02 : "and the godless." — suna rintarō.
moonlight | next — under | inside
cw: mentions of alcohol. swearing. suggestive themes. wc: 2.2k
If Miya Atsumu was god, then Suna Rintarō was godless.
Rintarō was the one who barely bats an eye at Atsumu.
If Atsumu was mad and walking out the door, or rubbing in his grave importance to the band, or has caught himself in another scandal—none of it ever prompted Rintarō to even so much as make a comment.
Rintarō was the one who kept you wondering if he cared at all. Because while Issei, Osamu, and Semi would be the type to beg for a break from Atsumu's harsh work ethic, Rintarō would be the one watching everything happen with a bored look on his face; one that—much like Atsumu's arrogance—never falters.
When it came to Rintarō, what leaves you wondering is what could've been.
Had Atsumu not stepped in as the frontman, leader of the band, then would have Rintarō changed so drastically as well? You didn't peg him as someone who would develop a god complex, but could he have been just like Atsumu?
The fans loved him, though. It would be a blatant lie to say that Rintarō isn't so dangerously attractive. His eyes seemingly piercing through you all the time; the chains on his neck, piercings on his ears, and rings snug around the fingers of his large hands decorated his skin beautifully. And he stood tall past six feet, with his deadpanned face that made him so difficult to approach yet so, so intriguing.
Despite not being the frontman of the band, he was an obvious favorite. He stood out without effort.
“You might as well take a picture of me right now, manager. You're staring so hard, think I might melt.”
You blink him. He sounded smug, and he's looking at you with an equally smug expression on his face again.
“I wasn't staring,” you quipped with a scoff.
“Hey, y'know they say liars go to hell, Y/N.” The glint in his eyes annoy you. He enjoys teasing you so much that it baffles you sometimes.
“What are you, a five year old?” Liars go to hell. You roll your eyes. “To hell I go, then,” you answer sarcastically.
“Oh-ho-ho?” he grins in amusement, “To hell you go? So you were lying.”
“You're a pain, Rin,” you say, walking to the door.
You can see Rintarō's satisfied smile even with your back facing him. “ʼs not true at all. I'm the most agreeable person in this band.”
“Sure you are, Rintarō,” you mutter despite yourself.
Rintarō was godless. There wasn't ever a shred of fear in his actions; Rin would be the one easily ignoring Atsumu and whatever he would be demanding.
It isn't to say that he didn't do what he needed to do in the band, but it was his lack of complaint. Whether it was Atsumu calling in the band near midnight whenever he found an error or the lack of emotion on his face at the sound of Atsumu's voice saying it seems like he was the only one working hard enough for the band.
It was hard to listen to, but under heavy pressure, Atsumu's words stung like venom.
And out of everyone, Rintarō would be the one playing a little game on his phone while the rest stared back at Atsumu full of resentment. You wondered how he does it.
Rintarō isn't like Atsumu. He didn't walk like he owned every place he went to, or talked with so much pride dripping in his voice a person couldn't help but lower their head.
No, that was Atsumu.
But Rintarō was godless in a sense that it made him seem like a god. After all, what's more godly than the ability to defy the one who acted like a true god? It was like telling them you're no better than me.
“You're starin' at me again, manager.”
You stutter on your words, flustered as you watch Rintarō smirking back at you.
“I—I just spaced out.”
“On my face?”
“Yes—I mean, no, no. At the wall behind you, stop being such a bully,” you shake your head, and he's humming, unconvinced.
“Yeah?” He challenges, one of his eyebrows raising, “cause if you're so in love with me, I wouldn't mind dating you. 'm sure the management wouldn't mind either.”
Rintarō tilts his head, watching your reaction.
“That's not—”
“Hm? But you'd say yes if Atsumu asked, wouldn't you?”
That was another thing about Rintarō that unnerves you. He's so cocksure of what he thinks of your feelings for Atsumu.
He isn't wrong, but that was the problem.
“Can you please drop it, Rin?” You grit your teeth together, fists clenching.
The only response you get is his mocking pout, and the smug smile he gives you.
The sound of door opening allows you to exhale in relief. You turn your head to see Atsumu, a usual scowl etched on his face as he walked towards the couch. Iwaizumi trails right behind him. Ah, it must be the meeting again.
“What is it this time? God, they keep rushing the goddamn album yet they’re wasting our time with these useless meetings.”
“Atsumu, just please cooperate,” Iwaizumi’s voice is gruff and near agitated. You sink your teeth down your lip, chewing at it.
You were supposed to convince him yesterday to just get on with the company’s call. Instead, it seemed like he did the convincing; with his fingertips digging into your waist and his drowning kisses.
Atsumu merely clicks his tongue in response. Opening the mini fridge and taking out a bottle of alcohol.
“’Tsumu, please do that after,” you tell him in a haste, words coming right out of your mouth before you can stop them. Atsumu ignores you, but the bottle clanks against the glass table without him opening it.
“They want more attention on the band so they’re pushing for the album single to have a featured artist,” Iwaizumi reasons with Atsumu, then glancing at you.
“How much more attention on us do they want? We’re topping the music charts, going on one show after another.” Atsumu’s practically fuming, and the stress weighing on him is evident.
You can tell Iwaizumi’s about to lose it. Miya Atsumu truly was a menace to work it, years with the band didn’t make it any less hard on him.
“Miya,” The warning in Iwaizumi’s voice is hard to miss, making you gulp, yet Atsumu’s glaring up at him.
“Fine, but look around, barely half of the band is here. Left early or some shit.”
You feel your whole body freeze. The rest were already on the way to the company building after discussing it through the band’s group chat—thinking Atsumu had already checked, you failed to inform him about it.
“Uh, Atsumu…” You trail off, almost wincing once he snaps his attention towards you, “They’re already on the way there.”
Atsumu's teeth grinds against each other in his frustration. They couldn’t have been fucking serious. He was already against going, but to go without informing him? It was near belittling.
“They talked about it in the group chat and-and I forgot that you didn’t bring your phone with you,” stumbling over your own words, you could barely meet his gaze.
While it’s true that Atsumu—to an extent—had an arguably soft spot for you, but all the same, this was Atsumu.
As much as it is hard to get along with him, is as easy to lose whatever need he has of you. Everyone was replaceable. Band members, managers, partners, you. At least to him, it was that way.
You might’ve been holding your breath, because the sigh you let out when Suna stands from his seat is loud.
“C’mon then, manager. On our way to the meeting, right?” Suna cocks an eyebrow at you, completely unfazed by the thick tension in the air. He wraps his hand around your wrist, almost dragging you from where you stood paralyzed.
“See you there, Miya.”
You beg the ground to swallow you whole. You had left the studio first but coincidentally, Atsumu arrives with Iwaizumi, just in time to be in the same elevator as you and Rintarou.
The elevator music was one of the band’s popular singles, somehow making the situation more awkward than it should be. Atsumu’s foot tapping against the floor was anxiety-inducing—sounding like a ticking time bomb; much like he is, ready to explode at any minute.
Especially with the few times the elevator stopped to let in an employee of the building, and their immediate hesitation upon the doors opening and coming face to face with Miya Atsumu. Still, the elevator becomes cramped until Rin’s wrapping one of his arms around your waist to let you keep enough space.
It’s Atsumu who walks in front on the way to the conference room. Rintarou walked lazily beside you, following right behind Atsumu until he’s pushing the door open and the loud voices of Osamu, Issei, and Semi halts.
You watch them tense up as Atsumu takes the seat nearest to the musical director, Kuroo. Rintarou settles beside you, completely relaxed.
“Glad you could make it, Atsumu,” Kuroo mused, and you’re not sure if he’s being sincere.
“Wish I could say the same,” Atsumu scowls bitterly.
Kuroo turns to ignore him, nodding at Rintarou in acknowledgement. “Well, first order of business, boys. The collaboration with another artist. Much as we’d like to give you the liberty to pick who it’s going to be, we’re running short of time—”
“And whose fault is that?” Atsumu interrupts. Kuroo sighs, “I suppose the answer you’d like is that it’s the management’s fault, Atsumu,” he answers.
“Is it not?”
“Miya, drop it please,” Iwaizumi cuts in, almost wanting to rub his forehead in frustration.
“That said, Y/N will be introducing the artist to you guys since she’s familiar with them the most,” Kuroo continues, nodding towards you. You try not to grit your teeth together, surprised and almost mad. Thinking about it now, you’re not sure how’d you’d survive the practice and recording sessions throughout this single.
The nod you give is timid. Rintarou catches on to it, humming to himself silently. He wants to ask you about it, but all he continues to twirl the pen in between his fingers instead.
“The bosses are pushing the single to be out in two months’ time, shorter if possible. Since some rumors have started spreading.”
“What is it this time?” It’s Semi who asks, visibly confused.
“People have been getting antsy about next album’s release since it’s been pushed back quite a few times now. Rumors are talking about the band breaking up because it’s as if none of you are getting along,”
Thick tension fills the air. Not that it was true, but it wasn’t completely false either.
“So, I’ll need you guys to do some damage control. You know what to do,” Iwaizumi looks over the band. Atsumu presses his lips together, annoyed.
The company’s so hell-bent on saving face all the damn time. But he supposes it’s nothing he didn’t have coming after all the issues he’s got himself into. For once, he opts not to speak, and the meeting continues.
Atsumu doesn’t miss the way Rintarou leans over your shoulder too closely as you wrote down notes. He tells himself he doesn’t matter to him, not when he knows your chest is still blooming with purple marks he left on you last night.
But he’s quick to come to you after Kuroo announces the end of the meeting.
“You’re riding with me, c’mon,” he doesn’t ask. He tells you while tugging on your wrist. And then he watches you glance at Rintarou, standing from his seat.
“I have to go somewhere for a bit, ‘Tsumu. Rin already offered to drive me.”
Atsumu’s eyebrows pull together, narrowing his eyes at Rintarou.
“There’s still practice and recording,” he stressed, directing to uncaring man right behind you.
You wish you could be surprised, but Atsumu always called for practice erratically. “Oh? Well then I’ll be fine on my own—”
You feel Rin’s familiar flick on your forehead, “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m drivin’ you,” he insists. You’re left feeling lost, somehow like you’re being pulled at each side.
“Sunarin,” Atsumu calls out with a warning edge on his tone.
“I got my part all good, Atsumu. You can go on for a bit without me,” Rintarou offers him a half-hearted smile.
You tilt your head to the side, “You sure, Rin?”
Rintarou tucks his chin slightly, an elusive smile playing on his lips, “Yeah, I am. C’mon, got places to be,” he answers you, one of his hands resting on the small of your back to beckon you out.
The ghostly tug in Atsumu’s chest doesn’t miss it.
“We’ll see you back at the studio, ‘Tsumu,” you smile at him warmly.
And then you’re walking out of his sight with someone else.
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