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Their story begins in a library, as all good romances that start under questionable pretenses do.
Hinata Shouyou, a second-year, was humming (quietly, because again, the library) as he strolled through the stacks. He was searching for a particular book on the history of desserts, but he had not yet realized he was on the opposite side of the library from his quarry.
So it happened that, instead of finding a 100 year old recipe for strawberry roll cake, Hinata found Atsumu.
First-year Miya Atsumu, heartthrob of his class (tied with his brother Osamu, though Atsumu would never admit to such a ranking), was flipping through a book, muttering to himself, and decidedly blocking Hinata’s path.
Not that Hinata particularly minded. It was a rare chance to see Atsumu so absorbed in something, reading glasses slowly sliding down the bridge of his nose.
Hinata forgot to keep humming.
Atsumu, for his part, filled the silence between them with a frustrated “that’ll never work” and a too-loud closing of his book.
Though unfortunate for their fellow library patrons, the noise was fortunate for Hinata, because it jolted him out of his daydreams quickly enough to notice the title of the book was How to Successfully Date. Atsumu returned it to its place on the shelf.
“Is everything alright, Atsumu-kun?” asked Hinata. He was genuinely concerned for Atsumu, his precious kouhai who exclaimed loudly and with great delight any time Hinata offered to help with studying or share his snacks. But there was also a small, less noble part of Hinata that wanted to know who exactly Atsumu wanted to date. Morbid curiosity, Hinata told himself.
Atsumu startled so badly he nearly tipped over the shelf in front of him. (Thankfully for the poor first-year boy behind it, the shelf wobbled back into place once Atsumu grabbed it.)
“Hinata-senpai, I—” Atsumu swallowed hard, lowering his voice an octave and many decibels. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”
“You seem a bit upset, Atsumu-kun. Can I help you? What’s bothering you?”
“I… don’t think this is something you can help me with, Hinata-senpai,” said Atsumu, shuffling to stand in front of the myriad books on dating, as if he could block them all.
Hinata put on the brightest smile he could muster. “I can help you date.”
“You… help me?” Atsumu was barely managing to string together words at this point. “...date?”
“I’ve dated before. I can teach you what to do.”
It was difficult for Atsumu’s eyes to grow any wider, but he managed. “Would… would that be okay?”
“I’m not dating anyone now, so it’s fine,” said Hinata. “It doesn’t have to be serious. We just pretend to date for a bit, I show you the ropes, and then we ‘break up’ and you go confess to whoever you’re actually after. Easy.”
Atsumu, meanwhile, was well on his way to impersonating a tomato. “Easy,” he squeaked.
“So we’re on then?” asked Hinata, perhaps a bit too quickly, though Atsumu did not notice.
“Thank you, Hinata-senpai,” said Atsumu. He actually looked bashful for once, the poor guy.
“So what’s first, Hinata-senpai?”
They had agreed to meet behind the school in the afternoon, and though Hinata had been eagerly awaiting most of the day for the appointed hour to become “now,” he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a terrible idea.
He was going to get his heart broken, wasn’t he?
“Have you ever confessed to anyone?” asked Hinata. Morbid curiosity struck once more.
“N-no.”
If that was a creeping bit of relief and selfish satisfaction, Hinata refused to acknowledge it. “Okay, well. Why don’t you give it a try?”
Atsumu opened his mouth, and no sound came out.
“Pretend it’s just to me,” prompted Hinata gently.
“I—” Atsumu looked like he was ready to march to his own execution. “Hinata-senpai…”
Hinata waited, heart pounding away in his chest. It was counting down to its own doom, that’s what it was. A false confession, before their inevitable “break-up”? It felt like he was speed-running a romcom.
“I…” Atsumu squeezed his eyes closed. “I’m sorry, Hinata-senpai. Please forgive me. I’m feel like I’m going to faint.”
Well. This was a bit early for his heart to break, but it shattered nevertheless. Hinata buried the shards of his heart and patted Atsumu on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Atsumu-kun. Let’s work on easier things, then.”
“Hand holding?”
“Is that alright, Atsumu-kun?”
They’d met at a park this time, on the weekend. It gave Hinata a bit of time to piece together his heart and lock it away in an iron cage. This was for Atsumu’s benefit after all, not whatever slivers of false hope Hinata had managed to dream up.
So now they were sitting on a bench under a shady tree, tucked a bit away from the main path, in case Atsumu was still shy.
Hinata held out his hand, and Atsumu stared at it like it was the first time he’d ever seen one.
“I’m sorry, I’ve never…” Atsumu reprised his role as a tomato.
“Is it okay that I’m taking your firsts away? We don’t have to do this.” Hinata felt another uncomfortable churn of his stomach.
“It-it’s not that at all. I’m happy you’re helping,” said Atsumu. He seemed to puff up, as if drawing confidence from the air he inhaled.
With trembling fingers, he lowered his hand into Hinata’s.
Hinata bit back a sigh. Holding Atsumu’s hand was like taking a nice nap in a patch of afternoon sunlight. Although, perhaps sunlight didn’t sweat quite so hard.
“There you go.” Hinata patted Atsumu’s hand with his other, and Atsumu looked back with an expression so fond, Hinata almost forgot this was just pretend.
“This is nice,” said Atsumu, gripping a bit more firmly now. He finally relaxed against the bench.
Hinata leaned back too, heart stuttering, and wondered who Atsumu was imagining in his place.
They worked through more basics. Learned each other’s likes and dislikes. Went to a little cafe and had a drink together. Fed each other a shared slice of cake. Went to a movie. Went to two movies. Had a longer walk in the park after the sun went down.
They were firsts for Atsumu, but they weren’t firsts for Hinata, and yet. Well, that was the problem: and yet.
“Kissing?” asked Atsumu. They sat shoulder-to-shoulder against the trunk of an old Japanese maple. They’d just watched the sun set together, dusk still peeking over the distant rooftops beyond.
“It’s the only thing left. Then I officially declare you solid boyfriend material.”
“I still haven’t managed to confess,” said Atsumu, looking at his feet. His shoes clicked together, a metronome for Hinata’s heartbeat to follow.
“I’m sure you can do it, Atsumu-kun.”
Atsumu blew a strand of hair out of his face, and turned back to Hinata. “So, you’ll show me how to kiss, Hinata-senpai?”
“Y-yeah,” said Hinata, suddenly feeling like the world tipped sideways. “If you’re sure it’s okay for me to be your first kiss.”
Atsumu nodded. “I’m sure.”
Hinata bit his lip. “So, take your hand and put it on my cheek.”
And Atsumu obediently followed, fingers grazing against Hinata’s ear, and then his jaw. His thumb came to rest right on Hinata’s cheekbone, where Hinata could himself heating up. “And then?” Atsumu asked softly.
“Lower your mouth.”
Atsumu snorted quietly from above him. “Not exactly romantic, is it?”
But he lowered his mouth, and now those brown eyes were peering right into Hinata’s, and Hinata… forgot.
Hinata closed that final gap between their lips, keeping his eyes open just long enough to see the look of surprise on Atsumu’s face. And then he leaned into the kiss, and Atsumu melted along with him. Arms wrapped around Hinata, and Hinata tangled his own hands into Atsumu’s hair, dragging his fingers along the shaved undercut.
Atsumu let out a soft moan against his lips.
And then… and then Hinata remembered again.
He wrenched himself away, panting and feeling his heart run itself to death in his chest.
“Hinata-senpai?” Atsumu looked suddenly shy. “Was that okay?”
“Y-yeah. Of course it was. You’re a good kisser.”
“So you think I’m ready?” asked Atsumu, eyes full of dreams.
“Yeah,” said Hinata. And he passed all his last hopes to Atsumu.
This story ends in a library, as all good romances that start under questionable pretenses do.
Hinata Shouyou, a second-year, was avoiding Atsumu until he caught wind of whoever Atsumu finally confessed to. Their first kiss was seared onto his lips, and even now, he found himself absently touching a few fingers to his mouth, as if that could recreate the sensation he craved.
So it happened that, Miya Atsumu, first-year, approaching from the opposite side of the library, found Hinata—in a quiet corner, face (but not hair) hidden behind a book.
“Hinata-senpai,” he said. “Can I speak with you?”
“Atsumu-kun, what is it?” Hinata thumped the book onto the table. Morbid curiosity struck a third time. “Did your confession go well?’
“I haven’t confessed yet.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you need me to practice with more?”
“N-no,” said Atsumu. His brows furrowed, and he appeared to stare intently at Hinata’s book, though Hinata wasn’t sure if Atsumu really wanted to read about the history of pudding. “I um… I wanted to thank you, Hinata-senpai. For all your help.”
“Oh, but you haven’t even gotten your date yet. You can thank me later.”
“I’ve learned a lot from you, Hinata-senpai. I’m less scared now.”
“Well, I’m glad I could help,” said Hinata, with all the heartbreak of watching an ex move on. “Good luck—”
“Please date me, Hinata-senpai. I like you.”
This story ends in a library, but their story has just begun.