carrotman
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“Whoa, talk about a con man vibe,” Atsumu had said back then. “I can see it now. He tricked me and before I knew it I was in a jillion yen in debt.” He mocked him and Kiyoomi nodded, agreeing.
He looks slightly annoying, Kiyoomi remembers thinking back then. About three years ago.
He’s definitely annoying, he thinks now as he tries his best not to clench his jaw at the sight of that same man that has been blatantly flirting with Atsumu for about ten minutes now.
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Or, the one where it takes one Kuroo Tetsurou flirting with Atsumu, for Kiyoomi to realize maybe he doesn't want to stay as just friends.
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Bookmarked by carrotman
03 Nov 2025
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“Then you wouldn’t mind,” Atsumu said, his voice a soft rasp, “if I held yer hand, right?”
Kiyoomi stared at Atsumu wide-eyed and open-mouthed. When Kiyoomi’s objection never came, Atsumu tentatively pressed his fingertips into the soft skin of Kiyoomi’s palm.
Kiyoomi’s hand trembled, but he did not pull away. Atsumu slowly threaded their fingers together until their hands were entirely intertwined, flush and warm. Atsumu’s eyes drifted to their joined hands and then back to Kiyoomi’s face. His eyes did not glimmer with mischief. They burned.
After watching his parents’ and siblings’ marriages all end in divorce, Kiyoomi is convinced any relationship of his is doomed to fail. All his life he’s successfully resisted the urge to act on his feelings, and he plans to keep it that way.
Until Atsumu holds his hand on a whim, and everything falls apart.
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It’s just a fleeting infatuation. As long as he pushes through it he’ll manage. So what if nowadays there isn’t a night where he doesn’t dream of Sakusa pinning him down on his own bed, in the shower or make Atsumu go down on his knees in the hallway? Those are just pesky details.
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“Atsumu,” Sakusa utters, causing his gaze to snap up.
His pupils are so blown out that Atsumu can't see where they blend with his black iris. His look seems just as frustrated as Atsumu has felt all these last fucking days. The furrow between his brows reveals that he wants Atsumu at least as much and yet he’s still hesitant.
Atsumu frowns and inhales sharply.
“Ya really do want me,” he says. “And ya hate it.”
He changes the angle of his knife, so it’s against Sakusa’s neck. He doesn’t look nearly as alarmed by the cold metal pressed against his skin as Atsumu might expect. Not nearly as alarmed as when Atsumu brings his mouth to Kiyoomi’s.
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“If I missed you,” Kiyoomi said slowly, “that would mean it’s not over.”
Atsumu stared at him in silence, different emotions flitting over his sharp features: anger, disbelief, sadness, grief. Atsumu stepped into the water, his eyes wide and determined. “Are you gonna miss me, Omi?”
Kiyoomi dug his fingernails into his palm and prayed to draw blood. He took a shaky breath, trying to expel the lump in his throat, but all that came out was his shaky voice. “Stop asking me that question.”
“Why?” Atsumu dared him. “‘Cause it’d mean it’s not over?”
Months after their breakup, Kiyoomi and Atsumu accidentally run into each other only a few days before Atsumu leaves to play in Brazil. Atsumu invites Kiyoomi on a trip to the beach for one last goodbye, and Kiyoomi reluctantly agrees, hoping to finally find closure—or something else he's too afraid to face.