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It’s because he reminds him of Kita, he tells himself.
That’s the only reason why Atsumu has a big, gay crush on Sakusa. It’s something familiar in a place where everything is new.
Though it’s not really true, he muses, as he’s changing in the locker room one day after practice. Sakusa and Kita aren’t really all the same. They’ve got different hairstyles, and different faces, and they wear different clothes. Sakusa is a hypochondriac and he’s too serious sometimes, while Kita isn’t. Kita also seems to like Atsumu at least a little bit, and Atsumu doesn’t think he’s ever seen Sakusa actually smile outside of a game before.
But they’re both reliable, and they’re both someone Atsumu trusts with his life, and they’re both genuine in the way they play volleyball. They’re both infallible, dependable, responsible, unwavering, steadfast, devoted, every other synonym that exists.
That’s why Atsumu likes him, he thinks. That’s the only reason why. Because it feels good to know that someone always has your back and that you can fall back on them if need be. So no one can blame him, really, for being in love with Sakusa.
Okay, maybe being in love was a bit too much.
“You’re going to get locked in here if you sit around any longer,” says Sakusa as he zips up his windbreaker. It’s the color of an American school bus, all bright yellow and ugly. His hair is still wet from the after-practice shower, though damp curls are already starting to spring up. He raises an eyebrow at Atsumu as he puts on his cough mask, hooking the straps behind his ears.
Atsumu stares at him, well aware he’s staring. “I’m goin’,” he says, pulling a grey hoodie over his head. “What’re ya doin’ here so late anyway, Omi-kun? You’re usually the first one in’n’out.”
Sakusa makes a sound that Atsumu thinks might be an irritated growl. “Please talk like a normal human being,” he says, and Atsumu lets him get away with his blatant avoidal of the question. His eyebrows twist in a way that shows disgust clear on his face despite the cough mask covering half of it.
Atsumu chuckles and grabs his bag. “This is how normal human beings talk where I’m from.”
“You’re far from normal.”
“I could say the same thing about you, Mr. I’m-Afraid-Of-Colds.”
Sakusa tilts his head, not saying anything. Atsumu refuses to squirm under his gaze; he has to keep his dignity somehow. He hates it when Sakusa looks at him like that because it’s impossible to know what he’s thinking, and it makes Atsumu feel like he has to pick apart his skin and expose himself for judgement.
“Let’s just go,” says Sakusa, and Atsumu grins at the floor at the way Sakusa implies they’ll be leaving together.
Fuck, Atsumu is so gay for Sakusa that it’s kind of embarrassing. For maybe the first time since they parted ways, Atsumu is glad that Osamu isn’t on the same team as him anymore, otherwise the teasing would never stop.
They walk out of the locker room together, and Atsumu hunches his shoulders up against the cold. The air between him and Sakusa is tense and quiet, and normally Atsumu would have no problem filling the silence, but now he’s anxious to open his mouth and risk embarrassing himself even further.
Sakusa looks at Atsumu from the corner of his eye, and Atsumu can tell this because he keeps sneaking glances at Sakusa. Sakusa scratches the side of his head and looks like he wants to say something, so Atsumu patiently waits for him.
He never gets the chance, though, because their hurricane of teammates come hurling towards them.
“Atsumu-san!” Hinata says, waving his arms in the air as he jogs towards them. Bokuto is right next to him, wearing a radiant grin of his own. It’s kind of cute how similar they are and how Bokuto still prides himself on being Hinata’s teacher. “Saku-san!”
“What d'ya want, Shorty?” Atsumu asks, adjusting his bag.
“We’re going to go grab dinner! Come with us!” Bokuto says, flashing him a thumbs up as Hinata looks affronted at the nickname.
“You too, Saku-san!” Hinata adds before Sakusa can run off, nodding rapidly. Atsumu wrinkles his nose at the motion, wondering how Hinata avoids getting shaken baby syndrome if he moves like that.
“Actually, I-“ Sakusa starts, but Atsumu is already grinning and grabbing his sleeve, careful not to touch skin.
“Okay! Let’s go!” he says, dragging Sakusa after their more exuberant teammates. He looks over his shoulder to smile at Sakusa, who glares at him in return.
Atsumu quickly drags his eyes away, because Sakusa is so pretty it’s unfair. Even with that stupid mask covering half his face, it’s still like looking at an angel.
Vaguely, in the back of his head, he hears Osamu calling him a masochist for enjoying being glared at.
Once they get to the restaurant, Atsumu grabs Bokuto’s arm and drags him into the booth next to him.
“Sit next to me,” Atsumu says when Bokuto gives him a confused look.
“Why?”
“So I don’t have to look at ya.”
Bokuto gives Atsumu a scandalized gasp, but he sits next to him anyway. Atsumu really wanted Bokuto to sit next to him so he wouldn’t be trapped in a booth with Sakusa, and so he could look at Sakusa. It was a win-win situation.
Well, it was, until Sakusa pulled out his own pair of disposable bamboo chopsticks as he tucked his mask away. His brows furrow when he notices everyone staring at him. “What?” he asks, voice an irritable growl.
This behavior from Sakusa wasn’t new to Atsumu. He did go to the All Japan Youth Camp after all, so he got to see first hand how weird Sakusa was when it came to germs.
It was kind of cute, in a way, how obsessive Sakusa was about cleanliness. Atsumu wants to know what made him a freak about it in the first place.
Sakusa raises an eyebrow at Atsumu in question, the rest of his expression remaining aggressively neutral.
Atsumu covers his face behind his hand and awkwardly looks out the window in an attempt to hide his blush. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Sakusa’s face before, so he doesn’t know why his heart always races or why his face heats up every time Sakusa takes off the mask.
“You have your own chopsticks, Saku-san?” Hinata says, tilting his head and effectively distracting Sakusa from Atsumu. Atsumu lets out a sigh of relief.
“I don’t like using public utensils,” Sakusa says with a bristle. He reminds Atsumu of a hedgehog, or something.
“That makes sense!” says Bokuto, that wide grin of his never leaving his face. “My Keiji is the same way! Though, he doesn’t wear a mask everywhere!”
Akaashi Keiji. Atsumu remembers him from high school, and they played against each other in their third year. As a fellow setter, Atsumu was enchanted by the way Akaashi played.
Though, Atsumu was better, of course.
The only thing he really knew about Akaashi is that he started dating Bokuto after they won nationals in Bokuto’s third year, and now he works at a publishing company or something.
“Speaking of Akaashi,” Atsumu says, dragging the conversation away from Sakusa, “where is he?”
Bokuto looks thrilled at the chance to talk about his husband. “He’s helping Tenma-san go over his manga tonight, so he’s staying at work late!”
“That explains why you wanted to go out!” says Hinata. “You usually just want to go home!”
Atsumu laughs at the way that Bokuto sounds indignant at Hinata’s observation. He watches his teammates bicker, drumming his fingers on the table in a steady rhythm. Hinata catches Atsumu’s eye and flashes him a wide smile, and Atsumu grins in return before he looks away.
In high school and middle school, he wasn’t particularly favoured by his teammates. He was too much, they’d say. Atsumu never really thought being hated by his own teammates bothered him until he came to the Black Jackals, where no one thought his weird obsessive quirks were annoying and they all liked him.
At least when he was at Inarizaki he had Aran and Kita who made things easier for him.
“Atsumu-san!” Hinata calls, demanding attention. Atsumu hums to show he’s listening. “I want to try setting for you tomorrow!”
Atsumu perks up at the thought. “Oh? Think ya got the skills to match me, hm?” he teases.
Hinata either doesn’t realize Atsumu’s teasing or he just doesn’t care. “Of course not! It’s just useful if everyone on the team can set and hit.”
“I’m not gonna to object to hittin’ a few balls,” Atsumu says, and then the waitress comes around to take their order.
Sakusa remains quiet except for ordering, watching the rest of his teammates quietly before he glares out the window with a pout.
Atsumu stares at him, eyes flicking all over his face. Sakusa really is pretty. He’s a perfect blend of quiet grace and loud attractiveness. He was gorgeous and bold, like a greek statue.
Except for now, when he’s scowling out of the window with his forehead carefully maintaining a few centimeters of distance from the glass and his cheek is squished up from his hand propping his head up. Now he just looks soft, and Atsumu fantasizes about peppering soft kisses all over Sakusa’s face.
“What?” Sakusa growls after a few minutes, shaking Atsumu out of his reverie. Hinata and Bokuto are lost in their own worlds talking amongst themselves, so Atsumu knows Sakusa is talking to him.
“Huh?” Atsumu says, eloquent as always.
“You keep staring at me. What’s your problem?” Sakusa answers, finally looking away from the window to meet Atsumu’s eyes.
“No problem,” Atsumu says, feeling his face heat up embarrassingly. Sakusa looks unimpressed.
Well, if Atsumu was embarrassed, he might as well embarrass Sakusa, too.
“You’re just pretty, so s’nice to look at ya, that's all,” Atsumu rushes out before his own inhibitions can stop him.
Sakusa’s eyes go wide as he gives Atsumu a scandalized look, a deep blush painting his face. Atsumu thinks this is the most emotion he’s ever seen on Sakusa’s face before. He feels his own face heat up, and he bites his knuckles to stop himself from saying anything else that’ll damage his reputation.
Luckily Sakusa doesn’t get to say anything in return, because their food arrives and Atsumu quickly starts an argument with Bokuto so he doesn’t have to look at Sakusa anymore.
—
Atsumu was fucked.
Truly, absolutely, irreversibly fucked.
Sakusa was always the first ones in the locker room after practice. That much wasn’t new.
This time, though, Atsumu was first.
He had ran to the locker rooms immediately after practice because he had heard that adoption prices were half off at the shelter today, and it wasn’t like he was actually going to adopt a cat, but he wanted to look anyway.
So he showers in world record time, not even bothering to fix up his hair as he struggles to put jeans on his still wet calves.
Then there’s the click of the locker room doors, and Sakusa walks in, looking dead as always.
“Which shower did you use?” Sakusa asks.
Atsumu points as he shoves his feet through his jeans.
Sakusa nods in return before he begins to strip right there, and Atsumu’s mind throws itself off a cliff.
Sakusa’s back is broad and pale, littered with freckles and moles that stand out as starkly as the ones on this face do. Atsumu has always hated the term “skin like porcelain”, but that’s exactly the way Sakusa’s skin is.
Smooth and without imperfections, except for thin and silvery scars that are the only cracks on his surface.
Atsumu squeaks at the sight, and he bites his knuckles to keep from making anymore embarrassing noises.
Sakusa freezes then looks over his shoulder at Atsumu, amusement showing on his face. Atsumu gapes at him, not wanting to see how ridiculous he looks like now.
“Something the problem, Atsumu-san?”
Atsumu swallows and shakes his head. “No.”
“Then why are you staring?”
He’s going to die, he thinks. He really is. This is it. Sakusa teasing him will be the death of him.
“You’re just…” he drifts off, not able to come up with an excuse. “How’d ya get those scars?” he clears his throat and says instead, knowing it’s a feeble attempt at changing the subject.
Sakusa looks down at his own body. “Fell off a roof when I was a kid,” he says, pointing to an especially long one on his ribs. “Got bit by a rabbit when I was eleven,” here he points at one on his hip, “got hit with a firework when I was fifteen,” he points at a sprinkle of scars on his back. Atsumu doesn’t want to sound overly gay and poetic, but the scattering of dust-like scars on his back remind Atsumu of stars. “Got-“
“Okay, I get it,” says Atsumu, cutting Sakusa off. “You’re actually just a dork with stupid scars.”
“What were you expecting?”
“Somethin’ cooler, like you were in the yakuza, or somethin’.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
Atsumu gives him a bright grin. “You never disappoint me, Omi-Omi!”
Sakusa wrinkles his nose. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“How’d ya know?” Atsumu startles, because he doesn’t recall having told anyone what he was doing.
“I only assumed because you rushed into the locker rooms. You usually stay behind for a while.”
For some reason, it warms Atsumu’s heart that Sakusa noticed that.
He smiles at his knees. “Half off adoption prices at the shelter today. I don’t think I’ll actually adopt a pet, but my therapist said it might be a good idea,” Atsumu admits.
Sakusa hums and doesn’t question Atsumu about his therapist, for which he is grateful. It’s not that he’s ashamed of it, he’s just not very vocal about it, because seeing a therapist implies there’s something wrong with you.
And, well, there is something wrong with Atsumu, but he doesn’t want people to know that.
“If you want to wait ten minutes,” Sakusa says, the muscles in his shoulders and back going tense, “I’ll go with you.”
Atsumu sucks in a breath, his heart racing. “Really?”
Sakusa rolls his shoulders and tilts his head, his eyes narrowing at Atsumu. “I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”
Atsumu gives him a bright smile. “No, I want you to! Thanks, Omi-kun!”
Sakusa snorts and gets in the shower.
—
Being alone with Sakusa isn’t as awkward as Atsumu thought it would be.
Sure, Sakusa barely talks at all, but Atsumu finds that he doesn’t mind that much. He talks enough for the both of them. He tells Sakusa about the ferret he saw at the pet store the other day and about the pigeon that got into his house last week.
Sakusa hums when necessary, and Atsumu’s endless chatter lulls into silence once they board the train.
He makes sure to keep a careful distance from Sakusa, but when he sees someone moving to occupy the space between them, he fills it.
Sakusa doesn’t say anything, but Atsumu knows he appreciates it nonetheless.
They get off at their stop, and Atsumu leads Sakusa to the shelter. He’s wearing that ridiculous school bus yellow windbreaker again, but Atsumu finds that he doesn’t hate it so much. It kind of suits Sakusa.
“You can wait out here if ya want,” Atsumu says when they reach the shelter. “It’ll probably be full of germs in there.”
Sakusa looks like he’s considering it, and Atsumu walks up the steps to leave Sakusa be. Then he feels the brush of fabric against his arm, and he looks over in surprise. “I’ll be fine,” Sakusa says, tapping his cough mask before he looks away. Atsumu can see the blush rising over the mask, and he finds it ridiculously endearing. “My therapist also said I should get a pet, though she suggested a fish.”
Atsumu’s not sure why, but he’s surprised that Sakusa sees a therapist too. Atsumu sees his therapist for his OCD, but only his family, coach Foster, and Meian know he deals with that.
Maybe this is just Sakusa opening up a little further to him.
Atsumu smiles to himself at the thought that Sakusa trusts him enough to be able to tell him things. “Next week,” he says, holding the door open for Sakusa, “let’s go get you a fish.”
“If you insist,” says Sakusa in a tone that is disgustingly bland, but Atsumu likes to think that maybe Sakusa is secretly pleased.
Atsumu makes a beeline for the room where the cats are kept, and Sakusa hesitates before following him. Atsumu coos over all the cats, and Sakusa watches him in amusement.
“I always thought you’d be a dog person,” Sakusa says.
“Nah,” says Atsumu. “They’re too high energy for me. I prefer things that’re quiet ‘nd calm.”
Sakusa looks surprised, though Atsumu can’t fathom why. Sakusa murmurs something that Atsumu doesn’t quit catch, but he doesn’t press it.
Atsumu turns back to the cats before he turns around to look at Sakusa, who is giving a cat the softest and most lovey-dovey gaze Atsumu has ever seen.
It feels like Cupid shot an arrow through his heart with the way butterflies erupt in his belly and make his knees go weak.
“Who knew you were a fool for cats, Omi-kun,” Atsumu says, walking over to stand next to Sakusa.
“This one is cute,” Sakusa defends himself.
Sakusa isn’t wrong. It is a cute cat, with big blue eyes and white and grey fur.
Atsumu sticks his fingers in the kennel for her to rub up on, and Sakusa scrunches his nose up under his mask.
“That’s unsanitary,” he says.
Atsumu ignores him and reads her info sheet. “It says this one’s deaf.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Well, the sheet says she’s also mute.”
“Uh huh,” says Sakusa, still missing the point.
Atsumu clears his throat awkwardly, not wanting to explain the weird hatred he has for sound. “It’ll just be good for me, I think,” he says. He grabs the adoption card from the sheet and nods at Sakusa, who follows him to the front desk.
“I thought you weren’t going to actually adopt one?” says Sakusa as Atsumu fills out the adoption forms.
Atsumu feels his ears and cheeks heat up. “Shut up, would ya?”
The receptionist smiles at Atsumu after he gives her the adoption fee. “Alrighty, I’ll go fetch her for you!”
“Thanks,” Atsumu says, unable to contain his smile. He turns to look at Sakusa, who is giving him a look eerily similar to the one he was giving the cat. Atsumu’s heart does flips again, and he gives Sakusa a dumb smile.
Then Atsumu catches his reflection in the window, and he sees how terrible his hair is.
“Omi-kun!” Atsumu nearly shrieks. “Why didn’t you tell me that my hair was a mess?!”
Sakusa’s eyes sparkle amusedly, and Atsumu wishes he could see the smile under the mask. “I thought it was cute.”
Atsumu feels his face erupt into red splotches, feeling like someone just set him on fire. “ OMI-KUN! You can’t just say things like that!”
Sakusa tilts his head, eyes still crinkled at the corners like he’s smiling.
Atsumu finds that he doesn’t care being embarrassed if it causes Sakusa to look at him like that.
“I only say things that are true,” he says.
Atsumu bites his knuckles and looks away because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop himself from planting kisses all over Sakusa’s stupid face.
“Whatever, nerd,” Atsumu says as the lady brings him his cat. “Let’s go home.”
Sakusa doesn’t say anything about the way the phrase “let’s go home” makes them sound like they live together.
—
“Wait. What?”
Atsumu switches his phone to his other ear so he can grab his cat off the arm of the couch. She gives a gentle purr before she settles down in his lap.
“I have a crush on one of my teammates,” Atsumu repeats. He gently rubs the cat’s ears, waiting for Osamu’s reply.
It’s only been a week since he got the cat, and he named her Kamome when he showed Adriah a picture and he said that she reminded him of a seagull.
“Okaaay,” says Osamu, drawing the word out longer than necessary. “Who is it?”
Atsumu squirms. He hasn’t actually told anyone about his crush on Sakusa, so voicing it feels impossible. “Uh.”
Osamu hums. “I hope it’s not one of the older guys. They’re all taken and straight. It could be Bokuto, but he’s also married. And isn’t Hinata, like, in love with Kageyama?”
Atsumu sighs. “Yeah.”
“That leaves Sakusa. Oh my god, you have a crush on Sakusa?!” Osamu laughs, the sound making Atsumu wince on the other side of the phone.
“Don’t say it so loud!” Atsumu hisses.
“Whatever. Like anyone’s around to hear me.”
“Your girlfriend might.”
“You’re on speaker. She already heard.”
“Hi, Atsumu-kun!” says Osamu’s girlfriend. Atsumu wants to be mad, but Osamu’s girlfriend, Hana, is a sweetheart who has always been nice to Atsumu.
“Hi, Hana-chan,” he greets with a grumble. He rubs at the bridge of his nose, wondering what he’s supposed to do about Sakusa. “What should I do?”
He hears Hana hum on the other side of the line. “You could confess!” she says. “I’ll help you! It’ll be all sweet and romantic!”
“And if he doesn’t feel the same way? I’ll ruin the team.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” says Osamu. “It’ll take a lot less for you to ruin the team than that.”
“Hey!”
Osamu chuckles. “Besides, I don’t think Sakusa is the kind of guy to make things awkward just because he doesn’t return your feelings.”
Atsumu picks at a loose thread on the couch, knowing Osamu is right. “But,” he says, hating how pathetic and small his voice sounds. “Do you think I have a chance?”
“Hell no. You suck,” Osamu says.
Atsumu takes enough offense to that that he hangs up the phone, tossing it to the other side of the couch. It begins to ring after a few minutes, but he ignores it. He knows he’s being dramatic just like Osamu said, but he can’t help but think that Osamu is right.
After all, Atsumu does suck. He’s rude and he likes to taunt people and he loses his temper easily, and sometimes he has weird mental breakdowns over nothing. He’s got weird rituals that he has to do or else it feels like spiders are crawling all over his skin. He could go on and on about all the bad things about himself, but he can’t find a single good attribute.
After a while Atsumu reaches over and grabs his phone, ignoring the 3 missed calls from Osamu. He scrolls through his contacts, finding the one he was looking for. His finger covers over the call button, and Atsumu hesitantly presses it.
He picks up on the second ring. “Atsumu. Hi.”
“Kita-san,” Atsumu greets. “How are you?”
There’s a rustling noise on Kita’s side. “I’m well, though I’m guessing you’re not calling to talk about my wellbeing.”
“No, sorry,” Atsumu says, feeling a bit bad. Maybe he should call Kita more often. “I need advice.”
“Okay. What is it?”
“Uh… what are some good things about me?”
Kita doesn’t question why Atsumu is asking, and Atsumu feels himself calm down a little. Kita is quiet for a couple seconds, humming under his breath.
“Well, you’re a hard worker. You’re a good friend. You’re persistent and honest. You’ve got a nice smile and nice hair.”
Atsumu smiles despite himself. “You think my hair is nice?”
“I think that’s the least important quality out of all the things I stated,” says Kita, though he sounds amused. “Is that what you needed advice about?”
“No… I have a crush on Sakusa and I don’t know what to do about it. Osamu said I’d have no chance because I suck.”
“You do suck,” says Kita, and Atsumu feels indignation flare up in him, “but nobody actually cares. If we did, we’d tell you. Don’t listen to Osamu, he’s just teasing you like always.”
“Okay,” Atsumu says, relaxing a bit. “Then what do I do?”
“You tell him. Be simple and straightforward. Sakusa is a very cautious person, so I don’t think he’d ever confess to you if he felt the same way. You have to present the option to him first.”
“And if he’s straight or simply doesn’t feel the same way?”
“Well, it’s not the end of the world, is it?” says Kita, and for some reason, that does wonders to calm Atsumu’s nerves. “You’re both adults. You’ll figure it out.”
Atsumu sighs. “Thank you, Kita-san.”
“Of course. Was that everything?”
“Yeah. Wait, have you seen my cat?”
They chat for a few more minutes, and Atsumu promises to send Kita a picture of his cat. They bid each other goodbye, and Atsumu snuggles into the couch with his cat.
—
He can’t believe he’s doing this.
He almost talks himself out of it at least nine times, and he’s about to go for a tenth time.
Atsumu paces on the sidewalk outside, his breath billowing in the air. He fiddles with the cap of hand sanitizer in his pocket since he has nothing else do, and then he starts to bite his knuckles until he remembers that his therapist said it was a bad habit and he should stop.
He asked Sakusa to meet him outside after practice earlier today. Sakusa had given him a weird look but agreed nonetheless.
Now Atsumu was starting to think Sakusa forgot.
“What did you want to see me about?”
Atsumu shrieks and jumps before he feels himself heat up in embarrassment, and he rubs his arms to generate heat. “Don’t scare me like that, Omi-kun!”
Sakusa looks amused. He’s not wearing his couch mask, though Atsumu notices he’s fiddling with it in his hands. “Sorry. Now, get on with it. I’m cold. Why couldn’t we do this inside?”
Atsumu rubs his hands together nervously. “I didn’t want anyone to overhear.”
Now Sakusa looks suspicious. “Overhear what?”
Atsumu looks at the ground, feeling cold and hot at the same time. His heart is beating ridiculously fast and his hands are disgustingly clammy. “I like you,” he says, and fuck whatever his therapist said, he bites his knuckles. Sakusa is too silent, and Atsumu refuses to look at him. “Um. I don’t expect you to feel the same way, I just wanted you to know,” he says, and he feels tears start to prick at his eyes. How pathetic of him. “Please don’t go around telling everyone else.”
“I like you, too,” says Sakusa.
“Thanks,” Atsumu replies before Sakusa’s words actually register in his head. “Wait, what?”
He finally looks up to see Sakusa giving him one of those stupidly soft smiles, and Atsumu’s heart begins racing again for an entirely different reason.
“Thanks?” Sakusa repeats, tone teasing.
“I thought you were agreeing not to tell anybody!” Atsumu defends. “What do you mean you like me?!”
“I mean I like you,” Sakusa says, and Atsumu feels so giddy and stupid that he presses the palm of his hand against his mouth to hide his smile.
“Say it again.”
“I like you, Atsumu, though I don’t think I’ll be able to say it a fourth time.”
Atsumu bounces on the balls of his feet. “What does this mean?”
“It means we’ll be dating if you’re not a coward.”
“Why do I have to ask you out?” Atsumu whines, though he’s thrilled at the prospect of asking Sakusa out.
“Because you confessed to me.”
“No fair. That means you should ask me out.”
“Fine,” says Sakusa in that boring tone of his, “Atsumu, will you-“
“Wait!” Atsumu cuts him off. “Let me do it!”
Sakusa tilts his head, a smile blossoming across his face. “Fine.”
Atsumu grins and gets down on one knee, and Sakusa raises an eyebrow at him. “Omi-kun,” he says, grabbing the fabric of Sakusa’s stupid school bus windbreaker in lieu of his hands. “Will you be my boyfriend?”
Sakusa wrinkles his nose. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Well?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
Atsumu stands back up, grinning crookedly at Sakusa. “Okay. Let’s go home.”
They only walk a few feet before Atsumu is tugging on Sakusa’s windbreaker. “Hey, Omi-kun.”
“What?”
“Can I hold your hand?”
Sakusa wrinkles his nose at the notion. “No. They’re probably filthy.”
“That’s why I brought hand sanitizer,” Atsumu says, waving the little bottle in the air.
Sakusa snorts and puts on his cough mask. “Fine, but make sure you’re thorough.”
Atsumu does as he's told, scrubbing his hands with the sanitizer under Sakusa’s watchful eye. Then he does it a second and a third time, just to be sure.
To his surprise, it’s Sakusa who reaches for his hand and threads their fingers loosely together when he’s done.
“Omi-Omi,” Atsumu sings, “who knew you were such a softie.”
“I could let go,” Sakusa threatens, though his grip on Atsumu’s hand doesn’t relax.
Atsumu smiles at Sakusa, and he makes a mental note to call Kita later and thank him.