Chapter Text
Atsumu Miya didn't think that he would ever become a model. It wasn't because he didn't think he had the looks for it, because who wouldn't love his lovely face and toned body? His mind was set on volleyball, and his life wouldn't go any other way.
After joining the MSBY Black Jackals last year, however, he was scouted by MSBY’s own modeling agency after his third game by a well-known agency, and the rest was history.
He had to switch from his 5-in-1 men's soap to a proper routine of washing and caring for his hair, including frequent salon-quality trims and bleach touch-ups, thorough body cleansing, and Korean skincare and sunscreen. However, he quickly adapted to this new regimen and eventually found comfort in it. He appreciated the clean and fresh feeling the free PR products would give him after a long day of practice, and didn't mind spending one day a week to promote them.
Beyond self-care, Atsumu modeled watches, sports magazines, athletic wear, high-end fashion, cologne, vitamins, and you name it. All these gigs on top of his salary as a volleyball player allowed him to buy his own penthouse and dream car, and everything he thought he wanted, so there was no reason to feel that way. He had his dream job, supportive family and friends, an active sex life, and a great salary, all he could think of.
Atsumu's phone rang as he sat in his hotel's bathtub near midnight, looking down at the streets where cars were speeding around and tourists were exploring the city of Tokyo through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He groaned before picking up the phone, and it was his manager, so there was no ignoring it.
"Hello?"
"Good evening, Atsumu. I know this is a bit sudden, but since you're officially in the off-season, I was wondering if you're open to booking more shoots. There are so many brands that want your face on their ads, and you finally have the time in your schedule."
Atsumu paused for a moment to think about her sudden request. He was sulking after losing to EJP Raijin in the national semifinals because of his own error, and he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, let alone in a professional manner. He did need something to take his mind off the loss, though, and taking the jobs was better than rotting in bed all summer long.
"I'm fine with that. Just send me the shootin' dates and locations, and I'll letchya know which ones I'll accept."
"Great! I'll text them to you soon, and you can reply to me once you've looked them over."
"Thank ya, I'll see ya later."
Before Atsumu was able to hang up, he heard her speak again.
"I'm sorry about your game today. I wanted to give you more time to recover, but the station manager-"
"No need ta pity me. I'm glad yer concerned, but I can move on and take it as a lesson. Good night, Yachi."
Atsumu hung up and only realized then that he was being too harsh again. His filter was always gone after games, so he just took it as that. A minute later, just as requested, Yachi sent him a neat calendar layout for the next three months. The soonest of the shoots was one for tomorrow, and it had an asterisk.
Calvin Klein Underwear Shoot with Kiyoomi Sakusa, 14:00-18:00 *cannot be rescheduled due to Sakusa's tight schedule
Atsumu rubbed his eyes. Squinted, for safe measure, splashing some water on his phone screen.
THE Kiyoomi Sakusa? The one on the cover of Vogue? The face of Japan?
Atsumu laughed at how ridiculous it was that he was about to be humiliated tomorrow by being placed beside the most gorgeous man on the planet. They aren't in the same league of beauty. Did that mean he was going to skip out on the shoot? Nope. He never knew that it was a possibility to get to meet Sakusa in the flesh, and now it's going to be a reality. Without hesitation, he called Yachi back.
"Why am I scheduled ta do a photoshoot with THE Kiyoomi Sakusa? Howdya even convince Calvin Klein ta include me in the shoot?"
"I was waiting for you to realize. Actually, they called me first because their next campaign is in celebration of Pride Month, and they thought you would be a good fit."
"I-"
Atsumu almost dropped his phone into the bathwater.
"I'm not gay."
That was true, but he wasn't going to spill that he wasn't exactly straight to anyone yet. Not even his own twin. Unfortunately, he had never slept or even kissed a man in his life, as much as he wanted to, so it would be a while before he would be ready to tell the world.
"I told them I wasn't sure if you were the best candidate, but it seems like the gay community online has been quite open about finding you attractive. Sakusa’s also one of the most fawned over in the gay community, as the whole world knows by now.”
"Huh. I'm pumped for whatever this is, so see ya tomorrow. And confirm the shoots with all the other brands. I might get too bored without it."
"Got you. Good night."
"G'night."
After the call ended, Atsumu jumped out of the bathtub and grabbed a towel from the rack by the sink, and hummed in delight, drying every inch of his body before rubbing moisturizing lotion on his skin. He took off the face mask he forgot about until he looked in the mirror. He stared into his reflection, wondering how his face had carried him so far. He did share his face with his twin, but he was always told that there was something utterly distinct about the way it looked on himself that made the two so distinguishable (besides the hair). He wasn't sure if he recognized it as the boy who dreamed of playing volleyball.
His phone dinged, and it was Yachi notifying him that the shoot for tomorrow was confirmed.
In that case, he should get in bed and have a good night's sleep so that he wouldn't let anyone down with his eye bags and foul mood.
-
Atsumu's alarm was a phone call from Yachi at 11 A.M., though it shouldn't have been. He didn't think to set an alarm at 8 A.M. last night, and his habit of oversleeping came at the worst possible time. He just let it finish ringing and hopped in the shower for a cold rinse and hair wash before putting on a basic outfit to get to his agency's office.
Yachi called again after ten minutes, and all Atsumu heard was to get to the office as soon as possible. He was trying, and that meant getting an Uber on his agency's credit card and telling the driver to go as fast as he legally could, because he couldn't risk getting another driver pulled over with a speeding ticket. He pulled out his phone and turned on the camera to check if he looked presentable, and he did. Not perfect, though, but that was what the hair and makeup crew was for.
Atsumu was lucky that his agency's office was only five minutes away from his apartment complex and that they had a snack bar. He was starving from skipping dinner last night and breakfast just now, so a good granola bar was just what he needed.
He made it to Yachi's office in the back, and her hair was tied up in a bun. She was dressed as if she were about to visit the prime minister. Atsumu spotted his own reflection in the glass panel of Yachi's cubicle and knew it was over.
"Good mornin’, Ya-chan! How late am I?"
"Only by a few minutes. I just need you to sign the NDA and contract about the campaign. If this marketing campaign does well, you could possibly have a long-term collaboration with Calvin Klein!"
“Sounds nice! I'll make sure I look fly enough ta be booked again," Atsumu replied with enthusiasm. He scanned the pile of documents with print smaller than his eyes allowed him to read, and just signed. It was the same spiel all brands have about not spreading word of the project to anyone and how long they would be in collaboration for. They usually had a summary at the end, and these specific ones mentioned a 2-month-long bind. He used a random pen low on ink and signed his signature and the date as needed. He slid the papers to Yachi, who proceeded to place them in her precious binder dedicated to only Atsumu and his gigs.
"Ready to go?"
"Yeah. Is the set far from here?"
"I think it's-"
Yachi checked her phone and knit her eyebrows as she pulled up the address.
"Normally, it would be half an hour driving, but today it's an hour away because of the traffic from the arena for the... volleyball finals."
"Fuckin' hell. It's okay. I'm fine."
"If you need to take today off, I'd be happy to let you do so. Even for a shoot as important as this, since they specifically requested you, and can work around your schedule."
"Nah, it's better fer me to spend the time I have doin' somethin' than nothin'."
"...If you say so. The car is here, so let's get in and talk about some of the next few shoots I have scheduled for Asics clothes and shoes."
-
The traffic died down sooner, so they ended up arriving at the studio fifteen minutes early. The entrance to the building was quite grand and contemporary, given that the Tokyo branch of the company was quite developed. Atsumu was greeted by new faces of whom he supposed were representatives of Calvin Klein, who escorted him to an elevator with more floor buttons than his fingers and toes could count.
Mostly monochromatic greyscale furniture was laid across the 3rd floor, where the actual photoshoot was taking place, and the hair and makeup crew were already there waiting for him.
No Kiyoomi Sakusa in sight.
Atsumu's pent-up excitement died down a little. He figured it was a realistic possibility that Sakusa's schedule was too busy to fit this photoshoot in, but at least he had the chance to work with such a high-profile brand.
The Calvin Klein representative walked Atsumu and Yachi around the floor, introducing them to several people, including Asahi, the designer of the underwear he would be modeling, the photographer, and Terushima, the hairstylist.
After the brief introductions and signing of some more papers, Asahi handed him a brief to put on as fast as he could behind the changing curtains. It was mainly Heather Gray, with a white waistband that had the logo printed around it.
Contrary to popular belief (of Hinata and Bokuto), Atsumu never modeled in less clothing than a tank top and shorts since he didn't want any special magazine covers to haunt him once he settled down. This was unknown territory for him, and he had to admit to himself that he was afraid of how the crowd would feel about it once the campaign was released.
Atsumu was finally able to sit on a fancy, genuine leather spinning chair with plush cushions and armrests in front of a mirror. Terushima was tousling his hair around so that the strands could look messy in a laid-back way while another stylist was applying a glowy serum to add a shine to his chest and back, concealer under his eyes, and smoky black eyeliner to emphasize his honey-brown eyes. Atsumu was doomscrolling with a burner account and no thoughts in his head to pass the time. Luckily, it only took about ten minutes because Atsumu naturally had the effortlessly hot look the company was striving for, and didn’t need too many touch-ups.
Before he knew it, he was lifted off the chair. His phone was pried from his hands by Yachi, who gave him a face of disapproval he knew all too well. He made his way to the set, which was a simple white backdrop and a white block that looked like a three-step staircase. The spotlights were a cool-toned bright white that felt sterile, and made Atsumu's pecs and abs look like they were radiating rays of light. He felt too exposed and wanted to grab some kind of cloth to hide himself out of decency, but that defeated the whole point of the campaign; if he were to cover his body, the subject of sex appeal to a queer audience.
Asahi was more than just the designer. He was also the creative director of the shoot, since he straightforwardly explained to Atsumu how to angle his elbows as he leaned on the staircase-esque block, which way to tilt his face, and how intense to make his signature smirk. He was directed to do several other poses, but in the midst of them, he heard the main entrance open and saw a mop of black hair making its way to the hair and makeup station.
Atsumu was clearly distracted when Asahi had to tell Atsumu to look at the camera, and not beyond it. His heart was pounding in his chest as if it dawned on him that he would finally get to meet the world's top model. He still had to maintain his patience and endure a few more poses until Asahi told Atsumu to hold still, and left to wherever Kiyoomi was.
Atsumu was left alone with some technicians and the cameraman for a minute or so, allowing some of them to nervously approach Atsumu and ask for a selfie or an autograph. Atsumu happily complied with his usual for-show smile.
Everyone's heads whipped in the direction of the footsteps.
There stood all 6 feet and 3.7 inches of Kiyoomi Sakusa in the flesh, plus some less revealing boxer briefs, compared to Atsumu’s that revealed his thigh in its entirety, though the color scheme was the same. His body had the same glow as Atsumu's, only his skin looked milky white and had more of a pearlescent glow rather than Atsumu's golden one. His dark curls partially obscured his nearly black eyes, and his brooding and soul-piercing stare was even more impactful in person. The moles scattered across the plains of his skin were the sprinkles to the icing on the cake. His wide shoulders and snatched waist caught Atsumu's eyes, and his eyes continued to trace down to his toned abs, a somehow perfect bellybutton, the deep V-lines that led to his cro-
"Kiyoomi Sakusa. Model representing IMG Models.”
Atsumu was startled when he heard the tenor voice come out of Kiyoomi. It was unexpected, but it seemed fitting at this point with how intimidating his presence already was. He stood up from the staircase-esque block and bowed down.
"A-Atsumu Miya! Starting setter of the MSBY Black Jackals and model representing the MSBY Agency. It's a pleasure ta meet ya, Sakusa!"
The room was dead silent.
It was especially severe, as the scene was two grown and gorgeous, nearly naked men being equally awkward in different ways in their first meeting. There wasn't any other way for it to play out, though.
"Please step on the set, sir. We'd like to make this quick as we know you're in a hurry," Asahi rambled, while Atsumu swore he saw sweat dripping down his forehead.
Sakusa complied and made his way to where Atsumu was while he went back into formation to continue the shoot as if it wasn't ever interrupted.
“Sakusa, lean on the upper part of the staircase, facing away from the steps, and rest your elbows on it," Asahi commanded. His entire demeanor changed, and the atmosphere was too formal for what Atsumu was used to in shoots. Usually, the crew would be cracking lighthearted jokes between shots and having side conversations about the next big thing.
"Relax your hips and shoulders a bit, Miya. Sakusa, you're doing perfectly as usual."
Atsumu could feel his cheeks and ears warm up from embarrassment as Sakusa was already "perfect," while Atsumu still needed instructions on how to be more presentable, which was quite humbling.
No wonder Sakusa was known as the top model in Japan.
Atsumu couldn't help it, though; he's less than an inch away from a very, very attractive man, and his anxiety in setting a bad first impression was taking over his body, making simply existing feel uncomfortable.
The camera flash went off at least twenty times before Asahi instructed the two to switch to a different pose. This time, Sakusa was leaning back on the staircase while Atsumu was on the floor in front of it, with one leg lying flat on the ground and the other bent with his arm resting on it. Sakusa's head was twisted in a side profile, showing off his signature twin moles on his temple peeking through his curls. Atsumu had a lazy look on his face that was tilted forward as he stared straight into the camera through his eyebrows.
"You two make a stunning pair. Asahi did amazing picking you two." A man with messy black hair in an expensive red suit broke the silence once again.
"Kuroo, pleasure to have you with us today,” said Asahi.
"Don't mind me passing by. I'm the chief in marketing, just checking to see if things are going according to plan. And oh yes, they are." Kuroo crossed his arms and stood next to Asahi, spectating.
"Wait. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you played fer Nekoma in high school, didn't you?” Atsumu broke character to ask.
"Played? I was the team cap-“
"Enough with the chatting."
That shut the two up real fast.
Asahi spoke up right after, just in time. “O-okay. Now, Sakusa. I'm not sure if you'd be fine with physical touch for this session, so let me know if you'd like to move it to be in part two of the campaign and do the shoot another time."
Part two? Atsumu knew nothing of this shoot being one of two, or even more parts, but this excited him. Another chance to see Sakusa Kiyoomi in person was like a prayer being answered, despite his apparent bratty attitude problem, which tarnished Atsumu's formerly pristine image of the supermodel.
"Yes, please. I don't think I'm willing to do that today."
Atsumu was slightly disappointed by the response, and he would've been even more so if he hadn't expected it beforehand, given it was Sakusa.
"That's alright, sir. I've accounted for that, and I only need Atsumu here for a few more shots before it's your turn for solo photos, so you’ll be out of here in no time.”
“Great, thanks.”
The tension between Sakusa and Atsumu only grew from there. Atsumu was some gross and disgusting scrub, apparently, with the way Sakusa’s tone in words was so foul.
For the next few poses, as if to rub it in Atsumu’s face, Asahi made the two stare directly into each other’s eyes with half-lidded gazes and stay within a few inches of each other, to bridge the gap that physical contact would’ve done. He also removed the staircase prop so that the two were just in front of a completely bare set, and with just five more shots, Atsumu’s work was done for the day, and stepped off set, getting his clothes back on and saying his goodbyes and thank you’s to everyone who worked on set that wasn’t currently preoccupied with Sakusa’s solo shots.
Yachi quickly trailed behind Atsumu as he rushed into the elevator to finally escape and once again sulk, this time not just about his volleyball season ending so soon. He was glad to have his mind taken off of that for just a few hours before reality would hit again.
Once the awkward elevator ride was over, Yachi sighed and sat down in the lobby on a pillowy abstract form that was probably supposed to be a couch. Atsumu joined beside her, splaying out his limbs as he sank into the cushion.
“I already called the driver to come pick us up, but traffic is delaying him by," Yachi checked her phone. “-forty-five minutes.”
“So, whadya think about eating some udon noodles next door? I’m starvin’ right about now, Ya-chan.”
“Just so you know, this isn’t going under the company’s card again, Miya-san.”
“C’mon! It’s gotta be like a thousand yen max! MSBY ain’t gonna go broke from a small dinner.”
“Fine, you’re right. I don’t know how I’m able to deal with you anymore.”
-
The restaurant was virtually empty, save for the waitress and chefs in the kitchen, so their food came in a jiffy. After four bowls of udon, three of which were Atsumu’s, the total came out to be about 4,000 yen. Yachi, as always, caved in and swiped the company’s card regardless of the cost and went straight to the restroom to sulk for a bit for the scolding she will get from her boss, even if it’s Atsumu, who’s supposed to take the blame, but she secretly always covers for him. Atsumu felt bloated and just doomscrolled for a bit to ignore the discomfort, and was thankful that his fast metabolism would fix that soon. The car still wasn’t here yet, but could get there at any moment.
Unexpectedly, the bell attached to the door jingled, and through the tinted glass, Atsumu could make out a tall and curly-haired figure. His suspicions were correct once he saw that it was indeed Sakusa, along with his agent, Komori. He definitely wasn’t there at the shoot, which was weird.
“So ya didn’t have to rush ta another gig after all, ya stinkin’ liar!” Atsumu was genuinely pissed and ditched the emotional regulation tactics his PR media training team taught him, even rudely pointing at the man, who stood there with a grimace on his normally stunning face, which annoyingly didn’t make him look any less heavenly.
“I didn’t. But saying so helps expedite the shoot by usually thirty minutes, which I’d like to keep for myself. Especially if I’m working with an amateur model who drags the process longer than necessary.”
“Hey, now yer just bein’ mean. I am not an amateur, Omi-Omi. This ain’t even my full-time job anyway, so it wouldn’t matter if I sucked at it.” Atsumu noticed how Sakusa’s grimace deepened when he made up the nickname on the spot, which he was quite proud of, given the pressure.
“It would matter. You’re still taking people’s time away for the sake of your whims, and it pisses me off.”
“I wouldn’t care if a scrub like ya got pissed by me. In the end, we’re all getting paid more than the average person, so it ain’t really that deep if we lose an hour or two ta get the perfect shot.”
“Forget it, it’s not like you’re one to change your mind.”
“Oh, really, Omi-Omi? Enlighten me.”
“You don’t get to give me a nickname, Miya.”
“Yeah I can, Omi-kun. You get set off so easily, and it’s hilarious to see.”
“I could say the same for you, asshole.”
“Watch yer mouth!”
“Only proving my point. I can’t even remember why we’re fighting.”
“Ya called me an 'amateur,' ya prickly jackass!”
All of a sudden, Omi’s composure returned to him, and his face relaxed.
“I don’t want to argue with you anymore, so I’m going to leave now, and you’re going to remember to sleep more next time so that the makeup and post-shoot editors don’t have to work so hard to cover your dark circles.”
“I-“
Sakusa turned around right away and left the restaurant without another word, with Komori awkwardly trailing behind him, giving Atsumu an awkward apology in the form of a wave goodbye.
“The damn prick didn’t even apologize.” Atsumu turned on his phone again and spammed the three-person group chat with his twin and his twin’s boyfriend before Yachi came out of the restroom.
“What happened while I was gone? I heard yelling.”
“Oh, nothin', sweetie! Just a douchebag who came in ta pick a fight. He left already, so we’re good ta go.”
Atsumu saw the black van parked outside the restaurant, and it was his ride home. He could use a beer or three from the 7-11 outside his apartment.