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They were destined to be together, anyone could tell.
How Bokuto’s hair matched his classic tuxedo and how proud he was of the sky blue bowtie. How good Akaashi looked with golden handkerchief right in front of his heart.
Even in small details, they accompanied each other. Accomplished each other.
Atsumu wondered if he ever could feel that too.
He wondered about it when he cheered for his good friend on his wedding day.
He wondered when Osamu showed him hickeys on the abs back in the high school.
He wondered when he was a kid without a goal. Without his volleyball.
Bur he never wondered about it when he was playing with passion.
And his passion was glowing ginger. It was quick, it was burning hot — it was the fire that was burning in his chest and dashing in front of his sight but out of touch.
It was the fire that has disappeared in blink of an eye. Left with an awful feeling of scorched field where it was burning — it was not a long burn, but it sure was a mesmerizing one, as much as a wildfire can be.
Dangerous.
Destroying.
Breathtaking.
He has never searched for that fire ever again. Strangely, it felt wrong. To be attracted to it. To approach it before it comes to him and burns him to ashes.
He has never felt like that anymore. Not before, not after him.
Atsumu watched him, though. And watched closely, like one can watch a seed grow, but for him it felt like watching a small campfire burst into wildfire. Once again, but this time from afar.
He never texted him. He never asked him anything.
He had promised him.
Promised that one day he’s gonna set himself on this particular fire and burn in his flames. Though it has probably sounded different to anyone else, if he asked. But Atsumu never spent time for useless things like that.
Instead, he trained hard to get better than he was the day before. And tomorrow he worked even harder.
Workouts helped to distract himself from thoughts and avert his eyes from a glistening image - sadly, on screen - that has almost imprinted on the back of his eyelids. Trainings helped him climb the heights he wished for in his teens.
But what is the point climbing the highest mountain, if it’s pitch dark?
It felt like he was out of breath at this point.
And just like that, he heard it. The sound, that shred the darkness. First flicker in front of him.
A familiar giggle in the hallway.
He hasn’t heard it in years, though he watched and listened for dozens, if not hundreds of interviews and commercials. But he only heard it once in his life before.
It was enough for him to turn his head and meet it. His passion. His fire.
His future spiker.
His…
— Shouyou! Hinata Shouyou.
His future goal.