Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Osamu smiles, waving warmly as his last employee leaves, the younger teen jogging out of the shop with a soft click. Osamu’s eyes track her through the gaps in the door until she disappears from sight and into the darkness of night. He lets out a sigh of relief just as a warm arm slips around his waist, a soft tug immediately pulling him into a careful embrace. He feels his smile brighten as he presses himself into Suna’s side, that gentle comfort enveloping him as he leans his head to rest on his boyfriend’s shoulder. 

“Good job. Are you ready to go?” He hears Suna mumble quietly before planting a kiss on the side of Osamu’s head. Osamu nods with a soft hum. 

He hesitates to move despite the assurance, reveling in the moment, thanking whatever deity had been watching over him for the fortune he’d been brought recently. Onigiri Miya was doing good, great even, with Suna’s frequent public visits and Komori’s growing attendance as well; news was coming out naturally that Onigiri Miya was a place to visit for volleyball lovers. With those fans came genuine reviews, and all in all, he was seeing the effects that these positive events were bringing him. He was finally getting on his feet, or so it felt like. Yet, even as he stands here, the luxuries of his long nights and exhausting efforts shining before him, he can’t help but feel that ever-present bitter bite to it all. 

He could picture that stupid smile and soft yellow hair now; the man probably would’ve been leaned over on the biggest table he could’ve sat at just because he could. He probably would’ve still been wearing that hoodie Osamu had bought him in high school despite the fact it was now much too small for him now. He’d probably grumble about Osamu, calling him fat, which would make absolutely no sense while he himself was demanding free food. 

Osamu swallows hard as his smile dims, a large sigh decompressing his chest until he can’t push out any more air. 

He pulls his head off of Suna’s shoulder, untangling them as he grabs the top of his apron, pulling the string over his head, before taking off the black garment. “I’ll meet you in the car, just going to lock everything up.” Suna nods, walking over to the doorway to the kitchen, one hand resting against the wooden doorframe as he leans his upper body past the entrance just far enough for him to reach the keys that dangled on a hook on the opposite side. When he leans back, he uses his hand to display the keys like they were some kind of trophy. 

“Don’t be long, I want to be able to talk with you over dinner tonight.” Osamu huffs out a short laugh. Suna was asking a lot; even now on his feet he could feel the weight of gravity pulling on his eyelids, each opening of his eyes harder than the last. 

“We’ll see.” he settles before passing the man in order to walk towards the back door. He gives the kitchen one last pass, looking over the counters to make sure they were clean and checking the sink for dishes, before finally ending up at the door leading to the back alley. It locks with a simple click, loud and distinctive and yet one that makes Osamu feel that much safer. 

It’s only as he’s making his way back through the restaurant and towards the front door that Osamu grabs his phone, taking the small device off the charger. It died during his shift due mostly in part to the fact that he’d forgotten to charge it, but now an image of Suna, Komori, and himself celebrating the other two’s volleyball wins smiles up at him. He feels his shoulders drop as he watches random notifications slowly crowd their way onto his phone. 

He begins to walk while he scrolls, finger gliding over the screen. Twitter, group chats, spam messages from apps, all things he could check later flood his device. He lets his phone fall to the side as he steps out the front door, making sure to hit the lights on the way out. It’s only when he’s nearing the car that he spots the ever-familiar picture. 

‘1 missed call from Scrub’ stops Osamu in his tracks, his eyelids crashing down in an effort to push away this sleep-deprived hallucination, except no matter how many times he blinked, the name stayed put and unwavering. 

He sucks in a shallow breath, a series of complicated thoughts and feelings flashing through him. Old anger, new relief, and disbelief. Osamu knew that eventually Atsumu would come back; his brother was an idiot but not stupid. Once he finally broke it off with that girl, he’d realize that Osamu was right, as is common in most of their fights revolving around Atsumu. Osamu just had never expected his brother to put up with that girl for this long. In fact, Osamu had no idea why Atsumu would ever get with a girl like Mei at all. It didn’t take a genius to see how horrible she was, with that horribly sweet voice that sounded like she was trying to grab the attention of every man in a three-mile radius and the fluttering lashes as she openly flirted with any man stupid enough to fall for her trap. 

He’d always felt something wrong about her, but only after a winning volleyball game were his suspicions confirmed. Osamu was lucky that Komori had overheard that one-sided barrage, and he could still remember the vivid flash of anger that had overwhelmed his body.

Komori looked like a walking ball of anxiety when he stepped into the shop that day; Osamu could see the clear concern on Suna’s face once the smaller man had walked in. 

He’d taken a seat, grabbed a small chair in the corner, his hands fidgeting in front of him like he was expecting to be hunted. Osamu didn’t hesitate in pushing Suna to go talk to him, ignoring the fact they still had quite the line built up waiting for food. It took Suna a few moments to take off his apron before he was at the table, eyes gentle as Osamu watched the two talk. 

Except the conversation hadn’t ended an hour later as he’d expected; Suna had sat for maybe two or three minutes before he’d sent Osamu an anxious glance. Osamu knew then something was wildly wrong because why would Komori come to his shop looking like this? The pit in his stomach had already dug itself deep by the time Suna had walked over, putting the apron back over his head. 

“He says he needs to talk to you about Atsumu,” Suna said quietly so as not to let the customers in front of them hear. Osamu felt a bit winded because how was he supposed to react to someone telling them there was something potentially wrong with their twin? Enough so that he looked like the downcast man in the corner. Osamu tried to mentally prepare a speech, another apology that he’d grown quite accustomed to giving back in high school. He could still remember the annoyance that had flashed through him because he’d never thought he’d have to continue taking accountability on behalf of his twin all the way into their adult years. 

Osamu had taken a deep breath and nodded. “Alright, man, the counter, I’ll be back.” Suna had given a curt nod as Osamu walked toward the caramel-haired man, all the while Osamu tried his best to not let the growing concern show on his face, especially not in front of Komori and his customers. He let something akin to a smile rise onto his lips as he put up his hand in a small wave as Komori looked over at him. He was quick to scoot the chair opposite him back before sitting. “Hey Komori, are you okay?”

It killed him to try not to immediately address his growing worries, but Komori was Osamu’s personal favorite of Suna’s teammates so he felt like at least trying to put the other first. He also hadn’t thought that what the man had to say would’ve been so bad; at the time he’d been diluted into thinking his brother talked to him about everything. 

“Hey Osamu, I’m okay.” Osamu tried to ignore the tightness in the man’s tone, like he had a hand wrapped tight around his throat. “Listen, this is probably nothing you don’t know, but…” It was only when Komori’s foot had begun to rapidly jackhammer against the floor that Osamu started to doubt himself. “I don’t think I have it in me to take chances.” 

Osamu glanced around the two of them, taking into account the publicity of their conversation. He was lucky, though, that everyone seemed to focus on getting their food or on their own conversations. When he looked back at Komori, he gave him a small nod, one that was just as uncomfortable as he’d looked. 

Komori had taken a moment, and Osamu could see the debate playing out in his head on whether he should speak and how. Despite the outcome, Osamu was still thankful to this day that Komori had said something. 

“After our match a couple days ago, the one against the Jackals, I’d realized I’d not said bye to Kiyoomi yet. So I went back towards their locker rooms. I knew it was late, but I figured I’d chance it. That was when I heard it.”

The longer he spoke, the more he looked like he was going to implode. Osamu would be lying if he said it wasn’t freaking him out, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I think it was a girl; she had a higher-pitched voice, but she was yelling, like, loud screaming degrading.” Osamu knew immediately what was to come. “I was going to step in because I thought it was a rogue fan or something, maybe even someone confronting security, but then I heard Atsumu. He was trying to calm her down, but she just wouldn’t stop. He sounded pretty used to it? Like I’ve seen and heard about the fights he’d gotten in over volleyball, and he sounded about ten times as passionate about those. I don’t know, it could’ve been nothing but-”

“Was her name Mei?” The question startled Komori into a momentary silence, but Osamu watched as Komori realized his suspicions had been confirmed. 

“Yeah, Atsumu tried to call back for her.” Osamu’s hands clenched uncomfortably tight. He’d always known that girl was horrible. Always. That day had just been the straw that broke the camel's back. 

He hadn’t bothered to hide the anger on his face as he pushed back his chair and stomped to the back; he’d ignored the concerned look on Suna’s face as he disappeared into the alley behind the building. It hadn’t taken him long to pull out his phone, knuckles white from the amount of effort it had taken to restrain himself. He knew Atsumu would’ve been back by then, so he called. 

He’d known he’d been too late when he heard the defensive tone Atsumu had taken, ending with the words that Atsumu had meant for the first time in his life. Words that had changed their relationship entirely overnight. 

Osamu would be lying if he said he’d not wanted to kill his brother after that call; months of resentment towards his brother from the avoiding he’d been doing had finally been freed, but the realization of how severe the situation had been only hit him after a week, when he tried to call his brother only to be immediately sent to voicemail. It was only when the texts didn’t send that the distance between them had felt suffocating, and once Osamu realized what that had meant, something in him declared itself done. 

He wasn’t proud of it, but at the time he’d decided he’d be true to his word and let his brother sit with the mess he lay in for once in his life. Atsumu was too prideful to admit defeat until it was his only option left, so Osamu was okay with waiting until his brother finally realized his mistake. He was tired of trying to force his brother to do things that should’ve been obvious, so if Atsumu no longer needed his help as he’d said, Osamu was more than happy with giving him that space. 

He’d only expected to be blocked for maybe a month; that was the longest they’d ever ignored one another back in high school, but Osamu supposed that with time and space came an ease in ignoring, and before he knew it, a year had pounced upon him. 

That girl had been the reason he’d not talked to his brother for a year. 

Now his phone displayed the missed connection. 

He clicked the number, but the call didn’t even try to go through, immediately going to voicemail. Osamu couldn’t ignore the pain in his chest, that spear of hurt that could only come from missing a chance. He was already blocked again, but he tried not to let his thoughts get too bad. Atsumu was finally trying to reach out, finally willing to let their problems be water under the bridge again. If he could unblock him, then Osamu could wait for him to try again. 

He moved again, already planning how he was going to tell Suna the news. When he got into the car, though, Suna was looking at him strangely. 

“You okay?” Osamu blinked once before Suna’s concerned expression fully registered in his mind. He pulls himself into the car but shocks even himself when he doesn’t nod immediately. 

“Atsumu called.” The air in the car freezes, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Suna’s body clench almost involuntarily. Osamu just tries to focus on getting himself buckled in and getting the car started instead of the disappointment that’s about to cloud their household tonight. 

“What? What did he say?” Suna asks quietly; Osamu feels bad when he hears the hope in his voice. 

He hesitates a second. “Nothing, I missed his call, and I think I’m blocked again.” It took that one simple line for Suna’s body to deflate like some kind of pool float. He doesn’t speak as Osamu puts the car in reverse and begins driving home. Nothing needs to be said; the air is suffocating enough. 

“He didn’t text?” Osamu shakes his head. He can see Suna nod in his peripherals. He sets his arm down on the edge of the car door before placing his head in his hand and looking out the window. 

The music is quiet in the car, just enough to slowly chip away at the oppressive air. They’re halfway home when they both jump at the sound of Suna’s phone ringing. Osamu’s heart hammers at the shock as the phone illuminates the dark car. Suna is quick to pick it up. 

“It’s Komori.” He says flatly; it’s not fully unexpected. Komori had become more of a frequent visitor in their life, and Osamu was almost glad that they’d have a distraction to focus on. Suna doesn’t need to ask as he accepts the call and puts it on speakerphone. 

“Hey Komori, what’s up?” Suna asks, leaning over onto the center console so that if Osamu spoke, he could be heard. 

“Hey,” Komori’s voice shakes in a way that immediately sets off alarm bells in Osamu’s head. “You guys haven’t heard from Atsumu tonight, have you?” 

Osamu’s heart drops. It’s strange how anything relating to his brother these days did that. But now, all he could think about was that day; it felt like it was starting all over again, maybe even in reverse. Except this time he didn’t have the option of correcting the past because he had no way to get into contact with Atsumu. 

“No, why what happened?” Osamu is trying to keep his voice steady, to appear as something calm and collected like he usually tried to be, but the ravenous monster called worry was trying to swallow him whole. 

“I think…” he hesitates. “Listen, I think something’s wrong with Atsumu.” 

“Is it the girl again?” Suna asks this time, noticing the growing anxiety in Osamu. He can see the way that Osamu’s grip on the steering wheel triples. 

“No, uh, I think it might actually be Kiyoomi.” Osamu blinks, temporarily startled out of his growing worry. 

“What?” Komori’s tone didn’t match the situation. Had Atsumu and Kiyoomi gotten into an argument? From what Osamu could remember, they did that frequently back in high school, and while sure, they didn’t fight as much on the Jackals, it wouldn’t surprise him if they still fought now and again. 

“Kiyoomi called me; he’s asking for your number. He sounds pretty freaked out.” 

Osamu’s brows furrow as he chances a glance away from the road and to the phone. He had no idea what was happening; he was too tired to understand what was trying to be gotten at. 

“Apparently Atsumu was acting pretty weird tonight. The Jackals went out to a bar on Atsumu’s invitation, and when he and my cousin were talking, from what Kiyoomi says, he was saying some pretty weird shit, talking about how he needed to get everyone together for the night, how he was going to miss people, hell, he even started apologizing about high school.” 

Osamu’s mouth dries. He hadn’t spoken to Atsumu in a year, so he didn’t know what was causing this. Atsumu got quiet sometimes, but he never pulled anything like this.  

“Sakusa said he left super quickly after something happened between the two of them. He’s freaking out, man. I’ve never heard him talk so fast.” 

Osamu feels like he can’t breathe. But that bad feeling, the one that had tugged at the back of his brain, was growing, and every mention of Atsumu was making his stomach do somersaults. 

“Tell Sakusa to call Suna, just send him his number.” Komori agrees quickly, and not even ten seconds later he watches as a new number appears on Suna’s screen. They don’t bother saying goodbye as they accept. 

“Kiyoomi, where’s my brother?” Osamu asks before the other man can get a word in, his voice shaky as panic presents its ugly face.

The voice that greets him isn’t the annoyed one he remembers; it’s panicked and tense. “I don’t know.” He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and somehow that makes Osamu feel like he’s going to explode. He’s suddenly all too aware of the cramped walls of the car and how heavy his foot was beginning to feel on the pedal. “I-I don’t know what happened. It was like one minute he was fine and then the next he was talking about how I was inspirational and how I needed to take care of Bokuto and Hinata.” Osamu doesn’t like this; he’s been too out of the loop. He knew he should’ve pounded on that idiot’s door months ago, but he had been so angry, and why should he put effort into talking to someone who clearly wouldn’t listen? But he’d been stupid too, too blind to realize what he’d been enabling.

“Where’s Mei? Did he leave with her? Please don’t tell me he walked off with that mother fucker.” There’s a pause that feels too charged. 

“Mei broke up with Atsumu a long time ago, don’t you remember?” Osamu freezes. The words startle his brain into a short circuit. 

“She what?” 

“She broke up with him. Atsumu didn’t talk about it a lot, just announced it was over. How don’t you know this? He says he talks to you every week.” There's a bitter taste on his tongue; something about all of this is spelling something unforgivable in Osamu’s brain, and he needed it to stop. Why hadn’t his brother called him? This whole time he’d assumed that he’d been with the girl. That she’d been the reason he never picked up the phone. But if what Sakusa was saying was true, then his brother just hadn’t wanted to. “Whatever! That’s not important, listen, has he called you guys yet?”

It’s very important to Osamu; this simple fact had already destroyed his mind within the two seconds he’d known it. Even Suna could see the devastation on Osamu’s face, a hand quickly grabbing his arm reassuringly. 

“He uh, he tried to call me a little while ago. I was working so I missed it.” Somewhere in the distance of the call, the sounds of an engine roaring flare. 

Kiyoomi sighs frustratedly on the other end. “Fuck. He was really scaring me, like, I’ve never seen him like that before. He was rambling and laughing, but it didn’t reach his eyes; it was like he was watching things from afar or something.” Osamu needs Sakusa to shut up, to stop saying these things and just tell him where his brother is. 

He doesn’t hesitate; Osamu’s body just moves without thinking. He jerks the steering wheel, hearing angry honking from behind him as he pulls an illegal move. His house was only minutes away now, but Osamu couldn’t handle this anymore, couldn’t be complacent like he’d been. He’d ignored the signs; he was supposed to be the calm brother, the rational one, but he’d been too selfish. He should’ve known his brother would do something stupid without him, and now he was talking nonsense. 

Osamu could picture his brother now, snot-nosed and holed up in his apartment, that stupid blanket Kita had made him pulled up all the way to his nose like he was some kind of shaman. A fat tub of ice cream would be sitting in his lap as he whined about how life had failed him yet again. Normally Osamu would roll his eyes, call his brother dramatic, and then steal his ice cream until Atsumu got angry enough to snap out of it and start a fight. Things tended to be fine from there. 

But something was nagging at him. Maybe it was that the more he heard, the more his brother felt like a stranger, or the way that even someone like Sakusa Kiyoomi knew more about his brother than he did currently. But he couldn’t stomach the thought of another night without his brother. He was tired of it, tired of thinking about his blonde, rambunctious twin late into the night, praying desperately that the man would just pick up the phone. He was tired of visiting his mom and seeing an empty spot at their table. He was tired of the silence that seemed to occupy his house now like a memory long forgotten. 

Suna didn’t say anything as they sped in the direction of Atsumu’s place. With his luck, it would take them an hour or so, maybe less if he broke laws, but something dark was twisting in his body, a feeling he hadn’t felt since high school. 

“Where is he?” he asks again, not caring that the answer probably hasn’t changed, he just needs an answer. His hand races to grab Suna’s, seeking out some form of reassurance. He didn’t like this; he didn’t like any of this. 

“I don’t know. He left…He left after he kissed me.” The words come out like regret. 

“He what?” Osamu nearly yells. 

“It was so weird; it was like he was bidding me goodbye. I pushed him away because he was drunk, and I was shocked, and there was no way I wanted that to be my first kiss with him, but- I think he thinks I rejected him and he just ran, I didn’t even get the chance to stop him.” Osamu’s grip on the wheel tightens. He’s breaking the law, he knows this. His car is going way faster than he’d ever tried to push it. “I’m pulling up to his house now. I just- I needed to know what you thought of this; I needed you to tell me I hadn’t just fucked everything up.” Osamu doesn’t know. 

The fact that he has no idea is sending him into a spiral. He’s done with hiding, done with allowing his brother to just push him away. This complacency he’d grown accustomed to was tiring and disastrous, and he didn’t care anymore what that scrub wanted, Osamu was going to get him to talk. 

“Please stay on the phone, I need to yell at that idiot when ya see him.” Kiyoomi hums, he can hear the rapid series of clicks and other motions before he hears the slamming of a car door and the running footsteps of Kiyoomi flying through his brother’s apartment complex. “Do you know where he lives? His apartment is on-” 

“On the 4th floor, 3rd room down on the left. I know.” Sakusa practically chokes into the phone. Osamu is taken aback. The image he’d had of Atsumu in his brain was quickly becoming blurry in a way it had never been before, and it made him lightheaded. When had Atsumu and Sakusa become friends?

Osamu should be telling Sakusa to leave his brother alone; he should be yelling at Sakusa for denying his brother, because Osamu knows that Atsumu feels things like this too strongly, and during things like this the only person he would want would be him and maybe Suna, but something keeps his mouth shut. Maybe it’s the bad feeling, or maybe it's the fact that he’s slowly realizing his brother might’ve moved on without him, and he doesn’t want to confront the idea that Sakusa might actually be the one his brother wants to see and not him. 

His thoughts are drowned out by the rapid knocking of a fist against metal as Kiyoomi tries to knock down Atsumu’s door. “Atsumu! Please come out here! I’m sorry!” There’s silence before Kiyoomi tries to bludgeon the door again. Osamu feels the only thing keeping him from losing it is Suna’s death grip on his hand. 

While Kiyoomi screams through the speaker on Suna’s phone, Osamu hears his phone ring, he doesn’t look away from the road. Instead, he lets Suna lift his phone. He barely registers the name that leaves his mouth. “Kita?” He watches out of the corner of his eye as Suna picks up the phone, putting his own phone in the cup holder. 

There's a moment filled only with the banging of Kiyoomi’s fist before Suna talks like he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him. “You what?” Osamu doesn’t want to know; he doesn’t want to hear what Kita has to say because his mind is already too preoccupied with trying to listen for Atsumu’s drunk and sleepy voice.

Suna doesn’t give him that peace. “Kita and Aran received packages filled with Atsumu’s stuff. Apparently they got some of Atsumu’s blankets and two of his high school yearbooks.” Osamu feels dizzy.

Kiyoomi yells three more times before cursing under his breath. “Fuck that idiot,” he hears rustling before he hears the sounds of a key being pushed into a lock. “He gave me a key, so I think I have a right to use it.” Osamu can’t ask, he’s too overwhelmed with Suna talking with Kita and trying to hear any sign that his brother had made it back safely to wonder why in the hell Sakusa had a key to his brother’s apartment. 

The sounds of Kiyoomi’s footsteps stop too harshly, too quickly. He hears a sharp inhale and then what sounds like a death rattle. “Is Atsumu moving?” Sakusa asks quietly. 

Osamu wants to scream.

He hears Kiyoomi stutter for a moment before racing through the home again. “ATSUMU!!” He doesn’t hear a response as Kiyoomi breaks open doors, and he can hear his breath quickening to a pace Osamu didn’t know was human. “He’s not here, holy fuck he’s not here. All of his stuff is packed up too.” He hears the man rush over to a box before he hears a rapid series of cursing. “Each box has our names on them, and- oh god.” he can hear the audible sound as a hand covers Kiyoomi’s mouth.

“Sakusa!!” Osamu screams. “Sakusa, what is happening?! Where is my brother?!”

“There’re letters. Holy shit, there are so many fucking letters.” He hears the sound of the phone tumbling to the table before a notification appears on Suna’s phone for a FaceTime. He nearly hangs up the call in his effort to click accept. When he does, he sees a disheveled Sakusa dressed in a black turtleneck holding a ripped envelope and a letter in his hands. He sees his eyes moving over the letter rapidly before his head starts to shake. “No god, fuck no, this can’t be happening right now.” 

Osamu doesn’t need to ask; he knows, but his body burns like he was being crucified. This couldn’t be happening; his brother wouldn’t do that, not his brother, the one who thought he was god's gift to volleyball, not the brother who smiled like he was a walking ball of sunshine. Not Atsumu. His foot pushes the pedal all the way to the floor. No matter how fast he pushes the car, he’s still at least 50 minutes away.

“Call Atsumu Kita! I need you to call Atsumu right fucking now!” Suna demands over the phone, a strong wobble breaking through his voice as he tries not to allow the panic to overwhelm him. He watches as Kita hangs up and Suna begins rushing through their other contacts, typing out quick and shaky messages.

Kiyoomi looks like he’s going to hurl as he sets the letter down, his eyes rushing over all the others. “I’m opening yours.” He says, not waiting for permission. Osamu doesn’t think he has it in him to speak; it’s taking everything in him not to burst into tears as is, and even then he can taste the blood in his mouth as he bites down on the inside of his cheek.

He can only slightly see Kiyoomi sifting through whatever he’d opened before he pulled out one large sheet. His face pales almost instantly. “He has a will?” Osamu gags; he can no longer stop the tears from sliding down his face. This couldn’t be happening. How could this be happening?

“Suna, do you have Bokuto’s number?” Kiyoomi asks, his voice urgent, edged with something sharp and commanding. 

“I-I think so, yeah. I think I picked it up after Atsumu got sick a couple years ago.” He nods, grabbing his phone and sifting through numbers until he finds one. Osamu is suddenly extremely thankful for Suna’s presence, because he knew he’d never have been able to pull himself together to do much of anything. It was currently taking everything in him not to lose his mind.  He uses Osamu’s phone to dial, it rings, but doesn’t go through. Suna doesn’t wait; he tries again until just one ring before the last, and the call picks up.

“Listen, I don’t know who this is, but it is extremely disrespectful-” Osamu can distinctly tell it’s Akaashi, Bokuto’s long-time boyfriend, who’s speaking groggily into the microphone. He can hear the deep, heavy sounds of snoring off behind him. 

“Akaashi!” Suna yells, worry spilling over violently into his words. 

“Suna? What’s wrong?” He asks, voice quickly matching Suna’s concern as his voice gets closer to the speaker. Kiyoomi speaks, listening in through the shared space.

“I need you to open Bokuto’s messages with Atsumu! He’s the only one Atsumu cared to share his location with.” He speaks quickly, words tumbling out over one another, and Osamu wonders in a numb kind of curiosity when the man had developed actual emotions. 

“Okay,” Akaashi says quickly, the sounds of his fingers tapping against the screen audible through the speaker. “What’s happening? Is Atsumu okay?” He sounds worried, like a mother getting talked to about her son. Osamu thinks back to his mom, wondering if she had any idea about anything that was happening right now. 

“What the-” Akaashi mumbles under his breath, and Osamu doesn’t know if he’s ever felt more overwhelmed in his life. He doesn’t know whether to scream, or cry, or throw himself out of the car. He has no idea what is happening, and yet he knows exactly what is happening, and it’s scaring him worse than anything he’d ever felt in his entire life. “He’s on a bridge.” Osamu’s mind blanks, and suddenly all he can think about is the last words he’s said to his brother.

How could he? What possessed him to say those things to the boy he’d grown up with, the man who meant the most to him in the world? How had he let something as stupid as their fight stop him from being involved, from taking the time to be with his brother? He knew how bad of a situation Atsumu had gotten himself stuck in, and he’d had the nerve to call his brother pathetic. He’d called his little baby brother pathetic. Told him that there was a chance no one would love him. He lets out one broken sob as he places the back of his hand to his mouth. When had he allowed them to distance themselves from one another? When had he been okay with not seeing that stupid piss blonde hair? 

“I'm going now!” He registers the sound of Kiyoomi’s engine roaring under the pressure he applied to the pedal. Then his phone vibrates in Suna’s hand. It’s such a strange sound, so soft and yet so loud in the chaos. Osamu feels it, he just knows that it’s Atsumu. He snatches his phone from Suna’s hand with such haste he nearly drives them off the road. He taps the notification and his heart drops. 

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry in relief at the sight of Atsumu’s name. 

Except when he taps it, it's not a text or responsive sign of life; his hand shakes as he stares at the voicemail sitting in his inbox. Atsumu didn’t usually leave voicemails, not unless he was pulling some stupid prank, yet this one was so long, and that scares him. He can feel Suna’s eyes on the screen as well, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, there is a moment of quiet. 

“I-I…” he stutters, looking up to try to communicate with Suna, who looks equally as terrified as Osamu feels. 

Suna taps the button for him, and a voice so familiar yet so foreign fills his ears. 

“Hey Samu, it’s me, Atsumu. I know ya’re busy right now, probably working at the shop, so I figured I’d leave ya this message so ya don’t forget my voice. Not that I think ya ever could, though I hope you’ll try.”

Osamu can’t stop the shaking of his head, or the constricting of his throat as he begs for the message to stop, begs for Atsumu to start asking for money for a ride, or to meet up, or to tell him he was waiting at the train station for him, but the words that follow are nothing short of world-collapsing. 

He can’t bring himself to stop the message even after the second story about his mom. But he also can’t listen to the rest; he can’t hear what comes at the end of this voicemail. He refuses; he refuses to listen to something so gruesome and cataclysmic. He cannot allow himself to think that he’d been too late. 

He’d not known. That was the worst part of all of this. 

Osamu had always prided himself on the fact that he knew Atsumu the best out of anyone in the world. He used to laugh at others who would say things so objectively wrong in an effort to discredit Atsumu. He thought that the nights they spent in their room, voices quiet as they discussed things that troubled them, were confessionals, a way to bear their souls to each other without judgement. But the longer Osamu listened, the more Atsumu’s voice cracked, and his soft sobs got audibly choked back; Osamu realized he’d failed. He’d never pushed hard enough, he didn’t see the things that were right in front of his face. 

Then suddenly things made sense. Like a filter being removed from his brain, memories started to realign, recoloring themselves without his nostalgia. He remembers now times when he’d leave for Suna's house and come back to find Atsumu tucked into bed hours before he’d normally slept. He always claimed it was because he’d just been bored without someone to bother, but then he realizes his back was always turned away from Osamu, unnaturally still for someone who moved around in their sleep like Atsumu. He remembers all the times they’d gotten into fights, and his mother would side with Osamu like it was clear. He’d figured at the time that he’d always been right; everyone had always told him he’d been right, but looking back, with clear eyes, in some of those fights he had been wrong. He’d sat by and watched as Atsumu was constantly discredited, constantly mocked, and suddenly he felt his body get tingly.

He’d stood by and allowed his brother to get shrouded by shadows that he had made. Osamu had always believed the two were equal, always imagined that they stood on equal ground. But the image in his head was quickly shifting to paint Atsumu as a man who built his confidence on a need to prove himself to anyone who would listen, including Osamu. 

  He begs Sakusa. Voice spilling out like the vomit he was holding inside. 

“Please,” he cries, voice breaking and breathing so rapidly it was making him sick. “Please save him. Please save my brother. Please, I can’t- I can’t do this without him. I-I can’t. Please get to him, oh god please get to him.” He is crying now, his body shaking as his begging can no longer be sustained by the lack of oxygen reaching his lungs. He can barely hear the sounds of Kiyoomi’s soft shuttering breathing, or feel the tight grip that Suna grabs onto Osamu’s arm with. 

He’s not sure when he can no longer take the feeling of rolling bile, or when he hears the sounds of Sakusa’s car screeching to a sudden halt before the sounds of escaping footsteps get swallowed into silence. All he knows is that when he can no longer hear Sakusa, he knows it, knows that there is nothing he can do when he is still so far away.

He clenches his jaw as his body slams into the car door, his car veering off to the side of the road as he seeks steady ground. The car shakes as he rolls off into a grassy bank, and the car is not stopped longer than a second before he’s shoving himself out of his seat and onto the side of the road. 

People honk angrily as they pass, and he can hear Suna screaming from inside the car, asking where Osamu is going, but he just can’t take it anymore. He manages to stumble into the tall grass before he collapses, body shaking as he presses his forehead down against the wet soil, and gets into a position of prayer. He’d never been overtly religious, never felt the need to do anything besides the cultural norms of those around him. Somewhere behind him, he can still hear the distant talking of Atsumu’s voice through the car speakers. 

“God please, anyone anything please, just don’t take my brother. Please, please bring him back, bring him back to me please. I can’t do it without him, I can’t. I need him, I can’t please. Please, bring him back.” He hears Suna as he drops to his knees beside Osamu, wrapping his arms tight around his boyfriend. Osamu can’t stop himself from getting up and tucking himself into Suna’s warm shoulder. He’s shaking; he can’t move, can’t hear, and can’t see. All he can feel is the tightness of Suna’s constricting arms as they hold him tight. 

“Please.”

—-----

Sakusa runs faster than he’d ever run in his life. Never in his life has he ever felt so fast and yet so slow. It felt like running in slow motion, like everything was fake and that somehow he was going nowhere despite the clear pulsing of his legs and the pain in which his muscles constricted around his bones.

All he could picture was the face of Atsumu after their kiss, a moment which felt like hours prior. The smile, his beautiful eyes, the horrible wobble of his lip as he pulled back. Why had Sakusa pulled back? He’d been asking himself that question on repeat ever since he’d watched Atsumu bury himself into the crowd. He’d figured he was running off to the bathroom, so he went to go look for him; he found nothing but the stench of vomit. 

He hears himself over the pounding of blood in his ears. He sounds like a dying animal, his breath coming out in loud huffing mixes between breathing and crying. He can’t stop, though; he cannot allow himself to slow for even a second.

He can’t unsee the words, can’t unread the message meant only for him. 

Sakusa had known he’d loved Atsumu since high school. He never believed it to be possible that those feelings could be returned.

Maybe it was Atsumu’s confidence, or the way he always just seemed to control a room, but there was something about Atsumu Miya that had always made Sakusa curious. He remembers the exact moment he’d fallen. 

It was late at night. Sakusa had been at camp for three days already, and the sound of his loud, obnoxious roommate leaving the room had woken him up. 

Atsumu, before training camp, had been nothing more than a name. Nothing more than an image in a volleyball magazine. Wakatoshi had mentioned the man maybe once in passing, nothing Sakusa really cared to remember honestly because Wakatoshi often mentioned random people within their league, and unless the name came up frequently, Sakusa figured there was no harm in forgetting. 

The one thing that he did know in connection to the name was pride. The overwhelming and superfluous pride that came with being Atsumu Miya. He’d heard it mumbled around camp or in conversations relating to the boy. He was said to have the pride of a god and a mouth as loud as a horn. His insults were for everyone, including his brother, and it made people detest him. 

The problem that Kiyoomi observed through camp, though, was that for as much pride as the man had, and for as much shit as he talked, his sets were nothing short of spectacular. While Kiyoomi would be hesitant to say that his pride was deserved, if anyone were to have it, Sakusa would not be mad that it belonged to a boy as talented as him. No one was capable of saying that his corrections weren’t accurate; they weren’t able to knock him for his playing, so they went for the throat and insulted him as a person. 

Sakusa thought it was stupid, petty drama that they should’ve grown out of in middle school. That wasn’t to say he enjoyed the boy’s presence, but he wasn’t nearly as bad as everyone said. He just rubbed people the wrong way, and as someone who didn’t enjoy actively participating in conversations with others, Sakusa knew what it was like to be judged for having personality differences. 

So over the days, being roommates with Atsumu, which had originally felt like an annoyance, started to feel more manageable. Sure, it was still awkward and Sakusa still internally cursed out the coaches for placing him with anyone other than his cousin, but Atsumu was fine. He was honestly much cleaner than expected, and once Sakusa seemed to give some respect to him on the court, Atsumu was subdued and was honestly more accommodating of Sakusa’s personal wishes than anyone else. He noticed that Atsumu would let Sakusa shower before him, stayed out of the room until he himself was showered, and made sure not to touch Sakusa or his things without a spray of hand sanitizer that Komori had brought in advance. 

He’d never envisioned someone as rambunctious as Atsumu Miya being capable of peace. He’d imagined his life to be something akin to fireworks. Just loud, explosive, and capable of being seen for miles. 

Maybe that was why when the boy snuck out in the middle of the night, Sakusa didn’t just roll over and pull the sheets over himself tighter. Atsumu, while wildly reckless, didn’t seem like the type to just do something as strange as leave in the middle of the night. Even in their short conversations, Sakusa easily gleaned how much this whole training camp meant to him. 

So against his better judgment. Sakusa grabbed his mask and jacket and followed after the blonde. 

The halls of the training camp dorms were eerily quiet, the soft sounds of snoring or midnight grumblings playing behind the doors that lined the halls. The floor beneath his feet creaked quietly under his weight, and every noise louder than a soft snooze sent a chill of shock running down Sakusa’s neck. His hands stayed pressed tight into his pockets, pushing so far inside that he could feel them touch in front of his stomach. 

He walked until he stood in front of the door leading outside. Just behind the door, he could hear something soft. He knew instantly they were sniffles. 

His body went cold as he stopped walking. For as much as Sakusa knew about volleyball, when it came to dealing with people, Sakusa was about as knowledgeable as a toddler in college. He could feel his heart clench at the quiet sounds of sadness from behind the door because he’d never imagined someone like Atsumu, someone who could walk past a group of people talking shit and not give so much as a glance their way, crying. His mind just couldn’t compute what there was to say to him. 

But almost like he was drawn to the sorrow, he pushed open the door anyway and watched as the boy jumped like he’d set off an air horn right behind him, Atsumu’s wide, teary eyes locking with Sakusa’s. He could see as fear set in on Atsumu’s face as he turned away quickly, arms quick to wipe away any traces of the crime Sakusa had walked in on. Neither spoke for a long while, and Sakusa tried to figure out what to say first. He tried to think back on all the conversations he’d had with Komori, but the only thing he could think about was the soft light that the moon casts on Atsumu, making him look smaller than Sakusa had ever thought he could be. 

Eventually he takes a hesitant step forward, watching as Atsumu’s shoulders tighten, his head lowering to hide behind his arms that rested on his pulled-up knees. In one of his hands he could see his phone, still on and casting a dim light across his legs. He moves until he’s beside Atsumu, and while his body screams not to, he takes a seat beside the unmoving boy. He purses his lips, unsure of what to do now. He knew his cousin was much better at this than him, but he couldn’t call his cousin over to solve this like he normally would’ve. Atsumu would just have to make do with what Kiyoomi could offer. 

Long minutes stretch until Sakusa can no longer take it anymore. “Are you okay?” He sounds about as unconfident as he feels, his voice strained like someone had possessed him to say it. Maybe Komori would if he were lucky. 

Atsumu doesn’t answer for a long time, long enough that Sakusa wonders if he was just waiting for him to leave, but eventually he hears a deep sigh. “I don’t know.” The words are more of an admission to himself than to Sakusa, but the answer is enough to know it clearly wasn’t good. 

Sakusa nods, looking out at the camp that lay in front of them. In the dark, it looked eerie, like it was abandoned. He could hear bugs buzzing in the dark around him, and that made the hair on his arms stick up like he’d been struck by lightning. He wanted nothing more than to leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the blonde. It was probably his curiosity in learning about how the man ticked, but whatever it was kept his bottom glued to the floor. 

“Did I wake ya, Sakusa?” Atsumu asks quietly, voice muffled behind his arms. Sakusa swallows hard. 

“No, I just noticed you were gone,” he lies. Atsumu’s head moves in a way that makes Sakusa think he was trying to nod. Another long silence. “Do you…wanna talk about it?” He asks, glancing over to the man who now held his phone like it was trying to run away from him. 

“It’s nothin’” Atsumu says half-heartedly. Neither of them believed it. 

Sakusa nods. “I noticed your brother isn’t here; did he not make it?” The jolt that runs through Atsumu is visible even from the side of Sakusa’s view. He must’ve gotten it right. 

“He didn’t.” He admits quietly. Sakusa nods again. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Komori hadn’t made it, so to have your own very twin, the one who he’d spent his whole volleyball career with, not make it, well, Sakusa could see how that would upset someone. He just never expected that to be something that upset Atsumu. “We’ve never been separated this long.” 

Sakusa hums; he shifts his legs so he can sit more comfortably. 

“I thought he’d miss me.” Sakusa realizes now the reason for him holding the phone as tight as he did. The small metal device was the only connection to his brother, and he would bet that if he could see the screen, the messages would all be blue. 

He feels his chest tighten for the boy beside him. He didn’t understand what it was like to be close to your siblings; his siblings were older, out of the house, and successful. They barely had time for him, so he was used to averaging 10 conversations a year with them, but if he couldn’t message Komori, then maybe he could imagine feeling something similar to Atsumu. 

“I just- I don’t know. I guess I feel a bit silly.” Sakusa nods thoughtfully. It was silly. In his mind, it was very silly. But something about this didn’t feel like it was the kind of silly he’d associate with Atsumu; this felt more anxious, much too worried to be a problem of Atsumu Miya’s. 

“It’s not silly,” he lies again. If Komori saw him now, he could only imagine the stupid shit-eating grin that would appear on his face. Kiyoomi silently is thankful for his lack of presence. “It’s understandable that you’d miss your brother.”

Atsumu gently raises his head, his eyes glancing over at Sakusa. He feels his breath catch a little at the sight of those brown eyes, doe-like and watery. He looked like something out of a K-drama. Sakusa suddenly feels an uncomfortable warmth settle on the back of his neck. 

“Why are you out here?” he asks, as if realizing Sakusa could’ve ignored his disappearance entirely. Sakusa doesn’t know what to say because the truth is he doesn’t know. He’s wildly uncomfortable in every aspect, from the topic of conversation to the way his eyes are making him feel to the fear that runs through him at the sound of any bug that flies by his ear. He has no idea why he’s decided to torture himself for a guy whom he’d only cared to know about for a couple of days, but whatever it was refused to let him move. 

He shrugs, forcing his eyes away from the other, feeling put off by their eye contact. “I don’t know.” Atsumu’s gaze lingers on the man for a while, the soft sounds of cicadas the backdrop to Sakusa’s sudden humiliation. 

Atsumu eventually looks away, bringing the phone back up to his face. Sakusa’s suspicions are confirmed when he sneaks a glance at the screen. “He’s with his boyfriend.” Atsumu mumbles. “Tonight he’s with his boyfriend and tomorrow my mom will probably take him out for the day.” Sakusa can hear the palpable discomfort that fills Atsumu’s mouth when he says mom, like he was trying to force the title onto a stranger. The longer he was out here, the more of an anomaly Atsumu Miya became to him. “I don’t understand how I have time to remember about him when I should be so consumed with a need to be training.” 

Sakusa feels like they’re slowly tiptoeing past anything he’s capable of handling properly. He doesn’t know how to comfort someone dealing with something so important to them. He doesn’t want to accidentally make it worse. 

“I’m sure he misses you.” He says without really thinking about it. Atsumu’s eyes once again flicker to him. This time, Sakusa allows him to hold his eye contact. “I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten you; I don’t think it’d be possible to forget someone like you.” The widening of Atsumu’s eyes alerts him to what he’d just let slip, and suddenly his nails are digging into his palms as his skin crawls with discomfort. Atsumu’s eyes run over Kiyoomi, as if trying to discern if this was a nasty joke or not. He must’ve passed because Atsumu gave him a small smile. Something in Kiyoomi’s chest flutters because this wasn’t a cocky smile; this was something genuine and precious. He internally berates his body for responding the way it does. He hadn’t meant to say something like that, but the subtle relaxing of Atsumu’s shoulders makes Sakusa blank. 

He lets out one more soft sniffle before turning quickly, blinking rapidly as the tears disappear from his eyes.

“Thanks, Omi. I worry I don’t mean as much to him, you know.” Sakusa nods. 

“With the way the two of you work on the court? I can tell you both care about each other deeply.” he was repeating something he’d heard Wakatoshi say once, one of the only things he’d bothered to remember. He was grateful for that man’s careless ramblings now. “It takes a close relationship to switch things up on the court like you two.” 

Atsumu finally seems to release whatever he’d been holding within him, his body sagging in relief. Sakusa feels himself relax as well; he felt like he’d just come out of war. 

“Thanks.” He smiles again, this time wiping his tears fully with his wrists before taking in a deep, shaky breath. “You’re not as bad as I thought, Omi.” Despite the annoyance that usually came with the nickname, Kiyoomi felt his lips curl into a small smile behind his mask. He hoped it didn’t show. 

“Of course I am. Now let’s get back before someone catches us.” He says, standing quickly as whatever spell had been put on him disappears. He absentmindedly extends his hand out for Atsumu to grab; Atsumu’s eyes widen at the action. 

“I haven’t sanitized." he says softly. His big brown eyes meet Sakusa’s again, and somehow that stops him from pulling his hand back in utter disgust. Sakusa just gently flexes his fingers, trying to prompt Atsumu to move faster before Sakusa’s body had time to realize what he was doing. 

Atsumu’s hand is warm in his, sliding across his palm with a careful slowness Sakusa didn’t expect from the man. He lets his fingers wrap around Atsumu’s hand before he pulls the other up. When Atsumu gets to his feet, they both hesitate to release; Sakusa’s body wasn’t screaming; it wasn’t feeling like bugs were crawling over him. Atsumu’s hand, despite being rough from years of work, felt nice in his own. 

His eyes rush over Atsumu again, and he catches a slight warmth to his brown eyes he hadn’t noticed before, something honey colored and vibrant. He thought it was fairly pretty, actually. 

Atsumu is the first to pull away, eyes darting to the floor like he was trying to chase something with his eyes. “Thank you, let's get going.” Sakusa nods, slowly pushing his hand back into his jacket pocket before following the blonde into the building again. He was surprised that the silence felt oddly comfortable that night. He never breathed a word of that night to anyone, not even Komori, and by the looks of it, Atsumu hadn’t either. He just popped back in a way Sakusa hadn’t realized until the next day when Atsumu was moving with an energy he hadn’t had before. 

Kiyoomi wasn’t sure what it was about that night that changed his perception of Atsumu Miya so significantly. Maybe it was the silence, or the tears, or the genuine fear that trembled through his voice. But it was like seeing someone for the first time, and Sakusa was genuinely interested in learning more. 

So even after that week at training camp, he would be lying if he hadn’t at least distantly kept track of Atsumu Miya. He watched his every victory and was disappointed by his every loss. He found himself genuinely intrigued by the boy. Of course, at the time he hadn’t realized from where this intrigue had come from; he’d believed it initially to have been born of competition, maybe even sympathy.

But it was only when he’d joined the black jackals and saw the confident man in front of him, the one who finally learned to take care of his hair and had legs cut from marble, that he realized that his interest hadn’t just come from a want to play with the man, but a want to know the man deeper, even past just knowing who he was.

He’d thought that this past year had been his big break. The two had finally started hanging out; he got to know him through the shows they watched, through the late nights they spent baking, to the one night he’d accidentally fallen asleep on Atsumu’s couch. Every little thing he saw and learned left him wanting more. He wanted to know what Atsumu liked, what made him smile, what he liked to cook, and how he enjoyed his coffee. He wanted to know what inspired him to play volleyball, what left him as motivated and hardworking as he was. 

He wanted to know how he managed to care so deeply for so many people, how he just knew how to step in and protect those around him, like how he made sure Bokuto didn’t get into a mood while playing, taking the chance to learn from Akkashi how to care for the man when they hung out, or how he managed to ease Hinta’s pregame jitters with a hug that looked like it was made of clouds. He even stood up for Kiyoomi, because for all the work in therapy and during college that Kiyoomi had gone through in an effort to get better at his crowd tolerance, he still found himself easily overwhelmed by the reporters who needed to follow them. 

He wasn’t sure if it was just abundantly obvious based on his face or if Atsumu just had a second sense for when his teammates were in trouble, but during those times Atsumu runs in, letting a hand hover just over Sakusa’s back without actually touching him. He puts on a smile that manages to dazzle everyone, even Sakusa himself, and he talks. He talks with such an alluring confidence that all the attention seems to zero in on him, and it’s only then that he softly taps Sakusa’s back as if signaling him to move. Only then can he slip away from the demanding faces while Atsumu speaks quickly, answering as many questions as he can until Sakusa is safe in the locker rooms. 

Neither said anything to each other about those moments; no one mentioned the small things that Atsumu just knew to do on instinct. He just did them, and everyone appreciated it with a distant affection. 

Now he wondered if that was a mistake. 

Not in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined that the man with gorgeous honey brown eyes would ever want him back. Yet he’d ruined it, maybe forever, and if he didn’t run as his life depended on it, he’d never get the chance to rectify his mistake and show the man who loved everyone that he was loved. 

He freezes when he finally catches sight of Atsumu. The man is crying; he can hear it even from a distance. A soft, agonizing cry. Kiyoomi doesn’t dare breathe; Atsumu is too close to the edge for him to mess anything up. So he ignores the urge to run, and instead walks. He steps on the exterior of his feet, hoping not to make a sound. The closer he gets, the louder the cries. He can see now the empty can of alcohol thrown behind him, and the pair of shoes forgotten and tossed aside. A phone sits broken and lonely among the wreckage. 

A part of him can’t believe this to be real. The man sitting on the ledge one he’d always imagined to be the living embodiment of perseverance. A man who never seemed down, never let something get to him; he felt everything with a multiplier and still managed to come out smiling. He couldn’t have ever imagined that tonight would’ve been the night he’d see him staring down at the water like it was singing to him a siren’s song. 

This was never something he’d imagined when he puzzled about Atsumu, and he wondered if he’d ever really understood him in the ways that mattered. He hoped that if given the chance, he could do so. He would finally learn about the man that had grabbed his interest all those years ago. 

“Atsumu.” His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, but it’s enough in the silence of the night. Atsumu turns quickly, his body jolting just like it had all those years ago; he was even on the receiving end of those bright, teary eyes again. His hands tighten on the edge of the bridge that he sat on, his eyes wide with panic and shock. 

“Omi? What- what are you doing here?” He can hear the escalating panic in his voice. Kiyoomi can feel his heart pound in his chest, as fear makes his hands shakily raise in front of him. He feels like he’s surrendering, but he has no other way to try and show his good intentions.

“I came for you,” he says softly. Atsumu blinks a couple of times, looking between Kiyoomi, the river below, and the shoes. His mouth opens and closes as he clearly tries to think of a way to get Kiyoomi to leave.

“Listen, Sakusa, it’s not- this isn’t-” Despite his clear attempts to get Sakusa to drop his concern, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the edge. Something about that made Sakusa’s stomach drop; even after being caught, he was still trying to find a way to go through with it and was still seeking a way to disappear. Sakusa wouldn’t let that happen, not if he had anything to say about it.

“I was worried and wanted to apologize for what I did.” This seems to snap his attention to Kiyoomi long enough for him to take a few more steps closer. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I promise, I just- didn’t want that to be our first kiss.” Atsumu blinks like he was seeing a hallucination.

“You…You followed me to tell me you’re sorry?” He asks with a hint of honest disbelief. Sakusa nods. 

“Yeah. I did.” he glances at the spot next to Atsumu. “Do you mind if I sit with you for a little bit?” He asks gently. He watches as the warmth that had seeped into Atsumu's eyes was quickly replaced with fear. 

“It’s late Omi; you shouldn’t be out here.” He says softly, a fear much beyond what Kiyoomi could comprehend seeping into his tone. Sakusa could literally see his body shaking with a need to escape. He inhaled a shaky breath. 

“Neither should you. I’ll leave if you come with me. We still have to finish this season of love is blind, right?” He asks with a slight laugh. “I could make us some popcorn.” His voice feels like a car losing tires, and he feels the tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. He wished nothing more than for Atsumu to just get off that stupid ledge. 

Atsumu hesitates before shaking his head. “I need to do this, Omi. I can’t-” he lets out a strangled sob as tears sparkle in his eyes. Even in this situation, in his panic and fear, Sakusa can’t help but admire the man in front of him for his almost ethereal beauty. “I can’t keep hurting people and getting away with it.” 

Sakusa hesitates before looking at the space beside him. “Can I at least sit with you?” Atsumu stares at him, his face lost like a child. After a moment, he nodded slowly. 

“Okay.” He says so softly the wind nearly carried the words away from him. Sakusa feels like he was given a little space to breathe as he lowers his hands and walks over slowly. He doesn’t take a seat next to Atsumu; instead he lets his body lean against the ledge. Now he could see the angle Atsumu had been staring at so intently. It was beautiful, dark water illuminated by the moon, trees and forestry leaning over and yet leaving a pathway open for the moon to make its entrance. Under any other circumstances, Kiyoomi would’ve wished to observe the view in silence with Atsumu if only to spend time with the man, but instead he needed to break his trance. 

They’re quiet; Atsumu’s body is once again tight, his body leaning away from Kiyoomi ever so slightly. In the hand that doesn’t hold onto the ledge, Sakusa can see another can. It terrifies him to wonder how close Atsumu had gotten to the bottom before he’d arrived. 

“Why’d you run?” He asks softly, glancing over at the blonde. He can see the way Atsumu purposely avoids his eyes in an effort to stay focused on anything else. Kiyoomi refuses, demanding his attention with a soft yet loud inhale. Atsumu’s eyes meet him slowly. 

“Ya didn’t enjoy the kiss. I’m sorry for pushin’ ya into that. I just… had to.” Sakusa lets a shudder run through his body as he realizes that Atsumu kissing him was part of his plan to exit. He doesn’t like that at all; he needed the kiss to be the reason he stayed, be the reason he needed more. 

Sakusa shakes his head, feeling the sweat cool over his body with the soft sway of the breeze. “Don’t apologize. I enjoyed it.” Atsumu’s body freezes for a second as he looks over at Sakusa. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t need to; Sakusa can see the disbelief all over him. “I was just a bit shocked; I’d expected our first kiss to be on the couch while we watched love is blind or something. I thought I was going to have to be the one to make the first move.” He says, letting a smile force its way onto his face as he tries to give off the impression of being calm despite the fact that his body was screaming at him to yank Atsumu away from the edge. 

“You didn’t hate it?” Atsumu asks as if he were expecting to be laughed at. And to his credit, Sakusa does let out a strangled laugh, one that would’ve been much more carefree given another setting. 

“No, Atsumu, I didn’t. I told you, I enjoyed it deeply.” Atsumu breathes heavily before ripping his eyes away from Sakusa, his hand tightening around his drink. Sakusa watches as he takes another long sip. When he sets the cup down, Sakusa lets his head tilt, the concern beginning to bleed through his attempt at a calming expression. He hoped that Atsumu couldn’t hear the pounding of his heart in his chest. “What’s going on?” He asks quietly. Atsumu can only shoot him a glance for a few seconds before he turns back to the water, focusing on it as if it could give him answers. 

“I just… I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending like I’m okay with not being someone I should be.” 

Sakusa doesn’t try to ask why, he just sits quietly until Atsumu feels the need to keep talking like he often did. It was something he liked to do to play with him normally, let the silence bait him into talking. Now he needed it to push for the real reason for this whole thing. 

“I’ve never been a good person,” he says, his voice splitting. “I’m a selfish person, I make trouble for literally everyone around me, and-” his voice breaks, his eyes flushing with tears as if a dam had broken down. “And I finally think it’s time I made everyone’s lives easier. Especially Samu’s.” Sakusa can’t help the tightening of his jaw. Osamu hadn’t said anything that’d made it seem like he was mad at Atsumu; in fact, everything had told him that Osamu needed Atsumu more than anyone else, so when and where had this idea been planted? 

“What makes you think you’re making our lives easier by not being in it?” He asks, feeling his shoulders pin together, slowly inching up to rest by his ears as he feels like something is grabbing his shoulders. He hopes his tone conveys just how much disbelief he feels. Atsumu may be the one person he’d never believe to be useless. His sets were perfect, his team motivation was nothing short of invigorating, he knew how to cook, and his laugh was something that always brought a smile to his face, he gave some of the best hugs Kiyoomi had the pleasure of receiving; he was gentle and quiet when needed and yet also brave enough to know when something had to be said. Atsumu was everything Kiyoomi loved, and yet here he was. 

Atsumu looks down at his drink, eyes blinking rapidly. “I haven’t talked to Osamu in a year.” He says, like the statement is the signature on his death warrant. “My last words to him were that I hated him.” Sakusa stares at the man. 

Osamu never said anything on the phone, but suddenly his remark about Mei made sense. Suddenly Sakusa felt so much more unsure of what he was doing, like the deep end he’d been in not even a minute before had opened up into an ocean. Komori, despite being in a weird fling with Osamu and Suna, never said anything about it at all. 

“I just-” His voice breaks as he releases the ledge, something that somehow spikes Sakusa's blood pressure even higher, his hand wiping at his face delicately. “I keep hurting people. I was a nightmare in high school, I couldn't seem to do anything right, and now I don’t think I have a family to go to anymore.” He sounds breathless, his words feeling like shackles around his feet, ones that Sakusa was seeing for the first time. 

“What about your mom?” Sakusa mistakenly asks, the look of pure despair that arrives on Atsumu’s face is nothing short of heart-wrenching. 

“She’s never loved me. I’ve always been one big mistake, even since I was born.”  Sakusa wants to scream no as he can feel himself losing control over the situation. This was not the thing to talk about. His throat constricts as he hears himself forcing air into his lungs. 

“I don’t agree,” he says finally, enough to warrant a look from Atsumu. He doesn’t let him deny it. “You never let me talk back at the bar.” He says, turning his body so he was fully facing Atsumu. “I don’t think you’re a mistake; in fact, I think you’re one of the best people I’ve been lucky enough to meet.” 

Atsumu looks at his eyes, examining him for lies. Sakusa knows he finds none because he’d never been more honest than now. There was no room for lying this time.

“Do you remember the night you first came to my house? It was raining, and dark, and you came not because I asked, but because you knew through my texts alone that I missed Komori and needed someone to be with.” Sakusa can hear his voice break, can hear the emotions breaking past his usual reserved demeanor. This whole night had been a huge mistake, and he wished he could start it all over.

Atsumu doesn’t move, but Kiyoomi can see his hand clenching around the edge like he was second-guessing. 

“I’d never let anyone in my apartment before that. I didn’t think I’d ever want to. But then you showed up out of the blue, with my favorite umeboshi onigiri and-” He hesitates before giving a weak smile. “And I knew I just couldn’t turn you away. That look on your face was so kind. No one had ever looked at me that way.”

Atsumu blinked as if he’d never realized that moment could’ve meant so much to someone. 

“But, all I did was bring you onigiri-”

“You also brought me company, you made me laugh, you got me to start watching shows with you.” Sakusa hesitates, gently moving his hand forward until it covers Atsumu’s hand. “I don’t have many friends, and while I now love the Jackals, at the time I wasn’t sure I was even the type they’d want to be around. You actually listened to me. And you have no idea how much that meant to me.” 

He looks up and meets Atsumu’s enraptured eyes. 

“I knew I’d fallen in love with you then. Or I guess I knew that I wanted our relationship to become love, but you’d just gotten out of a relationship with that girl, so I didn’t think it was the right time.” Atsumu turns his full body towards Sakusa now, his body shaking with withheld sobs. 

“You don’t want me Omi. I do nothing but hurt people.” Atsumu’s voice is that of a broken man. It scares Kiyoomi more than anything he’d ever experienced. “I haven’t talked to Osamu in a year. I told him I hated him.” His voice breaks, and Sakusa realizes that if he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t called Komori, then he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to be here, not when it mattered most. 

He wasn’t going to waste this chance. 

“Listen, I talked to Osamu,” he says softly, and he can feel Atsumu’s hand shake under his grip; he lets his thumb gently run over Atsumu’s warm skin. “He isn’t mad at you. Not at all; he wants to see you. He’s on the way here now.” Atsumu shakes his head viciously, like this was a lie he couldn’t believe. 

“No, no, he doesn’t. He can’t. Not after what I said.” Kiyoomi puts out a hand, extending it just within Atsumu’s reach. 

“He does. Atsumu, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a man more afraid in my life than I heard your brother tonight. I don’t care what you said, and frankly, I don’t think he cares either. You two are brothers, I don’t think he could ever not miss you, and if you leave now, you’ll deprive him of the chance to be able to make things right. Do you think he could live with that?” 

There’s a long pause, one so long that Kiyoomi worries he’s about to witness something he’ll never forget. But after an agonizing silence, he watches as Atsumu’s hand shakily takes his, interlocking their fingers. He can’t help but let out a breath of relief. 

They talk for a while longer, Atsumu just letting things spill, little things that had rolled into large issues, things people said that stuck with him, his relationship with Mei including things he wasn’t sure anyone else knew, and his mother’s abuse that he’d hidden. While Sakusa was glad it had gotten Atsumu to spill his issues, it also made him realize just how much he’d missed and for how long Atsumu had been lying to everyone in his life. It scared him to think he’d been this unaware. 

It has to be a long while later before Atsumu stops talking, tears slowing as he lets in shaky breaths. Sakusa is quick to take this chance. “How about you come home? I’ll make dinner, and we can keep talking. Your brother will also be coming, because I don’t think anything could stop him at this point.” Atsumu’s jaw clenches as he looks between Sakusa and the river, but eventually he nods. He waits until Atsumu has pulled both legs over the edge before he grabs his hand tight and wraps his arms around Atsumu in a hug so tight he’s almost worried he’ll crush him. 

Sakusa has never felt such relief like this. He’s never felt his muscles relax all at once like they do when he feels Atsumu’s warm arms wrap around his, and feels his hands gripping at the back of his shirt. He doesn’t realize he’s actually crying until his body is shaking against Atsumu’s. He quickly tucks his face into the small of Atsumu’s neck as he finally lets all the nerves and adrenaline slowly release through soft cries.

Atsumu breaks immediately at the sound of Sakusa crying in his ear, loud, devastated sobs echoing through the forest, months of built-up seclusion and secrecy spilling out in seconds. Sakusa can only hold him, wrapping his hands tight around the man, afraid that if he were to let go, Atsumu would disappear forever, and Sakusa can’t do that. He can’t imagine a world in which the blonde does not exist. 

He’s not sure how long they stand there, crying together until both of them slowly become sniveling messes. It’s only once Sakusa realizes just how cold it is outside that he finally pulls away, letting his hands slide down Atsumu’s arms until he clasps onto one of his hands. Atsumu looks at him with nervousness, sending one short glance behind him back towards the river before he slowly walks back. Sakusa refuses to release his hand, instead walking with Atsumu as he quietly picks up his phone, shoes, and trash, removing all visible traces that he had ever been here, and something about that makes Sakusa antsy to get away.

“I don’t have any money for a cab,” Atsumu says softly. “I kinda gave it all away before I left.” Sakusa ignores the curdling of his stomach as he quickly begins tugging him away from the bridge. 

“I brought my car, so you don’t need to worry about it.” Atsumu nods as they walk down the road slowly. 

The air is so thick Sakusa feels like he’s choking. So he tries his best to stay focused on the warmth that spreads from his hand to Atsumu’s. 

“How did you figure out where I was?” Of course Atsumu had to ask the last question he probably ever wanted to answer, but Kiyoomi’s body is so jittery with a need to leave that he finds his mouth opening anyway. 

“I got Bokuto to give me your location.” He says. Atsumu hums, and Sakusa can tell that he’d clearly forgotten he’d shared his location with the white-haired man at all. Sakusa silently thanks the universe for this fact. 

They walk a few more minutes before Atsumu speaks again. “Why did you come after me?” His voice isn’t louder than a whisper, and yet the question feels all too loud. 

His hand squeezes Atsumu’s tight. “Because I didn’t mean to push you away, and I couldn’t let you go to sleep thinking I didn’t return your feelings. You didn’t stick around long enough for me to get my head around anything that was happening.” Atsumu feels his face burn red with embarrassment. “I accidentally told your brother, but can we pretend like that wasn’t our first kiss?” Atsumu looks over at him cautiously. Kiyoomi tries not to let his face get too warm as he continues. “I kind of had a plan for the perfect kiss. So please just give me some time to do this right.” Atsumu can’t help but grow a small smile as he nods gently. 

“Okay. I’ll be waiting then.” Something about that sentence relaxes Kiyoomi, and yet it still prompts tears, albeit they come from relief. 

His car appears before long, headlights still beaming, door wide open. Kiyoomi dreads the idea of bugs having gotten into his car. He feels Atsumu’s body slow, his hand gripping Kiyoomi’s harder. His wide eyes tell Kiyoomi he’d not expected to see such a vivid example of how desperate he’d been to get to Atsumu. 

They walked slowly, but even from afar they could hear the echoing of Sakusa’s car speakers blaring. They could hear the loud beeping of not only Sakusa’s car but what had to have been Osamu’s own car on the other end. Even from afar, they could also pick up the distant sounds of Osamu’s loud, haunting sobs. Hearing it feels like a punch to the gut, but he watches as it twists Atsumu’s face into something ghostly. 

Kiyoomi is quick to take his phone off speaker, his hand snatching the phone as quick as a snap. But he can see the damage it’s done as Atsumu’s lip wobbles threateningly again, his body hunching in on itself. Kiyoomi takes a shallow breath as he opens the door of his car. 

“Take a seat, I’ll let him know you’re okay. Do you want him to-” 

“Yes.” He almost begs, his watery eyes meeting Kiyoomi’s, wide and terror-filled. “Please tell him I want to see him.” Kiyoomi nods, watching as Atsumu ducks into his passenger seat and buckles in. Kiyoomi closes his driver's side door as well in hopes of making the lights in his car turn off and muffling some of the conversation he’s going to have. He wanders away from the car, making sure to keep it in view before he brings the speaker close to his mouth. 

“Osamu! Suna!” He half yells, cringing at the sheer volume of his voice compared to the silence of the road. He doesn’t hear the crying stop, and it takes a few more calls before he hears the crying stop violently, before he hears his name being called back. 

“Sakusa? Is Atsumu okay? Please tell me my brother's aliv-” Osamu chokes on his words, voice breaking as if he couldn’t bear to even speak the possibility of an alternative into existence. 

“He’s okay. I got to him in time.” The sound that follows is nothing short of cathartic. Strong, violent sobs broken only by scrambled words that only sound vaguely like thank you. He hears Suna’s soft, relief-filled cries as well, much quieter but equally as heartbreaking. “Take your time in coming here, but please come. I don’t know what was said between the two of you, but I can promise you he regrets it. He wants you here.” 

He hears a quick okay, the other two taking more time to thank him before hanging up, promising that they would be there soon. Kiyoomi takes a shuddering breath as he’s left in the silence. He wants nothing more than to collapse on the floor, but he knows he can’t do that, so he settles for the alternative. 

Komori’s phone rings for maybe three seconds before he picks up. 

“Kiyoomi? Is everything okay? Is Atsumu alright?” He was tired of holding in everything, so when he opens his mouth it’s not words that spill out, it’s helpless weeping. He can hear Komori’s breath suck into his lungs fast and tight. “Oh shit, are you okay?” 

Kiyoomi shakes his head; he doesn’t care that his cousin can’t see him; he just needs him to talk. His cousin was always good at comforting people. “Please just tell me about your day.” His cousin talks and doesn’t complain; he doesn’t ask why. Kiyoomi’s grateful for the moment of reprieve. He lets him talk for a few minutes before he can pull himself together. 

“Thank you, Komori.” 

“Of course, Kiyoomi. Now is everything okay?” He asks cautiously, not wanting to start another round of crying. 

“I hope so.” He says quietly. “I think things will get better now.” Komori hums a reaffirming sound. “I’m sorry for waking you up, Komori. Things are okay now, so get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Alright, Kiyo, take care of yourself. Have a good night.” And he hangs up. Kiyoomi feels better now and ready for the ride back. He walks back and tucks himself into the driver’s seat, watching as Atsumu turns his face away as he enters to wipe off his face. Kiyoomi doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t need to. 

“Your brother’s on the way; he should be there in a bit.” Atsumu nods, swallowing hard as he takes a deep breath. 

“Thank you, Kiyoomi.” Sakusa nods slightly. He puts the car into drive a minute later and lets the sounds of his engine occupy the air. The air in the car feels oppressively overwhelming, physically pressing against Kiyoomi’s chest in a way that made him worry that he sounded like he was wheezing rather than breathing. To his side, Atsumu stared out the window, motionless and calm. He hears small sniffles, and he’s sure Atsumu is crying, but Kiyoomi figured a moment of silence would feel better than him constantly overwhelming him. 

They’re nearly halfway home when Atsumu grabs his phone from his pocket. Kiyoomi watched in silence as he held the power button, the screen flashing a small apple before his lock screen of Osamu and him goofing around appeared. It took only a moment for his phone to release a horrific sound as waves of messages came through. He must’ve had his phone off for a while because Kiyoomi was almost sure those messages were from Kita and Aran, and from the looks of it, maybe even others from their old high school team. 

He hears Atsumu inhale sharply before small whimpering cries escape him. He put a hand to his mouth in an effort to muffle the sounds, but he couldn’t stop them fully. Kiyoomi turned on the radio and made sure it was loud enough that Atsumu could have the closest thing he could get to privacy in a situation like this. He watched as Atsumu silenced his phone before typing out quick messages to those who’d called him.

After a while, though, the questions get too loud in his head, and he needs to ask them before he drives himself crazy. He gently turns down the music and lets his gaze drift over to Atsumu once they come to a stop at a light. 

“How long?” He asks softly. He doesn’t want to know, but he feels like he needs to. Atsumu stares off into the distance, eyes trying to will the light to turn green. He has no such luck. 

“A year,” he says. Sakusa blinks as if he’d misheard. Like somehow he’d missed the only words spoken in the silent car. But the longer he sits with it, the clearer it is in his head. A whole year. So much time that Atsumu had been planning something like this. No one had noticed. Then suddenly things became clear. The need to binge shows, the uptick in his effort, and time spent with the team. It all started a year ago, a little before Mei had broken it off with him. He’d been living with this date in his head for a whole year, and Sakusa hadn’t noticed it until it was almost finished. 

His breathing must’ve quickened because Atsumu’s head lowered like a dog getting yelled at. Sakusa can’t get himself to stop, though, because the more Atsumu spoke, the more he realized just how close he’d gotten to losing him. 

“Is that why you gave me your fox plush?” Atsumu doesn’t respond, but Kiyoomi knows the answer. He clenches his jaw, hands tightening around the steering wheel. “I’ll be giving that back to you, and I’ll tell Hinata and Bokuto to return your things as well.” Atsumu just nods. 

When they finally pull into his apartment complex, the two of them sit quietly in the car for a little while, both unable to move and incapable of speaking. Eventually, though, Sakusa moves to leave the car, and almost as if unpaused, Atsumu follows. 

As they shuffle in silence all the way up the stairs and to his apartment, Kiyoomi wonders what to do now. He was glad to have gotten Atsumu off the ledge, but now they were stuck in silence until Osamu got there. Kiyoomi opens the door without having to unlock it, and if Atsumu is concerned about the fact that his door was unlocked at all, he doesn’t mention anything. Something that does shock them both, though, is the sounds of movement from inside the apartment. 

Sakusa moves slowly, afraid that he’d accidentally let someone into Atsumu’s home, but the head that pokes out from around the corner isn’t some scary intruder, but instead a wobbly-lipped Bokuto, one with puffy eyes and a tear-streaked face. 

Sakusa notes the disheveled appearance of Bokuto quietly; his hair was half up, half drooping, and he was clearly wearing pajamas, so he must’ve been in bed when they called. Sakusa is glad to see him, though, glad that he wasn’t alone with Atsumu while they waited, no matter how wrong that felt. 

“Bo?” Atsumu asked quietly. Kiyoomi watched Atsumu’s eyes flicker to Sakusa for a moment, almost as if checking to see if he was also surprised. The action is enough to set Bokuto off, his body shooting forward like a bullet. 

“Tsum- Tsum!!” Bokuto yells, scooping up Atsumu into his arms like the man weighed nothing. Sakusa watches quietly as Atsumu’s shocked expression quickly weakens into his own pouting cry before he buries his face into Bokuto’s shoulder, arms wrapping tight around the white-haired man. 

“Bo.” He says quietly, softening into Bokuto’s arms. The two men don’t move, both too busy crying into one another to notice Akaashi, who steps out from behind the wall that hides Atsumu’s living room. He holds an open box in his hands, and it suddenly hits Sakusa that there were empty and collapsed boxes leaning against the edge of the table. Sakusa’s chest softens at the look of relief on Akaashi’s expression. 

Akaashi also looks quite messy compared to his normal attire. He at least had the decency to put on a jacket over top of his clothes instead of just wearing a T-shirt and striped pants like Bokuto. 

Sakusa doesn’t bother waiting for Bokuto to notice him; instead, he walks in and examines the work they’d done. Most, if not all, the boxes were open with various amounts of their contents missing. “I came over the moment you guys hung up. Once Bokuto found out it had something to do with Atsumu, he’d insisted on coming.” He looked around the room. “He wasn’t planning on moving, was he?” The words are spoken in sadness.  

Sakusa doesn’t speak, just shakes his head. Akaashi nods, looking down at the box in his hands. 

“I thought so.” There’s a pause. “I didn’t get the chance to stop Bokuto from reading his letter.” That explained the teary expression and the way Bokuto refused to release Atsumu behind them. Even now, Bokuto still held Atsumu in his arms like he was afraid he was going to disintegrate, his hands cradling Atsumu’s head like he was the most precious being in the world. 

“Thank you for unpacking; Osamu and Sunarin should be here soon.” Akaashi hums, turning back to his box. Sakusa goes to help him, letting the two have their moment together. Sakusa knew Bokuto loved Atsumu; they were the oldest of the rookie group, and even months after Hinata and Sakusa had joined the group, the two still felt much closer than they did to anyone else. 

Sakusa rearranged the things already put out and organized boxes into rooms. He tried his best to remember what it had looked like the last time he’d been here. It helped time pass by. As the two worked, Kiyoomi heard the soft whispering from the front room, catching bits and pieces of the conversation. 

“Why didn’t you talk to me, Tsum? I could’ve been there for you, you know me and Akaashi always want you around.” He heard the muted sniffling hum that came out of Atsumu. 

“I just didn’t want to bother you guys. I cause everyone enough trouble-” 

“Don’t say that. You’re the teammate I have the most fun with. I don’t know what the team would be like without you. I mean we would never find a setter as perfect as you.” That really pulled something out of Atsumu, the man hunching forward before Bokuto wrapped himself around Atsumu like a blanket. 

After a while, Bokuto stood up with Atsumu beside him. “Tsum-Tsum and I are going to get some ice cream, does anyone want anything?” Sakusa can’t help the involuntary tightening of his chest. He didn’t want Atsumu to leave his sight again, but one glance at the arm wrapped tight around his body told Sakusa he could let himself relax for a little. 

“I’ll have a mint ice cream, please,” Sakusa says quietly. Bokuto doesn’t even try to crack his normal toothpaste joke, which unsettles Sakusa more than he’d thought. 

“Chocolate, please Bo.” Bokuto nods before tightening his hand lovingly around Atsumu. The blonde lets a small smile waft onto his face as Bokuto hums something nonsensical before dragging the both of them out of the door. 

There’s a moment of pause before Akaashi asks. “Do you know how long he’d been planning all of this?”  He looks around the empty apartment with a look of distant fear.

Sakusa lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “A year.” 

The silence is loud between the two of them. He can hear Akaashi’s heart rate increase. 

“I’m glad you got to him in time.” is all he can manage. Sakusa doesn’t blame him. The two find they’ve tired of speaking and get back to working. It’s not perfect; Sakusa can barely remember what Atsumu’s apartment looked like because they frequented Sakusa’s more often than Atsumu’s, but he felt proud of what he could remember. 

Sakusa jumps at the sound of the front door slamming open. Akaashi’s neck simultaneously looked to the door to find Osamu and Suna, both looked disheveled with red, puffy eyes and messy hair. They scan the room before locking eyes with Sakusa. 

“Where is my brother, Sakusa? Please, I need ta see him.” Osamu half-demands, half-begs, even as he speaks; Sakusa watches him fight the urge to run past the duo and to the back of the apartment. Sakusa glances at Akaashi, who has a sympathetic look on his face. Sakusa places the box in his hands down as he walks over to the two, trying his best to look as calm as possible. 

“Bokuto took him out for a walk and some ice cream. He looked like he needed some fresh air, I don’t think he wanted to watch us unpack.” Osamu blinks as if finally recalling the fact that all of Atsumu’s things were all prepared for shipping. He takes a shaky breath. 

“Bokuto is with him?” He asks quietly. Sakusa nods.

“He’s… aware of what’s happening, so I think he's trying to cheer both of them up in his own way.” Osamu jostles his head as if trying to nod but also trying his best to hype himself up. Sakusa can tell just by looking at Osamu that he was running on emotional fumes.

Sakusa gently bobs his head to the side, guiding the two of them inside. Except when he tries to get them to sit, Osamu shakes his head. 

“I can’t…” he hesitates like he doesn’t know what is preventing him from moving; the only thing he seems to realize is that he just knows he can’t sit. “Can I help unpack?” Sakusa nods slightly. 

“Yeah, you can help us with these boxes.” Osamu is quick to grab a box, rustling through it with robotic motions. Sakusa can hear him breathing heavily as if trying to stop himself from crying all over again. Suna works beside him quietly, as if shocked into silence. Sakusa can see Akaashi watching the duo, and he doesn’t need to see his expression to know that this was a bad idea. 

With every object, every newly revealed possession, Osamu seems to take an emotional blow. Kiyoomi can’t get himself to move as he watches Osamu settle over a box, slowly sinking to the ground as his rapid searching through the cardboard box slows into fast blinking and slow observations of ordinary things. Sakusa observes the wobbling of Osamu’s lip and a prompt grimace as he holds a trophy; it looks old, similar to ones children received in elementary school. While Kiyoomi can’t fully understand why Atsumu would still have something like that, he can clearly see the damage it’s doing in real time to his poor brother. His free hand shakes as he places it over the lower half of his face, making his hand look more like some kind of gate or mask, one holding back the overwhelming sobs Kiyoomi had only distantly heard over the phone. He suddenly feels so much worse for even agreeing to let Osamu help. 

“How about food?” Akaashi says softly, walking over and gently placing a hand on Osamu’s back. Kiyoomi lets out a breath, as he feels his body relax all at once, released from his trance. “I’m sure Atsumu has yet to eat tonight, and if he was even half as drunk as Bokuto, then I think food would be more beneficial than a few extra hands in some boxes.” Osamu pulls himself out of the box with a look of relief so palpable it almost made Sakusa let out a soft sigh. He nods softly, gently setting the trophy back down on top of all the other items. 

“Yeah, okay. I can do that.” He walks off to the kitchen with Suna practically attached to his hip. Sakusa was glad to see him go; the anxiety that he exuded was doing nothing but making the atmosphere feel heavy. 

It’s not long before the scent of something delicious fills the house, only accompanied by the sounds of sizzling and soft, uncovered sobbing. Kiyoomi tries his best to ignore the tugging that pulls at his heart as he keeps his lips pursed and eyes away from his phone. He wants to call or text Bokuto and ask for his location; he wants to tell him that he needs updates on everything they’re doing, or when they’re planning to be back, or what is taking them so long. He wants to know if Atsumu is okay, if he’s crying or if he’s saying anything he hadn’t told Sakusa. He just wants to know. He craves it because he can no longer allow himself to be unaware. But he doesn’t text. He doesn’t push himself into an already delicate situation because while Sakusa had gotten lucky back at their training camp and on the bridge, he didn’t know what he was doing, and while Bokuto wasn’t someone Sakusa considered to be a genius, he could give Bokuto the credit of being more emotionally aware than he was. 

It was in this situation that Bokuto may be the best solution, not Kiyoomi, no matter how much that killed him to admit. So he tried to refocus, tried desperately to keep his mind off the man who looked just like Atsumu in the room over and instead worked quietly to piece back together a life that never should’ve been questioned or dismantled.