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“Just ask him out tomorrow, and if he says no, tell him it was an April Fools’ joke.”
- A tipsy Miya Osamu when Miya Atsumu came to him for relationship advice.
Oikawa Tooru, naturalised Argentinian citizen and starting setter of the national volleyball team, had decided to visit his good friend Hinata Shouyou at the MSBY Black Jackals’ gym on one of the days he'd be back in his native country during his off-season break. This was no surprise to Atsumu, who actually already knew about it three days in advance thanks to his habit of following Oikawa’s Instagram story updates religiously (an old selfie of Oikawa and Hinata at a beach in Brazil, accompanied by the caption ‘3 more days! Can't wait to see you, Shouyou! 💗💖’)— which by right should have given him ample time to prepare (and hype himself up) for what he's about to do. Should have.
Now, on the day of Oikawa’s visit, Atsumu repeats his brother's advice from the day before in his head like a mantra. Practice had already concluded but he still hasn't left because he hasn't yet accomplished what he’d set out to do.
Okay, keep it cool. Approach him confidently, it can't be that hard- FUCK WHY IS THIS SO HARD-
He frantically wipes away the beads of sweat that had gathered on his brow ridge with the back of his hand and takes in a slow, deep, breath. Come on Atsumu, you can do this. You're hot, you have a nice voice, even nicer thighs, and hundreds of thousands of fans from all over Japan and even some from beyond. Just act natural, this isn't even the first time you're asking someone out.
He takes the step forward to where Oikawa is seated cross-legged on the floor while scrolling mindlessly on his phone, probably waiting for Shouyou to be done with his shower. They're the only ones left in the gymnasium now.
“Uh, Oikawa-san?” He begins, quietly. His voice barely over a whisper. Shit, he forgot to fix his hair before approaching him. Luckily Oikawa-senshu hasn't turned around yet, if he even heard him at all. It's probably sticking to his forehead in a way that makes him look greasy instead of hot. Is there anything stuck in his teeth? Oh no, the faded dark yellow shirt he’s wearing is definitely not doing wonders to his complexion. Is it too late to back out? And hopefully Oikawa-senshu doesn’t notice how much his hands are trembling. He suddenly feels the urge to pick at his cuticles which hasn't happened since he’d gotten hooked to playing setter-
Before he can spiral further and make a fool out of himself, Atsumu wills himself to calm down before he actually embarrasses himself in front of the one person he really doesn't want to look stupid to right now, which, he finds, is way harder than it ought to be. Okay. Everything is okay. He can still salvage this. What did Osamu say again?
‘Just ask him out’, like it's so straightforward and simple.
Okay then, well here goes nothing.
“Hey, Oikawa-san!” He tries to inject some cheeriness into his voice.
He only gets a hum in response. Seems like Oikawa isn't really paying attention to him.
Fuck it. If there's one thing that Miya Atsumu hates on the same level as he despises losing, it's being ignored.
“Would you like to go out with me? Like, do you wanna be my boyfriend?” He all but shrieks.
Way to go from zero to one hundred. But hey, at least he didn't stutter.
That certainly caught Oikawa’s attention though. Oikawa whips around at lightning speed and stares at him with an expression that closely resembles a fish out of water. Mouth gaped, eyes blown wide, facial muscles twitching ever so slightly. (Speaking of, Atsumu’s pretty sure that there's a species of freshwater fish that coincidentally shares the name ‘Oikawa’) Even with such an unflattering expression on his face, Oikawa somehow still manages to look effortlessly beautiful, as always. Natural slight waves (Atsumu has to style his with a curling iron every morning), smooth skin (Atsumu has to lather his face with twenty thousand yen’s worth of skincare products twice a day— mostly anti-aging products because he's vain like that— and he still doesn't glow), and an impressively muscular frame (actually, Atsumu is quite confident that he wins with his lower body— come on, have you seen his thighs?!). Atsumu imagines that in an alternate universe where volleyball doesn't exist (a universe he would rather die than live in, even if you offer him a million dollars), Oikawa would certainly be a top model that you constantly see on billboards and stars on the front pages of high-end fashion magazines.
Listen, Atsumu wouldn't even be ashamed to admit that when it comes to physical appearance, Oikawa might have him beat. Very, very slightly, though. And that's still saying a lot, considering how everyone knows that Atsumu knows that he's hot as hell.
(But of course, when it comes to personality, Atsumu is a hundred percent convinced that his own personality is the best he knows.)
(Okay. He's heard the criticism and he's well aware that maaaaybe others don't find it particularly attractive, but confidence is key, right?)
Anyway, after what feels like forever (it's been three seconds), with still no response from Oikawa Tooru, CA San Juan and Argentinian National team setter, Atsumu readies himself to move on to Phase 2.
‘…tell him it was an April Fools’ joke.’
“Uh, Ap-” He manages to choke out, until he finds himself cut off by a beaming smile. Holy shit that might just be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. He's only ever seen that radiant smile on Oikawa's face when he's talking to Iwaizumi the athletic trainer. And even then he's never seen it up-close. He briefly wonders how Oikawa likes his eggs in the morning. Sunny side up, scrambled, or omelette? With butter or with oil? Milk? No milk? With what seasonings? Smooth? Creamy? My place or yours?
“Sure! How does tomorrow after practice sound?” Oikawa chirps, still with that million-watt smile on his face. Atsumu likes his eggs scrambled, because it's the only way he knows how to make them, because he doesn't need to worry about breaking the yolk or not shaping the omelette right. (It's just eggs, anyway. It's just protein.) But he's willing to learn if it means he gets to wake up to this sight every morning.
“Wait what? Really??” he hears himself blurting out without a second thought.
Later, just less than two hours before closing time at Onigiri Miya, Atsumu rambles, might even have gushed to his twin about his very fulfilling day of…volleyball practice.
“Can you believe it, Samu? World famous athlete Oikawa-senshu really agreed to go on a date with me! We're like, totally boyfriends now!” He squeals, waving his arms around madly in front of an unenthusiastic Osamu. He doesn't even care how stupid he looks in front of the other patrons because he knows that the only other customers that come around this time are the regulars, those who are used to Atsumu’s sporadic appearances. Hell, they probably know more about Atsumu’s personal life than his actual fans at this point.
“And it's the perfect time for us to get to know each other too, since Oikawa-senshu will be in Japan for the next month or so! Ain't that great?!” He stops his rapid hand gestures as he concludes his ramble.
But then of course, in the midst of his joy and celebration, that mood-killer twin of his just had to open his mouth.
“Hey, Tsumu? Could it be possible that Oikawa thought you weren’t bein’ serious? Maybe confessing on the first of April was the wrong move. We really didn't think this through, did we?”
Atsumu decided that Osamu’s words didn't concern him as soon as he heard the word ‘maybe’ come out of his mouth.
There are no ‘maybe’s with Miya Atsumu. It's either do or die; all or nothing. That aside, if Atsumu actually cared for it, he would find that Osamu’s concern was actually rather reasonable. After all, ever since they met, Atsumu hasn't exactly been the most friendly to Oikawa. In fact, come to think of it, he's pretty sure that a good ninety percent of their interactions were just them exchanging ‘Huh!?’-s and middle fingers with each other. Atsumu had the impression that they had been flirting— showing aggression happens to be Atsumu’s way of expressing affection, but that doesn't mean Oikawa felt the same way about it.
What the fuck, Samu? You're the one that gave me that shitty advice in the first place. Don't you dare gimme this crap now!
‘nd besides, naaahh, there's no way. Oikawa-san couldn't possibly…Besides— He prolly gets asked out like, multiple times a day. Surely he's been confessed to on April first before, I can't have been the only one…
He gets annoyed by the mere thought of there being others before himself.
…Yeah stop bein’ stupid, Samu, I know what I’m doin’. Can'tcha just be happy for me for once? You're just jealous that I scored a date while you still haven't made a move on- OW! Oh my god, okay! I’m leavin’, ’m leavin’! Just stop tuggin’ on my hair before you actually rip somethin’ out-
“...Akaashi-kun, y’think he's gonna be okay?”
The man in question diverts his attention from his fifth and final rice ball of the evening to the chef from his usual spot at Onigiri Miya— a counter seat at the opposite side of Atsumu where he had been listening (definitely not eavesdropping) to the twins’ exchange, a blindspot to where Atsumu was seated at just moments prior, and sets his glasses down on the table gingerly.
“You worry too much, Myaa-sam.” Akaashi comments without elaborating, kind of ominous,— in true weird Akaashi fashion— as he promptly scarfs the rest of his onigiri down.
Was Miya messing with him right now? Or was he missing something? Because why the fuck is the man he was sure hated him with a burning passion suddenly asking him out???
Oikawa can't seem to recall a single instance where the two of them had a one-on-one conversation, or any conversation at all that didn't end in angry glares and shouting.
There has to be a reason, or some kind of explanation for this. Oikawa racks his brain for answers.
…
Oh, that's right! Kansai people like cracking jokes, don't they? Manzai, stand-up, all that. That must be what this is— some kind of comedy routine. It is April Fools’ today.
(Confessing as a prank is a little rude. Hurtful, even, but whatever. It's not like Oikawa hasn't broken his fair share of hearts— although most of them had been on accident— either.)
As a lover of comedy himself, Oikawa decides that he should just play along with whatever this is. And, assuming they actually go through with the date, he might be able to piss Tobio off by going out with one of his rival setters, which is always a plus.
The first date went well. Too well, in fact. One rom-com and an expensive candlelit dinner later, Oikawa found himself being sent back to his hotel with a kiss on the cheek and a gleeful promise for a next date. They had even exchanged contact information!
Isn't that going a bit too far for a one-off joke?
“Samu, he's just so perfect!” Atsumu exclaims for the hundredth time that evening. He's so engrossed with retelling every single detail of their most recent date— to the aquarium! They had an aquarium date! That basically seals the deal that they're getting married!— that he doesn't even notice how Osamu hasn't responded to him for over five minutes.
Not that Atsumu cares whether he responds or not. He's here to ramble. He rabbits on, “When do you think is the appropriate time for our first kiss? D'ya think next week’ll be okay? ’m plannin’ to take him out on a picnic at the beach, would that be enough of a romantic atmosphere? Or should I try somewhere indoors instead?”
When is he going to say it was an April Fools’ joke? It's been nearly a month, and Oikawa is starting to get concerned. They’ve already held hands, shared food, even kissed! What more does Miya want out of this?
But even though Oikawa initially accepted the confession without taking it seriously, he would confess that he might be starting to grow fond of Miya. It's the way his eyes crinkle whenever he smiles, the way the sun lights up the brown of his irises making them look golden, the way his voice always highers in pitch just slightly when he speaks to Oikawa like he can't hide his joy whenever he’s talking to him, or the way he absentmindedly swings their arms back and forth whenever they intertwine fingers which is so endearing and-
It's the way Miya Atsumu feels so genuine.
He’s genuine in the way he plays volleyball, because he has already given it his all. He's also genuine in the way that Oikawa knows that he would drop everything for his significant other in a heartbeat if they just asked.
(Oikawa doesn't understand why a person like that would do something as disingenuous as confessing his non-existent feelings for him. Unless he was being sincere, and that it being on April Fools’ was just a coincidence, which is just plain ridiculous.)
This all doesn't matter anyways because Oikawa Tooru will not be falling for a man that only went out with him for his very-not-funny April Fools’ joke.
So why?
…
Oh I know what this is.
(Is he in denial or just confidently wrong?)
He must be too stubborn to call it quits by now.
(Oikawa isn't going to admit that it might also be his fault for agreeing to every single one of Miya’s promises for a-
‘-next date, I’ll pick you up from your hotel!’)
That's okay. I don't mind playing a game of gay chicken.
Another day has passed and—
Oikawa is starting to think this isn't a joke anymore.
Miya said the three magic words today. Surely that's going way too far, right? You don't tell someone you asked out as a joke that you love them. Surely this has to stop.
But when he talked to Iwaizumi about it, all he had gotten was a ‘Just break up with him if you're so unhappy, Shittykawa!’ and a harsh slap to the back of his head.
But he's not unhappy, so he won't break up with Miya. He can keep going with this!
“Samu, I think he might really be the one!”
Even after Tooru left for Argentina, the two of them continued to keep in contact. Their relationship had continued to go strong, even with the oceans and continents between them, and not to mention the time difference. It's now been six years since his confession in April and Atsumu thinks he's ready to proceed to the next step.
“The next time he visits, I think it's finally time to put a ring on his finger.”
It's official. Oikawa was fooled. It was never a joke in the first place. Luckily Oikawa ended up falling for him too, in the end. Unless Atsumu was really willing to get married to keep a six year long joke alive.
(Which is just plain crazy, but Oikawa can respect that.)
How could he have been so stupid?! April Fools’ Day isn't even a real holiday. Of course Atsumu was being for real from the beginning!
“Hey, Tooru? Can I tell you something?”
Miya Atsumu, retired volleyball star, sits across the dining table from the also retired, even-more-popular volleyball athlete, Miya Tooru (more commonly known as Oikawa Tooru). Like every morning, they go for their morning runs before returning home to have breakfast together before they head off to their respective plans for the day. There's a slight glint in his eyes, like he's telling some sort of inside joke.
Tooru swallows the piece of omelette Atsumu made earlier that he had been chewing before he answers, “Yes, dear, what is it?” Atsumu’s excitement has always been contagious; Tooru is dying to know what he has to say that's got him so worked up.
Atsumu doesn't even hesitate to begin his speech and he leans back in his chair, closes his eyes. “Soo…remember how I confessed to you on April Fools’ Day?” Wait what. I thought he wasn't aware of that! Does that mean that our entire relationship was a lie after all?
Atsumu continues speaking, unaware of the turmoil in Tooru’s head.
A light chuckle. “Well that was because Samu had the ingenious idea that I could just brush it off as a joke if I got rejected. To save me the embarrassment, he said.” Wait. Pause???
“And I was so ready to do just that because I thought for sure you were gonna reject me, but then thankfully you didn't!” Are you fucking kidding me.
So it was intentional after all? Just not for the reasons he’d assumed. Shit, they're both idiots. Atsumu can't see it since he has his eyes shut, but Tooru has got an utterly dumbfounded expression on his face.
“Oh thankfully you did.” Tooru finally wheezes, referring to his husband’s cowardly confession.