Number One - SakuAtsu ✔︎

Chapter 4

He was a fool. A big fucking fool to assume that those words were all, well, just words. He was an even bigger fool to let Atsumu worm his way into his brain and convince him to agree with his stupid proposal. He really should’ve stayed with Komori in his preppy school─ although that hadn’t been his choice.

"You want me to what, Miya Number One? Do I look like an idiot?" Kiyoomi asked tiredly, the last client of the day having left a mere ten minutes prior, which meant that he had not even had a second to escape the blond, against his best wishes.

His assistant tidied the counter not even two metres away, evidently eavesdropping on their conversation. Kiyoomi could hardly care about that though.

"Well, no? BUT, it's on a Sunday! Yer free, I'm free, you can hang out with yer best friend and-"

"You're not my best friend," Kiyoomi interrupted.

"Rude,” Atsumu huffed. “Anyways, they'll have good food and drinks."

Nothing about hanging out at a pool with a group of loud volleyball players was exciting. Not a thing. Not even the fact that they were going to a resort and Atsumu had begged their coach to allow him to drag Kiyoomi along.

It would almost be a disgrace to decline the offer after having someone beg for his presence but then again, he never wanted to go, not even if he had been begged beforehand. It was honestly all of Atsumu’s problem.

"What kind of food?" Kiyoomi asked, narrowing his eyes because truthfully, that part was tempting as hell.

"Hmm, Samu's providin' so, onigiri but there's also gonna be dessert. Pastries, sweets, a lot of chocolate, and who knows what all," Atsumu replied, a smirk on his face as Kiyoomi tried hard not to obviously crumble in excitement at the thought of stuffing himself with free sweets. "And the drinks? All kinds. Probably coffee or somethin’ bitter. Really, how does someone who has the biggest sweet tooth, enjoy bitter, plain coffee and other atrocious drinks?"

"Shut up, Miya Number One. Why the hell do you even know what food I like?"

Atsumu was offended. His face morphed into disbelief and if Kiyoomi weren't wearing his mask, he’d be certain that an unbothered yet disgusted expression was on display.

"The hell do ya mean, Omi-Omi? I've been yer best friend for years! Hell, ya were even my first for everythin' and ya still have the audacity to ask?!"

"Don't say, 'first for everything,' stupid! It makes it sound as if we've done nasty stuff!"

"I can speak how I wanna!" Atsumu insisted, sticking out his tongue like an actual child.

Both of them, twenty-two years of age, acting like children. Well, Atsumu more than Kiyoomi, but still, absolute children.

"Fine,” Kiyoomi caved reluctantly. “Time?" 

"Seven."

Kiyoomi nodded before ushering Atsumu out with a sigh, insisting he wasn't helping at all with keeping the air quality clean which was true to some extent because he so happened to enjoy dropping in on times where he’d sometimes be covered in sweat, thighs glistening dangerously─ Kiyoomi scolding him and forcing him to shower in the spa area─ and other times, he would’ve showered but that didn’t mean he didn't bring in suspicious street germs. It was Atsumu. He would definitely have weirder and more germs than the average person considering Kiyoomi had heard enough stories of how the volleyball team enjoyed dumpster diving or chasing after stray cats just to pet them.

Right as the blond was having the door slammed behind, he whooped in glee while bouncing as he made his way home. Kiyoomi couldn't help but smile to himself. Miya Fucking Atsumu was sometimes adorable.

"Do you like him?" His assistant asked.

"Hell no. He's insufferable and messy as hell," Kiyoomi snapped.

But the response was too quick and his face firmer than usual. Neither of them believed the words that came out sounding as if he were trying to hide a big secret. Mayhaps it was a big secret because not even Kiyoomi himself could convince himself that he liked the blond Miya.

Only the slowly forming soft spot in his heart would blatantly shove it in his face with mockery in time and then he’d know, he was whipped.

._._.

Kiyoomi wanted to die. Not even the sunshades and mask he wore could cover his want to disappear. Gloves covered his hands, and his legs provided the only amount of skin being shown. He was at a pool for crying out loud! He'd look stupid wearing long jeans so, of course, he had to pull on his only pair of swimming shorts that were surprisingly shorter than the last time he wore them. Which seemed like some time ago. They were now mid-thigh instead of just above the knee.

Really, it was free real estate in Atsumu's opinion. He could feast his eyes all he wanted as the curly haired sat on a pool chair toasting in the sun, arms crossed. His pale thighs were on full display, tempting Atsumu to just get up and slap them.

"Miya Number One, kindly fuck off and stop staring at me," Kiyoomi snapped. "Where the fuck is the food you so promised? Hmm? I'm going home if I'm not fed soon enough."

Atsumu rolled his eyes. Kiyoomi was cute as shit but he was unbearable at times. And he learned that that was especially when he was hungry. He had known Kiyoomi for years upon years, and his behaviour then was just typical him but with a hint of extra sourness since it was ten in the damn morning and he hadn't eaten anything yet.

"Oh come on, Omi-Omi! Ya know where the damn food area is! Ya could've eaten two hours ago if ya wanted!"

"Well, you’re the one who insisted I come to a stupid jock party and you’re the one that should provide for me because of that!"

"Are ya implyin’ that ya want me ta be by yer side all day? Ya want me to take care of ya? I don't have a problem with that since this is a rare occasion," Atsumu teased, not expecting the other to lift his glasses to glare at him, except the glare held no bite.

It was more of a soft glare holding a smile. He'd know. He had experienced countless upon countless glares along with a range and variety. This glare was an extremely rare one.

So rare he didn't even know if he had seen it before.

Pulling himself out of the pool, Kiyoomi's eyes followed his flexing muscles and dripping water. He swore to himself it was all just because he had studied the human body in school, and studying Atsumu's moves was just, well, education.

His shades saved his day by blocking out his hard stares and before he could snap himself back into pretending he wasn't internally drooling, a slap landed on his exposed thigh, a wet hand print the only thing left, and he was more than certain a giant print would be left in a while.

"Slap me again or so help me god!" Kiyoomi growled, using a hand towel to wipe off the water that now began to roll into his inner leg.

"Or what, Omi-Omi? You'll slap my ass? I'll take that as an honour."

The day was going worse than he ever thought. That was when he decided it wouldn't hurt to end the blond right there. He wanted the pool to suck in the Miya and flush him down a surprise whirlpool. His shades and mask were working wonders for his facial expressions that day and if they weren't on, his glowing face would've definitely been poked at.

He needed Motoya there to distract everyone with an embarrassingly nerdy comment.

"No. I'll shave off the sides of your hair and dye the top pink the next time you visit," Kiyoomi threatened weakly.

He was hungry. He was definitely hungry. Atsumu had to feed him within twenty minutes, or else he'd turn cranky. Not snotty or cold but like an actual child and just about to cry while wielding a cute pout. Honestly, Atsumu knew that, and it was almost tempting to hold off on food just to see that, but he'd literally die if he'd do it spitefully.

Kiyoomi would make sure of his downfall.