Chapter Text
2012, Interhigh Nationals
“‘Tsumu-nii, ‘Samu-nii, ya pig-headed jerkfaces! I never want ta see either of ya ever again!”
“S-Shouyou-kun!”
“Yer being dramatic.”
Miya Shouyou hastily pulls on the wireless device from the corner of his bag’s pockets and jams it into his ears, putting Taylor Swift on full blast to drown out his older brothers’ cries and his teammates’ peals of laughter. His stomping was so loud yet on beat with the chorus that it could be heard throughout the entire hallways.
Not that Shouyou cared. The dramatic flair that came with his irritation outweighs his ability to give a flying fuck at the moment. Pun intended because he’s a flyer in Inarizaki’s cheerleading squad and all but that’s hardly the point!
All Shouyou knows is that for the entire duration of the tournament, he will not be held accountable for any unfortunate soul that comes across him. And yes, he was warranted to feel this way because of his stupid brothers.
Stupid, stupid Osamu for eating the last of his lucky, premium strawberry pudding that morning.
Stupid, stupid Atsumu for yet again, successfully scaring off another potential suitor.
Shouyou should’ve said no, should’ve gone home and thought twice before letting his brothers get away with this farce once more.
Which makes him groan upon remembering the sequence of horrible events earlier that morning. Poor Goshiki Tsutomu, who he had only met a couple of short times in the audience’s bleachers during his brothers' freshmen matches- adorably flustered despite being defensive about Shiratorizawa and why they should’ve won against Inarizaki, was subjected to the twins’ horrendous heckling just for attempting to hold a conversation with Shouyou.
Admittedly Shouyou wouldn’t have minded had this happened a year ago. He knows his charms, would use it well by putting on a face that says ‘Nii-chan, this smelly person is bothering me.’ But what initially was a competition on who could cheer on their team the loudest- Shouyou and his red-white pom poms against Goshiki’s bullhorn, became a comical memory when security reprimanded them before making a run for it.
From then, the shouting turned to laughter and became a joyful conversation. Goshiki was an interesting person after all- obnoxious, loud and determined but nothing Shouyou wasn’t. And he cooks good grub yet-
Yet another one bites the dust.
Getting into Shiratorizawa, one of his brother’s rival schools apparently, was a red flag in Atsumu’s long list of no-good bums for his baby brother of one year and seven months. He then leaves the rest of the dirty work to Osamu, who in turn berates the poor boy, with quote, “You. Scrub with a god-awful haircut. Ya got chased by a pair of scissors or somethin’, huh, mini Ushijima-wanna-be?”, effectively scarring a fourth of Goshiki’s self-esteem for life.
Gods, why were his brothers like that? Overprotective, overbearing, constantly breathing on his neck, his friends and friends he very much wants to date. Shouyou was fifteen! He may be young and reeking of desperation for his first taste of romance but that doesn’t mean he was gullible enough to believe anybody who tells him they love him. He had standards too, thank you very much.
Heck, not even Kita or their parents liked to reprimand him as much as the twins do.
In fact, had everything worked a little more in his favour then maybe he wouldn’t be stuck doing drills with the freshmen tributes that were forced to go along the school’s marching band. To be less of a tag-a-along in his brothers’ matches and be an actual functioning member of the cheerleading squad instead.
“Yer adorable.” Osamu once patronized him when asked why they wouldn’t allow him a boyfriend or girlfriend or participate in cheer dancing activities for the other school clubs.
This happened after Shouyou managed to execute a perfect basket toss and toe touch combination with the senior members of the squad on his first try. A rather difficult and dangerous stunt which sent Atsumu running across the gymnasium demanding “ta put him down this instance, ya fuckin’ scrubs!”
The experience of achievement immediately downgraded to a mortifying memory that burned holes at the back of Shouyou’s mind in less than ten seconds.
“And yer too trusting for yer own good.” Atsumu chimed in.
Shouyou’s phone started to blast off an entire tidal wave of messages as he reached the vending machine. The continuous pings! was putting a damper on his playlist yet he paid no mind and focused on getting his lemonade soda instead.
Was he being absurdly petty at an ungodly hour of need? Yes.
Can he find it himself to come back and forgive his brothers? Hell to the fucking NO.
The twins can get bent, he had put up with their bro-com way too long. Shouyou will just have to put on a face and apologize to Inarizaki’s volleyball team, the freshmen squad who were forced there against their wills, and the entire marching band later. Not that he’ll be terribly missed at the semi-finals against Mujinazaka since their side of the faction doesn’t do much anyway.
Coming to these types of matches wasn’t like American football and high-school musical basketball where he would actually be performing an entire routine, even at expense of being a short, intermission number. It would’ve been more exciting to anticipate actual cheerleading than just reciting some yells, childishly taunting their rival schools, and prancing their fancy props at a stationary position.
In short, as much as Shouyou loves his school and sometimes his brothers, being stuck in the bleachers was incredibly boring, especially for flyers like him who live off the adrenaline of being lifted into the air.
“Oof!”
Caught in his internal turmoil, Shouyou didn’t see the looming wall that so inconveniently appeared in front of him. His soda pops, instantaneously spilling all over him and the tall stranger who most-likely went a little deaf from his high-pitch shrieks.
“What the heck is the big idea, ya-
You beautiful, beautiful man. Standing in front of him was Adonis in the flesh- tall, pale, and devastatingly handsome with those curly dark locks and eyes that surprisingly complemented the bright yellows of his uniform. Even the twin beauty marks on the right side of his forehead gave enough definition to make-up for the surgical mask covering half of his face.
Love Story then comes into play, and the moment was timed so perfectly that Shouyou wanted to live in it forever.
Screw Sundrop’s citrus soda, he wanted a taste of this lemonade instead.
“Um, are you alright?” Even his voice, rough yet velvet, sent flutters all the way down to Shouyou’s stomach.
“Who, me? Yeah, I’m fine! Totally fine! Completely fine! Cool even!”
Shouyou coughs, reeling his accent in and schooling himself out. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of it, but people tend to instantly recognize his association with the A-class douchebag known as Miya Atsumu from the speech patterns alone. Plus, this was not the time to be flustered, especially when they started to feel the soda’s stickiness seep from their clothes and into their skin.
“Sorry about this, I-
Wordlessly, Adonis-turned-mortal being Romeo grabs him by the arm and to the nearest restroom. By the Fox gods above, Shouyou was not ready for this fast-paced development!
The erratic beating of Shouyou’s poor heart felt like it was coming up his throat, especially when he bought out a packet of wet wipes and hand sanitizer before laying it all down at the sink in a very meticulous arrangement.
Oh, how responsible. Shouyou would definitely bring this man home for Mama to meet.
“Hold still.” He says and Shouyou obeys, body stiff in position and eyes shut tight. He’d pucker his lips, but he didn’t want to be too obvious despite knowing exactly where this was going-!
But then his nose catches a whiff of the soft and sweet smell of lavender. Accompanied by feather-like touches all around his bare arms.
Oh.
Oh! Romeo was cleaning him up. Shame, but not a complete loss either way. Especially when his face scrunches up in full concentration as he lightly dabs onto Shouyou’s shirt and upper leg.
Before he knew it, the song was over as was the moment.
“Sorry, but I’m afraid the stains won’t come off easily.” He points to the obvious piss-like splatters on the upper regions of Shouyou’s white pants. Seriously, who decided that the cheerleading team of all clubs in their schools would get light-colored uniforms instead of the usual and more favorable black?
Romeo then takes his jersey jacket off and ties its sleeves around Shouyou’s lithe waist like it belonged there. It took every ounce of Shouyou’s entire being not to shriek in surprise, and there wasn’t much cause he was ridiculously short. The downside of carrying all the human empathy his brothers sorely lacked, he supposes.
“I- I can’t possibly take this! It’s yours! And you might get cold.”
Romeo shrugs. “It’s fine. I have a match coming up anyways.”
He leaves Shouyou a deer in headlights and clean as he could be. There were no goodbyes, not even an introduction or handshake, which was a little rude for the man who literally swept him off his feet and stole his heart.
This makes Shouyou wonder, did he give himself out too soon? Did Romeo figure out that he was the baby brother of the infamous Miya Twin’s, bane of half the v-league’s existence?
It wasn’t that Shouyou was popular. Okay, that was a slight understatement. Maybe a little in their prefecture with his distinguishable clementine-colored hair and loud enthusiasm for jumping higher than most athletes in their school, but Atsumu and Osamu had made things incredibly difficult since he had moved up to Inarizaki’s cheerleading squad, permanently stamping a strictly no dating policy on his back.
Heck, he once heard from a grapevine that Atsumu walks around with his picture on his wallet. That he’d show him off to everyone like a wanted poster, gushing how adorable his baby brother was but at the same time, to stay absolutely clear of him.
“There ya are!” Riseki storms into the restroom, face red and morphed with worry. “I’ve been lookin’ all over the place fer ya! Yer brothers were-” Whatever eight-paged sermon he had prepared died in his throat when his eyes landed on Shouyou’s waist. “Before I ask, do I even want ta know?”
“I’ll tell ya ‘bout it soon.” Shouyou shrugs, stuffing the jacket into his bag and taking Riseki’s for cover instead before leaving.
Shouyou later finds out that Romeo had a name as any other functioning member of the society registered under the Japanese government.
He was called Sakusa Kiyoomi- a suitable name for a man who commanded the court in an eloquent and regal manner despite the sport’s penchant for brutality. And that wasn’t an exaggeration considering how he had watched the twins beat their bodies bloodied and bruised like the elite challengers they were.
Shouyou now knows this when Inarizaki didn’t make it to the finals and Mujinazaka faced Itachiyama instead. That and from the school ID Sakusa had accidentally left behind in the pocket of his jersey.
Shouyou was in complete awe, star-struck by his high verticals and raw power whenever he spikes or serves. This was Itachiyama’s #10, their institute’s ace, resident germaphobe and wild trump card.
In that moment, he briefly recalls a diner conversation they had when Atsumu had returned home from his first All-Japan Youth training camp. When asked if he made friends, Osamu laughs it off while Atsumu struggles not to commit fratricide.
“As expected, there were lotsa interestin’ and skilled players. I even got ta play against that guy from Miyagi again, Ushi-waka- somethin’.” His face scrunches up from the memory. “My arms almost fell off pickin’ up his serves. Gotta watch out for that one next season.”
“But were they any better than ‘Tsumu-nii?”
“‘Course not! Overall, they were all buncha scrubs anyway. Most were really hard ta work with. Wastin’ my sets and all.”
Osamu snorts. “That’s an understatement.”
“‘Samu!”/ “‘Samu-nii!”
“What? It’s true. Yer shitty personality probably manifested through yer tosses.”
Atsumu huffs. “Well, the camp’s for trainin’ not braidin’ each other’s hair. Oh, and there is someone who could hit tosses just fine. Perfect even! Definitely lives up to the title of a nationally-ranked spiker.”
“Oh wow. Someone who lasted an entire week and didn’t give into the temptation of smotherin’ ya in yer sleep.” For someone who had a deadpanned face as a default setting, Osamu says the meanest things. Meaner than Atsumu and Shouyou’s entire vocabulary combined.
“Shut it, ‘Samu. Yer just jealous that Omi-kun’s a better wing spiker and roommate than ya’ll ever be.”
Osamu takes no offense, focusing on his food instead while Shouyou absentmindedly forgets who this Omi-kun, only glad that his eldest brother was at least expanding his social circle.
Currently, Miya Shouyou was not glad when the daunting realization finally hits him in the blindside. Hard. If there's anything worse than crushing on your brothers’ rivals, it was crushing on their friend. And god knows Atsumu barely had any of those.
“Ya hardly know ‘im anyways,” says Riseki when Shouyou came forth with his dilemma on their way home. The pinch server was the only Miya-approved person his age allowed in his presence under some oath the twins put Riseki under. Also, the one who was forced to sit with Shouyou on the squad’s bus rather than with his volleyball club to hear him whine about his hopeless, romantic endeavor of the day.
Clearly, Inarizaki was so done with Interhigh as Riseki’s pessimism started to project at an incredibly large scale and was in no mood to deal with Shouyou’s antics.
How they became best friends, he’ll never understand.
But Shouyou was stubborn, pressing on the issue as if their school hadn’t just faced a devastating defeat.
“Look, clearly it’s not gonna end in yer favor. Ya said it yerself, he’s Atsumu-san’s friend. Your brother’s friend. Off-limits. Just return his stuff and get on with yer lives.” Riseki then looks to him with deep contemplation. “You will return it, right?”
“Wha- of course I will! ‘Em not a creep or somethin’.”
“I highly doubt that.”
Shouyou takes no offense that his best friend didn’t have the heart to completely believe in him, and that was fine because he didn’t believe in himself either.
This is much was proven when Shouyou got home red in the face and determined to write the best goddamn letter he could ever wax poetry with. Playing in the background was the album Speak Now on full blast for motivation before his mother came up to tell him to keep it down.
Ten drafts, two pages, and one fat lick on the envelope’s seal gum later, Shouyou stuffs the letter into a parcel full of soft, lemondrops as acting as packing peanuts and a ziplock of Sakusa Kiyoomi’s ID. An orange ribbon on top of the box as a finishing touch.
He decides to hold onto the jacket, for now, convincing himself that it was only imperative to have it dry cleaned first. For the more selfish and actual reasons, however, Shouyou needed something to hold onto, a connection per se in hopes that Sakusa would write back.
This wasn’t the modern way of starting a courtship, and it would be best described as textbook Wattpad fiction where the pretty-faced cheerleader ends up catching feelings for their rival school’s star athlete. But Shouyou was determined not to let the story of them end in tragedy just yet.
All he had to do now was wait.