Chapter Text
It’s almost pathetic how easy it is. All it takes is one “MSBY Black Jackals Reads Hate Comments” video to shatter every wall Atsumu built over his 23 years of life. And those walls shatter quickly.
The whole team wasn’t invited to participate in this special video; instead, only Sakusa, Bokuto, Hinata, and Atsumu are meant to be featured in it. To be clear: Atsumu was never the one to shy away from a spotlight. It’s no secret he’s a major fan-favorite, and the media loves to milk the life out of it, hence why he’s sitting on a very thin and uncomfortable bench in front of a white background holding a stack of notecards. Sakusa looks indifferent to his surroundings and definitely has zero interest in being here, which comes as no surprise to Sakusa. He has no doubt that the currently unmasked man probably argued like hell with his PR manager to get out of this. But, pro athletes are pro athletes, and whether Sakusa likes it or not, being an Olympian put his name out there. The more he presented himself to the media, the more sponsor money would follow.
Bokuto and Hinata probably begged their PR managers to let them do this, Atsumu mentally remarks, watching the two buzz excitedly next to each other while a film crew touches up the mics around them. He’s gotten his hair checked and touched up at least ten times in the last few minutes, and the constant movement around him begins to make him anxious. He turns to Sakusa, wanting to poke fun at him to make the time pass, but his stoic face remains as two makeup artists fumble with his curls.
This is really, really boring. Even more boring than interviews after games where the same tired questions get asked and Atsumu has to switch up his answers every time to try and give the interviewers some content to work with. For his first time ever doing a special edition video like this, it’s sure taking forever for them to get prepped to read some comments from notecards.
Finally, after at least a million sound checks and behind camera work, the director gives the good-to-go and the video starts. Atsumu remembers the briefing they got before — read the comments, laugh, give some silly reply, make fun of each other. Look like a tight-knit team.
The first comment is read by Bokuto, as the order goes from to him to Hinata to Atsumu to Sakusa. He holds the comment up like an elderly person reading from a cellphone and reads aloud: “‘Bokuto Koutaro celebrates like he just won gold at the Olympics every time he spikes a ball. Sit down, birdbrain.’ Well what’s the fun in volleyball if you’re just gonna sit around and mope after hitting a killer spike?” Bokuto looks genuinely puzzled by this.
“I think they think you’re overexcited,” Hinata adds.
“Overexcited’s just a word made up by people who don’t know how to be excited,” Bokuto shrugs, probably planning his next celebration move for scoring a game changing point.
Hinata grabs a card from his stack, reading it in his head then making a scrunched up face before reading it aloud.
“‘Hinata’s personality is just ‘I jump high’ like okay kangaroo let’s calm down’”
“You do jump really high,” Atsumu nods, turning his head to address the camera. “That’s why he’s my spiker, actually, stay jealous.”
It’s Atsumu’s turn now, and he takes a card from his stack to read.
“‘Miya Atsumu’s ego overpowers his stats, like let’s be serious for a minute.’”
“I think your ego matches your stats, Tsumu,” Bokuto says, and Hinata nods along in agreement.
“Whoever wrote this clearly hasn’t seen a Black Jackals game,” Atsumu nonchalantly remarks, adding his token smirk for the camera. “Who says my attitude doesn’t match my sets?”
Bokuto and Hinata back him up with sounds of affirmation and Sakusa acknowledges him with a very discreet eye roll. “You disagree, Omi-omi?”
“I didn’t say anything, did I?”
“Yeah well I felt your judgy energy, plus there was definitely an eye roll in there.”
Sakusa, although his head is turned down as he pulls a card out of his stack, one hundred percent rolls his eyes again.
“‘He looks like he’s judging me but I’m not in the same room.’”
Atsumu snorts. “See, someone agrees with me.”
“That’s a brave decision,” Sakusa murmurs.
“Now you’re judging the commenter, so they were right,” Hinata declares like he just discovered a new animal species. Bokuto matches his energetic proclamation.
It’s Bokuto’s turn again, and this time he reads a comment about his energetic responses in post-game interviews, to which his reply is “I only had three cups of coffee today, so joke’s on you!”
Hinata reads a comment about his “homoerotic relationship” with Kageyama that “really isn’t about volleyball at all” to which he looks around confused while no one assists him in helping to understand. Atsumu only tries not to laugh, mentally reminding himself to go through the comments of this video later to see how everyone takes Hinata’s response.
The turn falls on Atsumu again and he grabs the next notecard from his stack, opening his mouth to read it aloud.
“‘People only like Atsumu for the dramatic volleyball and the smirk. Take that away and what’s left?’”
Atsumu stops.
Take that away and what’s left?
Who the fuck writes stuff like this anyway?
“Yikes, that’s harsh,” Bokuto whistles, oblivious to the color draining from Atsumu’s face.
Atsumu doesn’t want to muster up a reply. The only way he can is to spit something cocky out but apparently if he does that he’s even worse for him. It’s not like comments about his ego or personality are new, not even for this video they’re doing but…
What’s left?
Hinata says something else but Atsumu doesn’t even hear it. His face feels hot and uncomfortable and just wrong. He should be laughing. Why can’t he just laugh it off?
Sakusa looks at him with an unreadable expression and grabs his own notecard before silence gives way and Atsumu would have to say something.
“‘I don’t get why Sakusa gets so much praise. He’s good, sure, but he has zero personality. Barely speaks, barely engages. What’s there to like?’ Well, let’s start with the fact that I’m a volleyball player, not a reality show star.”
“Ooh, I wanna be on a reality show,” Bokuto gasps, Hinata nodding in agreement beside him.
“Loudness isn’t always presence,” Sakusa says, Bokuto and Hinata completely indifferent behind him. “And I’d rather be something genuine than something fake.” Atsumu could swear he sees Sakusa glance to him for a split second, not with the condescending expression he was expecting, but one of…
Well, he couldn’t tell at all. It’s a look that says something, a message for Atsumu and no one else, not the cameras or their teammates or the producers. His stomach is too busy swirling over that stupid comment he can’t get out of his head. What is left? Shouldn’t he know? He should have been able to throw back some quip but he can’t. He just feels sick.
By some Godsend of a miracle, the video isn’t meant to be long and they producers only aimed for a few rounds of card reading before wrapping things up and letting everyone go.
Bokuto and Hinata propose going out for drinks to celebrate their first media segment together, but Atsumu thinks he’ll puke up the first drink he downs. Or, better yet, he should go home and drink himself to sleep to stop himself from all this ridiculous thinking.
He lands on walking to his apartment alone, dropping down onto his bed, and shutting his eyes until he falls asleep.
—
Atsumu has always been good at getting himself not to care about things.
Ever since he was young, he’d figure out what he wanted and go for it. If people liked him? They liked him or they didn’t, so what was the point in getting bothered by it?
Getting into the pro leagues was a whole new world. Sure, Atsumu was no secret in high school, but it didn’t even come close to what it was like having cameras in his face when he was on the court. Interviews, sponsorships, and now apparently media segments, all of which shove Atsumu into the public’s view. And the most notable part of it all — the public’s desire to share their every thought and judgment of him.
Well, it isn’t just him. Atsumu’s been great at ignoring it. It doesn’t need to affect him, so he wouldn’t let it.
But it does. It’s like being watched, but instead of just being watched all the time, people are constantly formulating opinions about him. Some incredibly harsh. Even when Atsumu would hear whispers behind his back in his childhood, it would sting regardless of what he told himself to block it out. The idea of being disliked is a hard pill to swallow, especially when you’re disliked for just being the person you are.
What’s left? Atsumu lays in his bed the morning after going — pretty embarrassingly — straight home after filming. He’d seen his fair share of hate comments but that one sounded like it came from deep inside himself, and that scares him more than any online hater. Atsumu rolls onto his side, trying to sleep or find some motivation to get up, anything but think about this right now.
The easy thing to ignore about hate comments is that most of the time, they aren’t true. The people don’t know you. Or, it’s something so small and irrelevant that you could laugh it off. But this? This one, Atsumu can’t refute. It’s been a day and he still can’t come up with what he could say back, and the cameras stopped rolling a long time ago.
Atsumu is a talented volleyball player. He’s an Olympian at that. He’s not unattractive in the slightest either. He has a twin brother. He has his teammates. But what about him? Who is he, really, outside of the athlete that he’s always been?
Atsumu wants to tell himself he’s being unreasonable. Getting insecure over a hate comment has to be an all time low. But even the thought of hyping himself up or calling Osamu to do it just makes him feel worse. It just feels like lying for some quick relief to feel better about himself so he can be the excelling volleyball player he should be.
Samu knows him, and he’s always stuck around. Okay, they’re twin brothers, but if Atsumu was a worthless asshole he probably wouldn’t have kept so close for this long. Atsumu’s old teammates are still his friends, but why? What about him isn’t a cocky egomaniac?
If that’s all people can see about him, doesn’t that make it all that he is?
So this feeling doesn’t go away with sleep, and it certainly doesn’t go away on the bus ride to the gym complex, and it doesn’t go away when he walks into the locker room where his teammates are all changing into practice gear.
Hinata and Bokuto carry the energy as usual, both of them nagging a tired-looking Inunaki (the sun isn’t even up yet, for crying out loud). Sakusa carries the same brooding, silent energy that Atsumu would’ve usually just gone to nag, but he can’t bring himself to do it. For once, he doesn’t feel the desire to speak a word to anyone.
He’s gone a good hour or so without thinking about the comments, but now that he’s thought of the time that’s passed since then, he thinks of it all again. It’s like a bad dream that lingers throughout the day after, leaving an unsettling feeling like that dream was really real. Only this one isn’t a bad dream, and it’s Atsumu’s life. No matter where he goes, it’ll follow him, because it is him.
Atsumu changes quickly and shakes his head like an etch-a-sketch to clear out the thoughts. He’ll be fine. Once he gets his hands on a volleyball and does what he’s good at, it’ll all go away.
Only it doesn’t.
First, Atsumu thought he was just taking longer to get warmed up. No one sets flawlessly 24/7, that’d be ridiculous. Only his sets just kept missing and missing, some even going so high or far off that it’d be impossible for a spiker to even make contact with the ball. Meian’s the first one to bring it up, the observant captain that he is.
He passes by Atsumu and plants a firm slap on his back, giving him an inquisitive look.
“I know, I know,” Atsumu grumbles.
“We all have our off days,” he nods. “Don’t get too beat up over it. I can see it in your face.”
Atsumu makes a sound of acknowledgement and spins the ball in his head. Damn his captain performing in his role. Missing sets. Sending serves way out of bounds. This isn’t him and he knows it.
As if his practicing isn’t already terrible, Sakusa keeps giving him strange looks, and all it’s doing is piercing holes into Atsumu’s skin. They pass by one another, and Atsumu half-expects Sakusa to say something, but no words are said.
Practice doesn’t get any better, but thankfully, no one else makes any comments about it. Off-days are normal. Tomorrow will be better, Atsumu’s sure of it. He’ll go for a run in the evening when the weather cools down and his body will reset and it’ll be just fine.
Atsumu takes his time in the shower, letting the water run over him, and takes an especially longer time drying off and packing his things. By the time he zips up his bag, the locker room is silent and everyone’s left but him.
Atsumu grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder, only to realize everyone but one other person left. And that person is Sakusa, who is standing in front of him with his arms folded.
“You’re usually first out the door, Omi,” Atsumu pokes. “You forget somethin’?”
“Almost every ball you set to me today was off,” Sakusa says matter-of-factly.
Oh, awesome.
Atsumu rubs the back of his neck. “I’m aware. Meian got to me already, don’t you worry.”
“You have your off days,” Sakusa begins. “But when you’re off or you mess up, you don’t miss by that much.”
“You keeping track?”
“I’ve known your sets since youth camp in high school, Miya. You weren’t even thinking about the ball.”
“So what?” Atsumu retorts. “Whaddya care for?”
“Last time I checked I’m the one who’s hitting the balls.”
“Well don’t get your panties up in a twist, Omi,” Atsumu says. “I’ll send serves so quickly your way tomorrow I might knock both your arms off.”
Sakusa gives him a disbelieving look and moves out of the way, exiting out the opposite door of the locker room without saying goodbye. Words are still left unsaid, Atsumu feels it. But he’s been feeling a lot lately.