Atsumu smiled faintly, relieved. “Yeah, well, now we’re on the same page. Sort of.”
Sakusa’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Sort of.”
There was a pause. Silence, but the kind that didn’t hurt. The kind that felt like understanding.
Atsumu leaned back, more relaxed than he had in days. “Guess this means maybe the band doesn’t have to collapse after all.”
Sakusa nodded once, quietly. “Maybe.”
It wasn’t a perfect resolution. Their chaos wasn’t gone. Sakusa wasn’t suddenly talkative or affectionate. But for the first time in a long while, Atsumu felt hope.
“Uh so,” Atsumu said casually, voice teasing, “ya single, or what?”
Sakusa’s eyes snapped up, sharp and unreadable. “What do you mean?”
Atsumu grinned, leaning forward slightly. “I mean, are ya officially unattached now that your weddin’s, uh, canceled? Askin’ for a friend well, technically, that friend’s me, ya know?”
Sakusa’s jaw tightened, but there was a faint flush on his cheeks. “Are you really tryin’ to flirt in the middle of a practice room after a week of chaos?”
“Absolutely,” Atsumu said with zero hesitation, grinning wider. “Chaos makes stuff way more fun, right? Speakin’ of which, ya look kinda cute when ya’re all broody and dramatic, y’know?”
Sakusa blinked, almost imperceptibly, but didn’t look away. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” Atsumu repeated, mock offense in his voice. “Nah, I’m just observant. And persistent. Perfect mix for datin’ prospects.”
Sakusa’s lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. “You’re shameless.”
“Shameless?” Atsumu said again, leaning closer, eyes sparkling. “Nah, I call it charmingly forward. And I think ya’d agree—”
Sakusa finally let a small smirk slip. “I don’t agree with much of what you say, but you’re persistent.”
Atsumu’s grin widened, walking closer until he was just a step away. “Persistent can be fun, trust me, y’know. And, uh, if yer single maybe we could practice bein’ more than bandmates?”
Sakusa’s eyes flicked to Atsumu, measuring, calm but softening. After a long pause, he finally said, voice low but firm: “You’re impossible. But maybe. We’ll see.”
Atsumu’s grin practically split his face. “We’ll see? That’s all I need for now, y’know. I’ll take it. Slowly, strategically like our band rehearsals. Except way more fun.”
Sakusa rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away. “You really are a dumbass.”
“Yeah,” Atsumu said, leaning closer, playful and teasing. “But yer dumbass is kinda cute too, ain’t it?”
Sakusa’s lips twitched into a small, genuine smile, and for the first time in weeks, the room felt lighter, quieter and a little warmer. The band, the chaos, the ruined wedding—it was all behind them, at least for now. And in the midst of messy guitars and scattered sheet music, a new kind of harmony was starting to form.
The stage lights hit the small venue, a mixture of warm yellows and vibrant blues, casting the band in a glow that felt almost nostalgic. The crowd was packed—friends, curious neighbors, and a few die-hard fans who’d somehow followed every ridiculous twist of their lives.
Oikawa, of course, was thriving. Somewhere in the back, he waved his hands like a maestro, having somehow spun the literal broken engagement and ruined wedding into a PR spectacle. Posters adorned the walls: “Celebrating Freedom” in bold letters, next to images of the band mid-chaos—microphones flying, confetti in the air, Atsumu mid-scream during their first disastrous performance. It was perfect.
Suna tuned his guitar, calm and collected as ever, shooting a glance at Atsumu and Sakusa on the other side of the stage. Osamu adjusted his bass strap, muttering something under his breath that was mostly resigned amusement. The music kicked in—Scrawny by Wallows, the song they’d played together the first time, now stripped of pretense, raw and honest. The crowd cheered, a mixture of excitement and chaos-fed curiosity.
Atsumu leaned close to Sakusa, eyes glittering with mischief, mic in hand. “So, ya ready for this, bro?” he teased, voice just loud enough for Sakusa to hear.
Sakusa shot him a look, but the faintest twitch of a smile betrayed that he was prepared for Atsumu’s antics.
Mid-verse, Atsumu edged closer, brushing slightly against Sakusa, smirking. “Uh, thinkin’ maybe we could make this more than just a band thing, y’know?”
The crowd hooted, some cheering, some laughing, others mock-gasping. Suna and Osamu exchanged a glance, both trying to stifle grins.
“Do it,” Suna muttered under his breath, nudging Osamu.
Osamu rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched. “This is going to be ridiculous,” he said, barely audible, voice heavy with amusement.
Atsumu leaned into it, stage presence wild and confident. “C’mon, Omi, admit ya like it,” he whispered loud enough for the audience to catch, grinning as Sakusa finally cracked a small, nearly imperceptible smile.
The crowd erupted. Some cheered loudly, some booed playfully, all of them hanging onto every second of the ridiculous tension. Confetti from the ceiling caught the stage lights, drifting down as Atsumu continued his playful flirtation, teasing Sakusa while singing, leaning close in all the right (or wrong, depending on who you asked) ways.
Suna leaned back, smirking, letting the twins’ antics unfold. “Idiots,” he muttered, shaking his head, though his smile betrayed approval.
Osamu groaned dramatically, but the corner of his mouth lifted. “This is chaos incarnate. And somehow, I can’t stop watching.”
The set ended with a triumphant, messy flourish—guitar riffs crashing into bass slides, Atsumu laughing mid-verse, Sakusa finally letting himself enjoy the chaos, and Suna keeping the music steady, the anchor of the madness.
The crowd roared. Some cheered, some jeered playfully, and the band soaked it in—the disaster of the past weeks transformed into something raw, honest, and alive.
Backstage, Atsumu wrapped an arm around Sakusa, whispering with that mischievous grin intact. “See? Told ya chaos can be fun, y’know.”
Sakusa just shook his head, but the faintest, warm smile lingered on his lips. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah but yer dumbass is cute,” Atsumu shot back, the grin widening.
And somewhere in the chaos of cheering, confetti, and messy instruments, the band had found its rhythm again—not perfect, not polished, but theirs.
Backstage, the lights were dim, thick with the lingering energy of their chaotic performance. The crowd’s roar still hummed faintly from the venue, but here it was quieter, intimate, messy, and somehow comfortable.
Atsumu leaned against the wall, smirk wide, eyes flicking to Sakusa, who was methodically putting away his guitar. “Y’know, maybe we should do more of these practice sessions,” Atsumu teased, voice playful, a hint of Kansai accent sliding through.
Sakusa didn’t look up immediately, just tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in that precise, unreadable way. “Practice sessions? Or more of your idiotic flirting?”
Atsumu grinned. “Eh? Can’t help it if ya make me wanna practice more.” He nudged closer, smirk teasing, eyes glinting.
Sakusa’s lips twitched—half amusement, half exasperation. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous? Nah.” Atsumu leaned closer, mock-serious. “I call it observant. Persistent. Perfect combo, y’know?”
Suna, watching from the corner, chuckled and smirked. “Ooh, look at you two finally admitting feelings on stage backstage style. Cute, cute. You’re both idiots.” He leaned forward slightly, clearly ready to egg them on.
Before he could say more, Sakusa shot him a sharp glance, voice low but teasing, “Careful, Sunarin. Don’t start thinking you’re safe.”
Atsumu laughed, pointing at him. “Yeah, watch it, Rin!”
Suna froze for half a beat, then felt a jab from the side. Osamu, standing nearby, deadpan as ever, raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure ya just got dragged into their chaos. Hope ya like it.”
Suna blinked. “…Wait, what?”
Atsumu chuckled, leaning closer to Sakusa again, whispering just loud enough for the crowd of discarded sheet music to hear. “See, Omi? Yer turn’s better. He’s gonna regret teasing us.”
Sakusa’s smirk softened, almost imperceptibly. “Hmm. He’ll learn.”
Suna opened his mouth, flustered, but Atsumu and Sakusa exchanged a look, playful and synchronized.
“Ya think I don't see ya giving goo goo eyes to 'Samu,” Atsumu said, grinning. “Disgustin', by the way.”
Osamu just rolled his eyes, a faint, knowing smile tugging at his lips. No words. Just enough to imply he had already seen this coming—and was thoroughly unimpressed, but secretly entertained.
Suna groaned, slumping against the wall, muttering under his breath. “Great.”
Atsumu laughed, stepping back, hands in pockets, still smirking at Sakusa. “Chaos makes things fun, y’know. Don’t worry, Sunarin we’ll let ya survive for now.”
Sakusa tilted his head, expression calm but faintly teasing. “For now,” he repeated, the smallest smirk lingering.
The four of them stood there, messy, playful, tiptoeing around each other—teasing, bickering, and laughing softly. Their chaos was far from over, their friendships tangled and raw, but there was warmth now.
Backstage, among discarded sheet music, instruments, and the faint scent of adrenaline, the band had found its rhythm again—imperfect, messy, and completely theirs.