𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 . sakusa kiyoomi

07. rich people problems

narrator's pov.

you were laying on your bed staring out the floor to ceiling windows of atsumu's house when there was a knock on the door. "come in," you said.

"'tsumu's getting ready, he wanted me to give this to you," rintarou held out a black garment bag.

"thank you," you smiled, taking the bag from him while still sitting on your bed.

he closed the door and you unzipped the bag, groaning at the dress that you could already see sparkling in the early evening light.

"jesus, miya," you groaned.

you had already told him that you were not going multiple times, but he rarely did take no for an answer on little things. this event that he was trying to get you to go to, however, was no little thing.

being too lazy to get up and walk down the hall to talk to him, you decided to give him a phone call.

he picked up and you immediately sighed, "atsumu."

"y/n, i know you're tired from work, and i know this is the last thing you want to go to, but you gotta hear me out."

"hear you out? i meant it when i told you i'm not going and i especially meant it when i said not to buy me a dress," you yelled angrily.

"i know, but just try it on for me? if you still don't want to afterwards, i won't push you to go," he told you sympathetically.

you stared at the dress again and got up from your messy bed, "how much?"

"what?"

"how much did it cost?"

"i'm not telling you that," he said.

"'tsumu, i'm not a charity case. i can pay you back for a dress eventually."

"this isn't charity. put it on and call me back," he hung up.

you ran your fingers over the material - it definitely wasn't cheap.

"fucking atsumu."

—

you were sitting in the back seat of a limo with atsumu, "how'd you get my measurements right?"

"they're the same as the first time i took you here," he leaned back against the seat.

"do you think anyone will notice i'm wearing $20 shoes?" you asked, looking down at the heels you brought four years ago but only ever wore once.

"you're wearing a $10,000 dress and you think anyone's gonna care about shoes?"

"i'm sorry, 10,000?"

he avoided your confrontation, "wow look at the crowds, we're almost here!"

"i hate these events," you looked out the window, watching the crowds forming as you got closer to the gala. "i hate you even more for making me go to them."

"you had fun last time!"

"last time i had your fans harassing me on social media because they thought we were dating," you smacked him.

"to be fair, we were fucking."

you glared at him.

"okay, yeah. but it'll be different this time, i promise!"

—

he reached down and tapped your wrist and you turned you head to him, "what?" you smiled for the camera's, not wanting a bad photo of you being taken.