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While Sakusa isn’t necessarily opposed to the idea of being tied up for fun, this isn’t exactly what he had in mind.
“So. Omi-kun.”
Sakusa’s eye twitches.
“Have you ever—ever—smooched a teammate?”
Sakusa sighs. “No.”
The man next to him—Sawamura Daichi—pauses. Then: “He’s lying.”
“Hah! I knew it.” Laughter rings out around him, and Sakusa flinches at the sharp slap of a high five.
“Nice one, Tsum Tsum!” Bokuto laughs.
“That’s surprising, Omi-san.” Hinata crouches at the table besides him. He peers curiously at Sakusa, and although it may look friendly, Sakusa knows better. He knows there’s a demon lurking behind Hinata’s innocent face. “Who was it?”
“I’m not telling you.”
Bokuto laughs again, like it’s funny. “You have to! It’s part of the video.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do!”
“No.”
“Sakusa.” Meian shoots him a look from behind the camera. Sakusa reasons that Meian is just cranky about being thoroughly interrogated by Adriah, Inunaki, and Barnes about when he’s going to propose. Meian has that look that says, if I had to suffer, then so do you.
Sakusa sighs. He hates when Meian gives him that look. It’s the same look he gives every time Sakusa tries to avoid team bonding activities. Because having to lug your drunken teammates home counts as ‘important’ and ‘irreplaceable’ and ‘absolutely mandatory’ bonding, apparently.
Sakusa isn’t convinced yet, but—like it or not—Meian is still the captain, and so long as Sakusa is a member of the Black Jackals, he’ll have to defer to him. “It was—” Sakusa pauses. His mind draws a blank, and he blurts out the first name that comes to mind. “Bokuto.”
“Huh?”
“That’s a lie,” Sawamura says.
“Y’know, I don’t need a machine to tell me that. I coulda toldja that. There’s no way in hell Bo-kun would ever kiss Omi Omi.”
“Who was it, Sakusa?” Bokuto is unfazed by Sakusa’s blatant lie, and he proceeds to tilt to the side in front of Sakusa, blocking Sakusa from the harsh fluorescent light shining in his face.
“Bokuto, get out of the way. You’re in the camera’s view.”
“Oh! Sorry.”
Sakusa suppresses a groan. This sort of promotional shoot isn’t unusual. Sakusa has done interviews, both post-game and personal. He’s done photoshoots for Nike and Adidas. He’s even made appearances for fan events, politely and respectfully answering audience questions. When Sakusa agreed to shoot a video with Buzzfeed Japan alongside the rest of the Black Jackals, he hadn’t been told sitting with a lie detector strapped around his torso would be a part of it.
There’d been email correspondences about the video before today. Sakusa hadn’t read any of it, so really, it’s his fault for not being prepared. He’d assumed this shoot would be like one of those puppy-holding-fan-question ones, which Sakusa is embarrassed to admit he watches way too frequently. Or one of the videos where they go undercover online to fact-check Wikipedia pages. Sakusa wouldn’t have minded those videos.
By ignoring the emails regarding this video shoot, Sakusa had missed out on the topic of the video: The MSBY Black Jackals Take a Lie Detector Test. It’s allegedly the kind of mind-numbing bullshit that sells these days. The studio staff had explained the set up to the team as Sakusa stared at what looked like—to him—an alternative and non-sexy form of a bondage apparatus.
He thought he’d be giving another interview cataloging his thoughts on how he balances personal health with a successful volleyball career. Instead, Sakusa is paid to sit here with a band tightened around his chest, a small plastic clip on his pointer finger, a blood pressure reader around his bicep, and Sawamura beside him calling out every layer of bullshit he tries to spew.
Sawamura looks equally as uncomfortable. Sakusa has a pang of sympathy for him. He’s not paid enough for this kind of fuckery. Sawamura probably didn’t expect to spend a Saturday afternoon using a federally-owned lie detector test with a team of brainless volleyball players clowning each other with exceedingly invasive questions. Once Adriah and Barnes started grilling Inunaki about his sex life, Sawamura gave a pained expression that Sakusa felt at his core.
Sakusa assumes none of that is going to be featured in the final cut of the video. At least, he hopes it won’t. Some conversations should never be immortalized on the internet, and that includes conversations concerning the most number of times Inunaki has done it in the span of twenty-four hours.
In the hour or so that they’ve been here so far, Sakusa has learned way too much about his teammates. He has learned the most number of times Inunaki has done it in the span of twenty-four hours; he has learned that Adriah thinks he’s the most attractive person on the team; he has learned that Hinata was the one responsible for accidentally popping two new Mikasa volleyballs within the span of three days. Sakusa supposes this is, in a way, a true group bonding activity that breaks any ice that might have been there.
He’s the second to last person to go. Atsumu will follow him right after, then Sakusa can be free from this hell hole. Everyone else has experienced the discomfort that comes with sitting in the hot seat. Ten minutes doesn’t seem like a long time in theory, but it’s ridiculously long when you’re being grilled about whether or not you’ve seen your teammates’ dicks and which dick you think is the nicest.
The band around his chest is tight. Too tight. It feels like he’s suffocating, or maybe that’s just the impending anxiety that comes with not being able to fool a machine. Sakusa isn’t a liar. At all. In fact, some people might think he’s too truthful. Sakusa doesn’t see the point in lying, not when it’s a breeding ground for miscommunication, misunderstandings, and mistakes. He takes pride in his honesty. People commend him for it. He’s committed to it.
Telling the truth, though—it’s only a good thing when it comes to questions you’re okay with being honest about.
“Can we please just get to the next question?” he snaps.
“Nope! Tell us. Who did you kiss, Omi-san? Was it someone at Itachiyama?”
“No.”
“That’s a lie.”
Atsumu snorts. Sakusa wants to pick up the stupid machine and hurl it at his face. “I bet it was that Hornets setter. What the fuck’s his name again?”
“Iizuna! He’s cute. Was it Iizuna-san?” Sakusa has decided that, starting today, Hinata is officially his least favorite team member. He doesn’t care how impressive his digs, sets, and spikes are. The team would be better off without him and his mischievous antics.
“No.”
“Another lie.” Sawamura sends him an apologetic glance while Hinata bursts out laughing. Sakusa scowls. How the hell does Atsumu even know these things? He always manages to surprise him, somehow.
“You’re really bad at lying, Omi-kun,” Atsumu comments, as if Sakusa needs him to say that.
“This better not go in the fucking video.”
Meian stifles a laugh that he covers up with a cough. “No swearing on camera, Sakusa.”
“Next question,” Bokuto interrupts. He taps his fingers on the surface of the table. Sakusa’s palms get clammy in anticipation. “Oh! Okay. I have a good one. Do you think you’re a better receiver than Hinata?”
“No,” Sakusa answers truthfully. He doesn’t mind answering these kinds of questions. He’d really like to stick to these kinds of questions—about volleyball—and absolutely nothing else. His response is confirmed when Sawamura nods.
Hinata beams. “That’s nice of you, Omi-san! I think you’re better than me, though.”
“Thank you, Hinata.”
Bokuto points at Atsumu, who stands with his hands placed on his hips. “What about serves? Do you think you’re a better server than Tsum Tsum?”
“Yes.”
“Hey!” Atsumu leans over Sawamura’s shoulder, as if he can even interpret the meaningless lines on the screen. “You’d better be lyin’ about me.”
Sawamura pauses as he squints. “Sakusa-kun’s lying.”
“Hah!” Atsumu’s face breaks out into a smile before he pauses and processes through this exchange. “Wait a fuckin’ second. Why wouldja admit to thinkin’ you’re better than Shoyo-kun, but not me?”
Sakusa shrugs. “You have a big ego.”
“He’s being honest about that, too,” Sawamura adds for good measure, and the previously smug expression on Atsumu’s face drops.
“Omi-kun.”
“Will you stop staring at me like that?”
Atsumu pouts. Seriously. He pouts . “I dunno why you keep thinkin’ I have any less of an ego as Shoyo-kun.”
“Hinata’s different.”
“The fuck? How is he different?”
“Because he’s…Hinata. You’re…not.” Sakusa almost says, You’re you, but he’s sure that’ll come off as offensive.
Hinata grins. Sakusa has heard people call him the human embodiment of the sun. He kind of wishes Hinata were the literal embodiment of the sun right now. Then he could fling himself into it and be relieved of his current duties as the person hooked up to the lie detector. “Who do you think is the best player in V. League right now?”
Sakusa considers this. “Do you mean overall, or a specific skill?”
“Overall.”
“Fishin’ for compliments, ain’t we, Shoyo-kun?” Atsumu leans over and gently shakes Hinata’s head. Sakusa watches as Atsumu’s fingers drag through Hinata’s wild orange hair, giving it a few extra fluffs for good measure. “C’mon, Omi Omi. You should tell him watcha think.”
“Overall-wise, probably Kageyama,” Sakusa answers. Hinata nods in agreement—of course he does; in his eyes, no one in the world is better than Kageyama—and Sakusa catches a glimpse of Atsumu frowning.
“You think Tobio-kun is the best player in the V. League?” Atsumu almost sounds offended. “You think he is?”
“He does,” Sawamura confirms, ignoring Atsumu’s squawks of disbelief as he notices Sakusa pulling at the band wrapped around his chest. “Sakusa-san, is the band too tight?”
“No. No, thank you. I’m okay.” Sakusa hears Atsumu sigh a frustrated noise that he turns towards him. “I think Kageyama is the best player in V. League if you consider the total sum of his skills. But he probably beats you out in individual skills, too.”
“Omi-kun!”
“It’s true,” Adriah calls out, and Atsumu flips him off. “You know you suck compared to Kageyama.”
“Everyday I’m fuckin’ disrespected by you assholes,” Atsumu mutters, and Sakusa snorts. Atsumu’s eyes snap back to him, and Sakusa raises an eyebrow.
If Atsumu has anything further to bitch about, he doesn’t say it. He places his palms on the table as he leans over, careful not to block the camera. “Omi-kun, then, what about you? What do you think about yourself? Do you think you’re good at volleyball?”
“Yes.”
“It’s the truth,” Sawamura adds.
“Do you think you’re better than Meian?”
“I think we’re fairly even.”
Atsumu raises an eyebrow at Sawamura, who nods in confirmation. “He’s being truthful.”
“Wow.” Meian feigns holding a hand over his heart. He’s supposed to be the captain of the MSBY Black Jackals, but he’s as much of a troll as the next person. “I’m touched, Sakusa.”
“He’s better at quick sets than I am,” Sakusa admits. He’s never liked quick sets that much. He prefers fours, slow and high and with ample time for preparation that allows Sakusa to set his own pace. “And blocking, too.”
“Do you think you’re better than Wan-san at receivin’?”
“No.”
“He’s lying.”
“Damn it.”
“What?” Inunaki points his finger in indignation, and Sakusa frowns at the motion. “You think you’re better than me but not Hinata? Does that mean you think Hinata’s better than I am?”
“That’s generally how rankings work, Inunaki-san.”
“That means Shoyo-kun is the best receiver on the team in Omi-kun’s eyes.” Atsumu holds out his hand again, and Hinata gives him a high five, mere centimeters in front of Sakusa’s nose. “That’s high praise comin’ from him. You better not be takin’ it for granted.”
“I’m the fucking libero. I’m the one saving your asses every time one of your spikes get blocked—”
Meian grips Inunaki’s shoulder. “Inunaki.”
Inunaki shuts up, but not without glowering at Sakusa.
Sakusa glances at the clock and sees that it’s only been two minutes. This would go by a lot faster if his teammates asked questions he was actually interested in answering. Not petty squabbles like who’s better than whom on the team. At least they haven’t strayed into the inappropriate, perverted territory. Yet.
“Let’s move on to somethin’ more juicy,” Atsumu says. “Enough about this volleyball stuff.”
“Here I thought you would never pass up on a chance to talk about volleyball,” Sakusa quips.
“For you, I’ll make an exception.”
“I don’t need you to make exceptions for me.”
“Aw, no need to get embarrassed, Omi Omi.” Atsumu leans one hand on the table, and he stands startlingly close next to Sakusa. Like most video appearances, Atsumu wears a dress shirt rolled up to the elbows and well-fitted trousers. He’s such a fucking try hard, especially considering that everyone else is wearing t-shirts and blue jeans. Sakusa showed up sporting a hoodie with his university logo on it, which he’d had to remove to make way for the polygraph attachments. “I’ll go easy on you at first to warm you up.”
“Huh,” Bokuto says, and he exchanges a glance with Hinata.
Sakusa frowns. Atsumu doesn’t seem to notice.
“Who’s your favorite member on the team?” Atsumu asks, and Hinata snickers under his breath. Atsumu is unfazed, and leans in even closer. “In general.”
“I don’t have favorites.” Sakusa swats at Atsumu’s index finger wiggling back and forth in front of his eyes.
“That’s a lie,” Sawamura says.
“Fine. Probably Coach Foster.”
“Foster doesn’t count. He ain’t even a—”
“My turn to ask a question!” Hinata shoves Atsumu out of the way, and Atsumu goes stumbling backwards before grabbing Bokuto by the arm to steady himself. “Omi-san. Do you like the nickname Tsumu-san gave you?”
“Omi Omi,” Bokuto mimics, and Atsumu scrunches his nose at the poor imitation of the Kansai dialect. “Omi-kun. Omi Omi-kun. Omi—”
“We get it, Bokuto.” Sakusa groans. “We get it.”
“Well?” Hinata puts two hands on his hips. “What are your thoughts, Omi-san?”
Sakusa’s knee-jerk reaction is to answer that he doesn’t like it at all. But the truth is, Sakusa doesn’t hate the nickname. It sort of stuck around, ever since he first walked into his first Black Jackals practice almost a year ago. He hadn’t expected it at the time, since Atsumu had referred to him as ‘Sakusa-kun’ any time they interacted in high school.
Atsumu justified the stupid nicknames because they’d be spending a lot of time together, and nicknames supposedly helped people feel more familiar around each other. Sakusa corrected Atsumu for about three practices before officially giving up. “No.”
“He’s lying.”
“So you do like it.”
“No.”
“Still lying.”
“I don’t hate it,” Sakusa explains, because the last thing he wants is for Meian and Adriah and Oliver and everyone else on the team calling him a nickname better fit for a pet than a professional volleyball player. “It’s…whatever.”
“What about Kiyoomi? Would you prefer if Atsumu called you ‘Kiyoomi-kun’ instead of Omi Omi?”
“What?” Hearing the name ‘Kiyoomi’ out of Hinata’s mouth sounds bizarre. He doesn’t remember the last time Hinata actually called him by his name. Because of Atsumu, it’s always been ‘Omi-san.’ “Why are you asking me this?”
Hinata stares pointedly at the polygraph. “You have to answer it. It’s part of the video.”
Sakusa inhales so deeply that the band tightens even more around his chest, digging into his ribs. “No, Hinata. I would not prefer it if Atsumu called me Kiyoomi-kun.”
Another pause. “He’s lying.”
Sakusa curses under his breath. Nothing can get past him.
“Huh.” Bokuto, once again, exchanges a look with Hinata, and Sakusa wants to kick them both under the table. It’s impossible given the angle that they’re standing in. So he’ll have to settle for another sigh coupled with a dirty look that both of them ignore, shit-eating grins painting their faces.
“Omi-ku—” Atsumu clears his throat. Sakusa swears he sees a light tinge of pink across the apples of Atsumu’s cheeks, but maybe he’s just imagining it. “Kiyoomi-kun.” Hearing Atsumu unironically call him by his first name is fucking bizarre, even more so than Hinata saying it. “Movin’ on to the next question. How old were you when you first had sex?”
“Miya.”
“Aw, c’mon, captain. You were the one startin’ all this dirty bedroom talk to begin with. Don’t act like you’re better than the rest of us.”
Sakusa pinches the bridge of his nose. He will not answer this question in front of a camera recording a video for the entire YouTube community to see. He will not. “I don’t think this is the appropriate venue to be asking me these types of questions, Miya.”
“Yeah.” Bokuto nods enthusiastically. Sakusa has a flash of concern in the back of his mind that Bokuto is agreeing with him. “There are lots of other appropriate venues, Tsum Tsum. You can ask him in those venues instead. Those venues would be more appropriate. Very appropriate.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Sakusa mutters.
“Do I need to remind you that Adriah already admitted to—”
“I was in university,” Sakusa interrupts, because he doesn’t need Atsumu to bring up every cursed fun fact he’s been forced to learn through whatever shitfest this video shoot has been. “That’s all I’ll say. Don’t ask for more information that none of you are privy to.”
“He’s telling the truth.” Sawamura reaches for an unopened plastic water bottle and offers it to Sakusa. Sakusa accepts it and takes a few sips. He wonders what sort of crooks Sawamura has used the polygraph on. It’s weird to think that the same machine used to determine if someone committed a murder is now being used to determine if Sakusa’s being honest about what age he lost his virginity.
“Okay. Sakusa Kiyoomi-san.” Bokuto jumps in front of the camera again, and Meian physically steps forward to pull Bokuto to the side. Bokuto is unfazed from being manhandled, and his eyes light up as he says, “On the topic of sex.” Nothing good can come from the transition ‘on the topic of sex.’ Sakusa glances at the clock again. Five minutes. He’s halfway through this. If he can survive the first five minutes, surely the second half will be a piece of cake. “When was the last time you did it?”
“Bokuto.”
“What? Everyone else answered it.”
“Can’t you—” Sakusa scrunches his face so tight that his vision begins to go fuzzy. “—ask questions that are actually interesting to talk about?”
“I think this is very interesting to talk about. Don’t you, Hinata?”
“Yeah! Don’t you think so, Tsumu-san?”
“Very interestin’ indeed.”
“So. Sex. Last time you did it.”
Sakusa strains to remember. He’s not in a relationship, and he’s not actively looking for anything, either. He’s never really been one to have one night stands. There are too many variables that could go wrong. So the last time he’d done anything even remotely romantic and sexual was too long ago to recall. “I don’t remember.”
“Bullshit.”
Sawamura shakes his head. “He’s telling the truth.”
“What? You don’t remember the last time you had sex?” The smile slips off of Bokuto’s face. It’s genuinely painful how Bokuto looks sad about this. This isn’t something he should be sad about. “Wow. I’m so sorry, Sakusa-kun.”
“Why the hell are you sorry? My sex life shouldn’t be any of your business in the first place.”
“Must’ve been pretty mediocre, then. If you don’t remember it.”
“Shut up, Miya. Not everyone is obsessed with remembering every detail pertaining to their sexual encounters to regurgitate it to the rest of the team.” Meian barks a laugh, and Atsumu scoffs in indignation. There’s a reason why Sakusa avoids spending too much time in the locker room. He doesn’t need to hear any retellings of blow jobs or hand jobs or other jobs that his teammates may or may not have given or received. “It’s not important, so I don’t remember it.”
“Can you make sure this gets edited out?” Oliver says, to no one in particular. “This isn’t winning Sakusa any points for sex appeal.”
“Fuck off.”
“Actually, I think people might find it charming,” Adriah comments, which—again—is a red flag. If Adriah finds it charming, there has to be something completely and utterly un-charming about it. Adriah is about as charming as hippo.
“Charmin’, my ass. People are just gonna comment about how Om—Kiyoomi-kun needs to get laid, then that’ll turn into weird thirst tweets with people offerin’ themselves up to help him.” Atsumu snorts. He speaks from personal experience. Not too long ago, a fan happened to find Atsumu’s now-outdated dating profile, posted a screenshot to Twitter, and unleashed a flurry of horny and desperate followers who wanted to get in Atsumu’s pants. It was enough for even Atsumu to get distressed by it, and he promptly closed all of his dating profiles for the foreseeable future. “That would be messy.”
“Who do you think will be the last one on our team to get married?” Hinata asks. Sakusa exhales a quiet sigh of relief. This question is a lot safer. Maybe Hinata isn’t so bad after all.
Sakusa thinks about this. Meian is going to propose soon (apparently). Oliver’s already married. Adriah is engaged. Bokuto and Hinata are both in long-term, committed relationships. That leaves Inunaki, himself, and Atsumu. Sakusa has no plans on getting married soon, but he has, at least, full confidence that he’ll get married before Inunaki and Atsumu. “Can I answer two names?”
Hinata nods vigorously.
“Inunaki or Atsumu.”
“What?!” Both men exclaim in tandem. Atsumu spins and glares at Inunaki at the same exact time Inunaki jabs a finger in Atsumu’s direction.
“He’s telling the truth,” Sawamura confirms.
“That’s so insulting. Oh my god. Sakusa. I’m going to get married before Atsumu does. Why the hell would you think I wouldn’t? I’m going to get married before him. I swear to fuck. I will.”
“I’m sure you will,” Sakusa says in the driest tone he can muster.
“Like hell I’ll be the last one gettin’ hitched! I’ll beat Inu-san, at least. Definitely not most people here.” Atsumu gives Sakusa the stink eye. “And y’know, Kiyoomi-kun, you aren’t exactly the most eligible candidate for marriage right now, either. Last time I checked, you were just as single as Wan-san and me!”
“Oh? You check?” Hinata perks up. “When was the last time you checked, Tsumu-san?”
Atsumu’s nose twitches as he squints at Hinata. Hinata merely giggles, scooting his chair closer to the table. Sakusa finds that his personal tolerance levels for Hinata’s suspicious behavior waver. This happens more frequently than other people might expect. Hinata has that effect on him. “I agree with that, too. Wan-san, maybe you and Atsumu can fix that by marrying each other. That way neither of you have to worry about being the last one that gets married.”
Hinata ignores Inunaki and Atsumu sputtering in protest, and he rests his elbows on the table as he looks at Sakusa with wide eyes. Sakusa taps his index finger against the table. His mouth feels a little dry, so he reaches for the bottle of water and drinks carefully from it.
“Omi-san.”
“Yes?”
“Do you think you’re better looking than me?”
Sakusa snorts. He gives Hinata a once over. Sure, he’s on the shorter side, but he’s well-built. Nice face-shape. Really nice hair. “No.”
Hinata looks at Sawamura for approval. Sawamura nods. “Truth.”
“Yes!” Hinata clenches his fist, as smug as when he scores a point. In this case, Sakusa isn’t sure what the game is. He just knows that he’s been unwillingly forced to participate. “For the record, Omi-san, I think you’re better looking than I am.”
“What about me?” Bokuto tries to shove Hinata out of the way, but Hinata remains planted in the seat. They end up sharing the chair, which is definitely not big enough for both of them. “Do you think you’re better looking than me, Sakusa?”
“No.”
“He’s telling the truth.”
“Aw.” Bokuto looks a little dejected once more. “Why don’t you think that? You should think more highly of yourself. You’re very good-looking, too. But it’s okay. Who do you think is best looking on the team?”
Sakusa clenches his jaw. He can hear Oliver snorting laughter and Hinata cackling and Meian telling Adriah to shut up. It’s not that he hasn’t thought about how attractive his teammates are. It’s impossible to not notice it, considering they spend almost every day together, in the gym and in the locker room. The locker room, in particular, leaves little to imagination. Sakusa feels his neck warm at the thought.
“Do I have to answer that?” he complains. “That’s a weird question.”
Bokuto shrugs. “All of them are weird questions.”
“Then why do—okay.” Sakusa pauses. “Meian.”
Meian lets out a self-satisfied, “Hah!” before promptly shutting up when Sawamura says, “He’s lying.” Meian frowns, though he doesn’t say anything, but Bokuto does turn to squint at Sakusa with suspicious eyes. Sakusa curses under his breath. He’d thought Meian was the most attractive when he’d first joined the team—between the tall height and the rogue-ish looks and the self-confidence found only in the most successful people—but Sakusa hadn’t been aware that that had changed over the past year.
So Sakusa tries again. “Adriah.”
Sawamura gives him a look of disbelief. “You’re still lying, Sakusa-san.”
Hinata and Bokuto erupt in another fit of giggles that makes Sakusa feel like he’s on the outside of an inside joke. That happens a lot, especially with Hinata and Bokuto. “Oliver, then.”
“Are you just going to run through the entire fucking roster?” Inunaki snorts. “You’re not even trying to lie.”
“That’s typically seen as an honorable trait,” Sakusa says flatly.
“Just answer the fuckin’ question.” Atsumu begins to grow impatient. Sakusa sees it in the annoyance that bunches in his eyebrows. “We ain’t got all day.”
“It’s not Oliver-san,” Sawamura adds. “Sakusa was lying about that.”
Sakusa huffs in indignation. He has no idea how he can possibly be lying when he’s not even sure what the truth is, either. He almost wonders if Sawamura is making stuff up just to keep things interesting for the video, but Sawamura’s a lot more serious and professional than everyone else. “Okay. Okay. Most attractive member…” Sakusa thinks about the deep tan on Hinata’s skin. Inunaki’s playful smiles. Bokuto’s broad and solid physique.
And, of course, he thinks about Atsumu, and his—well—everything.
He groans dejectedly. “I guess it would be Miya,” he says, defeated.
Atsumu does a double take. “What?”
“Oh.” Sawamura looks at the polygraph, then at Sakusa, then back at the polygraph. “That was the truth.”
“You have poor taste, Sakusa,” Adriah comments, but there isn’t any biting tone to it. To his right, Bokuto and Hinata are still snickering. Atsumu’s mouth is slightly parted, and Sakusa looks away. He picks up the water bottle again to take a tiny sip, embarrassed that they’re making such a big deal about this.
“You could stand to sound a little more excited about it,” Atsumu finally mumbles, soft enough that Sakusa doesn’t think the tiny mic clipped to Atsumu’s shirt will catch it. “You’re makin’ it sound like findin’ me attractive is the worst thing in the world.”
Sakusa doesn’t say anything. If he weren’t hooked up to a polygraph, he might add that it is the worst thing in the world. But that would just leave room for Sawamura to tell him that he’s lying, which would only complicate things further. Even though Sakusa isn’t sure what he really thinks half of the time, he’s currently learning that somewhere, deep down, he already knows the truth.
“Even though you find Tsumu-san attractive,” Hinata starts, “you don’t think he’ll get married before anyone else on the team?”
“Can we just move on?” Sakusa doesn’t want to linger on the fact that he finds Atsumu attractive. He doesn’t want to linger on the fact that he thinks Atsumu is the most attractive person on the team. “Can’t we talk about volleyball or something?”
Bokuto readjusts his position on the chair and relaxes back, one arm slung around the back of the seat. “Alright. Olympics next year. What do you think about them? Do you think you’ll make the national team?”
Sakusa is a little startled by the serious question. It’s been on his mind for the past few weeks, especially since it’s a milestone he’s never even dreamed of reaching. Sakusa doesn’t need fancy awards to define his success as a professional volleyball player, but there’s something incredibly precious about representing your home country while playing against teams from all over the world.
“For next year?”
Bokuto nods. “For next year.”
“No.”
Sawamura has a sharp intake of a gasp. It occurs to Sakusa that Sawamura’s actually paying attention to the conversation that’s happening around him and not just mindlessly regurgitating ‘truth’ or ‘lie’ over and over again. For some reason, this realization is enough to give Sakusa yet another wave of dread as he thinks about strangers outside of the Black Jackals witnessing this painful conversation. “You don’t?” he says.
Sakusa blinks. “What?”
Sawamura clears his throat. “Uh, sorry. Sakusa-san was not lying.”
“Huh?” Bokuto draws out the syllable in the same obnoxious way Hoshiumi does when he’s being dramatic. “Why not?”
“It’s the Olympic volleyball team.” Sakusa doesn’t consider this something to be cause for conversation. He’s not foolish enough to think he’s entitled to anything. “People don’t just casually make it onto the team, Bokuto.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“I’m starting to think that Omi-san doesn’t think high enough about himself,” Hinata announces. Sakusa rolls his eyes and adjusts the band around his chest so it’s no longer digging into his ribs. “Which is kind of surprising, I guess. I think you’ll make the team.”
“I see.”
“I mean it! You’re really good, Omi-san. I think you’re one of the best players on our team.” Hinata gives him a thumbs up, and while Sakusa appreciates the sentiment, he doesn’t need a lie detector to know that Hinata’s lying out of his ass in an effort to comfort him. Which is silly, since Sakusa doesn’t need comforting.
So he tells him that. “I don’t need you to try and gas me up, Hinata.” Sakusa tugs at the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling a little suffocated by the fabric pressed so close around his throat. “I’m well aware that I’m a talented player. But the Olympics doesn’t just take talented play—”
“I think you’re sellin’ yourself short, Kiyoomi-kun.” Atsumu speaks for the first time in what feels like hours. In reality, it’s probably only been a couple of minutes. Sakusa almost snorts in amusement at this passing thought. He’s so used to Atsumu’s nonstop talking.
“I’m not selling myself short. I’m being realistic.”
“Um, yeah, you are. The Olympics are a long shot for most people, but ain’t you the person who was a top-three ace in high school, and only as a second-year?” Atsumu pushes his hair out of his face as he tilts his head to the side. Now that Sakusa—and the entire MSBY Black Jackals—knows that he finds Atsumu attractive, it makes Sakusa flush. He looks away. “It’s not like you’re a mediocre person tryna make it in professional volleyball. You’re already in. You got MVP in university, you got a place on the Black Jackals—”
“And your point?” Somehow, hearing Atsumu praise him is even worse than having to admit that he thinks he’s the best looking person on the team.
Hinata smacks his lips and glances over at Bokuto again. This time, he’s within reach, so Sakusa kicks him under the table. Hinata swallows down a hybrid of a yelp and a screech, but Sakusa ignores it.
“I’m just sayin’. Anyone would take a look at yer numbers and history and immediately call you up for the next open spot on the Olympics team.”
What the fuck is Sakusa supposed to say to that? He’s used to Atsumu admonishing him for taking too long to warm up. He’s used to Atsumu heckling Inunaki into practicing emergency sets more often. He’s used to Atsumu harassing Adriah for slacking when he acts as a decoy. He’s not used to whatever this is.
“Interesting,” Adriah says, but Meian elbows him in the ribs loud enough that Sakusa can hear him go, “Oof.”
“Well, I think you’ll make the Olympics team.” Hinata reaches forward to pat Sakusa on the shoulder with gentle taps. Once. Twice. Then a third time. Sakusa’s mouth twitches downward when he realizes this will probably look incredibly awkward to the viewers, but at this point, he doesn’t even care anymore.
“Kiyoomi-kun,” Atsumu says. He readjusts the collar of his shirt and asks, “Do you think Ushiwaka is a better player than you?”
“That shouldn’t even be a question. Of course he is.”
Atsumu looks to Sawamura for confirmation, but Sawamura nods in sympathetic acknowledgement. “I mean. It’s Ushijima. He’s built like a truck.”
“Not everythin’ is about muscle, though, dontcha think?”
Bokuto laughs. “Tsum Tsum isn’t all about size, I guess.”
Sakusa shoots Bokuto a flat look as Atsumu goes red in the face. He reaches out and grabs Bokuto’s head, shoving him a bit, but Bokuto merely shrieks with laughter and self-satisfaction that comes with cracking a sex joke. Maybe one day Bokuto will grow out of his immature sense of humor. Today is not that day.
Hinata hums. “Are you ready for the next question?”
“No.”
“Great! Are you seeing anyone?”
Sakusa sighs. He hates this question. He answers it every time he goes home for the holidays and his older siblings tease him about not dating since the first couple years of university. The answer is always the same. Sakusa doesn’t have a problem with that, of course, but he does wish people would lay the fuck off him. “No.”
Hinata glances at Sawamura, who only nods. “Do you want to be seeing anyone?”
“No.”
Sawamura interrupts. “That’s a lie,” and Sakusa gives him a dirty look. Sawamura merely shrugs.
“Oh!” Bokuto grabs the reins of the conversation with wide—almost manic—eyes. “Who do you want to see?”
“No one.”
“That’s still a lie.”
“Is it someone from university?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Is it someone we know?”
“I’m still not telling you.”
“Sakusa.” As expected, Meian pulls on his captain’s voice. Even though it’s the same tone he uses whenever he has reason to scold Sakusa’s team members, Sakusa looks up across the room and sees Meian barely suppressing his smirk. If there weren’t cameras literally tracking his every movement, Sakusa might flip him off right now.
“Okay. Fine. It’s someone from university.”
“Uh.” Sawamura pauses. “That is also a lie.”
Sakusa curses. He should have thought of this ahead of time. This is the sort of question that would inevitably come up whenever anyone’s hooked onto a polygraph, especially when the people asking the questions are his teammates. Sakusa had time, of course, to prepare for hypothetical questions as Meian, Oliver, Adriah, and Inunaki shot their segment right before them. He’d been too distracted, though, exchanging muttered commentary with Atsumu while getting a kick out of watching his teammates squirm.
This must be karma, Sakusa decides. There’s no other explanation.
“Just tell us if it’s someone we know,” Hinata offers. It’s the smallest peace offering.
Sakusa momentarily closes his eyes and sighs deeply. “Yes, Hinata. It’s someone you know.”
Sakusa opens his eyes, and he’s startled to find Atsumu staring back at him. He’s standing outside of the camera’s view, facing towards Sakusa, hands on his hips. Sakusa can’t read the look Atsumu is giving him right now, but his gaze is unwavering. As Bokuto and Hinata erupt in another fit of rapid-fire questions that Sakusa can’t keep track of, Atsumu’s eyes drop a little, down to the polygraph sensor attached to Sakusa’s finger, the band wrapped around his chest, the monitor fastened around his arm. He trails his gaze back up to Sakusa’s face with amusement and curiosity burning in his eyes.
It’s a rare moment, the kind that Sakusa and Atsumu have shared more frequently as they’ve gotten to know each other. The kind where everything else kind of falls away and Atsumu demands his full attention without even trying. And all Sakusa can do is raise an eyebrow in response, return Atsumu’s stare, and hope that the polygraph doesn’t catch how Sakusa’s heart flickers when a small smile curls at the corners of Atsumu’s lips.
Sakusa does manage to make it through the rest of his time in the hot seat, and he’s relieved to find that his teammates don’t push the envelope more than they already have. He manages to stall and waste a bit of time by stubbornly refusing to answer Bokuto’s questions about how many times Sakusa has thought about kissing their teammates. The waste of time is warranted, though, since it would take too long for Sakusa to calculate and answer that question truthfully.
Atsumu settles into the chair with ease and nonchalance that Sakusa knows must be an act. Out of everyone else on the team, Atsumu is the kind of person with the least amount of secrets due to his inability to keep his mouth shut. Sakusa watches as he adjusts his position, resting his hands, clasped, on the table in front of him. He takes a big inhale before releasing it. The fabric of his shirt strains at the buttons, as does the band fastened around his chest.
“Hit me with whatever you got,” Atsumu says. In contrast to Sakusa, his posture slumps back, legs spread out and he lazily smiles towards Sawamura. “Daichi-san here will be able to tell me if I’m lyin’, but I ain’t a liar. I’ve always been an honest man.”
“That sounds so sleazy coming from you.”
“Fuck off, Adriah-san.”
“Tsumu-san.” Hinata leans against Atsumu, the bottom of his chin resting on the crown of Atsumu’s head. Atsumu doesn’t seem bothered by it, instead reaching up and petting Hinata’s cheek like he’s a clingy pet.
“Yeah, Shoyo-kun?”
“Do you think you’re a better person than your twin brother?”
“Wow. Goin’ straight to the good stuff, huh?” Atsumu laughs nervously. Sakusa is standing behind him, watching as Hinata sways a bit, side to side. Atsumu’s body drifts with him, and Sakusa can’t help but feel a little annoyed. “Like in terms of bein’ a good person?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re never gonna hear me say this again, but Samu’s a smidge better than me. Just a little bit. I’m better at volleyball, and I’m more popular, and I have a better sense of style…” Atsumu rattles off his so-called pros list, counting them off one finger at a time, and Sakusa rolls his eyes. “But Samu’s prolly a bit nicer than me.”
“That’s an understatement.” Inunaki snorts, and Atsumu snaps his head in his direction, startling Hinata and sending him stumbling backwards. Sakusa catches him by the elbow before he has a chance to fall on his ass.
“Was he telling the truth?” Hinata asks. He shoots Sakusa a thumbs up as he bounces on his heels in anticipation. Sawamura nods, and Hinata’s mouth forms a genuine Wow shape. “That’s really sweet, Tsumu-san!”
“Don’t you dare tell my brother I ever—”
“I’ll send him a link to the video the moment it goes live.”
Sakusa stiffens. Right. This is going to be a public YouTube video.
“I wanna ask a question now.” Bokuto puts his hands on Atsumu’s shoulders suddenly, and Atsumu flinches in his chair. He twists around to look Bokuto in the eye. “Hey. Atsumu.” The use of his given name makes him narrow his eyes. “Do you remember the home match against EJP Raijin last November?”
“Uh.” Atsumu pauses. “Yes?”
“Do you remember what we did after the match?”
“No?”
“He’s lying,” Sawamura says, and Bokuto’s eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead.
“Fuckin’ hell.” A flush creeps up Atsumu’s neck, and Sakusa strains to recall what happened. He remembers getting their ass kicked by EJP, and Atsumu had been pissed because Suna Rintarou provoked him into a foul mood just short of a temper tantrum. “Wadaya bringin’ this up for?”
“Do you remember how we went to Onigiri Miya afterwards?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember how you left Onigiri Miya?”
Atsumu licks his lips and his eyes drift to the camera, then away again. “What about it?”
“Who did you leave Onigiri Miya with?”
Atsumu groans, and Bokuto immediately bursts out laughing. This triggers Sakusa’s memory: he recalls sitting with Suna and snacking on onigiri, pouring glasses of sake as his teammates grew increasingly boisterous. At one point, Sakusa watched Atsumu stand up and stumble as he stepped out of the restaurant only to never return. “We ain’t talkin’ about this on national television.”
“It’s not national television. It’s YouTube.”
“Still.” Atsumu shakes his head vigorously. His face is bright red. “For fuck’s sake. You’re startin’ with this question, Bo-kun? You’re cruel.”
“You don’t have to give me a name. Just—tell me this. Is it the person that we were asking you about for weeks after but you refused to admit it?”
Sakusa remembers this, too. He remembers Atsumu ambling into practice with heavy shadows under his eyes and mumbling apologies when Meian scolded him for being late. There’d been one person unaccounted for at the end of the night—the tall and stoic middle blocker on EJP that Bokuto allegedly knows from high school—but Atsumu wouldn’t admit it outright. Sakusa didn’t know why Atsumu had been embarrassed at the time. It was just a one night stand.
“No,” Atsumu mumbles.
“You didn’t even try to lie about that,” Sawamura comments, and Atsumu sputters in indignation. Bokuto hunches over, laughing with satisfaction, and Hinata gives him a high ten.
“I knew it! I don’t know why you and—uh—that person tried to hide it. Oh, I can’t wait to tell them to their face that I know. I mean, I guess they’ll see this video. But still. You both kept denying it for months. I betcha thought I forgot it!” The deep frown on Atsumu’s face says that, no, he did not forget it. “Was it a one time thing?”
“Yes.”
“He’s lying.”
“Fuckin’—okay. It happened twice. That’s it. Okay?”
“Miya-san is telling the truth.”
“I don’t needja to tell me if I’m tellin’ the truth,” Atsumu says, and Sakusa swallows down the mild discomfort that’s pooled in his stomach. It’s a new feeling. He doesn’t really know what it means, and he doesn’t care to find out.
It’s at this moment that Sakusa spaces out a bit. He’s tired from having to wake up extra early to take the train here, and he’s tired from being interrogated by his teammates. He’s also tired from the revelation that he supposedly thinks that Atsumu is the most attractive member on his team. Sure, Atsumu has always been good-looking. Handsome. Sexy, even. But Sakusa thinking he’s the most attractive is news to him.
He continues standing, still as a picture, and it’s only when Hinata says, “Omi-san, do you want to ask Tsumu-san anything?” that Sakusa realizes he hasn’t moved in maybe five minutes.
And the entire time he’s been staring at Miya Atsumu.
In view of the camera.
This is more than distressing, for a few reasons. Although he’s confident that the editing team will shave away all the unnecessary footage, he’s not sure how obvious he’ll be and if his expression is even readable. If it is—well, it only takes one rabid fan to make a big deal out of it.
“Uh.” Sakusa shakes himself out of his mental daze. “I don’t really—”
“Nothing? Are you sure about that? This is your chance, Omi-san. You can ask Tsumu-san anything you want.” Hinata leans his body towards Sakusa a bit, and Sakusa scowls and leans away. “Nothing is off limits.”
Clearly not. Sakusa hadn’t really participated in questioning his other teammates, since there’s very little he wishes to know more about them. Although they’re teammates and—to a certain extent—friends, Sakusa has felt compelled to take advantage of a stupid lie detector video to pry secrets out of them.
“I don’t have any questions,” Sakusa says, and Atsumu tilts his chin towards him. In the bright glow of the studio lights, Atsumu’s eyes shine. His skin is flawless.
“Dontcha wanna know if I think you’re the most attractive person on the team, Kiyoomi-kun?” Atsumu teases. “Since we’re over here admitting our secret attractions now.”
“I don’t think anything about that was a secret,” Bokuto adds. Sakusa stares into the camera—the red Recording light blinking back at him—and wonders what he did to deserve this.
To his credit, Atsumu really doesn’t lie. He doesn’t lie when answers who’s his least favorite team to play against (Adlers), whether he thinks he’s the best server in the V. League (he doesn’t), what he really thinks about Adriah’s haircut (undecided, but he’s leaning on unstylish). Inunaki gets him to admit that he was indeed the person who stole from Inunaki’s instant food stash in the apartment complex lounge, and when Meian asks if Atsumu was the culprit who threw up in front of his doorstep after a drunken night out, Atsumu’s laughter is more than enough of an answer.
The questions are relatively tame, and Sakusa frowns at how inequitable it is. It’s not that he’s looking to embarrass him or anything. He’d had to suffer through invasive questions, and so did everyone else on their team, so why does Atsumu get off scotch-free?
Right as Sakusa thinks this bitterly to himself, Bokuto slams two palms against the surface of the table. “Enough of this dilly-dallying, Atsumu-kun. Answer my next question.” Bokuto points at him, and Hinata tugs at his arm in order to prevent him from blocking the camera’s view once again. “Have you ever thought about fucking someone on the team?”
Atsumu chokes on nothing but air, and Sakusa is suddenly very, very grateful that no one asked him this question. “No,” he says.
“That’s a lie! Isn’t it, Sawamura?”
“Yes. It’s a lie.”
Atsumu groans and slams his face against the table, making Sakusa flinch. He buries his head in his arms, and a muffled, “I ain’t answerin’ you, Bo-kun! Stop bein’ a perv.”
“Technically you already answered his question,” Adriah calls out.
“I ain’t answerin’ any follow up questions.”
“Have you ever thought about fucking me?”
“Absolutely not.”
“He’s telling the truth.”
Sakusa is a little surprised. He thinks that everyone probably thinks about having sex with Bokuto. At least once. That doesn’t translate to wanting to have sex with him, especially given that Bokuto is in a lovely and committed relationship. “Have you thought about fucking…Adriah?”
“We are not doing this, Bokuto.” Atsumu picks his head off the table and stiffens, and he shakes his head. The corner of his mouth twitches, downward this time. His expression is pained as Adriah makes a gagging noise. “You are not goin’ to go through our entire roster and ask me if I wanna have sex with any of them.”
“I’ll take that as a yes..”
“It’s a no, Bo-kun.”
“Miya-san is telling the truth,” Sawamura adds, and Sakusa—for some reason—tucks this mental note away in the back of his head. This sort of information shouldn’t be important to Sakusa, but he finds himself mentally cataloging it all the same.
“What about…”
“No.”
“What about Inunaki?”
“No.”
“Can I ask a question now? This is boring. Next question.” Hinata clears his throat. “Are you actually not interested in long term relationships, or do you just play it off as indifference in order to avoid unresolved emotional baggage—including, but not limited to: unrequited feelings, commitment issues, or fear of failing an attempt at a relationship?”
Atsumu’s jaw hangs open as he digests the entire question. He stares ahead, toward the camera, so he can’t see that Hinata has pulled out his cellphone and reads from it verbatim. Sakusa shifts a bit so he can see past the top of Hinata’s hair and, sure enough, he has a memo pad open, where he has a bulleted list of questions he’d prepared ahead of time.
This explains why Hinata appears to be enjoying this so much. Sakusa wouldn’t be surprised if his other teammates have similar lists, too.
“I’m sorry—” Atsumu manages to speak in fragmented chunks. “—but I, uh—didn’t quite catch that. Could you—maybe—repeat that?”
“Sure thing, Tsumu-san! Do you pretend to not want a relationship to avoid confronting emotional baggage including, but not limited to, unrequited feelings, commitment issues, or fear of getting hurt in a relationship?”
“Which one of you assholes wrote that?” Atsumu demands. The shock slowly dissolves into irritation, which dissolves into accusation. “The fuck is this?”
“Do you need me to repeat that again?”
“No. I don’t need you to repeat that.” Sakusa has to give Hinata credit. It’s a good question. Atsumu shifts uncomfortably in his seat and twists to look over his shoulder at Hinata, who points to the polygraph machine and raises his eyebrows.
“You have to answer the question,” Hinata says, dead serious.
Atsumu huffs a strangled sigh. He briefly makes eye contact with Sakusa, as if to say: can you believe this shit? But Sakusa remains unsympathetic. Atsumu asked him—and everyone else on the team—a series of inappropriate questions. At least this one is a thoughtful and meaningful one, and one that’s actually worth listening to for an answer.
And if Sakusa’s being honest, this is something he’s wondered about, too. Because most people like Atsumu—who have looks, success, a semi-acceptable personality—are surrounded by potential suitors. Yet he is, much like Inunaki and Sakusa, devastatingly single.
“Uh.” Atsumu speaks with the grace of a fish out of water. “Yes?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Okay, okay. Lemme think about this…” Atsumu’s voice trails off as he chews his lip. “Geez, Shoyo-kun. I wish I had an answer for you. But I dunno. I think I just ain’t lookin’ for one right now, though Omi mighta convinced me to in order to beat out Inunaki in marriage and what not.” Inunaki flips him off, but Atsumu ignores him. He gets that same spacey look he gets when he focuses in games he’s destined to lose. “I don’t think I have commitment issues. And I ain’t afraid of failin’ in a relationship.”
Sawamura nods along, almost in approval. “He’s telling the truth.”
“I see. Hmm.” Hinata places a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder, and Atsumu twists around to squint up at him. “So it’s the unrequited feelings, then.”
“Huh? I didn’t say that!” Atsumu protests. “It ain’t that.”
“He’s lying.”
“Fuck off, Daichi-san.”
“That’s pretty rude,” Bokuto comments.
“It’s okay.” Sawamura pats Atsumu on the forearm, as if to comfort him, and then he glances briefly at Sakusa. Sakusa frowns at the weird sequence of actions.
“What the—I don’t need yer sympathy. I don’t need a relationship right now, so stop lookin’ at me like that!” Sure enough, the humor has slipped off of Hinata and Bokuto’s faces, and it’s replaced with a look of pity. “I’m satisfied bein’ single and playin’ volleyball and—”
“Miya-san.”
Atsumu stops abruptly at Sawamura’s voice.
“I can see you’re lying.”
Meian and Adriah burst out laughing, and Sakusa realizes that they’ve been startlingly quiet because they’ve been too busy trying to hold in their laughter. Inunaki snorts and shakes his head and Hinata nods. “It’s okay, Tsumu-san. We’ve all been there.”
“What the hell? I don’t need condolences!”
“Tsum Tsum.” Bokuto places a hand on Atsumu’s other shoulder, and Atsumu whips his head back and forth between him and Hinata. He has a bewildered expression on his face, which sinks in as he gapes at the camera. For a moment, Atsumu turns and makes eye contact with Sakusa. “Your time will come.”
“What the fuck?”
“When do you think your time will come, Tsumu-san?” Hinata asks. “Do you think it’ll be soon?”
“I don’t know.” Atsumu groans and tilts his head back against the chair. “You guys are just pickin’ on me now.”
“Answer the question, Miya,” Inunaki calls out before leaning over to Adriah, who stoops down a bit to listen, and the two snicker at whatever Inunaki says. Sakusa frowns. He has no idea why everyone seems to be joking around when it comes to Atsumu’s possible commitment issues.
“Well, fuck. I don’t know if or when I’ll ever find anyone, and I don’t care.”
“You don’t care?” Sawamura asks without so much as glancing away from the polygraph.
Atsumu whips his head at him.
“I think you care.” Sawamura gives a polite smile. If Sakusa didn’t know better, he’d think Sawamura was just an ordinary law enforcement officer being kind and friendly to Atsumu. But he knows better, and he can tell there’s a slightly ominous forewarning in his eyes. “And by that I mean—I know you care.”
“I cannot believe this.”
“So who’re your unrequited feelings for, Tsumu-san? Is it someone that I know?”
“I ain’t answerin’!”
“Ooh. So you’re confirming that there is someone. Is he hot?”
“No!”
“No, he’s not hot?”
“He’s ver—no.” Atsumu’s face turns red. “I mean, no, I’m not confirming.”
Hinata nods once more. It’s incredible that he manages to keep a straight face, especially with the rest of the Black Jackals losing their shit around them. After an hour and a half after witnessing and being subjected to Hinata’s menacing questions, Sakusa has come to the conclusion that Hinata may very well be the most dangerous person on his team. “So he’s very hot. You always liked hot guys.”
“When did I ever tell you—”
“That person is very hot,” Bokuto points out. “The one from that night. You know. That we were talking about before.”
Atsumu is at a loss of words. So is Sakusa. This is the most disastrous AMA round yet. Buzzfeed Japan’s video editing team could probably upload the entirety of these couple minutes from Atsumu’s segment and garner enough attention to go viral. Atsumu’s mouth opens, but he promptly closes it. It’s probably the wisest decision he’s made all day today.
“Moving onto even more personal questions.” Hinata sits back down in the seat, clamps his hand on top of Atsumu’s and tilts his head while he looks Atsumu dead in the eyes. “Tsumu-san. Do you think your hair is one of the ways that you overcompensate for your insecurities and paranoia related to how people perceive you?”
“Excuse me?”
“What? I’ve always wondered. Your hair is really blonde.”
“I ain’t tryin’ to overcompensate anythin’.”
“Do you really think that?” Hinata crouches out of his seat and shoves his face into Atsumu’s personal space. “Do you really?”
“You’re blocking the camera, Hinata.”
Hinata ignores Meian. His eyes drift a little to the side, and he makes eye contact with Sakusa. He shoots him a thumbs up. “So? What do you think?”
Atsumu runs his fingers through his hair, settling at the nape of his neck where Sakusa can just barely see the dark undercut, where the buzz is so precisely and cleanly cut that it’s almost absurd. “I mean, I’m used to dyein’ my hair at this point, so not dyein’ it feels weird.” He pauses. “I guess I feel like I look better with it now? And that other people prolly think so, too.”
That’s stupid. Atsumu would look good in any hairstyle or color, although his current one fits him best.
“What?” Atsumu asks.
“What?” Bokuto and Hinata say in unison.
Sakusa blinks. Had he said that out loud?
His face gets very hot.
Sakusa makes a feeble attempt to backtrack. He tries to play it off with nonchalance, though he knows for a fact that he’s not successful. He hopes his teammates will let him off easy this time. “I mean, you shouldn’t let other people’s opinions sway you into whatever hairstyle. Just do what you want.”
“Yeah.” Hinata pokes at Atsumu’s arm with his finger. “You heard Omi-san. Do what you want.”
“Are we done here? I think we’re done here. Meian. Please tell me we’re done here.”
“I think we have time for one last question,” Meian replies, and Atsumu groans helplessly. Sakusa really does feel bad for him. Somehow, this question and answer session feels a lot longer than all the other ones combined.
“Perfect! Let me be the last one.” Bokuto crosses his arms and smiles down at Atsumu. “If you had to pick one person on this team to get married to, who would it be?”
“Y’mean besides Wan-san? On account of the whole racin’-to-marriage thing.”
Inunaki lets out a strangled noise. “As if I’d ever marry an asshole like you.”
“Anyone.” Bokuto throws out his arms. “Even me! If we were all eligible. And you could marry anyone in the team. Who would it be?”
Atsumu looks at Bokuto. He tilts his head as he does so, lips pursed in serious consideration. Then he looks at Hinata, who grins back. Then his gaze shifts to Meian, and to Adriah, and it occurs to Sakusa that Atsumu is actually thinking seriously about this. Sakusa suppresses a snort. This sort of thing shouldn’t be that hard to answer.
When Atsumu turns in his chair and makes eye contact with Sakusa, Sakusa scrunches his nose.
“This is taking you way too long,” Meian says.
Hinata snickers as Atsumu turns forward again. He exchanges another look with Bokuto, who smiles innocently at Atsumu, and Atsumu squints at the pair. “I don’t know,” Atsumu finallys says, a rather anticlimactic answer given the careful assessment he’d done for each member of the team.
Sawamura clears his throat, and Atsumu immediately stiffens at the noise. “He is lying about that.”
Hinata breaks out into a fit of laughter once more. Sakusa sees Meian suppressing an extremely wide smile as Inunaki tugs Adriah down to whisper something in his ear and Bokuto crosses his arms. “Oh, really, Tsum Tsum? Are you lying about that now?”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“Why won’t you tell us, Tsumu-san?” Hinata’s eyes widen in glee. “Just answer the question!”
“Tsum Tsum.”
“Miya, we don’t have all day. Just answer the damn question.”
“Funny how this is the question you won’t answer.”
With the increasing number of unsolicited commentary pressuring him to answer, Atsumu’s expression grows more and more pinched. He chews at his lip and shakes his head, and he glowers at Bokuto and Hinata. Sakusa glances at the clock. They really don’t have the time for Atsumu’s stalling.
Furthermore, Sakusa doesn’t really want to hear the person Atsumu would want to marry most on the team. It could potentially lead to a very awkward situation. He can’t decide what’s worse—this question, or the earlier question where Bokuto asked him if he’s ever thought about having sex with anyone on their team.
“If he doesn’t want to answer it, he doesn’t have to.” Sakusa interrupts the clamor with stern and flat words, which he knows, without fail, will get them to shut up when they begin acting out.
It works. The room collapses in a sudden silence, with the exception of Atsumu, who whips his head around. “Huh?”
“We don’t really need to know, anyway. It’s fine.” Sakusa temporarily forgets that they’re not in the gymnasium practicing, that they’re still recording the video and audio, and that they’re surrounded by unfamiliar crew members overseeing the entire shoot. “If he doesn’t want to share it, he doesn’t have to.”
Atsumu gives him a funny look—stuck between something like mistrust and appreciation—and he glances back to Meian. Hinata nudges Bokuto with his elbow and mouths something that Sakusa can read easily: Omi Omi. Weird.
“Okay.” Meian tries to breach the sudden awkward air around the room. “Um. I guess we’re done here? If that’s enough for you all.” He turns to speak with the producer that Sakusa forgets the name of, and Sawamura helps Atsumu remove the polygraph sensors from his body. Sakusa exhales a breath. They have to shoot an ending clip, but at least the uncomfortable interrogation sessions are over.
But as he tries to squash the twist in his stomach when he thinks about all the questions Atsumu left unanswered, Sakusa is left wondering what the lingering discomfort really means.
They’re on their way back to the MSBY Black Jackals complex, Meian driving the rental van—which, really, feels more like a truck—Sakusa smushed in the back left corner, hip pressed against the side of the car and shoulder digging against the glass of the window. He shrinks away from the loud hollering of his teammates and from the contact of Atsumu’s thigh flat against his.
It’s different now, now that Sakusa’s admitted out loud to finding Atsumu the most attractive person on their team, sitting in the car, hip jutting into his. Part of it is from necessity, since Hinata is on the other side of Atsumu, constantly writhing and moving in his seat to stick his head closer to Adriah and Bokuto as they chatter. Part of it is definitely not from necessity, because Sakusa could probably pull even closer to the side, but there’s something comfortable about Atsumu sitting right beside him.
Surprisingly, Atsumu isn’t speaking much, and he stares out the window and ducks every time one of Hinata’s arms goes flying in wide gestures. His arms are crossed, right against his chest, and his spine is rigid in a way that can’t be comfortable.
Even more surprising is how Sakusa finds himself wondering about Atsumu’s unanswered questions. He’s the only one who managed to get away with avoiding some of the dicier questions, though Sakusa isn’t quite sure how.
It’s not like whoever Atsumu has feelings for or who he wants to have sex with or who he wants to marry is any of Sakusa’s business. Much like how he doesn’t need to know about Inunaki’s sex life or Meian’s proposal plans or Oliver’s most embarrassing moment in his volleyball career thus far. Or how he doesn’t need to know about whether Bokuto’s seen every teammate’s dick or who Hinata’s favorite Jackal is or the most number of times Adriah’s had sex in twenty-four hours. Sakusa doesn’t need to know any of that. He never asked to know any of it, either.
He also never asked for the thrill that accompanies the sensation of the side of Atsumu’s body nestled against his. And so—even though Sakusa doesn’t need to know the answers, even though Sakusa isn’t entitled to knowing the answers, he finds himself wondering all the same.
Above all else, when Sakusa leans his head back against the seat rest and adjusts his shoulders, elbow brushing against Atsumu’s arm, he can’t help but wonder if Atsumu actually leans into the touch, almost imperceptibly closer, or if Sakusa is just imagining the feeling.
Sakusa’s freshly showered and about to turn in for the evening when there’s a knock at his door. He opens the door to find Atsumu standing there, hair damp and unstyled, wearing a pair of faded sweatpants and the MSBY track jacket half-zipped.
“What?” Sakusa rubs at his eyes.
“Are you busy?”
“I was just about to go to bed.”
“Oh.” Atsumu pauses. He purses his lips and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. He doesn’t offer any more explanation nor does he excuse himself to go back to his apartment.
“Can I help you?”
“Do you have a minute to…” Atsumu’s voice falters, which is rare. He clears his throat as Sakusa raises a scrunched eyebrow in confusion. “Just. Do you have a minute?”
“What is it? It’s late.”
“It ain’t even midnight yet.”
“Yeah, and? What do you want?”
Atsumu looks at the door. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”
Sakusa sighs. He steps aside and lets Atsumu come in. “If you want.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to be a little more welcomin’,” Atsumu mumbles, but he shuffles in nonetheless. He kicks off his sneakers and stands in Sakusa’s hallway, coming to a standstill as he studies Sakusa in a way that makes Sakusa’s skin crawl.
“What?” Sakusa repeats, because nothing good can ever come out of Atsumu looking at him like that.
“Didja mean what you said?” Atsumu asks.
“What I said?”
“Y’know. In the interview.”
“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, Miya.” For a brief moment, Sakusa wonders if he should be ushering Atsumu further into his apartment. As it stands, the hallway is way too narrow for them, and Atsumu stopped after a couple of steps. If Sakusa tries to move away now, he’d wind up with his back pressed against the door.
“When you said you think I’m the best lookin’ person on the team.”
Sakusa stares at him in disbelief. “You came over to my apartment to confirm that I think you’re good-looking?”
“You ain’t answerin’ my question.”
“Can’t this wait till tom—”
“No.” Atsumu’s terse tone shuts Sakusa up instantly. “It can’t.”
Sakusa sighs. He pinches the bridge of his nose in order to hide the warmth he feels at his cheeks, and he says, “Well, according to Sawamura-san and the lie detector, I wasn’t lying about that. So I don’t know why you’re asking.”
“I ain’t askin’ what the lie detector said.” Atsumu takes half a step closer. Sakusa’s back hits the door. “I wanna know what you think.”
“Miya—”
“And also, if you actually want me to call you Kiyoomi-kun. Or if Omi Omi is okay. Or if Omi-kun is better.”
“Why do you care?”
“Ain’t it obvious?”
“No.”
“Huh.” Atsumu looks nice with his silhouette outlined by the dim lights in Sakusa’s apartment. It almost terrifies Sakusa. “You also never told me you were interested in datin’ anyone.”
“You never told me you were interested in dating anyone,” Sakusa blurts. Atsumu’s eyes widen slightly. “You’re being weird, Miya.”
Atsumu swallows, and Sakusa can’t help but trace his throat bobbing with his eyes and wish that he could chase the movement with his lips instead.
“Kiyoomi-kun,” Atsumu says, slow and easy, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Why didja interrupt when I was about to answer the last question?”
“What do you mean?”
“I was gonna answer. And you told ‘em to hop off my ass about it. So I gotta know—why didja do that?”
“Because you clearly didn’t want to answer it,” Sakusa reasons. “And you already avoided other questions, so it’s not like missing one more would be a big deal. The video shoot was going over time, anyway. Someone had to shut them up.”
“Are you sure that’s all?”
“What?”
“Are you sure that’s all, and there’s nothin’ more to it?” Atsumu inches forward again, and Sakusa presses his back even further against the door. His mouth goes dry, and he knows he could easily push Atsumu away, but he’s startled to find that he’s caught somewhere in between wanting Atsumu out the door and wanting him even closer—the latter of which terrifies him. “Are you sure?”
Sakusa licks his lips. “Yes.”
“Didn’t you wanna know my answer?”
“No.”
Atsumu pushes his face into Sakusa’s personal space and doesn’t break his stare for a moment. Sakusa blacks out for half a second from catching a sudden waft of the peach-scented shampoo Atsumu uses. He rips his gaze away and focuses on the clothing hook hanging from the wall and prays that Atsumu can’t sense the uncontrollable rhythm building in his chest.
“If I ask you a question—” Atsumu’s voice is nothing more than a murmur. “—will you answer me honestly?”
“What is it?”
“If I said you were the answer to my unanswered questions, what wouldja do?”
Sakusa’s heart stutters.
“Kiyoomi-kun?”
“I don’t mind the nicknames.” The words are off Sakusa’s tongue before he even realizes that he’s rambling. “I mean. They’re dumb and stupid. But really. I don’t mind them at all, so you can just call me whatever you want.”
“You’re avoidin’ the question again.”
“Well, you’re—” Sakusa lets out a garbled noise when Atsumu places his fingertips under Sakusa’s chin and tries to pull his eyes to meet his. “You’re—distracting me.”
“I’m distractin’?”
“Fuck off, Miya. You already know I think you’re attractive. And it’s distracting.”
“Omi-kun.”
“What?”
“Can you look at me?”
“Why?”
“Please.”
Perhaps it’s the strangled anticipation brewing in Sakusa’s chest, or perhaps it’s the gentle sincerity with which Atsumu speaks. But it’s compelling enough that Sakusa stops resisting and allows Atsumu to tug at his chin, tilt up his face, and look him in the eye.
He’s not sure what he expected to find there. But Sakusa definitely hadn’t been expecting to see Atsumu’s eyes crinkling with equal parts humor and affection, caught between laughter and—something else. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Am not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Sorry,” Atsumu says, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. “I’m enjoyin’ myself right now, even if you’re still bein’ stubborn.”
“I’d kiss you,” Sakusa says, “if you told me those answers would be about me.” He’s satisfied that the sudden response to Atsumu’s question is enough to throw him off his smug pedestal. Atsumu’s grin falls, and he’s left looking as bewildered as Sakusa feels.
Atsumu opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, and Sakusa has come to the conclusion that all this tiptoeing around the topic they’re desperately trying to avoid confronting is a waste of his time. So he curls one hand around Atsumu’s neck, feels the fuzzy texture of Atsumu’s undercut against his fingertips, and pulls him to close the gap between their mouths.
Atsumu does not kiss him the way Sakusa would’ve expected him to. Sakusa would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what it would be like to kiss him—because that’s certainly happened more than a handful of times—but he never once considered that Atsumu would kiss him gently. Kindly, even—with careful and hesitant presses of his lips. It’s surprising that confident, cocky Atsumu would kiss Sakusa with the almost unsure manner of someone learning to kiss for the first time. It’s even more surprising that Sakusa’s body erupts in a frenzy of butterflies, starting at his stomach and coursing through his chest, reaching the gentle hum in his throat as he sighs and attempts to pull Atsumu closer until Atsumu has to brace his forearms against the door.
Atsumu breaks it off and hums. “You’re an idiot, Omi-kun.”
“I’m the idiot?”
“Well, yeah. Why else didja think Bo-kun and Shoyo were givin’ you and me such a hard time?” Atsumu shakes his head as he laughs breathlessly, pausing to press his lips against Sakusa’s forehead, inching up on his toes to reach it. One of his hands drops and settles on Sakusa’s waist, the other one at Sakusa’s cheek, and Sakusa swears he can feel Atsumu’s heartbeat against his chest. “They know I’ve liked you forever.”
“You have?”
“Ain’t it obvious?”
“You never told me that.”
“Because it was obvious.”
Sakusa frowns, and Atsumu pushes his index finger at the crinkle of Sakusa’s eyebrows. “I never knew about that.”
“It’s okay. I like that aboutcha.”
Sakusa decides he doesn’t want to spend the entire night crammed in the narrow hallway, so he plants two hands against Atsumu’s chest and shoves him backwards, sending Atsumu stumbling backwards with a startled yelp. “If it was obvious, then why didn’t you say anything?”
“I never expected for you to be the same way.” Atsumu slips his hand into Sakusa and lets him lead the way down the hall, past the kitchen, towards Sakusa’s bedroom. “It took a stupid lie detector test video and everyone around us kickin’ up a fit before I realized that maybe I had a chance after all. Didja know they were plannin’ that from the start? With the questions.”
“Mm.” Sakusa stops at his room door as he opens it slowly. “I figured. There’s no way Hinata came up with those questions asking about your potential emotional baggage.”
“Yeah. That’s totally Adriah’s style.” Atsumu fits both hands on Sakusa’s hips, body pressed right behind him. “So, then, Omi-kun, who do you wanna be seein’? You never answered the question earlier. And I really would like it if you answered it right about now.”
“It’s you,” Sakusa says, simple and soft, and he twists around to see Atsumu as he answers. “It’s always been you.”
Even though he’s not hooked up to a lie detector, Atsumu’s face breaks out into a wide smile that lets Sakusa know that Atsumu believes every word he says.
A couple months later, The MSBY Black Jackals Take a Lie Detector Test debuts at number one trending on YouTube. As expected, the video is just short of a disaster, and, much to Sakusa’s annoyance, the video editors hadn’t had the decency to cut out the portion where Sakusa spaces out and stares at Atsumu from behind for about five minutes straight. Sure, they’re not hiding anything, necessarily, but this isn’t the way Sakusa wanted to announce to the world that he only has eyes for Miya Atsumu.
Sakusa and Atsumu are bombarded with an influx of fans desperate for more SakuAtsu content—whatever that is—and a new wave of questions clog their media feeds. Sakusa sighs, shuts off his phone, and ignores the influx of unsolicited commentary before joining Atsumu in bed for another peaceful night in.
“Think we should say anythin’?” Atsumu asks, pulling Sakusa to his chest.
“Nah. Let them figure it out.”
Atsumu presses a gentle kiss at Sakusa’s temple, and Sakusa relaxes against it. He doesn’t need this to be public knowledge in order for it to feel real, nor does he need anyone else to witness the soft way Atsumu gazes at him with a broad smile tickling his lips. This alone is more than enough.
The truth, after all, doesn’t always need to be said.