v

“We’re still on for Saturday, right?”

You swallow down the bite of dinner, smiling nervously into the camera. Suna’s got two fries in his mouth, and he’s not looking at you. His gaze focused very carefully on his drawing pad, stylus gripped loosely between his fingers and following the path his wrist sets with care.

It’s just after seven o’clock, but you’d been on the phone since two. He’d clocked quite a few extra hours in the studio this week due to some project deadlines, and you’d dutifully sat on the other end of a facetime call every night. Your own work remains undone, the problem set haunting you from the corner of your desk. You have a draft of a chapter for your writing class up on your monitor, your messy notes open on your laptop. 

You’d been doing that more recently, too. Blatantly ignoring the responsibilities of your major to actually invest in your electives, this one in particular. You’d always been interested in writing, but it’d been more of a passing hobby than anything else. This class – and the encouraging feedback from your professor – had made it scarily real for you in the last few weeks, with a terrible, lingering hope filling you. A terrible hope that this might be what you’ve wanted to do this whole time. A terrible, nagging thought that the unopened problem set on your desk might be indicative of something bigger that you’ve been trying not to acknowledge.

You’re more than happy to set that issue aside to engage Suna’s conversation.

“Saturday?” you say, spooning more of your rice bowl into your mouth while you give him your attention. He only glances at you, eyes dropping to your mouth before flitting toward his own dinner shyly. He shoves nearly half of his burger in his mouth, only snorting when you watch in horror, before nodding.

“‘aturday,” he mumbles plainly, and you have to pull up your calendar because you know that’s all you’re getting.

PUMPKIN PATCH – DON’T FREAK.

Well, that’s not helpful.

Your chest swarms with nerves, and you do your best to appear as though a brick of fear hasn’t just come down over your head.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

He sees right through it, swallowing while he cuts you a disbelieving glance. “You’re so nonchalant and cool.”

You laugh, hiding behind a hand. “Sorry, I’m freaking out.”

“Me, too.”

His honesty is disarming as always. 

“Yeah?”

“Incredibly. But I still wanna do it.”

You purse your lips, warming. “Me, too.”

A beat passes, and then a voice full of fond amusement. “Yeah? You sure?” 

A roll of your eyes, the draw of his laugh when he sees it.

“Yes, Rinnie. I’m sure.”

A sigh of frustration masked as a laugh. “You’re so cruel for that.”

It’s hard to focus on your draft that night.

–

You take a deep breath and exhale slow. Slow. 

Breathe in, turn to look at yourself in the mirror, this way and that. 

Breathe out slow. Slow. 

“It’s okay,” you say to yourself, breathing in slow and then breathing out slower. “It’s okay, it’s Suna.”

It’s Suna, the same boy you’ve been talking to for weeks – months, really. The same boy who’s proven again and again that he’s not like any boy you’ve ever met before. The same boy who’d asked to pick you up this morning, who’d asked to walk entirely out of his way to pick you up for a date. A date that he’d been pushing for since before either of you could consider it one.

“It’s Suna,” you breathe again, forcing yourself to be okay with how your hair looks. “Just a first date. With Suna.” 

There are three quiet knocks on the front door, echoing around your apartment and into your bedroom.

Just a first date with Suna.

You start to sweat almost immediately.

“Okay,” you breathe, fanning your face with nervous hands and walking on shaky legs to your bedroom door. “Okay, I can do this.” You look around the living room as you cross it, making sure the space is tidy and lacking anything potentially embarrassing. You’d already checked five times, but one more couldn’t hurt.

By the time your hand is on the doorknob, your face is burning and your hands are clammy.

The man on the other side of the door doesn’t look much better.

It’s weird, meeting someone you’ve known for months.

The first thing you notice is that he’s tall. You’d known. You’d known he’d be tall, but fuck, he’s tall.

The second thing you notice is that he’s got dark features but light eyes. Green eyes, but black hair, black eyebrows. Green eyes, but inky black eyelashes that flutter over them. You’d known that too, from the photos and the calls, but his eyes are greener and his hair is darker in person. His clothes are just as dark, grey shirt tucked into black jeans and dark plaid flannel thrown over the top.

You notice the piercings and tattoos, too. The lip ring he tugs nervously between his teeth, the uneven number of piercings on his left ear and right ear, glinting in the light of your apartment hallway. The black ink peeking out from under the sleeves of his flannel, dark ink and pale, ringed fingers.

Pale, ringed fingers that are shaking just slightly, wrapped tight around a bouquet of flowers.

He looks exactly the same as he does in his photos – the familiarity is nearly overwhelming – but everything is new, intense. The reality of Suna Rintarou is stronger than it had been before.

“Hi,” you whisper, staring up at him with wide eyes. He stares back, looking just as stunned.

“Hi-” he breathes, cutting short and swallowing hard. You watch his Adam’s apple bob, ink on his throat moving with it. “-pretty girl.”

You’re not sure you’ll survive this day.

You shiver, breaking eye contact nervously and trying not to let the chills that his voice induces run rampant on your skin. “Do…” You glance over your shoulder and then back at him. “D’you wanna come in? For coffee or something?”

You watch his face redden in real time, watch his ears turn pink as he looks away from you. 

He’s as nervous as you are.

“Sure,” he says quietly. “That sounds nice.” He follows you inside, stepping carefully into your foyer and looking around curiously while he takes his shoes off. “I like your place.”

You warm, padding into the kitchen to start making coffee. You’re distracted beyond belief, distracted by the overwhelming sense of Suna’s presence. It only worsens when you glance back to thank him and realize that he’d followed you down the hall. “Oh. Hi.”

His eyes scan your face – your wide eyes and surprised blush – and then he bites down on his lip ring, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Hi. Am I making you nervous?”

Laughter bubbles out of you, and that wave of familiarity returns, washing away some of your anxiety about meeting him. You already know him.

“Maybe,” you tease, nodding back at the bouquet hanging limply in his hand. “But not any more nervous than I’m making you.”

Suna glances down, realizing that his hand is gripped so tight around it that petals are starting to shed off of the flowers onto your floor. “Oh-” He holds out the bouquet, grimacing when more petals float down between you. “This is for you.”

You smile, feeling a swell of giddiness rise in your chest – the one that you’ve always gotten with him, from the moment you started to fall for him. “I have some vases in that cabinet over the fridge,” you say, still grinning stupidly at him. His eyes twinkle, and you know he’s caught the tinge of domesticity in the way you talk to him. “Help me out, 6’3”?”

He sets the bouquet on the counter, never taking his eyes off of you. “Whatever you say, pretty girl.”

Oh, good lord.

You press a clammy hand to your heated face, watching him cross the kitchen toward you. You lean into the corner of the counter when he stops close enough to you that his scent washes over you, warm and comforting and so Suna and new that you have to fight not to gravitate toward him. 

Suna reaches up with ease, pulling the cabinet open and plucking a small vase from inside. He smirks to himself while he does. “Why d’you keep these up here if you can’t reach?”

“So I can get pretty boys like you to do it for me,” you joke, basking in the nervous flutter of those inky black lashes and the sharp cut of those green eyes down to yours.

“Got a lot of pretty boys on your roster?” His voice drips in annoyance, but his face is a lovely pink color and he can’t seem to keep eye contact with you.

“Just one,” you say, your confidence leaving you when he hands over the vase. Your fingers brush against his, and your heart flies to your throat, the nerves unbearable. You turn away, filling the vase with water from the tap and putting far too much care into arranging the bouquet. You feel him behind you, feel his eyes burning through your skin as he takes you in.

“I like your jeans,” is all he says. 

You glance down, taking in the light denim jeans and burnt orange cardigan you’d spent way too much time picking out last night. You’re not the biggest fan of how the jeans fit you, mainly because they’re much more form-fitting than you’re used to, but you’d really wanted to try something new for him. To show him how far you’ve come.

“Thanks,” you whisper nervously. “I’m still getting used to them.” He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a large part of you knows that he doesn’t need to. You can feel his pride from here, washing over you in waves of heat.

You turn back to him, leaning all your weight on the counter so you don’t collapse. “I like your outfit, too.”

His grin is torture, you’re sure of it.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “I tried really hard today.” When you just beam up at him playfully, he sighs in defeat and looks away. He scans over all the things on your fridge, lingering on the polaroids of you with your friends while he speaks. “‘s probably better if we skip the coffee and just go.”

Your face drops, and you blink in confusion. “Why?”

He just smiles in a way that feels self-deprecating, eyes locked on a photo of Alisa and Suga kissing each of your cheeks while you laugh. He swallows, staring down at it with something warm in his gaze. “If we stay here much longer, I’m not gonna wanna leave.”

He has no idea how okay with that you just might be.

Still, he’d promised you a pumpkin patch.

You step toward him, closing the distance and watching as his gaze flits to yours nervously. You press your chest to his while you reach past him for the fridge, pretending you don’t feel his breath stutter or the fingers that brush against your waist.

There’s another photo, just under the one he’d fixated on – it had been taken the same night, just last week in fact. A weeknight when the three of you had decided that bellinis and Breakfast Club could be the only cure to your end-of-semester stress. When Alisa had whipped out a cheap polaroid camera and demanded a photoshoot, when Suga had only been so glad to order delivery for more alcohol and raid your closet for stupid photoshoot outfits. When the three of you had gotten drunk and giddy enough for your newfound confidence – still shy and small and in no small way nurtured by the very man in front of you now – to make an appearance, encouraged in the whoops and hollers of your friends when they’d seen the new you come out.

When you’d climbed drunkenly into Alisa’s lap and let her take a sexy – incredibly blurry, but still sexy – snapshot of you, the memory of Suga cheering in the background while shaking his ass to the end track of Breakfast Club embedded in the glossy film of your smeared lipstick. 

You’d kept the photo, too in love with the memories that had come with it. But you think maybe it would belong better elsewhere.

“Here,” you say, pressing the front of the photo to his chest while you back away, watching with warm ears when he takes it but keeps his eyes on yours. “You can keep that one in your wallet, if you want.”

His eyebrows lift in surprise, but you turn away and move back down the hall before you can watch him look at it. 

Still, the hushed ‘holy shit’ echoes all the way to the foyer while you put your shoes on, and you bite down a laugh.

“Ready to go?” you call, tying up your sneakers and hearing Suna rush unsteadily out of the kitchen. 

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” he calls back distractedly. Glancing up through your lashes, heart pounding in your ears at your own courage, you catch as he tucks the photo away in his wallet, just behind his ID. He folds his wallet carefully and slips it in his front pocket, inked fingers still trembling slightly. 

You walk out after him, locking the door and following him down to the nearest bus stop. He can’t seem to decide if he should stand a friendly distance from you while you wait or if he should press his side against yours, so you linger closer to him to let him know it’s okay. He flushes but steps right up to you, facing you and using his frame to block the wind when he sees how you tense against it. 

You stand in a silence that’s somehow both comforting and unnerving, meeting his eyes and then looking away nervously. He just watches you, lips pulling into a fond smile every few moments before he remembers to smother it. He reaches out to you after a while, running cold fingers over your ears and tapping the tips of his fingers against your done-up hair, grinning when you give him an empty glare.

“I like these,” he mumbles, toying with your dangly pumpkin earrings. His thumb brushes over your jaw and then your cheek, and then he finally drags it lightly against your bottom lip, your lipstick coming off a little on his skin. “Pretty.”

You inhale sharply, head swimming with the feel of his fingers and the smell of him – of his clothes and his cologne. So gentle and warm, yet so goddamn overwhelming.

You look up at him through your lashes, parting your lips just slightly, and his eyes grow wide as he stares down at you. He blinks in surprise, and you’re not totally sure what’s just happened. But his thumb leaves your lip, and you find yourself turning toward it, chasing the feeling for just a moment longer. Chasing him for just a moment longer.

The sound of the bus turning the corner breaks the spell Suna Rintarou’s put you under.

You blink rapidly, taking a small step back and watching Suna swallow hard. His face is redder than you think the wind can be blamed for, but he just turns and holds a hand out to help you onto the bus. Your skin burns where it touches his, and you shyly show the driver your student ID before leading Suna down the aisle, his fingers interlacing with yours the moment you start to pull away.

He’s grinning to himself when you finally choose a seat. You roll your eyes but let him rest your hands in his lap. 

After a moment where he’s checking how many stops are left, he pulls out a pair of corded headphones, holding one out to you.

“Want me to show you my sick music taste?”

You laugh, thankful you’d chosen a seat in the back, because the way you’re looking up at him is nothing short of pathetic.

He unlocks his phone, but it opens immediately to a paused YouTube video of a famous Pokemon gamer streaming a playthrough. You lift your brows, staring up at Suna with knowing eyes. He flushes and hurries to close it out.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I was watching it on my walk over to calm my nerves.”

You giggle and point down to his screen. “Put it on, then.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”

“No, really,” you insist. “Put it on. I wanna watch it.”

He turns to you with wide eyes. “There’s no way in hell you want to watch this.”

You roll your eyes and take his phone, rewinding the video a bit and pressing play. You try to catch up with all the new information while Suna just stares down at you. You hum after a second.

“So, it’s a Nuzlocke?” 

He doesn’t answer you, only blurting out, “You’re the girl of my dreams”. You laugh, glancing around the crowded bus before shaking your head and returning to the video.

“Yeah, you mighta mentioned that once or twice.”

–

The wind is sharp out in the middle of the pumpkin patch, but you can’t tell if your cheeks are red and stinging from that or from the sheer force of smiling so much.

Suna makes you laugh like it’s his job. He whispers quick one-liners in your ear or into your hair, smiling against the crown of your head when you hide your grin behind your hand.

He treats you like a princess, holding your hand so you don’t trip on the vines and uneven ground while you pick out a pumpkin to take home. He carries everything for you, despite your complaints, and makes a point of still holding your hand. 

And when you finally manage to find a large tote bag to shove all your souvenirs into – designated home pumpkin, popcorn, apple cider donuts, and a variety of knick knacks – he all but fights you for possession of it in the middle of the gift shop. You let him win, and as a reward, he keeps his chest pressed against your back while you wait in line for a short hay ride, one hand – fingers cold and rings colder – pressed to your waist under your cardigan, your skin pebbling under his touch.

He leans down to listen to you talk about nothing in particular, and you wonder, as the line trudges slowly along, if he realizes that his other arm is wrapped tight around you, his thumb hooked through one of your belt loops. You wonder if he realizes that the quiet push and pull of mutual nerves that had kept its hold on you all day is finally falling away, his comfort shown in the way he grabs and holds you like you’re his.

You wouldn’t mind that so much.

You finally reach the front, and he helps you up onto the hay ride, the two of you finding a little spot in the corner. Suna sets your bag between his knees but lets it sit right on his feet, the cloth tote never touching the floor of the wagon. You hum, watching him do it.

“Do you have sisters?”

He blinks, glancing at you in surprise. “A younger one, yeah.”

“Are you close with her?”

He smiles, still confused. “Sometimes…?”

You just laugh, looking away and taking in the view outside the ride. “I can tell. You don’t let bags touch the floor.”

He glances down at his feet. “I-” He laughs. “She told me it was bad luck. Smacked me over the head with her purse once.”

You grin fully, your cheeks hurting again, and shake your head. “Not tryna risk any bad luck today, Rinnie?”

He barks out a laugh, hiding his face in your hair when a couple glances back in amusement.

“I’m still not sure how I got you to like me,” he whispers against you. “I’m not risking shit.”

The ride stops outside of a large corn maze, and other people file off of the wagon slowly. You wait until it’s nearly empty to stand, taking him with you, but you stop him from leaving, pulling him back quickly and rising onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“You can afford to risk a little bit more.” 

And then you plant your lips on the corner of his mouth in a kiss so chaste that he barely has time to inhale before you’re gone. You hop off the ride on your own, taking off toward the maze. He calls after you loudly, laughing when you just disappear into a wall of corn.

You race through a whirlwind of corn stalks and trip over the uneven ground, hearing as Suna crashes into the maze behind you. Your heart jumps to your throat, and you lead him deeper into the middle of nowhere, accidentally scaring no fewer than three other groups of people and apologizing quietly while your name echoes behind you. 

You stop after a few minutes in a clearing, instantly regretting the decision to run and doing your best not to pass out right there. You barely hear him behind you, slowing to a stop and watching as you bend over to catch your breath.

“You lost, pretty girl?”

You jump, whirling on one foot, only to find Suna’s already crossed over to you. There’s a smudge of lipstick on the corner of his mouth.

“Okay, listen,” you start, laughing wildly as you back away. “Just listen for a sec-”

He grabs your outstretched hand and yanks you toward him, keeping you there with one arm wrapped around your waist.

“Did you mean that?” he asks, smiling as you try to wriggle free. “That I should risk more?”

“Okay, listen-” you laugh, pushing your hands against his chest. “I was just playing around-”

Suna’s mouth on yours tells you that he’s not.

The chills start in the crown of your head and wash down over you in an instant. Your heart stops in your chest, and when it starts again, it’s everywhere, all at once. His lip ring is cold on your mouth, but his lips are so unbelievably warm. And when he pulls away just enough to whisper to you, his breath triggers every nerve ending in your body.

“Fuck,” he whispers, breath unsteady in his chest. Your head swims at the feeling of his heartbeat under your fingers. “Was that okay?”

You can only nod, your vision hazy and your mind completely blank. He shuffles against you harshly, and you realize belatedly that your bag had slipped off his shoulder and he’d fumbled to catch it.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “Didn’t want to let it touch the ground.”

You stare up at him, wondering how you could have possibly gotten so lucky with Suna Rintarou.

You take his face in your hands, pushing your lips against his and swallowing the quiet whine he breathes into your mouth. 

He pulls you tight against him, and you push onto your tiptoes anytime he starts to lift too high, and he nearly drops you when you tug his lip ring between your teeth, your tongue passing nervously against it when he makes a sound that makes your toes curl. 

You only realize that maybe this isn’t totally appropriate for a family-friendly venue when you hear a family in the distance, trying to figure out the way out of the maze. You push against Suna’s chest, watching as he takes a moment longer to process what’s going on. When he does, all he can do is blink down at you dumbly. 

“Huh?” he breathes, face gradually burning a beautiful, rosy red that makes you want to do terrible things to this man.

You swallow your nerves.

“I think I’m ready to go,” you whisper, watching as confusion and then concern passes over his face. “If you’re ready to go.”

It clicks in an instant, and your heart skips when his eyes flick between yours before dropping to your lips, swollen and warm and completely his.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, glaring at the mop of blond hair until Motoya appeared at his side. “You good?”

Sakusa’s shoulders tensed. “What do you think?”

Motoya laughed and glanced over his shoulder to see what his cousin was staring at. “Worried about Inarizaki?”

Sakusa rolled his eyes. “When have I ever been worried about a game?”

“I heard they’re playing against Karasuno later today. That’s definitely a match I want to see, hopefully we win in straight sets so I can catch it.”

“We will.” Sakusa said before pushing off the wall and heading to the court with Motoya.

His chest heaved with shallow breaths. They were in the middle of their second set. He was kind of disappointed that it was going so smoothly for Itachiyama, he wanted to play against a team that truly challenged him. Weren’t teams supposed to be good to have gotten to this point in nationals?

He stayed away from the rest of his team as they gathered together to celebrate yet another point by Sakusa. His eyes fell on the stands where he had seen Atsumu’s unmistakably hideous hair from the corner of his eye earlier.

There she was, sitting beside Atsumu, their fingers intertwined as their hands rested on his lap. She rolled her eyes with a smile on her lips, then she turned to the court and stared right into Sakusa’s eyes.

He couldn’t look away. He should be embarrassed that he was caught staring, but then again, her eyes didn’t move away from him either. He could see even with the distance between them that her lips were parted, both of them refusing to cut the eye contact short.

Atsumu’s arm came up around her shoulders, making Sakusa snap back to reality. She’s Atsumu’s girlfriend. He had no business pining after a taken girl he didn’t even know if he would see again.

He focused back on the game, patting Komori’s back once they won as he quickly headed straight to his bag to pull on his jacket. He allowed himself one more glance to the stands, but his new crush wasn’t there anymore.

He pretended that he didn’t want to go with Komori to watch the Karasuno vs Inarizaki game, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as they walked up to the stands. Komori gasped and left Sakusa behind to lean against the railing just as Karasuno scored.

Sakusa’s eyes were immediately drawn to her. She sat beside Inarizaki’s coach, engulfed in a maroon jacket at least a size too big for her, because of course Miya’s girlfriend is their team manager.

Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth as she watched the game, holding a clipboard to her chest. She looked genuinely worried as she shared a look with the coach. He glanced at the score, Karasuno had already taken a set from them, but the current score favored Inarizaki. He glanced at Komori, who was spectating the match with wide eyes, not paying attention at all to him.

He stayed there with his cousin until the third set, realizing the longer he watched Karasuno play just how they managed to beat Shiratorizawa. He still resented that he would not get to play against Ushijima.

His eyes still darted to her after each point, watching her clap her hands together when Inarizaki scored or press her lips into a thin line when Karasuno did. He cursed under his breath when he realized he was smiling. Thank goodness he was wearing his mask. He had a reputation to keep.

The smile was wiped from his lips at the sight of her tears when Inarizaki lost. She covered her face with her hands and rested her elbows on her knees. He didn’t realize he was frowning until Komori poked his bicep and teased him about not getting to play against Inarizaki anymore. He was half right, that would’ve been his chance to see their pretty manager up close, but he was also upset to see her wipe her tears away before Atsumu ran over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I’m grabbing something to eat.” He murmured, leaving his cousin’s teasing remarks unanswered as he turned around and left. That was the last time he saw her in the tournament.

Sakusa, naturally, was visibly confused when the following year, a red head was perched on Atsumu’s arm instead of her.

The pair stood against the wall, leaning close as he whispered something that made her laugh and turn her head away. Her makeup was perfectly done, lips sporting a maroon lipstick suspiciously similar to the color smeared on Atsumu’s lips. Her laugh was high pitched and made him slightly wince when he walked past them.

He turned around to join his team again, but the universe was cruel enough to make him stumble into her. His arm wrapped around her waist almost instinctively when he noticed she was about to fall. Her hands darted to grab onto his jacket.

She looked up at him, eyes widened when she realized who she had bumped into. A nervous laugh left her as she stabilized herself and let go of him. “I’m so sorry, Sakusa.”

He tilted his head in silent question, as if it was so strange that she knew his name. He was one of the top 3 spikers, of course she knew who he was. Sakusa scowled at his own cockiness almost immediately. In his defense, she was a manager, it was kind of her job to know these things.

“It’s fine.” He replied curtly. Seriously? The first time he talks to her and that’s all he says? He heard her sniff as she took a step back, the sound making him frown. “Are you okay?”

Her lips parted, as if her true feelings were on the tip of her tongue, then she paused. She nodded unconvincingly instead. “I am. Sorry, again.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets to hold back the urge to touch her again as she walked past him. A year without seeing her did not make him like this girl any less. If anything, knowing that she was single, only made him grow hopeful. Not that he would talk to her, clearly he had no idea what to say even if he grew the balls to walk up to her.

“Huh,” Komori appeared beside him. “Was that Inarizaki’s manager? She’s pretty.” Sakusa’s head turned around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash and glared at his cousin, who held his hands up in defense. “Damn, my bad.” He laughed. “She’s all yours, Kiyo.”

He glanced at the back of her head again. If only she really was.

Sakusa either had the best or the worst luck in his life.

He stood at the entrance of the MSBY gym, freshly showered after practice, frozen in place with his mask in his hands when he met a very familiar pair of eyes. He hadn’t seen her since their third year of high school, when Inarizaki lost against Itachiyama in the semi-finals. She was wearing an oversized Onigiri Miya shirt and leggings, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the wall.

Her lips curled into a small smile, a strand of hair falling on her face when she tilted her head to the side. “Hey, rookie. Almost didn’t believe ‘Tsumu when he told me ya signed with MSBY.”

Her smile slipped when he didn’t respond. He simply stared at her, eyebrows furrowed.

She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze to the ground. “Um… do ya think Tsumu and Bo are gonna come out anytime soon or are they gettin’ in more practice before that match y’all got next week?”

His eyes widened. When Atsumu spoke, he felt like a hammer was repeatedly hitting his skull. Hearing her voice for the first time in years… Kansai dialect had never sounded hotter.

“Who knows with those two.” He murmured, reaching up to put on his mask, as if that would hide the redness on his cheeks. “You know you can go in there, right?”

“Don’t wanna risk one of ‘em accidentally flashin’ me.”

Sakusa raised an eyebrow and slowly stepped toward her, shortening the distance between them. “Has it happened before?”

Her laughter had him feeling like that sixteen year old boy that hated himself for liking the pretty Inarizaki manager, when he turned to look at her just because she had laughed and it sounded like the music that would receive him in the gates of heaven. Just how pathetic was he to still feel his heart race at the same sound that made him fall for her? It had been years.

Before she could answer him with what must be an embarrassing story from before he joined the team, Bokuto shrieked her name as he ran past Sakusa and scooped her up in his arms. Her laugh echoed now as she was spun around, her hands holding tightly onto the silver haired man’s broad shoulders.

He heard Atsumu, but he didn’t react in time to duck away before the setter was slapping a hand on his back. “Thought ya were home already, Omi-omi.”

He cringed, both from the hand still on his back and the horrible nickname Atsumu still used just because he knew Sakusa hated it.

“Wait, home?” She asked, coming up to Atsumu’s side to hug him. “Ain’t ya comin’ to Meian’s with the others?”

Atsumu shook his head, answering for Sakusa. “He said he would rather die than spend more than the necessary time with the team.”

“No, I was just talking about you, Miya.” He rolled his eyes, his hair falling in front of his face before he raised a hand to push it back. He made a mental note to get a haircut soon.

“Y’should really come, gettin’ to know your new team ‘n all. Are ya gonna say no to all the onigiri I’ve been makin’ all afternoon with ‘Samu?”

She had to know what she was doing. She had to know that the way she was staring up at him expectantly, eyes wide and bottom lip slightly sticking out, was going to make him say yes.

He pressed his lips into a thin line as the rest of the team started coming out of the gym.

“I guess I can go at least for a couple of hours.”

Her smile would be the death of him.

Sakusa had no idea what possessed him to lean down and shut her up with a kiss. She looked so adorable offering him her guest room, rambling on when he didn’t answer because he was short circuiting. He didn’t even think it through, one moment he was staring at her lips and the next he was pressing his own against them.

Her lips were just as soft as he had imagined. His heart was racing in his chest and his dick hardening in his pants as he picked her up to sit her on the counter. He looked at her eyes, forcing himself to stare into them just so he wouldn’t drool and make a fool out of himself just from watching her legs spreading open to accommodate him.

His fingers curled into fists to hold back from touching her any further. This is not how he wanted things to go tonight. He just wanted to walk her to her apartment so he could leave to his aunt’s place knowing she was safe. He wanted to ask her on a proper date, to wine and dine her, to make this relationship real. He wanted to walk her to her apartment after their date, just like tonight, and kiss her in the doorway before asking her out on a second date, and then a third, and then a fourth.

Of course, that was only a fantasy. In reality, their dates would probably have months in between them, they wouldn’t even get to a second date after she realized a real long distance relationship wouldn’t work.

But the way she was staring up at him with eyes full of lust nearly made him cave in, nearly made him forget they didn’t live in the same city, or even the same prefecture. He stood there, lips a breath away from hers, as he tried to force himself to take a step back.

She pulled him toward her, her lips firm against his, all hesitation gone out the window. He forgot all the reasons why he kept holding her at arm’s length and pulled her flush with his chest. He groaned against her lips as she arched into him.

He had to stop. He had to push her away again before they got hurt. He couldn’t be the same asshole he knows Atsumu was with her.

The hand on her back moved up until his fingers were tangled with her hair and gently tugged. He realized she wasn’t relenting and pulled harder. He could swear he heard her moaning just as their lips parted and he could finally breathe again, the sound going straight to his painfully hard dick.

He stared at her parted, kiss-swollen lips, then forced himself to look into her eyes and the words started pouring out of his lips before he could hold them back.

He took a step back to put distance between them before he let himself think with the wrong head. His eyes fell on their cups and he grabbed them to place them in the sink.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you in the first place. I’m sorry.” He murmured. He wanted to do it right, he wanted to tell her he truly liked her– not that he would mention he’s been looking at her from afar for years, but he did want to be a gentleman, even if it was old fashioned of him to not kiss before the first date.

He shook his head. “I made a mistake.” He winced as soon as the words came out. “This isn’t right.” He tried again, but it was just as bad. Fuck, that’s not what he wanted to say. He probably made it even worse, if her sudden silence was anything to go by. “Listen, I’m not the best at explaining myself–“

“Ya said plenty, Sakusa.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the hurt in her tone. He had really outdone himself, hadn’t he? He’s even back to just Sakusa.

He stared at her for a moment longer. It didn’t seem the right moment to confess his feelings, she had already asked him to leave once. He wasn’t going to force himself in her space any longer. So, with a single nod of his head, he turned and headed to the genkan to slip his shoes back on and he left, forcing himself to walk away even when he heard her muffled sniff through the closed door.

being single was not exactly a choice on her part, it was more of a consequence of her demanding job as one of the best wedding planner in tokyo. her parents asked constantly if she was at least speaking with anyone romantically and when she would give them grandchildren. they pressured her to the point that she lied to them about having a boyfriend so they would leave her alone, only for them to say they want to meet him at her best friend’s wedding. time to come clean! or… find a fake boyfriend to keep her parents happy?

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