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Atsumu doesn’t really know when he started feeling butterflies in his stomach when he looked at Kita Shinsuke. It’s as if one day he woke up in the morning and looked at Kita practicing receives and heart exploded with overwhelming fondness for the male.
Atsumu might be an asshole who doesn’t hesitate saying what’s on his mind but he knows his feelings are not reciprocated. He might be inconsiderate and a jerk, but he sees the way Oomimi looks at Kita like he puts the stars in the night sky. He doesn’t care about his feelings—he knows they are temporary, but he remembers seeing the same look on Oomimi’s face for the past two years and with the way Akagi and Aran treat them, he is sure, even in their first year, Oomimi was as smitten as he is now.
He backs off—he doesn’t need love. He has Osamu and he has volleyball and that’s all he needs in his life. Still, he loses sleep over Kita, dreams of the male, thoughts of the silver haired male always swirling in his mind. He lives to see the pleased smile on Kita’s face after a satisfying victory, reels with bursting emotions every time he sends a toss toward the male and it smashes into the other side of the court.
His heart sings when Kita scolds him and sends him back home: he cares. It sings when he finds the bag full of medicine and his favorite snack on the benches in the changing room. He thought perhaps these feelings will go away, but this solidifies that he will love a male who doesn’t return his feelings for a long time.
His heart breaks when Kita smiles the softest, most open smile he has ever seen when looking at Oomimi. He calls them an old married couple, but his heart is scattered in pieces when Kita smiles at Oomimi and reaches for his hand.
They graduate and Atsumu watches his love hold Oomimi’s hand as they walk out of the gym, smiles soft and fond and promise of a future cradled in the intertwined fingers
He finds himself enchanted with Suna Rintarou sometime in their third year. The way Suna smiles, the way he acts like all he wants is to sleep but puts his heart and soul in every spike, every block. He finds his eyes seeking out the male every time they are in the same room. He finds himself enamored with the way Suna’s waist twists when he dodges a block and slams a score on the opposite side of the net, the way smirks slyly every time he gets past blockers, when he blocks a powerful spike.
It takes him some time before he realizes that Suna has replaced the endless thoughts about Kita, that Suna is the one he dreams of now, the one he wants to hold close and kiss and—
One day when they are eating lunch on the rooftop, the third years together, his eyes fall on Osamu for the briefest moments as Suna talks. His brother, the same one that refuses to smile more than necessary, the one who wears a blank expression no matter how funny something is has the goofiest smile gracing his lips, eyes warm and soft as he looks at the black haired middle blocker.
Osamu, who hates sharing his food, extends his bento for Suna to dig in. His brother who hates salmon brings the fish as his lunch just to give it to Suna without batting an eye. He notices how his brother’s eyes are always trained on the male whenever they are in the same room, the way Osamu who despises unnecessary contact leans into Suna’s shoulder as they talk in hushed voices.
He notices how Suna leans into his brother whenever they are in touching distance, notices how his new love looks at Osamu the same way Oomimi looked at Kita. He notices when Suna started seeking out his brother, smile small yet fond.
“Do ya like Sunarin?” Atsumu asks as if he already doesn’t know the answer. His heart breaks anew when his brother blushes lightly, eyes turning soft at the mention of the other male, “’Samu, you love him?”
“Yeah,” Osamu breaths, eyes dreamy before he frowns and turns to him, “Why?”
Atsumu shakes his head with what he hopes is an easy, reassuring smile, which hides his shattered heart, “Nothing,” he says, arm extending out as a hint for Osamu to move into them. Osamu looks confused but does. Atsumu rests his head on his brother’s shoulder, eyes closed as he hums, “He likes you too.”
“You think so?” Osamu asks, voice hopeful, “Really?”
Atsumu nods, hoping his voice doesn’t shake when he says,”Really. Go get him, will ya? I always wanted a brother-in-law.”
Osamu shoves him but he laughs, his brother following suit and the two dissolves into laughing fits. Atsumu looks at his brother and hopes with every atom of his being that Osamu doesn’t go through what Atsumu has, twice.
Suna is Atsumu’s love, but Osamu is his brother and Atsumu, for all his faults, will never snatch his brother’s happiness. Atsumu might love Suna but he loves Osamu more than anyone and he hopes, with his twice cracked heart, that his brother can love Suna for him too.
Hinata Shoyo was interesting. Atsumu had thought that when he first met the male in his second year. He was very interesting and Atsumu was pulled to him like a tide is to the pull of the moon.
In his second year he still loved Kita but the orange head, incarnation of sunshine had pulled him in his orbit. His brother’s decision to leave volleyball was still a raw wound, still felt like a nightmare. Atsumu knew it wasn’t and the reeling emptiness that his time with his brother was limited. Osamu was the only one who met him stride to stride, the only one who was willing to and could put up with Atsumu. He was still despairing that soon he will be alone and moving forward on his own.
But Hinata had come in with his burning passion that matched Atsumu’s, with his speed and jump and promised Atsumu someone who will match him, someone who will push him past his limit and listen to his relentless demands and that, that passion and need to improve pulled Atsumu in his orbit, and after his defeat in his second year, he promised the male that one day he will toss to him. One day Atsumu will toss to Hinata because Hinata is a spiker who will always be there to hit his tosses, who will trust him.
Atsumu fell for Suna’s charm in his third year, and still, sometimes he thought of Hinata and the burning passion. His brother left his side and in the emptiness, the silence, the darkness, a part of Atsumu waited for the sunshine Hinata will bring, hoped Hinata will play with him.
Kageyama told him Hinata moved to Brazil for two years for beach volleyball. Atsumu, scarred and resenting of love, still found himself waiting, still found himself hoping. He was surprised by his willingness to wait for a male he didn’t know whether will ever play with him.
Then the same male, the same orange-haired sunshine, came to the MSBY Black Jackals try-out. He was taller, wider, stronger, but the charm, the smile that pulled Atsumu in the first time stayed the same.
It was inevitable—Atsumu’s promise to never fall in love again was futile in the presence of the warmth Hinata provided, the light he shone at Atsumu’s miserable existence. Atsumu could do nothing but take his wax wings and like Icarus fly to the sun (and burn and fall).
He could do nothing but give the broken pieces of his heart to the male and hope he can mend it for him (he never did, never could).
It was after Hinata’s debut match against the Adlers that Atsumu realized, Hinata could never love him. It was after that match that Atsumu realized, once again, his love will never be reciprocated. How can it when Hinata had someone so much better, so much closer to him?
Kageyama had a claim on that heart before Atsumu even knew of the duo. Atsumu and Hinata might be able to pull off the freak quick, might be able to play like a connected mind but they will never be a duo. They will never have what Atsumu had with his twin or what Hinata has with Kageyama.
What made Hinata blaze is not his passion, Atsumu realized, it’s Kageyama and the challenge, the promise to improve and strive forward that he presents. Atsumu might be able to pull of the freak quick but he will never challenge Hinata the way Kageyama does.
Like Hinata will never replace Osamu, Atsumu could never take Kageyama’s place, and it was about time Atsumu admitted defeat and accepted that he will never be loved whether or not he gave his heart or not.
He watches Kageyama and Hinata bicker, words flowing easily between them, teasing, and content smile on their faces and accepts he can never have Hinata’s heart when Kageyama has already taken it.
“I loved Motoya once,” Kiyoomi admits when he has had too much alcohol and is sitting on the floor of his living room with Miya Atsumu of all people. “He was the only one I felt like I could touch without the world crumbling from underneath me. Once, but it was years and years ago.”
Sprawled on the floor of his living room with countless bottles of alcohol scattered around them, and the lights switched off, they both talked—about various things. Now they are on the topic of the relationships and Kiyoomi, in his alcohol muddled mind asks the setter, did you ever love Shoyo?
“I loved him once,” Atsumu tells him with a wistful smile, “Once, when I still thought I could be loved, I loved him.”
Kiyoomi doesn’t say anything, only looks at Atsumu, tipsy and wet-eyed.
“I loved three people in my life,” Atsumu continues, “Kita-san, Sunarin and Shoyo. I loved them once and every time it was like I was being stabbed by a thousand knives and killed again and again because they never loved me.”
“Did you ever confess?” Kiyoomi asks, drunk himself and thus more open than he ever will.
“No,” Atsumu laughs, brash and choked up, “I couldn’t—not when I knew they didn’t love me.”
Kiyoomi takes another swig of his beer and waves his hand in a sign for Atsumu to continue.
Atsumu sighs, plasters himself to Kiyoomi’s floor and says, “Kita-san was my first love, and I might have confessed to him. Then I saw the way Oomimi-kun looked at him…it was as if Kita-san put the stars on his night sky—he did on mine too, but Kita-san loved Oomimi-kun. I might be dumb, but I am not foolish enough to pursue something I’ll never have. ”
“I wonder where that self control is,” Kiyoomi jabs, “You live to embarrass yourself now.”
“Hey!” Atsumu barks, kicking a foot in Kiyoomi’s vague direction.
“It’s true though,” Kiyoomi insists, “Anyway carry on; I wanna hear it to the end.”
“You are having too much fun watching me wallow in my grief,” Atsumu whines, sitting up to take a swig of his sake, shoving Kiyoomi when he admits, maybe.
“Anyway, tell me more.”
“In our third year, I fell in love with Sunarin.” Atsumu admits, “He was probably the one I’d have confessed to out of them all, but Osamu loved him too. I might be an asshole, Omi-kun, but I’d have damned myself than snatch my brother’s happiness away. I’d be damned to let Samu go through what I did, not when I could prevent it.”
“Miya-” Kiyoomi starts, but Atsumu gives him a rueful smile.
“I loved Rintarou but Samu was my brother and I’d always love him more. The heartbreak I went through with Kita, I didn’t want Samu to experience it ever, and he’s too good for that.”
“But you broke your own heart.” Kiyoomi frowns.
“I don’t mind that Omi-omi. Rintarou loves Samu more than anything…and Samu deserved to be loved like that. He put up with my bullshit for twenty five years, that’s the least I could- can do for him. ”
“I moved on anyway,” Atsumu continues, “Now then, Shoyo time. Rintarou might have been the one I loved the deepest, but Sho-kun was the one I loved for the longest time. I waited six years to play with him, give or take. I think maybe he’d have loved me too y’know. Too bad Tobio-kun already had his heart. I’m used to being the only one loving anyway. ”
“I didn’t take you on for giving up,” Kiyoomi admits in the silence.
“I didn’t either,” Atsumu laughs, “But you can get your heart broken only so many times.”
Kiyoomi looks at the male sprawled on his floor and leaning against his couch. In the quietness of his apartment, with so many bottles of sake surrounding him, with a faint rueful, melancholic smile gracing his features and teary eyes, Atsumu looks vulnerable like Kiyoomi has never seen before and somehow, without his permission or awareness, his heart aches for the male.
“Do you think you can love again?” Kiyoomi asks, putting down his bottle of sake.
“I don’t know,” Atsumu replies after a moment of consideration, “I might, I mightn’t, who knows? Bigger question, though, is if anyone will choose me first.”
“I’m sure someone will,” Kiyoomi’s lips tilt on its own; “You just need to be hopeful.”
“Hmm,” Atsumu smiles, genuine and open, “We’ll see.”
Atsumu doesn’t fall in love with Sakusa Kiyoomi, and Sakusa Kiyoomi doesn’t fall in love with him. Atsumu doesn’t suffer another fall from grace; he doesn’t feel like his heart has been taken another time. Kiyoomi doesn’t fall in love with Miya Atsumu and Kiyoomi doesn’t pity him for how many times he had his heart broken. Kiyoomi doesn’t try replacing Atsumu’s hurt by any means.
Instead, they play together as teammates; they grow as people and players alike. Instead of falling in love, they become friends and slowly over time, they become each other’s safe havens; instead of falling in love they become best friends, or whatever, because neither will admit to it. They spend days and months and years learning from each other and teaching each other.
Instead of falling in love, they push each other to improve but also hold each other back from overworking; instead of falling in love they watch and analyze opposing teams together and come up with plays to secure their team a victory.
Instead of falling in love they take their time to help each other move forward: Atsumu becomes someone Kiyoomi can touch without his skin crawling, someone who he can rely on to provide him the touches he unbearably craves. Kiyoomi becomes someone who will always have beers and his ears ready to hear Atsumu complain about anything and everything and his mouth prepared to throw jabs at the male when all his defenses are down.
Instead of falling in love they grow together, learn together, laugh together, cry together, and take too much pleasure making fun of each other.
Instead of falling in love, they learn to be a too-blunt asshole and a too big jerk while simultaneously becoming better socially acceptable humans and when the time does come, they fall together and fit into each other like jigsaw pieces,
They don’t ever fall in love, instead as time passes and trust and familiarity grows, they find themselves pulled into each other and to each other like the Earth is to the Sun or the Moon is to the Earth.
They never fall in love because they don’t need to. Instead they choose each other, and this time there isn’t any unrequited pining or heartbreak.
Maybe they fall in love anyway, as absurd as that sounds, but this time there’s no spirals or any insecurities—only a promise to cherish what they have and never let go.