Archive of Our Own

“Did you hear?” 

Atsumu sighs, looking up from where he’s seated in his brother’s newly opened Tokyo store. He doesn’t get to travel to see his brother too often, but with a couple of days off while the Black Jackals are having tryouts for a new opposite hitter, Atsumu figured that it would be a good time to go see his brother at the newest branch of Onigiri Miya . 

“Hear what?” He asks, scrolling through the team’s group chat, trying to see if there has been anyone interesting who they’ve spotted. Apparently an old friend of Bokuto’s would be trying out, and Bokuto was so excited about seeing him again that he had turned down Atsumu’s invitation to go to Tokyo. They often travel there together since Bokuto loves to go back and see his high school best friend- who also happens to be Atsumu’s brother-in-law, and the reason why Osamu had decided to open a Tokyo branch of his restaurant in the first place.

“Shoyo-kun is back in Japan,” Osamu says, though he doesn’t look happy to be sharing this announcement even a little bit. The look on his face is tentative, like he’s trying to decide if he should be sharing that information with Atsumu at all. Like he’s trying to figure out if Atsumu is still going to break down at the sound of Shoyo’s name after all of this time, like he had done for the first year after Shoyo left. 

And, though he no longer feels sadness and annoyance and betrayal bubbling up beneath the surface when he hears Shoyo’s name, Atsumu is still sure that he must have misheard his brother. 

Because… what? Shoyo - back in Japan? After nearly three years of trading in court volleyball for beach volleyball? After leaving Atsumu with a broken heart, never to be heard from again?

“What?” 

“I just thought that you should know,” Osamu says. “Keiji told me that he’s back. Told me that he’s been sleeping on Bokuto-san’s couch for a couple of days while he waits for-” 

“Tryouts,” Atsumu guesses, though there’s no questioning intonation in his voice. 

He knows Shoyo. Even after years of being apart from one another, Atsumu knows Shoyo well enough to know that he’s back in Japan to play in the V League. Back to join the best possible team that he can. And Atsumu knows that his team is the only one that Shoyo would even want to try out for right now. 

Osamu nods, still looking guilty even though literally none of this is his fault. “Keiji mentioned it and… I know that no one knows about the two of you except for me and that one boy with the nasty jump floaters that Shoyo-kun used to play with…” 

And that’s largely true. Of course, both of their parents knew about Atsumu and Shoyo’s high school romance. Atsumu doesn’t think that he would have been able to afford all of his train tickets up to Miyagi without the help of his parents and he knows for sure that Shoyo’s mother always wanted to know exactly where he was, so he wouldn’t have been able to make weekend trips to Hyogo without his mother knowing, but no one else really knew. 

Atsumu is comfortable in his sexuality, though he knows that being a prominent athlete, he needs to keep it to himself, but he stayed quiet for Shoyo’s sake, who had apparently gone through a lot of emotions when he first developed a crush on Atsumu.

But since Atsumu and Osamu shared a bedroom when they lived in their hometown, Osamu knew about his crush on Shoyo before Atsumu had even realized it himself. And Yamaguchi had walked in on them making out in the boy’s bathroom at Nationals during Atsumu’s final year of high school, so Shoyo had (red-faced and adorably flustered) told him that they’d been dating for about six months at that point. 

Atsumu started to play for the Black Jackals right after high school, but it actually made seeing Shoyo easier. They played a few games in Sendai, where Shoyo would be in the stands, cheering his heart out for Atsumu. And the train ride between Osaka and Miyagi was a lot shorter than between Hyogo and Miyagi. 

Things were perfect. 

Then, much like Osamu had broken Atsumu’s heart when he decided to quit playing volleyball, Shoyo broke his heart, too.

“He has to know that I’m the setter, right?” Atsumu says now, pushing the thoughts of Shoyo leaving out of his brain. “Like, I don’t know how much he kept up with Japanese volleyball while he was gone, but if he’s friends with Bokkun and Keiji-kun, then he has to know, right? And, I bet that he still talks to Tobio-kun all of the time, so he has to know that I’m still playing and knows that I haven’t left the Black Jackals.” 

Atsumu looks up at Osamu, feeling hopeless. The look on Osamu’s face is very much one of pity. He doesn’t say anything right away, which only makes Atsumu feel worse. His brother has always been the type to speak his mind, bluntly and without much care for sugarcoating things, so the hesitation now feels like a warning. 

Finally, Osamu exhales and shrugs a little, the way he always does when he’s trying to act like something’s not a big deal even though it is. 

“I mean… I’d assume he knows,” Osamu says carefully, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “But does it really matter, ‘Tsumu? If he’s tryin’ out, he’s tryin’ out. Ain’t like you can stop him.”

That’s not the point, though, and they both know it. 

Atsumu sits back in his chair, crossing his arms defensively. His brain is already working overtime, scrambling to process what all of this might mean. The idea of Shoyo coming back- to volleyball, to Japan, to him - feels impossible, like a bad joke or a half-forgotten dream. 

“I just don’t get it,” Atsumu says after a long pause, his voice quieter now. “Why now? Why come back at all? He was doin’ good, wasn’t he? All those tournaments on the beach and stuff. Why’d he leave all that behind?”

Osamu raises an eyebrow, as if to say, You really don’t get it? But Atsumu honestly doesn’t. Not completely. Shoyo has always been unpredictable, a little impulsive, but he doesn’t make decisions lightly. He wouldn’t come back just for the hell of it.

And he knows that Osamu’s point is something closer to He came back for you than He realized that he wants to stay on the hardwood court rather than the sand , but that doesn’t make any sense. He’s been staying with Bokuto, while Atsumu didn’t even know that he was in the country.

“You could ask him yourself,” Osamu suggests after another beat of silence, his tone a little too casual. “If he makes the team, that is.”

Atsumu glares at him. “Not funny.”

Osamu just smirks, but there’s no real humor in it. Atsumu knows his twin well enough to know that Osamu is trying to act casual for Atsumu’s sake and Atsumu’s sake alone. “Look, ‘Tsumu, I ain’t tryna stir things up for ya. I just figured you’d want to know, since he’s gonna be around again. You’re the one who has to figure out how to deal with that, not me.”

The words hit Atsumu harder than they should, mostly because they’re true. No matter how much he wants to avoid it, he knows he’s going to have to deal with Shoyo sooner or later. If Shoyo does make the team- and let’s be real, Atsumu thinks, there’s no way he won’t - they’ll be back in each other’s lives, whether Atsumu’s ready for it or not. 

And he’s most certainly not ready for it. Not when his feelings for Shoyo haven’t changed in the slightest in all of the time that they’ve been apart.

The thought leaves him feeling raw, like someone’s gone and reopened an old wound he thought had long since healed. He pushes back his chair abruptly, standing up and shoving his phone into his pocket. 

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” he mutters, not looking at Osamu. “Need some air.”

Osamu doesn’t try to stop him. He just watches as Atsumu grabs his coat and heads for the door, the faint sound of the bell jingling behind him as he steps out into the Tokyo street. 

The cold air hits his face immediately, sharp and bracing, but it doesn’t do much to clear his mind. His thoughts are still racing, bouncing between anger, confusion, and something that feels dangerously close to hope. 

Because no matter how much he tries to convince himself otherwise, there’s a part of him that still misses Shoyo. A part of him that Atsumu has tried time and time again to push down because time and distance do a lot to change the way a person might feel. A part of him that’s never stopped wondering what might have happened if things had gone differently. 

And now, whether he likes it or not, it seems like he might finally get the chance to find out. 

🏐🏐🏐

“And, of course, we can welcome our new opposite hitter before we get started,” their captain, Meian, says before practice officially begins. “Welcome Hinata Shoyo, who has never played in the V League before, but spent years practicing and gaining fame and popularity in Brazil.” 

“He’s also my best disciple,” Bokuto pipes up, looking proud. “I taught him how to do a feint when we were in high school.” 

Shoyo’s eyes are bright, looking around the gym as he bounces on his heels, clearly excited. But Atsumu can tell that Shoyo is also insanely nervous. Can tell by the way his eyes are wide, instead of narrowed how they are when Shoyo’s particularly excited. Can tell by the way he’s bouncing on his toes. Can tell by the way Shoyo’s eyes have not met his own even once.

“Right,” Meian says, not playing into Bokuto’s antics at all. “Let’s get started with practice, then.”

Shoyo and Atsumu don’t cross paths throughout the entirety of practice. They have two setters on the team, and it’s Shoyo’s first practice, so he hits with the reserve setter instead of with Atsumu. Atsumu notices that not only is Shoyo’s point of contact so much higher than it was when they were in high school, but that he really did achieve everything that he set out to do when they were in high school. His serves are great, his receiving is top tier, and his tosses aren’t too shabby either. 

Atsumu can’t help but be proud, even though Shoyo’s increase in talent came at the price of Atsumu’s heart. 

When practice is over, Sakusa wanders over to where Atsumu is throwing things in his bag, just trying to get out of the gym without having to speak with his ex-boyfriend. 

“You’re acting weird,” Sakusa, never one to hold anything back, says. “Normally after a break, we can’t get you to leave the gym for hours after practice is over. Why are you in such a hurry now?” 

“No reason,” Atsumu says quickly. He really wants to get out of here. Like right now. Before something like-

“TsumTsum! OmiOmi!” 

Before something like Bokuto happens. 

“I know that the captain introduced him to everyone, and I’m pretty sure that both of you played against him in high school, but I wanted to introduce my disciple to my best friends on the team!” 

“We’re acquaintances at best ,” Sakusa mutters, while Atsumu freezes. 

Slowly turning around, Atsumu realizes that, for the first time in nearly three years, Shoyo’s eyes are locked in on him. 

And Atsumu… He feels like the world has stopped. Feels like time is frozen around them as he’s looking into Shoyo’s eyes. Because he’s able to block out whatever greeting Sakusa had given Shoyo, is able to block out whatever bragging Bokuto is doing in regards to his involvement in Shoyo’s volleyball career, is able to block out all of the noise surrounding the two of them.

It’s like Atsumu and Shoyo are the only people on the planet.

And Atsumu realizes that he is fully, one-hundred percent fucked.

“‘Tsu- Miya-san.”  

Shoyo’s voice is soft, but it cuts through the chaos of the gym like a perfectly timed serve. Atsumu’s chest tightens at the sound of it, painfully familiar, yet somehow sharper now, like it’s had years to refine itself. 

“Hinata,” Atsumu responds- not letting it escape him that Shoyo had almost called him ‘Tsumu , like he used to do when they were together- and it comes out quieter than he intends. His throat feels dry, and the name tastes bittersweet on his tongue, like something he’s been longing to say but never dared to.  

Shoyo’s eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, Atsumu thinks he sees something flicker in them- curiosity, guilt, maybe even relief. But just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by a small, polite smile that feels far too formal for the boy Atsumu used to know.  

“It’s good to see you again,” Shoyo says, and the words are careful, measured. Nothing like the Shoyo who used to burst into Atsumu’s apartment, laughing too loudly, his energy filling every corner of the room.  

“Yeah,” Atsumu says, his voice tight. “You too.”  

Bokuto is still talking- something about how Shoyo’s beach volleyball skills are going to revolutionize their offense, whatever that means- but Atsumu can’t hear a word of it. His focus is entirely on Shoyo, who’s standing just a few feet away but feels miles out of reach.  

He looks different, Atsumu thinks. Not in a bad way, though. He’s still got the same messy hair, the same bright eyes, the same Shoyo-ness that made Atsumu fall for him in the first place. 

But there’s something else now, too. A kind of maturity, a steadiness that wasn’t there before. It suits him, but it also makes Atsumu’s chest ache with the reminder of just how much time has passed.  

Plus, he got tan as hell and Atsumu thinks that the bronze color of his skin is maybe the most beautiful sight that he’s ever seen.

Before Atsumu can think of anything else to say- or maybe run for the exit like he desperately wants to- Shoyo shifts his weight and glances away, breaking the moment. “Well,” Shoyo says, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that’s achingly familiar. “I’ll see you at practice tomorrow, Miya-san.”  

Atsumu flinches at the formality. 

Miya-san.  

Like they’re strangers, like they’re not two people with a history tangled together so tightly that Atsumu hasn’t been able to untangle himself from it for years.  

“Yeah,” Atsumu says again, because it’s all he can manage. “See you.”  

Shoyo nods once, then turns to follow Bokuto, who’s already dragging him toward the showers, still rambling excitedly about how excited he is for them to be playing together again, like they’d apparently done at training camps back in high school.  

Atsumu doesn’t move. He just stands there, watching Shoyo’s retreating figure until it disappears around the corner.  

“I told you you were acting weird,” Sakusa says flatly, breaking the silence.  

“Shut up, Omi,” Atsumu snaps, slinging his bag over his shoulder and storming toward the door.  

Sakusa doesn’t bother responding, though Atsumu can feel his stare burning into Atsumu’s back as he storms out of the gym. He knows Sakusa isn’t one for gossip- mostly because Sakusa always ignores when Atsumu tries to gossip with him- but he also knows that whatever just happened isn’t going to go unnoticed for long by the remainder of the team. Not with how transparent he’s acting.  

The cool night air hits him as he steps outside, but unlike when he was in Tokyo, this time it does nothing to soothe the turmoil in his chest. Atsumu starts walking aimlessly, his mind racing with questions he doesn’t have answers to. 

What the hell was that? Why did Shoyo have to act like they were strangers? 

And why did it hurt so damn much?  

It’s like every step Shoyo takes toward this new chapter of his life pushes Atsumu further into the past, back to those memories he’s tried so hard to bury. Memories of Shoyo’s infectious laughter, of the way his smile lit up a room, of the nights they spent tangled up together, dreaming of futures that they thought would always include each other.  

But those dreams had been shattered the day Shoyo left.  

Atsumu shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but it’s no use. He can still see Shoyo’s polite smile, can still hear the careful way he said, “Miya-san,” like he hadn’t once whispered Atsumu’s name like it was the most sacred word in his vocabulary.  

“Get a grip, Miya,” he mutters to himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

He can’t let this get to him. Not now. Not when there’s a whole season ahead of them and Shoyo’s officially part of the team.  

But no matter how much he tries to convince himself to move on, there’s a small, stubborn part of him that can’t help but wonder: Why did Shoyo come back?  

And why does it feel like he’s still holding something back?  

🏐🏐🏐

The next morning, Atsumu is one of the first to arrive at the gym. He tells himself it’s because he wants to get extra reps in, because he ate a little too much out of his diet when he was visiting his brother, but deep down, he knows it’s because he wants to avoid walking in and seeing Shoyo already there, surrounded by the team, fitting in like he’s always belonged.  

Because that’s what Shoyo does. He fits . Whether it’s on the court or off, Shoyo has this way of making people gravitate toward him. It’s one of the things Atsumu loved about him.  

Loved . 

He grimaces at the thought, grabbing a ball from the rack and heading to the net. The gym is quiet, save for the rhythmic thud of the ball hitting the floor as he practices his serves. It’s therapeutic, in a way, letting the repetition drown out the noise in his head. And, well, Atsumu would be lying if he said that he’s not hitting his spike serves a little harder than normal. So that’s pretty therapeutic, too.

But it doesn’t last long.  

The sound of the gym doors opening snaps Atsumu out of his focus, and he turns to see none other than Shoyo walking in, his bag slung over one shoulder and a bright, determined look on his face.  

“Ah, Miya-san,” Shoyo says when he spots Atsumu, his voice cheerful but still too polite. And he still kind of looks like he might run out of the gym at any given moment. “You’re here early.”  

“Yeah,” Atsumu replies shortly, turning back to the net. He doesn’t trust himself to say more. Doesn’t trust himself to not say something like, “Is that all I am now? Just Miya-san? Are you going to pretend that we never knew each other before? Pretend that you didn’t love me?” if he opens his mouth so it’s probably best to not say anything right now.

Shoyo hesitates for a moment, then sets his bag down and picks up a ball from the rack. “Mind if I join you?”  

Atsumu freezes. It’s such a simple question, but it feels loaded, like there’s more meaning behind it than Shoyo’s letting on. 

“Suit yourself,” Atsumu says after a beat, keeping his tone neutral. He’s not sure he can handle this, but he also doesn’t want to be the one to walk away first.  

They fall into a rhythm, practicing serves and tosses in near silence. The tension between them is palpable, but neither of them acknowledges it. It’s almost like they’re both waiting for the other to crack first.  

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Shoyo speaks.  

“You’ve gotten even better,” he says, his tone genuine, the way that it’s always been when Shoyo is doling out compliments. “Your tosses are sharper. More precise.”  

Atsumu glances at him, caught off guard. “Thanks,” he says gruffly, not sure what else to say.  

Shoyo smiles- an actual smile this time, not the polite one from yesterday that Atsumu hates- and Atsumu feels his chest tighten all over again.  

“I missed this,” Shoyo says softly, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.  

Atsumu’s heart skips a beat, and for a moment, he’s tempted to ask, What exactly did you miss? The game? Playing on the court? 

Or me?  

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he just nods, forcing himself to look away before Shoyo can see the storm of emotions in his eyes.  

“Yeah,” Atsumu murmurs, voice barely audible. “Me too.”

They stay after practice, too.

Apparently Shoyo had been missing the feel of the hardwood floor underneath his feet. Since he got so used to diving around with relatively little to worry about, he’s worried that he could get hurt with the new terrain. Worried that, without practice, he might twist his ankle or scrape up his knees.

The gym is empty by the time Atsumu and Shoyo wrap up their extra drills. The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead is the only noise left, punctuated by the occasional echo of a ball bouncing against the hardwood. Atsumu notices how Shoyo moves now. More controlled, more deliberate. 

It’s different from the reckless energy Shoyo had in high school, where he threw himself at every ball like his life depended on it. The new precision suits him, but Atsumu can’t help missing the raw chaos that used to define Shoyo’s game. It was that pure enthusiasm that made Atsumu stupidly go up to Shoyo and swear that he’d be the one setting for him someday.

“You’ve gotten smarter about your dives,” Atsumu comments, breaking the silence. He immediately regrets it because the words come out softer than he intended, more like a compliment instead of just an observation.

Shoyo grins, that real smile that lights up his whole face and makes Atsumu’s heart race. “Brazil will do that to you. Sand’s forgiving, but it’ll still punish you if you don’t move right.”

“Didn’t seem like you cared much about punishment back then,” Atsumu replies, and there’s a flicker of something playful in his tone. Something familiar.

Shoyo laughs, short and light, but it’s enough to send a wave of warmth through Atsumu’s chest. “Guess I had to grow up sometime, huh?”

Atsumu doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he tosses the ball in his hand toward Shoyo, watching as he catches it effortlessly. There’s a pause, one that feels heavy with all the words Atsumu wants to say but knows he shouldn’t.

“You’re staying late for this, too,” Shoyo points out when the silence between them stretches, tilting his head as he studies Atsumu. “What’s your excuse?”

“Conditioning,” Atsumu lies, much too quickly to be convincing. “Gotta stay sharp.”

Shoyo hums in response, not buying it but not pressing, either. He spins the ball absently in his hands, his gaze fixed on the net. “I really did miss this, you know.”

Atsumu’s throat tightens. “What? Volleyball?”

“Yeah,” Shoyo says, then hesitates, his fingers pausing on the ball. “And... just being part of a team like this. Playing with people who push me to be better. It’s different when it’s all sand and one other person, you know? Like, my partners there all helped me become better, all pushed me in some way. But, you just don’t get the same… hm… feeling.”

Atsumu doesn’t know if Shoyo’s being deliberately vague or if it’s just his own brain filling in the blanks, but he swallows hard and forces himself to nod. “Yeah, makes sense.”

Shoyo glances at him then, and there’s something searching in his eyes, like he’s trying to gauge Atsumu’s reaction. “It’s not just about the game, though,” he says quietly, apparently finding what he was looking for in Atsumu’s eyes. “It’s about the people.”

Atsumu’s heart does something strange in his chest- something he really doesn’t have time to unpack right now. “People, huh?”

Shoyo nods, his gaze steady now. “I missed a lot of people while I was gone.”

There’s a weight to his words, one that Atsumu feels like he should address, but instead, he deflects, kicking a stray ball with the toe of his shoe. “Well, you’re back now, so you can stop missing people.”

It’s a weak response, and he knows it. But it’s the best he can manage without letting his guard down completely.

And he really needs to figure out what he feels, and what he wants, before he can truly address Shoyo’s unsaid words.

“Yeah,” Shoyo agrees softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I guess I can.”

The conversation lingers in the air between them, unfinished but not uncomfortable. Atsumu can feel the pull of Shoyo’s presence, the way it’s always been impossible to ignore, but he doesn’t let himself dwell on it. Instead, he grabs the nearest ball and sets it back on the rack, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

“We should get outta here,” Atsumu says finally, his voice gruff. “Don’t wanna piss off the janitor.”

Shoyo chuckles, following his lead. “Yeah, good call.”

As they gather their things, Atsumu tries not to think about how natural it feels, falling back into this rhythm with Shoyo. Like no time has passed at all. But then Shoyo slings his bag over his shoulder and flashes Atsumu another one of those warm, genuine smiles, and Atsumu knows he’s lying to himself.

Time has passed. 

Everything’s changed.

And yet, somehow, Shoyo still feels like home.

🏐🏐🏐

Extra practice in the gym together turns into running and doing yoga together and Atsumu becomes Atsumu-san to Shoyo. Working out together turns into meal planning and meal prepping together and Atsumu becomes Atsumu to Shoyo. Meal planning and meal prepping turns into eating dinner and watching anime together and Atsumu becomes ‘Tsumu to Shoyo.

And that all turns into Atsumu realizing that he’s one-hundred percent, absolutely, overwhelmingly, still head over heels in love with Hinata Shoyo.

And… Atsumu doesn’t know how he feels about that. 

Because, he’s still tender from their breakup. He’s still unsure and cautious and worried. 

Because, yes, Shoyo thinks through everything that he does. He goes after what he truly wants and Atsumu knows that there’s nothing that will ever stop him from getting it.

But… What if what Shoyo wants change again? What if Shoyo wants to go play with Tobio or go back to Brazil? What if he wants to stop volleyball altogether? What if his plans, just like last time, don’t include Atsumu? 

Can he really afford to get his heart broken again?

So, of course, Atsumu does the thing that he’s best at (besides volleyball). 

He calls his brother to whine about his problems.

Osamu picks up on the second ring, sounding predictably unimpressed.  

“The hell do you want?” he grumbles, and Atsumu can hear the clatter of dishes in the background. “I’m in the middle of prep, and if this is about your stupid setter problems, I don’t wanna hear it.”  

Atsumu scowls, flopping onto his bed and staring at the ceiling. “It ain’t about setter problems,” he grumbles, even though it’s kind of about setter problems. Well. It’s, at the very least, kind of about volleyball problems because Atsumu’s realized he’s still in love with his new teammate.

Osamu snorts. “Then, what, you suddenly got real interested in bakin’? Need help with your rice to protein ratio? Because I’ve seen how much you can eat, ‘Tsumu. Your dietitian should be worried.”  

Atsumu groans, dragging a hand down his face. “No, you absolute ass, it’s about…” He hesitates. Saying it out loud makes it too real. Makes it something he can’t keep pretending is just in his head.  

Osamu waits. Atsumu can hear the sound of a knife against a cutting board, steady and unbothered. Finally, when Atsumu doesn’t immediately spill his guts, Osamu sighs. “It’s about Shoyo-kun, ain’t it?”  

Atsumu closes his eyes. “Shut up.”  

“That’s a yes.” Osamu’s tone is smug in that infuriating way only a twin brother can be. “I knew this would happen the moment that Keiji told me he was back. Knew that you’d regress back to bein’ hopelessly in love with that little ball of energy.”

Atsumu bolts upright, clutching his phone like it might help him throttle Osamu through the line. “I ain’t regressin’! And I ain’t hopeless!”  

Osamu hums, his tone teasing. “Oh, sure. You just happened to spend every spare second practicin’, eatin’, and watchin’ anime with him. Completely normal teammate behavior, yeah?”  

“It is normal,” Atsumu insists, his voice rising in pitch. Then, realizing that he has absolutely not disclosed any of his post-practice rendezvous with Shoyo, he adds, “And how did you even know about any of that?” 

“My husband’s best friend is Bokuto-san,” Osamu says. “Keiji basically gets daily updates on what every member of your team is doing.” 

And, really, yeah. Atsumu should have known better. “What a traitor. Spreading gossip and slander about me and Shoyo-kun.”

“Uh-huh.” The chopping sound pauses, and Atsumu can picture Osamu wiping his hands off and leaning against the counter, wearing that smug, know-it-all grin. “And you’re tellin’ me that all those long, soulful looks you keep throwin’ his way are just gossip and slander, too?”  

“I don’t throw soulful looks,” Atsumu snaps, though the heat rising in his face betrays him. “Me and Bokkun really need to talk about what court chemistry is. Because that’s all that he should be seeing between us.”  

Osamu snorts. “You know that Bokuto-san is hearing all of that shit from Shoyo-kun, right? He’s the one talking about hanging out with you. Like he likes it. Like he likes you.” 

And… Atsumu gets that. 

But it’s more complicated than that. If it were just that he likes Shoyo and Shoyo likes him, then things would be a lot easier. Atsumu would simply ask Shoyo to go out with him on a date, take him to the first ramen place he could find and kiss him goodnight. Just like he’d done back in high school.

But things are different now.

Atsumu falls back against his bed, groaning loud enough to shake the walls. “You don’t get it, ‘Samu. It’s not that easy.”  

Osamu doesn’t reply right away, and for a moment, the only sound is the faint clatter of dishes being stacked. “I get it more than ya think, ‘Tsumu. You’re scared.”  

Atsumu blinks at the ceiling. He was expecting more teasing, maybe some snide remark about how he always overthinks things. But there’s something different in Osamu’s tone now, something understanding.  

“Shut up,” Atsumu mutters, but it’s weak, and Osamu knows it.  

“Listen,” Osamu continues, his voice steady. “You got hurt the first time. I get that. But you know Shoyo-kun, right? He’s not the kind of guy to come back into your life just to hurt you again. If he’s spendin’ all this time with you, maybe it’s because he’s thinkin’ the same thing you are. Maybe he’s scared, too.”  

Atsumu swallows, his chest tight. “What if he’s not? What if I say somethin’, and it screws everything up? What if he doesn’t want-”  

“What if he does?” Osamu cuts him off, his voice firm now. “What if he’s waitin’ for you to make the first move, because he doesn’t wanna screw things up either? I mean, he’s the one who left, remember? He’s probably scared you hate him. Or that you won’t ever forgive him for leaving.”  

Atsumu presses the heel of his hand to his forehead, his mind spinning. He wants to argue, wants to find some way to poke a hole in Osamu’s logic, but he can’t. Because as much as he hates to admit it, Osamu might be right.  

“Look,” Osamu says, voice softer now. “You don’t gotta decide right this second. But if I were you, I’d think about what’s worse: takin’ the risk, or lettin’ him slip away again.”  

The words hit Atsumu like a serve to the chest, knocking the wind out of him. He doesn’t respond, but Osamu doesn’t seem to expect him to.  

“I gotta get back to prep,” Osamu says after a moment, his tone shifting back to its usual nonchalance. “Good luck with your court chemistry, or whatever you called it, dumbass.”  

Atsumu huffs a laugh despite himself. “Thanks, ya jerk.”  

The line goes dead, leaving Atsumu alone with his thoughts. He stares at the ceiling for a long time, Osamu’s words replaying in his head.  

What if he does?

It’s a question Atsumu can’t shake, no matter how hard he tries. And he thinks that it might just be the one he’s been avoiding asking all along.

🏐🏐🏐

Things come to a head after they win against the Adlers. 

Atsumu could deal with Kageyama Tobio trying to take up all of Shoyo’s attention before the game (Sakusa will say that he did not handle it well and got incredibly possessive, but that’s just Sakusa’s opinion). And he could deal with the weird, cosmic rivalry happening between the two of them, especially since he got to be on the same side of it as Shoyo, winning together. 

But, what Atsumu apparently can’t deal with, is Bokuto suggesting that Kageyama and Shoyo should date .

The moment the words leave Bokuto’s mouth- casual, playful, and completely oblivious- Atsumu feels like the earth stops spinning. His ears ring. His vision goes red at the edges. Every muscle in his body tenses like he’s about to dive for a ball that isn’t even there.

“What?” Atsumu says, his voice cracking a little, which is most definitely not ideal. He’s aiming for casual and unbothered, but it comes out sounding more like a dying cat. Bokuto, oblivious as ever, just grins and repeats himself.  

“ I said , Kageyama and Hinata should totally date! Don’t you think?” Bokuto beams, like this is a perfectly reasonable statement to make in front of Atsumu, who is currently in the process of combusting.

Shoyo, standing just a little too close to Atsumu, looks up sharply. “What? Why would you say that?”  

Bokuto shrugs, grinning as if he hasn’t just committed an act of emotional warfare. “You guys have all that history , y’know? You’re both so serious about volleyball and work so well together-”

“Oi, Bokkun,” Atsumu cuts him off, his tone sharp enough to draw blood. “Why don’t ya focus on somethin’ else, like not spiking the ball into the bleachers next time we play, yeah?”  

Bokuto blinks at him, clearly confused. “What’s your problem? I’m just saying-”  

“I heard what you were sayin’,” Atsumu snaps, stepping forward in a way that makes Shoyo glance up at him in surprise. “But maybe don’t go makin’ stupid suggestions without thinkin’ about it first, alright?”  

The room goes quiet. Too quiet. Even Sakusa, who had been scrolling on his phone in the corner, looks up with a raised eyebrow.  

Bokuto frowns, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “Geez, you don’t have to get so worked up about it, ‘Tsumu. I didn’t mean anything by it.”  

Atsumu feels Shoyo tug lightly at his sleeve. “Hey,” Shoyo murmurs, his voice soft but enough to cut through the tension. “It’s okay. He’s just joking.”  

Atsumu’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. He glances down at Shoyo, his gaze catching on the faint furrow of his brow, the way his orange hair sticks to his forehead with sweat, the earnest concern in his brown eyes.  

It’s not okay. 

It’s really not okay.  

But Atsumu forces himself to nod, to step back and throw his hands up in mock surrender. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Just jokin’. Whatever.”

The conversation shifts after that, but Atsumu isn’t paying attention anymore. His mind is stuck on Bokuto’s words. On the way Shoyo’s hand lingered on his sleeve a second too long before he let go. On the tightness in his chest that won’t go away no matter how hard he tries to shove it down.

Later, after the team heads out to celebrate their win, Atsumu finds himself walking next to Shoyo, trailing a little behind the others. The air between them feels heavy, like there’s something unsaid hanging between them.  

“You okay?” Shoyo asks suddenly, breaking the silence.  

Atsumu looks down at him, startled. “Huh?”  

Shoyo smiles, but it’s smaller than usual, a little more tentative. “You seemed kind of tense earlier. With Bokuto-san, I mean.”  

Atsumu swallows, looking away. “I’m fine. Just didn’t like what he was sayin’, is all.”  

Shoyo hums thoughtfully. “You mean about me and Kageyama?”  

Atsumu stiffens, but Shoyo keeps talking before he can respond.  

“Because that’s not gonna happen,” Shoyo says, his voice light and matter-of-fact.  

Atsumu blinks, whipping his head around to stare at him. “What?”  

Shoyo shrugs, his expression completely serious. “I mean, I love Kageyama as a former teammate and everything, but date him? No way. That’d be like dating my brother or something,” he says, grinning up at Atsumu, like the thought is absurd.  

Something in Atsumu’s chest loosens, just a little. “Yeah?” he says, trying to keep his voice casual.  

Shoyo nods, his grin widening. “Yeah. Besides…” He hesitates, his steps faltering for a moment before he glances up at Atsumu again. “There’s someone else I like.”  

Atsumu nearly trips over his own feet. His heart is pounding so hard he’s surprised Shoyo can’t hear it. “Oh?” he says, trying desperately to sound normal. “Anyone I know?”  

Shoyo doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he looks ahead, his hands tucked into his pockets, and Atsumu wonders if he’s imagining the faint hint of pink dusting his cheeks.  

“Maybe,” Shoyo says, his voice quiet but certain.

Atsumu’s brain short-circuits. 

He blinks at Shoyo, who keeps walking like he hasn’t just dropped the single most life-altering statement in front of him. Like he hasn’t just sent Atsumu’s heart into full-blown cardiac arrest. 

Atsumu stares at him, waiting for him to elaborate, to crack a joke, to say literally anything else. But Shoyo doesn’t. He just walks beside him, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

And Atsumu… Atsumu can not deal with that. 

“Oi,” he says, voice slightly hoarse. “What do ya mean by maybe?” 

Shoyo glances at him, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I meant what I said,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “Maybe you know him.” 

Atsumu scowls. “That’s a stupidly vague answer.” 

Shoyo laughs, the sound light and teasing. “Maybe I want you to figure it out.” 

Atsumu is about to argue- because why the hell is Shoyo being cryptic now, of all times- but then Shoyo slows to a stop, turning to face him fully. 

There’s something in his expression now, something open and vulnerable, something that makes Atsumu’s breath catch in his throat.

“‘Tsumu,” Shoyo says, and it’s soft. Too soft. Atsumu grips his jacket sleeve before he even realizes what he’s doing, because if he doesn’t hold onto something, he might just float away.

“I know I messed up before,” Shoyo continues, eyes searching Atsumu’s face. “I left. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I did. And I hate that. But I came back. I came back, and I’m here now, and I-” He exhales sharply, shaking his head as if frustrated with himself. “I don’t want to mess it up again.” 

Atsumu’s chest is tight, unbearably so. He swallows, heart pounding in his ears. “Then don’t,” he says, his voice rough. “Don’t mess it up again.” 

Shoyo lets out a breathless little laugh, one that sounds like relief. “Okay,” he says. “I won’t.” 

And then, before Atsumu can even think, before he can second-guess himself or let the fear creep back in-

Shoyo kisses him. 

It’s quick, barely more than a press of lips, like he’s testing the waters. But it’s enough to shatter Atsumu’s entire world. 

Shoyo pulls back slightly, uncertainty flickering across his face. “Is this…” 

Atsumu doesn’t let him finish. He surges forward, catching Shoyo’s face in his hands and kissing him properly. Deeply. Like he’s been waiting for this- for him - for years. 

Because he has. 

Shoyo makes a soft, surprised noise before melting against him, his hands fisting in the front of Atsumu’s jacket like he’s afraid to let go. Atsumu holds him closer, tilting his head, pouring everything he feels into the kiss- every ounce of frustration, longing, relief. 

They break apart, breathless, foreheads pressed together. Shoyo’s eyes are shining, his lips curved into a grin. “So,” he murmurs, “I’m guessing that means you know the guy I like?” 

Atsumu huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Shut up.” 

Shoyo beams at him, and Atsumu knows, without a doubt, that he’s in deep. That he’s always been in deep. 

But maybe that’s okay.

Maybe Atsumu was always meant to love Shoyo.

(The next day, when Atsumu and Shoyo happily announce to their team that they’re dating, Sakusa snorts and says that it took them long enough, Bokuto says that he never saw this coming, since there were no signs that they liked each other, and Sakusa flicks Bokuto on the head for being so dense.)