Work Text:
Structure. A strict structure outlined Sakusa’s life. A tight timeline blocking out every hour of his day. His parents called him hardworking and independent. His teachers called him dedicated and intelligent. And more honestly, Motoya called him peculiar and occasionally boring.
Sakusa bit back against Motoya’s slander, but sometimes Sakusa thought Motoya might be right.
Once again on a Friday night, Sakusa turned down Motoya’s invitation to a house party that would undoubtedly end up with someone in trouble. Instead, Sakusa sat at his tidy desk, staring at a stack of textbooks. Just like any other school night, he prepared to study. A test always lurked ahead, and with college entrance exams looming, it was a better time than ever to stay studious. According to his regular schedule, he should start with math, move to science… and then…
bzzz
Sakusa ignored his phone. After exhaling a deep sigh, he dragged the math textbook from the top of the stack and flipped it open. He would review for thirty minutes… and then…
bzzz
In less than thirty seconds, he mentally scrolled through the list of potential senders, crossing them off one by one until he narrowed it down to one individual. He flipped over his phone and sure enough, the name on his screen read…
…Miya Atsumu.
With no one in the room to ask who on earth could invoke such a reaction, Sakusa let a faint smile tug at the corners of his lips.
If anyone asked Sakusa, Miya Atsumu had transformed into the bane of his existence the moment Atsumu sleuthed out his contact information. And when Sakusa says “sleuthed out,” what he really meant was “easily received at the end of their training camp from Sakusa himself.”
In all honesty, the situation caused him to be on the receiving end of an unending torrent of teasing from Motoya. And if Sakusa was really being honest, Motoya had been teasing him for much more than freely distributing his number to the guy with the worst dyed hair at training camp. You see, Sakusa also had given Atsumu his jacket.
───✰✰✰✰✰───
At dinner after their first day of practice at the training camp, Sakusa had found himself grumbling to Motoya, “He shouldn’t have been able to receive that spike. There was so much spin on that ball even you wouldn’t have been able to receive it.”
“Okay, first of all, rude. I thought you were supposed to be working on, what did your parents call it? Oh yeah, being ‘more personable,’” Motoya said through a mouthful of rice. He swallowed his bite before continuing. “Second, who the hell are you talking about?”
“Miya.”
“Are you serious? You’re still thinking about that?”
Sakusa glared down at his dinner. “Yeah, and then the next point. After no one went for Kageyama’s set, the way Miya smiled through the net. It was like—“
“Oop!” Motoya interrupted, eyes alight with mischief. “So what you’re saying is that you’re really thinking about Miya’s smile.”
“What? No? What?” Sakusa spluttered. “Well, yes, but not the way you’re implying.”
Motoya wiggled his eyebrows. “Sure thing.”
Sakusa leaned back into his seat and shifted his glare towards Motoya.
“I’m surprised you don’t want to talk to him,” Motoya said before taking another bite.
“To Miya? Why would I want to talk to him?” Sakusa huffed.
“Didn’t you read the article on Inarizaki and the Miya twins? It was in Volleyball Monthly.”
“Oh god, there’s two of them?”
“Shut up and listen. He’s on track to win setter of the year. You’re always giving our setter dirty looks. You could potentially play with someone who sets up to your standards. Or maybe just closer to your standards.”
Sakusa narrowed his eyes and contemplated what Motoya said. Itachiyama’s setter was good. He arguably was great. But he and Sakusa were never on the same wavelength, one always having to compensate for the other. Atsumu’s cocky smile and effortless sets played on repeat in his mind.
“Careful, you might spike one of his sets and fall in love.” Motoya smirked over his cup at Sakusa once again blustering over his words. “Fall in love with his gameplay, that is. Get a grip.”
Somewhat desperate to end the conversation, Sakusa scanned the cafeteria. Kageyama sat at the opposite end of the room with someone whose name Sakusa hadn’t bothered to remember.
“Alright, I’m going to go talk with Kageyama,” Sakusa deadpanned. “Come if you want; I don’t care.” He carefully tucked the bands of his mask behind his ears and stood up. He returned his dishes before making his way over to the pair with Motoya in tow.
After taking out the remainder of his less-than-optimal mood on Kageyama, Sakusa stalked off to the bathrooms to get ready for bed.
And in the end, it happened how Motoya said. All it took was a couple of sets, and Kiyoomi was hooked. And a single point played in slow motion; the one point that would change the trajectory of Sakusa’s life forever.
The ball arched over the net towards Motoya; he bumped it perfectly towards Atsumu. Sakusa watched Miya track the ball as he readjusted his feet to set the ball.
“Omi-kun!” Miya called for the first time. Sakusa moved, knowing where the ball was going before it even left Atsumu’s fingertips. Sakusa leapt, meeting the ball midair to spike it with deadly precision and perfect spin. It hit the other side of the court, with no one even getting a finger on the ball.
That’s a shot I’ll never get tired of hitting, Sakusa thought to himself as his feet touched the group.
Motoya was hollering something unintelligible as Sakusa turned to face Atsumu. He was dazed by a smile wider and brighter than Sakusa ever thought was possible.
“Nice set, Miya,” Sakusa said, giving a compliment on the court for the first time during the camp.
Atsumu laughed. “It was a great fuckin’ set, Omi-kun.” He cocked his head to the side, looking Sakusa up and down. “I do what I have to to take care of my spikers, ya know?”
Much to his horror, Sakusa’s face flushed. He turned away and returned to his position, more to hide his reaction from Motoya than Atsumu. He just knew that Motoya wouldn’t let him hear the end of it at lunch today, and it would only be worse if Motoya spotted the bright pink blush on his cheeks.
By the end of the day, Sakusa had indeed fallen in love with the way that Atsumu set the ball for him. And maybe Atsumu's terrible dye job didn’t hurt his eyes so much either.
That evening, Sakusa needed a break from Motoya. Desperately. Before dinner, Sakusa slipped out of their room, claiming that he needed to use the bathroom only to go directly to the cafeteria.
He grabbed a plate with a balanced-looking meal before scanning the dining room for a place to sit. Groups of boys sat together here and there. In the back corner, a familiar mop of blonde hair sat bent over his plate. Without even thinking, Sakusa walked to that back table. Atsumu's head darted up at the sound of Sakusa dragging the chair out from being tucked under the table.
“What’re you doing?” Atsumu asked suspiciously.
“Sitting down to eat, Miya,” Sakusa replied with just the right amount of snark.
“Don’t call me that, Omi-kun. Everyone just calls me Atsumu,” he said with a whine.
“If I call you Atsumu, will you stop calling me Omi-kun?” Sakusa’s nose wrinkled at the nickname.
“Nah, definitely not.”
“Then I’ll call you what I want,” Sakusa murmured before taking his mask off and tucking it away. When he glanced over to Atsumu, Atsumu was studying his face with bright eyes. “What are you looking at?”
“Oh, um, I- Well, I just never have seen ya without your mask this close,” Atsumu answered, stumbling through his words. He looked immediately displeased with what he said, and Sakusa resisted the urge to smirk.
“Well, just take a picture. It lasts longer.” Sakusa froze at his words as they slipped out of his mouth and his playful, lilting tone. That was too much, too forward, to flirty for him. He never said anything like that, to anyone; he simply had never wanted to. He waited to hear the scrape of Atsumu's chair as he got up to leave Sakusa.
But Atsumu sat in front of him, cheeks tinged lightly pink and still appearing a little flustered. Neither of them made a move to leave.
As they ate their dinner together, Atsumu's shoulders relaxed, and Kiyoomi’s leg stopped bouncing with nervous energy. Casual chatter began picking up, mostly Atsumu sharing stories and facts. Sakusa made sure to encourage him with attentive nodding and an occasional quip that always made Atsumu chuckle. Sakusa learned the ins and outs of Atsumu’s life in a single evening, and he had found himself sharing more than he even did with Motoya. Time passed in a whirlwind until the dining room was empty beside them.
“Ya know, you’re not half bad, Omi-kun,” Atsumu said as he folded his hands together behind his head and leaned a little too far back in his chair to be safe. Sakusa cursed himself for the nervous flip of his stomach at the lackluster compliment.
“Likewise, Miya,” Sakusa agreed as he put his mask back on and stood up.
After disposing of their dishes, they fell in step with each other to walk back to their rooms. They walked a little too slow and a little too close, their arms brushing every now and then. Once they arrived in their hall, the pair parted for the evening without much fanfare.
And in the morning, as everyone prepared to leave for their respective homes, Sakusa happened across one particularly cold Miya Atsumu.
They had all left the sports complex, set on finding their proper routes home when Sakusa and Motoya ended up waiting at the same stop as Atsumu.
Atsumu had a small backpack strapped to his shoulders and was wearing a coat entirely too light for the cold temperature outside. As Sakusa and Motoya drew closer to the stop, Sakusa noticed that Atsumu was in fact shivering. Burrowing deeper into his scarf, Sakusa could practically feel how bone-cold Atsumu must have been feeling. Without a second thought, Sakusa tugged open the zipper of his duffle bag and dug around the neatly folded clothes to find the spare jacket he had packed.
“What are you doing?” Motoya asked as Sakusa strode ahead to where Atsumu sat.
“I’m not surprised you didn’t pack appropriately for the weather,” Sakusa called out.
Atsumu's head whipped around. “You’re really one to kick a man while he’s down, ain’t’cha.”
Sakusa tossed the coat towards him and said, “Put this on. It would suck if you got sick during your trip back.”
Atsumu caught the coat and looked down at it. “Ya don’t need to give me this.”
“You’re right; I don’t have to, but I packed an extra and don’t mind. So take it.”
Atsumu took off his backpack quickly and slipped the jacket on as quickly as possible. After zipping it up, he rubbed his hands over his arms, warming himself up.
Atsumu looked up at him, eyes wide and hopeful. “Can I getcha number? So I can make sure I can get your coat back to ya.”
“Sure, yes. Yeah, that’d be cool,” Sakusa mumbled.
Somewhere behind them, Motoya snickered.
Atsumu handed Sakusa his phone, and Sakusa diligently typed in his contact information. He sent himself a message to save Atsumu's information on his phone too, then he handed the phone back to Atsumu.
Atsumu cleared his throat and said a little lower, “Thanks for lettin’ me borrow your coat, Omi-kun.”
Sakusa readjusted his duffle bag’s strap to rest higher on his shoulder and shifted back and forth on his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his and Motoya’s bus roll around the corner. He weighed his options and settled on a slightly riskier reply than he would have ever gone with before.
“Of course, Atsumu. I have to take care of my setter, after all.”
Sakusa moved towards the open door as quickly as possible, leaving a surprised Miya Atsumu in his wake.
───✰✰✰✰✰───
bzzz
Sakusa blinked a few times and brought his attention back to his phone after reminiscing. He closed up his math book, snatched his phone, and flopped on his bed.
Atsumu had spent the past couple of weeks nosing his way into Sakusa’s life with one text message at a time. In return, Sakusa had been breaking his routine to carve out a little bit more time each day to text witty replies and read Atsumu's long, rambling stories. Tonight was one of those nights. Studying could wait a couple of minutes.
> Miya: ooooooooooomi
> Miya: ooooomi omiomiomi
> Miya: entertain me omi samu abandoned me to go hang out with sunarin
> Sakusa: Good to know I’m just back up entertainment
> Miya: U know what i mean
> Sakusa: If you mean that your brother finally got some sense leaving your ass behind, then yes, I know what you mean
Sakusa smiled at the stream of disgruntled messages and a plethora of frowning emojis popping into the chat. Atsumu took his turn poking fun at Sakusa before they fell into a casual conversation. After a lull in their conversation, Sakusa’s phone buzzed again.
> Miya: hey omi
> Sakusa: What
> Miya: i think samu is going to spend the night at sunarin’s
> Miya: you wanna talk on the phone?
Sakusa squinted up at his phone then nearly dropped the device on his face when he read the message. Talk? On the phone?
> Sakusa: Ew no.
He immediately dialed Atsumu’s number after sending the message.
Atsumu picked up on the first ring.
“Hi,” Atsumu squeaked, then cleared his throat and tried at a little bit lower octave, “I mean hi.”
“Ew, what the fuck was that?” Sakusa teased.
“I- shut up, Omi-omi! Your startin’ to be worse than ‘Samu and Sunarin!”
“I doubt they would let you off the hook as easily as I will after whatever that was,” Sakusa said with a faint smile.
Atsumu grumbled a bit more before restarting brightly with, “So when am I gonna see ya next? I gotta give ya the jacket back.” He paused. “I might not want to though. It’s pretty comfy.”
Sakusa’s eyes widened. For a fraction of a second, he almost told Atsumu to keep it. Instead, he went with, “Your team is playing at Nationals, right? I’ll see you then.”
“You bet we’re playin’ at Nationals! We’ll kick your team’s ass too!”
“Good luck with that, Atsumu.”
Sakusa somehow barely heard him suck in a breath over their crinkly connection. Out of the pure kindness of his heart, Sakusa followed up his statement with a question about a new play Atsumu’s team was working on. Atsumu enthusiastically answered. They fell into an easy conversation, and similarly to their first night eating dinner together, time slipped by easily.
The longer they talked, the more and more light Sakusa felt. His stomach flipped at Atsumu’s laugh, and he felt his heart in his chest flutter when Atsumu really listened to what he had to say. It was around 12:43 AM that he realized that he was giddy. Talking to Miya Atsumu, Miya Atsumu, was making him giddy.
Only a couple of minutes later after a long span of silence, Sakusa heard a faint, gentle snore from the other side of the phone.
“See you at Nationals,” Sakusa whispered mostly to himself before ending their phone call.
───✰✰✰✰✰───
And see Atsumu at Nationals, he did.
Motoya didn’t even ask a single question when Sakusa mentioned watching the Inarizaki versus Karasuno match. All he did was give Sakusa a smug smile and a wiggle of his eyebrows, and somehow that was much worse.
Sakusa wouldn’t say watching Atsumu from the sidelines was better. Hitting Atsumu’s sets would always be the best, but from the sidelines, he saw a whole new perspective of Atsumu: his dynamic with his team, the dramatics of each set, and the unbridled passion he had for the game. The longer he watched, the more he wished he was playing on Atsumu’s side of the court.
While the crowd's eyes watched Kageyama and his oddly short middle blocker pull off a freakish quick attack, Sakusa’s gaze remained on Atsumu.
As the ball struck the floor, Motoya gasped, “Whoa, neat!” Sakusa shot him a dirty glare.
Sakusa didn’t move from his spot the entire match. He watched each point dutifully over the edge of his mask carefully. He categorized the plays that went particularly well and analyzed plays that went wrong and how Atsumu could fix them. He didn’t stop watching the match until the whistle blew for the last call. He saw the disappointed look on Atsumu and Osamu’s faces. Sakusa didn’t pity him, not one bit. But he did begin to contemplate what words would be the best to say to salve the sting of defeat.
That is until he heard him call the name of that particularly tiny middle blocker.
Sakusa watched with narrow eyes as Atsumu pointed at the boy with a mop of orange hair on his head.
“I’m gonna be setting to you one day,” Atsumu claimed, as clear as day.
An uncomfortable sensation grew in Sakusa’s chest. A pressure swelled, and his stomach knotted. His glare reappeared on his face. His brows furrowed. And very last of all, a lump formed in his throat.
He realized, much to his horror, that he was jealous. Miya Atsumu, Miya Atsumu, was making him jealous.
And so Sakusa did what he usually did when confronted with something unnecessarily uncomfortable: he left.
───✰✰✰✰✰───
Approximately three hours later, he regretted it. And after what Sakusa expected were a couple of hours of recovery for Atsumu, his phone began to buzz.
> Atsumu: omi thanks for coming to the match even though i sucked!!!!!
> Atsumu: just kidding i had some pretty fucking sweet moves
> Atsumu: but also we lost so i sucked
Sakusa huffed, rolled his eyes, and rubbed his temples.
> Sakusa: You were a little reckless, but I wouldn’t say you sucked
> Atsumu: wow your kind words really helped me in my time of need
> Sakusa: You need all the help you can get
> Sakusa: Do you want to meet up tomorrow?
> Sakusa: So you can give me my jacket?
> Atsumu: yea I’d like to see you
> Atsumu: to give back your jacket
Whatever knot had formed in Sakusa’s stomach loosened slightly after reading Atsumu’s double text.
They had arranged to meet early in the morning right after their teams arrived at the athletics complex. Sakusa stood off to the side of the atrium avoiding the steadily accumulating crowd as much as possible. He readjusted his mask so it sat even higher on the bridge of his nose as he scanned the crowds looking for a particularly crispy head of hair.
However, Sakusa should have known that there was no way that Atsumu would arrive before him. Only five minutes late, Atsumu popped through the glass doors first out of his entire team. He hollered back at his teammate something before walking away, peering through the crowds. Sakusa pushed off the wall the moment Atsumu’s eyes met his, taking a few steps in his direction.
“Omi-omi!” Atsumu called out, raising a hand and flashing a smile in greeting. Sakusa nodded in return.
Atsumu thrust his hands into his pockets. “So I got something to tell ya,” he started.
Sakusa arched an eyebrow inquisitively.
“Wait, follow me,” Atsumu said, offering his hand out to Sakusa.
Sakusa eyed it cautiously. “Are you taking me to a corner to steal my lunch money?”
“Nah, I just know ya don’t like being around crowds for too long.”
For some reason, Sakusa’s stomach swooped at his words. His eyes darted around, confirming no one he knew was hanging around. He took Atsumu’s hand and said, “Lead the way.”
Atsumu grinned and squeezed his hand twice before taking off down a small hallway.
After a few twists and turns, they ended up near a pair of water fountains that looked perfectly pristine.
“There’s no one ever here! So there’s no line to fill up your water bottles.” Atsumu looked slightly proud of himself for sharing his discovery. He leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms. Sakusa mirrored his position. He reached up to unhook his mask from behind his ears then tucked it into his pocket.
Atsumu’s mouth popped open in a tiny O.
“Ya look good with the mask. All intimidatin’ and stuff. But without it.” Atsumu whistled long and low. “Omi, you’re the prettiest.” Atsumu froze the moment the words left his lips, wide eyes looking slightly up at Sakusa.
And Sakusa’s cheeks burned. He struggled between a variety of responses: a meek thank you, a scathing quip, a simpering compliment in return. Instead of saying anything, he looked at Atsumu’s earnest face and smiled, just a smidge.
“Wow, okay! That wasn’t the response I was expectin’!”
“All I did was smile. What were you expecting? That I run for the hills?”
“I dunno. ‘Samu said that all the flirtin’ was in my head.”
“Oh, so you have been flirting with me.”
It was Atsumu’s turn to struggle for words. He scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand and shifted back and forth.
“Well, Omi, if I’m doing something that is making you think I feel some kinda way about’cha, it’s because I do feel that way about’cha.”
Sakusa looked at him blankly. “Please tell me that wasn’t you confessing to me. That sentence has me doing mental gymnastics,” Sakusa said. Atsumu had begun to say something when Sakusa cut him off. “Actually no, you don’t get to take it back. That’s how you confessed. I’m going to tell everyone.”
Atsumu squawked indignantly.
“That’s not how I was supposed to say that,” he groaned. “But you also haven’t rejected me, so I must have done something right.”
“You’ve done one or two things right, I guess.”
“Hah! You like me!” Atsumu gloated.
“Yeah, and I have no clue why,” Sakusa whispered. His eyes flitted over Atsumu’s face, dragging a little more slowly across his lips before dipping back up to Atsumu’s widening eyes.
Atsumu leaned into Sakusa’s space just a tad bit more. Sakusa could feel each puff of Atsumu’s breath on his face. His heart raced in his chest. Instead of wanting to pull away, Sakusa thought of putting his hand on Atsumu’s waist and pulling him in a little closer.
So that’s what he did, and Atsumu’s eyes grew as round and wide as dinner plates.
“Is this where I’m supposed to ask ya to be my boyfriend officially?” Atsumu whispered.
“We live more than five hundred kilometers apart, Atsumu,” Sakusa replied softly. “And we’re in high school. Who knows where we’re going to end up.”
“Yeah,” Atsumu agreed dejectedly. He looked back up at Sakusa. “Can we keep talking though?”
Sakusa let out a small, breathy laugh. “Yeah. I’ll have to hunt you down if you start to ignore me.”
“Okay, good.” Atsumu paused before tentatively placing his hands on Kiyoomi’s waist. “One more question.”
“Yeah?”
“Do ya think I can kiss ya?”
“Yeah, that sounds fine to me.”
Atsumu’s face split out into a grin before going back to slightly more serious. One of his hands trailed up to brush Kiyoomi’s hair back before gently cupping his face.
As far as first kisses go, Sakusa’s technically wasn’t anything special. Atsumu dipped in a little too fast, there had been too much teeth, and it was over a little too quickly. Despite all this, Sakusa felt like he was soaring.
“Atsumu,” Sakusa murmured.
“Hm?” Atsumu replied.
“Is this what you wanted to tell me?”
“Uh, nope,” Atsumu said a little nervously.
“Did you forget my jacket?”
“Yeah, I left it at home in my closet,” Atsumu said with a chuckle. “I suppose I’ll have to give it to ya next year, Omi-kun.”