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Komori Motoya had taken to posting a bit more on social media lately ever since he had made the Japan National Team — he blames it on spending too much time with Suna, but he knows he’s really just trying to impress him, or something. He’s not quite sure. He had always wondered what Suna’s obsession was with his phone and camera specifically, but it had become awfully addicting. And seeing Suna’s reactions had become addicting too. But we’ll get there.
Interacting with his teammates had proven to be quite the boon to his online presence. The organizers loved it, and it seemed like everyone else did too. That worked for Komori because he was a pleaser. His home team of the EJP Raijin loved it since it earned him extra clout and attention. His publicist loved it — it had started to garner him extra publicity and sponsors. Apparently, people liked it when others, especially someone so nice and endearing as himself, jested with and poked fun at so many of those on the V.League that they thought to be untouchables — people so stoic, so awkward, so rigid in their routines and athleticism that they didn’t dare break their facade to the public.
Can you imagine a video of Kageyama with milk coming out of his nose because Hinata, the little gremlin, somehow figured out what made the ever stoic man laugh? That video that Komori acquired through being oh so nice trended for days.
One time when they ate at Onigiri Miya, Sakusa actually ate the food. Maybe it was to impress the owner, Komori wasn’t quite sure. It wasn’t as big of a revelation to the world without them knowing his history of mysophobia, but snapping that pic for his family group chat had his cousin annoyed for quite some time. The added bonus was when he posted it online, along with pictures of rice stuck to Sakusa’s face — Osamu gave Komori free onigiri for a week, which annoyed Sakusa even more. Komori couldn’t say he loved seeing his cousin squirm, he wasn’t vindictive, but he didn’t hate the free food and seeing how Osamu looked at the photos felt like a win too. Komori made a note to ask his cousin what that was all about at their next coffee date.
Then there was that time the National team was all out drinking and Gao confessed he’d never eaten curry before. The internet just had to know, which led to a drunken round of streamed Never Have I Ever. Everyone loved it, viewers and participants. Every bit of it. The only person who didn’t love it, ironically, was his teammate Suna Rintarou. He was ultimately scooped time and time again. And it seemed like he was getting sick of it.
Part of Komori’s strategy to get attention while being online was to tease people (in the nicest way possible) and apparently that was stepping into Suna’s territory. The years of blackmail he had accumulated on his phone starting in high school usually didn’t see the light of day save for select clips that he thought were top tier roasting material. Everything else he hung over his friend’s heads in case of emergencies. So he got a little testy when Komori started to post quips and comebacks, and videos of flubs and behind-the-scenes of his teammates acting like idiots. There was very little curation like Suna had done over the years.
Komori did so without a care in the world, and his friends took it all in good fun. It was just a part of coming out of his shell. He was still genuinely the nicest person on the National team, but with a little bit of extra sass like Suna had almost rubbed off on him a little too much.
Suna started to then get particularly annoyed at this newfound personality trait when he was featured in the posts — he had an image to maintain, of course. He was usually the one behind the camera not in front of it in these types of scenarios.
Komori found out that apparently Suna could dish it out, but he couldn’t handle it when it was handed right back to him. It’s not like he ever did anything too big, just a jeering tweet here, a picture there.
Suna’s annoyed reactions in the locker room (“What the fuck is this?”) to his responses on Twitter (“Delete this.”) made it worth it to keep pushing his buttons farther and farther. That was just something that Komori took utter joy in getting out of him. Maybe it was his attention, maybe it was the rise and emotion that no one else could get out of the normally deadpan middle blocker, maybe it was that cute face Suna made when he was just extra annoyed. Komori craved it. Especially since his other teammates and friends never responded like Suna at all. They often encouraged it, coming to him with the latest “news”.
Somehow being at the intersection of the Tokyo high school liberos group chat, being practically the nicest guy in the League (which people assumed made him doubly trustworthy), and gaining this standing on social media made him to go-to person for gossip now… and he didn’t exactly hate it. It was just one more thing to lord over Sunarin.
“Motoya, didya hear ‘bout Washio? I heard he’s got a new girl. She’s on the Red Rabbits too.”
“Ko-kun, word on the street is Onigiri Miya is opening a new branch. Can you confirm that?”
“Komori-san, I got this video of Sunarin where he’s jumping away from a spider, but it looks like he’s dancing,” said one of his teammates one day... and that’s when an idea slammed into him like the volleyballs he’s fielded in practice every day. It was sure to set off Suna like never before.
He started compiling the footage he had taken of Suna or that others had given to him, from games or news reports. He edited it together, added some special effects — a shimmering filter, some slow-mo, zooming, nothing too fancy — and dropped a K-pop track over it. His Suna Rintarou fancam was complete — he knew it would annoy Suna to no end. Not only was it a fancam, but it was borderline ridiculous, and coming from one of his teammates too!
Now he just needed to figure out when to deploy it. Should he wait? Upload it right away? When would make the most impact?
He decided he’d wait until the next game they won and tweet it after with a caption congratulating him for being MVP. The impact was as big as he had hoped — fans picked up on it right away, tweeting it endlessly, thirsting after Sunarin.
But an unexpected effect came from the video — fans began to wonder why Komori would put in the effort to making what looked like such a nice video. Sure, he was a nice guy, overly sweet in interviews and to fans when he met them out, but online, he’d been known to throw jests and poke fun at his friends now. So to see a video like this? It was a bit silly at times, sure, but the rumor mill started to swirl.
Clearly, people were misinterpreting where he was going with the video. He thought it was funny! He made it to make fun of Suna! And now… NOW! Now. Now, people had so many theories. Some thought just what he wanted them to think, that he was just making fun of his teammate. Others thought he had a major crush on Suna — are they wrong though , he wondered but tried to shove those thoughts out of his head in a panic. While others speculated what that weird fancam really meant — was it just a weird joke?
It was right before he was supposed to meet up with the team for post-game drinks that all of this had transpired. He had hoped it would go down a little differently so he could drink a little, celebrate, keep his smile plastered on his face all night, negotiate with Suna for what he wanted for the video to be taken down (where did he think that conversation would even go?), and maybe flirt a little. But now! Now, he had no idea what he would even say to Suna. He still thought the whole thing was a big fat joke.
Komori wondered if Suna would be mad. He wanted him annoyed. He wanted him worked up, right? He was the only one he liked seeing that way, the only one he really wanted to piss off. Well, if he was being honest with himself it wasn’t that he wanted to make him pissed, per se. It’s that he just wanted his attention in a way that was different than the way he interacted with Washio, different than how it was with the Miya twins whenever they collided, different than with anyone else. Damnit, why was he investing so much emotionally into Suna?
And now, he’d probably just fucked it up, whatever he wanted out of Suna. Cool. Time to go face your nightmares, 'Toya.
By the time he arrived at the bar after overthinking every one of his life choices up to this point, he was late and everyone was a few drinks in. He made his way through to the secluded VIP section that their team always reserved for their game nights.
“Komori! Take this!” A drink was shoved into his hand by Sarukui, which he promptly downed and waited at the bar flagging the bartender for another.
While he waited for his drink and chatted with the backup libero and their setter, he caught Suna on the other side of the bar who smirked at him and turned around. Komori wasn’t drunk enough for this yet.
Whether he was ready or not, Suna began making his way over to where he and the bartender were and asked for a drink.
“Hey.” The bar was loud, so Suna had to lean in a bit for Komori to hear him, pulling him away from the others.
“Hi.” Komori gulped down the rest of his drink, pointing to it to signal to the bartender for another. He could feel the alcohol flush running up his cheeks already.
“So I can’t tell if you hate me or you’re obsessed with me.” The breath Suna left on Komori’s ear was hot. It was suddenly harder to breathe. Komori tried not to let it get to him, but he couldn’t not . Heat crept up his neck and his face reddened — this time it wasn’t from the alcohol.
“E-Excuse me?” Komori pulled back so their faces were hovering an inch away from one another.
“It seemed like you were making extra efforts to get on my nerves over the last month. I wasn’t sure if I was rubbing off on you, you were just working on your comebacks, or you really were growing to hate me. But then,” his eyebrow arched, “you put out that really cute video. I didn’t know you cared so much.” Suna smirked and sipped his drink.
“Wha—” Komori’s eyebrows rose and his eyes grew bigger as he took in Suna who laughed at how he squirmed. The bartender brought Komori his new drink, which he took a generous swig from. “I-It’s not like that.” He raised a hand in defense.
“So what’s it like then?” Suna raised his chin and looked down on Komori through lidded eyes, face serious.
Komori opened his mouth and then closed it. He repeated this a couple of times. He wanted to think of something to say, anything. But nothing came to mind that didn’t feel terribly stupid. His mind swirled with the alcohol he had taken in. Not an extreme amount, but enough to make him feel loose — not enough to make him say anything without thinking about it first though.
Suna rolled his eyes, seeing he wasn’t getting the answers he wanted. He started to pull away.
And then the alcohol kicked in, removing Komori’s ability to think about what he said or did before he did it. He figured it’d be a lot cooler to just show Suna what he meant than say something stupid that could be misinterpreted.
Komori had this feeling in the pit of his stomach. This was his shot. He had to stop him before he could walk away. Before things ended up incredibly weird between them. Grabbing his arm, he pulled him back so they were face-to-face again and leaned in, doing what he felt like was the only next logical step — he went in for an unexpected kiss.
Immediately surprised, but ultimately, Suna eased into the kiss — he didn’t stop Komori. Lips mashing together, it was messy and short. In fact, Suna snaked his arm around Komori’s waist, pulling him in a little closer, tighter. Komori could feel a little smile on the lips he was kissing. Oh, thank god.
They pulled apart when they noticed the shouts and hollers from their teammates that rose over the music. “Let’s get out of here,” Suna grinned. “I’ll let you add another video of me to your collection.” He winked. Komori’s brain short-circuited as he waved good-bye to the team with a dopey grin on his face.
He got to add many more videos of Suna to his collection after that night. Only a select few curated by Suna saw the light of day.