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Miya Atsumu's unwavering love for Sakusa Kiyoomi and an unholy amount of terrible food analogies that should not have the right to Exist

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(i) Miya Osamu


“How do you make friends apart from showering them in praise?” Atsumu wails one night, and Osamu thinks, oh god, here we go again.

"Who's the poor victim this time?" Osamu asks, the amount of curiosity projected just right to show Yes, Tsumu, I care for your worries, we've been over this , and No, Tsumu, this doesn't mean I won't get agitated if you pine for 5 hours straight until it's 4a.m. in the morning .

"Victim?" Atsumu gives his twin a horrified and exaggerated gasp. "You say all the time that I don't try to make friends, and the one time I do you say my object of affection is a victim?"

Osamu lies on his bed, looking at the glow in the dark stars that have faded over the years, and not at his twin who barged into his room just as he was ready to go to sleep. "What do you care for friends anyway, Tsumu? I thought you said it was fine whether people liked you or not?" There's a wry smile at the end of his lips, but Atsumu was far too distressed to pick on his brother's teasing tone.

"It's different!"

"Different how?"

"We'll need to be in each other's company for a long time, I should at least try to get along with people I can for a better time for my sake!"

"How do people usually make friends with you then?" Osamu sits up, giving Atsumu a lazy grin. "Can't you just do what you always do, people charmer?"

He laughs when Atsumu looks at him like he just spoke in German instead of Japanese.

"Were you even listening to me, Samu?" Atsumu wails again, his tone dramatic enough to rival Hoshiumi. "I asked how people make friends with other people apart from showering them in praises, because that's the only way I know how!"

Atsumu buries his head in his head, the flashy blonde streaks that sets them apart during the day now dulled under the dim night light of Osamu's room, and its moments like these that Osamu remembers this is his Atsumu, not the one that belongs to the world. This Atsumu was the one he grew up with, the one who never messes up serves and sets, and takes all five of Osamu's Inarizaki T shirts and not bothering to return them although knowing perfectly well his own were just sitting in the very bottom of his closet.

"Who are you trying to befriend anyway?" Osamu prods. "You need to give me more to go on."

"Like what, his blood type and horoscope?”

Osamu throws a pillow across the room with perfect aim that comes with years of training of being the twin of one annoying Miya Atsumu.

"Like his personality, dipshit. Things like 'He's an arrogant jerk that rivals even Atsumu, and so to befriend him is a no go, you might as well straightaway opt for flattery until he declares himself your loyal slave for times to come', something like that."

Before he finishes, the pillow comes back in one smooth arc, hitting Osamu in the stomach. Osamu flops back in his bed in exaggeration of the damage he had taken from Atsumu’s attack, letting the seething and vengeful silence hang in the air, and his eyes close. "If you're going to sit there and whine because you can't make friends then get out, Tsumu. I'm gonna sleep.”

"It's Omi-kun," Atsumu says. Osamu doesn't have to look to know he's pouting.

"Uh huh, and what?"

"I'm trying my best to be nice! I'm respecting his boundaries as Cap'n Meian keeps saying and dude still looks at me with that look in his eyes!”

"What look, Tsumu? I don't spectate all of your practices, remember?”

Osamu can feel Atsumu scrunch up his face before going on, "Like I'm leftovers from last week that no one remembered to throw away and now it's disgusting and he's the poor chap that has to deal with it."

"That's oddly specific."

"You weren't there, Samu, it was terrible!" Atsumu wails. "I just want to get along with my teammates, so at least there's something to look forward to everyday, is that too much to ask?"

"I still think it's incredible you care. You never did for anyone else. Did hell freeze over or something?"

"Omi-omi isn't always like that! Sometimes Shouyou says really stupid shit and then you see him trying very hard to not laugh and it gives me hope that if I keep up at this maybe he'll quit giving me the 'you're leftover food from last week' look and maybe give me a 'you are like Miya Onigiri after a 5 hours of practice look', y'know? I did a really good toss once, not that there are any of my tosses that are anything but excellent, but Omi-omi gave me a 'you are like egg fried just right, not too burnt or too raw' look, and I get pumped thinking about that one day, y'know? You should totally come spectate us practice. I'm sure they'd let you if you brought food for everyone."

At this point, it was getting far too hard for Osamu to string a coherent thought together in response. While it could just have easily been due to sleep that weighed heavily on his eyelids, he suspected it also had something to do with Atsumu's god awful analogies about food.

"Maybe," he hums noncommittally. "I think you're fine. You are the people charmer among us both anyway. If there's going to be anyone who can thaw a being like Sakusa Kiyoomi, it may very well be you."

"That's twice you've said it this night. Are you trying to be sarcastic and failing terribly?"

"I was trying to be genuine, but you're making it very tempting now."

Atsumu thinks about it for a moment, and he soon decides that he likes this outcome of the discussion. "Thanks, Samu!" he chirps, leaping up from the chair, the sound of plastic dragging across the floor of Osamu’s room making him wince.

“You’re welcome,” Osamu says. “Goodnight?” He asks hopefully.

“Goodnight,” Atsumu says, closing the door as he leaves, the utter bliss on his face reminding Osamu of a warm Yakisoba noodles bento after school. 

Ah shit , he thinks, Atsumu’s terrible analogies are getting to me .



(ii) Bokuto Koutarou


“You need to help me,” Atsumu says with a look of desperation in his eyes.

“Help you with what?” Bokuto chomps down on his fishball, the hunger that kicked in after practice only allowing him to put 20 percent of his attention on his setter.

It must have really been bothering Atsumu a lot if he was so distressed that he forgot they were supposed to be eating, Bokuto notes when he finally spares Atsumu enough thought to properly comprehend what was going on. The air was chilly after the downpour, and Bokuto frowns, first at Atsumu’s bowl of oden that was getting colder by the minute, then at Atsumu. Bokuto bites into the end of his hard boiled egg.

“Help me make friends with Omi-omi!” Atsumu says, and he finally takes a sip of his oden, to Bokuto’s relief.

“Uh huh, what’s with that? I thought you were friends with everyone on the team?” Bokuto says seriously. “You’re the setter, I don’t think you can do well if you have beef with anyone on the team.”

Atsumu chokes. “I don’t have beef with Omi-omi! I adore him! He has beef with me!” he says defensively, and bites into the daikon that he has been flicking around for a while for now. Bokuto isn’t sure he approves of people playing with food in general, but oh well, that can wait.

“I’m pretty sure Sakusa doesn’t hate you,” Bokuto begins, but he is cut off before he can go on.

“Bokkun! That was in no way comforting to hear! I want Omi-omi to like me, I’m not going to call it a day just because he doesn’t hate me.”

“He hates a lot of people, though?” Bokuto asked, thinking about how good and fresh the fishcakes from this oden restaurant really is. Damn, Akaashi was good at finding lesser known but still incredible restaurants.

They eat in silence for a while after that, probably because the hunger and fatigue from hours of gruelling practice was finally starting to kick in. People trickle in and out of the tiny oden restaurant, but the pair go unnoticed, successfully hidden among the masses who all came to this not very well known place for the food only, everything else that went on easily escaping their attention.

“Have you ever had oden at convenience stores?” Atsumu asks when they’re almost done, as Bokuto pops the last piece of carrot in his mouth with one clean movement.

“Convenience store oden?”

“Yeah, stuff you can get at 7/11 or family mart?”

“Yeah, every now and then, why?”

“Sakusa looks at all of you like you guys are oden from this shop,” Atsumu pouts, gesturing vaguely to the place around them. “And me?” His expression sours, “He looks at me like I’m oden from convenience shops.”

Bokuto chuckles, one of his loud and hearty laughs, and he gives Atsumu a slap on the back. “What are you talking about, Tsum-tsum?”

“Don’t you guys see it too? It’s like he thinks you guys are the good oden stuff with a frothy taste and like I’m the cheap diluted stuff that even 5 year olds can cook.”

“Not really,” Bokuto scratches his head as he tries to rack his mind in search of these crazy incidents that Atsumu claims to have happened, but he doesn’t succeed. “It took ages but I’m pretty sure Sakusa has warmed up to us all by now. Have you tried talking to him about it?”

“Talking to him about what?”

“About how you feel like he looks at you like you’re strawberry jam toast dipped into coffee or diluted oden or something.”

Atsumu gives Bokuto a look and for a moment Bokuto fears for his life.

“For the record, I do not,” Atsumu hisses, “Look like strawberry jam toast dipped in coffee or whatever the hell you are talking about.” His eyes narrow at Bokuto. "Got it?"

He looks satisfied when Bokuto nods frantically in response. He continues dejectedly. "What do you expect me to do, anyway? Just go up to him and say, ‘look me in the goddamn eye, Omi-omi, why won’t you be friends with me?’, that?”

Bokuto blinks. “Yeah!”

“No!” Atsumu hisses yet again. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“No it’s not,” Bokuto blinks again.

“Can’t we stick to the original idea?” Atsumu pleads. “Y’know, of you giving me advice on how to make friends with people like Omi-omi who goes out of his way to not make friends?”

“I gave you my thoughts,” Bokuto ruffles Atsumu’s hair affectionately. “Now it is totally up to your charm, which you already got a lot of, no?”

Atsumu drops the murderous look. “You really think so?” 

“Hell yeah!” Bokuto grins, “You should stop worrying about it all and just do what you usually do, since it has always worked so far, right?”

Bokuto thinks about the events of today, of Atsumu passing compliments to everyone on the team, and he remembers thinking to himself, man! Tsum-tsum really is a good friend to have around! He remembers the looks of utter bliss on the faces of everyone, who, while being well known professional players, always appreciated a genuine word of praise. Sakusa probably would have felt the same way about Atsumu’s niceness and friendliness, right? There was no way Bokuto’s logic could be wrong!

“You didn’t see how he practically looked like I was undercooked chicken today when I told everyone what I think they did well today after practice?” Atsumu asks dejectedly.

Come to think of it, not everyone took Atsumu’s compliments graciously today. Atsumu’s words jogged Bokuto’s memory and he remembered how there was someone who threw a bunch of snide remarks back at Atsumu, which was why he'd been down in the dumps after practice.

Bokuto freezes. Atsumu looking sad was the reason in the first place Bokuto had suggested they both come to eat oden! He was a man on a mission to cheer his teammate up from heartbreak! Bokuto Kotarou! He scolds himself sternly. How could you have forgotten a comrade in pain!

“C’mere,” Bokuto says, horrified at his own insensitivity and eager to make up for it, and stretches out his arms to pull Atsumu in for a hug, who was too bewildered to retaliate. “There, there, now.” He pats Atsumu on the back. “It’s a shame Sakusa was unkind to you. You’re facing heartbreak, I know all too well, but for the sake of true love, you have to prevail,” he says in the wisest tone he could muster.

The rest of the incident ends with Atsumu’s protests being muffled in Bokuto’s tight embrace, as he assures Atsumu repeatedly, “If anything goes wrong, you’ll always have me!”



(iii) Hinata Shouyou


Hinata Shouyou has been crowned most oblivious fool over and over, but even he can tell that Miya Atsumu was facing a severe case of emotional constipation, and this obsession of his to befriend Sakusa Kiyoomi is best described with the term ‘crush’.

In other words, Hinata is 99.99% sure Atsumu has a crush on Sakusa, and while Hinata being Hinata, adores Atsumu with every fibre of his being, he knows the weight of this knowledge will come back to haunt him one day.

Today is that day.

“Shouyou!” Atsumu leaps at the sight of Hinata and clings onto him the way a distraught toddler clings onto their mother. “I asked Omi-omi if he would like to have dinner tomorrow after practice because no one else is going to be around and he said that practically sounds like I want him dead.”

Atsumu goes on an angry and distressed tangent, but thanks to him having no concept of telling incidents in chronological order, and instead choosing to say whatever comes to mind, Hinata understands none of it.

Taken aback by Atsumu’s outburst, he slings an arm over his shoulder with little difficulty (thanks to the height difference, but hey, if he can sling an arm over Lev’s shoulder, he can do Atsumu), and comforts him.

“You need to tell me everything from the top,” he reminds him. “I won’t know how to help you if you don’t tell me the full situation.”

And so, Atsumu begins his very sad tale of ‘multiple attempts to befriend Sakusa Kiyoomi the unattainable that all inevitably ended in very sad, very tragic endings of the rejection of a poor soul named Miya Atsumu’, or something like that. 

“And you know how we always eat together as a team on Fridays, and how you’re meeting up with Karasuno and Bokuto is going on a date with Akaashi and everyone else has something that is far more important than our comradeship on this particular Friday, which means Omi-omi and I theoretically have the common ground of abandonment by people who thought we could rely on?”

Hinata nods.

“So I thought, ‘Hey! We are both the most unarguably good looking people on this team, we don’t deserve such treatment from you lot, to keep the sacred rituals of Friday evening dinners going, Omi-omi and I should totally continue without you guys, because why do we have to not have fun when literally everyone else is having fun’, am I right or am I right?”

There are a lot of things Hinata wants to argue about in that particular sentence, but at this point he is too unhinged to care, so he goes, “uh huh.”

“Yeah! So I went and told Omi-omi, said something like we should both go and grab good food and have a whole lot of fun, more fun than the rest of the team put together, and he said no while having the audacity to look at me like I dipped an mango in tomato sauce or something, and saying by doing that it practically sounds like I want him dead!”


“I don’t know! I’m here asking you, aren’t I?” 

Atsumu has a point, Hinata thinks. 

“Did you try to tell him where you guys could go? You bringing him to some crowded bazaar is the only scenario I can think of that would justify him saying that?”

Atsumu looks hurt. “I wouldn’t be so insensitive towards Omi-omi!”

“I know, but did you make sure to say it loud and clear?” Hinata feels Atsumu’s shoulders tense under his arm. “Loud places with massive crowds to display your brilliance to the adoring public are kind of your branding, you know?”

Atsumu briefly considers this. “Oh,” he says, very quietly. There is certain fear in his eyes. “Is that what he thought I was gonna do?”

“Who knows?” Hinata laughs. “You do come up with wild ideas sometimes, and I don’t think Omi-san always knows how to react to you.”

Atsumu frantically fishes out his phone. He opens up the text conversation with Sakusa and his fingers begin to fly.

“Do you think I’m overstepping his boundaries by trying so hard to be friends?” Atsumu asks. “I can’t seem to make things right with him no matter how much I go out of my way to show my concern! Samu and Bokkun say I’m charming, and I know they are absolutely right, so why is it that whenever it comes to Omi-omi all this charm doesn’t get through?”

Hinata stretches. “Why do you try so hard when it’s with Omi-san?” he asks, tilting his head to give Atsumu a curious look. “I always thought you didn’t care what other people thought of you, so why is it different with him?”

“You know how sometimes you go eat a big meal with people, and then there is always that one dish people overlook? So the dish is the last one left when people are done, and at this point people just push it around and give each other excuses like how they have already finished their rice, or how they ate before coming, they’re allergic or whatever, but whatever happens at the end is no one wants it, and there’s going to be one person who ends up finishing it because they don’t want to waste food?”

Hinata stares at Atsumu. “Did you just compare Omi-san to leftovers?”

Atsumu looks offended that Hinata would even suggest such a thing. “Of course not,” he says hotly. “I just … I know he makes a huge fuss to get us to leave him alone but sometimes I just look at us goofing around, and I think hey, wouldn’t it be great for Omi-omi if he could also have so much fun with us as we do with each other?”

“So you’re the guy that doesn’t wanna waste food?”

Hinata winces when Atsumu elbows him.

“I am just working towards a day where the brilliance of Miya Atsumu can eradicate all misery in this universe, is that too much to ask?”

Hinata points to Atsumu’s phone. “Is that a reply from Omi-kun?”

As he watches Atsumu read the little “no” on the screen, and proceed to have a massive meltdown, he thinks to himself, yeah, Atsumu is in love .



(iv) Akaashi Keiji


Akaashi was more or less on pretty good terms with the Black Jackals for three reasons. 

One, Bokuto being Bokuto, was on pretty good terms with the Black Jackals. 

Two, Bokuto being Bokuto, liked to have friends over and play the role of being a good host and giving his friends a place to hang out after work, or in terms more accurate to depict Bokuto’s situation, after practice. 

Three, Bokuto being Bokuto, was anything but a good host, so the role of being a good host fell to Akaashi who happened to be many things that Bokuto was not, like a good chef, and a good boyfriend who was ready to step in as a good host where his boyfriend could not be.

As it happens, this is how Akaashi accidentally finds himself being on such good term with the Black Jackals, and how he find Miya Atsumu flopped over his coffee table at two thirty seven pm on a Sunday afternoon even though he should be home right now, and Akaashi knows this because the Black Jackals are off somewhere together and he just witnessed Bokuto get very upset when Atsumu called in sick and said he couldn’t come.

Akaashi stares at Atsumu, who does not stare back because he is too busy staring at Akaashi’s coffee table. He waits patiently for Atsumu to speak for a good 5 minutes before he gives up. He clears his throat. 

“Can I help?” he offers. “Do you want coffee? Tea? To talk about whatever this is?”

“Tea would be good, thank you. Talking about whatever this is is also good.” His words are muffled, but Akaashi gets the gist of it. Promptly, he returns with tea, egg tarts that they got this morning, and the mental preparation for a long talk.

Akaashi feels like a school counsellor. “So," he begins, "how can I help you?” 

“I think I’m in love with someone,” Atsumu says in a manner that sounds like he’s telling you he prefers apple juice to orange juice, as he looks up from the coffee table to the coffee. It's far too unsettling because it's lacking several doses of emotion from what is considered a standard Atsumu amount. He looks like he's in a daze, all wide-eyed and blank expressions, but Akaashi isn't complaining. It'll make his resident good host job easier, he supposes.

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Yeah. And I can’t stop thinking about him in the way you sometimes think about mango jellies you loved when you were five but they stopped selling and you can no longer find them anywhere.” Atsumu helps himself to one of the egg tarts. “Anyway, I came to you because I didn’t know who to go to who wouldn’t think I was out of my mind or laugh at me or demand to know who he is in order to hunt him down.”

Mango jellies? Akaashi wonders. “Uh huh,” he says. “Anyone I know?”

Atsumu glares at him as he munches angrily on the egg tart. “I thought I just said I came to you because I believed you wouldn’t try to hunt him down.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t got to the point. How can I help?”

“How do you know you really are in love with someone and you aren’t just sorry at their inability to make friends or just overwhelmed by their incredible skills or just find them unexplainably hot although they have this particular scumbag personality that would most definitely made you want to punch them in the face had it been anyone else, but now that it’s them you just want to kiss them?” 

Akaashi stares at him. 


“Did you rehearse that?”

“Did I rehearse what?”

“That,” Akaashi makes some vague gestures at Atsumu. “The thing about not knowing if you’re in love.”

“Course not, the fuck."

“Then isn’t that enough proof for you? The fact that you so effortlessly recited a bunch of very specific things that you like about him and concluding it with you wanting to kiss him?”

Atsumu mulls over Akaashi’s words, and he reaches for another egg tart. “Can I have another one?”


Atsumu chews on his egg tart, before continuing. “Huh, you’re kinda good with this relationship thing, Akaashi. That makes a lot of sense, actually.”

No I’m not, you’re just kind of an idiot when it comes to anything that isn’t volleyball , Akaashi wants to say, but he doesn’t, because he’s a nice guy. He's the resident good host, he has a job to do, a reputation to maintain.

“Uh huh. So are you gonna do anything about it?”

“About what?” 

“Are you going to tell Sakusa you’re in love with him?”

Atsumu chokes on his egg tart. “This is some good stuff,” he points to the egg tart, eyes not meeting Akaashi’s.

“Yeah, Sakusa brought some last time he came over and we asked if he’d get us more next time.”

Atsumu chokes again. Akaashi wonders if he should stop teasing Atsumu.

“How do you know?” he asks dismally. “You’re the first person I told and I only figured this out yesterday.”

“You weren't exactly subtle. We thought you knew what you were doing when you shamelessly pounced on every opportunity to flirt with him.”

“Oh god,” Atsumu says.

“Oh god,” Akaashi agrees.

They sit in the living room under the whirring fan and sip their tea like that for a moment. 

“What do I do about this?” Atsumu asks.

Akaashi puts on his best knowing and wise voice, one that he has caught Bokuto imitating a lot. “I don’t want to make this decision for you," he explains.

Atsumu sees through his bullshit at a glance. “You’re saying you don’t want to take responsibility if I confess and he hates me and I have to switch teams and I live the rest of my life in pain and despair fully knowing I’ll never find happiness again.” He looks utterly unimpressed.

“That’s a bit dramatic, Atsumu.” Akaashi holds out the tea pot, because he is a good host. “More tea?”

“Yes, thank you.”

They drink more tea and sit in more silence.



(v) Miya Osamu


Atsumu plops into a chair in Osamu’s restaurant one night after practice, and he says, “I think I’m in love.”

Osamu scrunches up his nose. “You’ve been saying that for the past three months since you talked to Akaashi, what’s new this time?” He begins to make a minced tuna and spring onion onigiri.

“No like, I know what I'm going to do about it now.”


"I'm going to go tell him I love him?”

Osamu waits for his twin to go on as his hands deftly kneads away at the rice, but he soon realises that was the end of the sentence, and said twin is expectantly looking at him from a chair across the glass divider of his shop awaiting a reply, probably something congratulatory.

"That's it?"

"What do you mean that's it, Samu?" Atsumu asks in horror, a look that recently frequented their exchanges. Osamu thinks he enjoys this particular look on Atsumu. "I agonised over this decision!"

“I know, idiot. That's why I was expecting something more substantial after hearing you pine and wail about wanting to be Sakusa's friend for ages and then hearing you pine and wail once more about wanting to be Sakusa's boyfriend.” Osamu gives him an amused look.

"I will not let your snide remarks deter me. Confessing one's deepest, darkest and innermost sincere feelings is a sacred process, and should be treated with care and respect."

Osamu smiles, and hands him the onigiri, successfully shutting him up, though not for long.

“Y’know,” Atsumu says with his mouth full. “Y’know how people sometimes associate other people with things like colours and music and seasons.”

“Please swallow before you speak,” Osamu says.

“Yeah whatever,” Atsumu gulps it down. “Do you do that?”

“I don’t think so. Why? Do you?”

“I don’t particularly try? But sometimes I see someone and my brain just inserts a picture of food before it inserts their name, y’know?”

“No I don’t, that’s so weird, who the hell does that?”

“Hey, you’re not allowed to say that about your twin! Do you not do that? I was thinking you were the food obsessed guy between us so if it was a thing for me it’s probably a thing for you too?”

“What do you associate people with, then? Say Kageyama.”

“Tobio-kun?” Atsumu asks. “Curry udon.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don’t know, it’s the first thing that came to mind. Maybe because every time we meet we just happen to go for curry udon?”

“What? That’s not special, Tsumu. You’re not associating things with people, you’re just associating memories to them. What do you associate Sakusa with?”

“Honey and maple syrup on a hot waffle with a black coffee vanilla float?”

“Any memories associated with that?”

“I don’t think so? It just feels right,” Atsumu beams at the mention of Sakusa, and Osamu almost beams too just from seeing the smile on his face.

“Hmm. Hinata?”

“Garlic fried rice.”


“Something sweet and simple? You don’t need to set any particular expectations for it because you know it’s going to be good no matter what, and you’re going to leave feeling full and satisfied.”

“That was a weird way to put it but it sounds about right.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Atsumu smiles.

They talk about many others like Bokuto (oden from oden shops, not the convenience store kinds) and Akaashi (egg tarts and tea) that were highly associated with memory related incidents, and some like Ushijima (mushroom soup and garlic bread, don’t ask, Atsumu said) and Suna (matcha flavoured mochis) that were not memory related. They go through many other examples, and the only conclusion Osamu reaches is that Miya Atsumu is an enigma, and watching from this distance is close enough to see it in all its glory, but a distance that was safe, all things considered. If the price of this ride was minced tuna and spring onion onigiri per breakdown, Osamu was pretty much okay with that.

“What do you associate me with then?” 

Atsumu bares his teeth at Osamu. “Minced tuna and spring onion onigiri!”

Osamu snorts in response. “Still hungry?” He asks, but he’s already making a second one before the reply comes.



(vi) Sakusa Kiyoomi


"Go out with me, Omi-omi," Atsumu breezes, and Sakusa can feel himself freeze under the watchful eyes of the entire Black Jackals team.

A thing you should know is that Sakusa finds joy in consistency, in repeated actions that do not go wrong, in beautiful spikes that go the way they should, because he’s practiced enough for them to work as they should, for his small gears to fit onto the universe gears and spin in harmony, like clockwork, like consistent routines. There are laws in this universe of how things should work and how things should not work, and it is not difficult for Sakusa Kiyoomi to realise, much to his dismay, Miya Atsumu obeys none of them.

Another thing you should know is that, Sakusa prides himself on having many coherent thoughts at all times of the day, but thanks to this feral existence of Miya Atsumu, all thoughts leave his brain, and he is stuck here at this table with everyone watching Atsumu and himself, and the fish ball between his chopsticks is still hanging midair.

“What do you want, Miya,” Sakusa asks, grabbing onto the first coherent thought he manages to hold onto, but as he calms down and the rest of his coherent thoughts begin to return, he realises that is a stupid question. Sakusa curses inwardly.

“I want you to go out with me, like on a date?” Atsumu says, looking at him. 

“Why?” He asks, and he decides that eating the fish ball is wiser than letting it hang midair.

“Because I like you? Like, like you?” Atsumu says.

Sakusa looks at Atsumu incredulously while briefly contemplating strangling him to wipe that smug, nonchalant look off his face. The audacity of this guy. First he aggressively barges his way into Sakusa’s life with no sense of personal space, and then he barges into Sakusa’s heart and demands a place to stay, where he deems off limits for anyone, but since when does Miya Atsumu think about what people deem appropriate and what not, and now he dares to justify his actions with a bold confession on one of the Friday evenings that the Black Jackals gather. 

Sakusa has decided long ago that he likes it all, the audacity of this guy.

“You what?” He still asks, just to make sure. Can never be too cautious, something like that.

“I like you, Omi-omi,” Atsumu says patiently. “I think I might love you if I’m not careful, please date me, please be my boyfriend, we don’t really even have to go out if you don’t want to as long as you say yes, something something.”

Sakusa stares into Atsumu’s eyes. 

“Okay,” he says calmly, because his last coherent thought is telling him that this warm giddy feeling spreading in his stomach means that he has been waiting for the moment for a very long time, and yet, it also tells him if Miya Atsumu has the audacity to look so calm as he tells someone he likes them, or even love, then he does not have the right to feel the satisfaction of watching other people gush about him either.

Finally, much to Sakusa’s satisfaction, Atsumu’s nonchalant facade and his jaw drops. 

Silence ensues.

“That’s it? That was so easy?” Atsumu turns to look at Bokuto once he manages to put his jaw where it should be, asking him, “I did it?”

“You did it!” cheers Hinata and Bokuto, soon joined by everyone on the table that was a Black Jackal member and was not Sakusa. 

They continue to cheer and celebrate, and it doesn’t die down until a long while after. Atsumu puts a hand on his chest and says, “Oh man, I really did that.” He grins at Sakusa. “Thank god you said yes. If you gave me one of those looks like I just drank a mixture of blended avocado, vinegar and yoghurt I might cry.”

“If you’re going to continue to make these terrible food analogies can I reconsider?”

Sakusa is blinded when Atsumu gives him a grin that is best described like cream puffs with cherries on the top. 

“No way, Omi-omi.”