Chapter Text
Miya atsumu. A man who once dropped his sandwich on the ground and, after a moment of soul-searching, decided the best course of action was to eat it anyway.
No logical hygienic person would even think of doing something like that, the five second rule was absolutely ridiculous or so kiyoomi thought
Which just proves his point. Miya atsumu wasn’t human or atleast he didn’t think he was, why else would he keep talking to him when he decided to despise his guts?
A normal person would’ve just turned a blind eye on him and carry on about their day when they find that Sakusa kiyoomi did in fact not want to talk to them.
He was a snob and he knew it, he didn’t even try to hide it and apparently miya didn’t care in fact would it be crazy to assume he was into it?
Sakusa always chose to ignore him despite knowing that the latter was talking to him, that should’ve sent a message to the blonde but it didn’t. Instead the blonde smirked that annoying grin of his.
“What’s the matter Omi-kun? Afraid you’ll lose?” The blonde taunted.
“No.” Sakusas eye twitched, he was not about to give miya the satisfaction that he successfully riled him up “and don’t call me that.” People already called him a lot of stuff but that nickname was by far the worst
And like a golden platter was served. Miya’s eyes could only light up even more. Like he suddenly solved world hunger he swore he heard the man whisper. Bingo.
Miya atsumu could definitely do better. It would take more than nicknames to rile him up and so it went on. “Omi-Omi!” This “Omi-kun!” That, he couldn’t even eat properly without having that insufferable blonde pest just blasting that stupid nickname right up in his ear
Komori thinks it’s cute, Sakusa thinks it’s war.
“C’mon kiyo, it’s not that bad! It’s cute even!” Motoya tried to convince him
“He gives nicknames to everyone. He even calls me Mori-kun.” Motoya said pridefully like that was even something to boast about.
“Easy for you to say. He’s not constantly following you around and trying to annoy you ever chance he gets. And it’s like he doesn’t even get tired.” Sakusa complains, wiping his chair before he sits on it.
“Well maybe he just wants to be your friend.” Motoya says, carefully placing both their meals on the table
Sakusa scoffs “I call bullshit.” Motoya could only sigh at his cousin as he looked at him, nothing and no one could change his mind and opinion about miya atsumu.
Miya atsumu was a brat. An unhygienic annoying brat who just couldn’t shut up.
He never wanted to step foot in the same floor as that man ever again….well maybe aside from playing a match against him. Sakusa hated the fact that his ego wasn’t baseless.
Miya atsumu was a lot of things but untalented was definitely not one of them.
—
“Welcome to the All Japan training camp!” The host says, the place was clean and spotless as he entered the tile floors of the building with Motoya besides him, he wore his mask this time, mostly to shield himself from random people although he did recognize some of them.
He saw kageyama tobio, karasunos setter. Figures. He defeated ushijima which he still didn’t believe, a white haired small boy he’s seen before but has forgotten the name and some others he couldn’t bother naming
Who stood out the most tho is a tall blonde man who he knew was given the title of number one highschool setter in all of Japan. Everyone knew him, he even heard girls from his school fawning over this guy. Unfortunately he did understand the hype, and to what his school mates would quote “tall, charming and handsome” miya checks all the lists, he was a bit skeptical on the charming part though.
The first match was three-on-three, and Sakusa found himself reluctantly paired with Atsumu and Komori. Atsumu, as always, was full of energy, tossing the ball with that irritating smirk plastered on his face. Sakusa couldn’t help but mutter a few critiques under his breath about Atsumu’s tosses—too high, too flashy, not precise enough. Atsumu’s reaction was immediate: a sharp click of the tongue and that trademark fake smile, all sarcasm and amusement.
“Sure thing, Kiyoomi-kun,” Atsumu drawled, voice dripping with mock sweetness, eyes rolling like it was the biggest joke in the world.
Sakusa wanted to snap back, but Komori stepped in, his calm voice cutting through the tension. Despite the fatigue that weighed on him like a heavy cloak, Komori kept the duo from turning the match into a battlefield of passive-aggression.
The game itself was messy. Their movements didn’t sync, their calls overlapped or got lost entirely.
Communication was nonexistent, and their rhythm was off by miles. They stumbled through plays, each trying to compensate for the other’s missteps, but it wasn’t enough.
From across the court, Sakusa caught sight of Kageyama, Hoshiumi, and Chigaya, who were already celebrating with high-fives, their coordination seamless, their confidence infectious. They clicked in a way that made Sakusa grit his teeth not from envy, exactly, but from sheer frustration.
The second set started with the same awkwardness, but slowly, something shifted. Atsumu, surprisingly, dialed down the theatrics, focusing his sets with more precision. Sakusa found himself responding—throwing sharper spikes, calling plays with less sarcasm and more intent. Komori was the steady anchor, grounding their moves.
Their mismatched styles began to mesh. Atsumu’s fast, unpredictable sets pushed Sakusa to react faster, and Sakusa’s sharp attacks gave Atsumu the opportunity to flex his creativity in setting. They started to move as a unit, albeit a reluctant one.
Motoya, watching from the sidelines with a soft smile, leaned over and whispered, “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it, Kiyoomi?”
Sakusa shot him a sidelong glance, lips twitching against his will. Maybe it wasn’t so bad—working together, that is. Just don’t tell miya that.
An hour later their third match was quick. Sakusa’s team surprisingly took the win, mostly because Motoya was on fire, digging out a crucial ball that nearly cost them the match and after that they score two more points.
He managed to dodge both Motoya and Miya when they tried to high-five him, leaving the two of them to just high-five each other instead.
After that match he was exhausted, sore, and thoroughly annoyed at the water dispenser taking its sweet time filling his bottle. Or maybe he was just growing impatient. The sweat made his jersey cling uncomfortably to his skin, and all he wanted was a shower.
He overheard the others talking about girls, Sakusa just rolled his eyes, Typical. They were teenage boys after all.
He heard a familiar voice which he now knows as hoshiumi talk to miya about something Sakusa didn’t even care listening to if it wasn’t for his bottomless water bottle not filling up for some reason
“How about you atsumu-san! What’s your type?” hoshiumi was practically beaming with curiosity while kageyama just stood next to the both of them spaced out, seemingly in his own world.
For once he felt bad for the karasunos setter.
-
“Well…” atsumu took a long moment to think about it, he’s been interested in a lot boys and girls before but his mind seemed almost static
he didn’t particularly have a type but if he had to choose it would be…
His gaze drifted, locking onto Sakusa Kiyoomi.
kiyoomi, at first the man was unmistakably gorgeous like atsumu couldn’t believe a man could be this pretty but unfortunately though the man was practically the epitome of a prickly sea urchin.
“I like ‘em feisty,” Atsumu said with a smirk. “And personality-wise? Cute and clingy.”
That seemed to have earned a scoff from sakusa, so the bastard was listening all along, despite his embarrassment he smirked.
“Funny, Kiyoomi-kun? What’s yer type, then?” That only earned him an eye roll. Sakusa didn’t even bother to respond—deliberately ignoring him as he left. Atsumu’s jaw tightened. Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play it?
There were exactly three things that pissed Miya Atsumu off.
One, people who dared complain about his sets. Two, Osamu’s stupid face, which, unfortunately, he was cursed to see daily. And three, being ignored.
Sakusa Kiyoomi, in all his tall, pretty, infuriating glory, had somehow managed to tick off two out of the three. In record time, no less.
Honestly? That was almost impressive. If Atsumu weren’t busy planning the man’s social downfall, he might’ve clapped.
His brother always told him that he had a talent, a talent for pissing people off without even trying, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. He was determined to make sakusa kiyoomis days here a living hell.
Meanwhile, Hoshiumi just stared at the two of them, dumbfounded, trying to ask Kageyama if he noticed too. only for Karasuno’s setter to respond, unsurprisingly, with a simple, “Huh?”
-
Once sakusa had finally reached his dorm he practically sprinted towards the bathroom, the only time he could possibly relax. He still needed to unpack his stuff but he decided on doing it later in the evening for now he just wanted time alone.
His roommate still hadn’t arrived yet, seeing only one side of the room actually held belongings whilst the other remained empty. He hoped he didn’t have a roommate. At first he thought that he’d be staying in a room with his cousin which would have been tolerable. But then they were told the players were split into pairs at random.
That’s when Sakusa started to panic.
He wasn’t a fan of new people — hell, he didn’t even like people at all. He barely trusted anyone besides his cousin. What if the person he was rooming with didn’t respect boundaries? What if they left their dirty clothes all over the floor? What if they were loud, or nosy, or—
Fuck.
The anxious thoughts evaporated the second he realized how long he’d been underwater. If he hadn’t snapped out of it, he might have drowned.
He spent a good thirty minutes inside the bathroom before he finally decided that drowning was not a good option to escape reality, motoya always called him a drama queen on some occasions he’d deny it but now…he feels he may have been on to something
And apparently, stepping out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist was the worst decision he could’ve made today. because of course of all the possible roommates he could’ve had, it just had to be had to be Miya-fucking-Atsumu.
“The universe just hates me huh, Is this heavens revenge for when I burned motoyas socks?” Is the first thing that came to mind when he sees him.
Miya Atsumu, who was now sitting comfortably on his side of the room, staring at him with his mouth slightly open like he’d just witnessed something out of a fever dream.
Sakusa just stood there awkwardly, blinking. He could feel his face flush with embarrassment, His hand twitched toward the towel, as if that would somehow make it less humiliating. He should’ve checked the damn door. He should’ve never come here in the first place.
Atsumu blinked once. Then twice.
“Uh,” he finally said, eyes not-so-subtly dropping before snapping back up to Sakusa’s face. “Nice timing.”
“Fuck off,” he snapped, glaring at the blond. He hoped the look alone would be enough to shut him up.
It wasn’t. Atsumu only raised an eyebrow, clearly amused
With a frustrated scoff, Sakusa stomped over to his side of the room, snatched up his clothes with far more force than necessary, and practically sprinted back into the bathroom.
The door slammed shut behind him with a loud thud, echoing through the room like a warning shot.
-
“What the fuck?“
Every rational thought fled Atsumu the moment the bathroom door swung close. Finding out Sakusa Kiyoomi was his roommate was one thing but seeing him nearly naked, wrapped in nothing but a towel, was a whole other level.
Atsumu grit his teeth. If he wasn’t such a raging bisexual mess, maybe he’d be jealous of the man’s toned body. Instead, he found himself distracted by the small cluster of moles scattered across Kiyoomi’s skin, making him want to count every single one.
“Yer fuckin’ stupid.” That was probably what his brother would say. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted.
Atsumu, the little shit that he was, had taken it upon himself to start documenting his campaign of chaos. At the top of a crumpled page from his notebook, scrawled in dramatic, underlined handwriting was the titled:
“How to Lose a Roommate in 1 Week: Miya Atsumu Style™”
He giggled to himself, kicking his feet a little as he laid stomach-down on the bed, pen in hand like a teenager which made sense because he was a teenager plotting petty crimes instead of, well… the slow psychological breakdown of Sakusa Kiyoomi.
By the time the bathroom door finally creaked open, Atsumu had already written down four solid strategies, each more obnoxious than the last.
He started small.
Once Sakusa was asleep, Atsumu sprang into action like a man on a mission. First, he set his alarm two hours earlier than usual. Then, for dramatic flair and maximum effectiveness, he set five more, each one needing to be manually turned off. His mother always said he slept like a log, and without ‘Samu around, he could probably snooze through a hurricane. So really, this was just doing himself a favor: helping him wake up early and possibly annoying Sakusa Kiyoomi in the process.
-
“Wake up, Miya.”
A voice, ice-cold and sharp, rang in his ear. He groaned in protest, shifting under the covers and pulling a pillow over his head to block out the morning sun.
“Five more minutes, ‘Samu,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
His request was met with a sharp smack to the back of his head.
“OW! What the fuck, Sam—” He froze mid-sentence, eyes snapping open only to find Sakusa glaring down at him, arms crossed, while his phone’s alarm blared obnoxiously in the background.
He froze at the sight of Sakusa—hair messier than usual, face puffy, eyes red. If he were in his right mind, he might’ve even called him a bit cu— No. Absolutely not,
“Care to explain yourself?” Sakusa glared at him and frowned, suddenly atsumu felt like a child again, a child that just broke his mother’s favorite makeup kit and was now being questioned under a single kitchen light bulb.
“Explain what, Omi-kun?” He said cheerfully despite his morning voice being a bit hoarse, he knew exactly how to play dumb and sakusa was not amused one bit.
“Your alarm.” Sakusa exhaled through gritted teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. Atsumu had to fight the grin tugging at his lips, he was used to seeing sakusa mildy annoyed at everything but seeing him now just annoyed-annoyed at him was more entertaining than any soap opera their mother forced them to watch.
“Well…this is the time I usually wake myself up y’know omi-kun” That was a complete lie. He never woke up this early. Hell, he rarely woke himself up at all.
Sakusa’s eye twitched.
“At. Four. Fucking. Am? Miya.” Sakusa spoke like each word practically pained him to say.
“What can I say, Omi? I’m just a natural early bird,” Atsumu smirked, like he wasn’t seconds away from turning the alarm off and going straight back to sleep, the sun wasn’t even visible yet for fucks sake
—speaking of alarm he noticed that his alarm was casually still blaring and turned it off.
“Training starts at eight a.m., Miya,” Sakusa said, voice flat but sharp enough to cut. “Eight fucking a.m.” he repeated, slower this time, like Atsumu hadn’t just heard him the first time—or like saying it twice might physically cause less suffering.
Atsumu stretched lazily, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Well, four hours to get ready, rig—?”
Thwump.
He didn’t even finish the sentence before a pillow came flying at his face, fast and accurate, smacking him dead center.
Sakusa was already walking back to his bed, not sparing him a glance. No words. No remorse. Just ruthless efficiency.
Atsumu sat there, stunned, the pillow sliding down into his lap. For a damn pillow, that shit hurt.
“RUDE!” he yelled after him, loud and dramatic enough to echo in the room.
No answer.
He rubbed his face with a scowl, shooting a glare in Sakusa’s direction—only to see him pulling the covers back over himself like nothing had happened. Still…He couldn’t help it.
As much as it annoyed him, he was kind of impressed. Sakusa’s aim was terrifyingly good for someone who looked like he’d been dragged out of bed by a vengeful spirit.
He just smirked and flopped back down, letting his head sink into the mattress. First plan worked. he’d be happier if it wasn’t for his eyes growing heavier before his thoughts could even catch up
-
“Early bird my ass,” Sakusa manages to grumble, checking his phone. 6:30 a.m. Great. His eyes are still adjusting to the light bleeding in through the cracks in the curtains, From the corner of his left eye, he can clearly see that Atsumu is still dead asleep, snoring like he’s trying to win some kind of competition.
Just about two hours ago, he’d already come dangerously close to murdering Miya Atsumu. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to strangle the man on the spot.
Day one of camp, and he was already at his limit. If switching roommates wasn’t an option, the rest of the week was going to be a disaster.
He decides the only possible way he can get out of this situation is his cousin.
[6:32 am]
[Kiyoomi]
Toya, I’m not joking right now. I need to you to switch rooms with me. I don’t care who your roommate is.
[Noise pollution]
What? Did something happen kiyo?
[Kiyoomi]
I can’t spend another moment with him toya, you don’t understand. Im so close to strangling this man
[Noise pollution]
But dramatic here aren’t we now kiyo, he can’t be that bad, who’s your roommate anyways?
[Kiyoomi]
Miya.
[Noise pollution]
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAJAJA
Sakusa could only sigh. He had voiced his frustrations about Miya Atsumu to Komori more times than he could count, and like the useless cousin that he was, Komori only ever laughed and teased him “you sure you don’t just have a crush on him kiyo?”
[you have blocked this user]
Sakusa Kiyoomi was an arguably clean person, it was up to no debate really but if Miya wanted to play dirty, he could play dirty.
What he was about to do was stupid. downright stupid. He was supposed to be the mature one, yet he acted like nothing mattered. Sakusa pushed himself up in bed and walked quietly towards his nightstand where his bag was neatly placed on his chair. glancing up at Miya every few inches to see if he was awake. Not that he was really worried. Miya had slept through four fucking alarms.
He shuffled through the pockets of his bag quietly before he finally grabs what he was reaching for, a marker. A permanent one.