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Atsumu was no poet.
He’s good at very few specific things, like finding the largest scarab beetles in the heat of the summer, hitting his twin right in the forehead from across the room, and being a flexible setter to the Inarizaki volleyball club.
Again, he is no poet.
But whenever you step into the room, he swears his heart knows, even before his eyes see.
It’s an experience, to even glance in your direction. He swears up and down that you must have some sort of power in you, because there is no way that a human could have such an effect.
The air shimmers as your laughter dances through the room. He tastes sugar on his lips as you flash him a smile. Beads of sweat roll down his palms, even when they haven’t started their drills.
You wave, and he fears that his heart would collapse on the rush it gives him. By the time you’ve exited the gym, he can barely stand straight, legs torn between giving out under him and running to you.
Your presence alone leaves him lightheaded, and any person with a good head on their shoulders would have a made a move by now. To at least ease the transition of being acquaintances into maybe something more.
But Atsumu is afraid.
He’s afraid that once he’ll get close enough, the accidental brushes he allows himself to overthink become frequent. He’s afraid that your smile blooms within inches of him, and he’d hear the full force of your laugh.
He’s afraid that once he gets a taste, he’d never want anything else.
He’s afraid that he’d get too attached, and that whatever saccharine ecstasy he’d gotten used to would disappear in the blink of an eye.
“‘Tsumu?”
Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and for a second you see the war of emotions behind his honeyed eyes. Then it is gone, cheeks puffed in indignation as he refuses to meet your stare.
“I don’t want to be a trash panda.”
Your brows furrow, and you bite your lip in order to keep the teasing laugh in control. “What do you mean?”
He gestures wildly with his hands. “Ya know, that video you sent? The lil rodent thing with the cotton candy?”
The bubble bursts, and Atsumu’s heart does kick flips at the sound of your mirth. “Hey,” he whines, pouting as you tug him to a stall. The bleach blond’s eyes light up at the scent of sugar and powdered milk, and the grin that adorns your face.
It takes no more than a few minutes for the two of you to have matching sugar clouds in the form of foxes. While yours was a soft blue, his was a baby pink that complimented his scarlet cheeks.
Pressing your foxes’ snouts against each other, Atsumu quirks an eyebrow. “It’s a cotton candy kiss.”
You see the whites of his eyes, his exaggerated eyeroll racking his brain. He growls, taking out his not-so-well hidden jealousy to his sugar fox. While he’s pouting into the treat, you take a moment to lean in, pressing your lips against his puffed cheek.
Atsumu pauses in the middle of chewing, mouth slightly ajar as he turns to you.
You smile innocently, licking your lips. “Sweet,” you remark, turning away and finally taking a bite into your own treat.
You walk away, and Atsumu stumbles over himself, eyes wide in disbelief. He sputters out in confusion, brain too frazzled to even make a coherent sentence.
It wasn’t until later into the night that Atsumu himself tastes heaven on his lips, and by god is it sweet.
bonus scene.
“What do you mean you didn’t know it was a date?!” Osamu screams.
“How was I supposed to know?!” Atsumu yells back, burrowing his face into his sheets, his cheeks aflame in embarrassment.
“Well, how did they ask you out?”
“They asked if I wanted to go to the pier with them.”
“On a weekend, yes, right before sunset.”
“And when I said sure, they said it was a date.”
Osamu chokes, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed, hands outstretched as though the answer is right there. (It is.)
“I don’t know, maybe they meant it in a friend way!”
Osamu could only sigh, sending a prayer for you both in wishing you luck, and thanking you for taking his stupid brother off his hands.