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People have different ways of meeting, of knowing each other, of starting relationships, so despite how weird the whole concept of online dating sounds, Atsumu honestly doesn’t care.
Even if he doesn’t actually know much about the person he calls his boyfriend.
Atsumu doesn’t care about that either.
All he really knows is his alias, that he’s a first-year high schooler, and that he plays volleyball too—specifically as a middle blocker.
And somehow, that’s enough.
Their whole relationship traces back to the beginning of Atsumu’s second year of high school, when he randomly posted a tweet complaining about some volleyball play he thought sucked on the anonymous account he only used for volleyball stuff.
Then someone quote retweeted him.
Tsumu, @minusone:
that set was ass
A few minutes later, someone quote retweets it.
Shou, @hinotori_:
maybe because the blockers were literally in his face???
Atsumu stares at the tweet for a moment before snorting quietly to himself.
Then he replies.
Tsumu, @minusone:
skill issue
And somehow, that’s how it starts.
Somehow, that turns into them arguing underneath each other’s posts almost every single day.
At first it’s just volleyball.
Complaining about bad receives. Arguing over setters. Live reacting to matches neither of them are even involved in. Atsumu learns quickly that Shou has a habit of typing like every volleyball play personally affects him emotionally.
Then somehow the arguments become conversations.
Conversations become late-night DMs.
And late-night DMs become hour-long calls stretching way past midnight.
It starts normal enough—Atsumu talking about practice, Shouyou rambling about something Kageyama did that made no sense again, both of them speaking over each other in that easy way they’ve fallen into without realising.
On Atsumu’s side, he’s lying on his bunk, Osamu on the top bunk either scrolling his phone or already half-asleep. The kind of background presence that’s always there but never really involved.
On Shouyou’s side, it’s quieter. Just the soft rustle of his blanket, the faint creak of his bed when he shifts. The kind of small sounds that fill the silence between words.
And then—
it gradually goes quiet.
Like the conversation runs out without either of them noticing.
Shouyou stops talking mid-sentence. Atsumu doesn’t interrupt.
Just breathing.
Then Atsumu frowns slightly, staring at his phone.
“…you there?”
And on the other end, Shouyou lets out a small sound, like he just blinked back into the call.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “I’m here.”
Atsumu relaxes a little like that was all he needed.
“Thought ya fell asleep,” he mutters.
“I almost did,” Shouyou admits, voice warm with sleep.
And somehow, that becomes normal.
Atsumu learns that Shou laughs loudly at his own jokes, gets distracted halfway through stories, and somehow always ends up talking about volleyball anyway no matter what they start discussing.
Shouyou learns Tsumu gets weirdly quiet whenever he’s upset, skips meals when he’s stressed, and sounds softer late at night when he’s half-asleep.
Neither of them notices exactly when things stop being casual.
Maybe it’s during one of those 1:07 a.m. calls.
Maybe it’s when Atsumu starts looking for Shou’s notifications first every morning.
Maybe it’s when “goodnight” slowly turns into “stay a little longer.”
Or maybe it’s when Atsumu realises he’s smiling at his phone so much Osamu starts calling him disgusting.
Either way, by the time Atsumu blurts out—
Tsumu
think im kinda in love with ya
seen 1:07 a.m.
For almost a whole minute, Shou doesn’t reply. Atsumu spends every single second of it regretting his entire existence.
Then finally—
Shou
oh thank god 😭
i thought i was being insane alone
Atsumu immediately bursts out laughing loud enough for Osamu to yell at him from the top bunk to shut the fuck up.
After that, things somehow become even worse.
Or better.
Depends on who you ask.
Because now Atsumu has a boyfriend he’s never actually met before.
A boyfriend who lives somewhere far away, only calls him after practice, and falls asleep halfway through conversations sometimes.
A boyfriend who sends him blurry food pictures, voice messages full of excited rambling, and random updates throughout the day like—
Shou
THIS DOG LOOKS LIKE TANAKA-SENPAI
And Atsumu hates how fond he’s become over someone he technically barely knows.
Osamu thinks the whole thing is weird as hell.
Atsumu thinks Osamu should mind his own business.
For the next few months, nothing really changes.
Late-night calls. Volleyball arguments. Random voice messages during practice breaks. Atsumu is still in Hyougo, Shouyou is still in Miyagi, and both of them pretend they’re normal about the fact they’re dating someone they’ve never met in real life.
Then Spring High comes.
Karasuno wins the preliminaries.
And suddenly, everything starts moving too fast.
For Shouyou, it’s his first national tournament.
The first time he steps into a venue this big, this loud, this full of people who are all just as strong as him.
The gym feels overwhelming in a way no practice match ever did. Every court is packed with monsters in different uniforms, and even the air feels different here—heavier, sharper, like it’s holding its breath.
And somewhere in this building—
his boyfriend is here too.
Shouyou doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about that yet.
Excited, maybe.
Nervous, definitely.
But there’s something else too—something quieter that keeps pressing at the back of his mind every time he checks his phone.
Tsumu hasn’t replied much since yesterday.
Just short messages. Nothing like his usual voice notes or dumb commentary about volleyball plays.
Shouyou keeps telling himself it’s nothing.
Probably just pre-match focus.
Probably just sleep.
Probably.
After Shouyou’s first match, Karasuno wins. It’s messy and loud and way more intense than it has any right to be, but they still manage to pull through. When he finally gets his phone back, the first thing he sees is Tsumu’s tweet.
Tsumu, @minusone:
first match tomorrow 🔥
Shouyou stares at it for a moment before replying almost immediately.
Shou, @hinotori_:
good luck! kick their ass!!
He doesn’t really expect a response, but his boyfriend always replies anyway, and that small comfort sits at the back of his mind even as everything else at Spring High starts moving too fast.
The next day, he doesn’t think about it too much. Not when they enter the arena, not when the noise swallows everything whole, not even when Inarizaki steps onto the court opposite them. The Inarizaki setter—Miya Atsumu—looks normal, focused like any other setter he’s ever faced, and Shouyou tells himself it doesn’t matter, that this is just another match.
Across the net, Atsumu tells himself the same thing.
Just another middle blocker.
Just another opponent.
Nothing special.
But then it starts.
At first, nothing feels different. It’s just volleyball, just rallies and movement and instinct. Until Shouyou jumps, lands, grinning too wide like he always does when something works, and calls out to Kageyama.
“Give me the next one too.”
He laughs when he says it, half breathless, completely himself.
And Atsumu freezes.
Just for a second. Not long enough for anyone else to notice, but enough.
Atsumu has known Shou for eight months, two weeks, and four days.
He knows Shou loves One Piece, often falls asleep during class, and goes quiet when he's upset.
He knows the sound of Shou laughing half-asleep at 1:07 a.m.
What he doesn't know is why the short orange-haired middle blocker on the other side of the net sounds exactly like him.
Something in Atsumu shifts after that.
Not loud. Not obvious. Just… intent.
He starts watching more closely. Reading every movement a little too carefully, like he’s trying to solve something he can’t name yet.
And then he does it.
Atsumu calls for a quick.
Not his own idea of it.
Not something new.
A perfect copy of Hinata and Kageyama’s freak quick.
Fast. Clean. Almost disrespectfully accurate.
It lands.
For a moment, the gym feels wrong—like something impossible just got proven in front of everyone.
Shouyou freezes.
Not fully. Not visibly. But something in his chest tightens sharply, like his body recognised it before his mind could explain why.
That timing. That speed. That feeling.
Across the net, Atsumu is watching him.
Not the scoreboard.
Not the play.
Him.
Like he’s waiting for something only Shouyou is supposed to understand.
Like he’s saying I see you without speaking a single word.
Shouyou pushes it aside. There’s no time to think. The match doesn’t stop, so neither does he.
But Atsumu doesn’t stop either.
He plays sharper after that. More deliberate. Every set feels like it’s aimed at something unseen.
A message.
And Shouyou doesn’t understand it yet.
Until the match ends.
And suddenly every strange, familiar thing slots into place all at once.
The voice.
The phrases.
The awful sleep schedule.
1:07 a.m. calls.
you there?
Shou.
Hinata Shouyou.
Tsumu.
Miya Atsumu.
Across the court, both of them stare at each other like they’re seeing each other for the first time.
Oh.
Oh, shit.
Karasuno spends the next few hours getting dragged from one thing to another—post-match interviews, dinner, tomorrow’s strategy meeting against Nekoma. Everyone’s excited for it, loud about it, already arguing over who receives and blocks and who’s going to match up against who tomorrow.
Shouyou tries to keep up.
Really.
But every few minutes, his eyes drift back down to his phone.
No replies.
Not even seen.
He texted Atsumu almost immediately after the match ended.
Shou
hey
you okay?
Nothing.
And somehow, the silence starts feeling worse the later it gets.
By the time the meeting finally ends, it’s already past ten at night. Shouyou barely remembers anything Coach Ukai said, only vaguely aware that tomorrow they’ll finally be facing Nekoma.
His phone vibrates just as he’s about to enter his room.
His heart nearly stops.
Tsumu
wanna meet?
seen 10:07 p.m.
Although it’s late, they both manage to sneak out anyway. The convenience store they agree to meet at is somewhere between both of their inns.
When Shouyou gets there, Atsumu is already sitting outside in front of the store under the harsh white lights, one leg bouncing nervously beside the small plastic table.
“Hey.”
Atsumu immediately looks up at him. “Hey.”
Shouyou sits down across from him, and for a moment neither of them really knows what to say.
“Congrats for winnin’,” Atsumu says eventually.
“Thanks.”
Silence settles between them for a moment before Atsumu suddenly exhales harshly, dragging a hand down his face.
“I’m so fuckin’ lame.”
Shouyou blinks. “What?”
Atsumu looks at him then, expression softer than usual. “Ya played great today. What a killer jump,” he says before pausing. “Though now I know why yer so sensitive every time I ask about yer height.”
Shouyou immediately reddens. “You were really amazing too, Tsum— Atsumu-san! You even copied the quick.”
Atsumu snorts quietly. “Well, yeah. That was fuckin’ fun.”
Another silence falls between them, though this one feels strangely lighter.
“I never expected we’d meet like this,” Atsumu admits quietly.
“Me too.”
Then, before Shouyou can stop himself, he asks, “Do you hate it?”
Atsumu looks genuinely startled. “No. Why would I?”
Shouyou shrinks a little into himself anyway, and Atsumu sighs before leaning back in his chair.
“I finally got to meet my boyfriend after months,” he says. “I’d thank God for every single step I took here from the inn.”
Shouyou laughs softly. “That must’ve been hundreds.”
Atsumu smirks. “Thousands, even.”
Atsumu exhales, staring up for a moment at the empty sky above the convenience store lights.
“Y’know… I didn’t wanna meet like this,” he says finally. “Not ‘cause of ya. Just… I didn’t want it to be ‘cause I’m Miya Atsumu.”
Shouyou doesn’t say anything, so he continues.
“People don’t really stick around me for me. It’s always the setter, or the Miya twin, or whatever I’m supposed to be on court.” He clicks his tongue lightly. “I just… wanted someone who wouldn’t already have a version of me in their head before we even talk.”
Shouyou stares at him for a moment, then quietly admits, “I was scared too.”
Atsumu glances at him.
“I’m… not really anything special,” Shouyou says, fidgeting with his hands. “I’m just—small. And loud. And I mess up a lot.” He laughs a little, embarrassed. “And I thought if you saw me properly, you’d realise I’m not actually… good enough.”
Atsumu goes quiet for a second.
Then, almost immediately, “That’s stupid.”
Shouyou blinks.
Atsumu points at him like it’s obvious. “Ya jumped like yer trying to hit the sky itself. If that’s ‘not good enough’ then what the hell am I supposed to be?”
Shouyou turns red instantly. “That’s not what I meant—”
“I know,” Atsumu cuts in, softer now. “But still.”
A pause.
Then, a little quieter. “…and stop acting like yer not good at volleyball. That’s insulting.”
Shouyou laughs despite himself, small and breathless.
By now, the night has gone quiet around them. The roads are mostly empty, only the occasional car passing by every now and then.
“It’s late,” Shouyou says eventually.
“Right. Wanna head back?”
“Think so.”
They both stand up, but neither of them leaves immediately.
“Good luck tomorrow,” Atsumu says after a moment.
“Thanks, Atsumu-san! Make sure you watch!”
Atsumu grins a little. “I’ll definitely come watch, Shouyou-kun.”
Not long after, they finally part ways, both leaving with red ears and faces warm enough to rival Tokyo in summer.
Although they lost yesterday, Inarizaki didn't go home right away, so that’s why Osamu is here watching Karasuno vs. Kamomedai match with his twin—who practically begged him to come watch it.
Atsumu is the same as usual, watching intently, making comments about plays under his breath. Nothing strange. Nothing unusual.
But—
Osamu feels something shift beside him when Karasuno’s short middle blocker suddenly drops to the ground.
He glances at his brother.
Atsumu’s gone tense.
His whole body freezes, eyes locked on the court.
It’s not until the middle blocker is finally escorted off the court that Atsumu moves at all—suddenly turning and running for the stairs leading down from the second-floor stands.
Osamu barely has time to yell after him.
“Where are ya going?”
Atsumu answers without looking back, loud enough to echo through the hallway.
“My boyfriend is sick!”
For a moment, Osamu just stands there.
Boyfriend.
Since when did Karasuno’s middle blocker become his brother’s boyfr—
And then he remembers.
Shou.
The online boyfriend.
The “he plays volleyball too” boyfriend.
The “trust me, ’Samu, he’s real” boyfriend.
Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding him.
“When are ya finally gonna drop it and tell me who yer actually datin’?”
Atsumu only glances at him before looking back down at his phone. “Just mind yer business.”
Osamu is suspicious, but he lets it go for the time being.
Weeks later, he accidentally catches a notification lighting up Atsumu’s phone one night after dinner.
“’Tsumu.”
His brother doesn’t even bother answering.
“Who’s Shou?”
Atsumu immediately sounds annoyed. “Didja look at my phone?”
“It ain’t lookin’ if I accidentally saw it.” He pauses before continuing. “So this the one yer datin’?”
Atsumu goes quiet.
“’Tsumu, I’m askin’ here. Where did ya even meet them? And why don’t I know who this person is?”
Still quiet.
“’Tsumu, don’t tell me ya—”
“Toldja to just mind yer fucking business.”
“’Tsumu.”
Atsumu finally exhales through his nose. “Met him online.”
For a moment, neither of them says anything.
“So ya haven’t even met him?”
Atsumu doesn’t answer.
“’Tsumu,” Osamu says slowly, staring at his brother seriously, “y’know this is fuckin’ dangerous.”
“He’s not dangerous.”
“And how’re ya so sure about that? Ya haven’t even met him. Bet he didn’t even give ya his real name.”
Atsumu stays quiet because he knows it’s true.
“I didn’t give him my real name either,” he mutters. “So it’s fine.”
“It’s still not fine.”
“Whatever,” Atsumu says. “I ain’t breakin’ this off.”
Osamu tries convincing him several more times after that, but his brother is too fucking stubborn to listen. So eventually, he switches strategies—mocking him.
“Didja really fail that bad at datin’ in real life?”
“Yer practically datin’ a stranger, y’know. Weird as fuck.”
“Yer so lame. Like there ain’t any other humans left on earth.”
And every single time, Atsumu only ever answers with—
“Fuck off, ’Samu.”
God, his brother is so fucking stubborn.
Osamu’s genuinely worried he’s dating some random stranger online. How can Atsumu be so sure the other person is really a year younger than him and also plays volleyball? For all he knows, the guy could be lying.
But now—
Osamu realises that maybe his brother isn’t exactly wrong after all.
He looks at this so-called boyfriend lying down weakly on the bed as he comes to pick Atsumu up from the inn where Karasuno is staying.
“C’mon, ’Tsumu. It’s already late.”
Atsumu barely reacts, only tightening his grip around his boyfriend’s hand.
Osamu sighs. “’Tsumu, yer makin’ the others worry too,” he says before glancing toward Shouyou. “And he needs to rest too.”
Then Shouyou finally speaks, voice hoarse and muffled underneath the mask.
“Atsumu-san.”
Atsumu finally looks up.
Osamu has seriously had enough of his brother.
“I’ll be fine,” Shouyou says softly. “You should go rest too.”
And Osamu sees it then—the way both of them look at each other like they’ve been married for ten years already.
And they’re telling him they met online?
For fuck’s sake. God should’ve come up with a better scenario for them to meet.
“Fine,” Atsumu exhales quietly, finally letting go of Shouyou’s hand.
Atsumu is quiet during their walk back to the inn.
“Y’know, yer only wrong about one thing about him.”
Atsumu finally glances at him. “What?”
Osamu lets out a quiet chuckle.
“He’s fuckin’ dangerous.”
Atsumu opens his mouth to protest before Osamu cuts him off.
“That jump of his? The speed? That’s fuckin’ lethal.”
Atsumu snorts despite himself. “Toldja.”
“Don’t get smug just because yer boyfriend can fly,” Osamu mutters. “Still think yer insane for datin’ someone ya met online.”
“He ain’t some random guy.”
“That’s easy to say now after ya found out he’s real.”
Atsumu goes quiet again, because that’s the thing.
Shouyou had always been real to him.
Before the match. Before the orange hair. Before seeing him sprint across the court like something unstoppable.
He was real in every late-night call, every stupid argument, every half-asleep you still there? at 1:07 a.m.
Osamu sighs after a moment. “Still can’t believe yer boyfriend’s Karasuno’s middle blocker.”
Atsumu grins a little, tired and fond all at once.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Me neither.”
They’re finally going back to Hyougo the next day. Atsumu sits beside his brother on the bus, head resting against the window.
They leave at the crack of dawn, so he doesn’t get the chance to see Shouyou again before going home.
Instead, he pulls out his phone.
Tsumu
going back today
drink lots of water, take your medicine, rest well
get well soon
i love you
He slips his phone back into his pocket afterward, staring quietly out the window as the bus starts moving.
And for some reason, his mind drifts back to yesterday’s accident—back to the exact moment Shouyou suddenly dropped to the floor in the middle of the match.
His body freezes at the sight of Shouyou collapsing onto the floor, and before he can even think, he’s already running.
Somewhere behind him, he can hear Osamu shouting after him, but all Atsumu manages to yell back is—
“My boyfriend is sick!”
—and then he keeps running, mind racing with only one thought.
Get to him. Get to him as fast as possible.
By the time he reaches the first floor, Shouyou is already gone from the court and the match has continued on without him.
Atsumu barely notices.
He rushes through the gymnasium in a panic until he finally catches a glimpse of orange hair.
Shouyou is standing near the stands, taking a tablet from someone with dyed blond hair and dark roots showing through.
Atsumu slows down then, finally steadying his breathing as he walks closer.
“Shouyou-kun.”
Shouyou immediately turns toward him.
“Atsumu-san.”
Atsumu can only smile at him, relieved in a way that almost makes his knees weak.
“C’mon,” he says softly as he takes Shouyou’s hand. “Let’s find yer manager and get ya some rest.”
Shouyou’s hand is warm—too warm. Fever-warm.
For a second, Shouyou only stares at their intertwined hands before nodding.
Then he looks back at the other boy.
“I’ll get going first, Kenma.”
The other boy only waves at them before leaving.
Not long after, they run into Karasuno’s manager—someone Shouyou calls Yachi-san. She looks a little startled when she sees Atsumu standing there, still holding Shouyou’s hand, but she quickly pulls out a mask and hands it to Shouyou immediately.
“I’m sorry, I only got two,” she says apologetically to Atsumu.
“It’s fine. Ya wear it.”
She puts the mask on right away.
The three of them leave the gym together, Atsumu’s hand still wrapped around Shouyou’s the entire time. Outside, they meet up with another man with dark hair and glasses—Shouyou calls him Shimada-san—who’s already trying to find them a taxi to the hospital.
When the taxi finally arrives, Atsumu immediately says, “I’ll sit in the front.”
From the passenger seat beside the driver, Atsumu can still hear the sound of the livestream playing softly from the back.
He glances toward the rearview mirror in the middle and sees Shouyou watching the match he had to leave behind with quiet, unwavering focus.
Even at the hospital, Shouyou barely looks away from the screen.
It’s a fever.
A high one, too—39.1°C, caused by severe physical exhaustion and lack of recovery.
Atsumu honestly has no idea how his boyfriend managed to play an entire set and a half in that condition. Or maybe even the match before that.
What kind of volleyball monster did he end up dating?
Atsumu sighs as he looks at his boyfriend lying weakly on the bed back at the inn. All he can really do is hold Shouyou’s hand tightly, as if that alone could somehow lessen the fever burning through him.
Yachi managed to find him a mask not long after they got back from the hospital. Atsumu honestly doesn’t care that much, but he’s still glad she did.
Because if he hadn’t worn one, Shouyou probably would’ve nagged at him nonstop about catching the fever too.
Though honestly, Atsumu doesn’t exactly dislike the idea.
“We’re this close and all I can do is hold yer hand,” Atsumu says quietly.
Shouyou chuckles weakly. “Well, if you kiss me, you’re gonna catch my fever.”
Atsumu stays quiet for a moment.
“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”
“Hey,” Shouyou laughs, the sound hoarse and muffled underneath his mask.
Then there’s a knock on the door.
Osamu stands there, coming to pick Atsumu up and effectively ruining the moment, if Atsumu’s opinion matters at all.
He barely reacts, still holding onto Shouyou’s hand like letting go might physically kill him.
It’s only when Shouyou tells him softly to go rest too—that he’ll be fine—that Atsumu finally looks up.
He’s reluctant, obviously.
But eventually, with one last squeeze to Shouyou’s hand, he gives in.
Atsumu snaps out of his thoughts when his phone vibrates in his pocket.
Shou
be careful on the way home
i'll get better ASAP!!
PROMISE
love you too
Atsumu smiles a little before typing back.
Tsumu
i'll definitely visit ya when ya get better
seen 7:10 a.m.
It’s not until the school break after Interhigh preliminaries that Atsumu finally visits him.
Shouyou has known Tsumu for one year, two months, and four days.
He knows Tsumu sends him pictures of every meal he eats, gets strangely clingy when he’s sleepy, and always calls five minutes later whenever Shouyou says “goodnight” first.
He knows the sound of Tsumu laughing through a bad phone connection at 1:07 a.m.
What he doesn’t know is how to act when that very same person he used to only interact with through texts and phone calls is now lying on his bed like he belongs there.
“Atsumu-san,” Shouyou calls.
The older boy immediately looks up from where he’s half-asleep beside him.
“Yes, Shouyou-kun?”
Shouyou smiles. “You know,” he says, pausing for a second, “my mom was really surprised when I told her I have a boyfriend all the way from Hyougo.”
Atsumu laughs quietly at that. “Ma’ was pretty surprised too when I told her I’d be spendin’ the first week of break visitin’ my boyfriend all the way in Miyagi.”
They both laugh softly before the room slowly falls quiet again, and then they just look at each other for a while.
“So, Shou,” Atsumu says after a moment, voice quieter this time, “can I get my kiss now?”
Shouyou stares at him for a second before smiling again.
“Sure, Tsumu.”
And really—
after one year, two months, and four days.
They think it’s worth the wait.