Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Miya residence is one of the oldest homes in the summerlands, situated at the corner of a woodland forest and the various farm fields growing native crops. The house is ancient but not without charm; chipped paint and dusty window panes don’t overshadow the picturesque image of white shutters, lush flower beds, and handsome brick walls. 

Atsumu hasn’t been back home for over a year. And as he gets intimately acquainted with the side wall of his old house, Atsumu notes that the estate was in considerably less sturdy condition than the last time he had been there. 

“Atsumu, this is dangerous! You’re going to fall. Get down from there,” Sakusa hisses, neck craned upward to watch as Atsumu scaled the side of the crumbling stone wall, clutching stray branches of ivy like a lifeline. 

“Live a little, Omi-Omi!” Atsumu calls back, edging his foot on a stone brick.  “I’ve done this a million times before, don’t even worry about it.” 

It isn’t a lie. He and Osamu had carefully arranged this piece of wall outside of their bedroom window to function as a makeshift ladder for when they would sneak out at night as young boys. Over the years, however, the bricks had deteriorated and the thick ivy branches had shriveled with age, leaving Atsumu hanging for dear life plastered against the cool surface of the wall. 

Somehow, he makes it up the entirety of the wall and manages to open the window, heaving himself up and tumbling to the floor of his childhood room. He pops his head out the window instantly, grinning down at Sakusa, still glaring from below on the ground. Atsumu feels extremely proud of himself for getting through all that with only a few unmanly shrieks, and gloating to Sakusa fills him with even more delight. 

“Alright, now it’s your turn,” Atsumu says, beckoning to Sakusa. 

“I don’t have a death wish, Atsumu,” Sakusa replies, crossing his arms obstinately. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks, you priss!” 

Atsumu leans out the window until his entire torso is hanging off the end, thrusting an arm out in Sakusa’s direction.

 “Here, grab onto my hand,” he offers, wiggling his fingers. 

Surprisingly, Sakusa does without another complaint, and Atsumu lifts him up as much as he can. 

“And… upsy-daisy,” he says cheerily. Once Sakusa reaches a stable position against the wall, Atsumu leans back and tucks his hand into his chin, content to watch Sakusa squirm. “Wow, you’re really bad at this, huh?” 

“Don’t patronize me, Atsumu,” Sakusa grumbles, fisting a curling stalk of ivy that snaps in his hand immediately. Sakusa attempts for the third time to find a stable brick to move his feet onto, and it catches. Atsumu grins in delight as seeing the relief flood over Sakusa’s face.

“I’m not! Just, it’s kind of refreshing to have the upper hand with you for once. And you can’t kick me this time!”

“I hate you so much.”

“Sure you do,” Atsumu says lightly. “Now, put your foot in that indent—that’s it, you got it! Good job, Omi-kun.”  

“Stop treating me like a child,” Sakusa mutters. 

“There’s just no winning with you, is there?”

Sakusa finally reaches the top of the wall, his chin just barely lifting over the bottom frame. Atsumu juts his hand out wordlessly, and Sakusa takes it, allowing himself to be pulled over the window and swinging his legs into the room. 

Sakusa dusts his pants off and looks up, eyeing Atsumu’s room warily. Atsumu is suddenly struck by how small and dusty everything is and how Atsumu’s humble farming cottage probably seems shabby and cramped compared to the Itachiyama mansion Sakusa was used to. 

“Wow, it’s a little chilly in here, isn’t it?” Atsumu says hastily, moving around the small space to rearrange trinkets on the shelves and clean up stray papers and tea cups littered about. “I’ll get the fireplace lit, you can go ahead and get into bed. I know you’re probably exhausted, Who knew you’d be so terrible at climbing?” 

He looks back at Sakusa, expecting to see a typical scowl of irritation. Instead, Sakusa is thoughtfully taking in his surroundings, his eyes flitting from the bookshelf on the right to the two identical, neatly made beds lining the wall. When Sakusa gravitates towards the couple of Miya family portraits leaning against the antique fireplace mantle, Atsumu feels compelled to divert his attention away. 

“Take ‘Samu’s bed," he says, pointing to one of the four-poster beds against the wall. "It’s the one farthest from the window, so it’ll probably be warmer.”

Sakusa nods. “Where are your clothes?” he asks, glancing around the room. 

“My—huh? My what?” Atsumu sputters, befuddled by Sakusa's question. 

“Clothes, Atsumu," Sakusa repeats, sounding impatient. "I’m not sleeping in my dress coat. Do you have a wardrobe in here or something so I can find some night clothes?”

“Oh. Right.” Atsumu blinks. He didn't think about that. He gestures to the large wardrobe collecting dust in the far corner of the room. “They’re in there. Night shirts should be in the second to last drawer on the right.”

Sakusa nods again, making his way over to the wardrobe. When he finds something suitable and begins to unbutton his waistcoat, Atsumu frantically spins back around to the fireplace, face heating as he tries to stop himself from listening to the sound of fabric rustling as Sakusa changes into Atsumu's clothes.

Sakusa is wearing Atsumu's clothes. It sounds like something from his dreams and yet here he is in reality, drinking in the sight of Sakusa Kiyoomi adjusting Atsumu's old nightshirt around his broad shoulders, plucking at the silk with pale, slender fingers. 

Atsumu goes through his bedtime routine in record time, practically jumping under the covers to avoid gawking at Sakusa any longer. When he finally thinks he's safe, head tucked into the pillow, he feels the other side of his duvet lift up and a weight dip the edge of the bed. Sakusa hums softly as gets comfortable under the covers, close enough to Atsumu that he could feel Sakusa's body heat. 

“Omi? Uh—What...What are you doing?” Atsumu squeaks, refusing to turn around and face Sakusa. His body is paralyzed with a nauseating mix of nerves and excitement. 

“You said to get into bed.”

“Uh…” Atsumu trails off, unsure how to organize his cluttered mind when he keeps getting distracted by how close Sakusa’s voice sounds. As if he was whispering into Atsumu’s ear. 

“This is my bed," he says, more of a question than a statement. 

“I’m cold. It’ll be warmer if we share.”

“Oh,” Atsumu says plainly. It isn’t that cold in the room, at least to Atsumu. The fireplace has been roaring for a couple of minutes now, bathing the small space in a toasty glow. And even if they were inside, the summer night air was pleasantly warm. There’s no reason for Sakusa—who grew up with the harshest Itachiyama winters—to be cold right now. 

“Okay, then.”

They drizzle into silence. He hears Sakusa hum softly into his pillow. He can feel the sheets lift and lower slowly with each deep breath Sakusa takes, and tries not to hyperfixate on how lovely and heartbreaking the sensation is. 

Atsumu could have had this. He could have had Sakusa, warm and cozy, snuggled up to him every chilly night in their home if he had gotten his head out of his ass sooner. But now all Atsumu gets is a husband that doesn’t know how fast Atsumu’s heart is pounding from their proximity. Sakusa doesn’t know how longing and desperation and stupid, stupid hope still cling to Atsumu’s insides like stubborn rust on iron. 

And he can never know, Atsumu reminds himself. 

“Stop thinking so loudly, I’m trying to sleep.” Sakusa mumbles, rolling over onto his side underneath the duvet. 

“Sorry,” Atsumu says automatically. 

“It's fine," Sakusa grunts. For a moment both of them lay still, until Sakusa asks, "What do you want to do tomorrow?” 

Atsumu muses over this for a minute, running the various possibilities in his mind. They could window-shop along the stores in the main square. They could have a picnic by the lake at the edge of town and throw seeds to the wild ducks brave enough to beg for food. 

“I can take you to see the parade in the town square,” he finally picks, a smile forming on his face as the idea takes shape. It’s one of the favorite memories from his childhood. Fae would showcase their magic with pretty light shows and colorful flowers, and dance through the streets with humans. 

He turns his head to gauge Saksua’s reaction, barking out a laugh at Sakusa’s revolted grimace. 

“Omi-kun, you don’t have to make that face. We’ll avoid the crowds, I promise. I can take you up to the hill overlooking the city.” Atsumu can picture it almost perfectly—they’ll grab some food and hike up the tiny hill just before the sun goes down, then watch the fae perform until the sky goes dark. 

“It doesn’t sound terrible, I guess,” Sakusa concedes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. 

Atsumu and Sakusa spend most of the morning sneaking out of the Miya’s estate, bickering in low tones and hushed whispers. Luckily, Atsumu knows that around this time of year his parents always visit his mother’s family down south, by the sea. He thinks Sakusa would like it there. Salt air and gentle tides would suit him well. 

They do try to keep quiet so as to not alert any staff that might still be taking care of the estate. One close call comes after Sakusa unceremoniously shoves Atsumu out the window without a warning, simply laughing while Atsumu screams all the way down to the rose bushes. 

“You were taking too long,” Sakus says flatly as Atsumu questioned why the hell he would do that . 

“I was trying not to fall to my death, Omi-kun!” Atsumu wails in response. He gets an eye roll in response, but Sakusa still helps him brush off the remaining leaves on his shoulder with a slightly guilty smile.   

But besides this minor mishap, they make it out unscathed. 

At half-past midday, blue skies and drifting clouds crisp with summer brightness followed Atsumu and Sakusa as they made their way down the main road. Atsumu had planned to circumvent most of the crowd waiting for the parade for Sakusa’s sake, but in order to reach the best lookout points up on the hills, they needed to take the central path that began in the middle of the town square. 

Festival music and children’s laughter floated through the air, and lively groups of Inarizaki locals mulled about the square, chatting to one another and stopping at various booths that had taken up shop along the main road. Atsumu found himself humming along to some of the fae songs that street musicians were playing, and basking in the merriment of the festivities. Even Sakusa’s eyes brightened with curiosity as he stared at the rows of glowing paper lanterns adorning the roof of each booth, illuminated with the familiar blue light of fae magic. 

“You like it?” Atsumu asked, nudging Sakusa’s elbow. “The fae are pretty generous with magic in these urban parts. Of course, it’s not like it’s that hard to cast spells to make glowing lights and such.”

“So magic is common here? I’ve never seen anything like it. Everything seems like it’s… glowing. And alive.” 

“Well, that might be the magic in the air, for sure. But people are just happy here, you know. And it’s a festival! You can practically feel the excitement.” 

Sakusa hums thoughtfully, not tearing his gaze away from the color and movement around them. Atsumu frowns, a sudden worry building in his mind. 

“It’s not too overwhelming for you, is it? Big crowd, loud noises...” He tries to dissect the far-away look on Sakusa’s face with little success before Sakusa shakes his head. 

“Maybe if we were here for a while, I would get irritated by it. But it’s nice to be here just for a little bit.” Sakusa’s eyes flit to Atsumu, showing a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The sight causes something warm to pulse in Atsumu’s chest, and he grins back easily. 

“It suits you, you know,” Sakusa says softly.

“Hm?”

“You home, Inarizaki. When we first came to the border I couldn’t understand what you’d been missing so much. But now that we’re here, in the center of the kingdom, I get it. The sun, the fields, the tingle of magic in the air—it’s mesmerizing.”

Pride swells in Atsumu’s chest. It’s vindicating to know that he’s successfully proven that Inarizaki is the best kingdom on Earth, but there is something softer and deeper that thrums in Atsumu’s heart knowing that Sakusa loves his home just as much as he does. 

“And it all reminds me of you,” Sakusa adds, looking at Atsumu with the most unabashed smile he had ever seen. 

Rivers of emotion wash over Atsumu. He forces himself to look away in fear that he’ll do something stupid. Atsumu doesn’t know what to say that wouldn’t betray the truth of his heart. 

Along the cobblestone path, street vendors shout out to wandering passersby advertising their handmade jewelry, enchanted charms, and fresh fruits for sale. 

Atsumu feels his mouth water. They ate breakfast at a coffeehouse earlier, but he hadn’t eaten authentic Inarizaki cuisine since before he and Sakusa were married. He’s so engrossed in imagining the taste of a simple apple pastry that he startles when Sakusa belts out a laugh. 

“Atsumu, I can practically see your stomach in your eyes. Come on, let’s go buy something.” 

He pulls Atsumu towards the vendor’s booth with an insistent tug on his sleeve. He dips his hand into Atsumu’s bent elbow, all the way down to his wrist, and slips their hands together wordlessly. 

Um…What? 

Atsumu’s brain screeches to a halt when he glances down, blinking slowly at their clasped hands. He jerks his back back to Sakusa, searching for some kind of explanation on his face. But Sakusa’s profile is impassive as ever, and completely oblivious to Atsumu’s crisis. Atsumu wills his every pore on the surface of his palms not to sweat as Sakusa’s grasp tightens, their fingers entangled in a sung, comfortable grip. Suddenly, the heat from the sun feels a million times more overwhelming than it did five minutes ago. 

“And what do you want, Atsumu?”

“Oh, uh, I’ll have an apple hand pie,” mumbles Atsumu.

“An apple hand pie for my husband, then.” 

Atsumu bites his lip. He should probably tell Sakusa that the people here don’t have a clue who he is and there was no need to keep up the pretense that they were married. But his heart whirs softly at being addressed as Sakusa’s husband , and he decides that there was no harm in keeping his mouth shut. 

But then again, Sakusa hadn’t made much of an effort to keep up their charade, not even the day before at the ball. If Atsumu recalls correctly, Sakusa actually insulted him a few times in front of their friends. Had something happened that changed his mind? Atsumu’s memory unhelpfully supplies how Sakusa had crawled into Atsumu’s bed last night, closer to him that Atsumu would have ever thought Atsumu would let him be. 

Atsumu peeks at Sakusa in the corner of his eye. Maybe…

Sakusa releases his hand as pays for their food, passing over a pastry wrapped in thin white paper to Atsumu. He mumbles his thanks, regarding the pie with caution, as if it will grow teeth and bite him if he gets too close. 

“What the hell? It’s so bland,” Sakusa exclaims, grimacing. “You like this shit?”

“Oh, looks like you got the plain kind. Yeah, that one isn’t as sweet. I have apple, which you might like more if you wanna try it but—”

“Hm, let me see,” Sakusa says, then dips his head down to take a bite from Atsumu’s extended hand. 

 Tremors snake from Atsumu’s fingertips, down his arm, straight through his entire torso all the way down to his toes. Blood rushes to his face as he takes in the sight of Sakusa’s lips wrapped around the top of Atsumu’s pastry. 

What. Is. Happening .    

 Nerve buzz underneath his skin, and Atsumu wishes he had a free hand to drag down his face for some kind or relief. Or maybe slap himself out of his own hysteria.

Atsumu hasn’t known Sakusa ( really known him) for very long, but Sakusa didn’t strike him as the kind of person that would casually share food with someone else. Something must be wrong with him. 

“Omi-kun? Are you feeling okay?” Atsumu asks, giving Sakusa a quick once-over to look for any obvious signs of illness. 

“Is the spell sickness coming back? Do—do you need to go lay down?” 

“What the hell are you going on about?” Sakusa bristles and shoots him a weird look. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure? We don’t actually have to stay here, if you don’t want—”

“I want to.”

“Huh?”

Atsumu meets Sakusa’s dark eyes. The steadiness of his gaze could cut through mountains. The clarity, striking and magnetic, is like diving into an icy ocean. Atsumu’s heartbeat shakes his body. 

“I said I want to. Is that so difficult to believe?”   

Atsumu almost laughs. More difficult than Sakusa will ever know. 

But maybe not as difficult as Atsumu is making it out to be, now that he has a moment to dwell on the matter. 

Atsumu takes a look outside of himself.  He sighs and sweeps his gaze over the bustling town and passersby around them. He pries his mind out of the tangled crevices of his thoughts, taking in reality like the first breath of morning. 

Atsumu’s eyes skip from Sakusa’s lips—crumbs still clinging from when he’d tried Atsumu’s food—to his own hands—still warm and tingling from Sakusa’s touch—and finally to the pastry vendor a few paces from them to whom Sakusa had called Atsumu “husband”.

Atsumu has never been on a real date, but he imagines that it would feel something like this.

With how Sakusa has been acting all day, Atsumu’s beginning to wonder if his feelings are unrequited after all. Sakusa being mean to him already fills Atsumu with confusing, mushy feelings. He really doesn’t need Sakusa to start being nice to him and filling him with way more intense, confusing, mushy feelings.

“Let’s start heading up to the hill,” he deflects. “It’s going to get dark soon.” 

Atsumu toys with the idea of confessing. But what was he even supposed to say? He doesn’t know how to express what he felt for Sakusa in a way that didn’t sound cheap, or contrived. 

How about we give this another go, Omi-kun? Marry me, for real this time? 

The very thought of actually spitting out something that bold sends his stomach lurching. Even with the slightest chance that Sakusa might feel something for Atsumu, salvaging their marriage is asking too much. But for Atsumu, the idea of being tied to Sakusa for forever, in a connection deeper than he’s ever had with another person, is starting to sound dangerously appealing. 

It’s a cruel, hopeless love. But it’s consuming him all the same. 

They chase the sun all the way to the top of the hill, watching as it dips over rolling fields and rooftops and paints them golden. 

Beneath them, the parade passes by like a river of color. Children dance, blue wisps of magic burst from the fingertips of fae, and the sound of laughter and singing floats upwards to Atsumu and Sakusa’s spot atop the hillside. 

Atsumu has seen enough Festival of Light parades in his life, so he spends his time studying Sakusa instead. As the sky fades to the pulsing blue of evening, Sakusa glows brighter. His eyes could be fallen fragments from the night sky, inky black and lit with a fiery intensity that rivaled the light of stars. The thought makes Atsumu turn his head away, filled with a yearning so profound it scares him. 

"What's wrong?"

"Hm?"

Atsumu registers the downturn quirk of Sakusa’s lips with a surge of alarm. When Sakusa shifts away and digs a toe into the grass, Atsumu’s stomach sinks further. 

"Normally I would celebrate over the fact that you haven’t said a word in the last half hour, but it’s starting to scare me. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, no, of course not!” Atsumu reassures him. Guilt grips his insides like cold fingers. It’s just like Atsumu, to be so concerned with what he wants that he neglects the people around him. 

“You haven't done anything wrong, Omi-kun, why would you even say something like that?" He chuckles nervously, and even Atsumu doesn't buy his own denial. 

Sakusa levels him, eyes flashing. "Then why are you acting so strange?"

Atsumu deflates. In reality, it had been ridiculous to think he could get away with not talking about it. 

"It's just…" Atsumu bites his lip, not knowing how to phrase ‘you're flirting with me and it's driving me insane’.

“It’s just… you’re being so nice all of a sudden. It’s kinda freaking me out.” 

“Would you rather I punched you or something?” Sakusa deadpans, rolling his eyes. 

Yes , Atsumu screamed in his mind. Anything that can stop me from building up this false hope. From crafting the absurd lie that you might actually want me. 

“Just wondering why you suddenly had a change of heart and no longer want to murder in my sleep.”

“A lot of things have changed since we came here, Atsumu.” Sakusa’s attention flicks to him briefly before passing back to the view of the town. “At least, I hope they have for you too,” he adds, softer. 

In the distance, bursts of blue light fizzle into the air as unconventional fireworks, painting the dusky clouds with pops of vibrant color. Mixed with fading streaks of pink and peach dashing across the horizon, the whole image bathes the hilltop in a pastel glow. Eyes flickering to Sakusa, Atusmu admires how the skyline delicately traces the tips of Sakusa’s curls—a crown of magic and sunset.  

It was the perfect backdrop for a dramatic, earth-shattering confession of love. 

A restless, itching ache crawls over Atsumu. 

“There’s something I have to tell you. I feel like I might explode if I never get it out.” 

The words tumble past his tongue before he can even think to stop them. There’s a brief moment where Sakusa says nothing, and Atsumu rejoices in imagining he had only said it in his head. But then Sakusa lifts his face and his stomach tightens. 

“What is it, Atsumu?”

He wets his lips. Swallows. His mouth is impossibly dry. But he refuses to tear his gaze away from Sakusa, meeting his eyes while strings of tension snap inside his chest. 

“Omi, I want—”

Atsumu cuts himself off when a sudden chill overtakes him. The air stiffens around them. 

He feels the magic before he sees it. The crackle of electricity in the air causes hairs on his arms to raise in panic, and he catches Sakusa’s features corkscrewing in fear and pain before he doubles over, groaning in agony. 

“Omi?”

Blue light like lightning coils across Sakusa’s limbs, bathing his skin in an unnatural, otherworldly glow. 

That hasn’t happened before. 

“Shit,” Atsumu gasps, rushing forward to catch Sakusa as his knees buckle and give out. 

"Atsumu," Sakusa whines, clutching at the lapels of his shirt. Atsumu pulls Sakusa to his chest, terror clamping his insides. Atsumu sinks them down to the damp earth, pulse hammering in his ears. 

"Oh, fuck. Omi-kun!" Atsumu yells, his voice chafing his throat, threaded with concern. His hands flutter hesitantly over Sakusa, feeling him shudder and shake. Sakusa had told him a long time ago that the spell sickness had caused him to collapse, but he’d never seen it happen in person till now. 

The sight made his blood roil. 

"What do you want me to do? Should I go get help? Do you feel like you're going to throw up again?"

"It’s another spell of dizziness. I feel faint. Shit, my vision is swimming," slurs Sakusa. His brow shines with sweat, his skin cold as steel. Atsumu can feel his breathing shorten as his head lolls unsteadily on Atsumus’s chest.

"It's okay, Omi," he whispers into Sakusa's curls. "You're gonna be fine. I’m right here." 

He gulps, desperation overriding all of his thoughts as he grips Sakusa closer to him. Atsumu pets Sakusa’s hair in a pathetic attempt to comfort him, but he has no clue how to fix this. Trimmed with guilt, Atsumu squeezes his eyes shut. 

Sakusa's harsh breathing events out and his body becomes pliant. He must have passed out.  

Atsumu’s eyes peel open and he looks out at the setting sun with dread and sorrow, holding Sakusa close to him. Muddled, ruddy red of the setting sun smears the world around them. Atsumu feels foolish for thinking that the sight was romantic. 

He’d lost sight of what they came here for in the first place—to get this wretched spell broken. If Atsumu hadn’t been deluding himself into believing that maybe he and Sakusa could have been falling in love again, he could have prevented Sakusa from getting hurt. 

“Please hang on, Omi-kun,” he whispers desperately. “Please don’t leave me.” 

Heart seared by shame, Atsumu risks a glance at Sakusa’s limp hand resting in the grass.

His ring is a dull and simple band, dark as the shadows of evening. 

Atsumu suddenly sees himself in full clarity, like his face is in full dimension from a flash of lightning. Selfish, fanciful, too caught up in his own feelings to think about the risk of Sakusa’s own life. 

Of course something like this would happen. Of course Atsumu would forget that his heart is poison, and everytime he let someone get close he would only end up hurting them. 

Sakusa’s breath is shallow against his shoulder. When he reaches down to graze his fingers across the back of Sakusa’s hand, his skin is cold and clammy. It was a fool’s mistake to think they could have been good for each other. 

Atsumu will not make that mistake again. 

Hauling Sakusa’s limp body on his back all the way to Miya’s Bakery and Bed was a lot easier than working up the courage to knock on his brother’s door. 

Osamu’s narrowed eyes pin Atsumu in place on the other side of the doorstep, expression guarded. Atsumu swallows back the shame in his throat. 

“‘Samu,” he says lowly, desperation bleeding into his voice. 

Osamu’s gaze slides to Sakusa, currently drooping over Atsumu like a puppet with cut strings. 

“What happened to him?”

“Please don’t ask. Not yet,” Atsumu pleads. Osamu’s lips pinch, judgement washing over his face like  but he says nothing. 

“I’m guessing you want to come inside? There’s a spare bedroom in the back where you two can… do whatever you need to do.” 

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Atsumu says with a grimace. 

Osamu leads him through the house and Atsumu is flooded by a wave of nostalgia. 

He looks around the home and spots trinkets from his childhood. He sees his mother’s favorite flower pot sitting on the dining table and his father’s paintings hanging on every wall. Familiar smells greet him like a friendly touch, a warm hug and crackling fireplace after trudging through a blizzard. He recognizes Osamu’s cinnamon coffee and apple tarts wafting from the kitchen area. 

There’s a portrait of the two of them—barely school age—grinning with Atsumu’s arm wrapped over his brother’s shoulders, from a handsome wooden frame over the fireplace. The image sinks into Atsumu with a heavy pang. He wants to trace his fingertips over the old paint and keep that memory locked in his heart forever. He wants to snatch the painting from its hook and cast it into the fire to burn.  

Eventually, they make it to Osamu’s spare bedroom. Atsumu carefully lays Sakusa over the itchy cotton sheets and tugs a worn quilt over his shivering frame. 

Atsumu spends a few minutes fussing over Sakusa. He unties Sakusa’s laces and fluffs the pillows under his neck with fretful hands. But none of it coaxes Sakusa awake and eventually Atsumu pulls up a chair by the bedside with a sigh. 

“‘M sorry, Omi. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Atsumu says, voice watery, as he slides his palm into Sakusa’s ice cold hand. Atsumu risks a glance at Sakusa’s ring—still dim and lifeless, but it flickers every so often with a pulse of electric blue.  “I won’t let this happen ever again.”  

Atsumu brushes a stray lock of hair away from Sakusa's forehead. His chest rises and falls lightly, each breath soft and wispy like the voice of the sea in a shell. Moonlight falls in stripes across his peaceful face, features slack from sleep. Sakusa sighs softly and Atsumu's eyes can't help but stray to his lips, red and plush and slightly open as he exhales. 

The dim memory of the taste of Sakusa's mouth makes Atsumu's own lips tingle. 

“Are you gonna kiss him or something?”

Atsumu jumps, cheeks flaring with heat. He swivels his head and finds Osamu leaning against the doorway. Osamu snorts, walking into the room and settling against the wall opposite Atsumu. 

“Why the fuck would I want to kiss someone while they’re unconscious,” Atsumu deadpans.

“Don’t know. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing you’ve done.” Osamu juts his chin toward Sakusa's sleeping form. "How long has he been out?"

"A while," Atsumu says with a twinge of anxiety bleeding into his voice. He worries on his bottom lip. "We knew he was sick, but it's never been this bad before. I don't know what it’s supposed to mean."

"You really care about him, don’t you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I know you. I know that look on your face too, 'Tsumu. You're in deep,” Osamu says in a serious, solemn tone that Atsumu has heard only once before in his life. Osamu’s eyes pin him in place with unwavering steadiness. Atsumu feels pulled apart at the seams. 

“I’m sorry for what I said back at the party, ‘Tsumu. I didn't mean it, you know that right? I'm happy for you—married and moved away and everything. And I'm sorry for yelling at you, too. You really pissed me off, though.”

Atsumu hadn’t expected an apology. In fact, he’d expected Osamu to punch him in that face again before he apologized. Atsumu blinks slowly as Osamu’s sorry expression sinks in. There are a thousand different apologies Atsumu needs to give Osamu, and a thousand that he still isn’t sure he’s prepared to give. But here Osamu is, once again, being so much stronger and braver than Atsumu could ever hope to be. 

Atsumu swallows down something sour, tickling his throat. When had Osamu gotten so far ahead of him? Atsumu supposes it was time to play catch up. 

“Yeah,” Atsumu sighs, hollow. He ducks his head toward his shoes, too much of a coward to look Osamu in the eye. “I’m sorry for…everything. I shouldn’t have ignored you and everyone else for so long.”

“Glad you’re not mad at me anymore, then.”

“I was never mad at you, ‘Samu.”

Osamu snorts.

“Well, maybe I was,” Atsumu admits, cringing a little. “But it wasn’t because you did anything wrong. You were racing ahead of me and I couldn’t keep up. I felt left behind.”

Osamu studies him. The silence feels like a ticking clock, speeding up Atsumu’s pulse with each passing beat. He fidgets with the frayed edges of Osamu’s quilt. He remembers using it as a tent in their pretend circus, huddling under it as they hid from their tutor, tying the corners around his neck and running around the manor pretending they could fly. 

Heat bursts at the corners of Atsumu’s eyes unexpectedly. He brushes it away and shakes himself out of the reverie of memories. 

“Maybe it was wrong of me to do all this shit without telling you first, but I wasn’t sure you would be supportive,” Osamu continues. His upper lip twitches. “I mean, I was right, you acted selfish as hell, but I still should have talked it out with you.”

Atsumu’s lips pinch. Regret that has been repressed for over a year bubbles to Atsumu’s surface. He can’t catch back the words as they spill out from his mouth. 

“I shouldn’t have forced you into a position like that in the first place. I put too many expectations on you, forced you into this whole future I had planned for us without even considering if that’s what you want. You’re right, it was selfish. I’m sorry that I never gave you room to grow, and I’m sorry that I hurt you.” 

The ghost of a smile shifts over Osamu’s face, but Atsumu takes it gratefully. Atsumu doesn’t think they’re at a point where he could reach out to Osamu for a hug or anything, not yet, but he’ll take these baby steps with all the grace left in his heart. 

“So. Are you going to tell me?”

A playful lilt peppers Osamu’s tone. Atsumu furrows his brow suspiciously. 

“Tell you what?”

“About whatever the hell is going on with you two.” Osamu waves a hand over Sakusa’s sleeping form. “You do know that it freaked me out a little to see you sobbing on my doorstep with your husband looking like a fucking corpse.”

“I didn’t sob,” Atsumu protests, but Osmau just raises a brow at him.

Nerves creep up like thin fingers up Atsumu’s back. There are secrets and emotions that have been churning within Atsumu for too long and now he’s too close to boiling over. Atsumu sucks in a deep breath. Maybe the problem is the way he’s been keeping everything bottled up for so long. 

“Yeah, about that…”   

Atsumu tells him everything. He tells Osamu about how they arrived at Itachiyama and decided that they hated one another, and how that went on for a whole year before Sakusa got sick. He tells Osamu about how he and Sakusa came to Inarizaki to find Kita and have the spell reversed so that they could finally go their separate ways. He tells Osamu about how he began to develop feelings for Sakusa once they started getting to know each other better, how he wished they would forget about this whole mission and try working on their marriage again. He tells Osamu about Sakusa's spell sickness and his dreams, products of the corrupted magic. 

And when Atsumu finishes, he sags into the wood of his chair like a puff of diminished embers. 

“Wow.”

Osamu’s expression betrays nothing, but Atsumu can see the shock tightening his jaw. Atsumu drums his fingers on the sides of his thighs.

“Yeah.”

Osamu opens his mouth and inhales a deep breath. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he says flatly. 

“What?” Atsumu sits up straight in his seat. “I literally just poured out my whole heart to you and you’re just going to insult me? Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true. Holy shit, ‘Tsumu, just tell him you like him. It’s literally that simple.”

“Did you listen to anything I just said? He’s probably going to die if we don’t get this spell reversed! And once that happens, we won’t be married anymore and he can finally tell me to fuck off.”

Atsumu’s chin wobbles. He feels tears spring at his eyes again and hastily wipes them with the hem of his sleeve. Atsumu has only had these thoughts swirling around his mind since he first came back to Inarizaki, and it’s more overwhelming that he’d imagined to voice them aloud. 

Atsumu, who keeps throwing his heart against the wall and wondering why it bleeds. Atsumu, who’s ruined every single scrap of love that’s been thrown his way. 

“Christ, what’s wrong with saying, hey, maybe we shouldn’t break this spell because I think we could make this thing work, and then you stay together and nobody dies?”

“Because we can’t!” Atsumu hears the shrill screech in his voice. He hears the desperation and sorrow and longing, and stops himself short. Atsumu inhales a shaky, long breath. 

"We can’t fall in love again. It’s literally impossible.”

Atsumu rubs his ring between his thumb and forefinger, but doesn’t look at it. He wonders if the last spark of light had faded from it yet. Has Atsumu already ruined this, too? 

Osamu drags boths hands down his temple, his face a stormcloud. 

“‘Tsumu, I don’t have a lot of experience with this stuff, but I think even a blind person would be able to tell just how gone you are for this guy. Maybe he feels the same way, maybe he doesn’t. But you owe it to the both of you to give it a chance.”

“But it’s not possible for me to love him.”

Atsumu knows he’s been repeating himself, but what else is he supposed to say? He’s seen the effects of the spell firsthand. Atsumu can’t keep clinging to his fantasies of being with Sakusa when he knows how much pain it causes Sakusa with every second they spend still bound together. He can’t be selfish any longer. 

“I don’t know, ‘Tsumu. Haven’t you just spent like half an hour telling me how this spell fucked up and is basically failing? Maybe these new feelings you have are somehow a part of it. Or the reason behind it. And maybe your dreams are just some weird way of the spell trying to bring you two back together. Did you even think about that?”

Atsumu hasn’t. He stills, mind whirring. Atsumu and Sakusa had assumed that since the spell went wrong because they weren’t in love, the only way to heal the broken magic was to sever the spell completely. But could they actually repair it somehow?

Nope. 

Atsumu’s mind firmly rejects that ridiculous idea. Atsumu knows deep down that he is the one that must have fucked up somewhere along the way, and that the best thing he could do for Sakusa was to break their bond once and for all. 

He looks back up at Osamu, doubt shadowing his face. Osamu lets out a frustrated groan. 

“Christ, I left you alone for one night and you managed to cause over a year’s worth of grief for yourself.”

Atsumu shifts in his seat. The last thing he wants is to cause Osamu more grief. But before he can open his mouth to apologize again, Osamu is stalking over. 

Osamu lays his hands on Atsumu’s shoulders and looks him straight in the eye. Atsumu shrinks back, caught off guard. 

“Okay, you just sit right there and let me talk, alright? There’s something I gotta tell you that you need to hear right now.”

Atsumu nods silently, blinking rapidly in confusion and a tiny bit of terror. 

“The way you love someone, ‘Tsumu? It’s all encompassing. It’s ‘stand by my brother’s side for our entire lives with no alternative’ and it’s ‘fall in love with a handsome stranger tonight and be married in the morning’. You give people everything and devote yourself wholeheartedly, and it can be overwhelming. A little too much sometimes.”

Atsumu feels dazed, and a little numb. It burns him deep in his chest to look directly at Osamu, but he forces himself anyway. The cracked place in Atsumu’s heart throbs painfully. 

“And I’m sorry, but I just can’t do the same,” Osamu continues, heavy with remorse. “Not because I don’t love you, dumbass, but I just show it a different way. I’ll drop everything if you need me, ‘Tsumu, but I gotta do my own thing apart from you, too.”

The words strike Atsumus’s heart with the sensation of a grazed wound. Atsumu’s always had the feeling that he was too intense, too much for anyone to handle. And Atsumu knows that Osamu is trying to help him, but having his worst fears confirmed still makes Atsumu’s stomach turn sour. 

“You need to stop giving yourself away just because you feel that’s the only way another person could want you. It’s not healthy. But you also can’t hide yourself away either, which is what you were doing with me when you never wrote me back. It looks like that’s what you’re doing with Sakusa too, by not telling him how you feel.”   

Osamu gives him a meaningful look. All Atsumu can do is pinch his face to keep himself from crying. 

Atsumu opens his mouth to say something, but every thought crumbles before he can grasp the threads. Being confronted with his deepest insecurities is a foreign feeling to Atsumu. But running away from them wasn’t much of an option, either. 

“Atsumu,” comes a soft voice from behind them. 

Atsumu whips his head around fast enough to make him dizzy. He sees Sakusa squirming against the sheets, his eyes squinting open against the dim candlelight. 

“Sounds like it’s time for me to head out,” Osamu whispers next to him. He squeezes Atsumu’s shoulder one last time before letting go, making his way to the doorway.

Osamu tilts his head back just before the threshold, catching Atsumu’s eye. 

“Think about what I told you just now, okay ‘Tsumu? No more hiding from yourself.”

Atsumu nods back, a tremble beginning to overtake his bones. 

“Atsumu,” Sakusa repeats, head lulling against his pillow. 

“Hey there,” Atsumu says, voice scraping his throat, leaning to the side to grab Sakusa a glass of water as he sat up in the bed. “Glad to see you’re alive, Sleepy-Omi.”

Osamu’s aged bed frame whines as Sakusa sits up. He gulps down the water and blinks around blearily, taking in their surroundings. 

“Where are we?”

“My brother’s place. You passed out while we were watching the parade. Another wave of spell-sickness, I think.”

“Shit,” Sakusa mumbles, setting the glass back down on the bedside dresser. “How long have I been out?”

“A couple hours, maybe?” 

Sakusa groans, rubbing both his temples. Atsumu wonders if he still feels some effects of the spell-sickness. But before Atsumu can overanalyze the furrow between Sakusa’s brow or the tightness in his jaw, Sakusa swivels to face Atsumu with wide eyes. 

“Your brother? Atsumu, is he okay with us being here?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu says, looking down. “We talked a bit while you were out. He’s not pissed at me anymore, thankfully.”

“Oh, that’s great. I’m happy for you,” Sakusa says, and it sounds sincere. Some mixture of shame and happiness clatters in Atsumu’s chest, but he musters up a smile. 

“Thanks, Omi-kun. It kinda sucks that you had to get hurt for me to work up the courage to talk to him, though.”

“I feel fine. I promise,” Sakusa scoffs with an eye roll. 

“You really scared me out there.” 

Atsumu can hear the fear dripping from his voice, but he can’t find it within himself to hold it back. 

“Sorry,” Sakusa mutters. His expression darkens, and Atsumu’s stomach lurches. 

“It’s not something you need to apologize for. In fact, I should be sorry. I should have been more aware of how much I was overexerting your energy.”

“Neither of us could have known this was going to happen.” Sakusa protests, gesturing to himself in bed. He leans forward, into Atsumu’s space. “But did you really bring us all the way here for my sake? You were so adamant about not talking to your brother before, why did you change your mind?”

Atsumu barks out a laugh. The list of things he would do for Sakusa contains feats much greater than talking to his brother. 

“I didn’t really have a choice, did I? You were hurt, and this was the only place in the city I could take you that was safe.” 

With the Festival of Light in full swing, Atsumu is positive there wasn’t a single room available in any inn across the kingdom, especially past sunset. If not for Osamu, Atsumu thinks they would have had better luck going all the way back to Itachiyama before they found shelter here. 

He shrugs. “Sure, it was humiliating to beg my brother for help, but you’re more important to me than my ego, Omi-kun.”

Sakusa stares at him for a very long time. Atsumu’s pulse quickens, his breaths going shallow. 

“You’re important to me too,” whispers Sakusa. It’s so quiet, Atsumu would have thought he hallucinated if Sakusa’s lips weren’t moving. He sounds as if he’d been holding those words in for too long and saying them aloud burns his lips. 

Atsumu’s throat feels dry as he swallows. He clears his throat, hoping to dispel the tension that had suddenly overtaken the room. 

"Going soft on me, Omi-kun?"

"And what if I am?"

Sakusa faced Atsumu directly, a febrile brightness in his eyes. Atsumu blinks back stupidly. 

"Huh?"

A vulnerable softness ripples through Sakusa’s features. Atsumu can hear the sound of his heart in his ears. 

"What if I was soft on you, Atsumu? What would you say to that?"

Warning bells and panicked voices chatter in Atsumu’s head, telling him to end this line of conversation before they tread into dangerous territory. A tremor runs from Atsumu’s limbs to his core. 

“Uh—” 

"What were you about to tell me up on the hill?"

Sakusa doesn’t wait for Atsumu to string together even a thread of thought. Atsumu chuckles nervously, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His eyes flicker to the closed door before turning back to Sakusa. 

"Oh, that? It was nothing important, don't even worry about it."

Atsumu is ashamed of lying, ashamed of needing to, but he can’t risk hurting Sakusa any more than he already has.

This is for the best, Atsumu tells himself as he winds barbed wire around his heart. 

"No, I think I'd like to know,” Sakusa continues, tone clipped. “I could have died yesterday, and knowing that has made me realize that I should take a chance on the things I want. Even without this spell, we don’t know how much time we get in our lives. It’s time to make the most of what we have.”  

Not knowing how much time they have is the exact reason that Atsumu can’t tell Sakusa what he wants. There’s something more precious to Atsumu than his own happiness now, and he needs to do whatever he can to protect it. To protect Sakusa. 

"It doesn't matter, anyway Omi-kun. Just forget it."

"I don't think I want to—"

"Omi—"

"--because I'm in love with you, Atsumu." 

Atsumu stops. Half a breath hovers precariously in his chest, warm blood runs cold in his veins. He raises his gaze to Sakusa’s face, terror and traitorous hope warring within him. 

Sakusa’s earnest eyes are like daggers in Atsumu’s heart.

"I love you, Atsumu, and I want to be with you. I don't want to start over as strangers again. I want you by my side for the rest of my life." 

Is he dreaming again? Atsumu fights down the urge to pinch himself. Sakusa sounds more like the version of him from Atsumu’s idiotic daydreams than the surly, guarded man he’s come to love. 

"Omi," he begins, low and cautious. 

Suddenly, there’s Sakusa’s hand covering his own on the edge of the bed. There’s Sakusa’s face barely a breath away from him and pleading eyes boring into his own. 

"You love me too, right? You want me?" 

The question hangs between them like a frozen breath. 

Atsumu’s throat closes up. The contents of his stomach rise to his teeth, bitter and foul. He swallows it down.

“I don't do things half-heartedly, you know. I’m in this for the long run if you’ll have me.”

“Omi-kun.”

Slowly, and with pain that seared his insides, Atsumu extracts his hand from Sakusa’s grip. He feels the lost pressure like an ache in his bones. Flesh and bone and blood scream at him to stop, but his mind whispers the truth. 

Atsumu knew there was no trust in love. But now, he was starting to think maybe he just couldn’t trust in his own heart. 

"Atsumu?" The happiness drains out of Sakusa’s voice. 

“I—we—we can’t,” Atsumu whispers. With his face turned towards the floor, it doesn’t take long for tears to blur Atsumu’s vision. 

Atsumu’s mind is a garbled mix of noise and hopelessness. He can’t trace the path that's gotten him here. He feels trapped in a sinkhole of dread, a winter inside him and a biting chill stripping away at his bones, at his very thoughts. 

"Yes we can, what the hell are you talking about?"

"The spell. We can't love each other. Not anymore."

"Fuck the spell, Atsumu,” Sakusa huffs, shuffling closer. Atsumu jumps away instantly, stumbling to his feet unsteadily. “Tell me what you feel right now. Tell me that you don't want this." 

"It's not that simple,” Atsumu counters, backing away. Sakusa swings his feet over the edge of the bed and chases Atsumu until they’re an arm apart. 

"Yes it is," Sakusa says firmly. 

"Your life is on the line unless we figure a way out of this spell.” 

"I couldn't care less about that.”

Atsumu squeezes his eyes and groans in frustration. This was so, so wrong. It should have been easy for Sakusa to leave Atsumu, to forget all about him as soon as he was out of sight. He’s almost upset at Sakusa for making this so much harder than it has to be. 

Atsumu’s hands clench into fists at his sides.

"But I do," he says honestly. 

Sakusa’s eyes darken. Atsumu recognizes the placid frigidity steeling over his face, icy and biting like an Itachiyama snowstorm. 

“Atsumu, either you feel the same way I do, or you don’t.” 

Atsumu took the words like punches. He absorbs every sting and echoing ache until it splinters his insides. 

Atsumu thinks about how a few hours ago, he was ready to tell Sakusa the same thing. He thinks about how he had been convinced that they could forget about their past, about the magic slowly poisoning Sakusa, and somehow recreate the one night they were ever truly happy together. With everything Sakusa has just told him, that dream could almost feel like reality. 

But then he remembers Sakusa’s pained expression as the wave of spell sickness hit him—the hollows of his cheeks in shadow and his eyes glazed over. Atsumu remembers how cold Sakusa’s skin had felt. 

Atsumu hasn’t done anything to be worthy of such unconditional love. 

As Atsumu reaches for the doorknob, he takes one look back at his husband. Witnessing the anguish in Sakusa’s eyes is like getting his heart carved out of his chest. 

And yet, he says nothing as he closes the door behind him. 

It’s a long walk to the sunflower fields, but Atsumu uses the time to quell the stormy sea of emotions raging in his chest. 

This far into the countryside, the air is sweet and dry, and the night is silent. Under the glow of moon and stars, Atsumu can see rolling lowlands of wheat, corn, and hayfields dotted with farmhouses and town clusters. The area he currently wandered through was a patch of sunflowers—some towering as they stretched toward the sky, others newly planted and just barely above his knee. Atsumu sinks into the dewey grass and lets the midnight sounds of insects buzzing and wind shifting through the plants wash over him like a gentle tide. 

Growing up, the farmlands had always felt like a refuge for Atsumu. So far away from the hustle and bustle of Inarizaki’s urban center, the rural countryside offers an escape from life’s pressures and expectations in a way that Atsumu needs. There’s something innately calming about being alone with only your thoughts, surrounded only by crops and the heavy blanket of night air. As he sat in the center of the field and looked up to the sky, it seemed to stretch to the ends of the earth. 

“Ah, Atsumu. I wasn’t aware you had returned home.”

Atsumu’s eyes jump to his side, startled by the sudden voice. 

He takes in the figure standing on the opposite side of the field. Hair as light as the moon above them, slitted golden eyes that shimmered even in the darkness. The man smiles warmly at Atsumu. 

“Kita-san?” Atsumu’s mouth falls open in disbelief. A choked breath rattles his lungs. “What—What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Kita says. He makes his way closer to Atsumu, gliding through the stalks of sunflowers and leaving a trail of cracking blue magic behind him. “I needed a bit of air away from the celebrations. The Festival of Light is in full swing just over those hills. But this is a farmer’s field, not a lively party. why are you here?”

Kita peered down at him curiously. When Atsumu was younger, he’d been convinced that Kita could read minds. Kita’s glowing, fox-like eyes always looked at Atsumu like they could pierce into his very soul and pick apart everything that Atsumu tried to hide from the world. He used to be a bit frightened of the fae king, but soon learned to appreciate his perceptiveness and confided in Kita almost as much as he did his own twin. Kita was not harsh, but fair, and always told Atsumu what would help him grow instead of what would comfort him. 

“I just feel so confused,” Atsumu says, strangled. He heaves in a breath but can’t stop the first sob. Which is closely followed by a second, and a third. Atsumu swipes at the moisture springing to his eyes, but can’t keep up with the steady stream of tears as they gush forward. 

Kita drops down to his side, sitting cross-legged amongst the grass blades and sunflowers. He lays a palm on Atsumu’s shoulder, steadying him as Atsumu trembles. 

“Tell me,” Kita says, and Atsumu does. 

Surging hills and rising lowlands sloping gently upward are an attentive audience as everything spills past Atsumu’s lips. His sobs and hacking breaths subside as the minutes stretch, and Atsumu’s tears eventually dry out. By the time Atsumu is done recounting the last detail of their journey, he feels like a wrung out dish rag—weary and drained, but strangely calm. Like all the pain and overwhelming distress had been purged from him. 

Kita says nothing the entire time. And when Atsumu finishes, sliding his gaze to gauge a reaction from Kita, he sees nothing but the ever-present expression of serenity on Kita’s face. A quiet curl of Kita’s lips is the only hint of a reaction Atsumu gets.

“You say that you like him, he likes you back, and you’re already married? I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem is that we can’t love each other.” 

Any chance of that happening again was gone forever. Dissolved in a trade of magic. It sends a sour ache churning in Atsumu’s gut to say it aloud.  

“Really? What’s stopping you?”

Atsumu gapes at him. “You did!” 

“I did no such thing,” Kita says firmly. 

Atsumu sputters, his mind fumbling as he tries to make sense of what Kita is saying. 

“Kita-san, we came to Inarizaki to find you. Because you were the one that cast the spell. You were the one that trapped us in this mess and you’re the only one that can get us out. I just want this stupid spell reversed.” 

Atsumu looks at Kita helplessly. He lets all the longing and heartbreak and guilt he’s been feeling since he came to Inarizaki reflect on his face. And then he plucks the ring off from his finger and holds it out in his palm as a testament to everything that had been ruined. Kita gives him a look of sympathy, taking the ring in his own hand and holding it up to the moonlight. 

“I did cast the spell. But I didn’t take away your or Kiyoomi’s ability to love,” Kita says, twirling the ring between his thumb and forefinger. A small pulse of blue emits from Kita’s fingertips, alighting the ring, but the light fades and it does not come back. 

 “I only used the love you two had for one another to bring back Kiyoomi’s life. The love you two had . That doesn’t mean you aren’t able to love each other again, in a different way.”

Thoughts in Atsumu’s head spin and bump into one another like dizzy children. Confusion rushes up Atsumu’s bloodstream and scrambles his brain. He casts his eyes to the perpetual landscape ahead of them, swaying flowers and acres of inky sky, a town asleep at the foothills. 

“I don’t understand.”

“You’ll find that love is quite stubborn. It has a way of growing back, even in the most inexplicable circumstances.

A buzzing rings through Atsumu’s head, a pounding echoes through his blood like sonic waves.  He can barely even force himself to breathe through the tightness around his lungs. 

“But then—if I really do love him, and maybe he loves me too—then why is the spell still not working? Why is Sakusa still getting sick? Why do I have all these memories coming back to me?” 

“That spell is love magic, Atsumu. It'll only work if your love is true, and true love only comes when we fully accept ourselves, along with others. It’s about selfless devotion and our choice to trust another person with the most vulnerable parts of ourselves.” 

Atsumu’s vision blurs with new tears. He startles when something small and cool is pressed into his hands, and Atsumu uncurls his palm to see his wedding ring. Atsumu glances up, catching Kita’s warm, gentle smile. 

“I think you’re holding back, Atsumu. I think you’re purposefully forcing yourself to believe that you can’t love Sakusa because you don’t trust yourself not to ruin it.” 

A lump moves through Atsumu’s throat like a fist. He holds the ring up to his chest, as if he could press it into his heart. 

“Always the one to share the ugly truth, aren’t you, Kita-san?”

“It’s simply the truth. The only reason it hurts you is because you’re ashamed to recognize when you’ve been lying to yourself,” Kita says plainly. His words barely sting with anticipation thrumming through Atsumu as he slowly realizes what he needs to do. 

Kita grins at him, fae eyes glimmering with pride as he helps Atsumu to his feet. He squeezes Atsumu’s shoulder comfortingly, and Atsumu feels a pickle of magic ripple through him. 

“You have a strong heart, Atsumu. One bursting with the desire to love others. It would be a shame to bury it away.” 

Tired hope flutters awake deep in Atsumu’s chest. 

“So? Did you still want me to reverse the spell?” Kita raises a hand and a wispy orb of electric blue threads bursts from his skin. He leans forward, offering it to Atsumu with raised brows, and Atsumu stares at the magic, considering. “Kiyoomi won’t be tied to you any more. You two could go separate ways and live your own lives again.” 

Is that still what Atsumu wants? 

He unfolds his palm and takes another look at the ring in his hands. It’s the same round band of gold, and the light from Kita’s electric blue blossoms of light cast a metallic shine around the edge. 

Maybe it was just a reflection from Kita’s magic, but Atsumu swears he sees a sudden flickering pulse of blue light up the ring, just for a moment. It’s gone before he’s finished blinking, but the sight is burned into Atsumu’s memories. 

He turns his face up to Kita, a smile breaking through his lips. 

“Nah,” he says with his whole heart. “I think I’ll take my chances with what we have now.” 

Atsumu busts through Osamu’s front door like a gust of wind. 

“Omi-kun!”

He frantically looks around the sitting room, but sees no trace of his husband. 

“‘Tsumu? What the hell are you doing here?”

Osamu’s head pops out from the kitchen doorway. Atsumu moves into the house, wild eyes searching for a familiar head of raven curls. 

“Where is Omi-kun, ‘Samu?” Atsumu grips Osamu’s arm and tries to convey his urgency. 

“He left not too long ago. Said he was going to find some way back to Itachiyama,” Osamu says with a shake of his head. “‘Tsumu what is going on with you two? Sakusa gave me this before he stormed out.”  

Osamu pulls a gold wedding band from his front pocket. Atsumu’s eyes bulge and he snatches the ring in an instant. 

“Fuck,” curses Atsumu. He clutches the ring to his chest, his heartbeat like thunder in his ears. “I need to find him before he crosses the border.” 

Atsumu crosses the length of Osamu’s sitting room before he pauses in the doorway and turns back around to his brother. 

Osamu gives him a perplexed look, until Atsumu rushes forward and wraps his arms around his brother’s shoulders. Osamu hugs him back, warm and secure. 

“I love you, ‘Samu. Sorry for being a dick for so long,” mutters Atsumu. He tightens his hand in Osamu’s shirt before letting go. 

“You were a dick. And I love you too,” responds Osamu. He smiles softy, in a way Atsumu hasn’t seen in many years. “Now go, go! Go chase after your not-husband or maybe-husband or whatever! Just get out of here and bring him back for dinner the next time you visit.”

Atsumu nods, and gives Osamu one last punch on the shoulder before sprinting out the door. 

As Atsumu races through the summerlands, the outskirts of town blur past him and the beginnings of a winter breeze twist its damp essence in his hair and wrap coolness around his face. He hopes that Sakusa hadn’t gone too far; it would be more difficult to track him down if Atsumu had to search Inarizaki’s northern port towns. 

After a few minutes of ragged breathing and muscles burning, Atsumu reaches the summerlands’ edge. Here, he can see past the border into the swirling winter on the other side. Gray, cumulus towers filling the horizon and bunches of snow nestled in the grass. 

And shuffling down the frozen road leading from the summerlands’ edge to a wall of bare trees on the other side, was Sakusa. 

Atsumu sees him as if he were the sun, breaking through the night for a new day. Snowflakes hang suspended in the air around him until a sudden chill breeze shakes through the dark curls on his head. Atsumu could almost feel that whip of wind, too, pulling him towards Sakusa. 

Atsumu takes his first step past the edge of the border—lush, green fields suddenly turning to a stiff layer of snow crunching under his feet. He sucks in a breath, the air fresh and wet like early morning. 

“Omi-kun!” Atsumu shouts, his voice barely distinguishable from the roar of the swirling wind around him. Atsumu pushes forward like wading against a strong current. His footsteps trudging through the snow echoes the beating of his heart. 

Sakusa whirls around, squinting at Atsumu struggling towards him. 

“Atsumu?” Sakusa yells back, incredulous. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

“I came to say that I’m sorry for—”

“No. Stop,” Sakusa snaps. He turns away from Atsumu and keeps moving down the road. “I don’t need your apology, Atsumu. Just leave me alone, okay?”

Atsumu digs his heels into the snow, moisture seeping to his feet. 

“I also came to tell you that I love you,” he rushes out. 

That stops Sakusa in his tracks. 

He whips back, cheeks pink and newly flushed. Atsumu’s heart rattles strangely in his chest. 

“That’s not what you said before.”

Atsumu steps forward, a tremor rippling through his knees strong enough to tear at the joints. 

“Because I was scared. I was a coward, and an idiot, and I thought it would hurt less to ignore my feelings than open up my heart to you,” he admits, voice tight as strings. Atsumu’s chin quivers.

Atsumu knows he’s asking a lot of Sakusa to take him back—maybe too much this time. But he knows Sakusa, knows that this man puts the entire intensity of his being into everything he does, and Atsumu craves that ardor more than anything. He wants vows of forever.

“But none of that matters anymore,” he continues. “Because I love you, I’m so in love with you, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”

Feeling bold, Atsumu reaches into his coat pocket for the rings. He pulls them out and holds them up for Sakusa to see, causing Sakusa’s eyes to widen. 

“I found Kita-san. I told him what happened, and he told me he could reverse the spell—”

Sakusa’s bitter laugh makes Atsumu’s chest pull tightly, and threatens to tug out a tear. 

“Atsumu, I don’t want—” 

“And I told him no.” 

Sakusa brow creases. He clenches his jaw as though he was struggling for words. 

“Why?”

“Maybe I like the idea of my soul being bound to yours, Omi. I’m not afraid to break down my barriers, if it’s for you.” He said the words as if he were tasting it, drawing the sound out. 

Atsumu feels a surge of courage overtake him, and drops to one knee.

“Marry me, Omi-kun. I’m wholly and endlessly yours. Every breath in my lungs is yours. Take my hands, take my heart, take the marrow out of my bones, Omi-kun. Take everything from me, because I’m giving it to you freely.”

His legs feel like they might break off from frostbite, but Atsumu stands his ground regardless. As he raises the ring out toward Sakusa, cold gold kisses his skin and sends an unexpected thrill through him. 

Sakusa’s gaze hops between Atsumu’s face and the ring, awash with light reflecting off the snow. After a pause that sends Atsumu’s heart stuttering, he steps forward and takes Atsumu’s hand into his own. 

“I always believed that if I let someone close—let them see the ugliest parts of me—they would run away. But you never did, Atsumu. From the moment you chose to stick by me, to trust me with your deepest thoughts and secrets, I knew you were the only person I ever wanted to be with. I haven't had a steady heartbeat since.”

Sakusa tugs Atsumu’s hand up, and Atsumu scrambles to his feet. Standing face-to-face with Sakusa, Atsumu watches tiny snowflakes collect on his cheeks and eyelashes as he lifts Atsumu’s hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss against it. 

“If you offer all of yourself, I won’t be giving it back,” Sakusa says with a soft exhale. “I'm greedy, you know. I’ll keep you forever.”  

Atsumu moves both his hands to cradle Sakusa’s face. There's a new horizon in Sakusa’s eyes, one that Atsumu wants to chase for eternity

“Forever sounds like a plan.” 

Sakusa surges forward and presses their lips together. Rivers of sensation cascade down Atsumu’s skin as he inhales sharply and slowly kisses Sakusa back. Heat blossoms across Atsumu’s face and blood rushes to the tips of his fingers.

“What’s this Omi-Omi? A kiss? Aren’t we moving a little fast here?”

Atsumu sounds breathless. He noses along the side of Sakusa’s face, pressing another kiss to the jut of his cheekbone.

“You literally just proposed to me. For the second time in your life.”

Atsumu is too keenly aware of the feeling of Sakusa’s exhale on his brow. His veins flood with overwhelming happiness. 

“And I’d do it a million more times if I had to,” Atsumu says, pulling back just enough to look Sakusa in the eye. “I’m serious, you know. If a fucking meteor falls out of the sky right now I’d do it all over again just to be with you. You know that, right?”

He presses further into Sakusa and soaks in his warmth. 

A pale hint of dawn, breaking through the clouds and falling snow, crowns Sakusa’s face. Atsumu’s eyes trace edges softly. 

“I think I’m starting to,” Sakusa whispers, the sound ringing through the air like a song.