#had to drizzle in some suna suspense at the end

[dira333]

Senpai - Komori x reader

for the Haikyuu Request Game - requested by @alienaiver

He heard the story, like everyone else.

That hotshot from Karasuno with the buzz head had managed to score the legendary beauty that was Karasuno’s third-year manager. 

Relationships between players and managers weren’t uncommon but as far as Komori knew, the girls were usually the ones that were younger.

But there he was, Tanaka Ryunosuke, the proof that exceptions confirm the rule.

If only Komori could have been as lucky, he thought, as you graduated and left the school.

-

He’s a first year and training camp is a terrible mix of consoling his cousin and trying not to fall behind.

He needs to prove his place on the court just as much as Kiyoomi but he needs to prove his place on the team a little bit more.

“Here, your water.” You smile as you hand out the bottles, golden sunlight casting a halo around you as you walk through the throng of people catching their breath.

He’s not been in love before, has merely fancied one girl over the other in Junior High.

But this, the rapid beating of his heart, the longing pull that starts behind his navel and steers him towards you, always towards you, this must be love.

-

“My girlfriend-” It’s not polite but Komori has learned to tone out Washio every time he starts a sentence like that.

“So, what do you think?” Washio’s grinning at him and Suna‘s smirking next to him like he knows exactly what’s going on but choosing to enjoy the show instead of helping.

“About what?” 

“What I just said.”

“I wasn’t li-” Komori interrupts himself by turning his head, still way too attuned to your sight. But could it really be?”

“Earth to Komori, are you listening?”

“You guys go ahead.” He grins and fears that it must look a little bit hysterical, “I just realized I urgently need a coffee before we watch that movie.”

“You’re right.” Suna’s voice drawls lazily as he eyes Komori, ever the instigator, “I’ll come with you.”

“No, no. I’ll get you one. I know what you drink anyway. Go on, go ahead.”

-

“Is he okay?” You ask when Sakusa hides in the corner yet again.

The worry is visible on your face, painting shadows where none have been before.

He’s seen you cheerful, has seen you determined, but never worried like this. It creates a strange feeling in his chest, pulling him apart in two very distinct directions.

He wants to see more of this, wants to explore all there is to explore, see all the colors of emotion you can be painted in.

And he wants you to be never worried at all. Wants the shadows to disappear until you’re bathed in nothing but light.

Your hand is warm on his elbow as the two of you look over at Kiyoomi.

His voice is thick as he speaks but for a different reason than you must assume.

“He’s not good with crowds.”

“What can we do to help?”

That’s how he knows that he’s lost to this feeling.

Because in all your struggles, helping others has always come first.

-

By the time he makes it into the coffee shop he’d seen you walk in, he fears you might have already left again.

But there you are, waiting for your drink, still as beautiful as you’d been years ago.

“Senpai?” 

Oh god, he shouldn’t have called out to you like this, your name would have been way better, right?

But you look up and he cantell you recogniz him, pleasant surprise washing over your face.

“Komori-kun!” You smile. “What a surprise!”

“I just saw you walk past and had to say hi.” He tells you, feeling surprisingly shy all over again. You’ve always had that effect on him.

“What are you doing? Can I buy you a coffee?”

You laugh, taking your cup from the barista just as he utters the words. 

“That’s very sweet of you. I was just out shopping but I have some time, we could sit down and chat a bit if you want?”

He nods eagerly, following you to a table.

“What have you been up to, Senpai?” He asks, too happy about the fact you’re willing to spend your free time with him to care about anything at all.

-

You’re giggling at the back of the bus, heads stuck together over a movie playing on his phone. Kiyoomi is sleeping next to them, his curled-up body the reason you’d come back in the first place.

Talking to you has always been easy, the only Senpai he’s allowed to call by first name.

He wonders if you know how he feels about you. If it’s as visible on his face as it is on the inside.

Second-year just started and he’s already dreading the end of it, having to go through another year without you by their side. By his side.

He knows so much about you now, has learned so much in one year of knowing you yet feels like he doesn’t know enough.

He knows why you decided to become a manager instead of a member of the Girls Volleyball Club but he doesn’t know how you feel when you watch them instead of playing yourself.

He knows you’re struggling with a chronic illness you’re still not fully grasping the extent of but he doesn’t know how you feel about it on your good days, on your bad days, on the days that fall in the middle of it all.

He knows that you love their team but he doesn’t know how you feel about him, just that he’s younger than you, will always be younger than you and all girls in his class are looking at the older guys instead, never the other way around.

-

“Oh no, I should get going.” You look at your watch with a frown on your face. “I totally lost track of the time.”

“Oh, we should, I mean, we could…” Komori’s stumbling over his words now, “I’d like to do that again. If you want, I mean.”

You smile politely. “It was very nice, but I don’t go out for coffee often.”

Komori’s thinking of Tanaka, of the rare exceptions proving the rule, and he takes his heart into his mouth.

“What about a date?”

“Huh?” You look surprised, but not in a negative way, and he soldiers on.

“I’ve been interested in you ever since you were a manager for us but I was too shy to confess to you back then. But we’re older now and we’re both single and I’d like to take you out on a date. Only if you’re comfortable with it, though. I don’t want to pressure you, Senpai.”

Your face had been open and curious up until his last word, your brows furrowing at the formal term. Komori knows when he’s fucking up and this seems to be the moment for him.

“Or you can take your time and think about it first,” he tries to save what he can. “I can give you my number.”

There’s a moment of stillness between the two of you, as if even the world is holding its breath to wait for your answer.

“Yes, that would be okay.”

His hand’s shaking as he scribbles down his number, his heart in his throat.

He’d never thought he’d get the chance to confess to you, not after you graduated.

But as you leave he can’t help the thought that this isn’t going to work out.

He’s just not Tanaka.

He’s not the exception.

-

It’s custom to hand your second button to the person you like the most on the day of your graduation.

But by the time he graduates you’re no longer a student at their school.

He plucks the button from his jacket the minute he steps out of the house, pushing it into his bag until it’s somewhere hidden between his books. He hopes that it will be out of sight and out of mind but he cannot stop thinking about it.

Not when Kiyoomi throws him a knowing look.

Not when seemingly everyone passing them wonders aloud who had gotten his second button first.

And it’s not that no one asks for the button.

It’s the fact that he’s learned what he wants and even if there might be another person out there for him, someone like you but not like you, they’re not at school with him today.

-

One day, two days, three days pass without a word from you.

Komori should have known.

“You seem down, man.” Washio blocks the door of the changing room, worry in his eyes.

“Yeah, you were so happy after you ditched us at the movies, what happened?” Suna’s trying to act as cool as ever but the fact that he’s staying behind with Washio tells Komori that his teammate is worried.

“‘s nothing guys.” He tries to deflect but Washio’s not stepping aside.

“Spill.”

And maybe it’s the fact that these boys have not been on a team with him in High school, have never met you before or known his awkward self trying to hide his crush, but as soon as the first words fall from his lips he can’t stop talking, pouring it all out.

“Damn.” Washio huffs out when he ends while Suna’s on his phone again, chewing on his lip as he types.

“That’s her?” He turns his phone to your instagram profile. It’s a picture of you smiling at the beach, volleyball  tucked under your arm. 

“Yeah.” Komori mumbles, worried for whatever Suna might say next. But he just pockets his phone and claps one hand on his shoulder, pressing the firm muscle as if to tell him, without words, that he knows exactly what he’s feeling right now.

At least he’s not going through this alone.

-.-.-.-

“My name is Komori Motoya. I played Libero at the Dōshō Junior High. I look forward to playing with you. Please take care of me.” He bows with the other boys but none of them stick out to you like he does.

It’s not that he’s got talent. Because Sakusa does too.

It’s not that he’s tall. Because Sakusa is taller.

It’s not even the fact that he’s cute. Because Tsukasa might be cuter.

You can’t tell what it is, but you can point out when it shows.

In the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles or his mouth curls when he thinks.

In the way he manages to make everyone open up - even you - and never seems to get tired of listening to his cousin's rants. 

You know he has a great future ahead and you wish him the best of luck, hoping against all common sense that your future might intertwine.

Sufferers of chronic illnesses and future sports stars rarely have many things in common.

At least you’ve had High School.

-

One hour. Two hours. Three hours.

You can’t take it anymore, phone pressed against your ear as you wait for the call to be picked up.

You don’t wait for your best friend to properly greet you before the words spill from your lips like the surge of waves.

“Do you remember Komori?”

“Komori?”

“Komori Motoya? Libero? Second Year? Do you remember him?”

“Please, I’d never forget that tall bean pole of sweetness. You had such a crush on him, it was insane. What made you think of him?”

Your chewing on your nails now, a trait you thought you’d gotten over.

“I met him today. We-we had a coffee together.”

“Oh, that’s cute.”

“CUTE?” You huff and apologize for your outbreak instantly, pacing your room now in another futile attempt to calm yourself down.

“He confessed to me. I don’t know what to do!”

“What do you mean? You say yes, of course.”

“But- What about never dating younger guys?”

“Please. you’re both grown ups now, that’s different. But tell me all the details first, I have to live through you, remember?”

-

“Here, take my jacket.” Komori’s jersey jacket envelopes you like a blanket, still warm from his own body heat. It smells like him too, a little bit sweet and a little bit citrusy.

You try not to dip your nose into it and fail but he’s not noticing it, eyes ahead as you walk, his hand a steadying presence on your back.

“I can gather the things myself.” You remind him. “Surely you need the rest after training.”

“It’s okay.” He smiles down at you and your steps falter the slightest bit, your heart betraying you by jumping at the familiar sight. “You would have to walk multiple times and with me we can get this done in one.”

And you think that’s it. That he’s just helpful like he always is. But he always, always cuts into your resolve with his words and his smile. Always, always makes you think that maybe, just maybe, you should give in.

“Besides. I like spending time with you.”

His hand brushes yours as you walk and you wonder what would happen if you just took it, felt the warmth of his pulse under your fingers, allowed yourself to be loved by him.

But your future is still dangling in front of you with its fangs revealed. The future is scary and unsure of many things but tests and doctors telling you all the things you won’t be able to do.

Love is often a fickle thing. 

You’d rather look back knowing you could have had him than look back and know that you lost him.

-

You give yourself 24 hours to think this over before you text him. 

At 23 hours and thirty minutes you decide that enough is enough and send him the text you’d spent thirty minutes revising with your friend yesterday.

There’s no answer.

No read sign, no dancing dots. 

You tell yourself that he’s probably still training and force yourself to put your phone away.

Two days pass until your phone vibrates with a message you’d almost given up on.

But as you open the text, you freeze in your spot.

“I’m sorry, you must have the wrong number. My name’s not Komori.”

He’d given you a wrong number.

But he’d sounded so certain, so honest…

-

“Never have I ever broken a bone.” He teases, eyes sparkling as he watches you take a sip of your soda.

The rest of the team is sprinkled across the restaurant, Sakusa just a few seats over talking with your first-year manager about the importance of sanitizing the volleyballs properly.

She’s clearly infatuated with him and he’s clearly oblivious to it.

“Never have I ever broken my word.” You test him and his mouth curls as he thinks before shaking his head.

You shouldn’t look too closely at his lips, shouldn’t think too much about his eyes, but the end of the school year is nearing, graduation looming over you and the sight of his face is the only thing keeping you sane some days.

-

Two days.

Two days you spend doubting yourself, your perception of him.

On Monday you give in to the quiet voice mumbling in the back of your brain, reminding you of hours spent in the gym with him, laughing at his jokes, marveling at how easy comforting others comes to him.

He’s a good guy, always has been.

You think of his shy smile as you type the numbers you’d googled earlier, think of him blushing as you listen to the ringing on the other side.

“EJP Raijin management, Nishida Sadao speaking, how can I help you?”

“Hello Nishida-san, I am calling today with an unusual request but I hope you can help me…”

-

You cry on your graduation day.

Most people cry on their graduation day. 

Some of them shed happy tears, and some of them get their heart broken.

You wonder if you’re the first to break your own heart.

When will the time come when you can trust your decisions?

When will the time come when you can allow yourself to live?

You tell yourself that you will find someone else. Someone like him but not like him.

-

You’re still wearing your office attire, well aware of how out of place you’re looking as the doors open and one athlete after the other leaves the gym, throwing you curious glances.

Every time you hear the creaking sound of the door opening, you stand up a little straighter, fight the nervous fidgeting of your hands and the urge to chew on your nails again.

This time, a dark-haired man steps out, golden eyes landing on you just like with everyone else before. But while everyone else had looked away again, trying to seem polite, his eyes widened in surprise and he let out something that sounded like a string of curse words before he slipped back inside.

A second later, the door opens again, this time to Komori who’s looking at someone behind him.

“Suna, what are you doing? What do you me-” He stops when he sees you, blood rushing to his face in a blush so vivid you’ve never seen before.

“Hi.” You speak first when he seems unable to open his mouth.

“I tried texting you.” You soldier on this time, tongue dry in your mouth, heart hammering in your chest. “But I got the wrong number. At first, I thought it might have been on purpose…”

“It wasn’t.” He bursts out, blushing even more as he stammers. “I must have… I didn’t… I meant.”

You lift the bag in your arms, a thermos peaking out of the top. “Do you want to go for coffee?” You ask, well aware that it’s well past 6 p.m.

But his eyes glitter as he steps closer, just like they did in High School when you handed him his water bottle.

“Are you sure?” He asks and you know exactly how he feels.

You nod, a smile pulling at your lips.

“After all, you still owe me your second button.”

-

Love comes to those who grasp it.

Love comes to those who are patient, trusting that when it appears once it will appear twice.

Love comes to those who know that right person wrong time is not the end of it all.

After all, time isn’t linear.

It overlaps like the petals of a rose.

-

Liberos are usually the shortest player on the team. Komori isn’t.

Managers usually fall in love with the older players. You didn’t.

How lucky to be the exception to confirm the rule.

But, as Suna thinks to himself, watching the two of you leave that night, there might not be a rule to this at all.

And if there is no rhyme and rule to this game, he might still have a chance.

My Kofi if you want to tip me