Archive of Our Own ^beta

I am breathing but seems like my heart is broken

-28 by Agust D ft. NiiHWA 

Oct 5th, 2018

When he first suggested they throw a party for their birthday, Atsumu can admit his plan had always been for Osamu to do most of the work. He has never been good at playing host, much less at setting time aside to consider details like food, drinks and guests.

“I’ll just send a massive text and woohoo to whoever shows up. We’re gonna eat and drink either way,” had been his exact words and unofficial plan before Osamu sighed deeply and made Atsumu promise to not get in the way of the actual planning. 

“You can bring the cake,” His brother then conceded when Atsumu started to feel left out after not hearing any updates on the party within a week.

It’s a dismissive task. Atsumu complains about it to his entire team, none of whom side with him since he is apparently making his poor brother do all the work. He doesn’t waste his time trying to convince them he only intended for Osamu to take sixty percent of the work, not ninety. 

Instead, he orders a cake from some expensive and viral place Tomas found online and a few hours before the party, when he goes to pick it up, he takes a picture and posts it on Instagram with the caption; I hate chocolate frosting but not everyone is born perfect so, happy birthday scrub. 

It gets a lot of likes in just a few minutes and Atsumu lingers on his phone long enough to see a comment highlighting his point. ’He bought a chocolate cake for his brother even though he doesn’t like chocolate.’ Not quite right but he likes it anyway, knowing well how his fans eat up anything alluding him to having a softer, sensible, personality. 

He finds it funny how no guest at the party would ever fall for that. Not that there is anything wrong with being sensible. He has his moments, but most of the time he is just the selfish one—or the mean one; too intense; too intimidating; too much— a big fat jerk. 

He doesn’t mind. 

He is twenty-three now and he thinks he is old enough to say that with confidence because he feels that way and not to hide some deep-rooted insecurity. He has had years now to navigate his emotions, to dissect his upbringing and experiences that crafted the person he is. He is good, strong, happy.

And yet one look at Suna and Atsumu is eighteen again, squatting down in a corner of the school, hugging his body tightly to try and keep the broken pieces of his heart together. 

He always needs a few seconds to even out his breathing every time he sees him. Seconds to take in his appearance while remembering what he has tried so hard to forget. Seconds to collect his thoughts before brick by brick he builds up the wall that keeps the past from tainting more than it has already destroyed.

Atsumu diverts his gaze before they can make eye contact. 

“You changed your hair.”

But Suna eventually finds him, when Atsumu least expects him and with no way around an interaction. 

“Not really,” Atsumu responds while trying to keep his face void of the discomfort he feels. He focuses instead on gathering the paper towels he promised Kita to bring out since Osamu is too tipsy to make his way around the storage room of his restaurant. 

“It’s nice. It suits you.”

Atsumu tucks a roll of paper towels under one arm and holds another one in his hand as he goes to leave the room. He meets Suna’s eyes, stopping by the door he is blocking. “Where you lookin’ for something?”

“Booze.”

“They took it all out to the front. It’s under the counter, by the register,” Atsumu drops his gaze as he steps to the side and pushes past him, their shoulders brushing with more force than he expected to feel.

“Would it kill you to look at me?” 

Atsumu stops, his jaw clenching automatically to the tone Suna uses. He looks over his shoulder, argumentative words on the tip of his tongue but he swallows them at the sight of Suna’s face inches away from his. “What do ya want?”

“You don’t want to know the answer to that.”

“Well fuck,” Atsumu snorts, his hold on the paper towel tightening in response to how ridiculous this feel. “Leave me alone, yeah?” He turns around but Suna’s hand grabs his shoulder before he is out of reach. Atsumu tries to jerk away but Suna is quicker to pull him back. 

With a snarl, Atsumu turns to face him. “Seriously, what is it?” He goes to ask but the last words get lost as Suna presses his lips right by the corner of his mouth.

Atsumu stills, muscles tensing even though Suna’s touch is soft as he pulls him closer by the neck. Suna's lips ghost over the side of his face for a moment and then he is pressing his lips into Atsumu's cheek, kissing it.

“Happy birthday,” Suna says and Atsumu feels the gentleness of this moment squeeze his heart. He almost closes his eyes to enjoy it.

Suna leans back to catch Atsumu’s eyes. There is a storm brewing in his gaze— clouds of emotions intensifying the feeling of this moment while the rest of Suna’s face remains calm. 

He hates that because there is nothing calm surging through him. Instead, Atsumu's hands are almost shaking as he tries to push away everything he feels in favour of concealing his emotions from Suna's perceptive eye. The last thing he needs is to let Suna visibly unravel him. 

With Suna's lips still pressed against his cheek Atsumu inhales, the fresh air in his lungs giving him some courage—he thinks he might have been able to get a ‘thank you’ out had Suna not kissed him right after. On the lips this time—hands making their way up his neck, caressing his face—leaving no room for him to get used to how suffocating his hold feels. 

It’s slow and short but Atsumu is not breathing by the time Suna pulls back to stare at him, the clouds now gone, replaced by a heated look. The calm is also gone and instead several emotions are now splattered on his face. Atsumu can’t read any of them. 

But Suna must pick on something as he finds the courage to lean forward to kiss him again. 

This time Atsumu gasps upon contact. Suna’s mouth is pressed right over his top lip where he lingers for a few seconds before his lips part and start moving to pry Atsumu’s mouth open. Atsumu can’t process a proper thought, but his body reacts before he can even notice. He has a hand on Suna’s shoulder while the other (still holding a paper towel) is pressed against his chest— whether it’s to pull him closer or push him away, Atsumu doesn’t know. 

“Fuck,” Suna breathes out when they break apart. Atsumu thinks he might have echoed that word but the pounding of his heart and the lack of oxygen in his lungs has him feeling too lightheaded to tell. 

“Atsumu,” A cold wave runs through his body and Atsumu’s eyes fly open, unaware of when he even closed them, to find Suna watching him, his mouth ajar as he goes to speak. “I wanted to—“

Atsumu uses the hand on his chest to push Suna back. He uses enough force that Suna staggers, eyes widening in what looks more like panic than surprise. Atsumu doesn’t care. He shoots him a glare while biting back his anger as he quickly leaves.

He rejoins the party, handing over the paper towels to Kita and ignoring the curious look his former captain gives him as he finds his way to Bokuto, with whom Atsumu spends the rest of the party.

He wishes he could say he doesn’t see Suna again for the rest of the night (he technically doesn’t) but it’s long after the party is over and in the comfort of his childhood bedroom that Atsumu finds Suna waiting for him, eyes seemingly lucid though the smell of alcohol tells him otherwise.

He has a lot to say to him. He has a lot to yell and complain about; more words than he can probably think to list at the moment but Atsumu knows they are there. Deep within him and crawling up his throat, Atsumu has paragraphs of things he wishes to speak to Suna. He even has cries he wants to vent out and questions he wants to tentatively whisper. 

But his mouth is dry when he opens it and like it seems to happen every time Atsumu wants to confront Suna about feelings, Atsumu is speechless. In turn, Suna takes advantage of his silence and brings their lips together.

Atsumu doesn’t taste the alcohol but that’s probably because he has been drinking more than he should and his mouth is already used to the taste. 

Though if that were true, why can he still taste Suna?

“We—” shouldn’t, Atsumu tries to say but the words don’t make it out. 

And just like that, Atsumu is making a worse mistake than he did at eighteen. 

-o-

Atsumu wakes up alone. 

Then for just a few minutes, he takes in the silence while he works to make himself believe he is not completely wrecked by the cold pillow that rests by his side. Then when he fails to come up with any credible excuse for the tightness he feels in his chest, Atsumu begins to berate himself. 

He doesn’t waste time blaming the alcohol. Before Suna even showed up at the party, Atsumu had already done enough to prepare for a possible encounter with him. He had practiced what to say and how to act. Though ideally, Atsumu had hoped to avoid him altogether, never really considering that Suna would go as far as to find him somewhere private.

Atsumu had not anticipated what happened in the storage room. Nothing prepared him for Suna’s attempt at casual conversation— the comment about his hair (he hasn’t changed it, he just uses a different toner) the compliment (when is the last time Suna directed the word nice to him) the demand for eye contact (it does kill him sometimes) the odd answer to his question (did he get what he wanted?).

He was even less prepared for his touch; his kiss— the cheek one, that’s… he has never done that before. Is that why Atsumu didn’t bite his tongue out when Suna kissed him properly? He did think about it a lot. Even later, when Suna’s hands kept exploring his body and his mouth kept finding new areas to kiss, Atsumu could only focus on the warmth that spread through him with how softly Suna pressed his lips against his cheek and wished him a happy birthday.

That shouldn’t have been enough to trample all of his defences. To have him dismiss the voice of reason that’s made a permanent hole in his head drilling warnings against Suna. Where was his acclaimed brilliant mind when Suna was guiding Atsumu’s hands across his body? Where was all that genius and mental fortitude people envy him for when Suna kept taking and taking more of his soul with each kiss and Atsumu kept giving and giving with every eager response?

It’s been four months since Atsumu last shared a bed with someone. Seven months since he last shared a bed with someone knowing he would be leaving before the night ended. He has had a handful of one-night stands, enough that Atsumu knows what to expect from such an encounter. It’s always just about a momentary itch and an even shorter moment of ecstasy. There are never many thoughts or feelings about the person involved outside of relevant things such as kinks, health and discretion. In fact, after the first three times, Atsumu opted out of even remembering their names. 

And it had been so easy then. He was always smart with his arrangements, always a bit too technical when planning for those moments of pleasure Atsumu had sought as a distraction from the intensity of his career. He didn’t stop because it got hard or because he changed his mind about pursuing people for just one night of sex. He is pretty sure he still feels the same way about it. 

So why is this so hard?

Things have been cordial between them these past few years. They’ve kept up an appearance of a friendship for the public while privately they’ve learned to endure each other’s presence. Osamu’s friendship with Suna is the only thing that has kept Atsumu from fully giving up on him. Atsumu assumes that for that very same reason, Suna too still tries. 

Especially after that last conversation they had before graduating. Atsumu thinks that alone should stand as proof of the little they mean to each other now. He had been so clear, putting an end to everything and giving Suna a way out of having to come clean. 

“I mean, we were just fooling around,” he had told Suna, speaking clearly even though he feared he would choke on any of the words with how wrong they felt coming out of his mouth. “It was nothin' special. Honestly, it didn’t mean anything.”

His words hadn’t been entirely sincere but he knew they would be enough for Suna to drop whatever guilt he was feeling, if any, and they could both move on without guilt for having never talked. Atsumu had left before Suna could respond but his agreement was clear in the days to come as they drifted apart on an equal footing.

Suna is not a stranger by definition but he pretty much should be in accordance to what Atsumu considers a stranger when deciding on whether or not to sleep with them. Suna, like many others, should be nothing but a number in Atsumu’s grand body count.

Except that isn’t the case. His acclaimed brilliance, envied genius and mental fortitude make an appearance to hammer that truth straight to his heart by the end of the day.

Suna isn’t like any of the people Atsumu has slept with. Though he has tried to believe differently for the last four years, Suna is still very much someone Atsumu loves deeply.

-o-

Atsumu wouldn’t be able to pinpoint when exactly he fell in love. 

Even after all these years, when Atsumu looks back to his last year of high school, he can’t remember the exact day or moment he gave his feelings that title. He just remembers several confusing emotions coursing through his body while his mind is occupied elsewhere. 

It was like Atsumu was living two different lives. His heart and mind hardly lined up and were always at different sides, demanding different attention. While Atsumu was busy thinking about the future and the inevitable change that would come with pursuing a professional career, his heart was busy learning to beat to the sight of his best friend. 

So when it happened, when Atsumu began to acknowledge the changes between them—the way soft touches lingered for far too long between them; the way the looks they shared never quite seemed to end; the way the space keeping them apart kept getting smaller and smaller— Atsumu had nothing but his emotions to make sense of what he was getting lost in.

He didn’t give himself room to think things through. He didn’t bother to dissect information, to put the pieces together, or to draw the appropriate conclusions to keep himself from acting too brashly; from making a mistake. It spoils his stomach to think of it that way but it’s been years and Atsumu knows he needs to accept it. It had been a mistake, falling in love so blindly.

He can’t pinpoint when he fell in love but he knows exactly when he regretted it.

-o-

It’s Sakusa who put an end to his now-notorious slut phase.

He approached Atsumu and swept the rug under his feet with the most surprising proposition Atsumu never expected from a man like him. He remembers first thinking it was a prank. He looked around the locker room and shouted out various promises of eternal hell to whoever was recording or listening in on the conversation before Sakusa smacked him with a lint roller and told Atsumu to reconsider his next words properly or he would retract his offer.

Sakusa explained again and Atsumu listened, thought it over, and accepted. At the time, they weren’t exactly friends and aside from two other questions Sakusa later answered, that was the only factor Atsumu truly thought over.

“You’re attractive,” Sakusa scoffed when Atsumu asked ‘why me’ and then “not in this lifetime,” he grunted when Atsumu questioned if he had feelings for him. 

Friends with benefits, Bokuto called it when Atsumu later told him. Atsumu spent thirty minutes trying to convince him Sakusa wasn’t his friend only for Bokuto to then say, “But he will be, eventually.”

It took three months for that friendship to bloom and so the arrangement only lasted that long. Three good months of hardly kissing and constant fucking— he doesn’t know why it eased some of the tension in him, but even after the arrangement ends, Atsumu is oddly sedated. He ends his slut-phase and spends the next four months preparing for the season and forgetting he ever found comfort in sex.

And now Suna has happened.

“Have you ever fucked him?” Sakusa once asked, during the the first few weeks of their arrangement. They were at a league-sponsored event, hiding away from the crowd and counting down the moments until they could manage to sneak away. 

Atsumu remembers frowning, confused up until the moment that he follows Sakusa’s gaze to where Suna and Komori stand talking. He didn’t even have the energy to try and joke about sleeping with Sakusa’s cousin. “Why?” Atsumu had asked, hating how he suddenly felt so small.

“It’s the way he looks at you.”

They weren’t friends, so Atsumu never bothered answering him.

But it’s January now, almost a year since that day and Atsumu is standing next to Sakusa on the court waiting for the referees to fix the left pole of the net when he leans over and asks, “fucked him yet?” Atsumu’s shoulders tense as his eyes glance to the other side of the net. Suna has his back to him while on a huddle with his team and yet Atsumu looks away as if he were caught staring. 

“He is not even looking at me,” Atsumu says because Sakusa won't leave him alone if he tries to ignore him and he won’t believe him if he feigns ignorance.

Sakusa rolls his eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“No.”

It’s later when they are celebrating after Atsumu sets the ball for Sakusa to make the winning point of the first set that Sakusa leans over to jab his elbow at Atsumu’s side before gesturing to his left. 

Atsumu groans, fighting the urge to stab him back with his middle finger as he looks over and catches Suna staring.

“Liar,” Sakusa then whispers and Atsumu spends the rest of the match wondering what exactly gave him away. The way his tone pitches when he lies or whatever Sakusa seems to see whenever he catches Suna looking at him.

-o-

They fuck after that match.

Atsumu takes him to his apartment and Suna brags about his victory twice before Atsumu tries to shut him up with his mouth. 

He hates the way Suna touches him and how it reflects on how he is the victorious one tonight. He hates it even more that without any words they reach some sort of understanding that this is what they both want. 

That they are both okay with sex even if they are not okay. There is no friendship for this to be called a friends-with-benefits ordeal. There is no communication for this to even be called an arrangement. There is just desire and a silent acceptance of sexual frustration they never resolved when they were younger. 

It probably won’t last, Atsumu remembers thinking. Just a few months and he will get sick of me.

But then it’s late October and it’s already been six more times and now;

“You can’t be serious,” Atsumu deadpans as he goes to stand in front of his car, far enough from where Suna leans on the passenger-seat door. He glances around, searching for wandering eyes and wondering how Suna even got here. 

The season is about to start. There isn’t much pressure on their backs yet but even so, most players stay with their team, partaking in almost everything together to encourage morale and camaraderie. He has everything worth noting about the season memorized: stats, rumours, theories. He knows Raijin has a new setter and two injured players. He knows how tense their coach has been, and how strict he can get.

“We can both fit,” Suna drawls, drawing Atsumu’s eyes to where he gestures to the backseats.

“What are ya doin’ here?” Atsumu asks ignoring the suggestive undertone, “didn’t know Raijin were in any position to afford a scandal.”

“What if I said I missed you?” Suna replies, unfazed by the provocation. 

“I wouldn't believe ya.”

“What would make you believe me?” Suna counters and Atsumu is left staring at the unreliable emotions clouding his gaze. 

He feels it in every part of his body how his walls shatter with a few more quick-witted words and a handful of empty promises.

“I really missed you,” Suna then says when they are both inside the car, the passenger seat pushed up as far as it goes so that Suna has enough room to sit on Atsumu’s lap, “I’ve been thinking about you.”

There is barely enough room to find comfort in their position and yet all Atsumu can focus on is the way Suna’s lips move with each word he speaks. All the discomfort he feels comes from the tightness of his pants and the sweat on his back making his shirt stick to his skin.

“Why are ya here?” Atsumu asks again trying to ignore how sweet Suna’s words sound. How they pull the strings to his heart even though Atsumu tries desperately to see them for the hoax that they are. 

Suna leans in closer and Atsumu's eyes close in response. He feels Suna’s breath tickling his cheek. “Tsumu,” Suna whispers and Atsumu whimpers, his mouth parting just so Suna’s lips can kiss his upper lip. 

For the first time since this all started, Suna kisses his cheek again. Then every kiss they share is slow, calculated, and yet far too lewd to appear innocent. But it’s somehow gentle, the way Suna leads this dance, and painful.

It doesn’t mean anything, Atsumu repeats like a mantra inside his head. Don’t read into any of this. He urges himself all while moving to Suna's pace; kissing back when he is kissed; moaning out when Suna’s hands reach to aid his release; tightening his grip to keep Suna close— “Atsumu,” it doesn’t mean anything. “Atsumu,” this is nothing more than— “Atsu,”

A mistake, he tells himself and yet he doesn’t stop. It’s only going to hurt more, he ignores his warnings and lets Suna take however much he wants. 

Just for a few months, he still wants to believe.

But then it’s five more times that they end up together and suddenly it’s 2021 and now;

When he hears the knock on the door, Atsumu thinks of four or five people who could be looking for him late on a night right before their quarterfinal match. When he opens the door and sees Suna, Atsumu tries not to be too hard on himself for miscalculating Suna’s impudence.

He doesn’t let Atsumu close the door in his face. He pushes his way into the room and Atsumu instinctively turns and reaches for him, gripping his arm to stop him from going any further. That’s a mistake since Suna follows the pull of Atsumu’s grip only to stand closer to him. 

“It’s late,” Atsumu says as a warning or a statement or an excuse.

Suna stares at him and then slowly enough that Atsumu could stop him if he wanted to, he reaches over and closes the door behind him. He then leans forward, forcing Atsumu against the door as Suna’s body cages him there. 

Atsumu hears the lock of the door while he is still holding Suna’s forearm. The air around him thickens. “We have a match tomorrow,” Atsumu tries another excuse.

“I know,” Suna says and Atsumu focuses on his mouth because his gaze is too intense. “Don’t forget that when you’re fucking me.”

Atsumu’s breath hitches and Suna takes the chance to kiss him. 

He kisses him with the same hunger and desperation as all the times they do this at a place that isn’t Atsumu’s bedroom in Hyogo, his apartment in Osaka, or his car (that he now always parks deep in the parking lots away from any possible camera). 

Suna’s hands are sneaking under his shirt, nails scratching his back as he guides them towards the bed. They won’t fall on it until they are naked; until Suna has worked to remove all his clothing and pried Atsumu out of his own. By then Atsumu’s hands are already gripping too eagerly and his erection is far too telling of how he feels about Suna’s unprompted visit. 

Atsumu doesn’t think about the match. He doesn’t think about tomorrow, he doesn’t think about how many times it has already been since his birthday party, he doesn’t think about anything other than how easily Suna welcomes his touch. How he matches his pacing, how he eagerly welcomes every thrust and how every sound that leaves his mouth is in response to Atsumu. 

It doesn’t end quickly, Atsumu is far too aware of his every touch to let time pass by so carelessly, but it also doesn’t last for how long Atsumu wishes it would. They reach their climax together, Atsumu’s thrusts are a bit more calculated while Suna cries out different variations of his name. Atsumu, Tsumu, Tsum, Atsu— that one stings the most so he always tries to ignore it. 

Then while trying to catch their breaths, Atsumu lies over Suna; their groins still pressed together and Suna’s leg hitched up the side while one of Atsumu’s hands keeps a tight grip on his thigh. Suna will find his lips and Atsumu will let himself be kissed; each movement so slow and memorable it sours his mouth.

It’s far too intimate and far from the image of ‘no-strings-attached’ Atsumu always desperately hopes to hide behind. Who would he fool when he holds Suna like one would hold a loved one?

“Did you want to stay the night?” Atsumu asks at one point and Suna never answers.

Instead, he eventually gets up from the bed and begins gathering his clothes. Atsumu doesn’t watch him do it, he keeps his head on the pillow, his eyes unfocused. “Sunarin,” Atsumu calls when he hears Suna make a move to the door. 

Suna turns, his face giving nothing away. “Goodnight,” Suna offers and with the sound of the door closing, Atsumu closes his eyes tightly and promises himself, just a few more months.

But then it’s been a whole year and Atsumu has stopped keeping count but;

Atsumu can still feel the weight of Suna’s body from the night before. He can still taste the words he had spoken into his mouth with every kiss they shared.  

He is surrounded by teammates, friends, and players he admires ready to perform in front of hundreds on a stage designed for ‘monsters’ and all Atsumu can do is focus on the burned image in his head of Suna moving up and down his lap, chasing his pleasure with now practiced ease.

“Absolutely disgusting,” Sakusa comments because he likes tormenting Atsumu by proving time and time again that he has some weird ability to read minds or decipher looks.

He tells him as much and that has Bokuto butting on their conversation with a: “I think he is just pointing out the obvious.”

Atsumu doesn’t let himself be baited. “It’s only obvious to ya because I’ve toldja everythin’.”

Eventually, Oikawa joins their conversation and because he and Sakusa have finally figured out how to make a relationship work, Atsumu lets him throw in his opinion even though he ends up being entirely wrong and of no help.

“Neither of you hide it well,” is what he says. “I think even Iwa-chan knows something and he is the least observant person I know when it comes to these things.”

“So everyone knows we are fuckin’,” Atsumu grunts, trying to appear uncaring even though the very thought of that statement being true makes him want to dig a hole and bury himself in it. He glances around, taking in the sight of so many familiar faces before he thinks about his brother, probably setting up shop outside— his stomach churns, “Whatever, big deal, I don’t care.”

“Not that you two are sleeping together,” Oikawa contemplates, tone light. “But more like,“

“Everyone thinks you’re in love with him.” Sakusa deadpans, speaking over Oikawa with that blunt tone Atsumu hates. 

Atsumu reaches for the closest item he can find and tries to throw it at Sakusa but Bokuto manages to stop him. “Save that energy for the match!”

“We are in the same fuckin’ team,” Atsumu fumes while Sakusa stands hiding behind Oikawa looking smug, “how am I supposed to spike a ball to his face.”

“Serve a ball to the back of his head,” Oikawa says, using the same tone from earlier. It’s a small victory to see Sakusa pout in response since Atsumu has always thought he looked stupid when doing so.

“I think it’s cute,” Oikawa then says when Atsumu tries to make fun of it after Sakusa and Bokuto both leave to greet Ushijima. Atsumu makes a face to express his disgust. “You’re telling me you never thought he was cute? Even when you were sleeping together?”

“Don’t bring that up,” Atsumu groans, “It’s weird enough. Aren’t ya bothered by it?”

“We weren’t really anything back then,” Oikawa says with a shrug, “aside from a handful of dates we had only kissed once when he was still in high school. Nothing serious.”

“You kissed in high school?” Atsumu asks wondering if Oikawa can see how he is holding his breath waiting for an answer. 

“He kissed me at the airport,” Oikawa huffs, “can you believe that?”

He gets the full story later, after the match and alongside a handful of people who learn about Oikawa and Sakusa from a short kiss they share in the locker room. It sounds like it comes out of a movie. It’s far too romantic for Atsumu to truly believe Sakusa had been the one making the move. But he believes it once Sakusa starts ducking his head when people begin to coo and awe at every word detailing that moment between him and Oikawa. 

“I can’t believe you remember all that,” he hears Sakusa say at the end but his eyes tell Atsumu that Sakusa remembers just as well as Oikawa. They both probably have that moment engraved in their heads, even if it didn’t necessarily end with them getting together right there and then.

Atsumu does, after all, also have his first kiss carved into his being. He wonders though, if he only remembers because he cherishes that kiss or because he blames that moment for the broken heart he is still trying to patch together almost ten years later.

Atsumu remembers just how heavy the silence felt between them that afternoon, moments before. 

The air was thick with tension while time went by almost agonizingly slow. Perhaps it was because they stood too close to each other that he was far too aware of how uneven his breathing had been before Rin had the chance to steal any air from him. 

It was Rin, after all, who made the first move.

In one of the storage rooms, away from their teammates’ prying eyes, Rin had stared at his lips as he uttered the words; “Push me away.” 

Atsumu had felt his breath tickle his face. He swallowed, thinking Rin an idiot for assuming Atsumu would ever do something so stupid while the desire to kiss him quickly took over his body. Like a man possessed he reached for Rin, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him in. 

They kissed as if they knew how to do nothing else. Their lips moved in sync but even if they hadn’t, Atsumu doubted anything would have ever felt as right as that. 

A part of Atsumu expected more of a fight for who would lead the kiss but Rin was surprisingly compliant. He was almost someone completely different as he melted into the kiss. Rin’s hands found their way to him while Atsumu was too busy focusing on the way he moved his lips; on the tongue exploring the roof of his mouth; on the taste of Rin’s chapstick.

They only broke apart when they ran out of air and before they could sink back into each other, voices emerged from around the corner forcing them further apart. There was a moment when they both hesitated, unsure of what to do next. They communicate with a look—with a mere gesture— and as if they have had years of practice, they rejoin their team as if nothing happened.

It’s after practice when they meet again. After making the right excuses to the necessary people. Neither of them planned it; it just happened that way. Just hours after their first kiss they faced each other, finding no need for words as they came together with a kiss. And then another. And another. And then Atsumu was pressed against a wall, tasting every inch of Rin’s mouth with no desire to ever stop.

“Just a few months,” Oikawa responds to someone asking how long he and Sakusa have been dating. Those words bring Atsumu back to the present, allowing his mind to push away that cursed memory in favour of occupying all his thoughts with burdening questions of, how much longer?

-o-

They never ended up talking that night, after their first kiss and the many kisses that followed. Or every night that came after. They did, however, continue to find their way back into each other's arms. 

For nearly a month, it’s in empty classrooms, forgotten storage closets and deserted hallways where Atsumu gets addicted to the taste of Rin’s lips. Where he gets pulled in by needy hands that Atsumu can’t forget the feeling of long after they let him go. Where he is pushed against a wall time and time again to meet Rin in an eager display of attraction.

It’s his best friend, Atsumu would often find himself thinking in wonder. It’s Sunarin with his hands steady and firm and his lips all over him. It’s his heart beating faster and faster to the letters making up Rin’s name. It’s as if that entire time, Atsumu knew nothing but Rin. There wasn’t a day he wouldn’t wake yearning to taste his mouth, nor a night he wouldn’t spend lying awake remembering the feeling of his touch.

Atsumu took everything Rin offered because it all seemingly came from his heart. It all came with feelings Atsumu had tentatively titled as ‘love’—like his, he had been so sure, Rin’s feelings were like his. All of it. Everything he felt. It was the answer to his beating heart, his shortness of breath, and this incapability to speak out. 

It just never felt like words would give it justice. It felt like speaking would take some of the magic away. There wasn’t any need for words, not yet, not when Atsumu knew that he could trust Rin. So he kissed Rin like a starving man any chance he got and Rin responded in kind, never once giving Atsumu the allusion that it was something he didn’t want.  

Then came the winter break and Atsumu went home weighed down by the emotions he had kept to himself. He felt hollow the entire time. Like he was missing an important organ. Like there was a hole in his body and an emptiness he couldn’t fill with anything other than what—who he yearned for.

He thought about him a lot. He thought about them, about what it meant, about what they could become. He knew, somewhere deep inside, that thinking about it wouldn’t be enough. That at some point he would have to sit down and talk to Rin, no matter how much it seemed neither of them wanted or needed to.

There was a certain thrill in all the hiding; in how easy it was to keep their little secret. No one knew, no one even had an inkling because that’s how they wanted it. At first, at least, since Atsumu was selfish enough to want to keep something special hidden. It was his heart, his affection, his feelings— no one else had a right to them, no one other than Rin. 

But as he grew confident—as Rin kept mirroring the yearning and desire Atsumu felt through every glance, touch, and kiss; as Atsumu started wanting more— the secrets no longer felt necessary.

It felt wrong to hide something that’s engraved itself deeply inside Atsumu.

He has, after all, always welcomed attention. He has never held back from hiding his talent, his hard work, his ambitions— so why start now? Why hide his heart? If kissing Rin behind closed doors raised his heartbeat, what would happen if he kissed him out in the open? For everyone to witness? For everyone to see?

He imagined it would be like volleyball. That it would feel like it does when he shows the fruits of his labour. When he hits a serve or set that he has spent days and hours practicing late at night with no spectators. He wants to brag, more than ever, how much love he can pour into his relationship with Rin. He has never been someone to shy away from expressing himself. He has no shame for what he feels and for who he feels it for. 

It’s that conviction that encourages him to be the mature one, for a change. He gathers up the courage and on the first day back, before he kisses Rin and forgets all about his decision, Atsumu rushes out words that sound too uncertain and poorly practiced.

His heart hammers against his chest and Atsumu holds his breath, almost suffocating as he reads Rin’s surprise and then his uncharacteristic nervousness. “Yeah,” he agrees, his eyes softening before flickering to Atsumu’s lips, “we should talk.”

They don’t talk right then because they barely even have time to sneak in a kiss before they are forced apart by their own schedules. Classes feel endless. Interactions with anyone feel lifeless. Conversations feel meaningless. It’s surreal, how nothing seems to matter. Even their after-school practice feels like an obstacle.

The last obstacle, if anything. They haven’t actually talked out the details but it’s more than obvious. It’s always after practice that they find the most time to be alone. Atsumu doesn’t need to sneak Rin a note with a time or place, he knows he knows. They are best friends, he thinks proudly, it’s only natural that they can communicate without having to actually speak.

There is still a part of him that prays Rin won’t read too much into Atsumu being the first to leave the locker room that day. Or at the very least, he prays Rin doesn’t bring it up any time soon. He is nervous, it’s obvious, but he is also a bit too eager. It’s mortifying that Rin will know that going into the conversation but at least the minutes alone Atsumu wins by waiting for Rin makes up for it.

He can’t fuck this up. 

He can’t stutter or hesitate when confessing. Rin will surely never let him live it down and Atsumu can’t keep giving him ammunition for their future. It’s bad enough that Atsumu is going to bare his heart first. So he paces: muttering to himself the words he has already mentally rehearsed all day.

Years later he will think back to this day and hardly remember all of that.

He won’t recall the stretch of the day or how endless it felt. He won’t even ponder over the nerves that had his hands shaking and his face burning with embarrassment for the weight of his emotions. Years later all Atsumu will remember is how nothing went as he expected. From Osamu showing up with that note, to Atsumu leaving for ten minutes only to return to a conversation he still wishes he had never overheard. 

Atsumu will only remember the sharp sting of words he never expected to hear and he will remember his heart shattering like glass as those words opened his eyes to something he had been blind to the entire time.

-o-

Atsumu thinks he might have kept a mental count but he never allows himself to think of the number, afraid of how high or low it might feel when measuring how deeply he has fucked up. But he knows how long it has been. 

He was turning twenty-three when it started and now:

“Twenty-eight!” Ginjima exclaims and Atsumu jumps surprised because he hadn’t even noticed him. His eyes had naturally gone to Suna the moment he stepped foot in his brother’s restaurant. “That’s a whole decade since we graduated!”

Atsumu can’t stop his smile from wavering as he thinks of how that means it's been a decade since his first kiss with Suna. He stares at the people around him but he doesn’t see how the years have passed; how things have changed. 

All he sees is Suna.

He sees the same face he fell in love with all those years ago. He sees the eyes that stared him down the first time they kissed— the same eyes he saw lose their warmth months later when Atsumu heard what Suna had to say about him. He sees the man who kissed him again five years after that— five years ago this very day.

Suna— the man who broke into his parents’ house and waited for Atsumu in his bedroom before he kissed his way into his bed. The man who he has fucked like fifty times (it’s an estimate) ever since he turned twenty-three because Atsumu is pathetic and apparently a masochist or just an idiotic fool that has some sort of sex addiction.

All he sees is Suna— someone who still chases him, still wants him (at least physically) even when he can barely even—

Atsumu turns to leave as he fights the urge to vomit.

-o-

Atsumu stands alone and in silence for the minutes it takes Suna to find him. He wasn’t expecting him, but he was not surprised to see him. He left the party for a moment of solitude; for a chance to gather his thoughts and to calm his racing heart (to keep himself from throwing up). He snuck out the door and turned around enough corners to hide away in the darkest corner of his brother’s restaurant and yet Suna still found him.

Atsumu doesn’t even have the time to process how that makes him feel before Suna is in front of him, cupping his face to draw their lips together. 

“Rin,” Atsumu pants into Suna’s mouth, like a warning or perhaps a protest, but Suna moans in response and Atsumu can feel the fight leave his body as the sound travels through him. Predictably, he sinks into the kiss, his body shifting to welcome Suna. 

Every limb finds its fit with practiced ease, every gap between them is covered by the easy flow of their familiar dance.

The next time Atsumu pants Suna’s name, he does so in response to the hand sliding to the back of his head; the fingers buried in his hair; the tongue teasing the corners of his mouth and the thumb tracing his jaw as Suna’s other hand settles on his neck. 

He sinks deeper into the kiss, dazed and hungry while actively ignoring the way his heart twists with every reminder of how Suna eagerly shows an apparent want for him. 

Atsumu keeps his hands on Suna’s back, carefully holding him but never too tightly, never pulling him closer. It only hurts more when Suna eventually pulls away since Atsumu has always failed to be the one who leaves. He will try, eventually, with words. It’s the only thing he has. Soulless words that lack intent or meaning. 

“Everyone’s here,” Atsumu reminds him though he doubts Suna forgot. “We shouldn’t,” he argues in between kisses before Suna finally moves back, his lips lingering as Atsumu’s words are followed by silence. 

He waits a second or two before he opens his eyes to Suna’s undeterred gaze. “You’re such a shit,” he breathes out, drinking in the sight of Suna’s flushed cheeks and his swollen lips. 

“Fuck,” he curses at himself before his mouth goes straight to Suna’s neck where Atsumu bites and sucks as Suna tilts his head accordingly.

“Atsumu,” Suna gasps, the hand on Atsumu’s neck moving down to his hip where Suna digs his fingers in response to the assault on his neck. “Atsumu,” he says again with more of a whine. Atsumu traces kisses up the side of his neck and then he sucks on the skin right below his ear before his lips are back on Suna’s mouth, drowning out the sound of his name.

Suna welcomes the way Atsumu takes the lead and this is usually when Atsumu falters every time. When the control he had and the restraint he felt is lost to him as desire takes over his senses. This is when he forgets about the many reservations he has. 

When he forgets he made promises to himself about how he should act around Suna. 

When any previous conviction on their relationship seems to be built on shallow and meaningless reasons. 

How can Atsumu convince himself Suna doesn’t want him when he fits so easily in his arms? How can he when Suna looks so utterly wrecked when they finally move apart long enough to catch their breaths?

“We should head back,” Atsumu doesn’t know where he finds those words or how he manages to say them without stuttering. He has no desire to go back now that Suna has broken the little resistance he thought he had left. 

Suna kisses him one more time, slow but deep. It’s gentle. It’s loaded with something Atsumu doesn’t have the heart to acknowledge. “Fuck,” he breathes, pushing Suna against the wall as he presses their foreheads together. He tries to ignore how pinning Suna there is just as condemning as pulling him closer.

“Ah,” Suna sighs with half-lidded eyes, “there you are.” His lips quirk upward into something smug and Atsumu steps back and drops his hands as if burned by his words.

He swallows down something bitter. “You can’t keep doing this to me.” Suna’s gaze feels cold as they share a long look. “We can’t keep doing this.” Atsumu corrects.

He doesn’t know if Suna considers his words or if he even hears them. Atsumu can’t read the expression he wears, he can’t make out the emotions playing out in his features. He thought he could, before—ten years ago— but it’s obvious just how little he understands Suna.

The words hang over them. Suna doesn’t respond. “Sunarin, I mean it,” Atsumu then tries, the nickname spilling from his lips before he can stop it. “We shouldn’t have— we can’t,” Atsumu heaves, “I won’t keep doing this.”

Meaningless words.

“Is that a promise?” Suna asks as he moves closer to gently cup his face again. Softer, Suna whispers; “Don’t you get tired of breaking my heart?” 

He doesn’t wait for Atsumu to respond before he moves so that he can place his lips right by his ear. “Happy birthday,” he whispers and then he kisses his cheek before he leaves.

-o-

It was the first day back from the winter break when Rin broke his heart. On the day Atsumu had planned so differently weeks ahead; on a day he waited for Rin outside the gym while he practiced his confession.

It’s on his fifth run of the entire speech when Osamu appears. Atsumu would have missed him entirely if it weren’t for how his brother announced his presence by popping out from nowhere and smacking Atsumu on the back of his head.

“Did practice end early or somethin’?”

Atsumu jumps with one hand over his chest and the other covering his head. His heart pounds loudly as he prays Osamu didn’t witness anything incriminating. “What are ya doin’ here? I thought ya were sick. Why the hell are ya skippin’ practice?” 

His brother shrugs, eyeing Atsumu suspiciously. They glare at each other until Osamu sighs disapprovingly and proceeds to extend his hand, offering a piece of paper that Atsumu takes and quickly unfolds to read with worry.

“Yer jokin’,” he deadpans, skimming through the writing twice before he stares at his brother with a look he hopes promises eternal hell. 

“I tried to say no but she gave me a box of chocolates and then bribed me with two bentos,” He is not joking. Atsumu groans and goes to rip the paper but his brother stops him. “I promised you’d meet her.”

“Why?” Atsumu questions exasperated.

“Are ya deaf? I told ya I was bribed.”

“Then you go!”

“It’s not my ugly mug she likes,” Osamu remarks, something odd crossing his features.

Atsumu tries to read his expression but fails. “Did ya stay back just to give me this?” He questions trying to ignore how if his heart wasn’t overworking in anticipation of his conversation with Rin, he would probably be giving his brother more shit for slacking off.

Osamu shrugs as he sticks his hands in his pockets and looks away, making it obvious he won’t be giving a real answer. His brother can be a truly annoying asshole when he wants to be.

“I’m not goin’.”

Osamu dares to shake his head disapprovingly. “Don’t be a jerk,” he scolds, “it won’t kill you to hear her out. It might do ya good, hearin’ some compliments or someone expressin’ interest in ya.”

Atsumu does not have time for this. He has never humoured any show of interest from anyone in this school. He is even known for refusing to look at letters or notes left on his desk or locker; he always throws them out without even caring to learn who is behind them. If they can’t even approach him, why should he consider them? This girl clearly knew that if she went through the trouble of bribing Osamu.

Though his brother is a real piece of shit for letting himself get bribed. More so for expecting Atsumu to actually go.

“Were you born to ruin my life?”

“Christ,” Osamu huffs, “didja fumble all yer serves today? What’s up your ass?” Atsumu opens his mouth without thinking, Rin’s name at the tip of his tongue when Osamu cuts him off by slapping his shoulder. “Just go,” he urges, now close to pleading.

If it wasn’t for that change in his brother’s tone and for the embarrassment Atsumu felt at almost having insinuated something sexual about his relationship with Rin, Atsumu would have utterly refused. 

He glances at the door of the gym and then back at his brother. “Fine. I’ll be back, just—” Tell Rin to wait for me, Atsumu doesn't say because knowing his brother he will say the opposite. Rin knows they have to talk; they agreed. He will probably wait for Atsumu anyway. “You fuckin owe me,” he hisses instead, slapping Osamu’s shoulder with the same force he used moments earlier.

“Try bein’ a decent human!” Osamu yells after him and Atsumu almost makes up his mind to be the complete opposite by rejecting the girl before she even gets a word in but— 

Well, it’s not her fault his brother’s a dick. He is also not about to diminish someone’s feelings when he is minutes away from opening up his own heart to Rin. Not that he thinks Rin will reject him.

The whole ordeal doesn’t take more than a few minutes. Atsumu goes to the classroom the girl wrote down on the piece of paper. He finds her nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other while she holds a little gift bag in her hands. She brightens when she spots Atsumu, her mouth falling open in surprise before her cheeks redden and she diverts her gaze.

He doesn’t pay much attention to what she says. He only picks up on the few compliments she throws at him and does his best to offer a smile when she starts to ramble through the gist of her confession. It’s… something alright. He is flattered but it’s not like her feelings matter all that much to him. He doesn’t even know her name, though the note now shoved in his pocket had been signed by her. 

He ends up feeling bad, not for not returning her feelings but for making her think there was a chance Atsumu could ever like her. Her or any other female in this world. He won’t have this problem once he starts dating Rin, a part of him thinks as the girl gathers the courage to step closer to Atsumu. He won’t need to worry about catching anyone’s eyes when he knows Rin will be there, scaring them all away with his possessive demure.

“Sorry,” Atsumu says when it’s his turn to speak. He tries to sound kind but even to his ears the words seem cold. “Yer pretty,” he throws because he doesn’t know how he can make this not hurt, “and nice but I don’t…”

The girl is completely red. “Pretty?” She questions and then seems to catch the rest of his words and what they are leading to. “Oh,” she says as tears gather in her eyes. Atsumu hesitates, discomfort settling in his gut as he stands unsure of whether or not he should continue. It would be cruel since his answer is more than obvious.

“Uh…” he starts but the girl shakes her head, silencing him. 

It takes her a few seconds to gather herself as she straightens her back and rubs her eyes until she can meet Atsumu's eyes without bursting into tears. “I understand.”

Atsumu breathes a sigh of relief.

Her words didn’t inspire much confidence but he is not one to stand there and question someone’s honesty. Certainly not when the truth would only keep him stuck here possibly comforting someone he cares little about when the owner of his fucking heart is waiting for him. He bows, no other word necessary before he makes his leave.

As soon as Atsumu is out of sight he runs back to where he hopes Rin is now waiting for him. In just seconds Atsumu makes his way back only to spot his brother before he sees Rin standing next to him. Atsumu is going to use this day as an example next time anyone questions him about his belief in Osamu’s purpose in life. Aka; ruining his life. 

They seem to be talking about something but Atsumu hardly thinks it’s important. He is ready to tell his brother to fuck off— he’d go as far as to blame him for the girl he left crying in a classroom to guilt Osamu into leaving so he can comfort her or something but he hardly needs to start a fight now when there will be enough time to do so after Atsumu gets a boyfriend.

He gets closer but neither of them notices him. Instead, Atsumu notices the tension on Rin’s shoulders and the ugly twist to Samu’s lips. He opens his mouth to call out for them but then stops when he hears his name.

“Is there somethin’ going on between ya and Tsumu?”

“What do you mean?” Suna looks far more tired than he did when practice ended. He doesn’t even look to be paying Samu much attention.

“Are ya two datin’ or somethin’?”

Atsumu expects every reaction but the one Rin gives. It’s almost like a slap to the face to see him recoil; jaw tightening while something raw and dangerous crosses his eyes. “No, of course not, what—” he rasps, “what made you think that?”

His brother looks as confused as Atsumu feels. “It’s just you two have been… are ya sure?”

Atsumu opens his mouth, his instincts screaming at him to do something. He never intended to eavesdrop on them and he certainly doesn’t want the conversation to continue; not with how defensive Rin appears to be reacting. 

Rin’s laugh stops him short. The sound hits Atsumu with so much force he almost staggers back. “Be serious, Samu,” Rin sounds amused, almost sinister. “Why would I ever date your brother? I barely even tolerate him.”

Atsumu’s gut drops the moment he makes sense of those words. Words that feel like a knife to the heart. He presses a hand over his chest in an attempt to ease the pain but it does little to help.

He almost makes a sound but he holds it back. His mouth tastes betrayal and rejection while his eyes sting with shame. Then before he knows it the image of Rin’s disdain begins to blur and Atsumu snaps into action, all his energy going to his feet as he moves to avoid being noticed.

He hears his brother respond and then a chuckle from either him or Rin, Atsumu can’t tell. It doesn’t matter anyway, not when there are already words dragging his body down as if the weight of the world were on him. 

His eyes continue to burn as he walks further away. He is going to cry, he is aware, and perhaps that’s the reason he doesn’t. He finds an ounce of strength to hold back the tears. It feels ridiculous, but for a moment all he can do is focus on that. Crying will only add to his humiliation. It will only add to the burden of having been mistaken so horribly. 

For once, Atsumu’s arrogance had had no substance.

I barely even tolerate him. 

He’s heard that before. That and every variation of the same sentiment Atsumu often provoked from others. Irritation, dislike, annoyance— he knows. He has always known how he’s perceived. It doesn’t take his brother or his coach or any concerned individual to approach him and advise him on change. It doesn’t take being the last picked on group projects or having a few or zero people to share a meal with during lunch.

Atsumu knows who he is.

He is meticulous. His priorities have always differed from others. His goals and his ambitions have shaped his character so that he could thrive in his sport; so that he could succeed. LHis time, his care, and his focus have always been set on higher sights. 

He knows who he is and he knows what that means. 

He is not easy to like, of course not, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be liked. It doesn’t mean he can’t be understood. He can form connections with people— it’s just always been a few. Just a handful of people who saw past Atsumu’s various defences and difficult qualities. A few he learned to trust. He made peace with that a long time ago and having a twin, supporting parents and reliable teammates have kept him feeling secure in that conviction. 

Rin was supposed to be one of those people. 

What does that even mean? Atsumu questions when he finally finds a dark enough corner in the school to hide in. If you can’t tolerate me then why be my friend?

The answer seems clear enough but Atsumu refuses to think it. Instead, he remembers the girl—the one who he hurt just minutes ago—and the way she held herself, the way she rubbed her eyes, the way she nodded with a smile even as her heart broke so openly. 

‘I understand,’ she had told him.

He hadn’t thought much about her words then, but now Atsumu ponders whether she meant them or not. Did she say them for her benefit? Did she say them to save Atsumu from feeling guilty for rejecting her? 

Atsumu wouldn’t be able to say those words.

He doesn’t understand. 

Just this morning Rin had held him before sharing a soft kiss that Atsumu thought carried a million promises. Just this morning Rin’s eyes had been watching him, studying him; reflecting his gaze. Atsumu had understood him then. Every kiss before that, every touch, every soft gasp or moan of his name— all of it had made sense.

Now… now Atsumu can’t put the pieces together. He can’t think back to every moment between them and see what he saw before. He can’t recall the honesty he felt. It doesn’t feel real. The inevitability he once felt about their relationship now feels like a dream he conjured from delusional ideas and misunderstood memories. 

Atsumu doesn’t know for how long he stays in his corner—pondering, reflecting and blaming himself for the air lacking in his lungs and the aching in his chest— but when he finally leaves and heads back to where they were, Osamu and Rin are nowhere in sight.

“That’s that then,” Atsumu says to himself, staring at the spot Rin had occupied as a tear finally makes it down his face.

-o-

This party might be the biggest one his brother (he stopped pretending getting the cake meant he played a part in the planning years ago) has thrown. It could be because they are now at his Tokyo branch and thus the biggest establishment he owns.

It’s extravagant and it makes Atsumu truly feel like he is twenty-eight.

He can’t quite accept so much time has passed every time he looks at Suna and sees the lack of evolvement in their relationship but as Atsumu gets lost in the party, he starts to acknowledge the signs of time in the other bonds he has formed and grown older with. 

His teammates, his friends— his brother who somehow fits into his clothes even though Atsumu is sure he has spent way more time building up his muscles than Osamu has to spare at a gym. It’s refreshing to see his face— seeing the similarities still prominent between them. Atsumu can smile at him and Osamu will always smile back as if he knows what Atsumu is even smiling about.

He wonders if Osamu can also tell what goes through his mind when Atsumu’s smile falters at the sight of Suna. He must. Especially with how often Atsumu is looking at him nowadays. He thinks he might actually die if Osamu ever brings it up.

He makes his rounds around the restaurant, surfing through the crowds so everyone can wish him a happy birthday. He stops occasionally to catch up with his friends from high school and then with former teammates but he always ends up next to Bokuto, dragged around by his antics. 

Atsumu loses sight of Suna but that doesn’t mean he stops thinking about him. Granted, most of the time Atsumu is just trying to convince himself he won’t end up with him by the end of the night. 

He meant what he said earlier, even if it would break his heart if Suna actually listened to him. If whatever sex-driven relationship they have ended, what will Atsumu be left with? 

He would lose Suna, Atsumu thinks sadly.

He would lose the man who has occupied his heart from the beginning— who has always shown vulnerability during their intimate moments; who has never actually fucked him because he probably thinks Atsumu is too entitled or selfish to be the one bending over; who he hasn’t had a proper conversation with since they were eighteen.

Suna who is no longer his best friend or even just his friend and yet Atsumu’s heart hurts thinking of him as a stranger. 

Why doesn’t Suna want him? Is he that horrible? That unbearable? Only worth a fuck? He knows Suna has to find something in him attractive but why isn’t it enough for more? 

If Atsumu asked, would Suna try?

Not likely, he has always concluded. He has made sure to always keep his head levelled so that he never doubts his convictions. There is no room for false hope. No point in wasting away yearning for a fantasy.

Atsumu doesn't know how much time has passed when he spots Sakusa and Suna talking by the entrance. They’ve talked before, obviously, but always on a volleyball court. They never share anything outside of volleyball so it’s weird seeing them together, with their faces so close to each other as they furiously take turns speaking to each other.

Atsumu stares flabbergasted as notices the shock painting itself on Suna’s face when he leans away from Sakusa’s furious glare. Atsumu then holds his breath watching Suna jerk away before he pushes past Sakusa and then pushes his way through several people to disappear to the back of the restaurant.

Enough eyes follow after him. Atsumu can see Aran and Kita sharing a look while Osamu seems to take a few tentative steps after him before Gin is there stopping him. 

Atsumu turns back to look at Sakusa and catches him looking back at Atsumu while Komori is now next to him, speaking into his ear in a hurry. 

Atsumu frowns and fails to notice when he has moved to chase after Suna until he is pushing the doors that lead to the kitchen open. After a quick glance around the area Atsumu rushes further back, past a few storage rooms before he finds Suna pacing back and forward in the same room they had been making out in. 

“You’re sleeping with Sakusa?”

He doesn’t hear the question at first. He is too busy taking in the mess of Suna’s hair and the scowl making his jawline stand out while his eyes are clearer than Atsumu has ever seen. 

“What?“ he then chokes out when Suna’s words finally register. “Where is that even coming from?” 

Suna’s eyes harden. “You are.”

There is far too much blame and disappointment coated in his words. Atsumu feels the way those emotions wash over him before he opens his mouth, snarkily throwing a remark. “The fuck would it matter? We are not—” he can’t finish the sentence, the reality of their situation hurting more right now than it usually does.

“Of course,” Suna scoffs and Atsumu recoils since it doesn’t sound like he is agreeing with him. “Typical,” he is mocking him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Suna shakes his head as he mutters something to himself before he runs his hands down his face in clear frustration. “This, everything. It’s never enough. It never means anything to you. I’m never—”  he stops short, an incredulous sound leaving his mouth as he takes a step back. “You honestly never give a fuck, do you? This is all just some sort of sick game for you.”

Atsumu can’t understand. 

He hears every syllable but he can't understand what Suna is confronting him about. Not at first when his mind has barely had time to acknowledge the way Suna is behaving as if hurt. Not only that, he keeps looking at Atsumu with something so torn, Atsumu can only wonder if there is something he missed. 

Why does it suddenly feel like the man in front of him is more of a stranger than moments before?

It’s the anger in between Suna’s eyebrows and the frustration curling in his lips that solves the puzzle for Atsumu. He feels a sharp sting in his chest the longer he watches Suna hold back more words, the longer Suna stands there accusing Atsumu with his gaze. 

Atsumu puts the words together, one by one, recognizing the tone Suna used— he believes them. He means them.

“What?” The question is out before he can think to stop it. Just one word and yet Atsumu managed to sound so vulnerable. “What do you mean never? Are you—“ he cuts himself off, his throat going dry as a picture starts to paint itself clearly in his mind.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Suna snaps. “You haven’t changed at all, have you? What are you even after when you fuck around with people? Is it validation? The attention?” Every word feels like a slap Atsumu has no defence against. “Or do you just like playing with people’s emotions? Is it fun? This has always just been a game to you and me—“ Suna snorts, “I’m just another name in the list of idiots you like to screw around with.”

Suna’s words fill the entire room.

“The fuck do ya mean—”

“I have to hand it to you, Tsumu.” Suna interrupts, his words now carrying a sinister pitch, “You’re real fucking good at this,” He snarls, “always the fucking prodigy.”

Atsumu moves faster than his mind can keep up. He grabs Suna’s shirt by the front and pulls at it with poorly restrained strength. Both his hands curl into a fist as his blood burns with rage. 

“Fuck you,” he spits and Suna laughs in response, his body moving along to Atsumu’s rough handling. He doesn’t attempt to break Atsumu’s hold. Instead, Atsumu almost recoils at how broken Suna looks waiting for Atsumu to hit him. 

Atsumu breathes in and out two times to calm himself and then he lets Suna go, taking a step back to put some distance between him and this man he doesn’t know. 

“Don’t think it will be as fun for you now that we’ve laid this out in the open,” Suna drawls, his lips curled with animosity “This is when you fuck off, no? There is no room for feelings in your little games.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Atsumu seethes, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to find the right words to rebuke whatever narrative Suna seems to have accepted. He can barely make sense of it all, of his accusations and his insults.

Does Suna really think so little of him? 

“Where do you get off saying this shit to me?” He is being clawed at—stabbed and mauled with every word Suna directs at him. Atsumu feels like an open target that is being hit from every side with baseless accusations. 

“You out of all people— that’s too fucking hypocritical, don’t ya think?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean!?”

“You think I’ve been playin’ some stupid game? That I slept with you for validation?” Atsumu shouts incredulously. “Just another name in a list of idiots I like to screw around with?” What else has he said? What else does he believe? A list of— how can he think that when no one’s twisted every vein that leads to his heart the way Suna does with his mere existence?

“Yer the one who cornered me!” Atsumu shouts, feeling the burn of those words down his throat, “Everything that’s happened between us— everything we’ve ever had— it’s always been because of you.”

“You can’t—“

“It’s always been you!” Atsumu adds before Suna can interrupt. “You were the one that initiated everythin’! You always came to me. You always made the first move, so—“ How can you accuse me of using you? Atsumu doesn’t get to add because he chokes on his words with how horrible they make him feel just thinking about them. 

“So that made it okay, did it?” Suna says after a moment. “I made it so easy for you.”

“You think any of this has been easy?” He hears the way the words almost come out as a desperate cry. How his anger slowly starts to fade, making room for all that pain that comes from the shattered pieces of his heart. He always knew it was poorly patched, but he never expected that Suna would be the one to tear the seams.

“Yeah no, I’m sure you’ve had your struggles finding the energy to fuck me after bending over for ‘Omi-kun’.”

All this from someone who doesn’t want him. From someone who can’t even tolerate him.

He is drained in an instant. The confusion, the anger, the frustration, the pain—it’s all numbed in the face of a bigger heartbreak. Perhaps this is what it’s like when someone finally comes to terms with loss.

But Atsumu doesn’t want to mourn him without at least knowing why.

“And was it a struggle for you?” Atsumu asks, his head tilted down because he can’t bring himself to look at Suna. “How hard has it been? How much did you have to endure to tolerate me all this time?”

Suna doesn’t respond and Atsumu forces himself to look up. He sees the open confusion and doesn’t bother wondering why he can suddenly read that expression from his face as he instead feels some deep resentment making its way up his body. He thinks he might just hate him a little for staring at Atsumu as if he can’t quite understand what point he is trying to get across.  

“I’ve wondered for years why you made an effort in the first place. Why go through all that trouble? We were still young back then so maybe there wasn’t a real reason. You’ve always been an asshole so maybe— maybe it wasn’t that serious. We never did talk about it so maybe,” Atsumu inhales, “maybe it was all in my head.” 

Suna’s eyes are attentive and for once he is not showing signs of wanting to interrupt, of wanting to rebuke and then attack Atsumu with another accusation. He is listening, confused and apprehensive while his body straightens out, shoulders tensing and jaw locking audibly. 

“We were kids,” they were eighteen, “but then after… after years apart,” five years, “and even now,” a whole decade later, “we are not kids anymore.” 

I can’t find an excuse. I can’t keep telling myself there was ever a good reason.

“You really hate me don’t ya?” Atsumu asks. Don’t cry, he tells himself. “I don’t know what I did to ya, Sunarin,” he adds, “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

Suna looks at him, his eyes wide and his mouth agape, “You—“

“You were supposed to be my friend!” He doesn’t register the honesty behind those words until they are voiced. They resonate so deeply Atsumu can’t believe it took him so long to admit them. “I— I’ve always had friends but they’ve never been mine, not really. It was always Samu who people liked. He was the one who had no trouble with social interactions. The one who could get along with everyone while I was just there. The unwanted plus-one.”

“But you,” Atsumu heaves, his hands now shaking, “you were my friend.” Suna looks vulnerable and there is a part of Atsumu that feels silly for laying this all out on him now—years too late— but he doesn’t think he can keep it in. He doesn’t want to. Not if he expects to ever move on. 

“I’m—“ Sorry, doesn’t seem right. 

“I shouldn’t have—“ made any assumptions, doesn’t either. 

Atsumu swallows.

“I made a mistake,” He decides on. “I know I got ahead of myself and that it was all in my head. And I don’t doubt that I didn’t deserve some of it. But now?” Atsumu rasps, “still? After all these years?” He stares angrily at the floor, fighting the knots in his stomach before he finds the courage to look up, “you’re being cruel.”

Suna takes a step back. 

“So just tell me what I have to do?” Atsumu rushes, subconsciously taking a step forward. “What can I say? I can’t keep going on like this. I can’t—“ he gasps, a shiver running down his spine, “What did I do? What can I do?”

“You think I hate you?” Suna finally speaks. Atsumu bites his tongue to keep himself from whimpering out a ‘yes’. “You think I hate you?” Suna asks again, this time with clear disbelief. “After all this and you think I hate you?”

A second ticks by. “What does it mean then?” Atsumu asks, “What am I supposed to think when you will kiss me but never date me? When you can’t even tolerate me?”

Suna is silent but Atsumu can see his mind work. Piece by piece it comes together and his eyes eventually reflect a second of understanding before something somber overtakes his features. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times and then he steps forward— one step, two, three— and suddenly he is in front of Atsumu looking alarmed as he reaches to grab him.

Atsumu is not fast enough to evade him.

“After the winter break,” Suna says in a rush, a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder while the other one goes to his neck. He pushes Atsumu against the wall and Atsumu is too weak and too focused on the coldness of his touch to fight him. Even now, he thinks pathetically, I still want you, “After practice, you weren’t outside. I found Samu and—“

“I remember,” Atsumu cuts in and Suna shakes his head, the hand on his neck tightening its hold. Atsumu lets out a gasp as he tilts his head back a little.

“You were there? I thought,” he stops short and Atsumu waits and waits and waits for Suna to say something more but he seems lost in thought. This isn’t what Atsumu had expected. This sort of reaction. This sort of panic and despair.

“You don’t believe that,” Suna whispers so low that Atsumu almost misses it. “You,” the hand on his neck starts rubbing circles right under his jaw, “you don’t actually believe I meant that.”

Atsumu lifts a hand to put it over the hand Suna has on his neck. “Why say it then?” He asks and Suna reels back as if pushed. Atsumu grips his hand but Suna doesn’t let go. “Come on Rin,” Atsumu starts, Suna’s name smoothly leaving his mouth even after years of Atsumu restraining himself from using it, “it's not like I’ve never heard it before. I don’t blame you for feeling that way but why,“ he stops to swallow the lump in his throat, “why pretend? Why bother pretending to be my friend? Why pretend to ever want me? You even said we’d talk, that day. I know we weren’t datin’ and ya didn’t owe me anything but—”

“We were,” Suna finally drops his hand and Atsumu too lets him go. “We were dating.”

With just three words Atsumu feels like his heart is breaking all over again. 

“Since the moment we kissed,” Suna continues, “since the first day when I— when I asked you to push me away.”

“I didn’t.”

“You didn’t,” Suna confirms, “You didn’t push me away. You kissed me.” Suna looks completely broken. He stares at Atsumu’s lips like he wants to kiss him then. Like it’s taking him everything to hold back, like it’s hurting him. Suna’s eyes flicker upwards, the sudden yearning behind his stare tugging at his heart. “So why did you go see her?”

Atsumu doesn’t need a moment to know what Suna’s referencing. He knows right away and yet he can’t understand why that even matters. But Suna is starting to get riled up, he is starting to pace again before he is walking away; past the storage room and straight to the kitchen. Atsumu follows him.

“You’ve always been popular. Girls—even guys— they’ve always chased after you,” Suna says without having to look back to see if Atsumu followed after him. “They were always trying to get your attention, trying to confess and yet you never… “ he trails off, his hands once again running down his face before he rubs his eyes and then pushes his hair back in clear signs of agitation. “You never took any of it seriously. But that day, when we were supposed to talk… I never meant for it to go on for so long without us talking. Every time I gathered the courage to say something I’d see you and I just couldn’t.” 

Atsumu felt a similar way back then. But more than not finding the courage he just hadn’t thought it necessary. 

“But I wanted to talk to you.” Suna steps towards him, his hands once again flying to grab him. They hold his shoulder and Atsumu feels him shake. “But you weren’t there.” Suna straightens his back, looming over Atsumu while holding him. “Samu… he said you went to meet someone. That you ran to hear some girl’s confession. You had to—” 

Suna pauses, his breathing coming out uneven while Atsumu remembers the conversation with his brother. He remembers not saying anything about Suna; of thinking he had enough time to get it over with before Suna arrived or that Suna would just wait for him.  

“I knew who it was. Mai Atamaki, yeah?” Atsumu blinks surprised because that name does sound familiar. “She’s always liked you. She’d come to every game and cheer for you. She was always there, watching you, waiting for a chance,” something travels through Suna’s eyes before both his hands fly to Atsumu’s face. His thumbs rub under his eyes as he angles Atsumu’s head upwards. 

“You never noticed her.” He says as they breathe the same air, “You probably didn’t even know her name.”

“I didn’t,” Atsumu agrees, his face burning from Suna’s touch. 

Something in Suna’s expression breaks. “I don’t know what came over me. I don’t know why I thought you’d say yes to her. You didn’t, I know, it was obvious the next day,” he rambles and Atsumu can hardly catch every word once he notices the way Suna’s eyes are glistening. “But in that moment, with Osamu on my ear going on about how It’d do you good seeing a girl. It’d humble you or even soften something in you, dating a girl. I—I felt played. I didn’t— I was already ashamed for even thinking you could—“ Suna smiles brokenly, “I don’t know why I said that, Atsumu. You had to have known I’d never mean something like that.”

Atsumu feels cold all over. He stares at Suna incapable of saying anything because he doesn’t— he had, hadn’t he? He had considered the possibility of Suna’s words having no significance. He knows he had. They were young and Suna was always an asshole so surely Atsumu knew there was a chance Suna hadn’t meant them. 

“You were my best friend,” Suna pleads when Atsumu fails to respond. He is still holding Atsumu gently by the face while staring down at him with so much affection, “you had to have known. I’ve always been an idiot, I’ve always been careless with my words. I knew I wasn’t deserving of you and yet I still— I still wanted to believe you’d want me.”

Atsumu recoils, stepping back from Suna’s hold. “You left that day.” Atsumu finally gets a word in. His ears are ringing and the air around him is starting to feel too thick to inhale. “You didn’t wait for me and then you started ignoring me.”

That’s right, Atsumu thinks remembering the hell he lived.

(He barely got any sleep that night. He stayed awake for hours dissecting every interaction between him and Suna trying to understand when exactly he fucked up. When he began mistaking kindness and amicable conversation for more than what it was intended. When did he become so stupid? So naive?

Then every minute leading up to the moment Atsumu saw Suna at school the next day, all he could think about is how Suna never actually said anything that alluded to him having feelings for Atsumu. Not just that but— best friend, that’s what Atsumu had thought of him all this time and yet… had Suna ever even seen him as a friend?

The answer to that became obvious with how easily Suna diverted his gaze the moment they came face to face. 

He drilled himself enough excuses for why Suna hadn’t waited for him the night before. He convinced himself that maybe there had been a misunderstanding of sorts and that maybe— 

A fraction of hope had lingered inside him, he realized just as that hope was shattered to pieces.

I’m not even worth a conversation.

What had Suna been planning the night before? Why had he agreed to meet Atsumu? Had he… had he never intended to talk with him? 

Atsumu had spent the night blaming himself for the night before. He is the one that left Suna waiting for god knows how long— had he been waiting? It’s not like Suna knew Atsumu overheard his conversation. It’s not like he knew of how he broke his heart. Did he? But then that would mean Osamu—)

Atsumu didn’t have the stomach to finish that thought.

“You ignored me!” Atsumu repeats, dismissing the insecurities Suna just confessed so he can cling to what he knows. “You wouldn’t look at me. You wouldn’t talk to me.”

“You didn’t either!” Suna argues, raising his voice. “I was mad! I thought you were playing with me so I couldn’t— I needed space.”

Atsumu scoffs indignantly, “You needed time to make sure I wasn’t fooling around with someone else?”

Suna looks angry and Atsumu can’t tell if it’s at him or himself. “I was hurting,” he bites out with a hand clutching his shirt right by his chest. “And then when I did try, when I tried talking things out with you, you pushed me away! You kept pretending like nothing happened between us!”

“Because you never wanted there to be anything between us!” Atsumu rasps, “You told Samu you’d never date me, Rin. You told him you couldn’t even tolerate me!“

“Like you’ve never talked shit out of your ass!” Suna snaps as he moves forward but this time Atsumu doesn’t let him grab him. “I’ve always—I’ve always cared for you!” Suna heaves, “I never once pretended to like you! I’ve never needed to pretend because I’ve always liked you! I thought you knew! Everyone knew. Everyone could see it. You are going to tell me you didn’t? You honestly looked at me back then and you—“ Suna wraps his arms around his own body while shaking his head and Atsumu fights the urge to step forward and hug him. To finally take him into his arms and comfort him. 

He thinks he wants to do nothing else at the moment because everything Suna is saying, everything that he is admitting to and finally confessing— god, Atsumu had been so wrong. 

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Atsumu.” Suna chokes out, “You’ve always been someone I respect. Someone I admire. We were so alike. We shared so many things and I used to think…” he trails off and then shifts to the side to rub his eyes before facing Atsumu again. “I asked you to push me away and instead you kissed me. I thought you knew.”

Atsumu hates this. He hates the expectations coming from Suna’s words. He hates the vulnerability he is showing through his eyes. He hates that Suna is no longer trying to touch him while Atsumu now wants nothing more than the heat of his skin. 

“What else am I supposed to think when that’s all I’ve been hearing my entire life?” Atsumu questions, himself more than Suna. “What am I supposed to do when the words I’ve heard from everyone who has ever disliked me are thrown around between the two people I care about the most?”

“I didn’t need you to think anything!” Suna yells and Atsumu lets the raspiness of his voice twist his heart into knots. “You were supposed to know. You, out of anyone. You are the only one—” He inhales sharply, “you had to have known.” Suna says as if he is trying to convince himself. “You were supposed to know I loved you.”

Atsumu’s ears begin to ring louder than ever.

“You never said,” he whispers.

(But it was there on those days when they would be at the gym two hours before the team’s actual practice began. When while Osamu would use that time to focus on stretching and warming up, Atsumu would stand at the edge of the court and:

“I’m just grabbing the balls,” Rin would shout from the other side, “I’m not going to bother receiving them.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to get some practice in,” Atsumu throws back, his smile meant to provoke something out of Rin.

“That’s what actual practice is for,” Rin deadpans, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket as he yawns for the third time in a row. “Hurry up and serve. Maybe get the ball over the net this time.”

“Shaddup!” Atsumu yells, ignoring Osamu’s laughter that comes from the other side of the gym. He takes his four steps away from the line and then zeroes in on Rin. 

Rin meets his eyes with a familiar comfort that has Atsumu relaxing his shoulders. He is smiling at Atsumu regardless of his last words. There is trust, somewhere in there. He believes Atsumu can do it and that’s something Atsumu has never quite needed but he can’t exactly ignore the way energy surges through him now that he has it.

Atsumu gets the ball over the net and Rin’s lips stretch out to a bigger smile.

“Finally,” Osamu snarks from the side.

“Shaddup!” Atsumu yells at him, his eyes never leaving Rin.)

“No,” Suna admits before the silence can settle around them, “I guess I didn’t.”

(But it was there when Atsumu began to gather information on all of the opportunities he had waiting for him. When he would spend most of his classes listing down the pros and cons about going professional straight after high school or perhaps going to college or maybe just waiting to be scouted:

“Why are you so worried?” Rin asks with his head almost resting on Atsumu’s shoulder as he looks over his shoulder. “There is no way you are actually thinking about going to college.”

“Excuse me?” Atsumu overreacts and then proceeds to ramble about how he can do anything and volleyball isn’t his only strength, and he is actually really smart— 

And Rin never rebukes any of that. He keeps his lip tilted with something smug while he hears everything Atsumu has to say. His eyes even close and he hums along in response whenever Atsumu stares at him expectedly.

“We all know what you’re going to do,” Rin eventually says and Atsumu feels the way those words reinforce his confidence because there is no doubt in his tone, no teasing in his words. “Stop worrying for nothing.”

He does stop while silently wondering when he even started and how Rin noticed before him.)

He hadn’t in words but Atsumu had felt it.

(It was there when Atsumu is once again being the villain, the bad guy for pointing out how Gin has been:

“Half-assing your passes! And what’s with yer eyes? Are ya even sleeping properly? Why are ya so distracted? It better not be because of that dumb girl who keeps sticking her head inside the gym like an idiot.”

Osamu calls him an ass for wording it like that even though minutes ago he too had mentioned the bags under Gin’s eyes. 

Aran slaps a hand over his eyes and groans even though he has already talked to the girl five minutes ago for interrupting their practice.

Akagi hisses out his name, shooting him a glare while he stands next to Ginjima with a hand over his shoulder even though he has been visibly getting irritated every time Gin misses a pass.

“Atsumu,” Kita scolds and Atsumu already knows what he is going to say so he huffs and walks away, heading straight to their coach so he can get chastised before he is asked to run a few laps to ‘calm down’. 

He sees Rin talking to Gin while he is on his second lap. He sees the scowl on his face and the way his eyebrows are furrowed while Gin hangs his head and nods every once in a while. 

Then when Atsumu is done running his laps and getting ready for the practice match they have scheduled, Rin is by his side making a joke or two about the way he runs when Gin comes over and apologizes for slacking off before also telling Atsumu to chill the fuck out. 

Rin laughs loudly while Atsumu stares flabbergasted because Gin never swears.

“Sorry, sorry! Suna made me say it!”

“You’re being a jerk,” Rin says in defence.

Atsumu gives him an earful of insults that Rin returns in kind, the pleased smile on his face never fading.)

“You left,” Atsumu says again because suddenly it’s all Atsumu has.

It’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart with the realization of how he misread everything. How he let his insecurities blind him to what had been so fucking obvious.

(It was there when he felt like he was losing everything after Samu confessed to wanting to quit volleyball. His twin was giving up. He was going to leave him. They weren’t going to continue playing together and Atsumu was going to have to do everything alone but:

“I’ll still be around,” Rin says softly long after Atsumu is done yelling at his brother and promising he will have a better, happier life. “Probably on the other side of the net but whatever, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Like hell you will!” Atsumu reacted accordingly to the challenge.

“I’ll brag about it to Kita and keep a tally so that he will always know who is the better one.”

“Kita doesn’t care about you!” Atsumu snaps, “I’m the one who is going to make him proud!”

They go back and forward with threats and snarky comments until the heaviness in Atsumu's chest lightens.)

It was becoming so clear now. Suna stares at him looking completely drained—betrayed, even, and Atsumu can understand why. He can begin to realize just how wrong they had both been in trying to work out what the other was thinking and feeling the entire time.

(It was there when Suna kept trying and trying to talk to him even after weeks of the silence growing between them. 

“Atsumu, can we talk?” Rin asks, nervously standing by the door.

“About what?” Atsumu tries to be dismissive but Rin is there, gripping his shoulders. Atsumu remembers thinking he was doing it to get his point across. He was doing it to hurt Atsumu physically and emotionally.

“Seriously?” Rin growls and Atsumu  is too worried about keeping his emotions in check to notice the way Rin’s eyes are begging him for answers. “Are you really going to pretend like nothing happened?” He misses the shake of his hands and how the words left Rin looking as if he had been punched in the gut.

“I mean, we were just fooling around,” Atsumu says, and as his heart shatters into pieces he fails to notice the way Rin’s eyes widen. He hadn’t seen the regret in his stare. He hadn’t heard the noise he made as Atsumu spoke over him, throwing whatever he thought could put an end to everything quicker. “It was nothin’ special. Honestly, it didn’t mean anything.”

Atsumu walked away and he never thought twice about why Rin never followed after him. He never bothered to turn around to watch the way his best friend crumbled.)

Atsumu thinks his heart might be breaking all over again. “If I hadn’t left to see her,” Atsumu starts. 

Suna flinches. “It doesn’t matter.”

“If I had waited for you,” Atsumu tries. 

But Suna shakes his head defeatedly. “You didn’t.”

“Rin,” Atsumu says, tears filling his eyes. He tries again because he needs to know. “If I had —” He can’t even get the full words out. But he sees it anyway; how different things would have been. 

It would have been so easy. Atsumu should have confronted Suna the moment he heard him say those words. Regardless of how they hurt, Atsumu should have demanded honesty from his alleged best friend.

Atsumu feels stupid. Foolish. So pathetic.

“I’m not sleeping with Omi.” He finds himself clarifying because he doesn’t want there to be any more misunderstandings. He can’t stomach to think Suna might still believe that Atsumu had been sleeping with anyone else but him these past few years. “Before you and I ever hooked up we did have an… arrangement.”

“You don’t have to…” Suna waves his hand dismissively and Atsumu can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t care or because he doesn’t believe him. 

“I would never play with your feelings Rin,” Atsumu says, the word feelings tasting bitter and far heavier than Atsumu would admit. He wishes he could take it back almost immediately with the way Suna jolts. “I would never cheat.”

“I know,” Suna says, “I’m sorry for ever thinking you would.”

The apology doesn’t ease the pain in his chest. “Okay,” Atsumu says because he has nothing left to say.

They both go silent, the room now covered in tension that Atsumu doesn’t know how to break. Then, for just a moment, laughter rings out from where the party is still in full swing at his brother’s restaurant. He can hear Osamu’s voice shouting something back at Ginjima and then once again laughter seeps into the room; a mixture of all his friends and teammates. 

He almost forgot that they were all there. It’s still pretty early into the night. Atsumu has barely gotten to eat his brother's food and he has only managed to have two drinks before he caught sight of Suna running back here. He hasn’t even blown out his candles yet. Atsumu can see his cake from the glass doors of the refrigerator in his brother’s kitchen. 

The same cake he has been getting for five years now. The chocolate frosting one that he posts on his Instagram like some sort of tradition with variations of a similar caption. 

He wishes Osamu would appear. He wants to hug his brother and have a good cry about his stupid mistakes like he has done for most of his life. He is turning twenty-eight and yet Atsumu might as well just be an eight-year-old child— uncertain and afraid of what is left to come after having done something wrong.

But Osamu is not here. Osamu is just outside the door, enjoying his day like a proper adult living a life that he is happy about while Atsumu…

Atsumu can only really focus on one last thing. 

“You loved me,” he says, ending the silence with some control in his tone. He doesn’t sound unsure, or upset. “You loved me,” Suna is not looking at him but Atsumu knows he is listening. He knows he is holding his breath to his every word. “As in… you don’t anymore.”

Atsumu waits for Suna to look up from where he is drilling holes on the floor with his glare. The open surprise on his face is almost comical to catch.

“Right,” Atsumu adds as he takes in every detail of Suna’s expression, “Of course, no, I— how can you love someone you don’t even know?”

Suna’s eyebrows furrow and Atsumu can see his anger there. Then his jaw locks and Atsumu almost jumps forward excitedly at how Suna shows his disbelief. “Do you think I don’t know you?”

“Because it’s been, like, ten years,” Atsumu huffs, the taunt clear with how he dismisses Suna’s words. “We’ve kept in touch, sure, but…I mean, we are barely even friends.” It’s the widening of his eyes and the step forward Suna takes that tells Atsumu he was more surprised than hurt by his words. “It would be stupid to think that after all this time your feelings haven’t changed.”

“Fuck off,” Suna breathes out, softly at first and then he is taking another step towards Atsumu. “Fuck you.”

Atsumu’s heart jolts as he takes a step forward, his lips turned upwards to something cocky because he feels good, confident and fuelled by the colour returning to Suna’s face; by the twitching of his lips, by the way, he is now standing tall in front of Atsumu looking ready to fight him. 

“I know we’ve been…” Atsumu makes a gesture hoping it translates to what they’ve been up to these past few years, purposely avoiding Suna’s eyes while doing the crude motions. “But that doesn’t mean you love me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Suna looks like he wants to both cry and laugh, “read between the fucking lines.”

Suna Rintarou might just be the biggest idiot Atsumu knows and yet Atsumu is so utterly and undoubtedly in love with him. 

“I meant what I said earlier,” He says under Suna’s lucid stare. What, Atsumu then thinks while Suna tries to read his face, out of everything you’ve said do you think has hidden words for me to read into, idiot. “We can’t keep doing that.” You’re lucky I’m so fuckin’ smart.

Suna understands— at least Atsumu now thinks he does by the way his eyes seem to change with his words. 

For the first time since he was eighteen, Atsumu feels like he can finally understand Suna again and suddenly it doesn’t matter how many years have passed and how much they have missed— it doesn’t matter how they have both been stepping on the wrong foot, taking the wrong leap, missing the right signs. 

It’s clear again, his feelings. It’s mixed in the way the conversation went— how it started with Suna’s jealousy and how it’s ending: with Atsumu speed running the past ten years in his head while clawing at all the insignificant signs he saw and never urged himself to understand.

Atsumu replays every moment they spend together. He recalling in detail the way he had subconsciously noted the times Suna had been showing his affection through every kiss, every touch, every short glance that asked silently if ‘this is okay, do you want this.’

Then there were the noises he would sometimes make, the sighs of contentment and the huffs of endearment overshadowed by the sounds of pleasure that Atsumu often tried to undermine. (So what if he moans, so what if he is calling my name, so what if there is a desperate edge to every cry he lets out when I’m with him?)

And lastly, the most telling signs had been the way Suna would always leave. How he would avoid Atsumu’s gaze, how he would swallow down any explanation, how he would retract just seconds after Atsumu thought everything could mean something more than just sex.

Suna had been walking on eggshells the entire time and Atsumu can now see the familiar signs that people show whenever they are intimidated by him— whenever they are overwhelmed and unprepared for what Atsumu is.

It hurts to know Suna had ever been insecure about him. That he ever doubted Atsumu. All he can do now is hope that the way Suna stands still before finally nodding in response to his words is done with an understanding of what Atsumu is trying to convey. 

Atsumu takes the last step he needs to close the distance between them. Their chests touch as he reaches for him without any hesitation. He cups his face the way Suna has always held him. He pulls him closer the same way he has always been pulled. 

“Push me away,” Atsumu says, his mouth already tasting the air Suna lets out when he opens his mouth to respond. 

But words never come and instead Suna kisses him faster than Atsumu did all those years ago. 

-o-

Atsumu finds Sakusa leaning against the entrance doors the moment he leaves the kitchen to return to the party. Sakusa’s eyes study his body before his eyes settle on his face. He is smirking by the time Atsumu makes it to his side.

“What did you say to him?” Sakusa shrugs and Atsumu has to breathe in before he does something stupid like tackle him.

“Omi-kun, I nearly fuckin died in there.” 

“Yeah, you look run-through.”

Atsumu feels his mouth fall open, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Did he bend you over a table? Please tell me you didn’t fuck on any of your brother’s counters. I’m never eating here again.”

“You’re such a fuckin’ bully!” Atsumu responds, his cheeks burning as he begins to fix his hair after straightening out his shirt.

Sakusa takes one look at him and grins, “Oh, you didn’t fuck?” He says with a laugh, “All that yelling and no hate sex? How pathetic.”

There is too much to unpack in that. Sakusa needs to stop reading his mind and making unhinged comments and— “yelling? Wait—”

“Tsumu!” Bokuto shouts, right next to his ear, suddenly appearing next to him. Atsumu winces but he welcomes the arm that settles on his shoulder as Bokuto hugs him. Sakusa makes a face at both of them but then his eyes shift to the space behind them and before Atsumu can turn to see what’s caught his attention Aran’s voice sounds over all other noises.

“Let's have some cake!” Atsumu’s eyes are drawn to where Aran stands with Kita, one hand waving people to come closer while the other holds a lighter that he keeps flicking on and off. “Where are the brats? Come on Atsumu! Ya ain’t gettin’ any younger!”

Atsumu clicks his tongue but before he can yell back a remark Bokuto is laughing and using the hand he has over him to start dragging him over. Atsumu squawks and then tries to put some weight on his feet just to be difficult but Bokuto is much stronger than him so all he does is laugh in response. “Come on, you have to see the cake!”

“Hold on, I gotta talk to Omi—“

“I kissed your brother,” Bokuto then says and Atsumu stops, eyes widening at the sudden confession. “For like five minutes, you’re welcome.”

More people are calling for him now. Half the guests seem to be looking at him, waiting for him to make his way over to where the other half of the guests are already watching Osamu react to the cake. Atsumu watches his brother—why are ya so surprised? It’s the same damn cake I always get— and then turns to stare at Bokuto. “What?”

“You really don’t notice, do you?” Sakusa speaks before Bokuto can respond, moving to stand on Atsumu’s other side to place a hand on his back. “You’re a mess, Miya.” Sakusa smiles, one of his nicer smiles that throws Atsumu completely off guard. Alongside Bokuto, he then begins to push Atsumu over to his brother. 

Osamu snorts when he sees him and now that Atsumu is standing closer he can see the way Osamu’s cheeks are flushed— surely because of the alcohol he has been drinking, Atsumu hopes. “Hurry up, Grandpa,” he taunts, moving just enough so that Atsumu can squeeze into the bit of room left against the wall and a table centred so that everyone in the restaurant can see them from wherever they are standing.

“We gotta light up the candles!” Aran shouts, a slight slur to his tone and Atsumu shoots Kita a quick concerned look that is dismissed with a smile as Kita takes the lighter from Aran and starts lighting the candles on the cake.

“Is that vanilla?” Atsumu asks, his eyes widening at the sight of the biggest fucking cake he has ever seen covered in white frosting. It’s nothing compared to the cake Atsumu always gets— certainly not the cake he picked up hours ago. His eyebrows are furrowed as he stares confused.

“Lemon, actually,” Gin cuts in from where he is standing by Kita, holding up his hands to keep any of the candles from blowing out.

“You’re the picky one,” Omimi adds from behind Aran, “Osamu will eat literally anything.”

“We thought Osamu got the cake every year to tease you,” Riseki pipes in, his head sticking out from the back where a few of the band members from the Inarizaki cheer squad are standing, “well, I knew differently because I actually follow you on Instagram—”

“We all have you muted since you started posting half-naked pictures every morning,” Kita chimes nonchalantly. 

Atsumu makes an embarrassed sound, “They are workout pictures!” 

“—But no one listens to me.” Riseki finishes with a shrug. Atsumu thinks he might just give him the biggest piece of cake for his efforts.

“What does it feel to be twenty-eight and still picky about chocolate?” Sakusa throws, his words sending everyone into laughter while Atsumu once again has to breathe in some air to calm the desire to throw something at him. 

“I kissed Bokkun,” Osamu decides to whisper just as Atsumu is ready to throw a witty comment back. It stops him in his tracks, his eyes widening comically as he gapes at his brother. “Yer welcome,” Osamu then adds, a hand wrapping around Atsumu’s waist while someone flicks off some of the lights of the restaurant.

“In so fuckin’ confused,” Atsumu says, an arm already on Osamu’s shoulder. His brother smiles, wide and all teeth.

All around them, their friends start to sing. Atsumu is drawn in by the candles and then by the cake; by the birthday message written in the centre. A simple ’28’ displayed and both Osamu and his name on it. He smiles, happy and then his eyes scan the room. 

These parties just keep getting bigger and bigger.

When the song is done they blow the candles together and then the cheers break out. Osamu grabs a bit of cake and before Atsumu can move, he smashes it on his cheek. 

“Happy birthday Tsumu,” he then says while everyone else laughs. Atsumu hugs him tightly while trying to rub his face against his shoulder to get the cake off.

“Yeah, no,” he then says when Osamu tries to escape, “about Bokkun—“

Kita comes between them, cutting off whatever Atsumu is going to say. He mumbles something about messes and how Osamu should know better about playing around with food. Osamu uses that opportunity to scurry off, moving towards Ginjima and Aran as they seem to have acquired more alcohol in those few seconds of commotion.

Atsumu stares, half amused and half impressed with how everyone in the party seems to be well on their way to a nasty hangover while Atsumu has had, what, three drinks all night?

“Happy birthday!” Bokuto says, probably for the fifth time today. He kisses Atsumu’s temple and then ruffles his hair while Sakusa is now mumbling something to Inunaki who seems to be recording a video with his phone. “We need to take thirty shots to celebrate!”

“I’m not even thirty!”

“Close enough,” Bokuto replies unbothered. It prompts a laugh from everyone listening in which doesn’t bother Atsumu. He is far too distracted as Hinata comes running to him, almost jumping over Bokuto to throw his arms around Atsumu for a hug.

His ‘happy birthday’ is muffled by the laughter around them and then before Atsumu can even respond, Kageyama is standing in front of him, calling Hinata an idiot and wishing Atsumu a “happy birthday or whatever”. Then it’s Akagi smacking his shoulder and calling Atsumu a ‘dilf’ before Hakuba comes around with Yaku to make fun of him for the cake on his face.

Then Atsumu loses track of who else is around him. Kita comes to give him some paper towel to wipe off the leftover cake on his face and then Gin hands him a piece of cake while the people around him keep changing as time seems to slow down and yet speed by all at once. 

He almost feels like he is high (only ever knowing that sort of feeling from when he got his wisdom teeth taken out) like he is experiencing everything through a lens that keeps changing the colours, and the focus, and the speed at which the images play. 

Atsumu watches every moment, every person—people he has known since middle school, people he has met just a few weeks ago. Friends, family, it doesn’t matter. There is an abundance of people and every smile, laugh and joy displayed feels real. He feels like this moment can last forever. 

Though perhaps it’s because Suna stands on the other side of the restaurant; his arms crossed over his chest while he watches as Komori is trying to explain something to Ushijima and Kiryuu. There is an easy smile on his face up until the moment Komori makes a grand hand gesture that has his audience tilting their heads in confusion. Suna’s head falls back as he laughs, his eyes closing and his shoulders shaking. It’s so obnoxious and ridiculous and—

“Happy birthday,” Suna had said just a few minutes ago, against his cheek before he kissed it while Atsumu felt his heart fill with a new resolve.

“Tsumu eat yer damn cake!” Osamu shouts from across the room, “All this whining about chocolate frostin’, waah waah,” Atsumu feels a vein on his head throb, “Ya better gobble down half of this cake! It cost us a damn fortune!”

-o-

October 5th, 2024

“We are missing the party,” Atsumu says to fill in the silence.

“I don’t care.”

Rin’s fingers dig into the skin on his waist before Atsumu feels the kiss on his neck. 

“It’s my birthday,” Atsumu tries to sound serious but the happiness spreading through him makes the words sound like some sort of inside joke. 

Rin hums before dragging Atsumu closer. “Happy birthday,” he says into his neck as he rests his head over Atsumu’s shoulder. 

Atsumu kisses his teeth and huffs in mock annoyance until Rin sighs deeply and then releases Atsumu only to roll over him so that he can face him for a kiss. Atsumu groans into the kiss for the elbow that dug into his side with Rin’s moving but then before he can complain, Rin kisses his cheek in a way that leaves Atsumu in awe. 

“Happy birthday,” Rin says again and as Atsumu goes to kiss him in thanks, he leans over to lick the same spot he just kissed before pinching Atsumu’s stomach. 

“Fuckin hell!” Atsumu cries out as Rin escapes his hold, almost falling off the bed in the process. “I’m gonna kill ya!” 

Rin’s laughter rings loudly through the room and Atsumu allows himself a few seconds to absorb the happiness of the sound before he finds the energy to chase after him. 

They end up going to the party. Four hours late but they show up. Rin then spends the entire time by his side, kissing his cheek whenever he wants to be an asshole and fluster Atsumu.

Then later into the night— the next day, actually, at around three in the morning Rin will drag Atsumu somewhere private just to kiss him deeply and whisper against his lips; “Happy anniversary.”

Atsumu digs a finger into his side as revenge for earlier and while Rin is moaning in pain he will cup his face and kiss him once, twice—three times as he speaks in between each kiss.

“Happy anniversary asshole.”