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“I hate rain,” Atsumu groaned.
He stood at the gym door, scratching the back of his head. It was so late, and the dark clouds covered the sky at sunset so that all he could see was grayness at the horizon. Depressing.
To make things worse, he had forgotten his umbrella at home and Osamu had already left. He would get soaked on the way back home.
“Oh, I love rain!”
Your voice sounded behind him and he jolted. He had forgotten that you, the team manager, had stayed late too to take notes on every member’s practice.
“How can you…? It sucks,” Atsumu complained. “Your shoes get wet inside and they screech and I always get a headache when it rains.”
“I don’t know how to explain it,” you said, “but there’s something so pretty about rain... The streets look different, you can see the reflection of lights on the puddles, and the smell of the earth after raining is wonderful. Did you know the scent has a name? Petrichor, it’s called. Plus, when you hear the drops hit against the window when you’re trying to sleep… it’s so relaxing.”
You rambled on about the wonders of rain and Atsumu stared at you dumbfounded. Your eyes focused on the scenery outside the gym door, the drops falling rhythmically on the ground, the light fading on the horizon, and you didn’t notice the way Atsumu was looking at you, first confused, and then… finding you endearing for the way you could love something that he hated so much.
What truly made him so attracted to you was how different your personalities were, like opposite poles of a magnet. But he would never admit it. He couldn’t admit how much he loved your attention to detail, a steady pillar to the team when it came to finding more effective training practices, when it came to keeping track of the team’s strengths and weaknesses; or how much he loved your calmness, which sometimes reminded him of Osamu, but despite your composure you wouldn’t shy away from putting Atsumu in his place when he crossed the line.
When he first met you, Atsumu thought he’d always hate you for the way you put limits to his behavior, but he instead had realized how indispensable you were in his training… in his studies… in his life.
He wasn’t fully conscious of how grateful he was that you had stayed at the gym for them until so late, knowing that you had to study for your exams as a third year, and you had to return home alone that night.
“Hey, (y/n), I’ll walk you home.”
You turned to him so fast that you almost hurt your neck.
“You just want my umbrella, don’t you,” you accused him.
He flinched, his face contorting into a weird expression that you didn’t know how to interpret.
“Hey, you’re hurting my emotions!”
“Are you kidding, Atsumu.” You blinked, confused. “Look who’s talking.”
When you took your bag, opened your umbrella and stepped out of the gym, he followed you, putting all his practice items in his bag in a rush and running after you until he found a place under your umbrella –having to bend a lot to fit under it, though.
“Seriously?” You said, half closing your eyes, judging him.
But when he smiled at you (and it seemed quite a genuine smile, which surprised you), your expression softened and you raised your umbrella so he wouldn’t get neck pain from bending so much.
It still wasn’t enough.
“I should be the one holding it,” he offered.
When he took the handle, raising the umbrella more so he could stand under it comfortably, a gust of wind and rain hit you from the side, soaking you all the way up to your waist.
“…This won’t do, Atsumu.”
He cackled. The height difference was too obvious, and if he straightened up and held the umbrella, it wouldn’t cover you at all. You wanted to kick him for laughing at you.
“It’s my umbrella, you asshole! You should be the one getting wet!”
He kept laughing, dodging your kicks and punches, which only made you even more exposed to the rain. At this point, there were few parts of your body that weren’t wet yet, and you felt like murdering him.
Why did you still stand his presence? He was an asshole.
“Just grab my arm and you won’t get wet,” he suggested.
It wouldn’t be a bad suggestion if it weren’t for the smirk painting his face and the fact that you really didn’t want people to see you by Atsumu’s arm right now.
Even if, deep inside, you didn’t dislike the idea.
But maybe not right after he had mocked you for getting wet after stealing your rightfully-earned place under your own umbrella.
So you instead grabbed his arm to pull him down to your level and you walked, once again covered by the umbrella, with him bending under it. He didn’t seem to mind, since he was still cackling.
“So, (y/n)-chan… I’m surprised you stayed so late at the gym.”
“Kita asked me to stay so I could supervise your training, make sure I keep statistics of the serves you fail and all that stuff. With the tournament coming, we need to make sure you’re all improving your technique.”
“Yeah, yeah… but then you have to go back home alone. At night.”
“As if you were worried about that,” you pouted.
You missed the way he glanced at you with an expression that clearly said “why do you think I’m walking you back home right now, you silly”. But you were too focused on not stepping on any puddles and ruining your shoes even more –not that it would matter at this point.
It was unfortunate that a few meters later you stepped on a hole, lost your footing and fell over, rolling on the ground in the least graceful way possible. Needless to say, Atsumu didn’t do anything to avoid it and once you were on the ground in a very unflattering position, he burst into laughter and you were sure he’d end up breaking a rib from laughing.
“You asshole! You’re the worst!” You screamed at him, a couple of tears on your eyes from the pain of the fall. “Help me here!”
Still laughing, he bent over, grabbed your arm and helped you stand up.
“I bet you don’t love rain anymore,” he teased you.
You ignored him, checking your right arm. You had grazed your skin there and you saw some red dots quickly getting bigger. When he noticed it too, he stopped laughing.
“Hold the umbrella a second,” he said, handing it over to you.
That was when you noticed, as he opened his bag and searched for something inside, the touch of guilt on his lips, pressed into a tight line. He got a couple of band aids from his bag and put them on your wound.
“There. It’ll heal soon.”
You nodded slowly, still feeling the pang of pain on your arm. Suddenly you noticed his fingers under your eye, cleaning a tear that was about to fall down your cheek.
“Asshole,” you pouted.
“Hey, I helped you just now!”
“After laughing at me! You should make it up to me.”
“What?!”
“I was nice sharing my umbrela with you, I got wet because of you, and you thank me by laughing at me when I get hurt!”
Atsumu opened his mouth, flustered, but couldn’t find any words to defend himself.
“…what do you want,” he finally gave in.
“Buy me pork buns tomorrow.”
“…fine.”
“Good.”
You gave him back the umbrella and now you coiled your arm around his. All you could think about was the pain of your arm, the warmth of his arm, and the pork buns he would buy you tomorrow.
It had always been like this, with Atsumu, ever since you met him when he first joined the volleyball club the previous year. He was immature and an asshole, but he was so funny and you two actually understood each other pretty well most of the time. He pranked you all the time and you were convinced that he got his vital energy from making you angry at him, but when you demanded some compensation, he would give in easily. That’s how you got all sorts of food, drinks, and other nice stuff from him.
But the fact that, when things got serious, he could also get serious… yeah, he could do with growing up a bit and being more careful about other people’s feelings, but then he cared so much about you (although he wouldn’t admit it openly). He hated to see you cry, and even if his pranks were bratty, he always did it with the intention to make you laugh too…
He had taken care of you a lot in the last year.
“Hey.” He shook the arm you were holding, making you return to reality. “You’re really silent.”
“Hm.”
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
He stopped walking and checked your face. It was hard for him to see with the darkness of the evening and the umbrella hiding your face from the street lights, but you really weren’t crying.
“My arm hurts, that’s all.”
“You’re almost home. Hang in there.”
You realized that he had walked you all the way home, not just half-way as he would sometimes do. And your home was in the opposite direction of his house from the school. He really had taken a detour just for you.
But it wasn’t the first time he had walked you home in the last year, so you shouldn’t be surprised.
“You’ll get soaked on your way home, Atsumu.”
“Yeah… and then you wonder why I hate rain.”
“Hmmm.”
“And you got hurt too. I don’t see how you can like it.”
“It has its advantages,” you muttered.
Like being able to walk by his arm on the way back home. But you kept that to yourself.
You finally saw the outside gate of your house and you turned to say goodbye to him, but he walked you up to the door.
“Careful, don’t slip on the step,” he warned you, holding your hand until you were on safe ground, and returned your umbrella to you.
“Keep it. Give it back tomorrow,” you said.
He tried to complain, but you cut him off.
“Thank you, Atsumu.”
“…what.”
“For walking me back home.”
Whenever you thanked him for that, he would either pout and say it was nothing, or would smirk arrogantly and try to make you praise him. Today, he went for the second.
“If you insist on thanking me, you can buy me some-“
“Atsumu, you owe me those pork buns. Don’t forget.”
He moaned; his plan to look interesting in front of you had completely failed.
“See you tomorrow, (y/n)-chan.”
“Rest well, Atsumu. You trained a lot today.”
And before he crossed the gate to the street, he turned back to you and added:
“Y’know what, (y/n)-chan? Maybe rain isn’t so bad after all.”
And with a soft smile on his lips, he left in the rainy night.