Chapter Text
This party is so lame, Atsumu thinks, weaving his way through the people in masks, milling about the massive hall decked with rich golden decor. What kind of people throw masquerades at this time and age. Rich people sure are a different breed. Atsumu’s kind of parties are ones with too loud music and lots of cheap booze. Not ones like this, with old rich people ambling around gaily, holding flutes of champagne, fake smiles plastered on their faces.
He walks around the hall, scanning the crowd for his brother and his boyfriend who are probably off in some corner sucking face.
God, being a third wheel fucking sucks.
Atsumu decides that he doesn’t very much fancy being the only single one in his group of friends. He also decides that he’s had enough of this party and would like to go home to the warm welcoming arms of his bed.
He regrets allowing Suna to drag him here. But Suna had said that he’d worked his ass off stealing the invitations off of Oikawa Tooru’s bag, and not attending would be a terrible waste of the humongous effort he’d put in. Atsumu had called bullshit on that. He was pretty sure he was the one who played the major role in the mini heist they’d pulled off. Still, he'd complied and went along with Osamu and Suna on an impromptu shopping spree, picking out suits and masks appropriate enough to be worn at the house of one of the richest families in Tokyo — the Sakusas. They were lucky to get the suits and masks on discount at a thrift store. Osamu and Suna had gotten matching silver and black suits with silver masks to cover the top half of their faces. Atsumu had gotten a red suit, his mask was gold and glittery, very glittery. He had protested against buying that one, but Suna insisted that it went well with his suit and that he would “look dashing in it.” Atsumu reluctantly agreed, only because there actually was no other mask that complemented his suit. The mask he’d gotten had swirls on one side, making his face itch when he tried it on, but he had no choice but to endure it.
Atsumu had been worried that they would get caught by the guards placed around the mansion and be thrown out on the streets in front of the dozens of influential people gathered there. Much to his relief, the guard hadn’t batted an eye when Suna handed over the three invitations he'd nicked, with faux confidence. They’d walked in, feeling accomplished at the feat of deception. Now that they were inside, all that was left to do was pretend they were one of those rich assholes invited to the “masquerade party”. Yeah. Atsumu could pull that off. It was simple. He was born for this.
Except, it wasn’t simple. It’s been barely an hour and Atsumu’s cheeks are already hurting from the ridiculous amount of smiling he’s been doing. He’d been approached by women in long flowing gowns, asking about his family history and his marital status because apparently, that was something important to them. In the time that they’d been there he’d made up a whole backstory, complete with 2 brothers and a sister who was working for a big corporate company somewhere in America. He’d also bullshitted his way out of several attempts at setting him up with prissy rich girls. It had been truly exhausting . Atsumu wants out of here right now.
He turns a corner in an empty hallway and is greeted with the sight of his brother and his boyfriend, who are currently engaged in a passionate make out session, just like he’d predicted.
Resisting the urge to gag at the image which is now forever imprinted in his mind, he walks up to them. “There ya are,” he says.
Osamu and Suna break apart abruptly and glare at him, fixing their dishevelled suits.
“I spent a whole ten minutes tryna find ya both. This place is like a maze or somethin’.” He wedges in right between Osamu and Suna, forcing them apart.
Osamu and Suna turn to him, levelling him with a deeply unimpressed stare. It’s impressive how they manage to convey that much disappointment, even with a mask covering their faces.
“Don’t look fer us then, ya scrub,” Osamu says, crossing his arms across his chest. Atsumu notices a faint red mark on his neck and eyes it with a knowing smirk. He opens his mouth to mention it, and promptly closes it when he sees the challenging look in Osamu’s eyes.
“I’m so bored Samu,” Atsumu whines instead. “I wanna go back to my apartment,” he pouts at the two of them.
Osamu and Suna exchange a glance and sigh deeply. It's almost like they have some sort of telepathy when it comes to dealing with Atsumu.
“No,” they say in unison, earning another whine from Atsumu.
“We’re both havin’ fun here. Go and get drunk or somethin’. Yer pretty good at that.” Osamu pushes him in the direction of the main hall and sidles closer to Suna.
Atsumu stumbles forward and turns back to them, frowning. “Of course you’re having fun. Yer not the ones who’s gotta third wheel,” he grumbles. “And,” he continues. “I can’t get drunk here. They don’t even have good booze. Who the fuck drinks champagne .” He scrunches his face in disgust. “It sounds like some sorta fancy fruit juice.”
“You can get plenty drunk off champagne, idiot,” Osamu mutters, knocking Atsumu in the head. Atsumu scowls and kicks his shin.
“Tsumu,” Suna sighs, “if you want to go back to your place, you’ll either have to call a cab or walk home,” he says. “I’m not letting you drive my car.”
“What?!” Atsumu exclaims.
Suna sighs again, preparing himself for an oncoming tantrum.
“I’m a responsible driver! I swear i won’t crash yer car!”
“No,” Suna states with an air of finality.
Atsumu looks pleadingly at the pair. They’re not really gonna leave him to suffer here are they?
Osamu and Suna stare right back with impassive faces.
They definitely are. If anything, they’ll be more glad that Atsumu is off sulking while they're having the time of their lives. Atsumu sighs dejectedly, accepting his cruel, cruel fate.
“Ugh. Fine then,” he says. He narrows his eyes at the two of them, “If I end up in a ditch somewhere, know that it will be yer fault.”
“Good riddance,” Osamu scoffs at him. He laughs at Atsumu’s offended face. “Now give us some privacy, ya pervert,” Osamu says, pushing Atsumu towards the main hall.
“Or,” Suna says, “you can stand there and watch us have fun.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at Atsumu.
Atsumu throws them a disgusted look and makes his way back to the centre of the party, grumbling about how mean they both are to him.
A cool wave of air hits him as he steps into the main hall. At least they have air conditioning in here. He doesn’t think he would’ve survived without that. Even with the air conditioner on, his mask clings to his face uncomfortably. He itches to take it off, but he knows that that might get him thrown out. As much as Atsumu hates this party, he would rather stay here than be abandoned on the street. He takes in a deep breath and prepares himself for another bout of pleasantries with snobby people who look down on the likes of him.
His eyes fall on the drink counter placed at a corner of the hall. He makes a beeline for it. A drink or two will do wonders in helping him through the night. Maybe he can lament all his woes to the bartender pouring out the drinks.
“Give me somethin’ strong,” he says to the bartender. He dimly notices that even the bartender is as well dressed as him. Almost better, if he’s being honest with himself.
The bartender raises an eyebrow at his accent, but complies with his request. He grabs a bottle from beneath the counter and pours its contents into a small ornate glass.
Atsumu marvels at how the man makes pouring alcohol seem like a pretentious task. He thanks the man and downs the glass in one shot, ignoring the strange looks the man keeps shooting him. He supposes rich people sip at their drinks daintily instead of throwing it back like him, but that can’t be helped. He really needs to get a few drinks in his system. He downs another glass of whatever concoction the man handed him and sits there for a few moments, admiring the hall. It’s probably bigger than his whole apartment. And this is barely one part of the mansion. He wonders whether all the rooms in this goddamn place have chandeliers and pillars. They probably do. It’s the Sakusas after all. They’re filthy rich. Atsumu could work his ass off for the rest of his life and still wouldn’t have half the wealth they have.
Atsumu orders another drink. The bartender eyes him and pours it out. Atsumu adjusts his suit and grabs the drink. He thanks the bartender again, receiving a nod in response.
With the drink in hand, he stands and wanders around, searching for a less crowded place.
Maybe I should just steal a bottle of whatever this is and go hide in a closet until Samu and Sunarin are ready to leave, he thinks as he artfully dodges the bodies moving around.
His eyes flit around the room and come to rest on a balcony at the far end of the hall. He heaves a breath of relief and makes his way towards his refuge. Finally, he can have some peace and quiet. No more having to stretch his face in a smile, no more polite small talk. Perfect.
Atsumu steps into the balcony and closes the door behind him. He walks over to the railing and sets his drink down.
“Damn Sunarin,” he mutters under his breath. He’s an idiot for dragging me here.
You’re also an idiot for agreeing to go, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Osamu’s pipes up from the back of his head.
He shakes the annoying voice away and picks up his glass. He sips his drink and stares out at the vast expanse of the Sakusa family’s property. Their yard is big, the edges lined by hedges artfully cut to resemble various shapes. A fountain sits in the middle of the yard with sparkling water running through it. Atsumu has to admit, it is pretty beautiful. He could probably spend hours out there in the midst of the beautiful grass. But he is stuck here inside the mansion, with people wearing clothes that probably cost more than his apartment. So he glares at the drink in his hand and silently curses Suna for dragging him here, and all the rich people for being such awful bores. A trashcan can hold a better conversation than any of the people here.
A click echoes through the air. Atsumu turns around, setting his glass back on the railing. He watches as a boy about his age slowly enters the balcony, casting quick looks over his shoulder.
The boy quietly closes the door and slumps against it, sighing softly. He raises a hand to push curly strands of hair out of his eye.
Atsumu stands stock-still, not daring to move. The boy hasn’t noticed his presence yet, and he doesn’t want to startle him. He silently takes in the boy.
He’s pretty, Atsumu thinks, eyes tracing the smooth lines of his face.
Even with a mask obscuring half his face, the boy is a sight to behold. A black suit hugs his tall frame, accentuating his broad shoulders. A sleek black mask sits snugly on his face, lines of black glitter running through it in a beautiful design. The left side of the mask is embellished with small silver jewels, and the black material extends out into a feathery design, its end disappearing underneath his hair. His suit has a silver pattern embroidered on the breast. Curly black hair hangs over the right side of the mask, partially obscuring it from view. His lips are pulled into a small pout, making him seem younger than he probably is.
Cute, Atsumu thinks.
The boy finally straightens up and raises his head. His eyes meet Atsumu’s, and he stiffens. The relaxed expression on his face is replaced with a wary look.
Atsumu gives him a small smile, not wanting to spook him. He reminds Atsumu of a deer caught in headlights, ready to bolt at any given moment.
“Hi,” he says, smiling at the boy. He hopes the boy won’t walk back out. He’ll take all the company he can get. And if the boy turns out to be an asshole....well, he can always go and bother his brother again. The idea doesn’t seem particularly enticing, so he crosses his fingers and prays that the boy is a decent human being.
The boy sizes him up and decides he’s not much of a threat. He steps forward and joins Atsumu at the railing, standing a few feet apart. “Hey,” he replies softly.
Atsumu grins, pleasantly surprised at the response. He wasn’t expecting one, to be honest. From what he could see of the boy’s face, he looks all serious. The soft reply spurs him to speak.
“What’re ya doin’ here?” he asks. “away from all the fun.”
The boy rests his arms on the railing. “I needed some air. The crowd can be a bit,” he hesitates, eyes flitting from the yard to Atsumu, and back to the yard, “suffocating, at times.” He turns his head away from Atsumu. “I’m not a big fan of events like these.”
“Oh me neither,” Atsumu exclaims, his heart doing a little happy dance.
Maybe the Gods do exist. They certainly seem to have taken some pity on Atsumu’s poor soul. Here is a boy who looks as bored as Atsumu. Atsumu takes the boy’s quiet admission as permission to lament about his day. But first things first. He extends a hand towards the boy, “I’m Miya Atsumu, by the way.”
The boy glances down at the outstretched arm and subtly angles his body away. Atsumu notices the shift and drops his hand, opting for a warm wave instead. The boy gives a small nod.
“What do you think about the-” Atsumu waves his hand in the direction of the main hall, “-the masquerade?” He turns to face the railing, leaning against it.
The boy shrugs at him.
He doesn’t seem like the type to talk much. That’s fine with Atsumu. He has no qualms about carrying the whole conversation himself. A lifetime with Osamu is bound to do that to a person.
“It’s kinda boring don’t’cha think?”
The boy remains silent, expecting Atsumu to continue.
“I mean,” Atsumu says, “who even hosts masquerades ? What is this, the nineteenth century?” He huffs a small laugh at his own comment. “You hafta be a real pretentious a-hole to host stuff like these,” he continues. “Then again, I guess the Sakusas must be pretty pretentious. Filthy rich too.”
The boy stiffens slightly at the mention of the Sakusas. Atsumu, being engrossed in his soon to be rant, pays no attention. The boy angles his body towards Atsumu, waiting for him to speak.
“I hear they have a son around my age,” Atsumu says, glancing at the boy. “People say he’s real mean. Always so cold and closed off.”
The boy fully turns to face Atsumu now. “Oh really?” he asks, an eyebrow shooting up elegantly. “I don’t think I’ve heard much about him.”
Atsumu looks appalled. “What?!” he exclaims. “Ya’ve never heard of him??”
The boy shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No.”
Atsumu searches the boy’s face. He seems interested in listening to what Atsumu has to say. Or maybe it's just Atsumu’s imagination. No, the boy definitely seemed interested. And who was Atsumu to deny him that. So he opens his mouth again.
“Well, I’ve heard people say that he’s got a nasty personality. I don’t remember his name. I think it was Uni or something like that. Like a sea urchin.”
The boy huffs a small laugh.
“Anyway,” Atsumu continues. “one of my friends said that he makes children cry just by glaring at him with his cold, cold eyes,” he says in a hushed whisper, like he’s reciting some very interesting news.
“He can’t be that bad,” the boy says. His eyes glint mischievously.
Atsumu gasps, offended. “Are ya sayin’ my friends are lying?” He narrows his eyes at the boy.
The boy laughs and shakes his head, curls tumbling around. Atsumu’s eyes follow the movement of the dark curls.
“No, not at all,” he reassures Atsumu. “Please go on. This kid seems very interesting.”
Atsumu gives him a grin and starts again.
“There’s more,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, making his mask move about his face. He fixes it in place and speaks, “They say he never allows people to come near him. Or even breathe the same air as him.”
Atsumu rattles off all the nasty rumours he’s heard about the Sakusa family’s only child. His drink sits forgotten on the railing as he explains how the boy supposedly yelled at an old woman for trying to kiss him on the cheek.
The boy listens intently to Atsumu, occasionally letting out small hums or little laughs to let Atsumu know he’s still listening.
Encouraged by the boy’s attention, he moves on to other topics, letting his mouth get ahead of him. He lets it slip how they weren’t actually invited, and tries to cover it up quickly. The boy doesn’t look alarmed or anything. He just huffs in amusement. So Atsumu keeps talking.
The sound of the balcony door opening interrupts him. They both turn to see a man dressed in a black suit close the door. He lifts a finger to his ear and mutters something into an earpiece. The man walks straight to the boy next to Atsumu. He stops a few feet away from the boy.
Atsumu stiffens, slightly intimidated by the man’s attire. In his honest opinion, the man looked like an assassin, complete with dark shades over his eyes and an earpiece. The only thing missing was a gun. Atsumu glances at the boy and sees him leaning against the railing, posture relaxed. Ah, not an assassin, then. Maybe some distant family member?
The man bows slightly to the boy.
“Your parents want you inside to meet someone, Sakusa-kun,” he speaks.
Atsumu jolts up. Wait what?! Sakusa???
“I’ll be there shortly,” the boy says.
The man nods curtly and marches back to the hall.
Atsumu turns to the boy, stupefied. “Yer-Yer Sakusa? ” he sputters.
Sakusa laughs lightly, a hand coming up to cover his mouth, “Yes. I’m Sakusa Kiyoomi. Pleasure to meet you, Atsumu.”
Atsumu stares back, jaw hanging open. “But— but you were— I was talkin'— what the hell.”
“I thought you would’ve figured it out earlier since you seem to know the latest news about me,” Sakusa says lightly, voice coloured with amusement.
Atsumu’s cheeks flame. He can’t believe he was talking shit about Sakusa Kiyoomi to Sakusa Kiyoomi himself. Atsumu takes back his words on the Gods taking pity on him. The Gods hate him and they relish in making him suffer in the worst way possible. Right now he feels like digging a ditch and burying himself in it. Let nature claim his traitorous body. He has no use for it after all.
“I have to head inside for a while.”
Sakusa’s voice breaks him from his train of self pity. He can’t bring himself to meet Sakusa’s eyes after spewing all that nonsense about him. He nods stiffly.
“I hope I’ll see you around again Atsumu,” Sakusa says, and leaves Atsumu to wallow in his thoughts.
Atsumu watches the retreating figure numbly. It takes him a while to fully comprehend what just happened. His eyes widen as he realises that he mentioned breaking into this mansion to Sakusa. Oh God, he needs to warn Osamu and Suna that the guards might start looking for them soon. They’ll surely strangle him for being dumb enough to actually go and tell the host of the party that he stole the invitations.
Atsumu slumps against the railing and downs the rest of his forgotten drink. He can’t even use being drunk as an excuse for his stupidity. He was perfectly sober when he decided to let his mouth take control for the night.
Atsumu allows himself to wallow in self pity for a few more minutes before slowly straightening up and going back to the main hall. Finding Osamu and Suna and getting out of this place is his first priority. Beating himself up about his questionable decisions can wait till later.
Atsumu excuses himself and pushes past the people swarming about. He tries to remember which way he came through. He wasn’t lying when he said this place is like a maze. It’s definitely the place being so huge and confusing, not him being completely bad with directions. He fiddles with his cuffs and scans the room, hoping that the two of them are somewhere in this room rather than an empty hallway doing God knows what.
The familiar mop of grey hair is nowhere to be seen. Atsumu feels like tearing his hair out. Why can’t his brother just stay in places where he can easily find him. Stupid ‘Samu.
Praying that he won’t lose his way, Atsumu navigates the huge mansion, walking past hallway after hallway, in search of one Miya Osamu and his boyfriend. After what seems like hours to him—which it wasn’t, because a glance at his watch told him it’s barely been ten minutes—Atsumu finds himself standing in a deserted hallway. He strains his ears for any kind of noise but is met with silence. He must be really far from where the party is if it’s this quiet out here. He retraces his steps, willing his useless brain to guide him in the right direction. He rounds a corner and bumps into a solid structure, face mushing against soft fabric.
“Sorry,” Atsumu mutters, and steps to the side to let the person pass.
“Actually,” the person says, “I was looking for you.”
Atsumu tilts his head up and meets the eye of the one and only Sakusa Kiyoomi. This is the worst possible moment for him to run into Sakusa. Actually, running into Sakusa ever , after what had happened, seems like the worst possible thing. He debates sprinting away from him at full speed and jumping right out of the window at the end of this ridiculously long hallway. Would that be considered as causing a scene? Atsumu didn’t really want to cause a scene. But if that is the only logical option, he has no qualms about creating a ruckus. They’re only on the first floor too. The drop won’t be too bad. At most, he’ll end up with a nasty bruise. Or if he’s really unlucky—like he has been today—he’ll end up in the ER with a few broken bones. No, that would be very unlikely considering the fact that his fall would be cushioned by the Sakusas' luscious lawn and—
“You look like you’re ready to run at any moment.”
Atsumu snaps out of his thoughts, staring at Sakusa like a deer caught in headlights.
“If you think I’m going to call the guard or something, don’t worry,” Sakusa assures him. “You’re the only person here who’s at least a bit interesting. Even though you seem a little dumb.”
“I’m not dumb,” Atsumu glares, offended by the remark.
Sakusa laughs, "Says the person who told me, the host, that you snuck into the party.”
Atsumu opens his mouth to retaliate and promptly snaps it shut. That might’ve been a dumb move. That definitely was a dumb move. He accepts it. He’s a man who fully embraces his mistakes. But he will say that it was just a temporary lapse in his judgement. He isn’t always like this. Pshh of course not. Everyone tells him he’s the smarter twin.
Sakusa stares expectantly, waiting for Atsumu to counter his words. When the reply doesn’t come, Sakusa speaks, “Do you want to go back to the balcony?”
Atsumu thinks about declining the offer and safely escaping the party. But the small tinge of hopefulness in Sakusa’s voice makes him hesitate. It wouldn’t hurt to spend some more time here. All the damage that could’ve been done has already been done. So there’s no harm in staying.
“Sure,” Atsumu says. “Lead the way.”
Sakusa smiles at him. Atsumu follows him back to the balcony, grabbing one more drink when they pass the main hall.
This time, Sakusa strikes up the conversation. He asks Atsumu about mundane things and Atsumu is more than happy to reply.
Atsumu tells him that he was born and raised in Hyogo, but moved to Tokyo to attend university. He tells him about his part-time job at his childhood friend—Aran’s cafe, and about his flatmates, Hinata and Bokuto.
“You should meet them,” Atsumu says, eyes shining with excitement. “You’ll like them, I swear. They’re like full-grown bundles of joy. Ya can’t even be mad at them.”
Sakusa smiles and listens to Atsumu ramble on about his twin moving out to live with his boyfriend Suna after starting culinary school, and leaving Atsumu to fend for himself.
Atsumu in turn, asks Sakusa about his life, and Sakusa tells him how growing up as a rich kid was. He tells him how his parents were overseas for the most part of his life, and so he didn’t have many people to talk to, except his cousin, Komori. Sakusa had moved out of his parent’s mansion as soon as he was old enough, and now lived in a comfortable apartment, a few blocks away from Atsumu’s own apartment.
Atsumu learns that the rumours he’d heard about Sakusa were all very untrue. The people had called him mean, and stand-offish. Looking at Sakusa, who is stifling his laughter at one of Atsumu’s childhood stories, Atsumu can’t help but wonder how people could be so blind as to mistake this man to be mean. He learns that Sakusa only comes off that way because he was a my-so-phobe and tried his best to not let people touch him. The story about Sakusa making a child cry was true however, which Atsumu learns as Sakusa tells him about his life.
Atsumu bursts out laughing. “Ya really made a child cry??” he asks, gasping to catch his breath.
Sakusa throws a look of annoyance in his direction. “I didn’t make the child cry,” he retorts. “The child sneezed in my face and I couldn’t help but make a face and the child started bawling.” Sakusa’s face twists in disgust as the memory resurfaces.
Another round of laughter erupts from Atsumu, “If you’re talking about the face you’re making right now, I’m pretty sure that can make even a grown man cry,” Atsumu says, wiping tears from his eyes.
Sakusa schools his expression back into a neutral face. “It’s not that funny okay,” he grumbles, trying and failing to hide a small smile.
“Oh it is funny Omi-kun.”
Sakusa’s eyebrows shoot up. “Omi-kun??” he questions.
Atsumu, finally getting his composure back, smiles. “Yeah. Omi-kun. It’s much easier than saying Sakusa-kun or Kiyoomi-kun.”
Sakusa makes a face. “Don’t call me that,” he says, voice lacking any real bite. “My name is Sakusa.”
“Nah,” Atsumu smirks. “Omi-kun suits you better.”
Sakusa sighs and rolls his eyes.
They spend the rest of the night in each other’s company, laughing at stupid jokes and sarcastically commenting about the conversations they overheard.
Huh. maybe this party wasn’t all that bad, Atsumu thinks as Sakusa hands him his phone to put down his number. Atsumu types his number in, and gives it back to Sakusa who pockets it with a small smile.
“You’ll drop by at the cafe, won’t you?” Atsumu asks, as he’s preparing to leave.
“Yeah,” Sakusa replies. “I’ll come by when I’m free.”
Atsumu waves Sakusa goodnight and leaves to find Osamu and Suna. He feels uncharacteristically happy, given how the night started out. All things considered, Atsumu thinks everything turned out great. Sure he messed up a bit in the beginning, but that’s what led to him befriending the Sakusa Kiyoomi, and Atsumu counts that as a win. The one regret that gnaws at him is that he couldn’t see Sakusa’s face. It was obscured by that absurdly pretty mask. Sakusa probably looked absolutely ethereal underneath the mask.