he’s insane, shoyo thinks.
atsumu is getting ripped to shreds in front of the entire team in the middle of practice, and the fucker is grinning. sick with it, he might be.
you’re getting all up in his face, finger jabbing at his chest. even coach looks afraid of interfering with the scene unfolding.
he’s seen his teammate get into it with people before. hearing him snap back and give them a piece of his mind, isn’t unusual. this, on the other hand, is completely new territory.
every sane person knows not to meddle in a lover’s spat. it’s rule number one next to minding your own business, in the guide to keeping out of trouble.
something atsumu, if the way you’re tearing into him right now is any evidence, is not very good at.
“that all?” he asks, “or d’ya got more for me?”