Chapter Text
Hinata Shoyo was an exceptionally beautiful and destructive force. He exploded into people's lives like a supernova, only to then disappear without a trace, leaving his victims dazed and a little more hollow than before he'd found them.
It wasn't malicious; quite the contrary, Hinata loved everyone, collected friends and rivals like Pokémon, but he was always racing off to his next adventure, and the result was a rapidly-growing population scattered around the world, missing his unique form of sunshine and wondering when or if they'd ever see him again.
Atsumu remembered the first time he saw Hinata, at Nationals in his second year. As a smart guy, focused and not easily distracted from his sole passion, the memory of being blinded dumb by Hinata was unforgettable. It was one thing to be smitten by Hinata's volleyball skills, but another entirely to be haunted by scandalous dreams that distracted him from the game altogether.
Then the following year—Atsumu had waited, eager to see him again, his eyes searching for that mess of orange hair. For days he'd tried to build up the courage to approach Hinata and ask for his number, so they could stay in contact after graduation. But then Osamu had caught Atsumu sneaking glances and called him out on it, just moments before he was about to walk over—and he was going to ask Hinata that time, really—and what was probably intended to be a light ribbing instantly disintegrated the meager confidence Atsumu had scrounged together.
In the end, he never did work up the nerve. Atsumu and Hinata completely lost touch, leaving behind only a few brief memories for four long years.
But then Hinata—sweet, charming, ball of energy and optimism Hinata—came blazing back into Atsumu's life and changed everything, and his appearance came at a time that truly seemed like divine intervention. Atsumu was doubting his decision to go pro in the first place, uninspired by his old serves, humiliated following a bungled fan event, annoyed with his teammates, and frustrated with his brother for daring to seem happier than him.
And Hinata remembered Atsumu too, apparently.
Over the course of their first year together, and across multiple drunken evenings, Hinata regaled Atsumu with stories that made clear he had been paying just as close attention to Atsumu as Atsumu had been to him.
During their second season, they grew even closer, as a team but especially as a duo. Hinata liked to arrange road trips and weekend outings, and no matter how much Atsumu pretended to need to mull it over or check with his entirely empty social calendar, he always attended. These "team bonding activities" often ended up just the same four old friends from high school. Sakusa always departed first, with Bokuto slipping away soon after, often with increasing wink-winks in Atsumu's direction.
Nothing ever happened, though. Atsumu was blowing this chance too, despite how lovingly the universe had gift-wrapped it for him.
Then came the offer from Asas São Paulo. Hinata announced his departure from the Jackals and somewhere in the gym, someone slammed a door shut.
Atsumu found it very fitting.
It didn't take long after that for Atsumu's life to return to its depressing, pre-Hinata state, and Hinata hadn't even left Japan yet. One month after his announcement, they were at the after-after party of Hinata's grand farewell from the Black Jackals.
As the hours crept late into the night, the others had trickled away, leaving only Hinata, Atsumu, and Bokuto. They were at a small karaoke bar in Osaka; in the background some ancient-looking man was unabashedly belting out the lyrics to a Girls Generation song in an ear-splitting falsetto. Atsumu was bent over the bar, his cheek glued to the counter. It was sticky, probably hadn't been wiped down in hours, but he didn't care.
He felt a strong hand smack him across the back and let out a hoarse gasp.
"You okay there, Tsum-Tsum?" Bokuto asked, laughing.
Atsumu just sighed, rolling his eyes. Bokuto was standing over him, as was Hinata.
Hinata chewed on his lip. "You should drink some water."
"M'fine," Atsumu mumbled. I'm not fine, he thought, turning his head away from them and feeling his nose drag through something viscous. It smelled like fermented strawberries.
"I've got him," Hinata said, seemingly addressing Bokuto. "You should go home."
Atsumu felt another hard smack on his back and grunted, then some muttered discussion between Hinata and Bokuto that he didn't bother trying to discern. There was the scrape of a bar stool, and then a much more gentle feeling across his upper back, of an arm sliding across his shoulders. He melted against the cool wood of the bar top, a long, low groan escaping him. His body tensed then, and he cursed.
The arm stilled for a moment; obviously, Hinata had heard all of this. Atsumu briefly wished for death, but then Hinata's hand found his hair and started to stroke it. Despite his inner turmoil, Atsumu relaxed again. This wasn't an unfamiliar thing; from Hinata's very first day with the Jackals, they had gravitated toward each other. This was just another way to relax a buddy's nerves before a game. It was a way to bond as teammates.
"Are you going to be able to stand up?" Hinata asked.
Atsumu blinked a few times and turned his head again, slowly, carefully, not wanting to discourage Hinata from doing what he was doing. He hadn't actually been drinking very much; he was barely even tipsy, but perhaps playing himself off as drunk would be less humiliating in the end. "Yeah. M'fine."
"If I order you water, will you drink it?"
"M'older than ya," Atsumu grumbled, narrowing his eyes. "I'm yer sempai."
"So if I left, you could get home by yourself?"
Yes, he could, because he wasn't actually drunk... but he also didn't want Hinata to leave. Not yet. Not ever, really.
"Thought so," Hinata said, taking Atsumu's silence for a no. He raised his hand, grabbing the attention of the bartender, and a minute later slid a glass of water in front of Atsumu's face. "Sit up and drink."
It was always a nice feeling, when Hinata looked out for him. After the way Hinata's first trip to Nationals ended, it was no surprise he seemed to enjoy taking care of others, rather than needing to be the one babied. This wasn't the first time Atsumu had taken advantage of it. Too bad it was likely to be the last.
The thought made him drop his head again; it landed with a soft thud.
Hinata sighed, patting Atsumu's head, and then gently took him by the shoulders and pulled him up. He was strong now, weirdly strong, and Atsumu lifted easily. Hinata snorted, then started to laugh in earnest, and Atsumu sat up the rest of the way very suddenly with a frown.
"What? What!?"
"Your face," Hinata snickered, almost pointing but then dropping his hand. His mouth kept quirking up as he kept trying and failing to contain his laughter. "Your cheek is all red, and you've got goo on your nose..."
Atsumu scowled and started to rub at his nose with the back of his hand, but it was too sticky and didn't come off easily. Hinata poured some of the water onto a napkin and held it up with a grin. Atsumu sighed, dropping his arm, and allowed Hinata to lean in close—closer than necessary, in Atsumu's opinion—to wipe his nose and cheek clean.
"M'older than ya," Atsumu repeated, averting his eyes.
"I'm going to miss you," Hinata mumbled, dabbing Atsumu's nose one last time before tossing the used napkin aside.
Atsumu reached for the glass of water and sipped it, needing to distract himself from Hinata's words and his closeness and the fact that they were alone together—reminding himself that it didn't matter, because Hinata was leaving. It was too late for anything to happen.
Hinata was watching him; Atsumu could see it out of the corner of his eye. He took a big gulp of water, wondering what time it was.
"I've always liked you, Atsumu," Hinata said.
Atsumu immediately choked but managed only a few sputtering coughs before he got it under control. He continued to hold onto the glass as though it was some kind of lifeline, but his hand was shaking, the liquid in the glass sloshing around. "I uh, like ya too, Shoyo."
"As your teammate?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Only as your teammate?" Hinata pressed.
"Wha—" Atsumu looked up then and made the mistake of meeting Hinata's gaze. His eyes were as intense as ever, golden and fiery and focused on Atsumu.
"Sorry," Hinata said with a chuckle, leaning back and putting a hand over his face. "I thought— and Sakusa and Bokuto said they thought— ugh. Sorry, maybe I'm the one who drank too much."
"What?" Atsumu said again, not registering any of this.
"I thought maybe you liked me back," Hinata finally confessed, cheeks pink.
He did, of course, and had since high school. Wasn't it too late though? Hinata was leaving for Brazil in two short months. Their time together on the Jackals was over.
"I— what?"
"Are you okay?" Hinata asked, concern overtaking his embarrassment. "Do you need more water? Some fresh air?"
"Huh?"
"Let's get you home," Hinata murmured, reaching over to slide a hand across Atsumu's shoulder. Just this touch left his skin tingling, wanting more.
Hinata paid the tab with his free hand, then slid off his stool with an unsteady landing. He guided Atsumu down next, holding Atsumu's elbow as he helped him down, even though it was now clear Hinata was the drunker one. They left the bar together and headed down the street toward the row of parked taxis, Hinata taking the lead.
Atsumu's pace slowed with each step. He really didn't want to reach those cabs. When they did, Hinata would climb in, go home to his apartment, pack for Brazil, and then disappear forever. Atsumu would never get a third chance.
Even if they both made the national team—which, at least, was likely—it wouldn't be the same. There would be too many other familiar and appealing people to compete with. These two years were his chance, but he blew them. Five minutes ago, Hinata confessed and he froze like a complete idiot.
A lifetime of prioritizing volleyball, and Atsumu had left himself with no other skills.
All that, and he wasn't even the best setter in Japan anymore.
Atsumu looked up to see that Hinata was suddenly far ahead. The first driver had already spotted him and was opening the door. Atsumu sprinted forward without thinking.
His mouth wasn't working—he couldn't find any words—so he just reached out and grabbed the back of Hinata's shirt, yanking him backward.
"Uwaah— what? What the hell?" Hinata spun on his heels, arm swinging, and whacked Atsumu hard in the face, the back of his hand connecting with Atsumu's nose.
Atsumu stumbled back but managed to find his footing in time.
Hinata's eyes went wide. He quickly folded into a deep bow.
"Sorry! Atsumu! Sorry! I'm— I'm so sorry! Please forgive me! Sorry! I thought you were—" Hinata stammered, but it fell silent as soon as he finally looked up again.
Rubbing his stinging nose with a hiss, the hint of a tear in one eye, Atsumu sighed and shook his head. "Some kinda Brazilian mugger? Yer still in Japan, stupid."
"I said I'm sorry!" Hinata wailed again, hanging his head.
"I forgive ya," Atsumu muttered, shaking his head. "Yer lucky I like ya."
"You do?"
"Yeah." He sighed, taking a deep breath. "And I'll— I'll miss settin' for ya too."
"I really like your tosses, Atsumu," Hinata replied, his voice wavering slightly. "But I won't have to miss them if you just make the national team, like I plan to!"
Atsumu frowned, the phrase second-best rattling around in his head. "Won't Tobio be there?"
"I eventually got better than him, with your help." Hinata stepped forward and placed both hands on Atsumu's shoulders, beaming. "You can too, with mine!"
"Brazil is very far away," Atsumu pointed out stupidly.
"There are planes."
"There are lotsa people in Brazil."
"There are a lot of people in Japan, too." Hinata took another step forward, closing the gap between them. He looked up; their faces were just a few inches apart. "What's your point?"
"Um—"
"I've always liked you," Hinata repeated, his mouth set in a straight line. "More than anyone else I've ever met. More than anyone I'll meet in Brazil, probably. What about you, huh? Got anything to say to me?" He looked determined, but there was an underlying sorrow there too.
Perhaps it wasn't such an easy choice for him to leave the Jackals after all.
Atsumu tried to form six years of pathetic obsession into words and failed. He ended up just staring at Hinata and wishing he could keep talking for the both of them, but Hinata was clearly demanding an answer this time.
So instead, Atsumu ducked down and captured Hinata's lips with his own.
There was a brief moment where Atsumu winced, just in case he was about to get hit again, and a hand did come at him, but only to grip his hair and jerk his head further down. Hinata's lips were warm, though his breath smelled a little like booze when he laughed breathlessly. Atsumu distantly wondered why he was so amused, then he felt Hinata's tongue licking at him, requesting entrance, and he realized his lips were glued shut. He remedied this quickly, parting them, his own hands sliding to Hinata's waist.
Hinata took over, guiding his head and pulling him even further down, until Atsumu was nearly bent in half. Drunk or not, Hinata clearly knew what he was doing, one hand fisted in his hair, the other gently cupping his cheek.
Atsumu was just grateful not to be completely inexperienced, even if his few times were short-lived, always with people who were tossed aside right away for being too tall and not cheerful enough, their hair always not quite... bright enough.
When Hinata pulled away suddenly, Atsumu panicked, wondering if he did something wrong. Then Hinata started tugging him toward the taxis. Atsumu stumbled after him, mouth open but still no words forming.
"On second thought, I'm not sure I should put you in a taxi by yourself," Hinata said, ducking into the nearest cab and sliding onto the back seat. He turned then, to poke his head back out. "Maybe you should come back with me?"
"Uh— oh. Oh. Right! Yeah. Good idea. I— yes." Atsumu nodded and nodded, then dove into the taxi a little too eagerly, landing half on top of Hinata as the door swung shut behind him, nearly smacking his dangling legs.