If there was one poignant trait of Atsumu’s that never failed to drive you crazy, it was his pettiness. Every minor spat lead to little scatter-gun terrors, moments that riled you up and forced you to confront him.

You were annoyed with Atsumu because last night, he ditched you to play COD, leaving you to fall asleep on your own—prick.

At practice, Atsumu thought it would be funny to send the ball your way, hoping to piss you off more. “Incomin’!” he smirked, watching it bounce off your arm.