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kodzukuroken · 2 years ago

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the walls are thin - ch2

in which atsumu is your college neighbor with whom you share a wall. previous | ch2 | masterlist

// stupid, annoying, really attractive, super funny, ravishingly charming atsumu ~ ᴀᴛsᴜᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 6214 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: 18+ suggestive bits (& eventual smut), cafe date, incessant flirting, self-indulgent flirtationship with hanamaki, seijoh4 group chat, jealous, relentless, adorable, plantsitter atsumu, afab reader she/her pronouns

send an ask and i’ll add ya to the taglist! ~ ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

the second that you close your door, you can’t help but speak aloud to yourself, “what the fuck was that?” you run both of your hands through your hair, leaning against the other side of the door “what the fuck was that?” you say, louder this time accompanied by a harsh scoff and only the start of another sentence, “i- fucking-.”

it’s nearly 2 in the morning. you left your dorm room over half an hour ago tired and annoyed and now you can’t fucking imagine sleeping. you know that you won’t have to deal with any banging, that time has come and gone. and it figures that the one night you know you’re guaranteed no more noises, you’re shocked awake by one stupid fucking interaction.

your dorm room isn’t big by any means. there really isn’t enough room to pace the floor and yet here you are, walking the length repetitively, turning on your heel when you couldn’t walk forwards any longer. when atsumu wasn’t in front of you, it was easy enough to maintain your annoyance or, at the bare minimum, not instantly forgive him for being so inconsiderate. it was easy enough to pretend that at some point tomorrow you were going to bring up this fact.

“hey, so about my sleep schedule,” you practice aloud, well, aloud was an understatement, more like every few syllables made it past your lips. you shake your head, groaning to yourself as you sit down on the edge of your bed. “funny story, actually,” you say, gesturing with your hands to the thought of tomorrow’s atsumu. “fuck.”

maybe instead you would just focus on saying actual cohesive words this time. maybe that would be enough.

/++/

yesterday, yesterday you were caught off guard. you were tired. you were defeated. you thought you would have to return to a room full of irritatingly repetitive noises. it wasn’t even a thought in your mind that you’d meet him last night. you weren’t going to take the blame for the state you were in or the way that he affected you.

but today? today you were a new person, reinvigorated by the 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep you got, the productiveness of your 9am class, and the will to make sure that you looked like an actual human being when he saw you this time. you wouldn’t admit it, the amount of time and effort and the preparation that you took in your appearance, made sure to sneak around your dorm so as to not hint that you were awake early.

the entire time that you’re getting ready, there are a million thoughts going through your head. most of them circle around the fear that you’re going to look like an idiot again. some of them about how stupid it was that you were going to lunch with the person who’s made your life the most difficult in these past months. and the most recent one you’ve landed on is that the two of you never settled on a time. what if you spent that much time getting ready, wasted countless hours of pointless thinking about things that just weren’t going to happen? what if he didn’t remember or just blew you off?

knock knock knock. you scramble to your feet from the seated position you resided in on the floor. 12:01pm. you don’t have to peek through your peephole to know who was at your door, but you do anyway.

and god are you glad that you did. it at least gave you some time to be prepared for the sight that was a dressed up, put together, looking far too good in casual wear atsumu. it’s silly now, in hindsight, that you hadn’t thought of the fact that he would also have time to be put together today rather than you catching him completely off guard on your walk home.

but you’re smart. you take a step away from the door, take a deep breath, and call out, “grabbing my bag, one sec.” that will buy you a few moments to prepare yourself. you throw on your shoes, grab your bag like you said you were, and you take one last look through the peephole.

then it hits you. he did also have the ability and time to get ready just like you and, just like you, he obviously utilized every second of it. you smile a bit to yourself, turning the knob and opening your door. “cannot believe my quietness has finally earned me a free lunch.” it comes out of you easily, not forced. you didn’t have to think about it all night or mull over it while you were getting ready.

he doesn’t say anything back to you as you step outside into the hallway next to him, turning around and locking the door behind you. in fact, all you get in return is a small laugh so you push on, “where are you taking me?”

“oh, yea,” he clears his throat, “what are you in the mood for?”

“you’re going to make your date choose where we go to eat?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows at him before focusing on putting your keys in your bag. besides, you’re not sure that you could keep this up if you kept making eye contact with him.

“i- well,” he tries, stopping himself and starting again. he gets a bit more traction, regains a bit more of the ground that he lost the second you looked that good standing in your doorway. “a date? i’m not sure i’m dressed up enough for a date-”

“i think you look really nice,” you say, holding eye contact with him as long as you can bare it. you don’t dare look down, don’t allow yourself the pleasure of taking him in, not yet. instead, you place your hand on his chest for just a fraction of a moment, just enough for the flat of your palm to feel a single heartbeat, and then you turn to walk down the hall.

you’re already making your way towards the elevator, nodding your head towards the exit as if he hasn’t also lived there the past 2 months. “hey! you stole my line!” god, he’s not used to this. he stammers as he jogs to catch up to you. guess you’re not the one that looks like an idiot this time.

“gotta be quicker than that,” you say, turning around once you’ve gotten to the elevator, putting your weight into your heels as he takes two long strides to catch up with you. in those two long strides, you let yourself falter, breath catching as you make the mistake of taking him in as he steps right in front of you.

his blonde hair is no longer tangled in the back, but you still find yourself wanting to run your fingers through it, still find yourself wanting to know how easy it is to get as tangled as it was yesterday, still find yourself wanting to hear the sound that comes out of him when you grab a fistful. the neatness of it all is making it even worse.

he’s wearing a different jacket this time, dark denim, no longer shirtless underneath but wearing a plain white t-shirt that’s loosely tucked into his cuffed -fucking cuffed- tan pants. his bangs are no longer resting against his forehead, instead pushed up and back revealing more of his face, revealing more of this two step behind expression on his face.

and, fuck, if you couldn’t look at that forever.

it’s gone too soon, replaced by a devilish smile, hand out in front of him as he steps closer to you, palm upturned as reaches towards you. your eyes widen despite wanting to flutter shut and you’re about to lean into his touch when he continues his motion right past you, clicking the elevator button and letting his hand linger, halfway bracketing you in. “gotta be quicker than that,” he says.

/++/

you let him choose where the two of you go for lunch, a small little cafe at the very edge of town, away from the business of the campus and the multitude of college students. you had never been there before, this small hidden gem in the vicinity of a crazy college town.

atsumu also chooses your booth, sliding into a secluded one in the corner of the cafe away from the few patrons on laptops or coffee dates. “so did i do a good job choosing our first date place?” he asks.

you’re amused, you won’t lie. and you know that you’re the one that brought up the date joke in the first place, but there’s something about the way that he says “first date” that makes it feel a bit too real. still, you play along, tapping your chin, chewing on your bottom lip, swerving your head from side to side. “really great, but i don’t know how you’re going to top it for our second one.”

he smirks. you’ve pulled a smirk from him. he leans forwards, arms crossed over one another on the table. “i’m not usually a second date typa guy,” he admits and there’s absolutely no way that your face isn’t bright fucking red. whatever feelings you were feeling yesterday are nothing compared to this moment. your stomach feels like it’s going to come up your throat and you have to make a quick decision as a whimper threatens to leave along with it.

ahem. you clear your throat, shaking your head as you do, covering your mouth, hoping that it covers part of the burning in your cheeks. he doesn’t give you any time to recover. “so maybe let’s not call this our first date so that i can actually take you out sometime,” he follows up. it’s not making your situation much better.

you reach your hand out, wrapping it around his forearm, not expecting it to feel so strong in your grasp, but you suppose that was your misjudgement. you tighten your grip, begging for the attention to be taken off your face and given to the contact you’ve just created. “we’ll see how good of company you are for lunch, first, yeah?”

he speaks after a second, nodding along, “that seems fair.”

and then it’s quiet, but neither of you seem to mind, not when you have these few moments to just sit there looking at each other, your nails gently scraping against his skin.

you break the silence first, “so, what do you do for fun?”

“oh, hm, well, i-,” he stammers, laughing, obviously not expecting that question. “i play volleyball a bit and i go to parties and i mean, yea, that’s basically how i spend my freetime.” maybe that was a bit easier of an answer than a different girl every night. he’s about to reciprocate the question when an older woman stops by the table.

“the usual, atsumu?” the waitress asks, a light, friendly touch placed on his shoulder.

the question takes you by surprise, repeats in your head as you rattle off your order as politely as you can while you put the pieces together. what are you thinking. what are you thinking. what are you thinking.

of course he’s been there before. he’s probably taken a handful of his one night stands here. the nights that you’ve spent struggling to fall asleep or at maki’s or in the library probably started right here with a conversation very similar to the one that you’re having now. you weren’t above having a one night stand. you weren’t judging him for having many of them. you weren’t even regretting this lunch because you’ve just been reminded of the fact that you’re not special in the eyes of miya atsumu.

you’re regretting the fuck-me eyes you’re flashing and the less than clean thoughts that you’re having because you’re not going to fuck your neighbor who is notorious for one night stands are you kidding.

suddenly the booth seems a bit too warm, shifting in your seat, taking your hands and putting them back on your side of the table. you still smile at him sweetly. you still shoot him a few flirty questions. you still ogle at him from your side of the table, but that’s as far as it’s going to go you decide.

/++/

he walks you back to your door which isn’t really saying much since he lives right next to it. you’re not sure if he’s going to try to talk to you again after he realizes that you’re not interested in taking this further than what it is right now. maybe he’s holding out hope or thinking that you’ll break in the next 24 hours or by the time he asks you out to dinner inevitably, because you’ve never been extraordinarily great at reading body language, but his is loud and clear. he wants to kiss you or move your hair out of your face or hug you or stroke your cheek or something.

his body is leaning forward, not actively, just positionally, but he leaves room for you to make the move and as much as you want to close the gap, fumble with his door handle until you can pull him inside, and finally be the one who can enjoy atsumu’s one night stand for once, you motion to your door. “i’ve gotta get ready to meet a few friends, but i’m sure i will see you around.”

you fish your key out of your bag, unlocking the door, ready to say one final goodbye before entering your own room, but he says, “wait!” you do so. “can i have your number?”

you chuckle, furrowing your eyebrows at the thought. “what do you need my phone number for? you live right next to me?” you prop the door open with your foot, grabbing onto the door frame instead.

“right and how well did that work for us seeing each other all semester?” he asks, “besides, what if i want to bother you when you’re not home?”

with your freehand that isn’t on the frame, you mimic your motion from before, resting the flat of your palm against atsumu’s sternum, patting a few times, “take a number.” and if luck and karma was on your side, the smirk and wink that you throw at him will have him just as stunned outside of his door as you were last night.

/++/

as soon as you’ve closed the door, you let out a breath you’re not even really sure you knew you were holding. what were you thinking? flirting with your neighbor that you know is having one night stand after one night stand? flirting with your neighbor that is super inconsiderate and doesn’t care about the people around him he’s affecting? flirting with your neighbor that is incredibly fucking hot and that you have incredible chemistry with? flirting with your neighbor that you could be fucking right now if you had just played your cards right instead of having to hear him fuck some other girl tonight? shit. what were you thinking?

you shake your head, sitting down at your desk and finally checking your phone.

2 new messages.

> issei / 1:03 pm > can you fucking believe yn blew us off today without so much as a text

> maki <3 / 1:04 pm > maybe she’s sleeping right through lunch.

shit. how did you forget that you were supposed to have lunch with them today instead. well i mean you know why you forgot. but how could you forget to even just text them and let them know.

< 3:23 pm < shit sorry guys.

> kawa / 3:32 pm > sorry really isn’t going to get you out of admitting that you didn’t tell lover boy off last night???????????

< 3:32 pm < are u guys at ur dorm??? < i’m coming over

> maki <3 / 3:43 pm > hajime’s at class > the rest of us are

> hajime / 3:45 pm > i want to know? > and if i get a footnotes version > i will be so mad

> maki <3 / 3:46 pm > then don’t be in class, loser

> maki <3 / 3:48 pm > i’m sorry. it was a joke.

> maki <3 / 3:52 pm > guys please.

< 4:04 pm < omw to save maki’s ass

> maki <3 / 4:04 pm > and that’s why i love u.

/++/

you feel like you’ve been talking for ages, explaining everything, not sparing any little detail (except for the feelings, you definitely left the feelings out). the three men look at you in disbelief. oikawa takes a deep breath and then closes his mouth and then opens it once more, “okay, yn, when we said to confront your neighbor, we didn’t mean…” his voice trails off, but your brain fills in the blanks.

“i know,” you say through your teeth, “i obviously know in theory that i shouldn’t be flirting with my neighbor who is obviously trying to get with me.” all three of them stare back at you, waiting for a but, “...but, i don’t know, he’s just really attractive.”

“hardly an excuse,” maki responds from behind you on the couch.

“that’s because you don’t know what it’s like to have that effect on someone,” issei says, shrugging as if it were just fact. it causes you and oikawa to burst out in laughter, maki’s cheeks tinged with soft red as a result.

catching your breath, you sigh, “no, maki’s right, i know it’s not an excuse and i’m not going to do it,” you pause, blowing out air, “he’s just kinda cool to hang out with. the banter is fun and he’s nice to look at and i’m not sure i know how to hang out with him without excessively flirting with him.”

“i’m sure it’s not that hard, yn,” maki quips, voice evidently joking in a way that actually makes the situation weirdly easier. he is right. you did manage the rest of the day.

“don’t mind him,” issei rests a hand on your shoulder and you catch his attention just long enough to catch the smirk that comes with it, “maki’s just jealous he’s not your only crush now.”

“yea, yn, maybe i’m just jealous i’m not your only crush now,” maki repeats, arms folded.

“hey, i mean, it doesn’t matter, anyway,” you shake your head, “i don’t think he’s going to be trying to talk to me after he finds out that i’m not planning on having sex with him.” you stand up from the couch, placing your hand softly on maki’s shoulder, “you will soon be my only crush once again.”

“good. that’s how it should be.” maki gives a short nod.

“sure, behind me and hajime,” issei responds back and you’re already getting a bad feeling about the quizzical look on maki’s face. oikawa scoffs, a rebuttal already coming out of his mouth, but he’s interrupted.

“really? because yn actually said that i was her favorite,” maki says sweetly despite the destruction he’s about to bring to the room.

a volume of protests erupt from the other two men sitting in the room. “oh! look at the time! i’ve gotta head back!” you say, checking your nonexistent watch and backing up towards the door.

“fine! leave! traitor!” oikawa scowls. you blow the group a small kiss before slipping out of the room.

/++/

unfortunately for a lot of people, atsumu surprises you. unfortunate for maki, your second crush; your friend group for missing out on your typical presence; your own expectations; and you’re sure, atsumu, who just wanted to have sex with his cute neighbor.

he doesn’t just hang out with you once more and then decide to stop talking to you. he hangs out with you 6(7?) times in the next few days: lunch every day, a walk to the corner store, dinner, and a 45 minute talk in the hallway if you count that as hanging out. brought on either bumping into you or deliberately knocking on your door to coerce you into doing something with him.

by the third hangout, he meets your energy, flirting with you in tiny quantities, no more than he would flirt with a close friend. and it feels almost impossible, but you’re getting the suspicion that he actually wants to be friends with you. he has a million girls to choose from that he doesn’t have to try nearly as hard for, so why else would he continue to hang out with you like this?

he makes it so easy to want to be friends with him. after your initial infatuation wears off, he’s just atsumu, stupid, annoying, really attractive, super funny, ravishingly charming atsumu. and more than any of this, he makes it so easy because his room has been so quiet these past few days. you’ve gotten a good night’s sleep every single day since you started hanging out more regularly.

there’s a tiny part of you that wants to chalk that up to you and how much you’ve been hanging out, but during one of your lunches he tells you about how rough volleyball is and that, unfortunately, makes more sense than him meeting you caused him to not want to fuck other people.

“i literally don’t have time for anything,” he said, shoving food into his mouth, checking his watch. “it has been nonstop practices, prep, training, matches.” he shook his head.

“right, but you have time to hang out with me,” you pointed out.

he laughed, lips spread wide to show his perfect smile, “okay. i have time for one thing and that is you, i guess.” he paused, swallowing his food. you could’ve fill the silence with more teasing and bantering, but you just waited patiently for him to speak again, not because you were trying to impress him, but because you could see that he was about to say something and you didn’t want to miss it. “i love volleyball, of course i do, but i’m ready to slow down just a little bit.” he made a pinching motion with his fingers. “‘m really glad spring break is this week. ready to get back to some routine at least.”

that’s exactly where atsumu is right now, fitting in another practice when he’s supposed to be eating because he gets an entire week off just like everyone else but unlike everyone else, he has to physically prepare for that.

“god, the first lunch that we’ve had with just the two of us in-” he checks his phone, “5 days.” he shakes his head disapprovingly. “unacceptable.” you set your lunch down on the picnic table.

“i know, i know, i’m sorry,” you say, swinging your leg over the bench.

maki shrugs, “sorry isn’t good enough, i need you to make it up to me.”

“what do you want me to-,” you start, throwing your hands up in the air, ready, in the back of your mind, to give him the cookie in your bag that you really got for yourself.

“yn?” you hear from behind you. you don’t need to look to know who it is, that voice has permanently ingrained in your head this week.

“y’know what, this works. this counts,” maki says as atsumu approaches your table.

“maki, i swear to go-,” you start again and atsumu unintentionally interrupts you again, walking up close enough to your table. “hey!”

you notice that jacket from the first time you met and those shorts from the first time you met and those shoulders from the first time you met and that messy hair and crooked smile. you notice all of those, easily enough to recognize when you’ve seen it all before, but there is something there on his face that isn’t as easy to recognize, because you haven’t seen it before.

“are you just getting back from practice?” you ask.

atsumu runs his fingers through his already messed up hair, combing through the brassy locks before nodding his head, “yeah, i just got done. tomorrow’s the last one until we get back from break.”

“you told me this morning when we left at the same time, yes,” you tease, pointing for emphasis. he would normally play right back, poke fun or just laugh at your observation, but instead his eyes keep flicking over to maki.

“oh! sorry, i didn’t- yea, this is atsumu,” you nod towards atsumu, “he’s-.”

“you’re yn’s neighbor,” maki fills in all by himself, “the volleyball guy.”

“amongst other things,” atsumu adds on.

“you sure are,” maki smirks, “i’m maki.” he gives a small wave, and you know that he’s purposely omitting a title.

“maki’s just a friend,” you blurt, trying to slouch your shoulders and lean back to seem more casual, like the statement you just said wasn’t so pointed, like you couldn’t feel the tension. you swear to god you watch atsumu’s shoulders mirror yours.

“well, it’s nice to meet you,” atsumu replies. it’s not as dry as it could be, evidently shaking off whatever it was he was feeling a few moments ago, but the second that he turns to you and talks, it’s warm, “i’ll catch you later, okay?”

“yes! we still have stuff to go over before tomorrow!” you yell towards him even though he’s only taken 3 baby steps backwards.

“alright, alright, quit you’re yellin’,” he smiles, “you know where to find me.”

you watch him turn around and jog away, brisk and perfect form, and you’re not sure if you let out a lovey sigh or if it’s hanamaki mocking you or if you just thought it. anyway you slice it, there was a lovey sigh as he was jogging back.

“oh my god he absolutely wants to fuck you,” maki laughs, “and we are even for like the next 10 things you do, oh my god that was so worth it.”

you punch his shoulder, narrowing your eyes, “not. cool.”

“9 now. 9 things.”

/++/

true to his word, you knew exactly where to find him.

when he opens his door, you’re expecting him to look irritated or bothered or uninterested for having to do this, but he greets you with a half-smile and steps out into the hallway with you. “okay,” you step into your room. “i’ve color coded them and i’ve included a chart. you literally can’t fuck it up. whatever the color, you refer to the little chart and you check the time slot when you’ve watered them, got it?”

“yn, i’m not going to kill your plants,” atsumu deadpans. “you know where i live.”

you let your giggles escape you, “are you ever going to stop using that joke?”

he pauses for a second, and in that second you realize how close he’s standing to you, how softly he’s looking you in the eyes, “maybe when you stop laughing at it.”

you turn away from him quickly, trying your best to hide the warmth in your cheekbones. “okay. noted,” you only half joke. “just,” you walk over to the chart beside the window sill titled atsumu’s plant checklist (pls dont kill these guys) ♡ “follow the chart and you’re right, you will not kill them.”

“got it,” atsumu nods genuinely.

you point at him. “and in return,” you turn around and tap on the 10 digits in the bottom corner of the paper. “i am finally giving you my phone number.”

atsumu fakes a gasp, “for bothering you when you’re not home?”

“no! no. you will use this for emergency’s only. i am entrusting you with my dorm key,” you wave it in your hand above your head, “and if anything happens-,” you say, backing up, shaking your head.

“nothing’s going to happen,” atsumu steps forward with you as you back up, lunging forward and grabbing your wrist, “now what are you so afraid of?” he doesn’t let go of your wrist, not as he cocks his head to the side and lowers your hand, pushing his fingers into your fist to grab the loosely held key.

“okay then,” you say, quiet, really quiet because he’s pretty close and you don’t need to be screaming into his ear and your stomach is not letting you talk any louder, “i will see you in two weeks.”

he drops your wrist, slowly, not all at once, lets you feel his soft skin on yours until the very last second. “me, and all of your very alive plants, will see you in two weeks.”

unlike most everyone else on campus, you were leaving for two weeks instead of one, split equally between spring break free time and a university sanctioned event. this meant a really cool and fun two weeks away from classes and the mundane. it also meant two weeks away from maki and atsumu and your plants and your bed.

you grab your duffle bag that you had packed previously, slinging it over your shoulder. both you and atsumu leave your room. atsumu locks the door with your key, checking that the door is properly locked like you’ve never seen him do with his own. “two weeks,” he says, pointing at you as you walk down the hallway. you shake your head, “two weeks.”

bzzzz bzzzz. before you’re even out of the building you get a text.

> unknown / 7:20 pm > about your plants… > have a safe trip 😚

yeah, your trip wouldn’t be so bad.

/++/

> 12:34 pm > i’m back in 10, pls let’s get foooood

> tsumu / 12:35 pm > for sure. drop ur bags and we’re going > srsly 1 minute and im leaving without u

you did exactly that, opened your door for just a fraction of a second to throw your bag inside and then started banging on atsumu’s door, not stopping until he’s opened it, not even when he yells, “i’m coming, i’m coming, hold on.” when the door flings open, you’re met with maybe too many emotions, namely excitement and a realization of just how much you missed him. “god, so impatient,” is what’s coming out of his mouth before his eyes have settled on you, his face contorted into playful annoyance. the end of the sentence trails off and the playful annoyance is replaced with a smile and an expression similar to the one you’re wearing.

there is no hesitance, from either of you, as you extend your arms out and wrap them around him. his arms follow suite at the exact same speed as if both of you had the idea at the exact same time, mutually exclusive in this reaction to seeing each other for the first time in two weeks. his arms clasping around your waist tightly, strongly and you try to match the squeeze as much as you can and you’re wondering if he’s feeling as safe as you are right now.

you don’t even have it in your head to feel off about how closely the two of you are pressed together, not when you’re breathing in his scent, clean and a pinprick dab of soft cologne, not when you can feel his heartbeat against the side of your cheek. and definitely not when he squeezes you just a fraction tighter as he says, “missed ya.” there’s no way he didn’t feel your heart skip a beat.

truthfully, there wasn’t a single day during that 2 weeks that you didn’t text with atsumu. but, the same could be said about maki, so it’s not really that big of a deal, right? though, you suppose, maki wasn’t the first person that you texted the second you stepped foot back on campus. and maki wasn’t the one that you spent a solid minute hugging within the first minute you saw him. and maki wasn’t sitting in front of you eating lunch now, a lingering smile on his face that hasn’t quite left from that moment. and maki didn’t buy you lunch as a welcome back present.

but it’s still not that big of a deal.

“what is that supposed to mean?!” you laugh, leaning forward, eyebrows knit together and, you’re sure, an adorably confused look on your face.

“i meant what i said, i get it,” atsumu tries, putting his hands up in faux defeat.

“you get why this 50 year old man tried to give me a keycard to go back to his room with him?” you repeat, trying to make sure that you’re actually hearing him correctly.

“game recognize game,” he shrugs.

“you’re fucking ridiculous,” you shake your head, but you’re not even trying to hide the huge grin, laughing as you reach over to atsumu’s plate and pick a french fry off of it. there’s a pause, a beat, that just feels natural as it passes, but as soon as he’s said his next sentence, you know that moment was thoughtful, tactical, maybe even used to muster up some courage, if not just to weigh some pros and cons.

“i mean, god, i really was trying to fuck you the first time we hung out,” atsumu says, admits, lets escape into such a crowded space, but the statement is gone as quickly as it came, carried away by the volume of the public space that you’re in. you knew this. of course you knew this, but there was still something so taboo about him saying it to your face.

what’s his angle here? you don’t even know how to respond, so you tease him, “yea, well, maybe you shouldn’t have been so insufferable and i would’ve fucked you.” you shrug your shoulders, stealing another fry.

he laughs, then, but it tapers out at the end. was that not the answer that he wanted? what was the answer that he wanted? you look at him, really look, as much as you can without seeming weird, and his smile is still as bright and his shoulders aren’t any more slumped, but there’s something in his eyes, a tiny damper that you might even have mistaken for hurt.

you wait for something to change in your conversation, but he keeps throwing jokes your way, keeps asking you about your trip, telling you about his week of school without you. the rest of your conversation goes on like normal for the most part, if not just a touch less flirty on atsumu’s end.

/++/

by the time you make it back to your room, it’s dark outside. between swiping notes from people from various classes and getting dinner with maki and hanging out with oikawa and iwa and issei at their dorm, when you actually make it to your room it’s nearly 2 in the morning. you pat at your pockets, search your tote bag, shit.

his shitty ass handwriting catches your eye. if you are not yn do not take this key. holy shit he’s a dumb ass. still, you’re grateful that he thought this far ahead at least. what if someone stole it? or just went into your room? you shake your head, moving one door over, ready to both thank him and reprimand him.

you’re about to knock on his door and then you hear it, because it’s really been ingrained in your head since the beginning of the semester, this rhythm, this noise. and you know exactly what it is. you’re looking for it now. it’s faint, but you’re listening for it. and yet, you still end up inside your room, because no matter how confident you were that that is what you were hearing in the hallway, it would be louder in your room and louder meant it was actually happening.

it’s unmistakable, really, but you put your hand on the wall just to make sure.

it’s been weeks since you’ve dealt with this, weeks since you’ve had to hear this, weeks since you’ve met atsumu and got to know him and flirted with him and got lunch with him every day and let him text you and trusted him to plantsit for you.

you move away from the wall, stand up from your bed, and walk over to set your tote bag and notes down on your desk, needing to get rid of the things that are weighing you down because you feel heavy enough as it is right now.

but sitting on your desk instead is the chart that you left atsumu, completely filled out with random smiley faces and check marks and doodles on each day and there is a new color on the bottom with one poorly drawn added box and a large, similarly badly drawn, star inside of it. next to the chart is a small cactus with the coordinated color tab wrapped around its base and a note that reads

??? cactuses are easier to take care of. please get more so next time it’s easier to take care of them. - atsumu

p.s. you’re welcome for the new plant

p.p.s AND for keeping all of your plants alive.

p.p.p.s welcome back. i missed havin u around.

p.p.p.p.s. it’s 2 days until you’re back dont hold this against me. been too quiet without u around.

for the few minutes that you’re reading and rereading the note, the sound fades away. but now you’re wishing the note was never ending because it’s back and it’s loud and fuck. fucking miya atsumu.

taglist: @natriae @simpfully-heartbroken @niverine @mobbbb1 @cloud-lyy @mimivinx @kjd55 @phantomremi @url0call1fter @kryzi @katsunarii @slut-for-dabi @ellie111593

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