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Hitoka frowns at her phone. Shouyo hadn’t exactly been overexcited for this date, but the guy had seemed interested and not obviously a creep, so she and Tadashi had encouraged him to go for it. It's not like boyfriends just pop up out of nowhere, after all, and she wanted to be supportive and if Shouyo wanted a boyfriend (which, he'd uncharacteristically told the two of them in a very meek manner, he did. He thought so, anyway).
Judging by the texts, it looks like he hasn't turned up. There could be loads of reasons for that! Traffic, a random emergency but... Apparently, Shouyo has heard nothing at all.
Hitoka sighs heavily. Osamu, only just entering the room, raises his eyebrow. He doesn't even have to ask.
"So I said about Shouyo– Hinata," she adds, at the glimpse of confusion she spies. Osamu nods, sitting himself down next to her, their arms brushing. "Well, he—and please don't tell anyone—he got a date with this one guy, and he's gone but the guy hasn't turned up!"
Osamu hums, leaning into her to look at the texts himself. Hitoka can’t help but blush, tilting the phone so it’s easier for him to see. They’ve only been living together for a few months, and it’s still surprising when he gets close to her; most of the time she hardly believes she’s got such a nice boyfriend. Shimizu tells her off when she tells her that she thinks that though, so she tries not to. How on earth she ever got lucky enough for this, she actually doesn’t know.
But this isn’t about her, right now, she has a friend in need! She’s about to suggest waiting just a little longer then coming over here for dinner instead, when Osamu plucks her phone out of her hands.
“Wait, Miya-kun–!” Hitoka starts, reaching for her phone once more. Osamu catches both her hands in one of his (they are huge, his hands, she could look at them for hours. She digresses).
“It’s Osamu, Hitoka-chan. And I think I can sort this, I just need Hinata to hold on for a while.”
“Sorry,” Hitoka adds. She’s trying, she really is. It’s just… difficult. It had taken three years with Shouyo. Two with Tadashi. She still hasn’t really mustered the courage to use Tsukishima’s or Kageyama’s first names yet, and she’s not sure she ever will. Osamu squeezes her hands in wordless forgiveness as he types awkwardly with the other. Hitoka takes a breath and squashes herself into his side to see what he’s typing, but he holds it away from her.
“You’ll see in a minute,” he remarks instead. Hitoka finally clocks the other part of his sentence.
“Wait, what do you mean, Miya– Osamu-kun,” she hastily corrects. He quirks a brief smile, so it’s definitely worth it. “How can you sort it? I was going to say he could come over here if the man doesn’t turn up, but that would be such a shame, Shouyo put so much effort into it, and he was really nervous about it! I hadn’t seen him as nervous about anything other than volleyball…”
“You have a moping friend, who happens to be male. I have a mopey gay brother. Between the two of us, this could solve two problems.”
Hitoka has met Atsumu, Osamu’s twin. He’s blunt, a little intense, a setter, and very into volleyball, although almost everyone she knows from high school or via Osamu are, to varying degrees. Apparently, he’s also gay.
Well, Shouyo can certainly deal with a blunt, intense setter, if high school is anything to go by. Atsumu seems a little more… socially at ease than Kageyama though, so perhaps it could work…
Osamu gives her phone back, and she looks at the text ‘she’ has sent Shouyo.
>> someone will arrive soon, please wait for them, i’ll let you know when they’re coming
Shouyo has already replied with a multitude of question marks and a ‘Yacchan???’, clearly recognising that the text doesn’t look like her at all. Osamu is busy on his phone, presumably texting his brother.
“How do you know he’ll go, though?” Hitoka asks. Osamu flashes her a smug grin.
“I know this man. Promise him a free dinner and a few pudding cups, and he’ll do pretty much anything. Not that he’ll take much persuading.”
Twins, Hitoka thinks to herself. Amazing, but kind of scary. Almost makes her glad she’s an only child.
‘Yacchan’, Shouyo texts morosely, 'he's not here'
It's only a second later when Hitoka texts back, clearly watching her phone closely.
<< 'Yet! I'm sure he'll turn up!'
She’s added a little emoji clenching its fist and looking determined. He smiles, briefly.
But Shouyo is getting gradually more despondent about the prospects. It’s not really like he went for anyone specific, but if you agree to meet up, then you should meet up, or at least tell them why...
Nothing in the app. Nothing on the texts. Not even a reply to Shouyo's texts asking where he is.
Leaning back, he droops his head over the back of the chair and sighs gloomily. What was the point in coming at all if he’s going to get stood up? Why even show interest, if this is the result? He only kind of wants a boyfriend. He just thought it might be nice, after having seen Tanaka and Shimizu at their wedding. He’d had a few flings in Brazil, but nothing serious at all. He’s not even really sure he wants ‘serious’.
Urgh, he could have done so many other things with his time rather than sitting here waiting, probably getting looks from the other customers. The waitress has already asked him if he wants to order three times, it’s nearly half an hour after the time they agreed to meet, and Shouyo is regretting even bothering at all.
Yeah, boyfriends don’t grow on trees, but he doesn’t really need one, does he? He could just– not. Between the team and his other friends, he manages.
The phone buzzes on the table just when he’s given up. It’s not from the guy—Nakajima—but from Yacchan.
<< someone will arrive soon, please wait for them, we’ll let you know when they’re coming
It doesn’t have a smiley or emojis, which is a bit weird from Hitoka. He’s already fired back some confused question marks when he thinks about the message again… ‘someone will arrive soon’. What’s that meant to mean?
Is she—or whoever has taken her phone—setting him up with someone else? Isn’t that a little… He huffs. Flicking to the time on his phone, he makes a decision, based almost solely on the fact that it’s Hitoka, that he’ll wait twenty minutes, and if they’re not here by then, he’ll order a meal to go, take it home and mope.
<< Osamu-kun took my phone, but please wait! They’re on their way!
And a grinning emoji. Osamu… Atsumu’s twin, isn’t it? He works in an onigiri restaurant, so maybe he knows people through that, or maybe Hitoka thought of someone. Either way, he’ll begrudgingly wait. Maybe he’ll try and get a free meal out of this if it doesn’t work out. He’s not exactly hoping for much.
When the waiter next turns up, Shouyo orders a drink and tells them he should be able to order soon, and sets to playing a puzzle game on his phone to take his concentration off the outside world for a bit.
“A little bird told me you were in need of a better date.”
A pretty familiar voice, although not in this context. Shouyo looks up, and sure enough, the voice matches the face before him: one Miya Atsumu, smiling confidently. He’s slightly out of breath, and surprisingly dressed up—if you could call a suit jacket and nice trousers over a T-shirt ‘dressed up’—but it’s more effort than Shouyo would have expected from anyone in his situation.
Even knowing that Osamu was Atsumu’s twin, somehow he’d not actually considered Atsumu to be the one invited. Presumably, it’s just as a friendly thing, but Shouyo doesn’t really care right now, smiling sheepishly and putting his phone away. He’ll let Hitoka know in a bit.
“Ha, maybe. They didn’t turn up, so I was about to give up…”
“Well, sucks to be them, missing out on this,” Atsumu remarks, sliding into the seat across from Shouyo and grabbing a menu. “I was gonna get ramen, but this looks way better!”
Missing out? Shouyo thinks to himself, puzzled, but he’s cut off by the waitress appearing at the side of the table, smiling.
“I’m glad to see he turned up,” she says, sounding genuinely happy. Shouyo flashes her a grin, not bothered to correct the assumption. Atsumu is likely only here because Osamu offered him something. He’s going to enjoy himself, because he likes Atsumu, but there’s nothing else here. Atsumu is his teammate, after all.
Once she’s taken Atsumu’s order and left, he leans on the table, smiling, although not quite the normal one. More like the one he makes when he’s about to tease Bokuto or Sakusa, but still not quite that either; something about it worms its way under Shouyo’s skin, although he doesn’t think it’s unpleasant, just… new. He’s not really sure what that feeling is, but maybe he’ll find out over the course of this evening.
“Say, Shouyo,” Atsumu murmurs, pointedly dropping any honorific. Somehow, Shouyo doesn’t think it’s intended to be an insult at all. “Let’s pretend we’re not teammates tonight, ‘kay? Make it interesting.”
Shouyo feels his eyes widen in surprise, before smiling. It works for him well enough, although he’s unable to ask before the waitress returns to take their orders—if they’re not teammates sitting across from each other, what are they pretending to be?
Hitoka chews at the pad of her thumb nervously. They’re watching a show, but she’s hardly focusing. A large part of that is that Shouyo had sent one single text to say that Atsumu had arrived, and nothing else, and she can’t help but worry.
They’re teammates, so hopefully they get on? Hitoka’s never really seen them together off-court, so she wouldn’t know. Wouldn’t it be a problem if it didn’t work out? Maybe they can both be professional about it and make it work with the team. She hopes so, because Shouyo seems so happy and lively with the Black Jackals, it’s a joy to watch. Being there, being chosen for games, it finally feels like Shouyo knows he has the ability and continues to prove himself without having to fight for approval. He’s settled into his confidence as a player and a person; something Hitoka doesn’t think would be erased easily, but still…
For Osamu to suggest the two of them meet up implies that he doesn’t think quite as lowly of his brother as he claims to, but she’s still nervous about it. Part of her wishes Shouyo would text, another part only wants an update afterwards that it went well, because if it’s going well he wouldn’t be looking at his phone, right? But her heart can’t take the waiting.
The other reason she can hardly focus is Osamu’s arm slung casually over her shoulders, pulling her in. It’s intoxicating, but unnerving. Is she moving too much? Will he think that she’s uncomfortable? She kind of is, but she doesn’t know if it’s okay to relax into his side or not. She kind of wants to swing her legs across his and sit across him, but he really likes this show, maybe he wants her to watch it? But she can’t focus anyway, what if he asks her about it after, what will she say to him then? What if he gets upset that she didn’t watch and they have an argument?!
“Hitoka-chan?” His voice jolts her out of her spiralling thoughts literally, as she jumps. No, she was told about this, rationalising and not catastrophising. Osamu isn’t the kind of person to get so uptight about a show. He knows that she’s concerned about Shouyo, so maybe he’ll let her off for being distracted.
“Miy– Osamu-kun!” she corrects herself hastily, after a flicker of irritation. How daft to be so worked up about calling him by his first name—he’s probably more used to that then his family name, considering how he grew up as a twin. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention…” She bows her head, even though her inner therapist voice, installed gradually over several sessions, remarks blithely that she needn’t be so concerned about her lack of interest.
“Hm? It’s fine, I didn’t think you were into this kind of show anyway…” he says, at which Hitoka blinks, then mentally slaps herself. How could she doubt him so easily! They’ve got to this point, after all, and Osamu does think of her quite a bit, he’s shown that. “You just looked uncomfortable.”
He noticed? She should have hidden it better. No, that inner voice states firmly, it’s okay to be uncomfortable and it’s okay to say it.
“I, er, a little, I suppose…” she stutters, subconsciously bowing her head a little more. Urgh, he’s going to get fed up of this, why is she like this?!
The arm around her shoulder lifts up, and she panics.
“No! I mean, that is, I’m not uncomfortable with this, I just, a slightly different position?” she tries, her voice all over the place, her face red. Why is honesty so difficult! Osamu pauses for a moment, his arm hanging awkwardly in the air.
“Then, if you wanna arrange yourself or whatever? Don’t want you hurting,” he says, and gosh, Hitoka could cry sometimes. He’s so nice in such an offhand, easy way, that it’s hard to ignore. It’s the best kind of niceness for her, really.
“Okay, just… give me a second,” she requests. He’s giving her free reign. He won’t be upset, he’s not that petty (to her, anyway… his brother is another matter). It doesn’t matter if she’s facing away from the TV, he’s not expecting her to watch it really, and she can play on her phone; equally, his presence is comforting, so she does want to stay here. So maybe…
She shifts around so her back is to him, and leans back into him, shuffling until she’s comfortable, her knees up and her feet squashed into the arm of the sofa. His arm is still hanging in the air in question; she draws it down to lie on her chest, looped around her neck such that his elbow is resting at her sternum. It is comfortable, she thinks, and pleasing, the faint smell of his aftershave and the ever-present scent of rice and soy sauce, the safety of his arm around her.
She feels him press his lips gently to the crown of her head, and just manages to retain a gleeful squeak. A little discomfort was worth it for this, she thinks.
Hopefully, the same theory will work out for Shouyo.
Shouyo, meanwhile, is laughing merrily as he exits the restaurant. It’s a bit later than expected, but Atsumu had been eyeing the dessert course with the enthusiasm of a starved man, even having just eaten, so they’d both picked something and shared. Shouyo prefers savoury food, although he is partial to a few sweets occasionally, so he let Atsumu think he was sneaky enough to take a little more than his fair share, enjoying the look of pure bliss on his face when he took a bite.
It’s not so much that talk of volleyball hadn’t been on the table, but he feels like he’s learnt more about Atsumu the person, rather than just as a teammate. There’s a pleasing rumble within him, something he normally only gets from really good plays and games; a little odd, but far from unpleasant.
He’s almost glad Nakajima didn’t turn up, he’s had such a good time. But Atsumu lives the other way; even though they’ll see each other tomorrow at training, it feels like a minor tragedy to part here. Shouyo wants to keep laughing with him. What is that, anyway?
Atsumu turns in the direction of Shouyo’s apartment, though.
“Isn’t your place that way?” Shouyo asks, waving vaguely in the completely opposite direction, puzzled.
“Mmm…” Atsumu shrugs, a whole-body thing, languid and easy. He catches Shouyo’s eye, then looks away. “Feel like a walk,” he explains. Shouyo’s not going to refuse, even if it does confuse him, because he’s had fun and he’s not quite ready to let it go just yet. It’s not that far away anyway, only fifteen minutes or so.
The walk goes fast, the conversation between them easy. Shouyo wants to hold onto it, even though he can’t quite pin down why. It’s not like he’ll never see Atsumu again—tomorrow, for instance—but this just feels different to practice and team dinners and press events. Atsumu feels more alive, a smile in his eyes evident as he makes a joke and looks over at Shouyo. Not that he’s ever been one dimensional, but it’s like Shouyo has finally been able to see him in full colour, so close that he cannot help but see all the details he’s always missed.
He’s not quite sure why that feels so important to him right now.
Yet all too soon, they land on Shouyo’s doorstep. Shouyo should just say thank you and bid him good night, but something makes him hold his tongue. Atsumu seems to hesitate, hands in his pockets, before he does speak.
“Was I a good date then, Shouyo?” he asks, but there’s an edge there, a vulnerability. He’s watching Shouyo closely, such that Shouyo feels seen in an entirely new way than on the volleyball court, than in front of a camera.
“Yeah! Thank you, I know Yacchan probably asked Osamu-san to ask you, but I had a great time! I’m not going to message that guy again,” Shouyo babbles, strangely nervous. There’s a certain energy here that he hardly knows what to do with, his nerves on an electrifying knife edge. Atsumu raises an eyebrow.
“You better not,” Atsumu starts, oddly irritated. Although Shouyo wasn’t really thinking it would go that far; they’d not exactly hit it off completely on the app, but well enough for him to agree to a date. Considering this result, he can’t be too mad, but he’s certainly not directing any of that gratefulness towards Nakajima, should he ever get back in contact. Shouyo thinks he’s going to block him as soon as he gets back on his phone. After he’s updated Hitoka, of course—she’s more worthy of his time. “Even if ‘Samu hadn’t asked me, to be honest…” Atsumu trails off, eyes flitting about. “If you’d asked me to go out with you anyway, I prob’ly woulda said yes.”
Shouyo has never felt quite so much like he’s on a rollercoaster when his two feet are firmly planted on the ground. Winning a point, a game is one thing, entirely separate; this is quite different.
He’s never considered teammates as anything other than teammates, really. It’s certainly helped in the past, separating them from anything else, and as such, he’s never even entertained the thought of dating a teammate. He’s always been so focused on volleyball that the thought of dating never really crossed his mind, and never long enough to even think about dating anyone, let alone a teammate. In Brazil, the language barrier, the need for money, the loneliness—all these things had made him see more value in relationships in general, outside of volleyball. Since then, he’s thought about it more, but mentally, there’s always been a blank on thinking about teammates in any non-platonic way.
He’s thinking about it now, though. Because in front of him isn’t Miya Atsumu, a teammate. Before him stands Miya Atsumu, the man who came to fill in a date for him, with no warning, maybe because of a bribe or a deal, but he still came. Miya Atsumu, who eats every spoon of pudding as though it’s his last. Miya Atsumu, who Shouyo is only now considering the existence of outside of volleyball.
Normally he’d shut it down swiftly, and move onto something else. But like a broken record, his brain skips back to that thought, and keeps returning. Atsumu has asked him, unconsciously, to consider him as more.
Moreover, Shouyo kind of wants to.
“Well, then,” he starts, then clears his throat, his heart trying to jump out of it. “Do you want to pick the place for next time?”
There is a starburst in Atsumu’s eyes as he grins. Shouyo thinks he would be happy to be the cause of that expression again. Atsumu sweeps him into an elated hug, tight enough to strain Shouyo’s breath—or maybe that’s just a side effect of the glee.
“I know a place you’ll love,” Atsumu whispers in his ear, and Shouyo has no doubt about that.
After one last hug, he nigh-on skips off down the corridor, pausing at the end to wave to Shouyo once more, Shouyo grabs his phone to text Hitoka.
‘I think I got a second date!’ he sends, forgetting to consider the other person near to Hitoka’s phone; he is reminded moments later though, when a swift response pings up on his screen.
‘you make him happy’
Shouyo isn’t sure if it’s a comment or a threat, but either way, he hopes it’ll be true.