miya atsumu x nonchalant smart girlfriend except they love eachother very much
cw: LOTS of petnames, atsumu is a loser, memes used, disregard timestamps, may be ooc, my first smau beware, and fluff + crack,
a/n: i miss haikyuu bye, also im uploading this on my computer to fit image limit rather than my phone and i feel like a REAL goon because i feel like im broadcasting to the whole world just me Ok Thanks.
atsumu miya has a crush on you and spends weeks being jealous over suna. the only issue is that suna is your cousin.
most people notice you during your first week.
inarizaki isn’t the kind of school where a new student quietly blends into the background, and it certainly isn’t the kind of place where someone can start showing up to volleyball practices without at least a few curious looks from the team.
it starts small.
you linger near the gym after school one afternoon, leaning against the bleachers while practice runs on below you, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the court and volleyballs smacking against the floor echoing through the high ceiling of the gym.
from your perspective, it’s nothing special.
just somewhere to spend time while waiting for practice to end.
from atsumu’s perspective, however, you are a brand new and extremely distracting problem.
he notices you the second time you show up.
at first he assumes you’re just another student passing through, someone who will disappear after a day or two like most people do once they realize volleyball practice isn’t exactly thrilling to watch for hours at a time.
but then you show up again.
and again.
and eventually it becomes clear that you’re not just wandering in randomly— you’re staying, watching, sometimes chatting with the coach when he happens to wander over to the bleachers during breaks.
you’re surprisingly easy to talk to.
atsumu learns that within the first week, mostly because you have absolutely no problem calling him out when he says something dumb, which happens more often than he’d like to admit.
the conversations start casually enough.
someone introduces you after practice one day, tossing your name into the conversation while everyone’s grabbing their bags and arguing about who completely ruined the last drill.
you laugh at something he says.
not the polite kind of laugh people usually give him, either— the kind that sounds a little too genuine to be fake.
it catches him off guard enough that he ends up talking to you again the next day, and then again after that, until the whole thing becomes oddly normal.
atsumu finds himself looking for you without meaning to.
just quick glances toward the bleachers while drills reset, brief moments where he checks to see if you showed up yet before practice actually starts.
he doesn’t think too hard about why.
he just assumes you’re easy company, someone interesting enough to talk to when things get boring.
which is why the first time he notices you sitting beside suna, something about it bothers him in a way he can’t quite explain.
it happens on a completely normal afternoon, the kind where practice has dragged on longer than expected and half the team is already exhausted.
during a break between drills, atsumu glances toward the bleachers the same way he usually does, expecting to see you leaning against the railing or scrolling through your phone.
instead he finds you sitting a little lower down than usual, suna leaning casually against the seat beside you while the two of you talk.
you hold your phone up for him to see something.
he snorts at whatever it is.
you grin in response, nudging his arm like you’ve known each other for years.
atsumu turns back toward the court before anyone notices him staring.
he tells himself it doesn’t mean anything.
after all, there’s no reason for it to.
you’ve been hanging around the team for weeks now, and suna talks to practically everyone with the same bored expression he always wears.
the logical conclusion should be that you’re just friends.
unfortunately, atsumu’s brain does not land on the logical conclusion.
instead it lands on a much more irritating one.
because in his very humble opinion, you are far too pretty to be related to that ugly creature.
which means the only explanation that makes sense— at least from where he’s standing— is that you probably like him.
suna.
the thought sits in the back of his mind for the rest of practice, quietly annoying him every time he glances toward the bleachers and sees the two of you still talking.
none of it should matter.
and yet it somehow does.
from that point on, the whole situation becomes increasingly irritating for reasons atsumu refuses to examine too closely.
he notices every time you sit beside suna during lunch.
he notices every time you laugh at something he says.
he notices the casual way the two of you interact, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
and because atsumu miya is not particularly skilled at handling feelings he doesn’t understand, the irritation starts slipping into his behavior in ways that are… difficult to miss.
the first time it happens, practice is winding down for the day and half the team is scattered around the court collecting stray balls.
you’re sitting on the lower bleachers again, suna standing beside you with one foot resting on the seat while you show him a funny video on your phone.
he makes a quiet noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh.
you grin up at him.
atsumu walks past just in time to see the two of you leaning close together.
he slows down slightly, looking between you with an expression that suggests he’s already decided he doesn’t like whatever is happening.
then he says, loud enough for most of the gym to hear,
“wow. didn’t realize this was a date.”
the reaction is immediate.
you blink at him like you’re not entirely sure what you just heard, while suna sighs in the long-suffering way of someone who already knows exactly where this is going.
he drags a hand down his face before muttering something that sounds suspiciously like a threat.
you, on the other hand, are still staring at atsumu with open confusion, trying to figure out why someone who had been perfectly normal to talk to for the past few weeks suddenly sounds like he’s picking a fight.
from atsumu’s perspective, however, the situation is perfectly justified.
after all, if you’re going to flirt with suna right in front of him, the least you could do is be subtle about it.
the fact that absolutely no one else seems to agree with this logic does very little to stop him from continuing down this path.
and unfortunately for everyone involved, this is only the beginning of a misunderstanding that is about to get much, much worse.
osamu learns this the hard way somewhere around midnight.
the problem with sharing a room with your twin brother is that there is absolutely nowhere to escape when he decides he has something on his mind.
the room is dark except for the faint glow of the streetlight leaking through the thin curtains, the quiet hum of cicadas outside blending with the occasional sound of cars passing down the road. osamu has already been lying in bed for a while, eyes closed, breathing slow in the way that usually means he’s halfway to sleep.
and unfortunately for him, atsumu is still very awake.
and, more importantly, very bothered.
the top bunk creaks loudly when he shifts for what feels like the hundredth time that night, the frame rattling just enough that osamu’s eye twitches even before the inevitable complaining begins.
“i’m just sayin’,” atsumu mutters into the darkness above him, voice carrying easily across the room, “it doesn’t make sense.”
osamu does not open his eyes.
experience has taught him that engaging with this kind of nonsense only encourages it.
“like, logically speakin’, it makes zero sense,” atsumu continues, clearly warming up now that he’s started talking. “because if ya really think about it, there’s absolutely no reason she’d even look at suna like that.”
osamu exhales slowly through his nose.
the silence that follows is his final attempt at pretending this conversation does not exist.
it does not work.
“i mean, have ya seen him?” atsumu adds, sounding increasingly offended the longer he talks about it. “the guy walks around lookin’ like he just woke up from a three-day nap. half the time he doesn’t even know what’s goin’ on— like does he even know he exists?”
osamu opens one eye.
“…'tsumu.”
atsumu ignores him completely.
“and don’t even get me started on the hair,” he continues, voice rising slightly as he gestures wildly despite the fact that no one can actually see him. the bunk above shifts again as he flops onto his back. “like seriously, what even is that? the man looks like a depressed mushroom.”
osamu shuts his eye again.
“…go to sleep.”
“i’m bein’ serious!” atsumu protests immediately, the top bunk creaking again as he rolls over and peers down toward the lower bed. “she’s way too pretty to even be standin’ near him, let alone laughin’ at his stupid jokes like that.”
that sentence hangs in the air for a second.
osamu processes it slowly.
then he rolls onto his back and finally turns his head toward the underside of the top bunk.
“wait,” he says, voice still thick with sleep, “yer still complainin’ about that girl?”
atsumu shifts above him, clearly irritated by the implication.
“i’m not complainin’.”
osamu stares up at the wooden slats of the bunk bed.
“…yer complainin’.”
“i’m makin’ an observation.”
“it’s midnight.”
“that don’t make the observation wrong.”
osamu drags a hand over his face, already regretting every decision that led him to respond.
“atsumu,” he says slowly, “why do ya even care?”
the question lands exactly the way it should.
because suddenly atsumu goes quiet.
not for long.
just long enough that the answer becomes painfully obvious.
“i don’t care,” he says quickly.
osamu lets out a tired laugh.
“sure.”
the mattress above creaks again as atsumu shifts, clearly annoyed now.
“i just think it’s weird,” he insists. “like if ya had to pick between me and suna, the answer should be pretty obvious.”
osamu turns his head slightly on the pillow.
“…she ain’t pickin’ between ya.”
atsumu scoffs from somewhere above him.
“yeah well she should be.”
“that ain’t how it works.”
“why not?”
“because she ain’t even talkin’ to ya right now,” osamu replies flatly, already settling back into his pillow. “she’s talkin’ to suna.”
that statement does not help.
at all.
“exactly!” atsumu snaps, the top bunk rattling when he pushes himself up. “that’s the problem!”
osamu groans quietly.
“how is that a problem?”
“because she’s wastin’ her time!” atsumu says, sounding personally offended by the entire situation. “i’m literally right there and she’s talkin’ to him instead.”
osamu blinks slowly in the dark.
“…atsumu.”
“what.”
“…do ya hear yerself.”
“yeah.”
“ya sound insane.”
“i sound correct.”
osamu stares up at the underside of the top bunk above him for a long moment, clearly debating whether it’s worth continuing this conversation.
unfortunately for him, atsumu is not done.
“like seriously,” atsumu continues, now fully committed to the rant, his voice drifting down from the top bunk. “if she’s gonna like someone on the team, it should obviously be me.”
osamu turns his head again.
“…ya do realize she might not like anyone.”
atsumu goes quiet for a second.
“…nah.”
“what d’ya mean ‘nah’.”
“she definitely likes someone.”
“based on what.”
atsumu gestures vaguely in the darkness, the movement making the bunk creak again.
“vibes.”
osamu lets out a long, exhausted sigh before rolling onto his side again.
“yer an idiot.”
“i’m right.”
“yer jealous.”
“i’m not jealous!”
the denial comes so quickly that osamu doesn’t even have to see his brother’s face to know he’s lying.
“…atsumu,” he says patiently, staring at the wall now, “if ya spent half as much time talkin’ to her as ya do complainin’ about suna, this wouldn’t even be a problem.”
there’s a pause.
then atsumu scoffs loudly from above.
“why would i talk to her when she’s obviously into that guy?”
osamu blinks slowly.
“…have ya tried askin’.”
“i don’t need to ask,” atsumu says confidently.
“why not.”
“because it’s obvious.”
another long pause fills the room.
then osamu sighs again, louder this time.
“ya know what,” he mutters, pulling his blanket higher over his shoulder, “i hope she does like suna.”
atsumu sits up immediately on the top bunk, the entire frame creaking in protest.
“what?!”
“just to spite ya.”
“ya can’t say that!”
“i just did.”
"take that back right now. don't jinx me asshole."
"as if she'd ever want yer dumbass anyway. yer too ugly."
atsumu makes a noise somewhere between outrage and betrayal while osamu closes his eyes again, already resigning himself to another hour of listening to his brother complain about a problem that could very easily be solved with one normal conversation.
unfortunately, normal conversations have never been atsumu’s strong suit.
and if tonight’s rant is anything to go by—
this situation is only going to get worse.
because the next afternoon, miya atsumu is back to being insufferable.
practice is halfway through when you arrive, the gym already loud with the familiar rhythm of volleyballs hitting the court and sneakers squeaking across the floor. the air smells faintly like sweat and the rubber of the polished wood, the kind of atmosphere you’ve grown strangely used to over the past few weeks of hanging around after school.
you slip into your usual spot on the bleachers without much thought, dropping your bag beside you while the team finishes a set.
it doesn’t take long for suna to wander over.
he collapses onto the seat beside you during the break like he’s been awake for three days straight, expression as blank as always while you pass him the drink you grabbed on your way to the gym.
“practice that bad?” you ask.
he shrugs, twisting the cap open.
“atsumu’s setting.”
you snort quietly at that.
“isn’t that always the case?”
suna takes a sip, clearly unimpressed with both the drink and the situation.
“exactly.”
you’re in the middle of showing him something on your phone when a shadow falls across the bleachers.
you don’t have to look up to know who it is.
“you again.” atsumu says, voice carrying just enough sarcasm to cut through the gym noise.
you glance up slowly.
he’s standing a few steps below the bleachers, volleyball tucked under one arm, looking between you and suna like he’s personally offended by the concept of the two of you existing in the same space.
“…hi to you too,” you say flatly.
suna doesn’t even look up.
“don't you have better things to do other than being the most annoying person alive?”
atsumu ignores him.
instead he gestures vaguely toward the two of you with the ball.
“practice is still goin’, y’know,” he adds, 'clearly' talking to suna although he's glancing at you. “kinda weird how certain people keep showin’ up just to watch.”
suna blinks at him. “you mean like… spectators?”
“i mean like people who clearly got better things to do.”
you stare at him for a moment, trying to decide whether he’s being serious.
“…what?”
atsumu’s grin falters for exactly half a second before he scoffs.
“what, ya thought that was about you?”
you stare at him.
“you were literally looking right at me.”
he shrugs, completely unfazed.
“i got a lazy eye sometimes.”
you blink.
“…you don’t.”
he tilts his head, expression suddenly offended.
“wow.”
you cross your arms.
“wow what?”
“now yer just bein’ ableist.”
you stare at him harder.
for a moment you genuinely consider the possibility that he might be serious, that somewhere in the past thirty seconds atsumu miya has suddenly developed a medical condition that only manifests when he says something stupid.
unfortunately, the smug look on his face makes it very clear that this is not the case.
“…you cannot just pretend you have a disability because you got caught being rude,” you say slowly, the words leaving your mouth with the careful patience of someone explaining something extremely obvious.
atsumu gasps like you’ve personally insulted his entire family line.
“see?” he says immediately, pointing at you like you just proved his point. “that right there. discrimination.”
you blink at him.
then you blink again.
because somehow the conversation has derailed so dramatically that you’re no longer even sure what the original point was.
“that’s not discrimination,” you reply flatly.
“it absolutely is.”
“it’s not.”
“yer dismissin’ my lived experience.”
you stare at him for a long moment, trying very hard to figure out how someone can sound this confident while saying something so aggressively stupid.
“…your lived experience,” you repeat slowly.
he nods once, completely serious.
“exactly.”
“your lived experience of having a lazy eye.”
“sometimes.”
you gesture vaguely toward his face.
“which you do not have.”
atsumu crosses his arms, expression turning stubborn in the way that suggests he’s already decided he’s right and will not be reconsidering that decision any time soon.
“woah. okay,” he mutters again.
you squint at him.
“what now.”
“can’t believe ya’d say that.”
“say what?”
“deny someone’s condition like that.”
you drag a hand down your face.
“you made it up thirty seconds ago.”
“that don’t make it less real.”
the silence that follows is heavy.
mostly because you’re trying very hard not to laugh.
or scream.
or both.
next to you both, suna finally speaks.
“atsumu,” he says without looking up from your phone, his voice as flat as always, “you're embarrassing yourself.”
atsumu turns immediately.
“i’m defendin’ myself.”
“from what.”
“ableism.”
suna slowly lifts his head.
the two of them stare at each other for a moment.
then suna turns back to you.
“…see what i deal with.”
you let out a quiet breath through your nose.
“i’m starting to.”
atsumu scoffs loudly, clearly offended that neither of you are taking him seriously.
“whatever,” he mutters, pushing off the bleachers and turning toward the court again. “some people just can’t handle the truth.”
you watch him go, arms still crossed.
“…he cannot be a real person,” you say after a moment.
suna shrugs beside you.
“unfortunately he is.”
you hum faintly, leaning back against the bleachers as practice resumes, your eyes drifting away from the court for a moment.
because honestly—
miya atsumu might be one of the most irritating people you’ve ever met.
he’s loud.
dramatic.
constantly making comments that sound suspiciously like insults.
half the time it feels like he wakes up in the morning and decides that annoying you specifically will be the highlight of his day.
which is why it’s so inconvenient that, every now and then, you catch glimpses of a completely different version of him.
moments that make you pause and reconsider things you’d much rather keep simple.
the first time it happens in some hallway, you’re standing near the vending machines during lunch break, staring at the row of drinks like they'd massacred your bloodline.
the machine has already swallowed your coins.
the drink you wanted is stuck halfway down the spiral.
and you’re seriously considering kicking the thing when someone speaks behind you.
“ya gonna fight it or just stand there glaring at it?”
you turn.
atsumu is leaning casually against the wall a few feet away, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket like he’s been standing there for a while.
you narrow your eyes immediately.
“don’t start.”
he raises both hands slightly in mock surrender, though the corner of his mouth twitches with amusement.
“relax, i’m just askin’.”
you look back at the machine.
the drink is still stubbornly lodged in place.
“…it ate my money.”
atsumu glances at the vending machine, then at the stuck bottle, and finally back at you.
something about the situation seems to amuse him more than it probably should.
“hold on,” he says, stepping forward.
before you can question what he’s doing, he crouches slightly and gives the side of the machine a firm shove.
the entire thing rattles loudly.
you stare at him.
“…did you just assault the vending machine?”
“i’m negotiatin’.”
he nudges it once more.
the bottle drops into the tray with a soft thud.
you blink.
“…oh.”
atsumu grabs it before you can reach down, tossing it lightly toward you.
you catch it automatically.
“there,” he says, brushing his hands together like he’s accomplished something impressive. “problem solved.”
you twist the cap open, still watching him suspiciously.
“you didn’t even insult me once during that entire interaction.”
“don’t get used to it.”
he pushes himself back against the wall again, looking oddly pleased with himself.
the conversation drifts from there without much effort.
he complains about practice.
you complain about one of your teachers.
he makes a dramatic comment about how school should be illegal before noon.
you laugh despite yourself.
it’s easy.
surprisingly easy.
and that’s the annoying part.
because the more moments like that happen, the harder it becomes to keep thinking of him as just the loud idiot who picks fights with you every time you sit beside suna.
sometimes you run into him during breaks between classes, both of you stopping near the hallway windows while the crowds move past.
sometimes he appears beside you in the cafeteria line and immediately starts complaining about the food like you personally cooked it.
sometimes he drops into the empty seat across from you in the library with absolutely no warning, tapping his pencil against the desk while asking what you’re working on.
those moments are different.
quieter.
more relaxed.
and during those times, atsumu is funny in a way that catches you off guard.
confident in a way that somehow manages to be charming instead of annoying.
he teases you, but the comments don’t feel sharp the way they do when the rest of the team is around.
you start to notice the small things about him during those conversations.
the way his grin spreads slowly when he says something he knows will get a reaction out of you.
the way he leans forward slightly when you’re explaining something like he’s actually listening.
the way he laughs when you manage to insult him back.
and slowly, without you really realizing when it started—
you begin to look forward to those little moments more than you probably should.
which makes it all the more confusing when the second suna appears anywhere nearby— atsumu turns right back into the most insufferable person you’ve ever met.
his tone sharpens.
his comments turn sarcastic again.
the relaxed version of him disappears so quickly it almost feels like you imagined it.
and every time it happens, you’re left standing there wondering how the same person can act like two completely different people depending on who else is in the room.
unfortunately, the more time you spend around him, the more one thing becomes painfully clear.
because despite how annoying atsumu miya is—
you’re starting to think you might actually like him a little.
and unfortunately, the more time passes, the harder it becomes to ignore the fact that something about miya atsumu makes absolutely no sense.
because the shift happens too quickly every single time.
one minute he’s normal— the next minute he’s making another stupid comment from across the gym, acting like you talking to suna is somehow a personal attack on him.
at first it’s confusing.
then it becomes irritating.
and eventually, it becomes completely unbearable.
and at this point, you’re tired.
tired of the weird looks.
tired of the comments.
tired of the way he acts like he has something to prove every time you’re within three feet of suna.
so when it happens again one afternoon, you don’t even bother pretending it doesn’t bother you.
practice has just ended, the gym buzzing with the usual post-practice chaos while people grab their bags and argue about where to get food.
you’re standing near the bleachers talking to suna when atsumu walks past.
he slows just enough to glance between the two of you.
his mouth twists slightly.
he mutters, loud enough to be heard. “you two inseparable or somethin’?”
something in your chest finally snaps.
you don’t even think about it.
you grab his sleeve before he can walk away.
atsumu blinks in surprise when you yank him back toward the hallway outside the gym, the door swinging shut behind you with a quiet thud.
the sudden quiet feels strange after the noise inside.
he stares at you.
you stare right back.
“…what?” he asks.
you fold your arms tightly.
“what is your problem?”
atsumu’s eyebrows lift slightly.
“i don’t have a problem.”
“you absolutely have a problem,” you snap, frustration spilling out faster than you can stop it. “every time i talk to suna you suddenly act like the biggest jerk on the planet.”
he scoffs.
“i’m not actin’ like a jerk.”
“you literally just did it again!”
“i made a comment.”
“it was a rude comment.”
“it wasn’t rude.”
you stare at him in disbelief.
“you are unbelievable.”
atsumu crosses his arms now too, clearly irritated that this conversation is happening at all.
“why do ya even care?”
the question hits harder than you expect.
because unfortunately, you do care.
and you’re tired of pretending you don’t.
“because you’re nice to me when we’re alone,” you blurt out, the words escaping before you can reconsider them. “and then the second anyone else shows up you act like you hate me.”
for a second, atsumu just stares at you.
you push forward before he can respond.
“you’re funny when we talk during breaks, and you help me with stupid things like vending machines, and you actually listen when we’re talking,” you continue, the frustration that’s been building for weeks finally spilling over. “but then the second suna walks into the room you start being an asshole again and i’m honestly so tired of trying to figure out what your deal is.”
the hallway falls quiet.
atsumu blinks.
“…wait.”
you gesture vaguely toward the gym door.
“you act like me talking to him is some kind of crime.”
“well yeah,” he says automatically.
you stare at him.
“…what.”
atsumu looks almost confused by your reaction, like the answer should be obvious.
“because ya clearly like him.”
the words hang in the air for a moment.
you blink.
once.
twice.
“…i’m sorry,” you say slowly. “what?”
he gestures toward the gym again.
“suna.”
“yes, i know who you mean.”
“ya talk to him all the time.”
you stare at him in complete disbelief.
“…atsumu.”
“what.”
“of course i talk to him all the time.”
“exactly!”
“because he’s my cousin.”
the silence that follows is immediate.
atsumu freezes.
completely.
his expression goes blank in the most spectacular way possible.
“…your what.”
you stare at him.
“my cousin.”
another long pause stretches between you.
atsumu processes the information slowly.
painfully slowly.
“like,” he says after a moment, “yer actually related.”
“yes.”
“biologically.”
“yes, atsumu.”
he stares at the gym door.
then back at you.
then back at the gym door again.
somewhere inside, someone laughs loudly.
outside in the hallway, atsumu looks like his brain has completely short-circuited.
“…you’re serious.”
“why would i lie about that?”
he opens his mouth.
closes it again.
you watch the realization spread across his face in real time.
the weeks of comments.
the jealousy.
the entire mental narrative he apparently invented.
all of it collapses at once.
atsumu groans loudly, dropping his head back against the wall like the universe personally betrayed him.
“this is the worst day of my life.”
you stare at him for a moment longer, the anger that dragged you out here still simmering somewhere in your chest, though now it’s starting to mix with something dangerously close to disbelief.
“…you thought i liked my cousin.”
atsumu drags both hands down his face.
“in my defense—”
“there is no defense for that!”
“yer always with him!”
“because we are related!”
he exhales sharply, looking genuinely pained now, like every memory from the past few weeks is replaying in his head all at once.
the comments.
the glares.
the entire jealous meltdown he apparently decided was a reasonable response.
“…i’m actually gonna transfer schools,” he mutters.
you blink.
“you’re not transferring schools.”
“i might have to.”
“you’re the one who decided i was flirting with my cousin.”
“i didn’t know he was yer cousin!”
“you could have asked!”
atsumu points at you weakly.
“i thought it was obvious!”
“what part of that was obvious?!”
he hesitates.
then he gestures vaguely in your direction.
“…you were laughin’ at his jokes.”
you stare at him.
for a long moment neither of you says anything.
then you press your fingers to your temples.
“atsumu,” you say slowly, “that man has the personality of an inanimate object.”
“hey!”
“i’m related to him, i’m allowed to say that.”
he huffs quietly, looking vaguely offended on suna’s behalf before reality catches up with him again. (even though he spends every night slandering suna while osamu listens against his will)
the hallway falls quiet.
the frustration that dragged you out here is still there, but now it’s tangled up with something else entirely.
because despite how stupid this whole situation is— there’s still one very important problem.
you look at him.
he’s still leaning against the wall, staring somewhere near the floor like he’s trying to figure out how to undo the past several weeks of being a jealous idiot.
“…so,” you say after a moment.
he glances up.
“so what.”
you cross your arms.
“you thought i liked suna.”
“…yeah.”
“which is why you’ve been acting like a jerk this whole time.”
he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
“…wasn’t my best moment.”
you stare at him.
then you sigh.
“you are unbelievable.”
“i’ve heard that.. 'samu tells me all the time.”
another quiet moment passes between you.
then you look at him again, narrowing your eyes slightly.
“…so why did you even care.”
the question hangs in the air.
this time atsumu doesn’t answer right away.
he shifts slightly against the wall, clearly aware that there is only one honest response to that question.
“…because i thought you liked him,” he says.
you wait.
“…and?”
he exhales through his nose.
then he finally looks directly at you.
“because i like you.”
the words come out more casually than you expect, like he’s just stating an obvious fact.
you blink.
“…what.”
atsumu shrugs slightly, though there’s a faint flush creeping up the back of his neck now.
“i mean it’s kinda obvious,” he says. “why d’ya think i was so annoyed all the time.”
you stare at him.
“because you’re insane.”
“that too.”
“atsumu.”
“what.”
“you have spent the past several weeks being passive aggressive toward me because you thought i liked my cousin.” you repeat your point again, in hopes of atsumu realizing how deranged it is.
“well,” he mutters, rubbing his neck again, “in hindsight that wasn’t my best strategy.”
you let out a breath.
the frustration is still there.
but underneath it—
your heart is doing something very inconvenient.
“…you are the dumbest person i have ever met,” you say.
atsumu grins slightly.
“and yet.”
you narrow your eyes.
“don’t get cocky.”
you stare at him for another moment.
then you shake your head.
“…you liked me.”
“yeah.”
“this whole time.”
“pretty much.”
“and your solution was to pick fights with me.”
“i was jealous!”
“of my cousin.”
he winces slightly.
“yeah, that part’s not great.”
you exhale slowly.
then, despite everything— you start laughing.
atsumu watches you carefully.
“…that’s a good laugh, right.”
you shake your head.
“i cannot believe you.”
“so is that a no.”
you look at him again.
really look at him this time.
the same idiot who helped you fight a vending machine.
the same idiot who makes you laugh during school breaks.
the same idiot who apparently spent weeks being jealous over something completely imaginary.
you sigh.
“…you’re lucky you’re charming when we’re alone.”
his grin widens immediately.
“so that’s a yes.”
“don’t make me regret this.”
“too late.”
you roll your eyes.
but you don’t walk away.
and that, apparently, is answer enough.
requested by: @collectionofcannedsoups
atsumju is the stupidest person on the planet i swear 😭😭😭😭😭 hes so cute i need to eat him rn
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