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"Kinda weird to be picking your ex up at the airport," Osamu says, the tone in his voice just as mild as if he were talking about the weather.
"We're friends," Atsumu reminds him, picking up the bag of rice balls he'd ordered. "Friends pick each other up at the airport all the time."
"Bring them rice balls, too?"
"He says he missed them, shouldn't you be happy about that?" Atsumu asks, ignoring the look Osamu throws him as he heads out of the store and gets into his car, Onigiri Miya rice balls on the passenger seat next to him.
He's used to the ridiculousness by now, though, and at this point, he's been broken up with Hinata longer than they ever even dated—it's really more of an inside joke with Osamu. He thinks.
It's not like they ended things on bad terms—when they talked about it all those years ago, they agreed that they worked better as friends, especially with everything they had going for them. Hinata was heading off to Brazil to give the world a go; Atsumu was never going to leave Japan. They didn't see the point of keeping anything long-distance, not with the value they both placed in physically being near their partner.
As far as Atsumu's concerned, it worked out fine. They stayed on good—even great—terms through all these years. They talked at least once a week to catch up. Hinata would always try to swing by Osaka every time he made it back to Japan, and Atsumu even visited him a few times in São Paulo. They hung out as often as they could anytime the national team got together, playing as seamlessly on the court like they'd been playing all these years.
Hinata was one of Atsumu's first calls once he started thinking about retirement, and the next things he wanted to do with his career.
And Atsumu was the first person Hinata told when the Black Jackals sent him an offer for the second time, more than a decade after their first.
"Is that what you want to do?" Atsumu had asked.
He could still hear the way Hinata's voice rang clear from the other end of the line when he said, "I think it's time."
They haven't seen each other in a while—schedules got busy, flights were scarce—but Atsumu spots him right away when he gets to arrivals. He lifts a hand to wave, and Hinata—strong shoulders, tanned skin, freckled smile—runs over to give him a flying tackle.
Atsumu wheezes, the wind knocked right out of him as he laughs. "Good to see you too," he says, arms wrapped around Hinata's waist before he carefully sets him down, his back only twinging slightly from the effort. He grins at his friend, who has grown older over the years but hasn't really changed. "Welcome back, Shouyou-kun."
Hinata beams. "I'm home, Atsumu-san."
They run into some traffic on the drive back, but there's enough to catch up on that Atsumu barely notices. As always when he's done these intercontinental moves before, Hinata doesn't take a lot with him—clothes and some equipment, enough to fit in two bags, the rest sold off or given away and then, to stock up the new place, bought new or secondhand.
"Made sure your new spot had the basics, though," Atsumu tells him. "Cooking supplies and a futon, at least, but nothing in the pantry yet."
"Oh, you didn't have to do that!" Hinata says. "Let me know how much I owe you—"
"It's a welcoming gift, don't think too hard about it," Atsumu says with a wave of his hand. Moving's always a little expensive, and Hinata's moved a lot in his time. "You'll like the place, though. I think."
"It's not where your old building was, right?"
"Nope, this one's a new construction, wasn't even around last time you visited," he confirms. "East-facing, like mine, so you've got the morning sun there, and there's a balcony you can meditate on if you like. It's walking distance to that ramen shop you like, too, and not too far from the park. Your unit's about the same size as the last one, but the layout makes it seem more open. It mirrors mine, actually."
"I can't believe you got the one right next to yours."
Atsumu grins. "Your timing was great, for once. At least you know one of your neighbors isn't a complete asshole," he adds, to Hinata's laughter.
"You like it okay?" Hinata asks, because he'd picked an apartment based on where Atsumu's was. The way he reasoned it out, if Atsumu liked it, he should, too.
"I think it's nicer than the last one," Atsumu says with a laugh.
Hinata snickers along with him. Atsumu's last apartment was fine, but it did have a few quirks. "Does Hana-san like it, too?"
"Um. She did," Atsumu says, tapping on the wheel. "But we broke up a few months ago."
"What?" You didn't tell me, goes unsaid.
"She was—she wanted to move in," Atsumu explains. "I wasn't ready. But I thought it was kind of a sign, you know? We've been seeing each other two years at that point."
"Yeah," Hinata says. "I'm sorry."
He doesn't press for why, like Osamu did, nor does he talk about what a shame it was because Hana was such a nice girl, like his ma did. Atsumu's glad for that, though now he feels a little guilty for not mentioning it in the first place, like when it happened. Hinata had told him when he broke things off with Antonio since he was moving away from Brazil. But Atsumu sort of saw that coming. Antonio would either have moved with Hinata or it would've been the end of that. Hinata's not the kind of man who comes with a lot of baggage.
"It's fine, and it's better that it happened then instead of later," he says. He'd told himself the same thing when things fell apart with Hisashi, and then again with Chihiro. Third—fourth time's the charm, or something. "I'm okay. Swear."
It's not like it's even the worst heartbreak he's ever had to go through.
Hinata arrives just in time to get ready for the coming season—a few days of IKEA trips, grocery store runs, and a visit to Onigiri Miya later, he shows up to the Black Jackals training camp and is immediately put through the paces.
"He's in really good shape," Coach Foster tells Atsumu as they oversee the drills.
"He's going to be playing until he physically can't anymore," Atsumu agrees, blowing the whistle to get the setters started on their next drill.
Hinata's breathless and sweaty when he jogs over during the next break, gratefully taking the bottle of Pocari that Atsumu hands him and taking a few deep gulps off it. "Wow," he gasps. "That was harder than I remember it being."
"You're welcome," Atsumu says with a laugh. There's a lot of things that would be different from what Hinata remembered of the Black Jackals. He holds up his phone, makes Hinata smile as he takes a snapshot and sends the picture over to the group chat the old team has. "Is Bokkun still mad you didn't join the Green Rockets with him?" he asks as soon as Bokuto sends a sad-face sticker in response.
Hinata groans. "I told him I'd make it up to him next time I'm in Tokyo!"
"Sakusa too," Atsumu reminds him. "He didn't say, but he's probably personally insulted you didn't take his hint about the Adlers."
"Oh no! How badly is he annoyed with me?" Hinata asks, wincing.
Atsumu hums. "I'd say just be ready next time we're up against them," he says.
"Hey," Suna says, walking up to them both and grabbing one of the water bottles next to Atsumu. He'd transferred over from the Raijin a few years back, even managed to play with Atsumu in his last season with the Black Jackals. He eyes Hinata like he's trying to figure out what to report back to Osamu. "How's this new and improved team stack up to the one you used to play with?"
Hinata laughs at the way Atsumu sputters his protests. "It's a little weird," he admits. "A lot's different now, but I can tell this team is going to be very, very strong."
"Now we don't got any dead weight hanging around," Suna says, smirking at Atsumu. He finishes the rest of his drink and pats Hinata on the shoulders. "We'll show you how the Black Jackals play now."
Hinata grins. "I'll be in your care, then," he says, bowing. He glances at Atsumu once Suna's gone, laughs at the pout he's wearing. "Atsumu-san."
"Hm? Is it really that different now?"
"In a lot of ways, yes." Hinata chews on his lower lip. "But I'm glad you're still here. That not everything changed."
Atsumu laughs. "Glad I'm still here too."
And in the face of everything that's different, it becomes so, so easy to fall back into old habits. Into the familiar.
Like heading out to Onigiri Miya after practice the way they used to do, only now Suna's always there picking on Atsumu as well, as he munches on his free meals and Hinata laughs along and tries to defend Atsumu's honor. Atsumu burying his face in his hands, whining about the betrayal of his own brother, while Hinata gently pats him on the back.
Or ending up at one of their apartments in the evenings—easier now that they're literally next door to each other—and just making dinner or ordering takeout and hanging out to talk until it's late enough one or both of them starts to drift off—head falling against the other's shoulder—so they reluctantly go back to their own apartment for the evening.
Or being each other's first call whenever one of them has an errand to run or a thing they want to check out—picking up things the other's running low on while they're on a grocery run, doing some weekday shopping on a day off, catching the latest action movie during a matinee showing.
"That was a lot gorier than I thought it'd be," Hinata says as they leave the theater, glancing at Atsumu quickly before he grabs him by the hand and squeezes. "Atsumu-san. Are you okay?"
"Fine," he wheezes, grateful when Hinata gets him a bottle of water from the nearest vending machine. They find someplace Atsumu can sit down, Hinata next to him soothing his back. "Like you said. Lot gorier."
"You know, you could have closed your eyes."
"Then how would I know when to start looking again?"
Hinata laughs, their knees knocking into each other. "I'd have told you," he said. "So, I guess you're not up for grabbing dinner yet, huh?"
"Please let's not talk about food right now," Atsumu pleads, and though it takes them a few more hours before Atsumu feels like his stomach's settled enough that they can think about dinner, Hinata doesn't mention it.
"Next time, you can pick the movie," he promises Atsumu when he walks Atsumu to his door. He has the audacity to reach out and ruffle his hair, like he's giving a five-year-old kid a head pat, and the shamelessness to laugh when Atsumu whines about it. "Sorry," he says, retracting his hand. "Force of habit, I guess."
But habit from what, Atsumu isn't sure.
It's been years since they last occupied and lived in the same geographic range of each other, but it still takes alarmingly no time at all for both of them to fall back to the lighthearted banter, the easy compliments, the casual touches.
They're friends, after all.
It's what friends do.
Right?
It's Osamu who says it out loud, because he can never mind his own business.
"You know," he starts to say, watching Hinata excuse himself to go to the bathroom, late night drinks at Onigiri Miya winding down to just the four of them as it usually tends to these days, "you're not really as subtle as you think."
"This again?" Atsumu sighs. "I told you. We're just friends now."
"Suna, how long were we just friends for?"
"You wanna count the time certain benefits came along with that friendship, or—"
"You two are the worst," Atsumu informs them. "And it's not like we didn't try it or anything—we did, and it didn't work out. And now I'm over it. We're over it. We've been over it years ago."
Suna shrugs. "Never said you weren't," he says. "It just looks like maybe you're falling again."
Suna doesn't know what he's talking about.
He's always been a shit-stirrer, and hanging around Osamu the last couple years hasn't made him any wiser or smarter, unfortunately. It's pretty easy to avoid his gaze when Hinata hangs back with Atsumu after practice to talk about the plays he's working through with the starting setter—who is only twenty-two years old, such a kid, were they ever that wide-eyed and innocent?; pretty easy to laugh off the way Hinata casually hip bumps him on his way to the showers; the easiest thing in the world to extend the carpooling invite to Suna, even, and whoever else wants to hitch a ride with them, when the team decides where they want to go to dinner and Hinata calls shotgun in Atsumu's car.
"You don't have to try too hard now," Suna murmurs as he walks past, turning to give Hinata a bland smile.
"Everything alright?" Hinata asks, blinking at Suna, the question aimed at Atsumu.
"Peachy," Atsumu grits through his teeth.
Hinata gives him a look, but says nothing else as they head over to dinner, where the drinks and the food and the company provide enough distraction for them. Suna heads out first, when Osamu comes and picks him up, and not long after the more veteran players on the team do the same. Hinata and Atsumu stay until it's mostly the younger kids left, Atsumu gently herding them out once it gets later and they start getting a little rowdier.
"Are you okay to drive?" Hinata asks, touching his wrist and pulling him back before they leave.
"I stopped at one beer; I'm fine," he says, grinning. "Not the first time I've had to be designated driver."
"Oh," Hinata says, blinking wide before he breaks out into a beam. "As expected of our assistant coach!"
"I'm only a year older than you, you know," Atsumu reminds him later, once he's dropped off all the other guys and he and Hinata make their way back to their own floor.
"Yeah, but you're part of the coaching staff now," Hinata says. He sighs deeply, and it sounds almost wistful.
"Don't need to sound so sad about it," Atsumu teases, completely unprepared when Hinata glances up at him—bright eyes, soft gaze, the freckles brighter in the orange glow of the hallway lights.
"I wish we could have played together one more time," he says. Whispers into the empty corridor, praying into the space between them. "Wish I knew then it was gonna be the last time you set to me."
"Shouyou—"
Atsumu doesn't know who pulls who over, then. Who closes the shrinking distance between. Doesn't remember whose door they open and whose entryway they stumble into. Just focuses on the after—the press of their bodies against each other, the way fingers wind around locks of hair and dig into tender flesh, the welcome heat of Hinata's mouth against his.
How it carries the same sweetness as before.
How Atsumu remembers it clearer than ever.
It was in Los Angeles for the Summer Games the last time Atsumu set for Hinata. They'd won the match off that toss, a quintessentially daring play only the two of them could pull off. Drunk off a celebration, heady from a win, nerves alight from sharing the same space for the first time in a long while without anybody waiting back home for either of them, they'd woken up the next day in a tangle of limbs, heads fuzzy and bodies sore, the weight of something that could tip them over a precipitous edge hanging in the quiet moment of clarity between them.
We shouldn't have done that, Atsumu had said, because he hadn't wanted to hear it from Hinata first. They didn't need to ruin anything.
Hinata's already awake when Atsumu stirs this morning, when he wakes up buck naked, covered only in Hinata's blanket, taking up more than half of Hinata's bed. Hinata's looking at him with piercing hazel eyes, the kind of gaze that always seemed to bore straight through your soul.
"Atsumu-san," he says just as Atsumu opens his mouth to speak. "Should we not have done this, too?"
It looks like he already has an answer. Atsumu's not sure what it is. "What do you want me to say?" he asks, helpless. "Do you think this is a mistake?"
Hinata shakes his head. "I asked first," he says.
"That's not fair."
"Why not?" Hinata smiles. "But I guess I've always been selfish. And you've always let me be."
"That's not—"
"It's true," Hinata murmurs, his gaze falling down. Atsumu realizes then he'd held Hinata's hand in his sleep. That Hinata hasn't let go. He loosens his hold but all Hinata does is gently trace his thumb up the lines on Atsumu's palm, fingertips rough and calloused and his hold warm. "I don't want to say what I think first. I don't want you to say what you think I want, either. Like you did in LA."
"Hinata—"
"You're allowed to be selfish, too, Atsumu-san," Hinata says, squeezing his hand once before letting it go. "Even if it means telling me this was a mistake. I can take it. Kinda deserve it, don't I—"
Atsumu pulls him over, palm cupping the back of his neck so he can tug him closer, his lips slotting into place the way he remembers to kiss Hinata, who clings to his arms and kisses him back with equal ferocity, with equal fervor, like they've got years and years and years to make up for. Like he's determined to make up for every lost minute.
"Did you come home for me," Atsumu wants to know once they've pulled away for air, cupping Hinata's face in his hands, his forehead resting heavy on Hinata's own. Presses a closemouthed kiss to his lips, his mouth moving against his when he asks, "Did you come back to me?"
"Is it okay if I did? Atsumu-san, will you let me?"
"What do you think?" Atsumu asks, huffing out a laugh. "What do you think, Shouyou?"
Hinata beams, wrapping his arms around Atsumu's waist as he deepens their kiss. "Then, I'm home, Atsumu."