there are very little things in this world that sakusa deems valuable enough to not risk – his game, his career, his reputation, his name.
he isn’t a gambler but he is an athlete and when you’re in his shoes, playing in the big leagues, thousands of people watching, looking, judging, there are a lot of risks you have to look out for.
he has to be quiet, polite, say the right thing, say it in the right tone, say it in the right time, otherwise, he risks his job and reputation.
he has to be focused, agile, ready for any change in the volleyball world the minute - the second - it happens, otherwise, he risks getting left behind, getting replaced by someone better, newer than him.
he has to be a lot of things and the risks of not being any of it puts him in a corner - cold and confining.
all of it, he hates with a passion, he hates with an effort. so he doesn’t take any risks at all. not when it comes to his game, his career, his reputation, his name.
but you – you are probably the riskiest person he has ever met.
i mean, you guys work together for god’s sake. it’s an HR crisis waiting to happen. it puts everything he’s worked hard for at risk — his game, his career, his reputation, his name.
but still.
you always know the right things to say to him, always know the right time he’s gonna be there or the right place to sit where he sees you so clearly even in the middle of the court.
everytime you talk to him, everytime you touch him, everytime you say his name or bring him coffee, everytime you watch him play or everytime he sees you outside of work — there is a feeling in his chest and he almost hates it.
“there’s a new ramen restaurant in miyagi that i’ve been wanting to try…” sakusa clears his throat, standing a few inches away from the lockers as everyone gets their shoes on.
it’s a little bit after 4pm, practice for the day had just ended, and well, meian always tells him he needed to socialize more with the rest of the group.
the locker room is stuffy and sweaty and to be honest, he’s never really been fond of the smell wafting in the air, so he always makes it a point to be the first one out the door after he’s done changing.
today though, he stays, hangs around everybody, and even if he hates it, he goes, “does anyone want to come with me tonight?”
hinata looks up at him from his shoes, “sorry omi, gotta take natsu to the dentist after practice, i dunno how long it’ll take us.”
he gives hinata a short nod — that’s fine.
“kaashi and i are seeing a movie around 7, but next time, man, i promise.” bokuto says, his hand on his neck, apologetic, almost.
another nod — that’s fine, too.
well, at least now, sakusa couldn’t say he didn’t try to socialize more. it’s the preferable outcome for him anyway, he’s better going off on it alone.
atsumu’s voice tears him away from his thoughts, loud and too cheerful for someone who just performed 4 diving laps, “i could go with ya, omi!”
and out of instinct, he replies “no, thank you.”
his blond teammate looks like he’s gonna say something after his response but you speak before he gets the chance to.
“well, i don’t mind coming, omi.” you say, and he blinks - how long have you been there?
there’s a knot in his stomach. “tonight?”
(he thinks, please say no, please say no, please say no.)
you nod at him, “it’s gonna be snowing so some ramen would be perfect.”
he nods at you - unable to say anything else, really - and he clears his throat, looking at atsumu, who he’s now just been really appreciative of for existing all of a sudden.
“then it will be you, me, and miya?” he asks, and he wants to keep his voice quiet now, untrusting of it.
(in the corner of his eye, he sees hinata step on atsumu’s foot and he goes “ow, whaddya do that for!” bokuto gives him a look, similar to the one hinata has, and atsumu catches on.)
sakusa gives the three of them a warning look, begging, actually begging, anyone who’d listen in that silly head of his for them not to do anything stupid.
“sorry man,” atsumu flashes him a grin, and he feels his knees go weak. “i forgot i had some plans tonight, i don’t think i’ll be able to go.”
lord, forgive sakusa kiyoomi for he’s gonna kill somebody.
he wants to say something, but before he could, you beat him to it.
“perfect.” you smile, “more for us then. right, omi?”
sakusa swallows the lump in his throat, and gives you a short nod, “yeah.”
you gather your things in your hand, “i’ll come over to your place, then?”
(words that make his knees feel even weaker.)
another nod. “yes, that’s fine.”
and he regains his composure, the worst of it over, but before you turn to leave, you flash him another one of your smiles, and he wishes you would just go so he can feel his pulse return to normal again.
“it’s a date.” you say, and you’re out the door.
sakusa’s face has a whisper of a light pinkishness to it and unable to think about it too much, he blames it on the open window letting the cold in.
the second the door closes, the locker room erupts in cheers, “way to go, omi!” “you’re going on a date!” and “it’s finally happening!”
there’s a knot in his stomach, and atsumu claps him on his back.
he rolls his eyes at the group, shaking his head as he whispers something along the lines of “whatever” or “its not a big deal.”
but his face feels hot and his pulse feels like its drumming against his skin, but, he can blame that on the cold too.
the sun goes down quicker than sakusa hoped it would, it’s 6:47pm now and you’ll be arriving in no later than 13 minutes.
he takes a good look at his apartment, ransacked and messy, the complete opposite of its usual state.
there’s a knock on his door and he feels his heart beat out of his chest at the sound.
he opens it with a fervor, “i asked you to come 30 minutes ago.”
“it’s a 30 minute walk.” behind the door is atsumu, sheepish smile on his face, hands shoved into his pockets as he pushes past the brunette and into the apartment.
“woah, this place is a mess.” atsumu says aloud, even him surprised at the disarray.
“i didn’t know what to wear.” sakusa admits, and he feels embarrassment course through his skin.
“i’ll say.” the blond replies, but he doesn’t tease. “you alright, omi?”
sakusa sighs – he really isn’t. his nerves are killing him and there’s an intense nervousness that pools in his belly. you make him nervous, did you know that?
“maybe i should cancel.” he says, and he looks at himself in the mirror again — coat, scarf, gloves, check, check, check.
“what? don’t do that.” atsumu shakes his head, “it’s five minutes ‘til 7.”
he’s probably right, sakusa thinks, you’re probably on your way by now, and even with the chilling weather outside, he feels way too hot for his own good.
he takes off his gloves to alleviate some of the warmth, placing it on his dresser as he paces.
“you’re an asshole, right?” sakusa says suddenly, “punch me in the face, take me to the ER, and i will reschedule whatever this night is to when i’m readier.”
(he doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready, to be honest.)
“even if i do really want to punch you in the face right now, that is so not gonna happen.”
“being your friend is useless to me.”
“yet, i’m the one you called over here.”
the doorbell rings and the both of them freeze in their places, sakusa looks over to the clock and how is it 7 already? and must you be on time for everything?
you’re already here and his place is a mess and atsumu freaking miya is standing in the middle of his apartment.
he says the first thing he can think of, “hide.”
atsumu looks at him, “what?”
he insists, “hide now.”
“are ya nuts? your apartment is a shoebox, where the hell am i hiding in here?” atsumu shakes his head, and he follows sakusa’s eyes in response as he tilts his body to look over to the bed.
“no fuckin way, nuh uh.” he backs away, “i am not hiding under there.”
the doorbell rings again and atsumu feels the nerves getting to him too.
“please. i’ll owe you.”
and atsumu wants to say no - really, he does - he’s not some teenager caught with his pants down and has to be stashed away under a bed, but sakusa looks at him in a way that makes him unrecognizable.
sakusa may not know it, but everyone can tell, every single one of them on the team knows, just how much this means to him.
(after all, the only people in msby black jackals who don’t know that sakusa likes you are sakusa and you.)
so he relents, and he gets on his knees near the bed before he scurries off under it. “you so owe me for this.”
sakusa feels embarassed – ashamed, really. he’s actually invested in this - in this date, and he wishes he was kidding, but he’s not, and he hates it.
he opens the door, and you’re there, and it’s always nice to see you outside of work.
“hi.” he says, and he doesn’t know what else to say.
“hi.” you say back, and for a second, it’s quiet.
another second passes, “can i come in?”
and he wants to kick himself, “yes. of course.”
“it’s freezing tonight.” you make polite small talk, “good thing i wore my coat.”
“it looks nice.” he nods, and he is grateful you don’t say anything about the mess of his apartment. it takes him another beat to realize what he said, and he feels embarrassed, although he doesn’t know why, so he follows up, “the coat.”
he wants to hit himself. he sounds like he’s just talking about the coat.
“you as well.” he says again. “not just the coat, i meant to say. you and the coat are nice looking. both of you.” he wants to stop talking – why is he still talking?
he looks at you, “where’d you - uh - buy it?”
great, now he sounds like he wants to take the fucking coat.
there’s a sound almost like snickering coming from under the bed but before you could look over to it sakusa clears his throat again.
“i’m ready to go,” he says suddenly, “are you?”
you haven’t been able to get a word in all night it seems, but it makes you smile - amused, and you nod, “yes.”
the night starts off okay, it’s quiet though, and he thinks, are dates supposed to be quiet?
“you okay there, omi?” you break the silence, and he wonders if you can tell what he’s been thinking.
“yeah.” a short reply, “just cold.”
you nod, “ah.”
in an effort to keep the conversation going, and the sudden realization that he may be the reason why it’s such a quiet evening, he looks to the side, and tells you, as the two of you walk the pavement to the train station:
“i forgot my gloves.”
there’s a pink hue on his ears, and he’s grateful you don’t tease him about it.
you stop walking for a moment, so he stops too.
he watches you as you work, taking the left glove on your hand off and he says nothing when you ask him to give you his left hand.
“here.” you slip on your left glove on his left hand, and it’s a snug fit, but it is warm.
then you say, “do you mind?”
and he doesn’t know what you’re talking about until you put your - now, ungloved - left hand to his -also, ungloved - right hand. fingers interlacing.
“this way, it’ll stay warm, don’t you think?”
he doesn’t trust his voice and he’s more grateful for the snow now as he finds it being his excuse for how red his ears are getting. he can only nod his head, keeping his nose tucked in under his scarf.
his lips tremble and he’s not so sure if it’s from the cold or from you.
sakusa doesn’t gamble. he doesn’t like the risks of it all. he always feels there’s always gonna be too much to lose rather than gaining anything beneficial for him.
so no – there are very little things in the world he cares enough about for him to risk anything for.
“better?” you say, and he tries harder to focus on your voice rather than your warm hand.
“yes.”
you smile and he thinks it’s really nice. “so, why was atsumu under your bed?”
his face feels hot now, his first instinct to deny that there ever was any man named atsumu under his bed, but he knows that look you’re giving him, and he knows it would be pointless to lie.
still, he doesn’t know what to say to you.
“omi?”
but then again, he never knows what to say to you.
“… i asked him to come help me get ready.”
you tilt your head, “get ready for?”
the silence becomes your answer and sakusa feels his face burn. it feels like embarrassment – but it also feels like something else.
“oh.”
and unexpectedly, you laugh, and when he hears it, for the first time all evening, his nerves finally cool on him, and he laughs too.
you bump your shoulders with his, playful, “if it helps to know, i was nervous too.”
“because of me?” he doesn’t really believe you, he doesn’t think anything can make someone like you nervous, but you, on the other hand, make him nervous all the time.
“well, you don’t really talk to me at work,” you shrug, your voice sounding teasing, “i didn’t think you liked me all that much, to be honest.”
“sorry.” he says in quiet laughter, and he can’t bring himself to look at you.
you look at him though, and he wishes that you wouldn’t. he can hear the smile in your voice still, “for what?”
“for this shitty date.”
that makes you laugh even more and he feels like it’s gonna make him fall over.
“well, we haven’t even gotten to the restaurant yet so jury’s still out on whether it’s shitty or not.” you squeeze his hand, teasing.
(and he rolls his eyes, nerves gone, and feeling much better now that he’s talking to you.)
you are probably the riskiest person he’s ever met. you put everything on the line.
by all things considered, he should stay far, far away from you — you jeopardize it all, you could take all he’s ever worked for away.
but everytime you talk to him, everytime you touch him, everytime you say his name or bring him coffee — there is a feeling in his stomach that envelops his entire body and the corner he’s been backed into doesn’t feel as cold or as confining.
you smile at him and he wants it all: he wants to wake up next to you, he wants to fall asleep and you’re the last person he sees, he wants to drive you to work and he wants you to come home with him after the day is over.
“besides,” you say, and the snow may be cold, but his face feels warm.
your voice is soft, “you can just keep taking me on them until we get it right.”
the risk is you could take everything he’s ever worked for, his game, his career, his reputation, his name. but you smile at him and your hand is warm against his and your laugh feels like it’s gonna make him fall over, and he thinks, okay — take it all, it’s already yours anyway.
