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The first thing he notices is how others flock to him.
Like the first mandarin that ripens in the spring, people flock to Atsumu. Like farmers, they dig their fingers into flesh and watch as juice runs down their fingers; they want to dig through the blonde's thoughts, find out what makes him tick.
Suna smiles as he watches it happen, takes another sip from his glass. They’re too late , he thinks, I’ve already claimed that knowledge .
He knows that it’s selfish, knows that Atsumu has never been the type to tie himself to one person for too long because he’s too much of a free soul. But, that doesn’t stop Suna from being the one to peel back his skin and devour all the secrets Atsumu allows between them.
Even now, with both teams packed into some random bar near one of the Black Jackals apartments, they flock around Atsumu. Regardless of the loss he shines, like a beacon among the rocks calling sailors to the shore, as he orders shot after shot for his sullen teammates. He watches as Atsumu makes some joke that only Hinata laughs out — and even then it’s only so Atsumu doesn’t pout.
Suna takes a sip of his drink, settles into his seat as he watches from the booth he’s claimed as his own. It’s his own slice of heaven while the others push and shove and fight over seats at the bar or accidentally bother any other patrons who happened by the place that night.
He knows that eventually he’ll get pulled into the madness around him, that one of his teammates will grab his arm and drag him to the bar to celebrate their win. He knows that Atsumu has been glancing at him every few minutes and is biding his time to do the same.
Which is why it’s no surprise when he blinks and sees the blonde making his way toward his booth, a plate with drinks balancing precariously on his hand. He eyes the plate as the other gets closer, wobbling just enough to make Suna nervous.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry. Your fancy negronis are safe, Rin,” Atsumu says as he slides into the booth next to Suna.
They’re close enough that Suna can smell the cheap locker room soap underneath tequila, he can feel Atsumu’s chest rise and fall against his arm with each breath. His mind supplies the thought that he’d smell better with Suna’s body wash.
He downs the rest of his drink before his mind can run with the thought and starts on another one.
“Ya know,” Atsumu starts. “Ya haven’t joined any of us for the last twenty minutes.”
Suna hides behind his drink and tries not to think of how he caught Atsumu looking at him whenever he glanced up from his phone.
“You won the damn game, Rin.” He pushes a shot glass into Suna’s other hand. “At least act like it. And if ya can’t do that, distract me from the loss.”
It’s cute, he thinks, how Atsumu pretends like he isn’t checking in on Suna. He doesn’t remember when this habit of his started, but Suna has noticed it more and more over the last couple of years.
The evolution of their friendship is something that surprises Suna even now. They spent the better part of that first year together at each other's throats, more than willing to throw punches at each other than to actually talk. Then Kita sat them down and Atsumu, who thrived on praise from their older teammate, agreed to actually be friends .
Suna laughed in his face then decided that fine, he’ll do it.
And as Suna thinks back on it in this booth in this bar with this boy he’s known for most of his life, he realizes that he couldn’t get rid of him even if he tried; not that he wants to, but Atsumu never has to know that.
He pushes a shot glass towards Atsumu then takes one for himself, wincing at the taste of vodka against his tongue.
“What makes you think I’m not having fun, Tsumu?” He raises a brow at the blonde.
Atsumu’s fingers inches towards another glass, his eyes squinting at Suna as if he’s trying to decipher his sentence as anything below the surface through the haze of alcohol.
“Since when do ya sit all by yourself after a game? Last time we played each other you spent the whole time at the bar.”
“We lost!” Suna rolls his eyes. “I was drinking to forget the whole night.”
He had forgotten how easy it was to fall into their friendship when there isn’t a phone and hundreds of miles between them. It’s as if everything was paused and one of them pressed play on the remote to continue the conversation.
It’s been like this ever since they both decided to pursue the professional realm.
Suna lets insecurity swell in his chest. He thinks that maybe they haven’t grown past their high school friendship. That maybe, just maybe, they’re still those boys who spent their afternoons and weekends together learning all of the ways they can use a volleyball to their advantage.
He looks up from the glass in front of him to the boy next to him and knows that’s wrong.
The second thing he notices is the comfort that comes from being so close.
For a brief moment, he’s transported through time. This reminds Suna of simpler times, of how they would peel clementines in the summer as they walked home from practice and shared slices with each other, their fingers brushing against each other while their faces mirrored one another with the same smile; a secret kept between the two of them that they’ve never spoken about.
They’re seventeen with scraped knees and creamsicles dripping down their hands in the heat when Atsumu makes his world turn for the briefest of moments.
“Do you love anyone, Rin?”
“What are you even talking about?”
“What if I said I loved you?”
“I’d say you’re an idiot.”
“One day, you’ll say it back.”
Their world keeps turning after that. They continue to share orange slices and nights in the gym and weekends at the market. Their worlds no longer revolve around anything other than the two of them and whatever relationship exists between them.
As an adult, Suna knows that the younger version of himself is scared to lose the only person who has managed to break through any and all walls he put up.
Maybe teenage Atsumu wasn’t so wrong in his assumption. Or maybe the mix of alcohol in his system was making him remember things that should only be brought up when he’s alone in his apartment.
“Are ya even listening to me?”
Suna snaps back to the present, fingers clutched around the glass in his hands. Atsumu’s mouth is in a pout, pretty pink lips that make him want to swipe his thumb over them.
“What?”
“I was complimenting how ya played all night but ya eyes glazed over like you weren’t listening.”
Suna mumbles an apology and settles next to Atsumu again, knees knocking into each other under the table like they’re on a date. If they weren’t surrounded by so many athletes he would think the whole setup was romantic.
He swirls the orange peel around at the bottom of his empty glass. They’re huddled into the booth, forgotten by their teammates and keeping warm from how close they are. Now is as good a time as any, he thinks. If it all goes to hell, Suna can blame it on too many drinks and the high from the game.
But still, he discovers that he wants to share the truth.
In the orange glow of the bar, Suna finally surrenders to Atsumu.
He wiggles closer to Atsumu and leans in, ignoring the way the latter cuts off his babbling the moment Suna’s lips brush against his ear.
“I’ve never loved anyone other than you.” He pauses. “You’re the only one that was ever in the future when I pictured it. Even twenty years down, you were always there.”
Suna never claimed to be a romantic, but he knows this is the best Atsumu will get from him. Their relationship has never been one that allowed either to back down, to surrender to the other. But in this no-name bar in Osaka, Suna doesn’t mind surrendering for one night.
The third thing he notices is how warmth spreads across Astumu’s face; soft red creeping across his nose, his cheeks like the inside of a blood orange when you first crack it open. He looks beautiful.
It makes Suna want to devour him.
Atsumu stutters, tries to work his way through a sentence before he’s thought it out, and blushes even more when he realizes he’s doing it; an old teenage habit resurfacing once again after the years have pushed it down.
He allows himself to sink into that same memory again. Allows himself to remember the way the blonde hid his face underneath a cap, how his hands shook just enough for Suna to catch it in the corner of his eye, how he stuttered through the beginning of the conversation before finding his confidence.
A voice in the back of his mind says that he shouldn’t have waited so long to tell Atsumu something so obvious. But the petty part of him says the other wouldn’t have had to wait so long if he just opened his eyes for one god damn second and saw that Suna felt the same.
Good things come to those who wait, isn’t that what they say?
Suna knows that it’s mean to confess at that moment. They have no privacy, anyone can overhear their conversation with a little amount of effort. But Suna has never been nice, especially not to Atsumu.
Even now, as adults, teasing the other is something that Suna will never give up; watching him squirm is one of his favorite things.
It’s a risk, but Atsumu has always been worth the reward.
“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Suna teases. He can feel the other's pulse race. “Didn’t you say you’d make me say it back one day?”
He presses their shoulders together before leaning away just enough to watch the blush spread down his neck. This Atsumu, who's shy and vulnerable and hides whenever someone teases him, is Suna's best-kept secret. Like a satsuma that only fruits in the fall, this is an Atsumu that only shows itself to Suna; always have and always will.
“Ya killing me, Rin,” Atsumu groans, a hand coming up to cover his face. “You can’t say that and expect me not to whisk ya back to my apartment.”
Suna wraps his own hand around Atsumu’s free one, slips his fingers between the gaps, and squeezes.
“I’ll meet you outside.”
Suna pushes them both out of the booth and heads for the door while Atsumu slaps his card on the counter. He’s thankful that the entrance is in between buildings, lit only by the neon sign above the door. If there was any other lighting he’s sure Atsumu would catch the blush spreading across his own face.
The last thing he hears is a whispered plea of Rintarou before Atsumu pushes him against the building next to the bar and crashes their lips together.
It’s more teeth than anything and the mixed taste of tequila and salt almost makes Suna pull back before he realizes that this is something ten years in the making. It’s something that they’ve both been waiting for since the day Atsumu made that promise. This is the way it was also supposed to happen; with them in an alley between buildings and hands sticky with spilled drinks.
Neither of them are soft and neither expects this to be soft either. They’re brutal creatures who have been molded for years to wield a volleyball like a weapon. They couldn’t be soft if they tried and for that reason alone, neither minds how messy and uncoordinated the whole affair is.
In the back of his mind, Suna knows this is perfect for them.
Atsumu is the one who ends up pulling away first, Suna trailing after him only for the former to chuckle against his mouth.
"Took ya long enough.”