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Despite popular belief, Atsumu’s brain runs a hundred miles per minute. It’s one of his better attributes, although Osamu begs to differ, one he prides himself on but then again, he also prides himself on everything else he does.
Fitfully enough, the way he’s quick to think is what makes him useful in the court. And if that wasn’t enough to feed his self-esteem, it’s what also makes him come up with the many snarky comebacks his potty, fight-driven mouth has grown used to.
The bottom line is, Atsumu thinks of many things at a time.
It’s never just one thing. It’s always a thought branching into another thought and another until he’s made himself a web of musings that can rival supercomputers, or at least that’s what he claims. It’s a habit he has become involuntarily accustomed to, like breathing or eating.
But somehow, these days, everything he thinks about all connects back to Hinata.
“Atsumu-san, are you ready?” Hinata asks him, one arm in his MSBY jersey and the rest of his body just displayed to whoever was in the Black Jackals’ locker room.
That whoever being just Atsumu because he hates getting ready with a crowd of boys knocking elbows against each other like it’s high school, waits when the rest of the team are already warming up in the court before he starts his pregame ministrations.
And Hinata seems to like keeping him company because he lets himself fall behind the others, too.
It’s become their tradition of sorts. Something Atsumu looks forward to more than he likes to admit.
Atsumu knows he needs to answer Hinata’s question but he’s too preoccupied with the way the redhead’s skin glows under the yellow light of the room.
It’s been months since Hinata’s been to Brazil but the way his skin has stayed sun-kissed tan is a magic to behold. That and the extra muscle he gained from all those days he spent training on the sand makes Atsumu swallow slowly, gripping his locker door just a little too tightly. If this was a cartoon, Atsumu would be the character who would be visibly drooling.
Hinata looks up at him brightly, finally finished with putting on his shirt. “Atsumu-senpai?”
“Oh— of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Atsumu says hurriedly. He refuses to meet Hinata’s gaze, afraid that the boy will see what he’s feeling. Afraid that he’ll know exactly what’s going on in Atsumu’s mind.
Hinata has a way about him that makes you feel like he’s dissecting your brain if he watches you long enough. And Atsumu doesn't want to take any chances.
Atsumu thinks about how his mother had once told him his name meant hunger. Hunger for what, he doesn’t particularly know, although Osamu once said it was for rice bowls when they were still kids, but now Atsumu thinks it’s more like just plain appetence. A desire to consume anything and everything he can get a hold of.
So maybe this explains how he wants to keep all of Hinata to himself. Maybe this makes sense of why every time the redhead comes close, Atsumu has the urge to drink his entirety. Devour every beaming smile and blithe laugh. Mark him with his teeth, his hands, his words until there was nothing left of Hinata that wasn’t his to keep. Swallow him whole like the ocean once did with Icarus in those old Greek myths.
But for now, he just stares. He tries to silence his loud thoughts and watches as Hinata laughs and calls him cool. Watches as he gets up and holds the locker room door open for Atsumu to follow.
Someday, Atsumu will tell him what he’s thinking. Someday, his feelings will come to light.
But for now, he just follows the redhead’s eager footsteps into the fray.
..
“I think Kageyama’s serves have become more powerful,” He hears Hinata whisper to Bokuto as their game starts.
Atsumu thinks of a history lesson he had as a kid about territory and armed men fighting over boundaries of land and riches. Thinks of how it’s similar to the way he feels when he sees boys like Kageyama eye Hinata across the court, covetous and predatory.
The barbaric instinct he gets to just spike a serve a little harder, set a ball to Hinata a little faster. Which, after hitting it perfectly, Hinata would look back at him (Sakusa and Bokuto do too, but Atsumu just often focuses on Hinata) with those big bright eyes as if to question the blond’s nerve, but Atsumu just answers him with a smirk.
Nevermind the shiver that runs down his spine when Hinata is so focused in a game that he looks like he could kill Atsumu with one glance, he kind of likes him better that way. Likes the way Hinata unwittingly controls him with his movements.
Many things have changed since their first Nationals match back in Tokyo, one being they’re on the same side now, but Hinata’s still a monster when it comes to this sport.
And what else is Atsumu to be but a follower of contest and battle, vying for the triumph and grandeur laid behind the gold in Hinata’s electrifying eyes.
And when the game is over and their captain questions Atsumu (although Meian is properly used to this by now, bless his soul), about why he made such risky plays without much of a consultation with his team, Atsumu meets those same fiery eyes.
He thinks of how powerful the men who conquered foreign cities and found exotic treasures must have felt as he shrugs and says “Just felt like it.”, not once breaking Hinata’s gaze.
The smug statement, though, earns him a playful slap at the back of his head from Bokuto, a tired sigh from Meian (again, bless his soul), and a scoff from Sakusa.
But Hinata beams. He looks at him like he’s proud.
And that single gesture alone is enough to outshine the rest of the team’s reactions.
Atsumu is sure that one smile from Hinata can trump even the most grievous sins. This meaning, Atsumu thinks Hinata could run him over with a truck while laughing and Atsumu would still be grateful.
..
Afterwards, the two of them are walking home (their apartments are closer to each other than Atsumu’s more comfortable for them to be) when he thinks of his childhood days spent beside the sea, how he used to watch the water play with the sand in a game of push and pull.
The way the waves come back chasing after land and vice versa.
The way Hinata’s hand brushes against his while they walk, and the way Atsumu unconsciously trails after the touch.
Hinata doesn’t notice it. Or if he does, he doesn’t say.
So Atsumu’s mind goes back to seawater and sand. Two entities of nature bonded over habituation. How the ocean and land were set up by the moon to find familiarity in each other. Let the moon be the Cupid who wanes and waxes to make time for the two to meet.
While doing so, the moon probably thinks of its own other half; the sun it only meets in momentary eclipses and short-lived twilight. The sun that is all warm and blinding, brilliant and gleaming in all the ways the moon can’t be, but is precisely why the moon loves it. The sun that is both its antithesis and equal. The sun that’s the most heavenly of all heavenly bodies.
The sun who’s standing in front of Atsumu right now.
Hinata turns around to look at him.
They’ve reached the intersection where they have to part ways. Dusk has set too fast, blanketing them in an amber and lilac glow.
Out of habit, Atsumu smirks and says “Do you want me to walk you home? I know how scared you are of crossing the street.”
Hinata rolls his eyes wordlessly, coming closer to Atsumu. He stares up at the taller boy with an inquisitive look and a small smile on his face.
There’s a strand of Hinata’s hair that has fallen directly in front of his eyes and it makes him look more intimate, close. Atsumu holds his breath.
Atsumu thinks of Aphrodite. Of Beauty. Of the way the Louvre preserves art on its walls. The way cities are littered with graffiti— like a knee-jerk reaction, he reaches up to tuck the strand of hair back only to stop himself halfway when he realizes what he’s doing.
“Atsumu-san.” Hinata’s eyes are wide with clarity.
“You- you need to get a haircut soon,” Atsumu tucks his hands behind his back, as if to stop himself from collapsing into impulse.
“You do know you’re obvious, right?” Hinata says the words matter-of-factly.
There's a beat of silence.
Atsumu has to replay his words in his head before he understands them. “Huh?”
“The way you look at me, the way you act toward me. You don’t even roughhouse with me the way you do with Bokuto-san,” Hinata says steadily, expression unreadable to an Atsumu who is about to have the mini equivalent of an aneurysm. “It’s like you distance yourself enough to show me you want to hold my hand but you never do. Why is that?”
And for the first time in years, Atsumu’s mind goes blank.
He looks at the redhead as if he’s grown two heads. Hinata just raises his brows.
“I- you.. you knew how I felt? All this time?” Atsumu gapes at him. Equal parts horrified and unable to breathe. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I’m saying so right now, Atsumu-san,” Hinata cocks his head to the side, a smug look dawning on his face as he enjoys the image of a flustered Atsumu. It’s rare and glorious to behold. “And I was waiting for you to make the first move but you’re taking so long to do so.”
Atsumu opens his mouth in protest, feeling both wronged and insulted.
“I-I was waiting for the right time.” He sounds more defensive than he wants to be. Hinata stifles a laugh.
“Okay,” Hinata says sarcastically, grinning. “I think this is the right time.”
For a moment, Atsumu just looks at him. Looks at the boy who owns all of Atsumu's sweet words, the ones he saves for rarities. The boy he's been wanting to hold for months.
He meets Hinata's determined eyes and Atsumu might be cautious about a lot of things involving him, but he’s never once backed down from a challenge. And he won't start now.
With his ego and confidence greatly injured, Atsumu forces himself to muster up the courage to pull Hinata’s face to his.
The kiss feels like how Atsumu imagines those kisses in the shoujo mangas Hinata reads feel like. Electrifying and lovely.
Hinata’s lips are soft and sweet. Reminds him of all the good things there are in the world.
He pulls away quickly, suddenly afraid that that wasn’t what Hinata meant by a first move and that he’s now crossed a boundary with the redhead that he wasn’t supposed to.
“Shouyou, holy fuck, listen, I’m sorr-
“Shut up, Atsumu-san.” Hinata pulls him back in.
The next kiss is deeper and fuller than the first.
This one makes Atsumu’s thoughts dissolve into nothingness and makes his mind go still.
He kisses Hinata back with all his might, instead choosing not to think about anything else but the way he feels against him. Deciding that he’s thought enough about other things to last a lifetime.