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"Atsumu's over there," you tell a fan, when she appears to look a little lost and awkward. She's lingering in front of your spot with a shifty look in her eyes, as if she's nervous.
"Okay," she eventually says after a moment. She averts her eyes. "I'm not here for him, though." She's planted firmly in front of your spot. Is she here to meet with you?!
"Oh!" you realize aloud. She must be here for you, then. That's... unusual. You're not accustomed to people choosing to approach you over Atsumu. "Cool. Um, feel free to take a seat, then," you offer.
There's an awkward silence for a few moments, before you break through it. "Sorry, I'm really not used to this," you admit.
"It's okay," she reassures you. "I just wanted to say that I love watching you play."
"Thanks," you say, slowly starting to get more confident as the conversation continues."Do you play at all?" you ask.
From there, your conversation continues for several more minutes, until your coach has to intervene and end the meet-and-greet event. The girl leaves you with a quick smile and a word of gratitude; you respond similarly and watch as she walks away, still feeling a little off-kilter. The other guys on the team are the ones who get attention; it's weird to be on the receiving end of it.
You eventually refocus your attention, only to find Atsumu standing where the fan was mere moments ago. "Oh, hey." You blink, wondering how he could've approached without you noticing.
"Hey," he responds. "Seems like you've got yer own fan club, huh?" Atsumu asks, raising a brow.
You huff. "Hardly," you wave off the remark. "Besides, a club needs more than one person," you point out lightly, a bit amused.
"I'll join your fan club," Atsumu offers.
"Shut up," you huff, embarrassed. "You're ridiculous." You roll your eyes. Atsumu pouts dramatically, and for a second, you can convince yourself that genuine hurt flashes across his face. But it's gone in the blink of an eye, leaving you convinced you imagined it.
And then it happens again—you get another fan. It's really strange. You definitely like it, though! It's nice to feel appreciated. You just can't help but feel like somewhat of an impostor, as you flounder through conversations with the social grace of a baby doe learning to walk.
When you finish up this conversation with a fan, you're surprised to find Atsumu making his way towards you again.
"Hey, did you hear the good news?" you ask jokingly, before he can speak. "I have a fan club now."
"Ah, nice," he says with a grin. The smile almost looks a bit tight, as if he's forcing it. You frown.
"You good?" you ask.
"Fine," Atsumu says, before murmuring something too quietly for you to hear.
You frown and lean closer. "What'd you say?"
"Nothing—!" he maintains. Before you can attempt to get the truth out of him, his brother is approaching the two of you.
"Hey," Osamu Miya greets you first, before turning to his brother. "'Tsumu. Makin' a fool of yourself again?"
"No," Atsumu asserts. His expression sours. "And hey, why'd you greet him first? I'm your brother."
"I see you all the damn time," Osamu says with a roll of his eyes.
"What brings you here?" you hum curiously, looking at Atsumu's brother.
"Ah, right," Osamu remembers. "Figured you'd want a post-game snack." He announces. You blink and suddenly he's giving you a takeout container of food.
"Oh," you say, surprised. You expected him to give something to his brother, not you. "Um, thanks," you manage to say.
"'Samu, what the hell?" Atsumu sputters, clearly wondering where his own food is.
There's a shit-eating grin on Osamu's face and you have no idea why. Atsumu looks furious, and his brother just walks away—sending a wave over his shoulder.
"What was that about?" you ask your teammate, a bit concerned by his reaction.
Atsumu growls, staring after his sibling with annoyance. "That bastard did that on purpose," he scowls. "I'll kill him, I swear."
"You want this?" you offer, holding the container out to him. Somehow, this is the wrong thing to say, because Atsumu only gets more irritated.
"No, that's—!" Atsumu chokes off, visibly upset. "Arghhh!" He storms off, leaving you to your confusion.
Osamu returns the moment Atsumu is out of view. It seems like he was eavesdropping. "Sorry about the sour mood he's gonna have," he huffs, looking at where his brother just disappeared to. "He's a fool," Osamu says with a shake of his head.
You just blink at him helplessly, unsure how to navigate the situation.
"Oh, right," Osamu recalls casually. He looks at you rather intently. "'Tsumu has feelings for you, ya know."
You stare at him in disbelief, looking for dishonesty or amusement on his face. But he seems entirely sincere.
"Give this to him, will ya?" Osamu then asks, as if he hadn't just shattered your entire world. You're sure your shock is showing on your face. "I was just messing around; I made something for him too." He hands you another takeout container of food. You manage to get your hands to take it, albeit with a delayed reaction.
Within seconds, Osamu's gone again. What the fuck? Does this guy have teleportation abilities or something? But no, if you squint, you can see him walking away. Osamu's just very... evasive, it seems.
You stare after him for a moment, before shaking your head and returning to the locker room. "Atsumu?" you ask, wandering around the room and holding the food containers.
"Go away."
Uh oh. He sounds like he's in one of his moods, just as Osamu predicted. You feel kind of guilty, despite having no idea what's going on. You wander through the space for a bit longer, before remembering the small lounge room in the corner. You tilt the door open.
"Atsumu," you greet him. "Your brother brought you some food."
"Just... put it down there," Atsumu says dejectedly. He doesn't sound like himself at all.
"I'm coming in," you announce, before opening the door fully and stepping in. You hand him the food container before crouching down to sit across from him.
The two of you eat in silence for a while, before you decide to take a chance. "Is this about your brother?" you ask your teammate. "He said he was messing with you."
"I know he was," Atsumu almost snarls. Then he shakes his head. "Sorry. I'm not mad at you," he clarifies.
"It's okay," you reassure him. "Siblings are annoying, I get it."
"...But, um, Osamu told me something," you blurt out before you can stop yourself.
Somehow, Atsumu looks even more upset now. Damn it, you just destroyed any of the progress you made. "He didn't," Atsumu says pleadingly. "Tell me he didn't."
"He did; he said you like me," you manage to say. Your heart is racing in your chest. You set your food container off to the side—the two of you finished eating several moments ago.
Atsumu groans and buries his head in his hands. "I wish I were an only child..." he mutters, clearly distressed. You're immediately worried by his uncharacteristic vulnerability.
"Hey, hey, don't panic," you say, moving closer to him. You try to get him to look at you, but he's keeping his face hidden. He must be really embarrassed—you've never seen him look so despondent. "I have no idea if it's even true. But, if it is... I'd be happy."
His head snaps up with surprising speed. "What?" Atsumu asks, studying your expression and searching your face. "What?" he exclaims.
"I have feelings for you," you admit. "I'm not sure if Osamu was telling the truth, but if he was, then you don't have to be embarrassed. And if he was lying, then I'm the only one who should feel embarrassed."
He's tugging you into a kiss the moment you finish speaking. You place a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. His hands fall to your waist and he tugs you even closer, his touch sending heat up your spine.
"I can't believe this," Atsumu says when you break apart. He's looking at you with a mix of disbelief and adoration. Then he seems to come to a realization and he grimaces. "Osamu's gonna be insufferable."
"Probably," you sigh resignedly. "But, hey, we could pretend this never happened. Prank him or something."
"Nah," Atsumu says unexpectedly. He reaches for your hand and clasps it reassuringly. "I don't wanna pretend anymore." His thumb glides over your knuckles and you smile.
"Hey, Hinata," you greet your teammate casually, bending down to begin taking off your volleyball shoes and gear. It's nice to be able to wind down, now that you're finally finished with that stupid meet-and-greet event.
"Hey!" Hinata says brightly. "How'd the meet and greet go?"
"Probably not as smoothly as usual, considering I was there instead of you," you admit with a huff, managing to get your shoes and kneepads off. Hinata's a lot more popular and likable than you are.
"Oh, come on," Hinata chastises. "I'm sure you did great!"
"Your relentless optimism is appreciated, Shoyo," you say with a resigned sigh, putting some sweatpants on and gathering your stuff together. Fortunately, today's match was a home game, so you can leave most of your equipment in your locker. Somehow, you end up being ready before Hinata is, leaving you to lean against one of the lockers next to his and wait for him.
"I'm just saying it how it is," he then says with a frown. He shrugs a hoodie on and gets to his feet. You realize you're standing a little close and take a step back to give him some space. "You're an awesome player!"
"Thanks," you say, a smile rising on your lips at the compliment. Hinata is super bubbly and positive, sure, but he won't say things he doesn't mean. His compliments are always earnest and genuine.
"Speaking of..." Hinata trails off, a devious smile on his face. You feel something lurch in your chest at the sight. "Wanna sign my volleyball?" He promptly grabs his bag and takes out his ball, holding it out to you.
"What?" you choke out, looking at the unmarked volleyball in his hands. "Why?" You look at him in confusion.
"I want your autograph, duh," Hinata responds easily.
"But no one else has signed the ball yet..." you remark, putting a hand on the ball and inspecting it in his grip.
"You'll be the first, then." He says with a bright smile. And gods, how can he just say those things? With those sparkling eyes of his? You avert your eyes, pretending not to be flustered.
"Okay," you agree, if only to get a reprieve from that adoring look in his eyes. Hinata smiles and grabs a pen for his bag, handing it to you. You uncap it and prepare to write something, only to pause. "Is this for your sister?" you clarify.
"Nope, all for me," Hinata grins unapologetically. Your skin feels like it's on fire. Has the air temperature gotten warmer all of a sudden? You resolutely focus on signing the ball, before acknowledging the remark.
"Shoyo, you're going to kill me one of these days," you sigh once you finish writing. Hinata just laughs, placing a hand on your shoulder and thanking you for the autograph.
...If you spend the rest of the day overanalyzing every bit of that encounter, then, well, no one else has to know.
You're one of the more inconspicuous players on the Black Jackals. Players like Atsumu and Bokuto—those with stand-out personalities and the good looks to match—often snap up all of the fans' attention. And normally, you wouldn't mind. But sitting at the meet-and-greet entirely neglected is a bit of a blow to your self-esteem.
You're a bit surprised, then, to notice that someone has moved to sit across from you. You look up, ready to greet the fan. But the greeting promptly dies in your throat. "Bokuto?" you say instead, staring at your teammate.
"Hey!" he greets you. He's energetic as always, practically buzzing in the chair. "I just wanted to say that I love you, like so much. Dude! Your playing! It's like... wow!" You stare at him for a moment in complete disbelief.
"Bokuto..." you then trail off quietly, embarrassed. Your shame and humiliation only seem to encourage him, as he promptly stares at you as if you're making his entire year by speaking to him.
"And your cut shot in the third set was so awesome!" he gushes, almost bouncing in his seat now. "I don't know how you bend your wrist like that, it's crazy!"
You just bring your head down to rest on the table, hiding in humiliation. His earnest praise is making you feel very flustered, for reasons you'd rather not elucidate.
"You're a piece of work," you tell him somewhat fondly, once the event is officially finished. Bokuto just lets out a hmph.
"Hey, that's no way to treat your number one fan!" he pouts, practically deflating before your eyes.
"I'm just kidding," you feel the need to clarify. It was a sweet gesture. "...Thanks. That was pretty cute, actually."
And he's back to normal again. He almost looks bashful. There's a light blush dusting his cheeks. Then he frowns in frustration. (Why is everything he does so adorable?!) "I just hate to see ya not getting the recognition you deserve," he says, sounding far too sincere. You blink in surprise, not expecting the comment.
"Oh," you say. "It's okay. I don't want a fan club or anything." It's true, you don't. You'd rather slip under the radar than have a giant line of screaming fans like Atsumu always does.
"Well, you should have one anyways!" Bokuto insists passionately. "Hell, I'll be the president!"
"Thanks, Bokuto," you say sincerely. The memory of his eagerness and kind compliments stays in your mind for far longer than it should.
You don't typically do meet-and-greet events, because you don't quite know how to act. You're always a bit awkward—nothing like Atsumu or Bokuto, who can navigate even the weirdest of conversations with complete ease and skill. No, you've always been a bit too... reserved. Sakusa and you have that in common.
Normally, being reserved suits you just fine. But now, as you find yourself trapped under this fan's uncomfortably intense gaze, you wish you were more assertive. She's been slowly moving closer to you throughout the conversation, leaving you to lean back until you're practically molding against the back of your chair.
She's asking you rather strange questions, too. You feel your fists clench at your sides as you try to keep yourself grounded. You want to tell her off, or make her get away, but your tongue feels locked to the roof of your mouth. Your surroundings are blurring and everything just feels hopeless, as the conversation just drags and drags—
"You're making him uncomfortable," a familiar voice says, cold and blunt.
The fan shrinks back, enforcing some distance between you both again. You can't quite hide your relief as you glance at Sakusa, who's looking particularly irritated. At least, you think he looks irritated—he has his face mask on, so you can only see the slight furrow to his brows.
Under Sakusa's watchful gaze, the fan clearly grows intimidated and eventually departs. You can't quite hide your gratitude as you glance over at your teammate.
"I see why you don't do these events," Sakusa acknowledges, something like distaste evident in his expression.
"Yeah," is the most you can get yourself to say, still reeling and a bit frustrated with yourself for not speaking up. You stare down at your trembling hands and frown.
Sakusa just scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Clean your hands," he suggests.
"Okay," you agree after a moment, if only to see the surprise flicker across his face at how easily you give in. You reach across the table and take a healthy dose of hand sanitizer, cleaning your hands. "Let's head back," you say.
The two of you start walking back to the locker room. It's entirely silent, before you eventually gather the courage to speak. "Thanks," you say. "For, y'know..." you break off, hoping he'll understand what you're implying.
"Speak up if it happens again," Sakusa says, in lieu of a response to your gratitude. "Tell them to back off," he continues, looking at you pointedly.
"I know I should," you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I just kind of... lock up. I always freeze."
Sakusa shakes his head disapprovingly. "You need to assert your boundaries, or they'll trample all over them," he says, a stormy expression on his face.
The two of you walk in a slightly more tense silence for a few moments. Then Sakusa does something so uncharacteristic you nearly freeze in place: he puts an arm around your shoulder. It's a light gesture, barely even tangible. You somehow manage to convince yourself to keep walking, despite immediately wondering what has gotten into Sakusa. He must be sick or something. He's never tactile like this.
When you reach the locker room, his arm falls away and he stares at you hard enough to melt your skin off. Eventually, you can't pretend to ignore him any longer—and you look over at him expectantly.
"That was a test," Sakusa explains. His hands are in his pockets again. "And you failed." He frowns.
"A test?" you question. You suppose that makes far more sense than anything else. "I was supposed to push you away?" you ask.
Sakusa nods.
"I didn't need to," you say before you can stop yourself. You didn't mean to say that aloud.
"Why not?" Sakusa questions, clearly disbelieving.
"Because it's you," you respond. "I wasn't uncomfortable." You trust Sakusa enough to know he would never have untoward intentions. The gesture was merely friendly—hell, it was hardly even friendly. He was treating it as a test, so there was barely anything behind it.
This time it's Sakusa's turn to be surprised. You can barely see the emotion—just a slight raise to his brows and a widening of the eyes. But it's clear he didn't expect you to say that.
Eventually, Sakusa just sighs. "You're hopeless," he huffs. Your teammate sounds almost fond—and for once, you think you're not just imagining it.