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Maybe it was because of the way he rarely talked to anyone else; the way he’d distance himself from everyone else, no matter what the occasion. Maybe it was because he always wore that same damn expression on his face—blank, stoic—making you think he couldn’t give less of a shit, until he was on the court, playing, a spark in his eyes of genuine passion and joy.
Maybe those were the reasons why Kageyama Tobio irritated him so damn much.
Yet at the same time, there was an inexplicable connection, as if there was something drawing him to Tobio. Was it a newfound feeling of competition? Rivalry?
Or was it—
Atsumu sat up from his bed, his jaw clenched. He was in a hotel room in Tokyo (due to the All-Japan Training Camp, the sponsors paid for the athletes’ housing, separating them into groups of four), the faint light from the outside skyscrapers leaking through the drawn curtains.
The sounds of snores filled the silence, and Atsumu, eyes bleary from sleep, turned on his phone to check the time—just a bit past three in the morning.
The setter groaned, stretching his arms, paying little attention to the disgruntled noises of his roommates—it wasn’t like they completely woke up, anyways. Slipping out of his bed, putting his sandals on, he grabbed his room card and made his way out to the hallway to destress.
He had to blink a bit for his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the hallway, but he quickly realized that standing at the end of the corridor, staring vacantly out the window, was Tobio.
Of course.
Atsumu put on a forced smile, about to call out a cheeky Tobio-kun! Can’t sleep, too? until he noticed that the other was talking to someone on the phone.
He never really considered himself nosy, but curiosity got the best of him—how could he not listen in on his rival’s conversation?
Though guilt was the first thing he’d felt after hearing the first couple of sentences.
”Take care of yourself, okay?” Tobio’s voice sounded unnaturally strained. “Nn. Yes, Grandma, I know...”
He hung up the phone, pausing to take a deep, shaky breath, when he noticed Atsumu. He immediately tensed up.
”How long were you standing there?”
”Not long.” Atsumu shifted his weight awkwardly. “Do you... wanna talk about anything?”
”It’s kind of personal.”
”Yeah.” A nod of the head. “Yeah, I get that.”
Silence.
“But, I’m just saying,” Atsumu started, trying to pick his words carefully, “I can’t sleep either, so... how about I treat you to something from a vending machine? As a late night snack.”
Tobio seemed hesitant for a moment, but he nodded his head nonetheless.
They were seated in the lobby of the hotel room around a small coffee table, the space empty and quiet. Even the receptionist at the desk couldn't stop their eyelids from drooping. Atsumu had chosen a can of orange juice, while Tobio—Typical, he thought—decided on a bottle of yogurt.
"So how come you're up?" It was Tobio who finally broke the silence.
"Mm." Atsumu leaned back in his seat, his arms lazily draped upon the armchairs. "I just woke up, and I couldn't go back to sleep."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
More silence. It was always like that, it seemed.
"Tobio?"
"What?"
"You excited for nationals?"
Tobio opened his mouth to say something, but words didn't come out. Nervously, he took a sip from his bottle, and with a weak smile, nodded his head.
Atsumu raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"
Another nod. It was always nodding with this kid.
"Of course," Tobio replied, a bit defensive. "It's nationals. This is the longest I've gotten to play volleyball with a team."
And at that, Atsumu felt a pang in his chest. The want to stay on the court as long as possible, driven by a simple passion for volleyball more than sheer competitiveness—a similarity Atsumu never would've guessed they shared.
"Can't wait to kick your ass," Atsumu told him, a small smirk on his face.
"You wish."
"Anyone you know going to watch you play?"
Immediately, Atsumu wished he could take back his words. Tobio immediately froze up, his eyes zoning out—
"S-Sorry—"
"It's fine." Tobio's voice was barely above a whisper. He stood up, still clearly lost in something, but Atsumu quickly grabbed him by the wrist.
"Tobio," Atsumu began, "you know, when someone upsets you, you don't have to just stand there and take it—you know that, right?"
"Of course!" Tobio snapped, pulling his arm away from his grip. After a deep breath, he repeated it again, his voice much more soft. "Of course."
"And, just because we're rivals," Atsumu continued, "doesn't mean we have to be so closed off from each other, you know?"
"I know."
Though he hesitated as he said that, making a small wave of annoyance rushed over Atsumu. Why can't you just say what you mean, you dumbass?
"Tobio."
"What?" Tobio's muscles were tense. "Did you want me to say something else? You think you can read my mind, or something?"
"I—"
"Thanks for the treat," Tobio said it in a tone of finality. He moved his way towards the stairs. "I'm going to bed."
Atsumu was left alone, in the lobby. The silence never seemed heavier.
Maybe it was because of the way he seemed like he had to constantly handle things himself; the way he’d always close up whenever things got too personal. Maybe it was because of the way he'd saw that distress, back in the hallway—a type of distress that made him look stuck, lost in something. Maybe those were the reasons why Kageyama Tobio irritated him so damn much. Because he wouldn't fucking take care of himself. How were they supposed to be rivals if he wasn't even in good shape?
But as Atsumu took another sip of his drink, it didn't alleviate the pit of worry that was stuck on his stomach.
Worry.
He stared past the glass doors of the hotel's entrance, staring at the buildings' neon lights and the occasional red and white glares of cars. Despite the stillness of the room he was in, the world turned on, moving, as always. Relentlessly.
Worry.