Archive of Our Own ^beta

From: Hinata Shouyou MSBY

(03:24 a.m.)

Can I come in?

I don’t wanna knock and wake the others

(Fuck)

(Fuck Fuck Fuck)

It’s the beeping sound from its cellphone that stirs him from his chaotic sleep. Not like he couldn’t sleep very well to begin with, since the night before he had decided to confess his feelings to his roommate who is also his teammate who is also every V-League players’ sweetheart and who is also probably on his way to reject him.

Deep breath, Sakusa Kiyoomi. Inhale, exhale. Count to ten. Repeat.

His cellphone emits a flebile and imperceptible light, but he knows he has to answer. The thing about living in dorms is that you tend to anticipate and predict the habits of your roommates. Like Bokuto, who couldn’t be stirred away from his peaceful and dreamful nights even in the events of a fire hazard. Or Miya, who rambles in his sleep constantly and tosses around like crazy.

Like Hinata Shouyou, who diligently goes to sleep around eleven p.m., preparing himself for the morning after.

Like himself, Sakusa Kiyoomi, who is a light sleeper whenever something has got him so caught up that he can’t seem to be able to think about anything else - a cliffhanger on a tv-series, a bad play during the game, confessing his feelings to one of his closest friends through a letter kind of thing. 

The faint light keeps coming from his phone. He knows he has to answer. He also knows that he is not entirely ready for the conversation they’re about to have. Also, why is Hinata awake?

Also, how do you prepare for the imminent confrontation of your feelings with your crush?

Also, he didn’t check with Komori before doing it. Anxiety is definitely creeping in on him. And it’s three in the morning. Why do volleyball deities come to no avail when he needs them?

This is Miya’s fault (and it's his fault for listening to his dumb ideas).

To: Hinata Shouyou MSBY

(03:29 a.m.)

I’m opening the door, you can come.

He can hear the mumbling from the adjacent room. Seconds later and Shouyou’s at the door, restless face and crazy hair spiking into every possible direction.

And the worst part is? Kiyoomi has seen him in all of his glory. Game-time concentration, training session sweats, the jogs in the morning and the quiet smile he has when he’s preparing dinner and he cooks a little bit more so everyone can have a taste. But this version of Hinata Shouyou, ruffled up, t-shirt which is three size bigger than him, sleepy eyes and a hand which tries noncommittally to give his hair some sense - it doesn’t -, this image that it’s beside him now illuminated only by the faint lights of their phones… well. It’s doing him things too. That’s the extent of the nightmare Kiyoomi himself has been immersed in for weeks. 

“Can I sit?” It’s such a low whisper that Kiyoomi thinks he imagined it. But Hinata is gesturing towards his bed, so he definitely didn’t dream it all up. 

He just nods, making space for him on the mattress. 

“I couldn’t sleep. But I guess you already figured that out.” He chuckles nervously, scratching his head and looking at everything in the room but not him. If it weren’t for the fact that it’s three a.m. in the morning and Kiyoomi himself doesn’t even know in which state he’s currently in, he would take pride in the fact that he managed to make Mr. sunshine incarnate (and the most extrovert person on the planet) a little bit flustered.

But it’s three in the morning and Kiyoomi has spent the majority of the night tossing his covers aside, blaming the volleyball deities, Miya Atsumu, the whole V-League and again Miya Atsumu, for his problems, so he definitely still thinks that this is an hallucination of some sort.

He must have spaced out again ‘cause he feels the covers shifting imperceptibly, a familiar scent now closer than before, and when he turns carefully it’s a mop of tangerine hair, and a quiet smile, who greets him.

The fact that Hinata Shouyou is so close to him at three a.m. of a terrible sleepless night, a few hours after having confessed his feelings to him with a letter like some hopeless fifteen years old, it’s baffling. It’s a dream coming true. It’s terrifying. It’s everything all at once.

The absurdity of the situation continues to baffle his mind, up to the point in which he actually feels his hands being held by someone else’s. But not for long. When he looks down, he only sees a single piece of paper. A very scrabbled-up piece of paper. Does this mean Hinata is rejecting him? Does this mean…

“I couldn’t wait until morning. Please, read.”

He promptly follows.

Dear Sakusa-san,

First of all, thank you. This is the first time in my life I’ve received a confession letter - nope, a propositional letter, you called it - and a hand-written one (your calligraphy is very nice by the way!) and that got me thinking. Like, real thinking. I remembered my first year at Karasuno when I was a no-one and I was so depressed about the fact that I hadn’t received even one confession letter, so yeah. You got me there. Thank you, again. I will cherish this little piece of paper for the rest of my life. As you can imagine, I also have to lock it somewhere safe because in this dorm the concept of personal property has been long ago forgotten. 

But back to the task ahead. The real thinking actually led me to not being able to sleep (at all). I paced back and forth in my room, like, so much! I felt like I was on cloud nine while also being so incredibly terrified. You must be terrified too and also you must be thinking that I have gone completely insane. But yeah, my endless pacing actually led to me sitting down and trying (and failing at it miserably like you can probably see) to write a response which could at least be worthy of your time.

So, the panic started kicking in. I had just sit down, and I couldn’t find a single piece of paper that wasn’t scribbled-on and I really really really needed a good piece of paper, like yours! You deserve a good letter and before I even started I was already making so much mess. So I buckled up and went to Atsumu-san for help. I cannot (and won’t) tell you the exact reaction he had at my request, also because this letter it’s becoming very long and I am no way near to what I want to say.

See? I don’t know how this happened. I can’t even write a letter! How did this happen? You went to college! I was always so shitty at school, I didn’t listen during literature hours and I definitely haven’t read that much to begin with. I am losing at it already (and the internet doesn’t help too!).

I texted Atsumu-san again ‘cause I definitely needed more courage (maybe the liquid one, you know? Training be damned tomorrow) but he just said that he is as good as me when it comes to school stuff. Aaaaaargh! I then texted Bokuto-san as well but he is with his handsome boyfriend at the moment so I don’t know if I’ll ever get an answer from them (like, I know. Akaashi is so handsome?! I think it’s inevitable to point that out once in a while. I feel you).

I began diverging again and I understand that your letter probably took a ton of effort. While mine… well, it isn’t looking very good, huh? 

I am sorry about it. I have stopped multiple times to gather my thoughts, but I always gets stuck. The mere idea of you deciding to write a letter to me and slipping it under my door and then coming to dinner like everything was the same is making me so restless.

It’s like… have I ever told you that I had a thing for aces when I was in high school? I used to be all up about them, gathering informations, obsessing over their plays, imagining myself as one. And you were one of them. Who am I kidding, actually. You were one of the most talented person out there! Not just because of Itachiyama, but because of your skills. You were the one who dragged his team to victory (not the other way around).

So, let’s just say… it’s like your idol comes up and tells you that he likes you. That he respects you. I have read your letter so many times already that I feel like I know it by heart. In the spun of a single night, my whole perception of you changed. 

‘Cause I couldn’t be imagining that you were looking so closely. And that’s because I was very well-intended in continuing looking at you closely. And I didn’t actually thought possible for you to look back.

Does that make sense?

I am sitting at my desk, and even if it’s tidied and all of the mangas I bought are neatly arranged, I feel like it’s the messiest place on the world. ‘Cause the mess it’s inside of me, and I feel like a storm raging in. I feel like I could definitely storm into your room now and confront you about what you wrote. But you wrote me a letter. And you took time and effort to write a good one. The paper is so nice, not this one single piece of paper that I got from the copy machine. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi actually wrote me a letter. It seems like my mind cannot bother to think about anything else. 

So, I am attempting at writing one. I even read snippets online but it’s not like I can’t copy them. And I usually read action manga so I definitely can’t get inspired by those. 

The thing is… I have been looking at you. And at first, when I arrived at MSBY, I was wary. Because even I manage to befriend a lot of usually called unreachable and cold people, you really seemed intent on minding your own business, focusing on your career and definitely not up to shenanigans of any sort.

And yes, I remember the first time we actually spoke; apology accepted, by the way. But I am glad you wrote a letter to say that you were sorry.

That day, when you called me “Mr. I got a fever and got benched” I remembered how much I had looked up on aces, while in high-school. So what I had been meaning to tell you then, and that I have never found the courage to, is that I looked up to you. And I still do. 

What I’ve been meaning to tell you is that I’m looking at you. All. The. Time. 

And before you even have the time to question it while reading… it’s driving me nuts. You are driving me nuts.

Please. Please continue reading. I know myself. I definitely won’t be able to wait until morning. And I probably won’t be able to leave your side while you read. But I need you to reach the end of it before talking about it. I need you to read it all. ‘Cause it’s my effort, and ‘cause yes, I always want to prove that I’m worthy enough to be in the same room as you monsters. And today, I want to prove that I’m worthy enough to answer your beautiful confession letter (I had been meaning to tell you sooner but things got out of hand with all the reminiscing of the past and all… that was a love letter. Even if you don’t want to admit that. Definitely because you don’t wanna admit that. But you were so cute tucked under the covers that I can let it slide - but the bit about the Jackals? I knew you love them and now I even have physical proof of it!).

So… 

It’s the way I imagine you reading this. Focused, your hands firmly on the paper. The curls that get in your way when you don’t have that elastic band to put them back. I like those, by the way. See? I’m trying to be romantic but I end up being thirsty. Pardon me. You’ll probably laugh at that. Like, in the way you subtly lift the corner of your mouth and your eyes light up a little - just a little so if someone is not close enough or doesn’t pay much attention it’s invisible (but I am and I always pay attention) - like when Bokuto-san says something funny but truthful and we all understand that a guy like him comes once in a lifetime. When we witness some terrific play by Atsumu-san, or a bunch of tremendous serves one after another, and we know he’s gonna be smug about it later but we also know that deep down he’s the most insecure out of all the bunch. So you smile a little. When I talk about them and this dorm you always smile a little. Just, a little. I used to think that it was for just a few of us to see. I am now certain that it is just for me to see. I now understand that maybe I was put into this team so I could witness the breathtaking beauty that it is to see you smile.

It’s the way you care about the team without anyone noticing. It’s the way you care about this sport and chose to be here. Chose this lifetime instead of others, chose this bunch of chaotic people instead of other teams so we could fight our way against all of the big guys. It’s the way in which you had to face an other, imposed path, but still, you are here. Like me. 

It’s the way you understand what it means to feel like everyone is going ahead with their dream. And you’re just staying behind. 

It’s the care in which you wake up everyday, early and fast, so we can jog a little bit more. The little chat we have before immersing into the run. The sunrise that greets us at the same spot. The methodical routines. The times you decide to indulge us in team's events even though you hate them. The times in which we stay behind to practice some more and even if you’re tired you stay with us. The times in which you let me stay beside you. In which we watched movie marathons and were the only one awake. The look on your eyes when you thought that I was singing to you. That glint. The faint blush on your cheeks. It’s everything about you. It’s everything about you.

It’s everything about you.

It’s the fact that you made the first step and wrote me a letter. It’s the fact that you let me be with you. For the stretching and the moments in which the press or the fans got too overwhelming. 

I am, you know? All in for the ride. Whatever this may be. I think that after that very cheesy listing you probably figured it out, but still. 

I have never felt anything like this in my whole life. Because you’re definitely nowhere near anyone I’ve ever met. I’ll do my best. That’s what I can promise. 

I hope this letter manages to explain… everything I felt. Everything I am. Everything I feel when I am near you. I hope it does.

Yours, truly

Hinata Shouyou 

P.s.

I’m definitely not gonna wait until tomorrow. I can’t. I physically can’t. This letter is driving me nuts. You know, at a certain point, Bokuto texted. Akaashi had a pretty good advice in letter-writing and I took it by heart. It also involved waiting until a reasonable hour before delivering but I definitely won’t tell them this. And pardon me, ‘cause I’m about to wake you up - if you managed to fall asleep but you probably did ‘cause you’re calm and collected and I am a mess and you went to college and are you sure? I mean yeah you seemed sure in the letter so I won’t ask.

He told me to write it from the heart. Not minding literature devices or internet tips. He told me to write it following what I was feeling. Being myself. I have never written anything this remotely long in my entire life so I don’t know if I even managed to make you understand what everything meant to me… but you can be sure that I poured my whole heart into this. 

So maybe, when we go to our morning run and we stop when the sunrise is more visible, even if we’re sweaty and even if there is gonna be no element of surprise because I’m dumb and I’m writing it but I still want to do it… maybe, I can kiss you. Maybe you can let me kiss you. Maybe that can be the start of it all. And we give it a try. Because from what I understand, we’re both willing to do what it takes to make it work.

See you in the morning, then?

(Bonus scene)

“Bokkun, Bokkun, come here, I knew it!”

The morning light surrounding them. The cold sensation from the fabric. Legs intertwined. Hands held together. The weight of a body you’re not used to. 

“They look so cute! OH MY GOD!”

Your teammates yelling in the morning and your mind frantically registering the fact that they’re probably at your door, spying on you. But why?

“Shush, you’ll wake them. I wanna take a pic first.”

Atsumu Miya and the inability to do things without announcing them first.

The resounding click of his phone taking the pic.

The fact that the body pressed next to you is shifting imperceptibly. ‘Cause he was awake, but he still indulges them. The fact that the morning light gets caught in his hair and makes him seem like a vision, a divine creature from an other planet.

“Come on, love birds! We’ll gloss over the fact that you were too busy last night to even go on the usual morning jog… but we need to head out soon!” Atsumu Miya’s casual and sassy remarks that betray the feelings of pride behind it.

“I am so happy for you! Come on, come on, we’ll have boyfriends on the team! Maaan, Akaashi gives the best advice!” Bokuto’s yells which fill the house. Your teammates bickering on the way to the kitchen.

A new day that awaits you. You turn and there’s a face welcoming you. A serene sight. You’re face to face. A few centimeters apart. Legs intertwined and hands held together. The weight of a body you’re starting to feel used to.

“Good morning.” He says, smiling.

“Good morning.” You say, smiling.