A Reason for Being

30. Come here

Brown hair is probably the most common hair color.

And the young intern height is below average. Y/N's is considered tall in his eyes.

Even still, her heart begins to pound faster, echoing footsteps reach her office door.

A smile forms on her face, and she considers the possibility.

He came to see me.

He is leaning against the wall, staring out into the skyline. His hair, as described. Brown. The mocha hair, slicked back, perfectly styled.

He was handsome. A most attractive face looks over to Y/N. But it wasn't the brown eyes she was looking for.

"Atsumu? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Hey, darlin'." He winks at her. "What? I can't visit my favorite girl?"

He walks closer to her, opening his arms at her to come to greet him.

Even though it wasn't the face she wished to see, Atsumu always brings a smile to her face.

She rolls her eyes with a smile, bringing her lips to his cheek.

"You always come to see me. I figure I'll return the favor." He says as he wraps his arms around hers.

His usual fitted attire remained the same, minus the vest and tie. His black fitted shirt with loose buttons exposing his neck and collar bones. His exposed skin, decorated with pink and purple bruises.

"Tsumu!" She gasps, poking at his love marks pretending to be surprised. "You said I was your favorite. Mentiroso, cochino." She laughs

"I don't know what the fuck that means, but yes. I am, doll." He flirts. "Looks like my mark didn't stay for very long..." he says, examining Y/N's neck. "Come here. I'll leave you a proper one."

Rolling her eyes, she playfully shoves Atsumu away from her.

"No, but seriously, I came to see you." He smiles at her. "Having business here is pure coincidence."

Atsumu getting on a plane for the sheer fact that he is bored is not uncommon. Just by the marks on his neck, he tried the local cuisine before coming to Y/N's office. Which means he came to see how his suit was coming along.

Y/N walks back to her desk to grab the rough sketches she made.

"I've started sewing it together, but this is all I'm showing you." The piece of paper had various line marks and scribbles.

"Are these supposed to be my measurements? Because they are wrong." He states, looking at the numbers scribbled on the piece of paper.

Y/N's death glare is specific to her annoyance. She does not like being told she is wrong.

"No, it's not." She bluntly replies.

"Sorry darlin', but you're wrong." He smirks. Getting a rise out of Y/N, something he enjoys doing. "I would hate that you'd go through the trouble for it not to fit."

"Atsumu. I'm not wrong." She crosses her arms.

"Take my measurements then. If you're wrong, you can owe me another favor. A sexy one this time." He winks.

Only to wipe that smug look on his face, she reaches into her desk to grab her measuring tape. Guiding him to the center of her office, he stands with his usual cocky expression on his face.

With her back to the door, she begins her measurements.

"I've been working out. So, I'm a little thicker than usual." He flirts as Y/N's arms circle his waist.