sunaosa blind date thoughts— okay, so sunaosa used to be high school sweet hearts, but there was always this impending boom that nothing would last forever, and so, in their third year they break it off. it was the ‘right person, wrong time’. they were perfect for each other—

it’s just that... they had to go their separate ways. so in the end, they break up and don’t speak again for a few years until komori and suna wound up as apartment roommates. which isn’t terrible, komori is a decent person, but pesters him about dating twice a day—

“I think you should start seeing people, you’re kinda boring.” komori says, while they’re stretching post-practice. suna wants to ignore him, and he so tries, but komori doesn’t stop there. he bothers him on the way home from practice and the next day—

and the day after that, and finally, suna gives in. for komori to stop bothering him so much. “fine, one date.” and komori grins and leaps away typing at his phone.

“tonight, eight o’clock. don’t be late.”

suna reaches the restaurant, stuffing his phone into the pocket of his jeans. he does not want to be here. there’s a reservation under komori’s name as the receptionist leads him to a table, where there is already a man sitting and there and suna thinks, fuck—

this should not be happening. wait. this definitely should not be happening. miya osamu sits in a table, grey turtle neck setting off his murky, earnest eyes as he appears to be typing at his phone furiously.

“shit.” he says out loud. osamu looks up, as a wry grin evident on his face, he drops his phone.

“well I’ll be dammed. I should’ve known better when Tsumu offered a blind date that I shouldn’t resist.”

an awful easy smile appears at suna’s mouth, “you think im irresistible?”

“so yer my blind date. huh. I assume komori roped you in?”

“he can be a bit persistent at times.” and osamu tips his head a lil and laughs, like it’s old times.

“are you gonna stay? I promise I don’t bite.”

like a magnet, suna slides into his seat and is handed a menu. osamu orders a water, and suna quickly bides the waitress goodbye with ordering an iced tea. as he taps his fingers against the table, waiting for the next move. osamu is handsome, slightly rugged—

quieter maybe thicker hands from long days at onigiri miya which according to komori is actually delicious. “so, how’s yer season been so far?”

suna thinks, and ponders, surfacing the knuckles of osamu’s hands, “it’s been fine.” he says. “Your brother, Atsumu, is annoying.”

and osamu laughs, it’s lighter never quite bursting with energy. “tell me something I didn’t know. he says yer quite a delight to play.”

suna rolls his eyes, just a little. “he’s being nice, for someone who takes delight in crushing us every time we play”.

“he can be that way sometimes.” osamu hums, as their drinks come and together they quickly order.

suna twirls his hair, sipping quietly. osamu looks at him with complete focus, like he was the only person in the whole, bustling, busy restaurant that matters—

don’t look at me like that he wants to scream, and then maybe sweep him in his arms and kiss him raw. but he doesn’t, and instead watches as osamu keeps to himself. “how’s business?” suna offers to begin the conversation. how kind of him, he thinks sarcastically—

osamu grins, his smile lighting up like he was on top of the world, talking about the one thing he was passionate about. perhaps more passionate then he ever was with suna in high school. “business is good, it’s been busy ever since Tsumu has been helping with promoting.”—

“I see.” he replies quietly, taking another sip. “komori told me it wasn’t terrible, your onigiri.”

osamu smirks, easy going and delightful. “I suppose I should be offended, that ya haven’t had a taste of my onigiri. stop by sometime and I’ll give ya a discount.”—

their food arrives, as suna places his elbows on the table. “now that’s a deal I can’t resist.”

and there’s a moment of silence as they dig into their food. and then the conversation flows. suna continues to talk about volleyball, a sport they once shared. while osamu adds—

his bits of commentary, the occasional genuine laugh that suna could bathe in and once did in another lifetime. it shouldn’t be this easy, to talk to him after years. it should be illegal. he despises komori and atsumu. and it doesn’t help that osamu is desperately handsome—

in the more quieter ways, and he looks too good in a turtle neck. he’s also single. You can where suna is going with this. but no, this isn’t good, you shouldn’t be able to speak him like this, so familiar.

they split the bill, because there was no use in arguing over it. “I can take ya home.” osamu offers.

suna shakes his head, smiling a little. “aren’t you the gentlemen?”

“do you think any less of me rintarou? I’m offended.”

they begin to walk home in the direction of suna’s apartment. there isn’t too much chatting, their bellies stuffed and the aftermath lighting up in his heart like fireworks. osamu is gentle, warm, still handsome, and sweet. suna never truly did deserve him in the slightest—

when they arrive at his door, osamu stops and suna preps the key from his pocket. “It was good to ya rin.”

oh. in the vanished moments of perfection and distilled desire, he was rin. suna gives a quiet snort, “it wasn’t terrible having to see your face.”

“always the charmer, I guess you still are the same person.”

suna begins to unlock his door, “good night miya.”

“good night rin.”

And the door shuts. as he throws his keys onto the kitchen counter and komori pops in from living room—

“so, how was it?”

and suna groans, feeling the urge to throw his head into his hands and scream.

“absolutely terrible.”

komori laughs, rolling his eyes.

suna thinks, fuck. oh god. he wants to see him again.