You felt like you were doing everything right, when it came to him. You brought him good luck charms before games and made him playlists and held his hand on the way to school and you would come over and help his mother make dinner and Osamu, at the very least, tolerated you and would make polite conversation with you whenever you were around. 

Atsumu told you he loved you after a few months of dating. He said it in on a shaky bus ride, your hands interlocked and your head on his shoulder. You didn't say anything for a second, because you didn't want to cry on a bus that early in the morning. But when you found your voice, you eventually said it too. 

It was perfect, Atsumu and you. He gave you a necklace with his initials, and you wore it every day. 

You went and cheered him on during the Nationals in your second year. You wore his sweatshirt and you cried when they lost. You imagined him crying in your arms and you kissing the top of his head and telling him that it was okay, that he could come back again and get his revenge. By the time you found him, he did not look like he needed consoling. 

The person he was talking to was tall and pretty, and wearing this terrible neon jacket. You couldn't hear what they were talking about as you approached, but Atsumu spotted you and his face brightened. His eyes were rimmed red like he had been crying, but he grinned. He grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into his side, arm over your shoulder and he said, "Omi, this is my girlfriend," like he was bragging. 

Atsumu didn't look at you when he said it. He stared Omi directly in the eye, challenging him. Omi didn't look at you either. If it weren't for Atsumu's arm aorund you, it would be as if you weren't even there. 

"Don't show her off like she's some kind of toy you won," Omi spat at Atsumu. And with that, he turned on his heel, hands stuffed in the pockets of his terrible jacket, and walked away. You blinked. You never even told him your name. 

Later, you and Atsumu sat on the floor of his room, your back against the wall and your legs outstretched onto his lap. "I didn't like your friend," you said, quiet and unsure, like if you didn't know if you were allowed to or not. 

"Hmm? Which one?" Atsumu asked. He had one hand on your ankle, fingers tapping rhythmically on your skin. 

"The one you called Omi," you told him, looking at your entagled legs and not at him. "He was rude." 

"Nah," Atsumu said easily and quickly. "He's just like that. You start to like him once you get used to him." 

You didn't talk about him again. Sometimes you would see his name pop up on Atsumu's phone and he would turn his screen away from you to answer, but you didn't talk about it again. 

You got older. Atsumu kept winning volleyball matches and you kept getting good grades to get into your dream university in Tokyo. Things stayed the same. Atsumu told you he loved you every night and you said the same. High school passed. Atsumu signed to MSBY. You got accepted. He left for Osaka, and you left for Tokyo. 

It was hard, at first. There were a lot of times you felt like you wanted to give up, because the distance wasn't something you were used to and you were convinced it was something you could never get used to. Your studies were hard and it was harder being so lonely. But every time you felt like you were done, Atsumu was there. Taking the train to see you, calling you, being there in any way he could. Atsumu always did his best to be there. 

It felt different than it did in high school. It felt more real, somehow. Like before what you were doing was just some kind of make-believe, just pretend. Now it felt like Atsumu was more than just a boyfriend - it felt like he was a partner. You started to take him and yourself more seriously. You started to take everything more seriously. 

Atsumu would mention you in post-match interviews and post pictures of your visits together and he would talk about how proud of you he was and how much he loved you, like he wanted everyone to know. You wore his initials around your neck and told all your friends about him and when you called your mother every week she would ask when you two were finally going to get married. 

"Atsumu," you whispered into his chest on one of your visits down to Osaka. You had just watched him win a match and instead of going out with his team, he laid in his bed with you and ran a hand down your spine. "Do you see a future with me?" you asked. 

He made a humming noise that you felt rattle in his chest. "I can't see a future without you." 

You moved to Osaka, when you graduated. You wanted to be with Atsumu and you wanted to start that future that he had spoke of, so you said goodbye to your friends and promised to visit and you got on the train. 

If it was hard to be separated, it was harder to come back together. Things were odd at first, living together. You had gotten used to university life and Atsumu had grown accustomed to living alone. You felt like it was hard for him, at first, to make space for you. 

You argued about stupid things. About where to put dishes and who was responsible for folding the laundry and who's turn it was to mop the floors. You argued about bigger things, too. Like how Atsumu thought you felt like you were too good for him and his career just because you went to university and got your degree. Like how you thought Atsumu didn't want to make space for you in his life and only wanted you when it was convenient. Things were hard. 

But it was you and Atsumu. You two just made sense. You two were right for each other. So you worked things out. You made it okay. Atsumu adjusted, you adjusted. You made it okay. 

It was around the time that you moved to Osaka that Sakusa Kiyoomi came back into the picture, joining MSBY as their new outside hitter. And you got the feeling, the same feeling that you got when you were sixteen, that Sakusa did not like you. 

It was in the way his hard gaze lingered on you when you greeted Atsumu post match, watching carefully and critically as his arms went around your waist and yours around his neck. It was in the way he whispered something to himself and pulled his mask over his face whenever you spoke while you were out drinking with the team. It was in the way Sakusa Kiyoomi never once bothered to say your name; you weren't sure he ever bothered to learn it. 

You didn't know what it was. Bokuto liked you. Hinata liked you. Meian and Inunaki liked you. Everyone liked you but him. And for a second you thought it was just Atsumu that Sakusa had a problem with, and he was taking it out on you. But Sakusa seemed to like Atsumu just fine. He looked Atsumu in the eyes when he spoke to him. He let Atsumu clap his shoulder and hold onto it while he laughed. Sometimes you would find them, bodies close to each other and whispering before pulling apart at the sight of you. 

"I just don't know what the fuck his problem with me is," you had complained with muffled words to Atsumu as you brushed your teeth next to him, like you had probably hundreds of times before. "Like, why does he look at me like he wants me dead?" 

"He doesn't baby," Atsumu said, spitting into the sink. "He's just like that. You gotta trust me." 

Atsumu kissed your head before he turned to walk out of the bathroom. "Going to bed, love you." 

You felt stupid when you realized it. Like you should've known this whole time. 

Maybe there was some part of you that knew what you were doing when you arrived home from work early. Maybe you knew what you were doing when you quietly removed your shoes and crept towards the bedroom more carefully than usual. Maybe you already knew what was behind that closed door. 

You opened it anyways. 

It still shocked you. 

It still made you feel like the world had dissolved under your feet. Like something horrible and painful was growing in your stomach and spreading up to your chest. It still made you feel sick. 

Atsumu was hovering over him, blocking his body with his own bare back. But when he heard you enter, he jumped away, and revealed to you the naked and bare Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

You don't know why, but you didn't look at Atsumu. You didn't look at Atsumu when he crawled out of that bed, your bed, and rushed towards you. You didn't look at Atsumu when he placed himself in front of you and put his hands on your shoulders and said, "Baby, it's not what it looks like, okay? Baby, please look at me. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Please look at me. Can we talk about this? Can you talk to me?" 

You just stared at Sakusa. You stared at him and his shocked, pained expression, like he had any right to be, and it clicked in your head. All the looks and the whispering and the tension. From the very first second he met you, Sakusa Kiyoomi has hated you, because you were taking Atsumu from him. You thought you might vomit.

Atsumu was still pleading, was still making his case like he wasn't standing in front of you, naked and reeking of sex, like there was any chance left to salvage this. Like there was anything left to salvage. 

And as much as you wanted to scream and hit him and destroy the home you had built together, you just couldn't do it. You felt like you couldn't do anything. You took a deep breath, and without saying anything, you removed Atsumu's hands from your shoulders, and you turned around and left. You left the apartment and you left him behind and Atsumu made no effort to follow you. 

You didn't cry until you were on the train back to Tokyo. You let out guttural, body-wrecking sobs and people looked at you and no one said anything and you just sat there and cried and you didn't know what you were going to do. You thought, you'd figure it out, once you got to Tokyo. 

You would get there and you would cry some more and you would figure out how to live a life without Miya Atsumu. You ripped his initials off your neck, and left them on the floor of the train.