Chapter Text
2014, Tokyo.
The locker room is suffocating. Kiyoomi feels like he’s going to choke and die.
Motoya’s sitting next to him, worriedly looking over every five seconds, before back at his phone. Today’s not been a good day; Kiyoomi woke up with his skin buzzing and his heart racing, and he’s been fighting the urge to just curl up and cry all day. Motoya had noticed as soon as they met up for school, but Kiyoomi didn’t want to even acknowledge it right now.
The school day had dragged on, and volleyball practice was the only period of peace Kiyoomi had all day, and now that it was over? His sweat, having been washed away from a brief, frantic shower now clung to his neck again, curls flopping limply in front of his eyes, and his breathing keeps its stilted pace.
“Y’want me to call Aunty?” Motoya whispers, finally breaking the silence of the locker room, and Kiyoomi flinches at the noise. Motoya wants to call his mother, does he want that, does he want to burden his mother from her work and pull her away?
“… Yes, please …”
They’re in the car on the way home only twenty minutes later, Kiyoomi’s head resting on the window from his spot in the passenger seat, Motoya quietly keeping conversation with Kiyoomi’s mother in the background, when his phone buzzes on his lap.
‘Tsum
hey hey hey baby
i sensed trouble
u alright?
Me
I’m alright.
‘Tsum
that is a lie and i know it
also komori texted me
pls talk to me
Me
That traitor.
Fine. I’ll call you when I get home.
‘Tsum
okay omi omi omi omi <3
i got my phone on me
Kiyoomi doesn’t find the energy to respond back, but he hopes Atsumu knows that he really does love him, especially when he goes so far just to help him feel better.
Motoya’s gets dropped off home with a soft “bye, kiyoomi,” and Kiyoomi leaves his mother to work in the home office, dropping onto his bed and curling up in a ball. He takes a few minutes to just breathe, to try and settle the buzzing underneath his skin, and it calms only a bit before he finally picks up his phone and calls Atsumu.
“Hey, baby!” Atsumu picks up on the second ring, obviously having been waiting for the call, and something in Kiyoomi relaxes enough for him to smile softly. This boy, he loves him so much.
“Hey, ‘Tsumu,” Kiyoomi murmurs back, wincing at how hoarse he sounds; he barely spoke all day, only when necessary, and now it’s showing. “Y’alright?”
“I should be askin’ th’same for you, Omi,” Atsumu throws back at him, but he sounds worried and loving all at once, and continues on before Kiyoomi can feel literally any emotions at that statement. “’M alright, though, baby. Jus’ tired from today; stupid ‘Samu threw his calculator at me, the whore.”
Kiyoomi can’t hold back soft laughter at that, the quiet sounds still drowning out whatever Atsumu’s reaction was. He tunes back in just in time to hear Atsumu ranting about Osamu again.
“-he even stole my onigiris today! Mine! They were my favourites, Omi!”
“I’m sure you’ll survive, ‘Tsumu,” Kiyoomi assures his boyfriend, moving to lie on his back so he can prop the phone between the pillow and his ear. God, he’s so glad he sucked it up and called Atsumu; the other always knows how to distract him, how to just pull him back enough so Kiyoomi can sort himself out.
“I dunno ‘bout that, Omi-baby,” Kiyoomi cringes at the petname, but it still burns his cheeks a dark red, “’Samu’s stupid. Stupid, stupid brother. Speakin’ of siblings, how’s th’neechans of the Sak’sa household?”
“Eiko-nee is still heavily pregnant,” Kiyoomi sighs at the statement, still patiently waiting for the day he becomes an uncle. Babies are gross, but they’re also adorable and Kiyoomi can’t wait to be an uncle. “She’s cranky, but she’s carrying a baby so she can be whatever she wants.”
“Yer so smart, marry me.”
“No. Hina-neechan is still on her honeymoon, they’re still in Busan, and Aoi-nee is almost finished her doctorate.” Kiyoomi’s glad for his sisters, he’s so proud of them; one’s a successful lawyer and expecting mother; one’s recently married and a high school teacher; and the last one is going to have her doctorate in epidemiology. And Kiyoomi is anxious and hits balls for fun.
“Shuddup, I can hear ya doubtin’ yaself again, y’scrub,” Atsumu warns over the phone, before Kiyoomi hears the familiar ringing of a FaceTime request. He immediately switches to video and is treated with the sight of Miya Atsumu in all his glory, piss-yellow hair messy and skin clear and bright, phone obviously propped up somehow on his desk so Kiyoomi can see his entire upper body.
“Don’t call me a scrub, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi’s threat is empty and falls on deaf ears as Atsumu moves to lean closer to the camera, and Kiyoomi’s heart skips at least five beats.
“Yer a nationally acclaimed ace, baby, and set ta win Nationals – though we’re gonna beat’cha so hard, yer gonna be thrown back into yer childhood. Yer set to go to university an’- an’ do whatever the hell y’wanna do, and yer making your family proud. Sak’sa Kiyoomi, yer not a disappointment because of – of whatever you think, but yer strong, and handsome, and my incredibly hot boyfriend, so stop doubting yerself. Okay?”
Kiyoomi and Atsumu both pretend he doesn’t cry at that.
“So, Kiyoomi,” Kiyoomi tries to settle in the uncomfortable chairs of his therapist’s office, as thirty-seven-year-old Ito Katsumi sits across from him. It’s his first session in two months – she thinks he’s been doing well, enough for him to extend their break even longer. Kiyoomi’s fine with that, he feels like he’s getting a bit better – not enough for him to be happy, and God forbid he feels any semblance of hope on a bad day, but he knows there’s been a change.
“How’s your relationship going?” Katsumi’s been supportive of the two ever since he found out, telling Kiyoomi it’s great he’s forging new relationships outside of his family, and when she heard Kiyoomi had willingly ridden a three-hour train to go gallivanting around Amagasaki?
Katsumi had almost fallen off her chair.
“It’s good …” Kiyoomi trails off, but he knows that Katsumi won’t cut in to prompt him, that she trusts he’s just finding the right words. It always annoys him when someone tries to cut over him, even if he stops talking for a few seconds – they always seem to think they know what he’s going to say next, but they don’t, and it’s just infuriating for everyone at that point.
“I just … we’re graduating soon, and Nationals is coming up quick-” Everything’s been released already, Itachiyama are set for Kiyoomi and Motoya’s last stint in Nationals, and he’s freaking out. “Everything’s going so … fast, and I don’t want it to end.”
Kiyoomi knows Katsumi understands what he’s really saying, especially when she smiles softly and leans forward.
“Why does it have to end, Kiyoomi?”
Maybe it’s the environment, maybe it’s actual character growth, but Kiyoomi stops and thinks about it; why does it have to end? Why is Kiyoomi constantly so afraid that Atsumu’s going to turn around and say “sorry, omi-omi, but yer too much f’me and i’m over it. see ya,” when they’ve been together for almost three years? Atsumu’s seen Kiyoomi at some pretty low points, and vice versa; Kiyoomi doesn’t think he’s ever trusted someone this much who wasn’t a family member.
Why was he so scared?
“It’s normal, Kiyoomi,” oh, he’s spoken aloud again, hasn’t he, “but you can’t dwell on your worries. You’re eighteen years old, you’re set to graduate and start your new life, you have a relationship to worry about.”
You’re really not helping now, Kiyoomi bitterly thinks, but Katsumi pushes on.
“It’s normal to feel worried about this, about the stability of your relationship. You mentioned you’re going to university?” Kiyoomi nods at that; he’s got a plan to go to the University of Tokyo and study the Bachelor of Physical Sciences for two years, play collegiate volleyball and hopefully, if he still wishes to upon graduation and is lucky enough to get offers, play professionally.
Atsumu’s going straight into professional volleyball, however – he’s already getting offers, and has plans to meet with the MSBY Black Jackals in Osaka.
Osaka is … not near Tokyo, that’s for sure.
“We’ve been long-distance this entire time, but we’re going to be adults now – I’m going to be studying all the time, and he’ll be a professional athlete, and I’m just … scared.” There, Kiyoomi’s admitted it.
“Why are you scared?” Katsumi knows how to push Kiyoomi’s buttons, and frustration clouds his expression. Why was he scared? Isn’t it obvious?
“It’s not obvious, Kiyoomi –” fuck, he did it again, “- but you really should verbalise it. Tell someone, tell him.” Katsumi leans forward in her chair again, and Kiyoomi feels like he’s being stripped down to his bare bones, to the chemical makeup of his body.
“Tell someone why you’re so scared.”
Nationals is loud, and a blur, and Itachiyama wins. Kiyoomi sobs into Motoya’s shoulder when they finish their last game, and their first-year spiker hits home after a last-minute, back row set from Motoya. Kiyoomi accepts their medals with red-rimmed eyes and trembling lips on national television, and he can see Atsumu screaming his heart out in the stands. They only lost to Karasuno (again) yesterday, and Atsumu made sure to stick around to watch his boyfriend play the finals and win.
Kiyoomi stumbles back into the locker rooms, washes himself and changes back into clean clothes, and stumbles out – only to be tugged into an empty hallway and pulled into one of the biggest hugs ever.
“Fuck, fuck, K’yoomi, ‘m so proud, ‘m so proud of you-” Atsumu’s borderline sobbing into Kiyoomi’s shoulder and he gently pries his boyfriend off of him, cradling his cheeks in his hands and smiling down at Atsumu. His eyes are red, not as red as Kiyoomi’s but getting there, and they’re glistening with unshed tears. He can’t stop smiling, and even though he’s heartbroken he couldn’t get to the finals himself, Kiyoomi knows Atsumu feels nothing but pure happiness that he’s cinched the victory.
“Y’did so well, yer little spiker was so good, ‘Mori-kun had an amazin’ set, who th’fuck taught him tha-!”
Kiyoomi’s only done this a few times before, so he’s not good at the art of surprising, but Atsumu finds himself cut off with a pair of lips pressed to his. It’s not their first kiss, it’s one of many, but it’s not often Kiyoomi instigates it himself. He’s still nervous, he doesn’t know how to kiss, and Atsumu’s walked him through it so many times.
It’s a perfect way to shut him up.
“Atsumu –” Kiyoomi internally cringes at how much he’s panting, at the roughness of his voice – is he tired? Is he trying to catch his breath from that utterly vanilla kiss? Who knows.
“Wh-wha’ – Omi?”
“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi begins again, and his voice is steadier. He feels more centred, like he’s in control now. He knows exactly what’s happening, what he’s going to say, and he has a feeling he even knows what’s going to happen afterwards. “I need to – to tell you this, because it’s been on my mind for the last few months. It’s – it’s important.”
Atsumu’s face drops, and he seems to crumple before Kiyoomi – wait, what the fuck?
“Yer … yer gonna do this on Nationals? Today? Isn’t – isn’t it our two-year annivers’ry?” Atsumu sounds so broken, and Kiyoomi only just realises why – he pales, and immediately tugs Atsumu into a tight hug.
“No, fuck, ‘Tsumu, I’m not breaking up with you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I just … it’s important, I couldn’t not tell you this in person.”
Kiyoomi pulls back to a watery-eyed Atsumu, but he’s not as desolate as before, and it gives him the last push he needed.
“I love you, Atsumu. I really, really love you, and … and I wanted you to know that before we graduated. So we, we can go into our new lives knowing that – that I never leave anything unfinished, and we’re not finished until …”
(Well, Kiyoomi wants to say they’re not finished until they’re dead, but that doesn’t seem to be as romantic as he thinks it would be)
“… until we say so, yeah?” Atsumu finishes for him, and Kiyoomi grins.
“Yeah.”
Kiyoomi graduates the following year with a wide grin, something that’s not common and has half of Itachiyama Institute swooning. The school wishes him and Motoya good luck, lamenting the loss of the top high school ace for two years, and the top high school libero for two years, and Kiyoomi graduates with a guaranteed trip to the University of Tokyo for a Bachelor of Physical Sciences, a plan to join the university’s volleyball team, and a ring on his right hand, adorning the (not-so-empty) ring finger.
It’s not a proposal, Atsumu had made that very clear when Kiyoomi started hyperventilating. It’s a promise. The next few years is going to be tough at times, everything is going to be tough at times, but they just need that little bit of motivation to remember that it’s all worth it. That they do love each other, and one day they’ll be playing side by side, or on opposite sides of the court, or maybe Kiyoomi will settle in the stands and watch Atsumu rule the stage. No matter what, however, it’ll be together.