He knew he’d seen that glare before.

The minute you walked into the MSBY office, all stiff posture and clipped tone, Atsumu got a weird sense of déjà vu—like he'd once lost a bet to you and never really let it go. But it wasn’t until you shoved a folder at his chest and barked something about "sticking to the media schedule" that it clicked.

Inarizaki’s class rep.

You.

Back in high school, you were a pain in his ass. Always calling him out in front of the class, acting like you were better than everyone with your perfect grades and no-fun attitude. He made it his personal mission to irritate you. The way your eye twitched when he smirked? Addictive. He didn’t care that you hated him. Hell, he liked it.

But that was years ago.

You were different now. Sharper, quieter. Still bossy. Except now when you glared at him, it did something weird to his chest. Something warm. Stupid.

He kept pushing your buttons out of habit—teasing, smirking, saying things just to see how long it would take before you snapped. But then you did snap. Not at him, though. At the world.

He found you sitting alone in the locker room, mascara smudged, shoulders trembling. For a second, Atsumu just stood there, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t good at… this. But he sat down beside you anyway, cracked open his protein shake, and held it out like an idiot.

“You look like you could use this more than I do.”

You didn’t smile. You didn’t say thanks. But you drank it.

And that’s when it hit him.

He didn’t hate you anymore.

Worse—he wasn’t sure he ever did.