𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 - 𝐤. 𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚

𝟑𝟏 | 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

┊͙˖*°

sakusa stared down at your text, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"ohhh, you little whore!"

sakusa shut his phone off and slipped it into his pocket with a small sigh. he looked over his shoulder to he greeted by atsumu's looming figure.

he pulled the mask that hung loosely around his chin up to his face, turning to face him.

"why are you so close to me?" before atsumu could answer, sakusa furrowed his brows as he processed his words. "and what do you mean whore..?" he asked, his brows creased in confusion.

atsumu didn't answer, he simply smiled and rubbed his hands together. sakusa couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight. he looked ridiculous – like some villain from a cartoon.

"quit that. you look like a fly." sakusa scoffed, turning on his heel, the grip on his duffel bag tightening.

atsumu followed the boy out the gym, a sly smirk etched on his face.

"were you texting y/n?" he cooed as he fell into step beside him.

sakusa said nothing, but he could feel atsumu's eyes burning a hole through the side of his head. why was it any of atsumu's business if he was texting you or not?

receiving nothing, atsumu continued, "and was that a smile i saw?"

with a sigh, sakusa turned his head slightly, meeting atsumu's teasing gaze, "you know, it's rude to invade someone privacy."

the two made their way to the trainer's room where sakusa was quick to plop his bag on the floor before signing in.

atsumu ignored him, his grin growing wider, "you wereee!! i knew it. thought you didn't want to participate in my experiment, omi?"

the trainer briefly greeted the two and sakusa idly returned the greeting, tossing the pen back down and making his way to the cabinets in the corner of the room. normally, athletes would just use the available items, but the trainer had a few separate things for sakusa to use seeing as he didn't like using things that had already touched who knows what.

"i don't," sakusa said simply, scowling at him.

"so what was that then?" atsumu asked, propping himself onto one of the treatment beds, his eyes carefully following sakusa as he plugged the machine into an outlet before turning it on.

sakusa said nothing, pressing the ball of the massage gun to his shoulder, avoiding atsumu's questions.

atsumu laughed at that, "you like texting her, don't you?"

"i don't like you in my business, miya."

the blonde pouted at the use of his last name, "aww, c'mon, omi, it's a harmless question! tell mee."

it was weird, even to him. he couldn't quite place it, but for some reason he didn't mind texting you. you were different from all the noise– though that's the part that was confusing.

why? what made you different?

you were the type of person sakusa tended to dislike, yet he didn't. not entirely anyway, but you were more tolerable than most people. that didn't make sense though.