sinister (miya atsumu)

2

You wake up to the sun shining brightly through the blinds that you forgot to close last night. Rolling over, you groan while looking for your phone.

Patting around the bed, you close your eyes, wincing at the dull ache behind your eyes. If it wasn't obvious before, then it's definitely obvious now. You one hundred percent overdid it last night.

Unsuccessful with finding it, your eyes immediately zero in on the nightstand beside your bed. It's usual bare surface now contained a glass of water, a few aspirins, your phone, and a note.

A note that you can only guess who it's from.

You lean over and pick it up, bringing it close to your face so that you can actually read it. It's written on a sticky note, something that you didn't even know you had. The thought of him searching through the junk drawer in your kitchen makes you laugh.

It seems like he also found a purple marker while he was at it, considering that's the utensil it seems he used to write the message.

Speaking of, the message itself is simple, but sweet.

Y/N, I hope your headache isn't too bad. If it is, here's some aspirin and water. My number's on the back if you need anything. Call me ;)
—Atsumu

You catch yourself smiling as you flip the note over, seeing his number scribbled on the back, just like he said.

Thinking back to last night, you don't exactly remember much, especially in the beginning. Actually, you have no idea how you even found Atsumu.

Of course you know that he was at the bar, and you vaguely remember approaching him, but that's about it. Everything between that and him carrying you to your house is basically a blur.

From what you do remember, he was a complete gentleman. Honestly, you expected nothing less from him. From the first time you talked to him, you noticed that he was a genuinely sweet and caring guy. Of course he would be the type to take care of you while you were drunk.

As you try to remember exactly what you said that prompted him to take you home, you begin to get more and more anxious about your wording choices. You were known to be a bit flirty when you were out of it.

Grabbing your phone from the nightstand, you immediately go to call him. You would text, but honestly, you would rather hear his voice. Looking back and forth between your phone and the note, you put his number in and press call.

Putting the phone on speaker, you roll over to lay on your back. You set the phone beside you on your pillow so that you can still hear him without holding it directly to your ear.

It only rings twice before he picks up. With a raspy voice, he answers, "Y/N?"

It sounds like he just woke up. Before you answer, you check the clock on your nightstand. It's only ten, so you figure you woke him up.

You answer, "Shit, did I wake you up? I'm sorry, I—"

You pause.

Did he say your name?

You let out a laugh, "How did you know it was me calling?"

You hear some rustling before he answers, "Just figured. Don't usually get calls from unknown numbers, and I was kinda expectin' it."

You roll your eyes at yourself. Of course that's how he knew it was you.

"Right, duh."

Now sounding more awake, he asks, "How are ya feelin'? I hope yer headache ain't too bad. Did ya see the pills I left for ya?"