Work Text:
“What? She’s here for me?” said Atsumu. He pressed his lips together to hide the smile forming on his lips. As he attempted to walk to the gym doors as normally as possible, Aran tilted his head while Osamu wore an amusing smirk.
Atsumu leaned on the frame of the gym doors. “What’d ya want?” he asked you, trying to be as smooth as possible. His voice didn’t reveal his usual arrogance and was unexpectedly gentle.
“Could I see your hand?” you asked him with a quiet but direct tone.
When he held his hand out in front of you, you delicately turned it over, palm faced down, and positioned his fingers one by one. You didn’t notice him gripping the side of his jersey in his other hand, trying to keep it together every time your fingers grazed his skin. You let go of his hand to pull out your phone and angled it to get a good shot of his hand.
Click.
“Thank you Atsumu-san,” you told him, putting your phone away and leaving the gym.
Atsumu returned to the court, not even able to hide the childish grin from his teammates anymore. Some widened their eyes and others dropped their jaws as they witnessed the entire scene.
“So when did you start liking her?” Suna asked him.
“I don’t like her,” Atsumu adamantly responded.
A laugh escaped Osamu’s lips and Atsumu told him to shut up. He hated that his twin knew exactly why he was acting like this.
*****
“Well that looks ugly.”
Seated at your desk, you looked up from your sketch to see Atsumu’s scrunched up nose. It didn’t take long for it to disappear. Osamu whacked him on the head for insulting the quietest girl in class two and quite possibly their whole year.
“Sorry about this jerk,” Osamu told you. “He doesn’t have a filter.”
But when he started to drag Atsumu away from you, they heard the rare sound of your voice.
“Miya-san,” you said.
They both turned around but after looking at each other, they assumed you were referring to your classmate Atsumu.
“Why does it look ugly?”
“Ha?” Atsumu gawked at you. He scratched the back of his head. “I dunno. The shoulders just looked gross"–he got whacked on the head again–"Hey!” He glared at Osamu.
After they bickered for a bit, they turned their attention back to you, but you were already facing your desk, immersed in your sketch. Osamu raised an eyebrow at Atsumu, expecting him to know what that was all about, but he only shrugged his shoulders, not having a clue either.
The next time Atsumu heard your voice was when you came to see him at his desk.
“Ha? What’s this?” he asked.
In front of him, you had placed another sketch. You didn’t say a word but looked at him as if you were expecting some sort of comment.
Atsumu raised an eyebrow but looked at the sketch anyway.
“What’s wrong with this dude’s hand?” he asked as he squinted at the drawing, holding your sketchbook up to his eyes. “It looks like it’s dislocated or something.”
The classmate beside him shot his eyes open. He then looked up at you to see your reaction.
“Thank you,” you told Atsumu with a little nod before returning to your desk. Those were the only words you had for Atsumu and they had left him and his classmate speechless.
Atsumu’s eyes lit up the third time you came to his desk.
“Which one looks the worst?” you asked him, showing him three different sketches.
“This one,” he said, pointing to the one in the middle. “There’s no way a person could have hair like that.”
You ignored his comment and asked him again which one looked worse. He still chose the middle one, saying the expression reminded him too much of his brother.
You gave him a nod as thanks and as he watched you return to your desk, there was a small uptick at the corner of his mouth, gazing at you gathering your pencils together and continuing your progress.
Over the next couple of weeks, he watched you from afar as you drew doodles during class when you should’ve been paying attention. He wondered if he should actually write notes from the lesson in case you needed them. Maybe he’d pass them to you the next time you showed him your artwork.
But you hadn’t made a trip to his desk during the next two weeks. Why did you stop coming? So when you left the classroom, he quickly opened the sketchbook that was left on your desk and went through it page by page, curious to see what you’d been drawing this whole time. As he flipped through the pages, he saw how your drawings had gradually improved. He couldn’t help but smile at your growth as an artist.
“Miya-san.”
He jumped at your voice and snapped the book shut. He fumbled over his words. “I wasn’t looking! It just fell and I picked it up from the ground!” he told you. “When I put it back on yer desk it just happened t’ be like that!”
He then saw an expression he had never seen on your face. Your brows were furrowed and your lips turned into a frown. You let out a deep breath. “Miya-san, you’re free to look through my sketchbook, but please don’t lie to me.”
His eyes widened before he lowered them to stare at the classroom floor. Shoulders sagging, he told you in a hushed voice, “I’m sorry.” He sighed and dragged his feet back towards his desk. But just when he was about to pull out his chair, he heard your soft voice.
“Miya-san,” you said, looking directly at him when he turned to you. “Like I said, you can come and look at it whenever you want.”
Atsumu pressed his lips together, trying to hold back a stupid grin on his face. But his eyes betrayed his attempt as they crinkled and turned into crescents, elated at your offer.
*****
Over the next several weeks, Atsumu used any excuse he could to chat with you at your desk before he finally settled on talking to you about anything and everything. He tried to get to know you, asking you questions, but your answers were short and simple, not knowing how else to respond.
However, Atsumu shamelessly continued to talk about himself, his brother, the team, and whatever else was on his mind that day. You always nodded and listened with a smile.
“I think she’s just being nice to you,” commented Osamu.
“She’s never stopped me,” Atsumu replied with a huff, crossing his arms, which only resulted in Osamu shaking his head.
Without looking up from your sketch, you told him, “I like hearing him talk.”
Osamu’s eyes grew at your response but when he glanced over at his twin, Atsumu’s ears and cheeks had turned red.
“Oh?” the silver haired twin said with a sly grin. “You’re blushing ‘Tsumu.”
“No I’m not!” Atsumu said after clearing his throat and turning his head away. Osamu was about to tease him when instead, you said something that deepened his blush.
“It’s cute.”
Osamu’s jaw dropped. Atsumu froze at your comment before deciding to put his face down on your desk, burying it into his arms.
As you and Atsumu got to know each other, he learned that you were still close with your friends from middle school. They were there for you, always supporting you and your passion for art. But when you asked them what they thought about your drawings, they had always said they looked good. You were grateful for them but you couldn’t tell if they were just being nice.
“So is that why you asked me about yer drawings?” Atsumu noted. You confirmed it with a nod and he looked at you with longing eyes and a soft smile.
You caught him off-guard when you took a photo of him. “Your expression was interesting just now,” you told him. “I want to use it as reference.”
Atsumu blushed and covered the lower half of his face. He muttered something through his hands that you didn’t quite catch.
“Hm?” you asked.
“Y-you can use me as reference any time.”
You took him up on his offer. You’d often snap pictures of him, casually pulling out your phone when you’d find an interesting expression on his face. You even came to see him at practice when you wanted to practice drawing some hands. He often wondered what you noticed about him when you used him as reference, what expressions you saw in him.
One day after classes had ended and volleyball practice was cancelled, he sat at the other side of your desk as you switched to a different drawing pencil from your set. What did you see when you looked at him? His eyes? His nose? His lips?
His hand rose next to your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. When you looked up at him from your drawing, he pulled his hand back, suddenly realizing what he was doing.
He bit his lip, scolding himself for doing that to you. You called his name and his attention was back on you.
“Why did you stop?” you asked.
Butterflies were fluttering in his stomach, not at all expecting those words. Looking at you through his eyelashes, he saw you directly looking back at him. Were you serious?
Somehow getting the courage to make a move, he drew his hand toward you and gently cupped your cheek. He bent over your desk and brought his lips near yours, stopping midway as if waiting for permission to follow through. You leaned in a little closer and he closed the gap, feeling your soft lips against his.
Pulling back, his eyes studied your face for some sort of reaction. He bit his lip, doubting if that was what you wanted. Perhaps he didn’t do a good job or you had changed your mind after the kiss.
What if you were just doing this for reference?
He searched your eyes for an answer, not knowing that you saw the insecurity in his.
“I liked it, Atsumu.”
His eyes grew. He was both delighted and flustered, not believing that he got to kiss you, that you’d accept a kiss from someone like him. He hugged you and placed a kiss on your forehead, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close.
*****
“Guys! I have a girlfriend!” Atsumu declared, storming into the gym the next day. They all raised their brows when they saw who was holding his hand.
“Are you serious?” asked Aran.
“It’s probably fake,” Suna commented.
“He must have bribed her or something,” Osamu added.
“All of ya just shut up!” Atsumu yelled at them as they all gave him a skeptical look. He sighed and dropped his shoulders as he held your hand.
They snickered and teased him, but when there was a silent pause in the air, they heard your voice for the first time.
“I like him,” you told his team. Your voice was quiet but they heard every word. They freaked out, gawking at the two of you, an unlikely pair.
Atsumu turned his face away because his cheeks went red again. Your words, more often than not, caused him to be up in a fluster.