#tbh i might’ve already yapped about this but STILL.

[azriaann]

it would’ve been interesting if lucy rewriting the book of end would’ve somehow connected her to natsu… like every time he starts slipping into his demon tendencies (if that actually happened🙄) her scars (BECAUSE SHE SHOULD HAVE SCARS FROM BEING BURNED) would like flare up and she’d be like “oh no😨…” like… the possibilities for compelling storylines are endless but so so underused….

[kuroopaisen]

little changes | i (miya atsumu)

➵ miya atsumu is the bane of your existence. but, that means different things at different times of your life. 

PART TWO

wc: 6.9k (i know)

warnings: f!reader, cursing (too much tbh)

a/n: hi i couldn’t get this out of head so here you go,,, there’ll be a second part tomorrow 

The first time you'd met, he'd pushed you into a puddle.

"Slow down!" You yelled, chest heaving as you tried to catch up to the two boys ahead of you. Even at seven years old, their legs were significantly longer than yours.

The twins scrambled to a stop, looking over their shoulders at you.

"Hurry up!" Atsumu yapped. "If you can't keep up, we're gonna leave you behind."

"That's unfair!" You pouted, stumbling to a stop in front of them. "You can't just leave me out!"

Atsumu stared at you for a moment.

One clean shove, and you were on your butt, muck and water splashing up around you.

"What'd you do that for?" You yapped, looking up at the boy with a glare strong enough to kill a god.

"You were bein' annoyin'."

"Hey!"

"That's not cool, 'Tsumu," Osamu sighed, holding out a hand to you.

Atsumu shrugged, letting out a long, exaggerated yawn.

That was the day you decided that Miya Atsumu was your arch-nemesis.

Not much had changed since that day. Miya Atsumu was, to put it lightly, the bane of your existence.

Middle school brought him no maturity. If anything, he got worse. He treated you like a nuisance, your friendship with Osamu be damned. But unfortunately, the two of them were rarely apart. And apparently being around you was better than being bored.

"You can't spike a ball for shit," he mumbled, shaking his head at you.

"Oi, language!"

"Shuddup," he rolled his eyes, turning his back to you. "You're so borin'."

He always called you that. Boring.

You glared at him, clenching your fists. You were just trying to play along with them. Sure, your volleyball skills left something to be desired. But Osamu didn't mind. And you wanted to play with your friend, his shitstain of a brother be damned.

"Yeah, well–" You sucked in your breath, trying to think of something very cruel – but not profane, because you're only eleven and swearing is one of the worst things you could do – to say to him. "You're a bastard!"

He looked over his shoulder at you, one eyebrow raised. Did his silence spell your victory?

"Pig."

Nope.  

That was just the first of many monikers Miya Atsumu gave to you. He had so many, in fact, that it seemed he was allergic to calling you by your name. Pig seemed to be a particular favourite.

But, you always prided yourself on being tough. It took more than a few paltry words to do some real damage to you. And you were determined to not let Atsumu get the upper hand.

And yet, some days he did. They were rare, but they stung like nothing else. It was the days he got possessive. The days he told you to piss off, that he wanted to hang out with Osamu and he didn't want you there to ruin it.

You told yourself that it didn't matter. That you couldn't care less what he thought of you. But it wasn't enough to shift that awful little feeling that came with being told you were unwanted.

"Don't listen to him," Osamu sighed, hand clumsily patting your back. "He's just… like that. He sucks."

You sniffed, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "Yeah."

You were just mad at yourself for crying. Thankfully, Atsumu had stalked off before you'd crumpled. But still. You'd let him get to you. You were better than that, right? Better than him.

"I still like you," Osamu swallowed, fumbling with the right words to say in a situation like this. "I'll beat him up for you, if you want."

You shook your head, a little too vigorously. "Nah, I don't want you to get into a fight with your brother because of me."

That's what it came down to, really. The feeling that you were in the way of something important. Of something that mattered more than you. The spiteful look Atsumu would shoot you whenever Osamu spent time with you instead of him hurt most.

Osamu shook his head. "Nah, it's fine. I really want an excuse to deck him in the face sometimes."

You giggled at that. It was the first time you'd smiled all day. "Thanks, 'Samu."

--------

With each year that passed, Miya Atsumu seemed to get worse. And with each year that passed, you were baffled.

How could someone have such a garbage personality? And worse yet, why was he blessed with such immense talent? You weren't an idiot, and you weren't the sort to deny credit when it was due. The twins were good. You knew jack-shit about volleyball – you'd sworn off it ever since Atsumu had been such a bastard about it – but you knew enough to know they were impressive.

They were just first years, but they were already on the starting line-up of the volleyball team. And you were quite proud of Osamu for that. It was nice to see other people recognising his talents. He'd been humble enough about it, too. Atsumu was another matter, but you'd developed something of a talent for tuning him out. So long as he wasn't insulting you directly, you could ignore him quite well. Life was much better for it.

The only bad thing about Osamu joining the volleyball team was the fact that he now hung out with them. Which wasn't a problem, per say; you were welcome to join, and they were all cordial enough. No, the issue was that sometimes spoke about girls. And nothing was more infuriating than hearing teenage boys advise one another on how to impress girls.

"You're saying I should just… ignore her?" One of the second years frowned at one of the older boys.

"Yeah," the third year nodded. "If you ignore her, she'll get all anxious about it, and she'll keep thinkin' about you."

"Huh," the second year nodded, blinking slowly. "Isn't that kind of… I dunno… mean?"

"Very," you mumbled.

"Huh?"

"If you do that, you'll seem like an asshole. Girls don't like guys like that," you sighed, head rested on Osamu's knee as you looked up at the sky.

Hanging out with the volleyball team wasn't high on your list of favourite activities. But, you had nothing better to do.

"I thought girls liked 'bad boys'," one of the third years laughed.

"I don't wanna make any generalisations," you shrugged. "But it's better if you're friends first. So you've gotta be nice to her."

You had absolutely no experience to speak of. But it seemed like the right thing to say.

"You're only saying that because you've got a thing for Osamu."

You hadn't planned on a murder today. But Suna had just changed your plans.

"Do not," you mumbled, shutting your eyes. Don't bite back, you thought to yourself. If you bite back, they'll just tease you more.

You'd actually thought about it, once. You were sixteen, after all, and ready to yearn. But, as hard as you'd tried to convince yourself that you felt something more for Osamu had fallen flat. The thought of kissing him made you laugh, when it should've made you blush. You hadn't mentioned that to him, though. Having a girl laugh at the thought of intimacy with you was probably at least a little humiliating, regardless of who she was.

"You're lying on him as we speak," one of the team snickered.

"Because I'm tired." You opened one eye to take a glance at the team. You took a moment to visualise punching them all in the face, one by one. It was almost rhapsodic. "You all suck."

"You're not even good enough for 'Samu, anyway."

Oh. Oh.

You bolted upright, glare immediately honing in on him. "Excuse me?"

Atsumu raised an eyebrow at you. "So you think you're good enough for him?"

You opened your mouth to reply. Fuck, you didn't have anything snappy to say. Was strangling him out of the question? Oh God, you could feel your face growing redder by the second. You needed to do something–

"Oi, don't use me as an excuse to make fun of her," Osamu sighed. "You don't really think that highly of me."

"That's cold, 'Samu," Atsumu grimaced. "You really think I'd be okay with you datin' this cow?"

"What did you just call me?"

"Do you like it more when I call you a pig?"

"What on earth gave you that idea, you bastard?" 

Osamu rolled his eyes as the tirade began. Not a day went by without something like this happening. Atsumu said something contrarian, and you exploded like a little firecracker. You weren't the sort to start fights, usually. But there was something about Atsumu that always managed to get under your skin.

He'd hoped that finally entering high school would've taught Atsumu how to behave. He should've known to be wiser than to indulge himself in some wishful thinking.

"Does he always provoke her?" Aran asked, frowning.

Osamu nodded. "Uh huh. He gets a kick out of it."

"Hmm," Aran nodded, "knowing everything I do about Atsumu, that makes perfect sense."

"I keep tellin' her not to respond. It just eggs him on."

"Well, I guess it's kinda hard not to," Aran shrugged.

Osamu sighed. "Y'know, sometimes I just wish they'd get along."

Aran laughed, shaking his head. "Sorry man, can't see that happening any time soon."

--------

Being a teenager fucking sucked.

Getting dumped by an admittedly shitty boyfriend might've been some kind of rite of passage, but that didn't make it hurt any less. You'd tried to count your blessings, small as they may be. At least he hadn't dumped you over text, right?

Maybe it would've been better if he had dumped you over text. That would've given you a few hours at least to pull yourself together. Instead, he'd pulled you aside just before class had started, telling you that he was done with you. He hadn't even given you the chance to speak.

And then you'd had to walk into class and pretend everything was okay. A whole school day was far too long to try and pretend you had it together.

Behind the gym was the only place you'd managed to find the silence in which to mourn. You would've gone and cried in the bathroom if you could, but there was always someone in there. You didn't want to make a scene. And surely, nobody would come behind the gym.

"Oi."

Oh, fuck.

"What do you want?" You mumbled, lacking the courage to look at him.

"I was just tryin' to clear my head before practice," he said. "What're you doin' out here?”

"None of your business," you sniffed, your shoulders hunched and your fists scrunching the fabric of your skirt.

He sat down.

No. No, no, no.

"So," he cleared his throat, not quite looking at you. "I heard about… your ex."

"Great," you sniffed, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand. It'd already reached Atsumu? How much did he know?

"Are you… alright?" His voice was quiet, unsure.

"What do you think?" You hissed, drawing your knees up to your chest.

"Sorry," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just, uh… you've seemed kinda off today."

You shot him a look.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I just…" He sighed, hanging his head.

You pressed your lips together, trying to sift through the jumble of thoughts in your mind. It wasn't that you'd expected your relationship with that asshole to last. Far from it. You just hadn't expected it to go… like this. Not after he'd taken so much from you.

"It's just that–" The words escaped from you with a hitched breath. "It's just that… I gave him a lot, you know?" You took a deep breath. You weren't about to admit everything to fucking Atsumu of all people. But you just wanted to talk. To put the pain into words. "And he didn't have the decency to… to treat me with respect. He… He…"

"Did he hurt you?" Atsumu's tone was sharp; sharper than you'd ever heard it. He still wasn't looking directly at you. If anything, that was a small comfort.

"Not physically or anything," you shook your head, relaxing your fists. "It's just that he… he treated me like shit. And… and I liked him more than I should've, I know that, but…"

You made a valiant effort at swallowing the lump in your throat. "It just fucking sucks, you know?"

You don't know why you're telling him all this. You'd already said more than you'd wanted to. But damn, did it feel good to get it off your chest.

Did you seem a bit pathetic? Fuck it. Atsumu already thought poorly of you. Letting him see you like this wouldn't be a massive hit to your pride.

And, to his credit, he's listening. You think.

"I think–" You sniffed, taking a deep breath. This was the worst part of all. "I think he's been hooking up with Eiko. Or, at least, he's been trying to."

"What, really?" Oh, he'd looked pissed. You'd never seen this amount vitriol in his face before. Not even when he was arguing with you.

"Yeah." You nodded weakly. You knew it probably wasn't Eiko's fault. And even if she had 'seduced' him, he'd still chosen to dump you over it. You just didn't have the energy to direct your anger at anyone but him.

"Fuckin' piece of shit," he grumbled. You could see him clenching his fists. You'd never thought he'd get this angry on your behalf. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Don't." You nearly reached over to grab his arm. But, you didn't. "Please, I just… I just want this to pass, okay? I don't want to create a mess."

Atsumu stared at you for one long moment. You knew he was weighing up whether or not he should listen to you. Then, he sighed. "Fine."

"Thank you," you mumbled, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. You didn't know what to say, now.

"Well," he cleared his throat, finally meeting your gaze, "if he tries anythin' with you, lemme know, okay?"

You blinked, your own brow just as furrowed as his.

"He's a pig," he grunted, "and… and you deserve better than that, 'kay?"

You stared at him. Had those words really just come from his mouth? "I thought I was the pig."

Atsumu said nothing. He doesn't know what to say. You'd never really interacted like this before. Without the barbs.

He wanted to say that, even though he makes fun of you all the time, you matter. Frankly, he doesn't really know what he'd do if you weren't there for him to pick on. He's used to you being around, you know? That bred at least a little fondness. And the thought that someone had genuinely, actually hurt you pissed him off.

But he doesn't say any of that. Because he doesn't know how to. Hell, he doesn't even know what that means.

"I, uh," he cleared his throat, standing to his feet. "I've gotta get back to practice."

He wants to tell you to text him if you need anything. But, he doesn't think that'll be very comforting, coming from him. So, he walked away.

"Hey, uh, Miya?"

He stopped in his tracks, just as surprised as you were. You never called him by his name.

"Could you, uh… could you keep this between us?" You asked, your throat alarmingly dry. "I'd rather 'Samu didn't know about this. I'm worried that… that he might do something stupid."

Atsumu looked over his shoulder at you. It's a small moment, a quiet one.

He just shrugs. "'Kay."

The next time you're watching them play, you're not just cheering for Osamu.

--------

It's over. Finally.

And you couldn't be more relieved.

Of course, you were going to miss your friends. And of course, all the changes that were about to come your way were fucking terrifying.

But high school sucked. And being a teenager sucked. You couldn't wait to move on from all of that. To make a real person of yourself. And you were going to Tokyo. Tokyo. You'd always lived in Hyogo; the thought of living somewhere so vastly different was downright exhilarating.

But before all that, you had to survive your goodbyes. You'd made it through the graduation ceremony well enough; in truth, you'd zoned out a little.

But now you were all outside, and it was finally time to say goodbye for good. And quite frankly, you hadn't expected to be so emotional. Honestly, you were just proud of yourself for keeping it together. Nobody else was crying – yet – and you'd be damned if you were the first person to lose composure.

You'd managed to say goodbye to most of your friends with a smile, and you'd even bid farewell to your beloved literature teacher without getting too miserable. Surely, there wouldn't be too many people left to see.

A flash of grey and yellow at your right.

Oh no. You had to speak to Osamu. That'd do it.

"Oi!" You called out, hurdling towards him.

Osamu turned around, raising a hand at you. Atsumu glanced in your direction, but he made no effort to greet you. Asshole.

"C'mere," Osamu smiled, opening his arms up.

You threw yourself into them, wrapping your arms around his neck as you supported yourself on your tip-toes. He smiled, chuckling in your ear. Good God, you were going to miss him.

"We did it," you smiled, squeezing him tight.

"Somehow." It was subtle, but you could feel the joy in his voice.

"Good job on getting into TSUJI," you beamed, dropping down as he released you from his grasp.

"Thanks," he smiled, reaching a hand up and ruffling your hair. "University of Tokyo’s nothin' to sniff at, you know."

You blushed, despite yourself. "Yeah, well…"

"Stop bein’ so humble," he said, punching you gently in the shoulder. "Make me proud, you hear?"

"You too."

And that's enough. That's all you need to say. He wasn't big on words, and that was okay. It had always been okay. You knew that you guys would stay friends. Even if everyone else fell away, if you drifted from all these people you held close… you knew you'd have 'Samu.

You heard a voice calling you. You straightened your shoulders, looking up at Osamu resolutely. "I'll see you this weekend, yeah?"

"Sure," he shrugged, nodding at you.

You smiled back, feeling that persistent sting at the corners of your eyes. Your eyes flicked over to Atsumu for just a moment. He'd turned away from you once you'd thrown your arms around Osamu, opting instead to speak to some of the first years. You wondered, for one short moment, if you should try and talk to him.

Nah.

You swallowed, turning around to walk towards whoever had called your name. If you spent any more time standing still, you might not be able to hold back the tears.

You felt a tug on your sleeve, pulling you downwards.

"Oi."

You'd know that voice anywhere. "You're so rude." You shot him a glare, straightening yourself out.

Things had mellowed out a little since that day behind the gym. You wouldn't go so far as to say you were friends; he was still abrasive, and you were still struck by the urge to punch him in the face whenever he came into your field of vision.

But his words had been a little gentler. Insults abounded, but he seemed a bit more mindful. Like he was checking your mood before pushing your buttons.

Or maybe you were just imagining it. Maybe you just wanted that weird little moment between the two of you to mean something.

"What do you want, Miya?" You sighed, after a long silence.

He'd just been standing there, completely silent. He hadn't even bit back. His lips were pursed as he stared at nothing in particular. What an earth is he thinking about? You wondered.

Then, finally, he looked at you. "Wanna live together?"

You froze. Why was he so… like this? "Excuse me?"

He shrugged, hands in his pockets and an obnoxiously bored look on his face. "That's easier than findin' a roommate, right? We already know each other, and we'll both be in Tokyo."

No congratulations. No words of kindness. Nothing. Just straight to business. You weren't sure if that or the offer he'd just made was more baffling.

You bit your lip. Could there be anything worse than living with this fool? Maybe you could end up with a shitty roommate – but he'd also be a shitty roommate. How much worse could a total stranger be?

"Hey. Dickhead."

You jumped, looking up to meet his eyes. "Oh, uh… Let me think about it."

"'Kay."

And then, he was gone.

'Kay? 'Kay? That's all he'd had to say to you? After asking you to live with him? How'd he even come up with that idea? Had Osamu told him to do it? Oh, maybe it was his parents. They were quite fond of you, after all. Perhaps they thought you could keep their son in line or something.

But that wasn't your responsibility! You didn't want it to be your responsibility!  

You shook your head. No, you weren't going to let this dominate your thoughts. You would worry about Atsumu later. For now, you just had to focus on getting through the rest of today.

--------

Your reasons for living with Miya Atsumu were simple.

One: you'd avoid each other. Surely, even if you were in the same apartment, you'd give each other a wide enough berth to ensure some sense of privacy.

Two: you could live like an absolute pig and it wouldn't matter. Who cared if you didn't do your dishes that evening? It only affected him. And fuck him.

Three: you'd heard one too many horror stories about friendships being torn to pieces because of shit like this. You didn't want to risk that.

Four: you didn't want to live with a stranger.

Simple as that.

And those were the four reasons you'd told Osamu, in a paltry attempt to justify yourself. He'd been sceptical, of course – and he'd said, without an ounce of goodwill, "you don't know just how bad he is to live with" – but he hadn't tried to stop you.

But one semester was already over and done with. And things were fine.

Honestly, you were still surprised that he'd even asked this of you. But, his reasons were his own, and frankly, you didn't care what they were.

Yes, he lived like a pig. And God, you'd heard him in bed one too many times because apparently he doesn't know how to be quiet.

"It's not my fault you're not gettin' any," he'd say. You always wanted to bite back and say that you were getting more than enough, thank you very much. You were just polite enough to be quiet. But, you always decided – quite wisely – that it wasn't an argument worth getting into.

But, there's something about the freedom of simply not caring if your roommate would get mad at you for some stupid mistake that made it all worth it. You were allowed to fuck up, to make all those silly mistakes every did in that transitory stage from high school to adulthood. Nothing you could do would ruin an important friendship.

You got to learn how to be a decent person without the consequences.

"Would ya mind if I had some friends over?"

Believe it or not, but this was a big step for him. A few weeks ago, and he would've just brought them over, your feelings be damned.

"When?"

"Thursday evenin'."

"What for?"

"Just catchin' up," he shrugged.

"Is this you asking me if I'm okay with it, or is it you asking me to get out of the house?" You raised an eyebrow at him, stirring your tea.

He flashed you a grin.

You rolled your eyes. "Really?"

"Come on," he propped his chin up on his fist, beaming at you from across the kitchen counter. "Surely, you don't wanna be around when there's a buncha guys in the apartment. Do you?"

"So you're going to bring them over regardless of what I say?"

Nevermind. This wasn't a step for him at all.

"Essentially," he shrugged.

You groaned, lolling your head back.

"Can't you just go to the library or somethin'?" He pouted.

"I don't have any assignments to work on," you frowned. "It's literally only week two."

"Aren't you always tellin' me it's better to get ahead early?" He raised an eyebrow at him.

You narrowed your eyes at him, biting the inside of your cheek. "Week two's overkill."

"Well, just… do your weekly readings or somethin'."

"I'd rather do them from the comfort of my own bed."

Atsumu groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I already told 'em they could come over."

Oh, you were so ready to throttle him.

"Can't you just… make yourself busy?" He shrugged. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable or anythin'."

"You should've thought about that before inviting them over," you growled. "Shit, what are you planning on getting up to, anyway?"

He shrugged. "It'll just stress you out."

"Miya, what the fuck–"

"One of the guys thinks you're hot."

You blinked. He really knew how to be blunt, didn't he?

"And?"

"I can't promise he won't try'n hit on you."

"Yeah, and?"

Atsumu shrugged. "I dunno. I just… thought you might be a bit uncomfortable with that."

"How does he even know what I look like?"

"I showed 'em a photo."

Oh God. Of course he did.

"Why on earth would you do that?"

"I mentioned that my roommate's a chick. They wanted to see."

"Miya," you sighed, gripping your own hair. "What – and I cannot stress this enough – the fuck?"

"It didn't seem like a big deal at the time," he tilted his head at you, smiling. "I mean, I'm just as surprised at you that someone finds you attractive–"

"Shut up."

"– but I just thought you should know. Clear things up before they get too awkward, you know?"

No, you didn't.

But, you didn't really want to have this conversation anymore.

"Fine," you sighed, turning to pour the rest of your tea down the sink. For some reason, you didn't really want it anymore. "I'll find something to do."

Shouldn't be too hard. Maybe a bar or a pub would have a student's night. Maybe one of your friends would be free. There was always something to do in the city. 

"I owe you one," Atsumu grinned. You had half a mind to knock his teeth out then and there.

"You really do," you sighed, rinsing your cup out.

"Already got something in mind."

"Sounds like there's a catch," you mumbled, looking over your shoulder at him.

"No catch," he held his hands up, giving you what you assumed was his best smile.

"Has anyone ever told you you've got an untrustworthy face, Miya?"

"All the time," he grinned. "Nah, but really. No catch."

You titled your head at him, waiting for a proposal of some kind.

"I'll buy you pizza."

You scoffed. "Really? That's your consolation?"

"I'll get you the expensive shit," he shrugged. "Friday night. Promise."

"Can you even afford anything that's not from the cheapskate menu?"

"Can you?"

You shrugged at that one.

"Nah, I promise, it'll be good," he sighed. "I'll make it worth it, 'kay?"

--------

Friday nights were for Atsumu.

You weren't quite sure how it started. Something to do with him being exhausted from volleyball practice. Something to do with you being exhausted from university. Something else about how neither of you had any energy left to go out and socialise.

Whatever it was, you'd settled into a comfortable rhythm. Friday night, pizza, and a shitty movie.

These days, you actually liked having him around. Not that you were going to admit to it, though. No, you'd rather die than do anything like that.

You weren't quite sure why you'd suddenly adjusted to him. Was it because you'd known him for so long? Even if he was an absolute nuisance, he was familiar. Someone you could be a goblin around, without having to worry about him wanting to end your friendship over it. No, you'd been involved with each other far too long for that.

And honestly, it was kind of nice to have someone to relax around. While you'd managed to find some people you clicked with at university… making friends was hard. There was no-one you could be an absolute pig with yet.

So, Atsumu would do for now.

You'd just finished watching Neil Breen's Fateful Findings. It had been surprisingly easy to find a copy with Japanese subtitles; that being said, you didn't feel it had given you any clarity as to what was actually going on. Atsumu had loved it, though. He'd already tried throwing some of the quotes back at you. That was sure to make him harder to live with for at least the next week or two.

"Wanna play Smash?" He was sprawled out on the couch, looking at you with a painfully cocky expression.

"Absolutely not."

"Worried I'll beat your ass again?" Did he have to smirk after every second thing he said?

You glared at him. "Wanna say that to my face?"

He grinned, turning to face you head on. "Worried I'll beat your ass again?"

"I was having an off day," you mumbled.

"Wanna prove that, or…"

You bit the inside of your cheek. If you did play, there were two possible outcomes. The first was that you won. If you won, it'd shut him up, and you could go on with your pride more or less intact. The second was that you lost. And you weren't quite sure if you could handle his ego.

"I'll prove it to you right now," you snapped. "On this couch, with my fists."

He blinked at you.

"You're going down for good, Miya."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "I'm gonna make you squirm like the worm you are."

He laughed. A real, genuine laugh. The sort that relieved all tension from his body, erasing any hint of his usual insufferable expression.

He was actually kind of handsome.

You'd always known he had a nice body – you weren't blind, you were just too proud to admit it. And it'd gotten even nicer since graduation. Practice paid off, it seemed.

And there was something appealing about his relaxed air. About how he didn't seem to take life too seriously. It almost made him enjoyable to be around.  

Maybe that's why so many girls were interested in him.

Wait, no. They only liked him because they hadn't spoken to him yet.

Oh, right. Girls.

Something shifted in your chest. Something you had never noticed before. Something so quiet, so understated that you hadn't even realised it had made its way in there.

Oh God, you thought, what the fuck is happening to me?

Whatever it was, you didn't like it.

Miya Atsumu was hot. That, unfortunately, was a fact you were now uncomfortably aware of.

"Oi." A hand was being waved in front of your face. You jumped. "Pay attention, you pig."

Oh, nope. There he was. There's the Atsumu you were used to.

"You're a fucking bastard," you mumbled, shrinking into yourself.

You're weren't quite sure what you were saying. You'd just flicked onto autopilot. But you knew that your words were comfortable, familiar. Little insults that a child would throw around. Anything to stave off whatever that weird stirring in your stomach was.

--------

In many ways, realising Miya Atsumu was actually kind of hot ruined your life.

Were you being over-dramatic? Probably. But had things changed? Definitely. To a large extent, it was on you; glances stolen when he wasn't looking, your mind wandering to places it really shouldn't.

But he'd been acting up, too. Standing far too close to you when you were in the kitchen – close enough that you could feel his chest against your back, reaching over your head to grab a cup while damn-near draping his body over you, walking around without a shirt on in the common area…

One time, when you'd dressed up all nice for a friend's birthday, he'd brazenly checked you out. He hadn't said anything – he'd just stared. When you asked him what was wrong, he just shrugged and told you to have fun. And, of course, he'd smirked at you. You'd been ready and willing to kill him.  

Whenever you were on the couch, he always seemed to reach over you and take the remote himself instead of simply asking you to hand it to him. And sure, that wasn't all too weird – but he tended to get really close, and catch your eye for just a moment with that little smirk on his lips. Each and every time, you felt like you were going to explode.

You'd taken to sticking pillows between you on the couch, because you wouldn't be surprised if he decided to lay his head on your lap or some shit on a whim.

Maybe he was messing with you, but this sort of behaviour wasn't totally un-Atsumu. You'd seen him act like this with people before. It's just that you two had never really been close enough to warrant it. Was it just a symptom of the fact that you guys were kind of friends now? Was he just treating you like everyone else?

But some part of you was even angrier at that. You didn't want to be treated like everyone else.

God, you felt stupid for even feeling like that. Especially when you'd had an awkward morning chat with a few of his bedfellows – where each and every time, you couldn't help but marvel at the fact that he was punching so far above his weight. How on earth were people this beautiful paying attention to him?

That was starting to make more and more sense recently.

You tried not to think about it.

But that was getting harder and harder to you. You'd been kind of lonely. Some quiet part of you wanted a serious relationship; someone to come home to of an evening, to relax and unwind with. You'd even been actively looking. Not that you were about to admit that to anyone.

But men are shit. Especially ones in their early twenties.

But as resolutely as you believed that, there you were, preparing for yet another date. You'd have a particularly messy string of disasters recently; men who did little more than stare at your tits, men who had nothing interesting to say, men who thought that being an asshole was a personality…

Tonight, you hoped, would be different. Sure, you'd met this guy in an econ elective – you'd needed something easy to bring your GPA up – and that certainly wasn't a point in his favour. But, he'd taken in interest in you, despite the fact you'd never really spoken before. A few months ago, you might've turned him down. But surely he'd be better than the drivel Tinder unfailingly turned out.

Only problem was that he wanted to go somewhere chic. Somewhere fancy. Somewhere that was, quite frankly, out of your comfort zone.

"Another date?" Atsumu scoffed, leaning on the doorframe to the bathroom.

"What's it to you?" You grumbled, leant in close to the bathroom mirror. You couldn't get your makeup to look how you wanted it to; everything just seemed a little wonky, a little uneven. And your foundation hadn't settled nicely into your face. It just sat there, a tacky second skin you just wanted to slough off.

"Nothin'," Atsumu shrugged. "You've just never gone out on a Friday before."

Oh. That's right.

You shrugged, biting your cheek. "It's the only day he could get a reservation." In truth, you hadn't even thought about it.

"Same guy as before?"

You shook your head. You couldn't actually remember the last guy you'd told Atsumu about. The amount of bad dates you'd been on was getting embarrassing. "Nah. This one's a classy bastard."

He snorted. "You're kiddin', right?"

You shook your head. "I'm going to have to let him pay for the date because I genuinely don't think I can afford it."

"Yikes," he chuckled. "You know, I never really took you for a gold digger."

You had half a mind to throw your mascara at him. "Shut up."

"If you keep faffin', you'll be late."

Shit, He was right. You checked your phone. 5:25. You had five minutes to leave. You picked it up and made your way to the door, ready to squeeze past Atsumu. You turned, dashing back to the mirror and poking at your hair.

"Stop worryin'," he chuckled, waving a hand at you as he began to walk away. "You look nice."

Those words stuck with you all the way to the restaurant. They were so simple, so innocuous, but… They were touching, coming from him.

And when your date was talking to you about something you simply didn't find interesting, you couldn't get that look on Atsumu's face out of your head.

--------

The date was a veritable disaster. Possibly the worst you'd had in a while.

First of all, the guy was a total asshole. And not just the Atsumu kind – no, this one was rich. He'd had his entire life handed to him on a silver platter, and it showed. You could tolerate it, at first. But when he'd literally said, "I don't think the poor should be allowed to vote," you knew you couldn't stick around.

Second of all, you couldn't stop thinking of Atsumu and his damn smirk.

You'd gotten up without even giving your date an explanation. You'd stormed out of the restaurant in a rage, resolute on walking all the way home.

Why did it always turn out this way? The guys were either assholes, or far too self-centred for a proper relationship. If they were neither of those things, there was just no chemistry between the two of you.

God, were you the problem? Were good people just not attracted to you?

What were you supposed to do?

To top it all off, it began to rain when you were just halfway home.

As you slammed the door, you looked as awful as you felt.

Atsumu flinched, sprawled out in front of the television. He sat up a little straighter, looking at you from over the back of the couch.

"Yikes!" He scoffed. "You look like shit!"

Your breath caught in your throat. No. No, you weren't going to take this from him right now. Not tonight.

"Y'know, you wouldn't've gotten rained off if you'd just stayed in," he chuckled, propelling himself off the couch and ambling his way over to you. "What a waste…"

He came to a stop in front of you, hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatpants. He had that look on his face; that insufferable smirk he whipped out whenever he'd beaten you in something menial. That smirk that, in any other circumstance, would've made you want to punch him. But tonight, it just made you want to cry.

"You haven't said anythin'," he frowned, tilting his head at you. "You okay?"

You wanted to lie. You wanted to tell him that it was fine, that the mascara dappling your cheeks was just the result of the rain.

But you couldn't. You couldn't get the words out of your mouth.

You took a deep breath.

You stopped breathing. His arms were around you, pulling you into his chest. It was rough, the embrace of someone who wasn't used to tenderness. There's this strange stiffness to it, an admission that he doesn't really know what he's doing. But as he rests his head on your chin, you couldn't be more grateful for his efforts. Your hands found their way to his chest, balled up and tense.

"Hey," he mumbled, "hey. It's going to be okay."

You looked up at him, your throat sore from holding back a sob and eyes stinging from unshed tears.

Maybe it's because you're emotional. Or because you're tired. Or maybe it's because you're lonely, and he said a few nice things to you today.

You kissed him.

It's hot, open-mouthed as your fists grasped his shirt, pulling him down to meet you.

Your head is swimming; what the fuck is happening?

 His arms tensed around you, his lips moving to meet yours.

This is what you want. This is what you've wanted for a while now. You hadn't wanted to go on all those shitty dates. You hadn't wanted to waste your time with men you didn't care about. What you'd wanted was–

He froze.

So did you.

His hands are holding your forearms firmly as he stepped back, an inscrutable expression on his face.

"No, baby." He shook his head. "Not like this."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You flew down the hall, slamming your bedroom door.

You sank to the floor, arms finding their way around your knees. You didn't want to cry. You didn't want to dignify this evening with that. You weren't going to pity your own shitty mistakes.

Fuck the date. That wasn't even the worst part of the night.

You'd just kissed Miya fucking Atsumu. Things were finally going okay between the two of you. He'd been treating you like a human being.

And now you'd ruined it.