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todorokis-girl · 5 months ago

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Getting back with your ex? - Suna Rintarou (pt 1)

(part 2) After a painful breakup and years apart, Y/N and Suna Rintarou are forced to work together again in the world of professional volleyball. When an unexpected injury and a work trip to Okinawa bring them closer, unresolved feelings and old wounds resurface. Amidst professional obligations and personal turmoil, they must navigate their complicated past and uncertain future. Can they overcome their history and find their way back to each other, or will the lingering pain keep them apart forever?

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I shake slightly as I walk into the Olimpic team training area, bag and binder in hand. The imposing structure of the stadium looms above me, filled with the echoes of bouncing volleyballs and distant shouts. The Japan media agency was recently activated to manage the promotions and media activities for the team, and I was assigned as their specific manager. Lucky me. Kuroo deserved to be beheaded, it was his job to promote them anyway, he could do it by himself! Ok, that would be unrealistic, and I’m just pissed. Kuroo did NOT deserve to be beheaded.

Taking a deep breath, I try to steady my nerves, but I only shake more the deeper I get into the stadium. Anyone would be thrilled to work with them—actually, everyone was thrilled. I think I was the only one not foaming at the mouth to manage them; yet I think that was my downfall. Damn you, indifference. In reality, I wasn’t indifferent. In any other circumstance, I’d foam at the mouth like everyone else for the job. Yet, Suna Rintaro was a member of this team. Of course he is. I would’ve given my left arm for it to have been Osamu instead.

Suna and I dated in high school. If anything was known about me in those days, it was that I drooled for my boyfriend. As the manager for the Inarizaki team, I most definitely gave him preferential treatment, and Osamu loved to bitch about it. I missed those days.

I was head over heels, down on my knees for this man. And then he became a professional volleyball player. To quote him directly, “I don’t have the time for you.” Yet weeks later, I started seeing magazine articles of him out with different models. No time, my ass. Just say you don’t love me and move on.

I took the deepest breath I could muster and walked into the court area, laser-focused on making it to the coach first. The court was a whirlwind of activity, players diving, spiking, and shouting encouragements. My heart pounded louder with each step. I needed to ask for the remaining time from practice to talk and get to know the players as much as I could. When the coach finally spotted me, he looked me up and down with a scrutinizing gaze, then stared into my soul. Intimidating man. I smiled and extended my hand to him once I was close enough.

“Hello, sir, I’m L/N Y/N. I’m the team's new media manager, Kuroo Tetsuro had called to notify ahead of time. I was told I could have the last hour of practice to talk to the team and get to know them, if that’s okay with you, of course.”

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze piercing through my façade of calm, and gave a deep sigh. “Yes.”

I smiled and stood back, giving him the space to address the team when he thought it prudent. “Everyone, head to the showers and meet this young lady in the conference room in 10.”

A chorus of “Yes, sir” rang around the court, followed by the sound of sneakers squeaking on the floor. The players began to disperse, casting curious glances my way. Before anyone could properly look at me, I bowed to the coach and attempted to make a run to the conference room after being given directions.

“Y/N.” I stopped in my tracks, my eyes widening as I recognized the voice of Suna.

“Who?”

“Y/N, c’mon.”

“I really don’t know who you’re talking about. I don’t know this... Y/N, was it?”

“I can see it’s you. I know it’s you. I’d recognize your back anywhere.”

I spun around immediately, ready to chew him out for what he was insinuating, but I was met by his bright smile, almost as if he was expecting it. His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Yeah, no doubt about it. That’s my girl.”

I stopped the words that were about to spill out of my mouth and replaced them with a different set. “I’m not your girl anymore.” I looked down at my watch, more for symbolic effect than to check the time. “I will definitely be telling Coach Foster if you’re late to the conference room. You have five minutes left.”

Without giving him a chance to process what had happened, I turned again and headed pointedly to the conference room, my steps echoing my determination.

As I marched towards the conference room, my thoughts were a whirlwind. The confrontation with Suna had set my nerves alight, but I couldn’t afford to lose my focus. The team’s future media presence rested on my shoulders, and I had to be professional, no matter how tangled my past with Suna was.

The conference room was a stark contrast to the bustling court. It was quiet and orderly, with a long table in the center surrounded by sleek chairs. I set my bag and binder down, pulling out my notes and arranging them meticulously. I had just enough time to compose myself before the players started trickling in.

First came Sakusa Kiyoomi, his expression inscrutable as he took a seat at the far end of the table. He gave a curt nod, acknowledging my presence without a word. Next were Hinata Shoyo and Bokuto Koutarou, chatting animatedly and filling the room with their infectious energy. They greeted me with enthusiastic smiles, making me feel a bit more at ease.

Finally, Suna walked in, casual and confident, as if our earlier exchange hadn’t affected him at all. He took a seat near the middle, flashing me a knowing grin. I ignored him and turned to face the team.

“Thank you all for coming,” I began, trying to keep my voice steady. “As you know, my agency has been hired to manage your media presence; Kuroo Tetsuro will handle the rest of the coordinations or team promotions. My goal is to help each of you shine, both on and off the court. I’ll be working closely with you to develop your public personas and ensure you get the recognition you deserve.”

I paused, gauging their reactions. Most of the team seemed receptive, though Sakusa remained impassive. Suna leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“To start, I’d like to get to know each of you better,” I continued. “Understanding your personalities, interests, and goals will help me tailor our approach to suit you individually. We’ll go around the table, and each of you can share a bit about yourselves. Let’s start with you, Hinata.”

Hinata beamed and launched into a lively account of his journey in volleyball, his eyes shining with passion. His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon, the rest of the team was sharing their stories, laughing and bonding over shared experiences. Even Sakusa offered a few guarded sentences, and I could sense the walls between us beginning to crumble.

When it was Suna’s turn, he spoke with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, detailing his rise to fame with practiced ease. I couldn’t help but notice the glances he threw my way, testing my reactions. “I even had a girlfriend once, with me all the way to the start of my professional career; can’t believe I let ‘er go” I met his gaze evenly, refusing to let him see how much he affected me.

“Thank you for sharing, Suna,” I said, cutting him off before he could drag out his story any longer. “It’s clear that each of you brings something unique to the team, and I’m excited to work with you all.”

I glanced at my notes, ready to move on to the next part of the meeting. “Now, let’s talk about some of the upcoming promotional events and media opportunities. We have a few scheduled interviews, photo shoots, and public appearances. I’ll need your cooperation and input to make sure we present you in the best possible light.”

The discussion flowed smoothly, with the players offering ideas and feedback. Despite the initial tension, the atmosphere gradually became more collaborative. By the end of the meeting, I felt a sense of accomplishment. We were laying the foundation for a successful partnership, and I was determined to prove myself as their media manager.

As the team began to disperse, Suna lingered behind, his eyes following me as I gathered my things. I braced myself for another confrontation, but he simply leaned against the table, watching me with an amused expression.

“You handled that well, Y/N,” he said, his tone surprisingly sincere. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but you’ve still got that fire.”

I paused, meeting his gaze. “I’m here to do a job, Suna. That’s all.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Sure, if that’s what you want to believe.”

“What I want to believe? You think I asked for this position?” I was appalled that he was suggesting I deliberately choose this to seek him out.

He gave me a cocky grin and without another word, he pushed off from the table and walked out, leaving me standing there with a mix of emotions. I took a deep breath, pushing aside the memories and focusing on the task at hand. There was a lot of work to be done, and I was ready to face it head-on. Suna was NOT going to make me lose my head. He let me go once, and I had given him all of myself, it wasn’t happening again. Kuroo was definitely getting an earful ‘don’t be so dramatic, It’s gonna be fine’.

I huffed to myself finally stepping out of the room and on my way to my car, my hand automatically reaching for my phone, if I had to vent, Kuroo was getting it.

As I reached my car and slid into the driver's seat, I quickly unlocked my phone and dialed Kuroo's number. The phone rang a few times before his familiar, lazy voice answered.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“What’s up? Seriously, Kuroo? You dumped the Olympic team’s media management on me, that’s what’s up!”

He chuckled, and I could practically hear his smug grin through the phone. “I knew you could handle it. You’re the best we’ve got.”

“Flattery isn’t going to save you,” I snapped, gripping the steering wheel. “You could have at least warned me about Suna being on the team. Do you have any idea how awkward that was?”

There was a brief pause, and then Kuroo sighed. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. You’re professionals, right? Just… don’t let him get to you.”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered. “He’s still as infuriating as ever.”

“Look, just focus on the job. You’re great at what you do, and the team needs you. Besides, Suna’s just one player. Don’t let him distract you.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just… complicated.”

“I know. But you’ve got this. If anyone can turn this team into media darlings, it’s you.”

“Thanks, Kuroo. I’ll do my best.”

“That's my girl,” he said with a note of pride in his voice. “Keep me updated, okay?”

“Will do. And Kuroo?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time, give me a heads-up, will you?”

He laughed. “You got it. Take care, Y/N.”

I hung up and took a few moments to collect myself before starting the car. The drive home was a blur, my mind occupied with thoughts of Suna and the daunting task ahead. By the time I pulled into my driveway, I had resolved to put all personal feelings aside and focus solely on my work.

The next morning, I arrived at the training facility early, armed with my binder and a renewed sense of determination. Today, I had individual meetings scheduled with each player to discuss their personal branding and media strategy. I hoped to gain a deeper understanding of their personalities and how best to present them to the public.

Hinata was first. His energy was infectious, and his enthusiasm for the sport shone through every word he said. We discussed his goals and how to leverage his vibrant personality to connect with fans.

Next was Bokuto, who was equally charismatic but in a more boisterous way. His love for the game was palpable, and I made notes on how to highlight his dynamic presence in interviews and social media.

Sakusa was a bit more challenging. He was reserved and guarded, but I managed to coax out his interests and preferences. We discussed ways to showcase his quieter, more introspective side while still appealing to the team's fanbase.

Finally, it was Suna’s turn. He sauntered into the conference room with his usual nonchalance, sitting down across from me with a smirk.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

I ignored his tone and focused on my notes. “Alright, Suna. I want to understand your goals and how we can present you to the public. What are you hoping to achieve with your media presence?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You really think people care about that stuff?”

“Yes, I do. Your fans want to know more about you than just your performance on the court. They want to connect with you as a person.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. I want to be seen as a serious athlete. I don’t want all that fluff and nonsense. Just focus on my game.”

I nodded, jotting down his words. “Got it. We’ll highlight your dedication and professionalism. Anything else you want to add?”

He studied me for a moment, his gaze intense. “You still care about what people think, don’t you?”

I met his eyes, refusing to back down. “It’s my job to care, Suna. And it’s yours too, whether you like it or not.”

He smirked again, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes. “You’ve changed, Y/N. You’re tougher now.”

“I had to be,” I replied, packing up my things. “Meeting’s over. Thanks for your time.”

As I walked out of the room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Suna was watching me, his eyes lingering longer than necessary. I pushed the thought aside and focused on the task at hand. There was still a lot of work to be done, and I was determined to succeed.

Over the next few weeks, I threw myself into my work, coordinating interviews, photo shoots, and public appearances. The players gradually warmed up to me, and we began to build a cohesive media strategy that highlighted their unique strengths.

Despite my initial apprehension, things started to fall into place. The team’s media presence improved, and their popularity soared. Even Sakusa, with his reserved nature, began to open up in front of the camera.

Through it all, Suna remained a constant challenge. He was professional during our meetings, but there was always an undercurrent of tension between us. Yet, I couldn’t deny that working with him pushed me to be better, to stay focused and not let my emotions get in the way.

One evening, after a particularly successful interview session, I found myself alone in the conference room, reviewing the footage. The door creaked open, and Suna walked in, his expression unreadable.

“Hey,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” I replied, not looking up from my notes.

He walked over and sat down across from me, his gaze fixed on my face. “You’ve done a good job with the team.”

“Thanks,” I said, still focused on my work. “We’re not done yet, though. There’s always room for improvement.”

“Yeah, but you’ve made a difference. Even I can see that.”

I finally looked up, meeting his eyes. “What do you want, Suna?”

He leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. For everything. High school, the way I ended things. I was a jerk.”

I blinked, taken aback by his sudden sincerity. “Why now?”

“Because I’ve had a lot of time to think. And seeing you here, working so hard, made me realize how much I messed up.”

I sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration. “I appreciate the apology, Suna. But it doesn’t change what happened.”

He stays silence his eyes seeming to be inspecting my face, as if looking for something else “I know, I still wanted to try”

I studied his face, searching for any hint of insincerity. But all I saw was genuine regret. “Fine”

He smiled, a real, honest smile that made my heart ache with nostalgia. I hate that I genuinely miss him.

As he stood up to leave, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders; but a certain, different desire settled in me. I watched him leave, and closed my eyes for a second. It seems watching him leave was all I knew how to do.

I turned back to my notes. There was still a lot of work to be done, and I was ready to face it head-on, no matter what challenges came my way; but maybe I needed Kuroo to come along with me more often, even if he was busy getting the schedules and making the plans.

One afternoon, after hours of looking through notes and interview footage, I found myself in the staff lounge, nursing a cup of coffee. The room was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. I was lost in thought when the door opened, and Kuroo walked in, looking as tired as I felt.

“Hey,” he said, flopping down in the chair next to mine. “How’s it going?”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Busy. Exhausting. But good. The team’s doing great.”

Kuroo nodded, taking a sip of his own coffee. “You’re doing an amazing job, Y/N. Glad I choose you to help me out, I don’t know how I’d do it without you”

I smiled, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “Thanks, Kuroo, I apreciate the apreciation; what are you doing here anyway? Mister sports promoter not have a big fancy office at a big fancy building?”

He raised an eyebrow and turned to face me, the scrutiny in his eyes heavy “I want to wear gym clothes every once in a while, and I cant do that at the office. Miss sports media manager” I smiled and nooded, showing I understood.

I mean, he was right, one of the couple of upside of working in the training arena was the ability of being able to show up in sweats and leggings, as it was the most proper attire.

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “But seriously, if you need anything, just let me know. We’re in this together, even if I am technically your boss”

“Actually,” I said, glancing at him, “I was thinking if you could come along to a few more of the meetings. Having you there would make things a bit easier.” My voice filled with hope.

Kuroo looked at me, his expression thoughtful. “Of course. I’ll rearrange my schedule. All the player meetings or someone in particular?”

I felt like a deer caugh in headlights “well… uhm…”

“So just Suna Rintarou?” he asked with a knowing tone, and I couldn’t deny it; I just hoped he would agree to it and not pull the ‘I’m your boss’ card, not that he ever did “Sure, I’ll do the meetings with Suna and pass along the info”

“Thanks, Kuroo,” I said, feeling a wave of relief wash over me.

He grinned, standing up. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. Let me know when the meetings with Suna are”

“Will do,” I replied, watching him leave the lounge. As I turned back to my coffee, noticing it was cold.

I was going to start seeing Suna a lot less often, no more weekly meetings with him, and I would try to make my time in the office a little more unnavailable to him by doing them exclusively during practice hours. This was something high school me would’ve come up with, and I knew that, but I don’t currently have the mental space to come up with something better.

(part 2)

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