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When Atsumu has the literal embodiment of all the cuteness in the world sitting right next to him, what choice does he have but to stare? It should be inconceivable, he thinks, for somebody to have that kind of power, and yet Hinata Shouyo exists.
When he smiles, the whole world shines that much brighter. When he’s crestfallen, the oxygen gets sucked right out of the room. It must be celestial energy. There’s no other explanation. Even now, with the neon lights above the bar molding around his handsome, boyish features, Shouyo looks ethereal.
He is most definitely an angel.
“This is tasty,” Shouyo says, wetting his lips as he looks down at the large beer glass he has to hold with both hands. The sight puts a smile on Atsumu’s face.
Yep. Cute.
“Have all you want. It’s on me,” he tells him. And when Shouyo’s smiley eyes crinkle, Atsumu’s heart takes a leap right through his chest.
How did he ever get this way? All gross sentiments and mushy desires. All the time, whether he’s on the same court or playing abroad, Atsumu feels a force like gravity dragging him to wherever Shouyo is. And when he’s at arm’s length, Atsumu gets the need to hold the younger man close—to smother him with all the affection he used to think he was incapable of. It’s a mystery, really, how he doesn’t even know at what point he decided Shouyo was the guy for him.
Yet when he looks back, all signs seem to point to an attraction that stemmed from their very first meeting. And really, when he considers any other options, the high school-volleyball-opponents-turned-teammates trope is the ideal recipe for love. That or some dangerous variation of psychosis, but Atsumu would rather not dwell on the dark details. He’d like to believe the two of them were fated long ago—that their story had been written in the spaces between the stars.
Atsumu scrunches his nose, embarrassed to have even thought that.
Beside him, Shouyo takes a big gulp that goes down the wrong pipe and sends him into a coughing frenzy. Atsumu’s protective instincts flare, and he slaps Shouyo on the back with a series of quick, short bursts to quell his fit, though he’s not sure it actually helps. Once the smaller man has his breathing under control, Atsumu drags his hand up to Shouyo’s muscled shoulders and keeps it there. If he scoots a little closer to press their sides together, nobody is the wiser.
A red-faced Shouyo thanks him, and Atsumu tilts his head slightly as if to say my pleasure, and boy, was it his pleasure.
Shouyo ducks his head and curls his lips around the glass now resting atop the counter. He takes a small, cautious sip.
When his lovely teammate is no longer obstructing the view on his other side, Atsumu spots a certain third-wheeler, and his mood sours.
There he is, Kageyama—his rival both on the court and in matters of the heart—with his lips turned downward and a crease between his brows. He has one hand on his beer glass, which is still topped to the brim, and he isn’t looking their way. Atsumu can’t help but wonder if that was done on purpose to avoid seeing whatever it is he and Shouyo have been doing for the past half hour.
Flirting is what Atsumu would like to call it, but knowing his teammate’s shocking obliviousness to all things romantic, he doubts Shouyo is of the same mind.
He has to admit, though, it’s pretty funny seeing Kageyama look so glower in a place so vibrant and full of energy. The television behind the bar is now showing the post-game Red Falcons highlights, but almost everyone in the joint is as lively as when the match was at its peak. Now that it’s so late, the sports bar has filled up with new patrons seeking to leave their boring daily toils at the door for a few hours.
If only Kageyama were such a person.
“Tobio-kun,” he says, only to immediately regret speaking the fantasy-shattering name.
Kageyama’s head turns, eyes raking over Shouyo’s form and the arm Atsumu has slung around his shoulders. They narrow. “Atsumu-san.”
“You haven’t touched your drink. Is something wrong?”
It’s not that Atsumu cares how the Adlers setter is feeling, but he isn’t about to let him ruin the mood he’s tried so hard to create, either. After all, tonight is the night he swore he’d capture Shouyo’s heart.
“Yeah, Kageyama,” Shouyo chimes in. “Is something wrong?”
Atsumu watches Kageyama's lips press into a line as he continues to stare Shouyo down. The expression on his face is reminiscent of a time when the freak duo was constantly at each other's throats. Normally, Atsumu would be amused by the ensuing banter, but he's not in the mood for it now.
He sighs. The night hasn’t quite been turning out the way he had planned.
When Atsumu invited Shouyo out, he’d been hoping it’d just be the two of them. Perhaps he should have waited until they weren’t in the middle of a volleyball scrimmage with friends from other division one teams to ask him out, because as soon as he pulled Shouyo aside to propose this spontaneous outing, Kageyama appeared beside them and insisted on tagging along.
No way I’m letting this idiot get drunk, Kageyama had said. After long-winded bickering and a teeth-grinding compromise, Shouyo promised to not go overboard with the drinks so long as Kageyama did his best to actually have fun.
Atsumu eyes Shouyo's half-empty glass—seemingly his third. Clearly, neither of them was holding up their end of the bargain.
“I’m fine,” Kageyama grumbles. “Just a bit bored.”
Atsumu huffs. Of course he’s bored. To Kageyama, anything not having to do with volleyball is a waste of time. In spite of this, why then had he been so hellbent on intruding on his time alone with Shouyo?
“Relax, Tobio-kun,” he says, forcing the tension out of his voice. “You’re on break.”
Kageyama’s lips curl, but he doesn’t say a word.
“Bartender!” Shouyo shouts out of nowhere, eyes wandering to find the man who is at the other end of the bar. “More drinks!”
Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Not for me. Thanks.” Then he looks back down at Shouyo. “And you need to stop.”
Shouyo brushes him off. When the bartender brings them another round, Shouyo reaches for his with sparkling eyes, but Kageyama gets it first. “No,” he says firmly.
“Give it,” Shouyo whines and Kageyama’s eyes soften only just barely. For a moment, Atsumu thinks Kageyama will relent and hand it back to him, but he doesn’t.
“Y-you promised you’d have only two.”
Before an outright brawl can break out, and god knows Shouyo would be capable of starting one, Atsumu cups his mouth with both hands and boos Kageyama so loudly that the other patrons stop to stare at them.
“You’re no fun at all, Tobio-kun!”
A vein pops on Kageyama’s temple.
“No fun,” Shouyo echoes cutely. He scrunches his nose like a rabbit and turns to Atsumu. “Hey. Lemme have a sip of yours.”
At this, the fury in Kageyama's eyes intensifies, and if looks could kill, well…let's just say Atsumu's really thankful that's not a thing that actually happens.
“Sure.” Atsumu smiles down at his precious spiker. “Have as much as you want. Unlike Tobio-kun, I’d never deny you life’s sweet indulgences.”
Shouyo whoops, celebratory, and drinks straight from the glass in Atsumu’s hands. As smoothly as he knows how, Atsumu turns the glass so that Shouyo’s mouth wraps around the lip exactly where his own mouth has been moments prior. It’s devious and cheap as far as ploys go, but Atsumu never said he was going to play fair. In matters of love and war, anything goes.
When he pulls away, Shouyo chuckles dumbly and wipes the remaining moisture from his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You’re the best!” he says, and Atsumu’s heart swells.
A snarky tch ruins the moment, and Atsumu’s head zips in Kageyama’s direction. When he sees the younger man channeling his frustration onto the glass he confiscated from Shouyo—gripping it so hard that his knuckles have stretched white—he can’t help but smile triumphantly.
“I think Kageyama needs a girlfriend,” Shouyo says out of the blue. “He’s always so serious and grumpy.”
Freeze frame.
Atsumu gapes and leans away to examine Shouyo, who looks perfectly unbothered by what he has said.
Girlfriend? Isn’t he….Didn’t he and Shouyo….?
Unable to make sense of anything, his eyes flicker back and forth between the two men as though each new glance will provide him with more information. But nothing changes. Shouyo remains carefree and unaffected, and Kageyama is serious and moody as ever.
What is going on? Isn’t Kageyama gay?
He shakes his head. The world isn’t all black and white; it’s made up of so many different colors. And just as so, the possibility of Kageyama liking girls and boys exists. However, a hollow feeling in his gut tells him that may not be the case here. Then again, he’s been under the impression that Shouyo and Kageyama were exes who had decided to stay friends. Who wouldn’t think that with how the two were all over each other back in high school, especially on Kageyama’s end. If Atsumu has been wrong all this time, then he really can't go trusting his own judgment now, can he?
Atsumu frowns.
Now that he thinks about it, neither Shouyo nor Kageyama ever outright said they were in a relationship. He’d jumped to that conclusion all on his own. He’s pretty sure most of the guys they played with had thought the same way at some point, too. Then could it be that—
Taking care to not look like a creep, Atsumu shifts his focus to Kageyama.
The younger setter’s face is burning, and there’s a wrinkle on his forehead. “As if I’d take advice from someone who’s never dated in his life,” he shoots back.
Atsumu jumps a bit in his seat. “You’ve never dated, Shouyo?” he asks with a small gasp.
Shouyo ducks his head and buries his neck in his gray cable-knit sweater.
“At all?”
“Nah,” Shouyo says, waving his hand as though to swat the thought away. “Volleyball has always kept me busy.”
In his periphery, Atsumu sees Kageyama look away awkwardly. He takes a big gulp from Shouyo’s beer.
“Oh.”
Oh.
Atsumu swallows. So it is one-sided.
“But you’ve had crushes, right?” he says, prodding Shouyo’s arm with his elbow.
Shouyo hiccups and sways dangerously in his seat. Immediately, Kageyama turns to him, arms out and ready for the catch. When he’s sitting upright in his stool again, Shouyo brings a finger to his lips—the universal shush sign. “Promise to not tell anyone.”
Atsumu nods, his heart beating louder in his chest.
After a bated pause, Shouyo giggles and says: “Bokuto-san. Only in high school, though.”
A heavy stone falls in the pit of Atsumu’s stomach and the sound it makes when it hits the bottom sends tremors through his body. At the same time, it feels as though the weight of some distant fear pressing down on his shoulders has eased by half.
“Really?” Atsumu says, crinkling his nose. “Why him?”
Kageyama leans in closer. He looks just as anxious to hear an explanation.
Shouyo smiles, and a particular glint—like a light passing through a frosted pane—shines in his eyes. “He has nice thighs,” he says too loudly.
The bartender glances their way and gives them a funny look. Atsumu stares back until the disgruntled man grabs his rag and moves away to clean the other end of the counter.
“Who else?” Atsumu says, half wanting to run for the hills and half wanting to staple gun his feet to the floor. He has to hear this. It’s the only way to know if he stands even a sliver of a chance.
Shouyo purses his lips thoughtfully and raises an open hand to start counting on his fingers.
He needs a whole hand?
“Hmm. Aone from Dateko.” He puts down one finger. “Kenma.” And another.
“Kenma?” Kageyama interrupts.
Shouyo nods. "But with him it's more like…we understand each other. He's funny. And smart, too."
“You like smart guys, then?” Atsumu says, lighting up.
Kageyama snorts, but Atsumu pays him no mind.
“Then what about that glasses kid? The tall blond from Karasuno. Did you ever find him attractive?”
Shouyo coughs and averts his gaze, but Atsumu thinks he sees his ears turn red.
The blood drains from his face. Oh hell no.
When he peers past Shouyo, he sees that even Kageyama looks disturbed.
“A little,” the drunken menace admits, smacking his forehead on the bar and closing his eyes.
Kageyama grits his teeth. “Anyone else?”
For a moment, it looks like Shouyo has fallen asleep in his drunken stupor, and Kageyama's hand is already reaching out to shake him awake when the shorter man raises his head and blinks blearily at both of them.
“N-no one,” he says, and then drops his face back down with a thwack.
Atsumu sighs. “So you didn’t date because you wanted to spend more time on volleyball, I get that, but that was back in high school, right? How about now?”
At the corner of his eye, Atsumu sees Kageyama pass his eyes over his face like he’s scrutinizing him—wondering where the hell he’s going with all this.
It can’t be too difficult to figure out, Atsumu thinks. Kageyama is sharper than he seems. Surely he’s figured out his intentions. In fact, it wouldn’t be at all surprising if that was the reason he’d refused to let Shouyo come out tonight without supervision.
A garbled sound escapes Shouyo.
“What was that?” Kageyama says, more accusative than inquisitive.
“I don’t know.” Shouyo turns his head—one cheek still smooshed. “I wouldn’t know how—how to pick the right person. How can you know? There are so many…options. No. That’s not the right word!” He starts to flail, anxious to redeem himself.
A smile stretches Atsumu’s lips. This is it. My chance!
With bawdy smoothness only he can muster, he leans forward and props his face on one hand against the counter. Shouyo's eyes find his, and the meeting of their chocolate browns feels electric. It simmers the air between them.
“Then, why not date me?”
“What?” Shouyo and Kageyama shout at the same time.
Atsumu flinches and immediately wonders if he should have waited a little longer to cast his line. The more he thinks about it, the deeper he descends into a spiraling mind trap of despair.
Shouyo sits up straight and stares at his teammate curiously. “L-like…become a couple?”
The lack of judgment on Shouyo’s face scares him almost as much as the thought of getting decked across the face. Admittedly, he’d been prepared for that.
He nods. “That’s typically what dating entails, yes.”
“But—” Shouyo starts to say.
Before he can utter an absolute, resounding 'no,' Atsumu rushes to take Shouyo's hand in his own and pats the back soothingly, gingerly, like he's handling a newborn bird and not a grown person.
“Don’t think too hard about it,” he tells him, voice shaky. He kisses one of Shouyo’s fingers for good measure. “You like me, right?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“And I like you. It’s so simple.”
Shouyo’s brow furrows. For as much as he looks like a pained puppy, he’s not exactly turning him down, either. Atsumu tries to smother his hopes before they grow too large only to die a horrific death.
When Shouyo still doesn’t answer, he nearly panics. Did he overdo it? Is Shouyo completely turned off? Has he blown his chance?
“I—”
A small gesture catches his attention: Kageyama’s hand inching slowly towards Shouyo. He looks so focused, like he’s in the middle of a volleyball game instead of at a bar, doing something so simple as taking Shouyo’s free hand. And do what? Pull him away?
Atsumu’s hold on Shouyo tightens.
Oxygen. That’s a thing right? Where did it all go?
“Alright.”
The sound fills every unseen nook and cranny in the room. If words were a balm, Shouyo’s acceptance of him would be as comforting as a gentle wave headed straight for the coastline of Atsumu’s heart. It’s frothy and playful, and Atsumu thinks he can taste the salty, crisp breeze on his tongue.
His lungs become filled with it.
He can’t sit still anymore.
Without warning, Atsumu hops off his seat and pulls Shouyo to his feet. The movement sends his stool clattering back against the floor. Then, he takes both of Shouyo’s hands and spins him around gleefully. They must look ridiculous, but Atsumu doesn’t care.
Rather than dwell on what others think, Atsumu hones in on how the faint warmth between him and Shouyo has begun to augment—expand. It’s all there is now. Not emptiness. Not cold. Just complete and utter bliss.
It’s a warmth he would like to be bathed in for the rest of his life, he thinks.
In the spur of the moment, Atsumu leans down and kisses Shouyo, and the rush of adrenaline he gets when their lips touch makes the entire world melt away.
Shouyo is softer than he imagined, and he tastes like citrus and sunshine, and ok, maybe a hint of beer. It’s addicting. He wants more.
But all too soon, the moment ends, and Shouyo pulls away and turns on his heels and shoves a finger at the forgotten setter still sitting at the bar with his face cast down and a shadow swirling all around him.
“I win, Kageyama,” he says, a wild look on his face akin to joyous, breathless disbelief. “Now you’re the only one who hasn’t dated!”
Kageyama’s mouth twitches into a shaky smile. It’s a look that reeks of defeat and heartbreak, and Shouyo may be too dense or too drunk to sense it, but Atsumu knows it well. Even though he feels pity for him, he’s definitely not sorry. And anyway, what has he got to apologize for? At the end of the day, he didn’t take anything from anyone. Shouyo chose him.
When Atsumu pulls Shouyo back against his chest and rests his cheek atop his orange hair, Kageyama looks away.
In the background, a cacophony of clinking glasses, boisterous laughter, and the Red Falcons match highlights on the TV seeps into their small bubble. The world breaks in, and with it, all sorts of wonderful smells and sounds. The best part, Atsumu thinks, is that he’s finally holding Shouyo in his arms, and it's not just a fantasy this time. It’s real.
This is a different kind of heaven.
Noisy and imperfect, but oh so warm.