Chapter Text
Ultimately, Hinata decided to just let nature take its course a little while longer. Kenma and Suna were right; if they were happy, and he was happy, why change anything? It was a dynamic he might never get used to, but in the moment, when he pushed aside the worst of his worries, he truly was being cared for, being satisfied in any way they felt necessary. Maybe asking for more might seem ungrateful, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset Atsumu and Sakusa alike.
Of course, there were some things that, to Hinata, remained unadaptable. The three had met a few more night over the course of the following week, some of which they enjoyed their typical jaunts, others where Hinata silently did his homework alongside their company, or enjoyed a nice meal and talked about himself, his life and friends and interests, maybe had a bath or watched a movie, and took advantage of whatever executive suite he had found himself in that time.
He didn’t mind milking whatever the hotel had to offer. It was already paid for, and Sakusa and Atsumu had made it clear they had no intention of imposing on his home—nor did they seem to be the type to welcome him into theirs—so why not enjoy a little room service?
At the same time, Hinata was beginning to run out of excuses when it came to shaking off their other attempts at gift-giving.
He had never been one to want after material things. Everything he owned, he used until it became unusable—and then used it even a little longer after that. Atsumu kept telling him he should get a new laptop, kept offering to pick out whatever model he wanted, install whatever software he might need for school, but Hinata’s laptop worked just fine. Sure, some of the keys were sticking and every now and then the bottom third of the screen would fade to black for anywhere from a few seconds to a few hours, but he didn’t need a new one.
It was the same story for his bag, which was actually two bags—one inside another—since the outer bag had a hole in the bottom but it was the perfect size to fit his gym shoes after his morning workouts.
Speaking of gym shoes…
“What are these?”
Hinata poked his head out of the bathroom, towel hung around his shoulders as he fruitlessly worked to shake the water out of his ears. His eyes followed Sakusa’s line of sight down to the front door, where those very same gym shoes sat off to the side. “What? My sneakers?”
“They’re all torn up.”
“I’ve had them for a while.” The orange haired boy let loose a sheepish laugh, and stepped out a little further to join Sakusa in the front hall of their suite. He was still in his suit. He was always in a suit; Hinata wondered what he might look like in sweatpants—or even just jeans. Probably good. Definitely good.
He watched the man bend down to pick one up, hooking the heel around his index finger to be dangled in front of his face, inspecting the soles but being sure not to get too close. He could practically see those cartoonish green vapours wafting from them. “You should get new ones. The support arches are all worn down.”
“They’re really fine,” Hinata tried to reassure him. “Besides, breaking in a new pair sounds like a pain.”
“You need new ones.”
“I don’t—”
“Did that sound like a question to you?”
That was all it took for Hinata to snap his mouth shut in submission. Sakusa’s tone wasn’t any sharper or quicker than usual, but there was nothing quite like it by way of intimidation. They may had all fallen quite comfortably into this new coexistence, but Hinata still didn’t know much about them—individually and together—and there was always something about Sakusa that made it clear he didn’t mess around.
It wasn’t as if he felt unsafe or on edge, but he certainly didn’t plan on tempting fate either.
So with a soft pout, Hinata just reached behind him to lift the towel up over his head to finish drying his hair, hiding his disappointed expression and letting a quiet “no” muffle into the fabric.
He didn’t see Sakusa smile, but that was probably for the best. “I’ll take you tomorrow.”
With a sigh of frustration, or maybe discomfort, Hinata yanked the towel back off his head, sending drips of water down his bare shoulders and chest, and his hair staticky and flat in all the wrong places. “Omi, you really don’t have to—”
“When does your last class end?”
“Ah—four, but—”
“I’ll be there at four.”
“Omi—”
“Don’t worry, I won’t make a scene.”
“That’s not the prob—”
“Sho,” Sakusa cut him off again, but this time his voice was a little louder, the single syllable shooting out of his mouth and nearly knocking the wind out of his contentious counterpart. But then he saw those puppy dog eyes, and instantly softened, adjusting his own impatience to speak more gently as he closed the space between them and took hold of the towel. “You’ll get tangles that way. Why are you so against us doing things for you?”
“I don’t like handouts,” he replied quietly, gaze fixed on Sakusa as he gathered up the damp fabric to press and scrunch and pat that orange mop dry. Even now, Hinata always expected Sakusa’s touch to be harsh or cold or rough, but that was never the case. It was hard not to slowly rock forward into him, hard not to act on his instinct to seal shut that remaining, taunting gap.
“Is that what you think this is?” Sakusa breathed out a soft sigh through his nose, a mix of amusement and disappointed and maybe even a little endearment as he reached one hand down to wipe a few stray water droplets off the boy’s cheek.
Hinata blinked a few times, admittedly confused. It was an expression that earned a second sigh, but it didn’t take longer after that for a long, pale finger to curl beneath Hinata’s chin, guiding his attention up to those dark eyes.
“Whatever chip you may have on your shoulder, I would advise you to get rid of it. You may not like gifts, but you objectively need a new pair of shoes. End of discussion.”
Sakusa could feel Hinata gulp against the back of his finger, and though the pride-filled thud in his chest was obvious to him, his cool exterior kept it a secret. It was better that way for now.
He accepted Hinata’s silence as compliance, and then pulled the used towel off altogether before stepping back. “I’ll get the hair dryer.”
“You don’t have to—” Hinata cut himself off this time when he caught Sakusa’s glare for the second time that night. He looked annoyed with the constant protesting, and Hinata had no intention of pushing his luck any longer. He just felt so…guilty, maybe?
He wasn’t quite sure exactly what it was about their generosity that was so unsettling to him. Maybe because he didn’t know where the money was coming from, or why they even chose to give it to him like this. It was clearer now, in their respective ways of expressing affection, that what they wanted surpassed sex, or other typical escorting activities. This was something long term, something Hinata could only describe now as inescapable.
But he didn’t hate that idea. He wasn’t a prisoner, nor was he unhappy. In fact, during these fleeting nights, there was no where else he would have rather been.
So his trademark stubbornness took a backseat to Sakusa’s request, and he gave the man what he wanted. Watching his tall, broad form disappear into the bathroom first, then come back out with the hair tool, Hinata followed him towards the foot of the bed. Sakusa plugged the hairdryer in and sat down on the edge of the mattress, in front of which Hinata sank down and onto the floor in preparation for his attendance.
Sakusa positioned one leg on either side of the boy’s body, his trousers brushing up against Hinata’s bare shoulders, warming him in the drafty room. Atsumu was still in the shower, humming something unintelligible to himself that was soon to be drowned out by the steady whir of the hair dryer.
It was like a lullaby. Between the sound, the warmth, and Sakusa’s gentle touch as he ran his fingers slowly through Hinata’s hair, the boy’s eyes grew heavier with each passing second.
Meanwhile, Sakusa’s attention was locked in to the task at hand. He hardly noticed the way Hinata’s head was beginning to sway to the side until he felt the weight on his thigh and tensed up.
“Sho.” He kept his voice barely above a whisper on the off chance that Hinata was actually asleep. Turning off the hair dryer, he waited for a response.
“Don’t stop,” Hinata grumbled sleepily. Sakusa could feel his warm breath against the inside of his leg through his pants and sucked his cheeks in between his teeth. “It feels nice.”
All Sakusa could do was smile—barely, but enough to still count as a smile—as he pushed the power switch once more to bring the tool back to life. Every now and then, Hinata would nuzzle his face further into Sakusa’s leg and Sakusa would suck in that same sharp breath, straightening his spine or clenching his jaw to maintain his focus.
This distance between them, one Sakusa had forced into their triangular dynamic, was all for the sake of self-control. Sakusa was a man of absolutes; he was selfish and coarse and never did anything halfway. To be loved by Kiyoomi Sakusa was to become a member of a rather exclusive club, one whose cost was far too high. Why would he subject Hinata to any more pain when all he wanted to do was take it away?
So he couldn’t get too close. Not while the boy still sat on the fence, while he wasn’t so deep yet that he might still change his mind. Once it started, once Sakusa took that first step, there was no going back.
So he couldn’t get too close.
He shouldn’t.
It wasn’t long after that for Hinata’s hair to fully dry, and Sakusa expected him to sit back up, or stand or even just thank him, but he was silent. The steady rise and fall of his shoulders told Sakusa all he needed to know, so after tugging the cord from the wall and setting the dryer down next to him, his fingers curiously reached out to ghost the lightest possible touch across his shoulders, up towards his neck, careful not to wake the sleeping boy.
Beneath his fingertips, he noticed a few light scars, and curiously followed their trajectory up beneath his neck. They were mostly obscured by his hair, barely noticeable unless one was in this exact position. His long digits hovered for a few moments longer, before gliding under Hinata’s jaw and guiding his head back, until it was tipped up to the ceiling and pressed back into Sakusa’s lap.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Sakusa soothed, stroking his thumbs across the sides of his throat.
“I’m awake.” Hinata’s reassurance was unconvincing, especially since he had yet to open his eyes.
“You’re not.” Sakusa’s laugh was rare, but when it eventually graced Hinata’s ears, it was beautiful enough to wish he could somehow trap it in a jar to listen to later.
“I’m not,” Hinata finally conceded beneath his own light chuckle, and let his entire being deflate further into his man. His next words fit loosely in his mouth as it stretched into a yawn. “Five more minutes, then I’ll…hmm…then I’ll get…I’ll…”
Sakusa’s fingers combed back through Hinata’s locks the way he loved to do, pushing it off his forehead slowly, over and over. It didn’t really matter, in that moment, who had the money or the power or the experience or the desire. It had never mattered, not from the moment their eyes met, not since that first night. Maybe Hinata thought that Atsumu and Sakusa were the ones calling the shots, but when he behaved like this, when he trusted them this honestly, responded to their affections this easily, those where the moments that reaffirmed to them who was really in charge.
“Five more minutes,” he whispered back, and let his shoulders sink with a deep sigh.
“Ya’ve got that look on yer face again.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sakusa responded coolly. He’d distantly recalled the rushing of water from the bathroom reaching an abrupt halt, but had been so wrapped up with the boy curled up on the floor in front of him to fully process Atsumu’s emergence.
Atsumu smiled knowingly, and crossed the rom to sit down next to his partner at the foot of the bed. It was true that Sakusa didn’t like being touch, but somehow that didn’t apply to Atsumu; too much time had passed, there was too much trust between them for Sakusa to resist his advances.
The blond lad laid his chin comfortably against his counterpart’s shoulder, taking the moment to examine his features uninterrupted before he finally mumbled to his lover. “Lemme into that head of yers, Om’.”
Sakusa’s reply was no surprise to Atsumu. Atsumu knew everything there was to know about him, knew how suddenly and deeply he felt everything—good and bad—and how this once joke they had dribbled with for sometime, of inviting a third person into their isolated, complex little world, was taking shape much faster than either of them had anticipated into something irrational and unquantifiable.
“I think, if the time ever came, I could take a bullet for him.”
Atsumu’s lips curled into the faintest smile, his eyes unable to hold their position as they drifted down Sakusa’s clothed torso, under which there sat something hidden, something for his eyes only. “Ya’ve already done that once,” he cooed, and reached a hand up to mindlessly brushed the curls along the crown of his head. “Don’t put me through it again.”
“At least if it happened, he’d still have you,” Sakusa returned, his thumb slowly outlining Hinata’s features, his lips, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, memorizing every peak and valley on his face. “Besides, you’d fix me up fine. Just like before.”
——————
When Hinata emerged from his lecture hall, the first thing he noticed was a crowd gathered outside the building, chattering and shoving and trying to take photos of—what? Hinata couldn’t see over their heads.
He launched himself into the air once, then again, in an attempt to catch a glimpse of whatever was getting so much attention, but eventually decided to turn to good-old fashioned worming between people to get a piece of the action.
When he finally reached the front though, he suddenly wished he hadn’t, because standing amidst a swarm of his classmates was Sakusa, leaning against the hood of a black 718 Cayman, scrolling lazily through his phone, truly disinterested by all the attention.
The second the driver caught orange hair in his periphery though, he lifted his head for the first time, and everybody fell silent.
“You said four,” was all Sakusa thought to say. He famously shook his watch down his wrist, despite the universal time marked at the top of his screen, and repeated the analog time to his passenger. “It’s four-o-seven.”
The last thing on Hinata’s mind was a worthy excuse for not teleporting to the curb after his lecture. He was far too aware of the space he currently occupied amidst his classmates, all the eyes on him, all the whispers. He had taken every necessary precaution—even some unnecessary precautions—to ensure his two worlds might never collide, and it all had the potential to come crashing down at four-o-seven on a random Wednesday afternoon.
“Do you think he’s a celebrity?”
“Nah, I don’t recognize him. Maybe he’s a model.”
“That would explain the clothes. How does Shoyo know him?”
“Shoyo knows everyone.”
“You think they’re…?”
The gossip persisted, and despite his confusion and shock, the instinct to hide overwhelmed any other feeling; so Hinata swallowed his nerves for a later time and took a step off the curb into the comfort of Sakusa’s space.
The black haired man wasted no time silently leaning towards his car to pull open the passenger’s side door. Hinata could feel his face getting hot, and dropped his gaze to the pavement before getting in, but not before Sakusa lowered himself further to mumble something to him, which had everyone straining their ears to catch whatever sweet nothing the mysterious driver might offer.
“You should count your lucky stars it’s me coming to collect. Miya wanted to pick you up on his Ninja.”
Hinata sucked in another sharp breath at the thought—the uproar that only Atsumu Miya on a motorcycle could cause—and suddenly he was hit with a wave of gratitude that eased him into a steady exhale. He met Sakusa’s eyes for a brief moment, wordlessly, before he shrugged off his backpack and ducked into the Porsche.
The black interior was pristine, with heavily tinted windows and what Hinata could only assume was some sort of custom soundproofing, because the moment Sakusa shut the door behind him, it was dead quiet.
It was a sort of luxury Hinata had never once considered within his grasp. He still had to talk himself up when requesting extra cheese on his pizza; he had no real estate in his mind for even going near a car like this in his lifetime.
Sakusa slid gracefully into the driver’s seat and pressed down on the ignition. The engine rumbled to life beneath their feet, and Hinata watched the front row of spectators leap back in surprise. It wasn’t too loud to him, but then again, he couldn’t really hear anything that was going on outside.
“Is that why you soundproofed it?” He asked, turning back to the driver curiously. “Because the engine is so loud?”
Hinata couldn’t be sure, but he thought he caught the slightest smirk, maybe even a glimmer of amusement in Sakusa’s eyes as he shifted into gear and started towards their destination. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”
There was more Hinata wanted to say, some grand speech he wanted to give about discretion and boundaries, but Sakusa’s coy response now had him flustered at the thought, so he simply buried himself in the collar of his hoodie and sank further into his seat where he would remain for the rest of the trip.
It wasn’t a long drive to Ginza. Hinata tried a few more times to explain to Sakusa that he could go to the sporting goods store near campus and just get a fresh pair of the same shoes he had now, but any efforts fell on deaf ears. They ended up at Matsuya, which Hinata had once heard a few of the other escorts talk about but had yet to visit himself.
For a department store, Hinata felt strangely underdressed. Everybody looked like they were coming from the office or the runway. Everybody looked like a celebrity. He looked like…an overworked university student, in jeans that had an unintentional hole in the thigh and his last clean shirt.
“We may as well browse while we’re here,” Sakusa offered up as the pair walked through the open corridors, passing all sorts of designer brands, every display catching Hinata’s interest, but never enough for him to stop. “If you want to go in anywhere, just say so.”
“I don’t need any new clothes,” he replied distantly.
“It’s not always about need.”
“Yes it is.”
“Miya would throw an absolute fit if he heard you say that,” Sakusa snickered, then ultimately made the decision to stop at their first store: a small, upscale men’s fashion boutique. He figured it was best to start simple, and the mannequins didn’t look half bad either. The ideas were already forming in Sakusa’s mind as he pressed his fingers gently into the centre of Hinata’s back to redirect him towards the entrance. “Let’s stop here.”
The touch was light, but it was a touch nonetheless—one that Hinata had silently been pining after as their time together grew. It was the same as Atsumu’s in intention. Where Atsumu was firm and sure however, Sakusa always handled Hinata as if he were a glass already broken, held together only by its stillness.
Both touches though, had a way of commanding Hinata’s conduct so immediately, so absolutely, without any further opposition.
So Hinata walked into the store, under the guidance of that very touch.
Even still, he leaned in and mumbled to his partner as they sifted through the product. “I still don’t need any—”
“If you say you don’t need any clothes one more time,” Sakusa began to warn, with no consideration for his volume in that same bored tone as he ran his fingers along the racks, occasionally plucking out articles to fit whatever visions were now floating around the forefront of his brain. His attention was quick to drift though, once he landed on a selection of high-waisted, pleated trousers, and pressed his lips into a thoughtful, thin line as he considered the sizes. “Sho. Come here.”
“Hm?” It took a single beckon for him to spin around and realize he’d strayed too far from Sakusa, somewhere in the back of the store eyeing the wall of colourful shirts. Despite Sakusa being so tall, Hinata still couldn’t catch that black hair from behind the racks, and after a few failed attempts at catching him around the corner, he called out once more for help. “Marco.”
“Polo,” Hinata heard in the distance, and settled his once-puzzled expression into one of much more satisfaction as he followed the low, familiar voice towards Sakusa’s section. Sakusa looked up, and without a warning, reached out to hook his index fingers in the belt loops of the boy’s jeans to effectively measure the trouser’s against Hinata’s waist. “Seems a bit big,” he hummed in deliberation, pretending he didn’t notice the way Hinata instinctively sucked in his gut at the sensation.
“A heads up would've been nice,” the ginger muttered, only to hitch his breath when Sakusa gave him one more tug for good measure. Despite his grumbling though, he still rose his arms off his sides to make way for a new pair of pants—a size smaller—estimated along his frame.
It was a better chance than any to feel that touch again, to be so close. It took every ounce of self control not to reach back, not to touch his hands or his arms or chest or face; all Hinata could do was stare.
God, Sakusa was handsome. And it shouldn’t have been a surprise anymore, but no amount of daydreaming could ever make up for the real deal. He was so…sophisticated; the way he spoke, the way he dressed, the way he didn’t care about anything—it was all as if he existed on a plain above everybody else, somewhere far away, ethereal even.
It made sense for him to be with someone like Atsumu, someone just as flawless in his own way. Whatever their story, however they came to be, they were perfect for each other. Even down to the way they bickered, it was clear from the first moment Hinata saw them together that they were soulmates, bound by something greater than human comprehension.
He wondered…could a person have two soulmates? Probably not, right?
“I thought you said Atsumu was coming,” Hinata finally prodded. He couldn’t allow his mind to drift any further down that road.
“He had to meet someone for work,” Sakusa explained as he pulled away and turned back to the racks, having decided on a size, now debating colour and style. “We’ll meet him for dinner.”
“I noticed this before,” Hinata began thoughtfully as he leaned against the end of the display, passive in this search for his new clothes. If Sakusa wanted to shop for him, then Sakusa could do the work, and Hinata would be content to simply observe. “But it feels like every time something comes up, he’s the one leaving.”
“That’s just because he’s leading this project. He’s the one with the contacts this time.”
“What sort of project is it?”
Sakusa hesitated to answer, for only half a second, but it was half a second too long and Hinata could easily tell his companion had no intention of divulging so deeply. “We’re looking for someone.”
“Someone?” Hinata repeated, in hopes of dragging out more.
“That’s what I said.”
“Who?” The question earned a sideways glance, then a huff, then a smirk, and Hinata’s lips were quick to tighten towards the centre in a heavy pout. “You know, I still don’t really know what you do for work.”
“I thought Miya told you.”
“He said trade, which is pretty vague.”
“It is vague.”
“You’re not going to clarify?”
“No,” Sakusa admitted casually, and for the first time, Hinata noticed he now had over a dozen articles draped over his arm as they wandered through the store. “You should try these first to get a good baseline. We’ll still have to get everything tailored though.”
Hinata choked on his disbelieving laugh. “Baseline? You want to do more shopping after this?”
Then, he paused. Did Sakusa just…roll his eyes?
Hinata learned that Sakusa had several different faces for exasperation; impatience, annoyance, Atsumu-related irritation, non-Atsumu-related irritation, and general exhaustion. But this was something much lighter, almost playful. “Will you just humour me for once?”
“If you ask nicely,” Hinata teased back, but then just as abruptly as it appeared, suddenly that friskiness withered away. The orange haired boy darted his eyes from side to side with a fake innocence before he spun on his heels and obediently sauntered off to the fitting rooms, no questions asked.
Sakusa couldn’t help that smug, pleased expression from tugging at the corners of his mouth all over again as he followed silently behind his partner; he followed him all the way behind the curtain, though once Hinata noticed, he spun around and stretched his hands out in an attempt to stop him from coming any further.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m coming in so I can see the clothes,” Sakusa nodded his head forward, as if it were obvious.
“I’ll—I’ll come out and show you,” Hinata stammered out. He knew his face was flushing, but it was out of his control now. The changing stall was too small for them both to get any real distance. Whether Sakusa really did just want to see the clothes, there was no way Hinata would get out of the experience unscathed. “Besides, I want my privacy.”
Sakusa just clicked his tongue and stepped forward anyway, reaching over Hinata’s shoulder to hang the clothes on the hook behind his head. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“It’s not…but it’s not the same.”
“Why not?”
Because its just us now. Because you’re so close. Because there are things I want, and being this way is like dangling them over my head, just out of reach.
But Hinata couldn’t say any of that. Even if he wanted to, the words would probably get caught halfway up his throat and pull alongside them a nauseous kind of nervousness that fed off that fear of rejection, that fear that people only have one soulmate. No matter how close they were…could they ever really be close?
Hinata feared that answer.
With a subtle sigh, he submitted to Sakusa’s wish and stepped back to let him in. He watched Sakusa draw the curtain, then take up residence on the stool in the very corner of the stall to wait patiently as he began to undress.
The first few outfits were immediate rejects. Sakusa wasn’t really surprised, but he liked being absolutely positive, knowing for a fact whether or not he would like it versus just assuming he wouldn’t.
Beyond that, and a little known fact, was that Sakusa was extremely claustrophobic. He hated small spaces, hated closed doors and tight clothes and crowded rooms, but he hated the idea of being separated from Hinata more in that moment, hated the idea of anxiously hovering on the other side of the curtain, of missing a second. So he could endure.
His eyes roamed Hinata’s frame as he changed into the next outfit; a pair of grey trousers and a navy, short sleeve button up, both of which were light and loose enough to move around it, but fitted enough to show off his physique. He was on the smaller side, but still in great shape. His civvy defaults of hoodies and other baggy clothes didn’t do him justice.
He noticed too, the way Hinata’s eyes did the same. Even as he dressed himself, as he replaced different pieces at Sakusa’s request, he couldn’t help but stare at the black haired man in the mirror, who occasionally reached out to help tuck in a shirt or cuff a pant leg, but never lingered in his touch too long, despite all of Hinata’s leaning and shuffling closer in search of such contact.
This time, Sakusa stood up, his attention fixed on aligning the seams with Hinata’s shoulders and adjusting the collar of his shirt from behind as he eventually broke their long silent spell.
“Go ahead,” he offered, lowering his attention once more to the clothes. The waist was still a little loose; the pants hung lower on his hips than they should have, so Sakusa reached for the fabric to curiously fold it over along the small of his back, then lifted his gaze back to the mirror to inspect the makeshift fit.
“Huh?”
“You have something to say.”
Hinata blinked a few times, out of his own train of thought, as he followed Sakusa’s hands in the mirror. They were so big, and fit so well around his middle, if only they could just hang on there a little longer. “I don’t.”
“So you’re just staring at me for no reason.”
“You stare at me for no reason,” he countered, only to be caught off guard again by that smile.
“Who said I didn’t have a reason?” Sakusa murmured, arching a brow into the mirror, noticing how quickly Hinata cast his gaze aside for fear of meeting his.
He paused before asking, but somehow found the courage. “What’s your reason then?”
Another pause, this time on Sakusa’s part. “Why don’t you tell me what you think the reason is, and I’ll tell you whether or not you’re correct.”
“You play too many games,” Hinata scoffed.
“That’s not the reason,” his company pointed out teasingly. It was a joke, one that quickly lightened the air between them, made it easier for Hinata’s lungs to reach their full capacity.
“No, I meant—” He cut himself off in frustration when he saw that satisfied look, and quickly mustered up the nerve to spin around and face Sakusa head on. “Why is it okay for you to touch me, but I can’t touch you?”
“Are you saying you want to touch me?”
“And you keep answering questions with more questions.”
Sakusa’s eyes rolled towards the ceiling as he pondered Hinata’s latest criticism, and nodded his head from side to side in admission. “I suppose I do that a lot.”
“Am I gonna get an answer?” Hinata pushed again, for the millionth time. Why was it that Sakusa was so willing to speak his mind when it suited him, but the moment he didn’t feel like it, suddenly Hinata was pulling teeth?
“What answer do you want?” Another question.
Hinata responded before he could filter out his most extreme sense of honesty. “I want to kiss you.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Sakusa sighed. “I’m quite handsome.”
“I also want to rip your head off,” the boy groaned back, and leaned away now to knock his head gently against the cool glass of the mirror. Pulling teeth.
“That’s much harder than people seem to think, you know.”
It was a toying reply, but still sent shivers up Hinata’s spine nonetheless. “See, when you say things like that, it makes me nervous.”
“Why?”
Hinata’s features sank, as did his stomach, as the word danced on the tip of his tongue. He’d never say it, not like this, in this tiny room, so close, so…exposed. “You know why.”
“That’s true.”
“Can I ask a question?”
“Another one? Gosh, okay.”
“Why do you like me?”
The thud in Sakusa’s chest was loud enough to make his own ears ring. Hopefully Hinata didn’t hear it. He guessed he didn’t, by the way his head still tilted just a little, his eyes remained fixed on their target amidst the drawn out silence between his question and the predictable question that would follow. “What’s not to like?”
“I reject that answer.”
“Why?”
“Because I think you’re the type of person who needs to have a reason for everything.”
Suddenly, Sakusa’s eyes locked back onto Hinata’s, slightly wider than usual, still bottomless as ever, but with swirls of surprise dancing around somewhere close enough to the surface to be intimidating. “How astute.”
“And I mean…” Hinata hummed thoughtfully as he leaned further against the mirror. He folded his hands over one another against the small of his back as he settled more of his weight against the fitting room wall; he lowered his head, and shuffled his feet along the floor as he stumbled over the rest of his explanation. “Atsumu, I sort of understand better. But you…I still don’t see what you get out of all this…I keep wondering if maybe I’m not…if you don’t…God, I sound like a fucking teenager.”
His embarrassed laugh did nothing to Sakusa’s expression—not on the outside, at least—and the man spoke with calm deduction. “You’re getting flustered because you think I’m not attracted to you?”
It was hard to look at Sakusa now—harder than usual. He knew what face he would see when he looked up, which was why he couldn’t. Because if Sakusa was still wearing that disinterested, unreadable face, Hinata’s resolve would crumble into a million pieces. So with his eyes cast down still, he mumbled a reply. “You said before that…that I was in your care, that I would want for nothing. But I…what does that mean? What good is that if there are things I want that you still refuse to give me?”
Does he want it that badly? Is my affection worth a tantrum like this?
“You’re getting awfully greedy, Sho.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
There were very few things in this world that could caught Sakusa by surprise, but this exchange was one of them. He hadn’t known Hinata to be shy by nature. Upon their first meeting, the confusion of the dynamic understandably led him towards a much more timid approach, but it wasn’t long before his true eccentric personality came through.
Where he could be excitable and charismatic and bubbly, he could also be obstinate and opinionated and easily distracted and sometimes Sakusa forgot about that dichotomy; because now, hovering so close to one another, with his fingers still holding fight the waist of Hinata’s pants, his eyes couldn’t stop from flickering over the boy's face, those same features he had all too briefly wandered with his hands the night before.
Maybe he could have leaned in, but his own reflection in the mirror above that orange head of hair was quick to remind him of his place.
“Let’s buy these and head to the next store. We still have an hour before we have to meet Miya. Hurry up and change.”
Sakusa abruptly leaned back now, his tone gentle enough to lull Hinata into a submissive kind of hypnosis, while simultaneously rejecting any potential for contact in that moment. He slipped his hand away from Hinata’s body, before grabbing the approved pile of clothes and brushing back the curtain enough to exit the fitting room, leaving Hinata feeling suddenly colder and exposed and breathless and disappointed.
——————
Four stops later, the two emerged from Matsuya with an entire second wardrobe for the younger boy. The protesting ebbed and flowed, and Hinata came out relatively unscathed—with plenty of new clothes, but thankfully none of which were too gaudy or bold enough to direct any more unwanted attention.
Sakusa carried all the bags except one: the one Hinata had insisted he pay for and now clung to for dear life, as if it were a briefcase full of cash—his new gym shoes. They cost triple what he was initially willing to drop, but if he walked out of there without the slightest dent in his bank account considering how much money Sakusa had spent, he would have had to take a second shower to scrub away the guilt.
They turned the corner towards the street spot in which the car was parked, and Hinata abruptly jerked his attention up from his feet at the sound of a harsh sigh forcing its way out next to him.
Now, with a car like that, people knew better than to touch it, but it didn’t stop them from gathering or taking pictures or trying to peak into the windows to see what signs of life might hint to whom exactly the Cayman belonged.
“You know,” Hinata began as they slowly approached their ride, “if you really think about it, you sort of brought it on yourself by owning something like this.”
“That doesn’t make it any less annoying,” Sakusa muttered, and reached into his pocket for the fob to callously sound the alarm, causing every spectator to fumble and rush back for fear that they might have been the trigger.
That was when Hinata froze, because amongst the curious pedestrians was a familiar head of cropped black hair, a familiar backpack shaking around over a familiar shoulder. He knew it was coming, but still held his breath when he was met with familiar blue eyes, and instantly knew he’d been caught.
“Hinata?”
It was an unfamiliar name to Sakusa, so he didn’t bother looking up as he popped the trunk and unloaded their haul until he heard his Sho respond, and snapped his head to the side to catch the interaction.
“Kageyama,” Hinata drew out behind an awkward laugh. “What are you—? Uh, I mean…it’s funny seeing you here.”
“You too,” Kageyama breezed with an oblivious chuckle; he had yet to gather that the pair were together, and simply raised a black shopping bag into the ginger’s line of sight. “I was just picking something up for Miwa. What are you doing here? You hate places like this.”
“Ah, well I was just…so, I had to—I, erm, needed new shoes.”
“New shoes?” Kageyama quirked a confused brow and scanned the logo on the outside of his bag. It was a store that was leagues above their pay grade—as far as Kageyama knew, anyway. “But your other ones are just fine.”
In that moment, Hinata completely forgot about his segregation of his two relationships, and let his exasperation get the better of his focus as he turned and waved an arm annoyedly Sakusa’s way. “See? I told y—” He choked on the rest of his complaining when quickly realized what he’d done.
He’d invited Sakusa into the conversation, and now there was no way out.
“Wait, were you two…?” Kageyama’s eyes drifted between Sakusa and the car, then between Sakusa and his friend, and the student soon lowered his head to mumble in Hinata’s ear before the fast approaching stranger got close enough to hear. “You know this guy?”
“We should be going,” Sakusa stated plainly. After hours of quips and banter, the sudden introduction of someone unfamiliar shut him down completely. He was back to that same unreadable man Hinata first met in the penthouse, and it gave him chills. It didn’t help that his black eyes never left Kageyama’s blue ones as he spoke, as he sized the kid up, drank in his intentions, decided whether or not he posed a threat.
And it certainly didn’t help that Kageyama was doing it right back, for reasons Hinata still hadn’t quite gathered, but Sakusa figured out immediately.
“You’re right,” Hinata tried to interject, half-turning away from his classmate to try and guide Sakusa to do the same. “Kageyama, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Tomorrow?” Those blue eyes finally tore away to land on Hinata. “You’re not coming to Tanaka’s party tonight?”
“Shit, that’s tonight?” Hinata drew a heavy sigh of disappointment and lifted a hand to push his hair off his forehead. The stress was making him sweat, and he scratched at his scalp as his mind drifted back to their last conversation about the big event; Hinata had agreed to go with Kageyama, to stick with him all night since the guy wasn’t the best at casual mingling. “Ah, I thought it was tomorrow…”
Kageyama’s shoulders sank in defeat, arms hanging low at his sides. “You’re not coming,” he gathered pitifully.
“I…yeah,” Hinata eventually had to admit. “I made other plans, ones I can’t really…you know.”
“Other plans,” Kageyama repeated suspiciously. He couldn’t help his gaze from wandering back towards Sakusa. It was a stare that made Hinata unendingly nervous, because Sakusa hated when people stared, so it was only a matter of time before he—
“Is there something you’d like to say?”
Hinata shut his eyes briefly and sighed. Now he’d done it.
After opening them again, the ginger took a step forward once more, now somewhat in between the two towering lads, as if he had any chance of keeping them apart should something happen—not that it would, not with Sakusa’s self control. Kageyama on the other hand…
“This is Tobio Kageyama, from my program,” Hinata began. Maybe formal introductions were the best route to take. “And this is Om—”
“Sakusa,” he interrupted. There was no way this Kageyama kid was going to be calling him Omi. “Kiyoomi Sakusa.” It was the first time Hinata had heard that name, and snapped his head quickly towards its owner, wide eyed and slack jawed. Had it really been that easy? Could Hinata have just asked? “I’ve heard plenty about you.”
“Sakusa,” Kageyama repeated, eyes narrowed in thought before his lips twitched into a smirk. “Funny, I haven’t heard anything about you.”
“You wouldn’t have, would you?” Sakusa hummed right back. He was still expressionless, but his implication certainly did its job, as his eyes flickered down just in time to watch Kageyama’s grip on his shopping bag tighten in frustration. His attention on the new face didn’t stay fixed for long though, and soon Sakusa’s focus landed back on Hinata; he jerked his head towards the car and repeated his previous direction. “We should be going.”
“Right,” Hinata swallowed. He was doing his best to ignore the way Kageyama’s focus suddenly shifted, but if he stayed any longer, there was no telling exactly what might be said by any of them. Hinata liked his separation. The idea of Kageyama learning this side of him, this life he led, mixed with the fear of not knowing what he might do or say in response, was making his chest painfully tight.
All he wanted to do in this moment was escape, and with Sakusa offering just that, his loyalty was obvious.
Sakusa pulled the passenger’s side door open for him and he silently slipped inside. He debated saying goodbye to his friend, but it would be much easier to just make up a lie later on, than face Kageyama with his shaky voice and racing heart.
This time around, he was grateful for the silence of the car, the immediate sanctuary it brought, knowing Kageyama couldn’t see him, knowing he was cut off again. If he were alone, he would have let out all of his frustration then and there, but Hinata was still painfully aware of the driver now sliding in on the other side.
They sat together wordlessly for a full minute with Hinata staring out the window, watching his friend turn and walk away, and Sakusa staring at him, staring out the window.
Finally, Sakusa broke the silence. “You’re uncomfortable with your two worlds colliding.”
“How can I not be?” Hinata croaked; it was as unsettling as a true cry or whimper—the sound of someone holding back what they truly felt—and earned a deep frown from the driver.
“Sho,” he beckoned carefully. “No one can judge you for doing what it takes to survive. We live in an unforgiving world, and we don’t owe anyone an explanation for how we choose to navigate it. Atsumu and I know that better than anybody. Your slate is clean.”
My slate is clean…
But was it really? Could it ever truly be clean?
Hinata feared that answer.
When Sakusa received no response, not even a look his way, he drew out a soft breath and spoke again, as gently as he could. “Look at me.”
But Hinata didn’t. He couldn’t, as he swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked back his tears. He wasn’t really that sad or hurt, he was just frustrated. This just happened to be how it was bubbling over, how months of an endless revolving door of clients and liaisons and performances was finally pushing against the surface.
But it had ended, as suddenly as it started, because of Sakusa and Atsumu. Or…had it? He still had no idea what he was to them, he still couldn’t fathom being anything more than a fuck, than a bit of fun amidst a mysterious life.
So…was his slate really clean? No. That much was impossible. That was the moral, personal price for which he knew from the beginning he would suffer on behalf of those choices.
“Look at me,” Sakusa repeated, no more loudly or impatient. It was this calm voice that would inevitably coax Hinata’s gaze back where it belonged.
When he finally turned his head, he was met with a tender, pacifying kiss.
Hinata almost didn’t know what to do. He remained frozen for a few moments longer before his eyelids begun feeling heavy and he could comfortably sink into this new sensation. It was careful and exact and flowered so naturally, stealing his breath and scrambling his brain.
Sakusa’s fingers curled along the side of Hinata’s throat, pressing into the base of his jaw as he held the boy’s head in place, moving only to sweep his thumb just beneath Hinata’s eye, catching the single escaped tear before it rolled down his cheek.
Before Hinata had a chance to truly reciprocate anything though, Sakusa began to retreat. He only pulled away a few centimetres at first to give himself room to speak, to whisper to the sniffling, stunned boy. “There. So don’t cry. You are a complete person. Do you know that? You are not too full of holes to be filled, and even if you feel like it, you don’t have to feel it all on your own. Lighten your load. Let us relieve you. That’s all we want to do. That’s what it means to be in our care.”
Sakusa soon after wandered Hinata’s features a few moments longer. His tear-stained thumb found its way along Hinata’s lower lip, stroking it affectionately before he leaned away and straightened back into his own seat, leaving the boy amidst an emotional haze, a dreamlike state, with lips still tingling from such a brief, gentle kiss, eyes still stinging as the weight of Sakusa’s words filled his once tight chest like the breath he had forgotten to take.
The rumbling of the engine beneath his feet was no match for the slamming of his own heart against his ribcage.
And Hinata was so entranced, he didn’t even notice that, on the other side of the street still, Kageyama saw the whole thing.