A/N: I'm posting some twitter threads on here to preserve them! Enjoy!
Maybe it's a little mean- when Sakusa's staring at Atsumu through the doorway of Atsumu's bedroom like he's been burned, the silence stretching between them after Sakusa's confession, and Atsumu's first words are, "Are you kidding?"
Sakusa slams the door in his face.
Atsumu doesn't go after him, even though he knows that there's not many places for Sakusa to hide in their shared house. Even if Sakusa holed himself up in his own room, Atsumu knows he would probably hear Bokuto or Shouyou's "Omi-Omi!" the minute he left it.
Atsumu doesn't go after him, because he's not sure what he would even say. Apologize? Well, Atsumu thinks his honest confusion is a bit fucking warranted, to say the least.
"Miya," Sakusa says through gritted teeth. "I...I think I like you."
Sakusa didn't even have the decency to look pleased with the fact that he was confessing to Atsumu. He looked like he'd rather die than say the words out loud, but he had lost whatever violent battle he was having in his own head.
Atsumu has gotten many confessions, most being in high school when his volleyball team had their own fan club. Every confession included letters, chocolates, sweet words, nervous smiles. They didn't include the person looking ill with their displeasure at their own words.
Atsumu stares at his closed door for a long time, and tries to make sense of this.
He's noticed, maybe, that Sakusa has been voluntarily spending more of his time with Atsumu lately.
Atsumu caught him in Onigiri Miya last week, sitting at the counter chatting with Osamu, looking up at Atsumu's arrival like he expected him to show up. Sakusa didn't stay more than five more minutes, but the conversation hadn't been as scathing as normal.
And then there were those few times this month that Sakusa made some vague comments about wanting to stay late to practice, and Atsumu latched onto it and stayed back with him. Atsumu's reasons were mostly volleyball- and maybe the delight of riling up Sakusa.
There's even that one time just a few days ago when Sakusa had a second cup of coffee prepared when Atsumu woke up and went into the kitchen. Sakusa- still sleep-soft and amenable- grabbed Atsumu's wrist when he reached for the cup and said, "It's still too hot. Wait a second."
Now that had been surprising to Atsumu, because Sakusa never touched him, like ever, and if he did it was by accident or one of those post-win highs when the players high-fived and Sakusa momentarily forgot his own aversion to other people.
If Atsumu thinks that moment in the kitchen had lodged itself firmly in his brain as a 'what the fuck' moment, this- this confession takes the cake. Atsumu thinks about it in the shower, while he gets dressed, while he goes on a run to clear his head. It doesn't help at all.
He thinks about it some more in his long, second shower after his run. He thinks about it while he makes himself lunch. He thinks about it when he glances down the hall and still sees Sakusa's door firmly shut. Maybe Sakusa had left during his run, but he doesn't think so.
As Atsumu thinks and thinks and thinks, his emotions range from surprise to confusion and then morph into anger. Who is Sakusa to drop this bomb on him? Who is Sakusa to storm out like a child afterwards? Who is Sakusa to flip Atsumu's whole perception of him upside down?
Who is Sakusa to make Atsumu replay every single interaction they've ever had since high school and reevaluate what all of those moments meant? As Atsumu sits on his bed and does just that, he thinks- no, a lot of those times were hatred. Or hatred adjacent.
They have never truly gotten along. They come together on the court beautifully, but Atsumu assumes that it's both of their competitiveness bringing out the best in them. Off the court, they bicker about everything. If Atsumu thinks one thing, Sakusa thinks the exact opposite.
If Atsumu likes to crank the AC up, Sakusa mutters curses under his breath as he turns on the heat instead. If Sakusa insists on everyone keeping their food labeled and on different shelves, Atsumu places his unlabeled containers on Sakusa's shelf just to fuck with him.
Atsumu is a twin- he's used to pushing. It's Sakusa's fault for always pushing back, which is exactly what Atsumu had been missing since moving out at eighteen. While it's frustrating when Sakusa fucks with him, he's excited when he can push back. It's kind of fun, he admits.
But what does it say about Sakusa if all of their nasty pushing and pulling has apparently manifested into Sakusa liking Atsumu? And worse, liking Atsumu enough that he felt the need to confess?
What does it say about Atsumu that he can't stop fucking thinking about it?
Atsumu still hasn't made sense of it when dinner rolls around. Sakusa doesn't come out of his room to eat with them.
"Is he sick, maybe?" Shouyou asks, sounding worried. Even if Sakusa is an avoidant sonuvabitch, he typically comes to "family dinner", named by Bokuto.
He normally eats his own prepared food after wiping down his place setting with a strong smelling disinfectant wipe, so lemony it practically ruins Atsumu's own appetite, but he still mostly always comes.
Atsumu can't take the concern on Shouyou's face.
"Lemme bring the bastard some food," Atsumu says, getting up. "He'll starve to death by accident."
He's that stubborn, Atsumu wants to add, but he really has no room to talk. Sakusa must be simmering in his own embarrassment, but Atsumu imagines he'd feel the same.
Atsumu carefully unwraps some onigiri that Sakusa had picked up from Onigiri Miya at some point in the week and places it on a clean plate, also making sure to add some umeboshi on the side that Sakusa had in a tupperware container. All perfectly labeled.
He then walks down the hall to Sakusa's room. He keeps his footsteps light, and when he stops in front of the door he presses his ear to it and hears some video presumably playing on Sakusa's phone. When he leans back and knocks, three quick raps, the noise cuts off.
"Hey," Atsumu presses close to the door to say, so the others in the dining room can't overhear. "You're freakin' Shouyou-kun out. I brought ya some food so either eat it in your room or come to dinner."
There's no reply. Atsumu's sighs in irritation.
"Are you five? Open up."
No reply.
Atsumu closes his eyes briefly, wondering how the fuck he got here. When Sakusa first joined the team, Atsumu wouldn't have imagined that he would wait outside Sakusa's door holding food, pleading with him to eat. Atsumu wonders when he started caring.
He wonders when Sakusa started caring. He thinks about it, because of course he does, and he can't think of a single salient moment between them that must've been Sakusa's 'ah-hah' moment. Maybe those feelings were always there, buried underneath their biting remarks.
It's just- Atsumu has gotten used to Sakusa being around. He realizes it now, as Sakusa's absence at dinner seems noticeable. He sees Sakusa in the mornings, at practice, at games, in the evenings, all of the time- everywhere, always.
At first, Sakusa was like a fixture on the wall. Only noticeable when Atsumu wanted to mess with him. But now, it's like Sakusa has weaved himself into Atsumu's daily routine. Maybe you can't spend that much time with someone and continue to dislike them with the same vitriol.
Maybe Atsumu never truly disliked him, not really. He goes out of his way to be around Sakusa too, doesn't he? He pushes until Sakusa has no choice but to give him attention. Maybe Atsumu has always craved it; maybe Atsumu feels empty now that Sakusa isn't giving it to him.
Maybe Atsumu has always known that Sakusa is beautiful in a way that he tries to ignore. His assessing eyes, so cold that Atsumu feels a chill when Sakusa looks at him. His body stretching while he spikes, or his shoulders curving inward. His slender fingers adjusting his mask.
Atsumu feels something like a loss, now that he can't look. Atsumu has always looked his fill, unappreciative of what he was truly seeing. He was always around a lot of beautiful people in his line of work, so he didn't care at first. Now, he cares more than he knew he could.
Sakusa's beauty was easy to ignore when they were fighting. He could look, but not really notice that he was interested. However, now that Sakusa has flipped Atsumu's entire world view upside down, Atsumu is forced to confront that maybe he had been seeing things all wrong.
Maybe it's not just pushing and pulling, maybe it's something else too.
Maybe Sakusa feels the same way, fighting for that attention more than he would with anyone else, and has just been self-aware of it longer than Atsumu has.
Maybe he understands Sakusa's displeasure with his confession; they don't like admitting that they've been wrong.
Atsumu sighs again. He leans his shoulder and head against the door.
"You caught me off guard," Atsumu tries again, even quieter. He's not sure if Sakusa can even hear him. "I thought you were fucking with me." Atsumu winces at his own words. Still, he presses on.
"I mean, imagine if I came to you and said that. You'd probably throw up. I just- I didn't know."
No reply.
Atsumu closes his eyes. "But I want to. Know- I mean. 'Cause I'm kinda freaking out and having all of these crazy revelations and I need to know if you are too."
Finally, finally, Atsumu hears the rustling of Sakusa's thick, meticulously clean and white comforter and then heavy footsteps. He moves slightly back from the door just as Sakusa cracks it open. He just sees Sakusa's face, and his hard eyes.
"Don't do that," Sakusa mutters at him, voice low. "Don't say whatever stupid shit comes to mind because you're easily impressionable. That's-" Sakusa cuts himself off, looking mad. "I'd rather you just laughed in my face again."
"First of all, I didn't laugh at you."
Sakusa looks angrier, and Atsumu meets him with his own glare.
"I didn't, you asshole. And second, I'm not just sayin' what I'm sayin' because I think it's what you want to hear, or whatever. You know I'm not that fucking nice."
Sakusa's eyes drift briefly to the plate in Atsumu's hand and then back at his eyes. His eyes narrow, as if to say 'then why are you bringing me food?'.
"This," Atsumu tries to explain, "is because you're being a huge baby right now. What, do I have to potty train you too?"
Sakusa's nose wrinkles in disgust, but he doesn't say anything. His smoldering eyes continue boring into Atsumu's.
Atsumu takes another breath. "Look, I'm serious. I know I say a lot of shit just to mess with you, but I really have been thinkin' about it all day."
"Sorry if what I said causes your brain to fry from actual use," Sakusa says, ice cold.
Despite the bitterness of Sakusa's tone, Atsumu smiles. Sakusa's expression goes blank, as if surprised.
"I could do this all day, ya know. Talk to you," Atsumu says. "I'd never be bored. Maybe I'd be mad sometimes," Atsumu laughs, "but never bored. You just know all the right buttons to push for some reason."
Sakusa's eyes trail over his face, in that quietly assessing way of his. It's so Sakusa that Atsumu actually feels his heart squeeze.
He wants Sakusa to keep looking, always.
"You...do too," Sakusa says eventually, still looking slightly pained. "Maybe we're masochists, for wanting this."
Atsumu smiles wider. "You want this? Like...you want me?"
Sakusa rolls his eyes. "I'm not saying it again."
"You didn't even say it properly the first time."
"Because you really would've laughed in my face, idiot."
"How long?" Atsumu asks, ignoring that.
Sakusa's eyes slide over Atsumu's shoulder. "I'm not having this conversation in the fucking hallway."
"But you'll have it?"
Sakusa hesitates. Atsumu sees his mouth open and click back shut.
"Oh, and you'll eat this too," Atsumu adds, holding the plate up. "Despite all my jokes about poisoning you with hand sanitizer, I don't actually want you to die. Or even starve."
It's not a remotely romantic thing to say, but Sakusa's eyes still flicker down to the plate and back up at Atsumu with a much softer expression.
Maybe it's also this- Sakusa is the only person he can speak like this with, and he'll not only understand but push back perfectly.
"Did you practice saying that without gagging in the bathroom mirror while you spent hours in the shower today?"
Atsumu gives him a cocky grin. "Aw, you're so obsessed with me you even monitor my shower time. What's next? Gonna make sure I jerk off right too?"
Sakusa rolls his eyes. "Gross. You wish."
"Maybe I do," Atsumu says, surprising even himself.
"You're unbelievable," Sakusa says quietly, but he opens the door wider and grabs the plate out of Atsumu's hands, their fingers brushing. Then, "Are you coming in to talk or what?"
Atsumu is filled again with the strange sort of feeling that's been building in him since Sakusa confessed; the feeling of being on the precipice of discovering something- something old that feels excitedly new, something achingly familiar that might be terrifyingly good.
Atsumu has never felt this way about anyone before, but he suddenly wants to discover everything that may come, both sharp and sweet.
"Yeah, Omi-kun. I'm coming in."
