Chapter Text
Sakusa was odd, and he knew it.
He’d never fit in, his curly hair and oddly placed moles setting him apart from everyone. And not only that, he was far quieter than anyone in class, keeping to himself, rarely talking to anyone except Komori. He was also a tad bit more hygienic than the kids his age and was rather disturbed when they didn’t live up to his standards.
Frequently all his life, he’s been told that he’s a hard person to love, that no one could ever love him, that it was just impossible to because of them. He doesn’t understand why they say that. He may not be the easiest person, but he’s not the hardest nor is he as hard of a person as they say he is.
He couldn’t really care less about it because why would he try to change himself so they would call him something he already is in his own way. Maybe then he might be lovable to them. But not to him. He’d rip himself apart if he’d ever do that. He’d be an alien to himself. It would be so unnerving to him, just waking up everyday to see himself in the mirror but living a different life, living a lie.
Sometimes he’s scared he already has. Sometimes he’s scared they’re right. Sometimes he’s scared that no one will ever love him. Sometimes he’s scared he’ll do anything to be what they say he’s not. Sometimes he’s scared he’ll wake up and live a repetitive life of a normal salaryman, not playing volleyball so he’ll be called successful.
He hopes all his nightmares will stay nightmares. They usually do.
Don’t they?
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
The All Japan Youth Training Camp was really unnecessary.
He had the school gym to practice in, he couldn’t see the point of playing with unfamiliar people, whether or not they were good or not didn’t matter as much as the comfort of a rather less crowded gymnasium and a team that was rather more hygienic than the rest.
The only thing motivating him to go was not only Komori but also the fact that he would have higher chances of playing on a Division 1 team if he had this camp in his resume.
But unfortunately not only did he not get his own personal bathroom, he had forgotten Wakkun wasn’t invited this year, him being a third year and all. It was just so boring. He had wanted to show Wakkun his and Komori’s new hybrid quick that they’d come up with recently.
And of all people, Miya Atsumu was invited once again to the camp. It could’ve been his twin or the Inarizaki captain but no.
He really couldn’t bear to relive last year, when Atsumu made it his job to be Sakusa’s resident big fat jerk who annoys him on a daily basis because “i’m yer friend kiyo”
He had obviously knew that Sakusa had a small thing for Wakkun and decided to sabotage every chance he had to talk to him by clinging on with his constant whinings of “but sakkun didn’t you said you’d spike my sets” “kiyooo~” while fake pouting.
It pissed Sakusa off to no end.
Miya Atsumu was clearly a menace to society and a cockblock to Sakusa.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
It was the last day of camp and after days of enduring Miya through his serves and spikes, he had a free period of 4 hours to explore Tokyo since the training camp was over except for debriefings.
Sakusa had planned to spend it packing his luggage, and maybe eat at his favourite izakaya since it was just a few blocks away.
But obviously Miya had to convince Komori to show him around Tokyo, which meant he’d have to go since Komori drags him everywhere like a toddler with his binky. He just knew Miya did it to spite and ruin Sakusa’s perfectly planned day.
Fuck Miya.
He grudgingly changes his outfit to something ‘suitable’. His neon outfits may attract attention but they’re light and easy to wear. It’s really not that hard to understand once you wear it. It’s ugly they said. Like Komori didn’t have that hype phase in junior high.
(It was horrifying.)
Miya was already waiting for Komori with a few other campers.
“I thought it was only Miya?” Sakusa asked while wearing his signature scowl.
“Well while he was begging me, the others kinda noticed that and decided to jump in and ask too since well, the rest of the Tokyo kids were either busy or packing.”
“Well I was one of them,” Sakusa grunted.
“Awh Omi-kun, at least ya got me eh?”
“Exactly. And it’s the worst I could’ve ever asked for.”
Atsumu frowns at this, his face painted with fake hurt and sadness.
“Was it cuz I ruined yer chance with yer Wakkun?” Atsumu whispers into his ear once they were in the back of the group.
“...no.”
Atsumu smiles in glee and triumph,”Ha! I knew ya had the hots fer him, ya lil’ minx!”
“Keep it down,” he hisses, even though the group was way too distracted to ever hear them.
“You know i have the hots for you too right,” Atsumu winks.
Sakusa just stares back blankly, not knowing how to respond, the confession, that is if it is one, barely registering in his head.
The Miya Atsumu.
Liking him?
The Miya Atsumu, the biggest and fattest jerk of all, likes him, Sakusa Kiyoomi?
It’s just not that possible.
“You’re lying aren’t you.”
“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’.
“Ugh just fuck off.”
It just makes Atsumu clingier.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Throughout the ramen shop, the arcade, and the manga exhibition, Atsumu has done nothing but cling to Sakusa like lint on wool pullovers.
He tries his best to stay as close as he can to Sakusa, surprisingly barely even intruding his boundaries.
He’s annoyed and stunned at the same time. It’s really ironic how a man that shitty can do both at once.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Komori corners him on their walk to the rink while Atsumu’s distracted talking to some girls who decided to join them.
“Atsumu’s into you isn’t he?”
He doesn’t reply.
Sakusa feels overwhelmed.
He doesn’t know how to feel. Is he supposed to be happy? Angry? Annoyed? Does he like Atsumu? Probably not. What does he even say?
Whatever. He couldn’t care less.
Ok that was a lie but moving on.
“So you do huh,” Komori smirks
“I don’t”
“You-”
Sakusa shrugs.
“Just stop. I really don’t. Or well, more like I don’t know if I do or what am I supposed to feel,” he admits, furrowing his eyebrows, conflicting thoughts passing his mind every second.
Komori laughs at him, but he’s too tired and too bothered to even shut him up.
“I’m serious.”
“Oh, I know,” Komori giggles,” But seriously, I still can’t believe someone likes you! Of all people, you, no offense though, but he’s Atsumu and you’re you. He’s definitely joking. Or not. It just seems surreal, you know, especially since he’s kinda a player and you’re not, well, boyfriend material.”
“Whatever. Who cares. I’m ‘unlovable’ anyways, aren’t I?”
“Kiyo-” Komori tries to apologize
“So whatcha talkin’ about?” Atsumu chirps, interrupting them.
“It’s nothing,” Sakusa says hurriedly as he walks away.
Atsumu yells for him to wait up and grabs his hand and pulls him to catch up with the group, which has long since made their way into the ice skating rink. Atsumu pays for both their tickets because it’s my treat omi-omi.
There are two separate rinks, the main one and the one for practice use for figure skaters which you would have to pay an extra 3000 yen on top of the entrance fee of 400 yen which was more than his entire month’s allowance, just to go in for an hour or so. Totally not worth it.
Guess which one Atsumu bought tickets for.
Atsumu pulls him aside to the special rink before Komori can even spot them, with the rest of the group already skating in the other one. Sakusa puts on his rented skates and fumbles as he tries to walk into the rink.
He grips on to Atsumu who doesn’t say a word, and somehow doesn’t try to tease him.
“Ya better now Omi-kun? Or ya wanna go back in and sit down? I’ll get some snacks,” he offers.
“Uh no thanks. But why are you being so nice to me?”
“I said I liked ya. I meant it,”
Sakusa looks at him with an air of suspicion.
“Ya don’t trust me?” he asks dejectedly, “I swear I do!”
“Whatever,” he turns away. How could he fucking blush in a moment like this? Atsumu would fucking mock the fuck out of him as long as he could. Thank god it wasn’t showing very obviously. How dare he make him blush, that bastard.
The words kept ringing in his head, ‘I said I liked you. I meant it.’ What did it really mean? Did he really like him? No guy had ever confessed to him before. He had never had a relationship. There was no point when you’re young. People get caught up in the moment and once they see your problems, they take the first chance they get out of your life. Getting your heartbroken at 16 isn’t worth it. He has his whole life ahead of him to fall in love with.
“Omi-omi! Come here! No one’s really at this end!” Atsumu half-shouts, to which Sakusa shrugs but still grudgingly skates as he tries not to fall to the other end.
Atsumu smiles at him and gives him a thumbs up and a “Awh ya did good Omi-kun, everyone falls their first time! Even I, the perfect Miya Atsumu did too!” to which he snorts but still mumbles a slight thanks.
They skate in silence, with Atsumu randomly blurting out questions and Sakusa dishing a one word response.
He doesn’t realise it when it happens. He doesn’t try to stop it. He pulls down his mask. He’s not hungry for them. He’s curious.
He’s curious to how they feel unfiltered, skin to skin, no mask in between them. He’s curious about how it feels, is it soft? Is it dry? He wants to know.
Atsumu licks his lips, trying to make out. He succeeds. It’s addictive, it’s pleasurable, it’s everything he and his logical and stubborn self missed out at 14, when they played spin the bottle.
Atsumu tastes sweet and creamy, the aftertaste of a pudding he’d just eaten. He wonders what he tastes like. Maybe mint. He likes mint.
It feels like forever, but he knows it's probably been less than half a minute since they kissed and made out spontaneously.
He pulls away, blushing furiously, hoping no one saw them, hoping for the taste to last, hoping that Atsumu doesn’t hate him for it. In that split second he’s scared of the world and everything in it. He wants the throbbing in him to stop. Is it in his head? Or was it his heart? He just doesn’t know any more.
“I like you too,” he concludes out of nowhere, barely registering what he’d say.
“Omi- d’y- d’ya really?” Atsumu slowly grins, “I knew it! 'Samu said ya'd never like me back but he's always wrong. Plus, who could ever say no to this guy?” he proudly points to himself.
Sakusa smiles back. He's right, no one could actually not like Atsumu, no matter how annoying or loud he is. He's a paradox in itself.
ANd yet he doesn’t fully regret it. He’s still scared but the world can wait. He has a boyfriend to pamper now.
A boyfriend who loves him.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
They get weird stares afterwards. Atsumu doesn’t seem to mind, and so he tries not to as well.
Atsumu holds his hand as they skate, hugging him and occasionally attempting to dance. They’re not the best at ice skating or dancing on ice, but it feels so calming, so loving, so endearing.
He feels truly loved.
They lose track of time before Sakusa realises that they’re 10 minutes late as they scramble to put their shoes on and return the skates to the front desk where Komori stands waiting, hands on his hips, impatient and slightly angry.
As soon as they’re in earshot he lectures them, telling them they’re late and the group left without them.
“The girls left and more than half of them wanted both your numbers! I was only able to get one since I told her you were my cousin,” he complains with a glare. He feels literal chills. Komori rarely glares.
“And the guys were sorta pissed too! You both are chick magnets, I swear.”
“Well thanks I guess. But I’m not interested in them,” Atsumu laughs.
Komori instantly gets it. He knows. He bombards them with so many questions, Who asked the other out first? Was Sakusa blushing? Did you two kiss? And of course the usual Told you so!
Sakusa ignores his cousin, defending when necessary while Atsumu answers most of them.
The walk back seemed forever.
Atsumu had put both their hands in his pocket, constantly squeezing and rubbing them, reassuring him that this was not a dream, that this was real. He’d also given him one of his mittens, because your other hand must be freezing, omi-omi! Atsumu told him to keep it to remember him. Or whatever cheesy thing he’d said.
He doesn’t want this day to end, if it means Atsumu stays with him in Tokyo.
But it does. And they barely have an hour to pack and say their goodbyes. Atsumu hands him a piece of paper with his number scribbled in his horrid handwriting, and hugs him tightly, he feels his bones breaking before he pulls away, apologizing for hugging him without consent to which he brushes off. It doesn’t matter if he didn’t ask. It really doesn’t if it means that it's Atsumu hugging him.
“I’ll call you later,” he says as he adds the phone number to his contacts under ‘Miya Atsumu’ like the boring person he is.
He favourites it.
It’s a cold September afternoon. He’s walking back from the bus stop. He falls in love. It feels like the sun on a cold, dry day like this, soft and warm, but not too hot.
He loves it.
He loves Atsumu just as Atsumu does him.