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“I’m going to spit in his coffee.”
“He’d probably be into that.”
“Poison it is, then.”
It had been three weeks since Kiyoomi started working the morning shift and exactly two weeks and six days since he’d known peace.
He didn’t mind waking up earlier to make it into Yama Coffee, or having to shift around his courseload so that his classes were in the afternoon. He’d even slowly, if a bit reluctantly on his part at first, fostered a new friendship with the other employee that usually joined him on the shift. By most standards, it wasn’t a bad routine to fit into his daily life.
Unfortunately for him, it just happened to coincide with the routine of a certain customer that liked to stop by after his 8am classes.
“What are the odds that his class got canceled today?” Kiyoomi asked as he ran a rag over the counter, cleaning up the mess from the first morning rush.
“I think he’s a morning person, so he’d probably come to see you anyway,” Suna answered. Kiyoomi sighed.
“Ugh. Any chance you want to work the register, then?”
“Not at all,” Suna said, barely bothering to look up from his phone. “I don’t like talking to the customers either.”
“You aren’t the one getting harassed!”
“I’ve still got seniority privileges, you should’ve switched your shifts sooner if you wanted to call the shots.”
Kiyoomi’s glare at his coworker went unnoticed as Suna continued to scroll through Twitter, unbothered.
As if the customer in question had been waiting to stage his entrance in time with the lull in their conversation, the chimes hanging above Yama’s door rang through the shop. Kiyoomi sighed and set his rag aside, taking his place at the register with the enthusiasm of a prisoner headed to the gallows.
A few heads turned as Miya Atsumu strolled through the cafe’s tables toward the counter, unsurprisingly — it always seemed like he had just left a runway instead of his class, with his bleached hair carefully styled and backpack hanging effortlessly off one shoulder, as though he was the star of some teenage romcom.
He doled out a few waves to patrons of the shop that he recognized before turning his attention to Kiyoomi, perfect white teeth glinting in the warm light of the cafe as he gave the barista a devilish grin.
“You’re working today, too? I should buy a lottery ticket with this kinda luck.”
“What can I get you?” Kiyoomi responded flatly.
“Can I go off menu and ask for your number?”
“No.”
“Alright, just make it a latte then. Extra hot,” Miya said with a wink.
“Name?”
“Come on, are ya really still gonna act like ya don’t remember me?”
“Name?”
“Ugh, fine. Atsumu.”
Kiyoomi nodded as he took his marker to the to-go cup in his hand, stubbornly penning “Miya” in block letters under the rim. He slid the cup over in Suna’s direction once he finished, tapping a few buttons on the iPad in front of him to input Miya’s order.
“That’ll be 300 yen.”
“No friends and family discount?”
“You’re neither friend nor family, so no. I don’t even think we have one of those.”
“Just give it time, Sakusa, give it time. Rin, be sure to actually make it right, yeah?”
Suna held up a middle finger with his free hand as he steamed the milk for Miya’s latte with the other. Kiyoomi swiped his card and spun the kiosk around in accordance with the shop protocol, though he’d happily skip out on a tip to get Miya out of his hair sooner if he could.
The last time he’d tried that, though, Suna had not-so-amicably reminded him that tips were split amongst the employees on shift — Kiyoomi was even less interested in having to sit through that lecture again.
Luckily Miya hadn’t come alone, and Kiyoomi was able to busy himself with taking the orders of his friends while the blonde waited for his drink at the end of the bar. Even so, Kiyoomi could still feel him staring, practically itching for the opportunity to chat Kiyoomi up again.
“I’m taking my break,” Kiyoomi said to Suna once the line in front of the register was taken care of, trying not to smirk as Miya’s face fell before he stepped into the back room of the shop.
He sighed and sat down on the metal folding chair Suna had snuck in a few months earlier (that somehow hadn’t been thrown out by management) and rested his feet on top of an unpacked box of coffee filters.
While he pouted in his ever-so-luxurious hiding spot, Kiyoomi’s mind started to wander. Would it really be so bad to agree to one date? Maybe if he went, and it went as poorly as he expected, it would get Miya Atsumu off his back.
There was no denying that Miya was attractive, of course — he had half of the campus in the palm of his hand, waiting for the chance to be his next lover. Kiyoomi wished that he was better than being attracted to his tanned skin, firm muscles, and sharp smile, but he was still just a man, after all.
It might even be the smart move to just get it over with. Miya had given him his number about ten times by now. Should he finally use it?
Kiyoomi shook his head, willing away the wicked voice in his head that was willing to entertain that line of thought.
If he was feeling that desperate, then it’d probably been too long since he’d gone out with anyone — anyone that wasn’t Miya Atsumu. Kiyoomi pulled out his phone and opened a long-untouched dating app, refreshing a few of the photos on his profile before starting to swipe through the eligible bachelors at the university.
Kiyoomi swiped left or right almost mindlessly, not bothering to read most of the profile’s descriptions. He wasn’t an avid user of dating apps by any measure, but he’d been on them enough to know that the version people presented of themselves was usually bullshit, anyway. He’d rather save his time and find out if there was a connection through conversation after getting a match.
It wasn’t long before he had a few flirtatious messages sitting in his inbox — it was a little reassuring to know Miya wasn’t the only one interested.
He’s handsome, Kiyoomi thought as he scrolled through the profile of one of his suitors. Imada Haru might just be exactly what he was looking for, considering he’d sent one of the more respectful introductory messages out of the bunch (Kiyoomi made a point of ruling out anyone who used a winky face within their first five texts).
He’d just shot off a quick reply to Imada’s message when Suna’s voice rang out from the front of the shop.
“He’s gone, you can stop sulking now.”
“I still can’t believe you know him,” Kiyoomi answered as he walked back out to the bar. “Seriously, Rin?”
“He’s around a lot,” Suna shrugged.
After a few more hours and just as many text messages snuck in between customers, Kiyoomi’s shift was over and he had a date set for Friday night. Imada’s choice of plans being a fraternity party was… well, less than ideal, but after the moment of insanity where he’d nearly considered going out with Miya, Kiyoomi would take what he could get.
Just a few more days and he’d have that arrogant asshole out of his system for good.
Atsumu unlocked the door to his and Osamu’s apartment just after noon. He’d attended all his classes for the day, and Suna and Osamu must have recently finished up lunch, since they were tucked away in the kitchen washing and drying plates in a practiced pattern. Flopping onto the flimsy couch, he threw his bag onto the ground a few feet away.
“That’s the middle of the fuckin’ floor, ‘Tsumu-”
“Can’t you see I’m busy pining? I don’t have time for stupid shit like organization.”
Osamu and Suna exchanged a glance in the kitchen before readying their hands for a game of rock paper scissors. After a decisive loss and gratuitous eye roll on Suna’s part, Suna made his way to the open armchair in the living room, falling into the seat with a groan.
“You’ve got five minutes.”
Atsumu sat up, ignoring the clear disinterest in Suna’s voice as he geared up for a one-sided heart to heart.
“I don’t know what it is, I just feel like Sakusa’s somethin’ special.”
“That’s a weird way of saying you want to fuck his brains out.”
“Rin!”
“What? You always get all sappy when you’re having a dry spell. We’ve been friends long enough for me to know, unfortunately.”
Atsumu glared at Suna.
“I don’t know what it is. He just draws you in, and I mean, god, have ya actually noticed how fuckin’ cute those moles are? I feel like I could find out everything about him and still never get bored.”
“I can’t say that I’ve had many carnal thoughts about my coworker, especially considering I’m in a very happy relationship.”
Atsumu gagged.
“Your loss. Why won’t ya just help set me up?”
“I’m not going to be implicated when you get sent to court on stalking charges. This is your problem.”
“Ya just want to see me crash and burn, admit it.”
“That is a perk,” Suna hummed.
Osamu batted his hands at Atsumu’s legs, apparently finished with his kitchen clean up for the time being. Taking a seat on the now-free section of the couch, he gave Suna a small nod, as though accepting the passage of the baton.
“He’s been shuttin’ ya down like crazy though, hasn’t he? Dare I say it, but could you possibly consider that he might just not be into you?”
“Ya just don’t get it, ‘Samu, not all of us can be childhood sweethearts. The whole hard-to-get thing is just part of his charm.”
“Tell him about what happened today, then,” Suna interrupted.
Atsumu felt his face flush red as he remembered his trip to Yama Coffee a few hours before.
“I asked him to surprise me with a drink,” he mumbled. “I thought it might be fun. Learn a little more about what he likes, and try something new while I’m at it, right?”
“Sure,” Osamu said, dragging the word out until his apparent doubt almost reached scathing sarcasm.
“He said he made me a salted caramel latte, and that’s technically not even in season, it’s on the holiday menu.”
“And how’d it taste, Miya?” Suna asked.
“So bad, like, horrifically bad. But I think he almost smiled when he saw me take a sip.”
“I watched him pour a full cup of salt in when he was making it.”
“Thanks for the warning, asshole!” Atsumu spat as Suna and Osamu burst into laughter.
“So would you say…” Osamu finally managed to force out, looking at Atsumu with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“No, Samu, please don’t-“
“He’s a little…”
“I’m begging’ you, ya don’t have to do thi-“
“Salty about gettin’ hit on all the time when he’s just tryin’ to do his job?”
Atsumu groaned and kicked his feet at his brother, who barely managed to dodge the hits between laughs.
“I fuckin’ hate you, do you know that?”
“Yeah, well, it’s not a walk in the park bein’ stuck with you either,” Osamu said. “But really though, you always do this — ya get this idea in your head about how perfect someone is before ya even really know them. Remember when ya told that kid from Karasuno that you were gonna set for him one day in the middle of a game?”
“It was the heat of the moment!”
“Yeah, well, it was weird. You come on too strong, ya have to actually give the other person the chance to get to know you — and no, the pickup artist routine doesn’t count. And maybe try to do it when the other person isn’t trapped at work.”
“I would, if I knew anything else about where to run into him,” Atsumu replied with a glare at Suna.
“I don’t even know that much about him! He plays it pretty close to the chest,” Suna said in self defense. “To be clear, though, I wouldn’t help you even if I could.”
Atsumu sighed.
“I feel like ya both just want me to give up.”
“I mean, kinda,” Osamu said gently. “But only because you’re hurtin’ your own chances at this point. Don’t dig yourself into a hole you can’t climb back out of.”
Unfortunately, Atsumu had to admit that Osamu’s advice made sense. He could tell that Sakusa’s patience was wearing thin, and everything he’d already tried to win him over just wasn’t working. He’d honestly started to feel a little guilty about the whole situation even before Osamu’s scolding.
He let out a dramatic sigh as Suna and Osamu bickered over what show to pull up on the TV now that Atsumu’s five minutes of one-sided couples therapy were over.
Maybe it was time for Atsumu to resign himself to the whims of fate — if he and Sakusa managed to somehow meet outside the coffeeshop, it was a sign. This time, he’d get it right, and take advantage of the (somewhat) clean slate to actually prove he was worth Sakusa’s attention.
The odds were probably slim, and it was anyone’s guess how long it would take. But for Sakusa, Atsumu didn’t mind waiting.
Despite Kiyoomi’s hopes, his date was turning out to be nothing short of a disaster. After sneaking away under the pretense of looking for the bathroom (and making sure he was out of Imada’s line of sight), he shook his head with annoyance over the wasted night.
Kiyoomi could stomach the fact that Imada was already drunk when he showed up, given that the party was in full swing by the time he arrived. He even let Imada’s wrinkled shirt and the fact that he had definitely lied about his height online slide, since looks aren't everything, after all. But he had to draw the line when Imada spent a solid two minutes trying to convince Kiyoomi to take a shot straight from the bottle after who knows how many mouths had been wrapped around its lips, and then had the audacity to pout when Kiyoomi refused.
They were unquestionably not a match, no matter what the dating app said. Now, the only question was whether Kiyoomi should spend a little longer at the party, avoiding Imada and taking advantage of the free booze, or if he should just go home.
One more drink won’t hurt, he thought before pivoting toward the kitchen.
“Shit, sorry!”
A few drops of beer narrowly missed Kiyoomi’s shoulder as the stranger that had bumped into him pulled the two cups in his hands away at the last minute.
“I totally didn’t see ya there, that’s my bad,” the stranger said, and with each syllable Kiyoomi started to feel an uneasy familiarity rise in his gut.
Oh my god, I’m an idiot, he cursed internally. The number of times he’d seen Miya wear shirts with this fraternity’s letters on them to the coffeeshop, and he didn’t think to prepare for running into him at one of their house parties? What an unfortunate oversight.
Sakusa braced himself for the inevitable, readying a rejection for whatever pickup line Miya chose for tonight. As always, Kiyoomi had to reluctantly admit that Miya looked good — he must have even finally figured out how to use a proper toner, given that his hair was sporting a new silver hue.
Surprisingly, Kiyoomi’s gaze was only met with a moment of awkward silence before Miya muttered a weak goodbye and exited the kitchen.
He’s probably here with someone else, then, Kiyoomi scoffed, grabbing a beer from the fridge before making his own way back into the fray.
He could see Imada over in the front corner of the main room, holding a pair of legs in the air as one of his brothers did an admittedly impressive keg stand. It didn’t seem like his night was much worse for the wear since Kiyoomi had ditched him, but still, he made his way toward the back of the room to avoid detection.
A quick glance down one of the dark hallways of the house told Kiyoomi that he’d been right in his assumption that Miya was here with his own date. Even in the dim light, he could make out Miya’s sharp jawline and thick eyebrows as he whispered in the ear of some lover, passing one of the cups he’d filled in the kitchen into the man’s waiting hands.
Miya’s counterpart was a mystery, his face obscured while Miya leaned in to talk over the music. Kiyoomi sipped his drink and watched for a moment, wondering what kind of self respecting individual would actually let themselves be taken in Miya’s charms.
Suddenly, Miya’s head moved, and before Kiyoomi could avert his gaze he found himself locking eyes with…
Suna?
Kiyoomi thanked the universe that he’d just swallowed his last sip of beer, because otherwise he would’ve found himself in the midst of an unfortunate spit take.
What the fuck, he thought as Suna beckoned him over, seemingly unphased. This can’t be happening.
His feet carrying him down the hall as if on autopilot, Kiyoomi tried to parse through the facts. Suna had a boyfriend, at least as far as Kiyoomi remembered, though he wasn’t sure exactly when he’d mentioned him last. Miya was a menace, and had been shamelessly hitting on him for weeks. Miya also had a nickname for Suna, one that he used while Suna watched him hit on Kiyoomi.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Suna said with a laugh, reaching an arm out from behind Miya’s back to shake Kiyoomi’s hand. “I’m glad to see you’re getting out these days.”
Miya watched the exchange wordlessly, shifting slightly so that Kiyoomi and Suna could talk. Were they both just going to pretend this wasn’t an unimaginably weird situation? Was he the only one experiencing a tidal wave of embarrassment?
“Did you come with-”
“I thought you were seeing someone!” Kiyoomi interrupted, unable to make it through small talk with Suna in his current state. “Why are you here with him? ”
Suna cocked his head as Miya brought a hand to his eyebrows, rubbing the bridge of his nose as though he was already tired of the conversation.
“Yeah, this is my boyfriend?”
Kiyoomi sputtered, unable to process the scene unfolding in front of him.
“He thinks I’m Tsumu, Rin,” he said, his voice tired.
“No he- oh my god. Oh my god, no way, ew!” Suna howled, holding his stomach as he bent over with laughter. Under different circumstances, Kiyoomi probably would’ve been amused by the drastic change in Suna’s personality after a few drinks, but right now, all he wanted was to melt into the floorboards and die among the puddles of spilled beer.
“We’re twins,” not-Miya explained while Suna cackled, slowly facing Kiyoomi as though he were a scared animal. “Rin and I have been datin’ since high school, Tsumu’s just been along for the ride. I probably should’ve introduced myself earlier, but I thought it might make ya uncomfortable — I’m Osamu.”
“This is worse,” Kiyoomi said under his breath before turning to Suna. “You could’ve told me, I thought Miya was just any other regular customer.”
“I didn’t think it was any of my business?” Suna offered weakly, fighting to keep a straight face.
Kiyoomi felt his blood boiling and spun on his heel, walking away from the conversation before he said something he’d regret. He knew he wasn’t really as mad at Suna as he felt, but to have an already unsatisfying night end on such a sour note wasn’t putting him in the best headspace.
Making his way through the crowd of bodies in the house, he spotted a sliding glass door tucked in the back of one of the rooms that seemed to lead out to a porch. I’ll just catch my breath, he thought, slipping past a few girls sharing a bottle of vodka stolen from the kitchen. Then I can walk home, clear my head.
Pulling the door closed behind him, he took a deep breath of the cool night air as muffled music rang out from inside the house. He could still feel a deep flush across his face — curse his pale complexion for making it impossible to hide his emotions. He just needed a minute to gather himself, to process the night’s events alone before braving the journey back to his apartment.
“Oh my god, it’s you.”
This time, there was no mistaking it — Miya Atsumu was there in the flesh, his smoke break serving as yet another nail in the proverbial coffin of Kiyoomi’s night out. Kiyoomi stopped in his tracks and started to turn to go back inside before the blonde started to sputter, piecing together strings of words as though they reached his mouth before his mind.
“Hey, wait, don’t leave! Look, I can go, if ya don’t want to be around me. I just needed some quiet, but — not to be rude, or anythin’ — it seems like you could use it more than me. I’ll just get out of your hair.”
Kiyoomi cocked his head as Miya flicked the extinguished butt of his cigarette into a trash can and started to move toward the door. Based on past experience, he would’ve expected Miya to leap at the chance to keep Kiyoomi cornered at a party.
Before he could remember just how terrible of an idea it was, Kiyoomi spoke.
“Wouldn’t you rather be in there with all your friends, anyway?”
“Don’t say your friends like that, jesus, you came to this party too,” Miya said with a low laugh. “They’re all great, but we had some unexpected guests arrive. Besides you, of course.”
Kiyoomi nodded and took a sip of his beer, keeping his eyes on Miya without a word.
“It’s dumb, I just- my ex showed up, and I really didn’t feel like dealin’ with it. Thought I had a free pass after he graduated, but turns out he wasn’t done messin’ with my head, I guess,” Miya continued after a few moments of Kiyoomi’s expectant silent treatment.
“You never really struck me as the commitment type.”
“Well, it’s a lot easier to act all lovey-dovey when the person you’re datin’ doesn’t keep you like some dirty secret. God knows what kind of issues I have to unpack to figure out why I even bothered stayin’ with him for so long,” Miya shook his head. “Anyway, I don’t wanna jump right into trauma dumping the first time I actually get ya to have a conversation with me. I’m fine, I swear.”
“Okay then.”
Against his better judgment once again, Kiyoomi let himself linger on the porch even though he could easily make his way home now. He took slow drinks from his beer as Miya lit another cigarette, blowing smoke into the cool fall air. It surprised him that the rumors surrounding Miya’s dating life were just that — rumors — but it wasn’t like having a long term relationship suddenly made a man a saint.
“Sure seemed like you were runnin’ away from something too when ya came out here. Could’ve taken you for a deer in the headlights with that look on your face,” Miya eventually said into the silence.
“I met your brother.”
“I promise, whatever he said about me isn’t true-”
“Suna introduced us. After pretending not to know you for the whole semester. It’s not like he owes me anything, but… I didn’t take it very well.”
“That definitely tracks, but I’ll give him a beatin’ in your honor anyway,” Miya said. “Wait, if you saw how his drunk ass is with Samu, that doesn’t mean ya thought-”
“That you were here with him? Oh, absolutely.”
Miya groaned.
“Oh god, that’s so gross.”
“If it makes you feel any better, that was pretty much his reaction too,” Kiyoomi answered with a slight smile.
“I don’t know, I still feel like I should be insulted by that,” Miya laughed. “The real question is, did you feel even a little bit jealous seeing “me” all over your coworker?”
“I think confused is the word you’re looking for, considering I’ve done everything I can to try and shake you.”
“Yeah, I actually wanted to apologize for that. I know you’re just tryin’ to get through the day, it’s not fair of me to keep botherin’ ya even if I could go for ages without giving up. Thanks for not banning me from the shop,” Miya said. “And for comin’ out here, I guess, so I could say I’m sorry. I’ll stop, I promise.”
Kiyoomi hummed.
“If I knew this was all it would take, I would’ve come by here a lot sooner.”
“Nah, it takes a while for me to realize that I’m bein’ a dick. No one’s ever said that self awareness is my strong suit.”
Kiyoomi almost laughed at Miya’s self-deprecation before catching himself, lifting his beer to drain the last drops and cover the upward quirk of his lips.
“Why did you even come here tonight? I gotta say, out of all the places I hoped to run into ya, this was probably my last guess.”
“I had a date,” Kiyoomi replied reluctantly. If Miya was going to be embarrassingly honest tonight, Kiyoomi figured that he owed him the same courtesy. “Not one to write home about, though.”
Miya’s eyes lit up as though Kiyoomi had just placed a perfectly wrapped gift out on the porch.
“With who!?”
“No.”
“Oh, come on, ya gotta tell me. These are my brothers, after all,” Miya teased, wiggling his eyebrows.
“I really don’t.”
“Ya know just how stubborn I am, I’m gettin’ it out of you.”
“You come into the coffeeshop everyday and still don’t think you’ve met your match? I’m not telling.”
“I just told ya that you won that battle, at least let me go down with some dignity. Maybe it’ll save some other poor soul from the same fate if I know who managed to actually win ya over the right way.”
“That’s a bit of a stretch, considering he’s half the reason I’m hiding out here.”
“Pleeeeaaassseee please please pleaseplease-”
“Imada,” Kiyoomi mumbled, just barely loud enough to not be considered a whisper.
“Nooo, not him,” Miya groaned. “Even I could’ve told ya that was a waste of your time.”
“Isn’t it fraternity code or something for you to have his back?”
“I mean, he’s a great guy, but there’s nothin’ he can offer someone like you.”
“And you can?” Kiyoomi asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“I’d like to think I stand a chance,” Miya said as an uncharacteristically shy smile crossed his lips.
Maybe if he’d been this way from the beginning, Kiyoomi would’ve actually given him a shot. It wasn’t like he’d fallen in love with Miya in the 15 minutes since he’d walked out onto the porch, but this side of him was almost… endearing?
Kiyoomi was saved from following that train of thought by the sound of the porch door opening, followed by a head poking out into the cool air.
“Hey, Oomimi and I have the next table if you want to get in a game of pong.”
Miya shot a quick glance at Kiyoomi before answering.
“Hold the spot for me? I need a second.”
“Sure thing,” the brunette answered before closing the door behind him.
“Okay, hear me out-”
“No way,” Kiyoomi said immediately.
“Look, we’ve both had less than perfect nights, why don’t we wipe the slate clean and have a little fun instead?” Miya whined, pushing out his bottom lip. “No strings attached. We’ll just rewrite some of the shitty memories in this house.”
Kiyoomi could use another beer, but the thought of drinking from the clearly unwashed cups on the pong table nearly made him shudder.
“Just give me a second to get things ready,” Miya continued, already moving toward the door. “Oh, you should take my coat, too — you’re shivering.”
“Am not,” Kiyoomi protested, even though he could feel the night’s chill settling under his skin.
“Is it because it smells like cigs? I promise I don’t usually smoke, tonight was an exception-”
“I don’t mind that,” Kiyoomi answered, fiddling with the tab on his now empty can. It wasn’t like he could tell Miya that he was half planning to slip away after he left the porch and didn’t want to accidentally steal from him in the process. “I just don’t get why you’re still trying so hard around me.”
“I’m not,” Miya said, his brows knitting in confusion. “It’s just the right thing to do.”
Miya’s coat was already off his shoulders by the time he finished speaking. Almost hesitantly, as though expecting Kiyoomi to reject it, he reached out the hand holding it in Kiyoomi’s direction.
“It’s a little short in the sleeves,” Kiyoomi murmured after putting it on. The fabric was still warm, and though it did smell a little like cigarettes like Miya expected, another pleasant scent lingered that Kiyoomi couldn’t quite place.
“Still looks better on you than me,” Miya said, a faint blush growing on the tips of his ears. “I won’t even be 5 minutes, okay?”
Kiyoomi hummed and Miya made his exit, a hurried “be right back!” echoing through the closing door.
It had been surprisingly easy to talk to Miya outside of the coffeeshop, when he wasn’t acting like the worst version of himself to catch Kiyoomi’s attention. It wasn’t like Kiyoomi enjoyed seeing him with hurt feelings (well, maybe a little at first) but the honesty that he approached his problems with was a refreshing change of pace from most of Kiyoomi's other college colleagues.
Maybe…
Kiyoomi shook his head and pulled Miya’s jacket a little tighter around his chest. The cold had to be slowing his brain functions.
“See, I told ya I’d be quick! Ready to come in?” Miya’s head popped out from behind the door, his large hands holding a few more cans of beer. “I didn’t think to ask what ya wanted, so I just grabbed more of what you were drinkin’ before, if that’s okay.”
“I still really don’t want to play,” Kiyoomi answered, picking one of the cans from Miya’s haphazard grasp as he stepped inside.
“Look, I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but it’s the germs thing, right?”
“How did you-”
“Seen it a couple times at the shop. Whenever Rin tries to make ya taste something ya either say no or get your own cup.”
Kiyoomi blinked, surprised that Miya would remember such a trivial detail. Especially since he’d likely just gotten a harsh rejection from Kiyoomi moments before that ever happened.
“So I changed things up a little — we’ve got water in the cups, and if someone makes a shot you just drink from your own. Problem solved, right?”
“Are you even allowed to do that?”
“That’s the beauty of livin’ here,” Miya teased. “I get to make the house rules.”
“I hope you know that I’m probably a terrible partner.”
“You could miss every shot and I’d still enjoy your company. Besides, I’m good enough for the both of us.”
There it was again, the shameless confidence — but this time, it felt a little less grating.
“Riseki, Oomimi! Y’all ready to go?” Miya yelled as they approached the table, setting his extra cans to the side of an array of red cups.
“Have been for ten minutes,” a brunette answered from the other side.
“Alright, alright, we’ll let ya have first go then,” Miya said before turning to Kiyoomi. “Ya know the rules?”
“Throw the ball into a cup?” Kiyoomi replied dryly.
“Good enough! Let’s get this show started.”
The other team took their first shots at Miya’s signal, one sliding into a cup in front of Kiyoomi and the other rolling off into the night.
“Okay, you drink for that one and move the cup outta the way, I’m grabbin’ the ball.”
Kiyoomi took a sip as Miya dove under the table, apparently setting any pride aside for the sake of the game.
“Now watch and learn,” Miya said when he finally popped up from below, ball in hand. “This is how the pros do it.”
With a flourish Atsumu pulled his hand back, closing one eye as the judged the angle of his shot. A flick of his wrist later, the ball was in the air, soaring in a neat arc…
Directly to their opponents’ feet.
“Real professional, Atsumu,” someone teased from across the room.
“I’m still warmin’ up!” he replied indignantly over the laughter of their spectators. He passed the remaining ball over to Kiyoomi before continuing. “On the bright side, it’ll be tough for you to be any worse than that.”
For a moment Kiyoomi wondered if he should ask if there was an actual technique to the game before deciding against it — he’d been winging it all night since he’d ditched Imada, so why stop now?
Apparently his logic was sound, considering that his shot sunk neatly into one of the cups on the other side of the table without so much as hitting the rim.
“Look at that, you’re a natural!” Miya cried, nearly spilling his drink as his hands flew up in excitement. “Do you have a secret sports career or something?”
“I played volleyball in high school,” Kiyoomi admitted. “Not sure how well that translates, though.”
“No shit! What position?”
“Outside hitter, usually.”
“I was a setter,” Miya said. “I think I just wanted to be the one that touched the ball the most when I started as a kid.”
“That… definitely follows.”
“It’s too bad we weren’t in the same division, I bet ya would’ve given us a good game. Maybe that’s for the best though, I had a whole habit of fixatin’ on any good players we went up against.”
“And now you’ve moved on to baristas?”
Miya laughed.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Kiyoomi glanced down at the table to find that their competition had already taken their turn, and that they now owed two drinks.
“I think we’re up, Miya.”
“Now that you’ve met Samu, can ya stop with the Miya thing? It’s confusing.”
“I’ll think about it,” Kiyoomi hummed, even though he wouldn’t mind avoiding more opportunities to get the two mixed up.
The rest of the game passed quickly, only interrupted by trips to chase down runaway balls and Atsumu’s shit-talking of the other team. Suddenly, they were down to three cups on the table — thankfully, their opponents had missed their last shot, leaving only two cups in the way of Kiyoomi and Atsumu’s victory.
“Okay, it’s your turn to go first. Ask for them to give you a Gentleman’s,” Atsumu said over Kiyoomi’s shoulder.
“Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“It’ll make it easier to shoot, they line the cups up one after the other. Like these guys,” Miya answered, his thumb reaching up to just faintly brush against Kiyoomi’s forehead. Kiyoomi stilled, the gentle touch spreading across his skin like a balm.
As though his mind had finally caught up with his body, Miya pulled his hand back like he’d been burned.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“Gentleman’s, please,” Kiyoomi called across the table, saving Atsumu from his panicked apologies and himself from the wayward thoughts that wanted Atsumu to touch him again.
With the adrenaline coursing through his body it was no wonder Kiyoomi made his next shot, leaving Atsumu with only one cup to clear before they won the game.
“Don’t mess this one up,” he teased.
“Trust me,” Atsumu replied with one of his trademark winks, tossing his ball into the air with barely a second glance at the table.
“No,” Kiyoomi said under his breath as the ball sank neatly into the cup.
“YES!” Atsumu yelled, jumping into the air wildly. His feet hit the ground with a mildly concerning thunk before throwing his arms around Kiyoomi and pulling him into a crushing hug.
Kiyoomi’s hands hovered over Atsumu’s back as his brain fired off a thousand thoughts a second. He heard the cheers of their spectators as though they were underwater, the syllables beating out a rhythm only matched in irregularity by Kiyoomi’s heartbeat.
Hesitantly, he returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around Atsumu’s broad back for a moment before the blonde seemed to gather his senses and pulled back.
The excitement of the win was written plainly on his face as he looked up at Kiyoomi, wide brown eyes glowing under the multicolored LED lights strewn around the house.
“It’s pretty late,” Kiyoomi said once he caught his breath. “I should probably go.”
Atsumu’s face fell for a moment before pulling himself together, his typical easy grin sitting a little less comfortably on his lips.
“Yeah, it’s my fault for keepin’ ya here. Let me walk ya out at least.”
Kiyoomi followed in Atsumu’s footsteps as the blonde wove through the house toward the front door. Instead of just waving Kiyoomi off when they reached the porch, Atsumu stepped outside, closing the door behind them.
“I should give this back,” Kiyoomi said as he started to pull off Atsumu’s jacket.
“No, keep it — ya actually have to get home, I’m just walkin’ upstairs.”
Kiyoomi knew better than to try to protest. Once again, Atsumu was proving to be surprisingly thoughtful, even if he did his best to hide it under the whole golden-boy-on-campus persona.
“Here,” Kiyoomi said, pulling his phone from his pocket and holding it out in Atsumu’s direction.
“What am I- are you askin’ for my number?”
Kiyoomi felt a faint heat grow on his cheeks and hoped that the dim evening light would be enough to hide it. Curse his fair complexion for making it impossible to hide the rare moments he actually felt flustered.
“It’d be hard to return the jacket, otherwise. I don’t need you to start coming in every morning again.”
“And my wallet thanks you for that,” Atsumu laughed as he entered his contact info. “Does this mean I finally get yours?”
Kiyoomi pocketed his phone and walked off without answer, strolling toward the bus stop near the end of the block. 24 hours ago he would’ve called himself crazy, but he actually had a pretty good night in Miya Atsumu’s company. He almost hated to admit it, but he wouldn’t mind seeing him again.
Before he could lose momentum, he pulled his phone out once more and typed out a message that just said “Kiyoomi,” returning it to his pocket before he even confirmed that it sent. No need to dwell on what was likely a stupid decision.
It was probably for the best interests of Atsumu’s pride that he seemingly didn’t realize Kiyoomi could still see the front porch from the bus stop. If he had, then Kiyoomi wouldn’t have gotten to enjoy watching Atsumu check his phone and do an incredibly embarrassing fist pump before sprinting back into the house.
I’m never going to hear the end of this, Kiyoomi thought, imagining Atsumu running straight to Suna to tell him about the events of the night.
But for the first time, he didn’t hate the idea of Miya Atsumu sticking around in his life.
Atsumu had always prided himself on being a good date — well, maybe he wasn’t the best date, Suna and Osamu made him painfully aware of all his personality flaws, but at the very least, he could plan a good night out.
Every night except tonight.
Plan A had been a picnic, which had been quickly foiled by a glance at the evening’s weather forecast. Plan B was also out by default, then — there wouldn’t be much to see at the university’s astronomy tower through cloudy skies.
By the time he reached Kiyoomi’s apartment, all his hopes were riding on Plan C. At least it was a good one, or so he thought.
“We’re going to a museum?”
Maybe it was because he’d only seen Kiyoomi out of his work uniform once before, but Atsumu was barely able to string together a thought as they strolled down the sidewalk toward their destination. It wasn’t fair for someone to look so good — it was barely decent, for christ’s sake.
“I thought it’d be nice since it’s close to your place,” Atsumu answered, talking an extra long step to avoid a crack in the sidewalk and pointedly ignoring Kiyoomi’s scoff in response. “Besides, ya seem like the intellectual type.”
“Do I now?”
“Smarter than I am, at least,” he laughed.
“It doesn’t seem like that’s a very high bar…”
“Hey! I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid,” Atsumu protested, and he could’ve sworn that Kiyoomi almost smiled.
They only had to walk a few more blocks before arriving at the museum. It seemed a little quiet as they approached, but Atsumu figured most of its visitors came during the day, anyway.
“Why’s there a sign on the door?” He asked after they made it up the stairs.
“Well, based on all the bold letters,” Kiyoomi answered. “They’re closed for renovations.”
Atsumu felt his heart rate quicken. It was fine, they’d just move on to Plan D — wait, there was no Plan D. They could just go to dinner, but he hadn't made any reservations, and he always felt like dinner dates were needlessly awkward, anyway. It wasn't like they could go and grab coffee — he doubted that Kiyoomi would want to pass the time at Yama when he wasn't contractually required to be there.
He was a hair's breadth away from stepping away to call Osamu in a panic when Kiyoomi spoke.
"Why don't we just order in and watch something at my place?"
"Sakusa Kiyoomi, are you asking me to Netflix and chill?" Atsumu asked incredulously before he could stop himself.
"I could see all the wheels turning in your head while you tried to come up with a backup plan and I didn't want you to hurt yourself. Besides, it's close by, and I can kick you out whenever I want. And you can pay for the takeout," Kiyoomi said calmly.
"Well, I can't argue with that logic," Atsumu said with a defeated nod. So much for impressing Kiyoomi on their first actual date.
Kiyoomi's apartment was small but cozy, and painfully tidy, a fact that didn't surprise Atsumu very much. After stepping inside Kiyoomi went to the kitchen to scrounge up takeout menus, leaving Atsumu to fend for himself in the living area.
Atsumu noticed the jacket that he had leant Kiyoomi neatly folded on one of the side tables and spent a second wondering if this date really was just an excuse for Kiyoomi to return it and cut the cord between them. No, don't count yourself out yet, he thought, shaking his head. Why'd he even let you plan a date if he just wanted to give it back?
One of the walls of the room was covered by a large bookcase and Atsumu busied himself with studying the titles on the shelves as a distraction. He must not have been too far off in his guess that Kiyoomi was a bit of a nerd, based on his extensive collection.
"Oh, I know this one," he said under his breath as he pulled one of the books from the shelf, flipping through the pages of familiar words.
"I wouldn't have pegged you for a fan of his work."
Atsumu jumped at the sound of Kiyoomi's voice, suddenly feeling like a kid who'd gotten caught sneaking into the candy drawer.
"I mean, I haven't read most of the other stuff he's written, but I loved this one when I was a kid. I think my Ma lost our copy in one of the moves, though, and it's just not the same on my phone or whatever."
"You can borrow it, if you want."
"Really?" Atsumu smiled, Kiyoomi's offer reassuring him that he wasn't in the apartment as an unwanted guest. "I'd like that a lot. Did ya see the movie they made a few years back?"
"It was awful."
"So bad, I know! But almost so terrible it's good, in a way?"
"It's entertaining, at least," Kiyoomi answered, setting a stack of menus on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch.
"I think we may have just figured out what we're watchin', then," Atsumu said as he made his way back from the bookcase. Taking a seat next to Kiyoomi, he rifled through their takeout options before plucking one from the pile. "Since I'm treatin' ya, does that mean I get to pick?"
"Works for me. Those are just my favorites, anyway."
"Wait, give 'em back, I didn't memorize them yet!" Atsumu joked as Kiyoomi set aside the rest of the menus and pulled up the website for Atsumu's chosen restaurant on his phone. Within moments, their food was ordered and the opening credits of their movie were playing on Kiyoomi's TV, and Atsumu felt like a coiled wire.
He'd taken the seat next to Kiyoomi on the sofa so he could look at the menus, but should he have sat in one of the open chairs instead? He hoped he wasn't coming off as presumptuous — it wasn't like he planned to jump Kiyoomi's bones or anything, but did Kiyoomi know that? God, why did he have to make that stupid Netflix and chill joke?
Every time his knee brushed against Kiyoomi's leg he had to fight the urge to jump, or apologize. Atsumu couldn't remember the last time he was this nervous on a date — casual flirting usually came as easily as breathing to him, but something in his subconscious told him that Kiyoomi was worth more than his typical tricks.
Was he overthinking this? He was definitely overthinking this-
"It's a small couch, Atsumu," Kiyoomi said after a few scenes of the movie had passed, moving the arm closest to Atsumu to the back of the sofa and angling his body to lean against its arm. "Just make yourself comfortable."
Slowly, Atsumu shifted to rest against Kiyoomi's side, his head resting in the crook of Kiyoomi's shoulder as his heart pounded in his chest. When a few minutes passed without any protest from Kiyoomi, Atsumu felt his muscles relax, a warm glow settling across his skin in all the places they touched.
"I know this isn't exactly what you had in mind," Kiyoomi said when he walked Atsumu to the door, takeout boxes long discarded and movie finished. "But I had a good time. You can get a do over with planning for the next one."
"Next one?" Atsumu asked. "Wait, you actually want to go out again? I thought I tanked my only shot."
"I'm getting pretty used to giving you second chances," Kiyoomi answered with a small smile.
"Okay then, yeah, absolutely! I'll call you, or maybe texting would be better, I can do whatever," Atsumu sputtered, already working through a new set of date ideas — this time he'd be sure to go through at least Plan G, if not further. "Do you like arcades? There's a-"
Atsumu's words were cut off by Kiyoomi's lips as he leaned through the doorway to give Atsumu a kiss, halting the chaotic river of thoughts coursing through his mind. It was short and sweet, the exact kind of kiss you'd expect on a first date, but still sent Atsumu reeling, the back of his closed eyes lighting up like a fireworks display as he took in every possible sensation from this moment — Kiyoomi's scent, the warmth of his skin against Atsumu's, the sound of evening crickets playing a background symphony for the best kiss of Atsumu's life.
"Call me," Kiyoomi said before sending Atsumu off in a daze.
It was only when Atsumu arrived home that he realized his jacket was still sitting in Kiyoomi's living room. It wasn't an issue now, though — Atsumu knew that he would be back.
"Congratulations on lasting a whole month on the opening shift," Suna said as Kiyoomi tied his apron around his waist. "Most people quit after a few bad rushes."
"Are you sure you don't force them out so you can skim the tips?"
"God, I wish. Too many people are using cards though, it'd barely be worth it to steal from the cash jar."
"I wouldn't put it past you," Kiyoomi teased. After he'd had the chance to calm down, it wasn't hard to forgive Suna for the misunderstanding at the fraternity party, and the two were back on good terms — and since Kiyoomi had been to embarrassed to bring the whole affair up, Suna probably didn't even realize that their relationship had ever seen a rift, however minor.
Both their heads turned as the bells over the door chimed, welcoming their first customer of the day.
"We literally just opened," Suna groaned, setting aside the carton of milk he'd been checking for an expiration date.
"That's not very good customer service, Rin," Atsumu said as he strolled up to the counter.
"Coming before class today? That's unusual," Kiyoomi asked, grabbing a to-go cup from the stack by the register.
"Yeah, there's an exam today — I can use all the help I can get," Atsumu answered. He took a quick glance around the coffeeshop as if to confirm he was really the only customer before leaning over the counter and dropping a kiss on Kiyoomi's cheek. "Had to come see my good luck charm, too."
"You're gross," Kiyoomi said, ignoring the flush growing on his cheeks.
"What he said."
"No one asked you, Rin!" Atsumu replied, glaring over the espresso machine before softening his expression and turning back to Kiyoomi. "Surprise me with something?"
Kiyoomi hummed, taking the cup behind the bar to make Atsumu's drink. He halfheartedly listened to Atsumu and Suna's conversation, ignoring the few times where Atsumu called out for backup against one of Suna's insults.
"Order up," he said after a few minutes, sliding the cup across the counter. Atsumu smiled and brought the drink up to his lips, taking a small sip before his eyes widened.
"Are we doin' the prank thing again? I feel so betrayed, Kiyoomi, how could yo-"
"I actually really like that one," Kiyoomi replied dryly.
"-how could you make something so delicious and not charge me, is what I was gonna say," Atsumu said, hiding a grimace as he swallowed. "I've gotta run though, this professor's a real hardass so I can't be late. Are we still on for tonight?"
Kiyoomi reached across the counter, grabbing Atsumu's collar to pull him over it once more before giving him a chaste kiss (ignoring Suna's protests).
"See you then."