Archive of Our Own ^beta

Something is wrong with Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

Well, something has always been wrong with Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

This, though…. This is different. This was an unwelcome, unwanted feeling settling itself into Kiyoomi’s bones. 

He’s been denying it to himself for some time now, trying to write it off as a manifestation of his other problems. It’s not like he hasn’t felt them before, they’re all typical symptoms that he’s familiar with. Nervousness, sweaty palms, heart palpitations, stomach pain, it’s all normal. 

Except… it’s not. 

It’s the complete opposite of normal. 

His teammates have adjusted to him by now, and they respect his boundaries and his needs. The most they’ll touch him is a slap on the back or a high five that he initiates, and he’s fine with that. Mostly. His teammates don’t make him feel anxious in the way that crowds do, at least.

Then why is he still reacting this way? 

Kiyoomi knows what’s wrong with him. He knows exactly why he’s feeling the way he is, he simply doesn’t want to acknowledge it. 

The internet, fountain of knowledge that it is, says he’s dying when he fruitlessly searches for anything that would give him an answer that wasn’t what he knew this was. Of course, he knew he wasn’t dying and that ruled out just about every search result. 

And yet the alternative is so much worse. 

In fact, Kiyoomi was more inclined to believe that he was dying.

It isn’t exactly something he was hesitant to believe. He had grappled with this issue for some time, both in high school and now. He was not a fickle man, nor was he vulnerable enough to deal with this often, so he wasn’t good with it by any means but he certainly did deal with it however unskillfully he had in the past. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi is in love. 

It was a strange, foreign feeling without a doubt. 

In high school, he had a few passing crushes on his classmates. He never acted on it for a number of reasons though, namely that he was a massive germaphobe and was gay. Because of his lack of action, he managed to effectively suppress most of the crushes he felt. Usually his feelings settled peacefully in a corner of his brain, only getting out of control at very specific and often inopportune times like any time the object of his affection touched him. Or used his shirt to wipe away sweat from his forehead, which was really only a problem every other day of his horrible life. Both elicited wildly different reactions from the “in love” side and the “germaphobe” side of his brain. 

Kiyoomi had fallen for people before, never quite like this though. Before, it would be a subtle thing. A heightened awareness around them, distinctly different from his typical hyperawareness. Where once touch would be completely rejected, the feeling would morph into something strange and twisted that almost anticipated the touch. His heart and his brain battled frequently, between craving and fearing the touch of others. Neither would ever win the battle, there would always be that disconnect between his touch starvation and his fear of germs and intimacy, both feeding the others in a vicious, unending cycle. 

This time was different. 

This time Kiyoomi was seriously affected by it. He was hyper aware of his actions, his words, his movements, and everyone else at the same time. 

So what made this time different? 

Regrettably, he knew the answer to that question. He was always there, taunting him every time he tried to explain it away with something else. 

It wasn’t why was he in love, it was why did it have to be him. 

Miya Atsumu. That’s what was wrong with Kiyoomi. 

Kiyoomi knew he had been harboring these feelings for some time, yet acknowledging it felt like a monumental wall to overcome. It meant being vulnerable even just for a second and admitting to himself that he had feelings for Atsumu. It was heavy, it was commitment, it was… terrifying. He didn’t want to say he was in love, especially not with that jackass. 

What did he even see in that guy, anyways? 

It was only his horribly dyed blond hair, his sharp eyes, his ugly smirk after making some stupid joke like he actually expected Kiyoomi to laugh (which secretly he did every time), his horrible barking laugh that always made Kiyoomi’s heart feel tight, or how cute he looked when he grinned. 

If it weren’t for all that, then there wouldn’t even be anything worth looking at. 

Atsumu was completely different from anyone Kiyoomi had ever had feelings for. He was loud, temperamental, far too smug, unbelievably lame, and the only person who ever managed to get Kiyoomi this broken up. 

He didn’t even know he was doing this to Kiyoomi either. He probably wouldn’t even care if he did know. 

Clearly the universe must have had some sort of personal vendetta against Kiyoomi, or why else would someone like Atsumu be placed in his life? Why else would he fall for him? He’s smug, brash, loud, the complete antithesis to Kiyoomi.

And yet, they’re so similar. There’s a reason they’re on the same team. Their intense competitive drive, their love for volleyball, and their skill level made them perfect teammates. 

Everything about Atsumu had drawn him in, even from the beginning. 

Kiyoomi couldn’t figure out when he started having feelings for Atsumu. Every time he tries to pinpoint when he started feeling… things , his thoughts go back to when they first officially met in high school at the All-Japan youth training camp. That’s when Kiyoomi thinks things really started to go downhill. He didn't exactly stand out compared to the other players there, except for his phenomenal setting abilities. 

Yet despite seeming so forgettable, Atsumu seemed to capture Kiyoomi’s attention more often than not. His personality was magnetizing, and Kiyoomi had little power over his attraction to him. When they played, his eyes would settle on Atsumu more often than not. At the distance they had been at, Kiyoomi wanted to study his form. But now Kiyoomi just wanted to look at him and take in every bit of Atsumu that he possibly could.

Looking back on it, Kiyoomi had probably been nursing a small crush that he chose to ignore at the time. Maybe he had deliberately chosen to ignore it for his own sake. He couldn’t remember all that well. Or maybe it was a crush he had mistaken for a competitive interest, only for them to fade after they went their separate ways.  It had been five years, after all. Crush or not, it wasn’t surprising for those feelings to disappear. And they had. 

That is, until Kiyoomi joined the MSBY Black Jackals. 

As soon as he began trying out for Division 1 teams, old acquaintances from high school began coming out of the woodwork. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, everyone he knew was a volleyball nut. It especially shouldn’t have been a surprise that he ran into Atsumu more times that he’d like to admit. Immediately it became apparent that they both were aiming to be scouted by the Black Jackals. Kiyoomi didn’t think much of it at the time, and he had expected Atsumu to be scouted for someone else. Kiyoomi didn’t care what Atsumu did, though. The Black Jackals were his top pick, so it didn’t matter who else tried out. It’s not like he had any kind of pre-existing relationship with him outside of their entirely competitive acquaintanceship in high school, so there was no history between them.  

He made the deliberate decision to ignore any and all thoughts of Atsumu setting to him, or being able to be on the same team as him. 

Unfortunately, they were pretty frequent. 

It seemed like fate cared more than he did, maybe that was just wishful thinking, because they both ended up on the team. Kiyoomi convinced himself that he didn’t have much of an opinion on it. There was no history between them, he had no reason to feel things. He seemed like a perfectly fine teammate, along with the rest of the Black Jackals. 

Even though he knew of most of his teammates, he couldn’t help his anxiety. He was always anxious around new people. The only other new member was Atsumu, and he seemed to fit right in. He was overly friendly and extremely annoying. 

Despite his behavior, Kiyoomi still noticed some things. 

Atsumu seemed quiet. Quieter than Kiyoomi would’ve expected. From the times he’s seen Atsumu’s matches, he got the vibe that he was a pretty boisterous person. Maybe he wasn’t as over-the-top as certain other players, but it felt wrong. His movements were also uncharacteristically rough, and his tosses were stiff and pathetic. Atsumu had been praised as one of the top setters in the nation for a while, not to mention in high school he was one of the best setters Kiyoomi had the pleasure of playing with. He was fluid and relaxed, even in tense situations. The carefree nature he always had seemed to vanish in thin air. 

He screwed up frequently, and Kiyoomi had never seen this side of him. Atsumu would become distant and even quieter, usually removing himself from the court for a break. Kiyoomi was certainly not unfamiliar with the pain and embarrassment of fucking up, but someone like Atsumu becoming so utterly dejected when he messed up was surprising. 

Kiyoomi never would’ve expected that his confidence was a front. 

It took time, but they adjusted to the team and to each other. Kiyoomi watched as Atsumu relaxed into his position, his confidence returning. He could see it in the way he carried himself. This was the person Kiyoomi assumed Atsumu would be like: Confident, carefree, and smug. He was someone who knew his worth on the court for sure, even if it took him a while to show it to everyone else. 

Atsumu became more comfortable with the team, always teasing and making jokes, slapping their teammates on the back… 

It never seemed to be directed at Kiyoomi. 

Atsumu was more restrained around him. They didn’t really know each other though, so Kiyoomi doubted this was deliberate. Maybe he was just taking extra time to case Kiyoomi out. 

He certainly stared at Kiyoomi enough for it. 

Sometimes when Kiyoomi would look up, he’d lock eyes with Atsumu. It felt strange, he’d never studied this hard before. Even against powerhouse schools that prided themselves on their analytical abilities, Kiyoomi hadn’t felt this scrutinized. 

Atsumu rarely looked away, too. 

It was unnerving, and made it more difficult for Kiyoomi to relax in the new team. He couldn’t help but constantly wonder what Atsumu was thinking. Why was he staring? What was he doing? 

What did he think about Kiyoomi? 

He wanted to go up and ask him point blank to his face what his problem was. 

But Kiyoomi would never do that. 

Eventually the scrutiny stopped, or lessened to a point where Kiyoomi stopped noticing it. Atsumu still stared sometimes, but his behavior towards Kiyoomi had shifted. Kiyoomi started fitting in with the rest of the team little by little, his walls getting weaker. They still stood fast though, unyielding even to the team he was learning to trust. 

Kiyoomi wished he could relax like Atsumu did. 

Even in high school, he hadn’t been fully comfortable around his teammates. Kiyoomi trusted them completely of course, like they had with him, and they were cohesive and strong. It was that trust that made them powerful. Even so, Kiyoomi couldn’t let his guard down around them. He couldn’t let himself out. 

It felt like living in an old house. He could trust that it would keep the rain out, but he still shivered when it got cold. 

Even when the door was open, he couldn’t take that first step. The fear of being rejected by those people who he had come to trust, it was too strong. He’d rather be comfortable but lonely than vulnerable. 

Even with the Jackals, he could tell his old habits were rearing their ugly heads. Even though the door was wide open, he couldn’t break through his own walls. 

Though, that was changing. Slowly but surely. 

As much as he resisted, as much as he tried to separate himself and draw lines between himself and his teammates, they were aggressively taking sledgehammers to his walls.

And leading the charge was Atsumu. 

Whenever Kiyoomi tries to separate himself from the group, Atsumu is there, unceremoniously tearing his walls down and inviting himself into Kiyoomi’s life, dragging him out through that open door. 

As irritating as Kiyoomi wanted to pretend it was, he did like it. 

Like may have been too strong a word, though. He was starting to appreciate it. Which was distinctly different from liking it.

His other teammates went out of their way to invite him to things as well in an attempt to make him feel welcome and included, like he really was part of the team. Which… he was, Kiyoomi knew that he shouldn’t think things like that. He was as much a part of this team as anyone else, and he knew that. They all knew that. 

But was he worth that? 

It was completely different from his experiences in high school. His teammates invited him out and made sure to include him, but it always felt like they were doing it out of obligation rather than a genuine want to spend time with him. Komori was the only one that felt genuine.

Of course, Kiyoomi had been in therapy long enough to know that it was never actually like that, that they all truly did want to spend time with him. But there was still that voice in his head reminding him that they were obligated to spend time with him, that since they were at the same school they wouldn’t be able to avoid Kiyoomi. And it took so much of him to not let that voice poison his memories. 

With the Black Jackals, no one was under any obligation to include him. Why would they be? They’re all adults, they all had lives outside of the team, so for them to make sure to invite Kiyoomi along… It felt nice. There was no voice in his head telling him he didn’t belong, no irrational thoughts to make him feel that way. Or, it was quieter than it had ever been. 

They made him feel like he was worth the effort. It made it easier for him to reciprocate that effort. 

And yet, with Atsumu, the way he forced his way into Kiyoomi’s life was different. It wasn’t like Bokuto or Hinata, who were loud and brash and excitable and whose idea of including Kiyoomi usually meant trying to full body tackle him after he scored a point or invite him to their karaoke nights, or Meian and Oliver whose idea of a night out was a sensible drink at a quiet bar. Even if the latter did seem more appealing. 

Everyone on the Black Jackals was their own brand of weird, Kiyoomi included, but Atsumu was completely different. He carried himself differently, he behaved differently, and he treated Kiyoomi differently than almost anyone had before. 

Atsumu was quiet and calculated. He was devious, and sometimes Kiyoomi thought Atsumu could see all the way into his soul with his piercing brown eyes. The ways he stared at Kiyoomi sometimes were enough to fluster anyone, his sharp and steady gaze lingering for longer than they should, studying and scrutinizing. 

Kiyoomi didn’t think he got treated much differently than the other members. Everything Atsumu did, that was just to make him feel included with everyone else. When he would high five Hinata or Inunaki, Atsumu would just pump his fist at Kiyoomi, or on rare occasions when Kiyoomi was in a good mood, Atsumu would slap his back, making sure to never touch an exposed part of his body. 

It’s those little things that really get to Kiyoomi. Even if it’s the same treatment everyone else gets, it’s those small things, those little gestures that let Kiyoomi know that Atsumu does care about him. 

But even more so, it’s that Kiyoomi has come to like these things. How Atsumu behaves when he’s near Kiyoomi, careful to respect his boundaries. Or how he lets Kiyoomi grab his water bottle or his towel or whatever before anyone else can touch them, how he always seems to worry about Kiyoomi. He thinks Atsumu even started carrying hand sanitizer around for his sake, but maybe he’s just imagining things. 

Kiyoomi isn’t sure if it really means anything, though.

And yet, if Atsumu didn’t care then why would he go to such lengths to accommodate him? 

Atsumu was weird. 

“Omi-kun.” 

Kiyoomi just couldn’t figure out how to handle Atsumu or his own feelings.

When they began to get comfortable around each other, it was almost too much for Kiyoomi to handle. But now that they’ve been teammates for a while and have seen all their personality quirks, Kiyoomi had adjusted to Atsumu. 

And in the same sense, wasn’t Atsumu adjusting to him? 

He tried to ignore his heart skipping a beat at that thought. 

“Omi-kuuun.” 

But could Atsumu actually handle Kiyoomi? Could anyone handle Kiyoomi? His teammates in high school learned how to handle his quirks, and his teammates now were learning how to handle them as well. But it was hard not to think about the future. He could barely even be close to people he trusted, was he worth the effort it would take to build a relationship with him?

He was being awfully optimistic about this whole situation, imagining interest in the first place.  

“Omi-Omi!”

That damn nickname brings him out of his trance, and Kiyoomi realized he’d been zoning out during practice again. He turns to Atsumu, expression blank. Hopefully he hadn’t been emoting without realizing it, though he’s been told he never really emotes anyways. Why bother?  No one can see his face most of the time. 

Atsumu is dangerously observant though, so it’s very possible he would have noticed something. 

He’s standing pretty close to Kiyoomi, he realizes a second later. How long had he been there? How long had Kiyoomi been spacing out for? 

He’s tempted to tell Atsumu he’s too close anyways, but either Atsumu will ignore him and move closer, or he’ll listen and never come close again. 

Kiyoomi doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle the latter. 

“Yer spacin’ out. Everythin’ okay?” Atsumu has one hand on his hip, his head tilted to the side, and his lips drawn into a lazy smirk. It’s like he knows . He has absolutely no right to know what Kiyoomi has been thinking though, so he’d better wipe that smirk off his face. 

But... There's a hint of concern in his eyes, and the way his eyebrows pinch together ever so slightly makes Kiyoomi feel sick. 

“I’m fine.” Kiyoomi isn’t, really. He’s been distracted all practice and just wants to go home and take a shower. Unfortunately, that’s not an option. Atsumu doesn’t need to know that, though. 

“Hm...” Atsumu hums, smiling in his usual, knowing way. He puts a hand on his chin, looking away from Kiyoomi. “If you say so.” 

Why does he always act like he knows something Kiyoomi doesn't.

Before Kiyoomi can even glare at him for the tone of voice he’s taking, Atsumu demands, “We’re doin’ two-on-twos.” What the hell is Atsumu talking about? “Be on my team.” 

Kiyoomi stares at him blankly, then sighs and rubs his forehead to try and get rid of his distracting thoughts. It’s extremely difficult to do that when they’re teammates, though.

“Fine.” Kiyoomi agrees with so little resistance that it surprises even him, then he worries for a second that Atsumu might see right through him. But when Kiyoomi looks at Atsumu, the smug smirk typically plastered across his face melted into something a little more genuine, a little more soft. 

It makes Kiyoomi’s heart skip a beat. He’s never seen Atsumu look this tender before, it’s staggering. 

It vanishes quickly though, as the two prepare to play their two-on-two match against Meian and Hinata. They’re a veritable power pairing, combining Meian’s hard hits and Hinata’s freaky quick movements. Though every pairing in the Black Jackals was powerful, Atsumu and Kiyoomi were especially strong. There’s no way the two of them would lose. 

Each member had unique capabilities that played off of each other and made their cohesive whole that much more powerful, that’s why he thrived well on this team. 

There were undoubtedly combinations that were more powerful than others though, and Kiyoomi thought that himself and Atsumu were one of the most powerful combinations on the team. It couldn’t just be his heart talking, though. Atsumu’s perfect tosses and Kiyoomi’s precise hits meant they weren’t to be taken lightly. They weren’t the top in the nation for nothing. 

Or, formerly the top, in Atsumu’s case. 

Kiyoomi wouldn’t be this strong without his teammates, though. What good was a strong spike if there was no good set?

Kiyoomi wouldn’t be anything without his setter.

His Atsumu. 

Kiyoomi can feel a faint heat rise to his cheeks, glancing at Atsumu out of the corner of his eye. He’s watching the two on the opposite side of the net, so thankfully he doesn’t notice Kiyoomi staring. 

His Atsumu… it had a nice ring to it.

It made Kiyoomi’s chest feel tight, though. He shouldn’t be talking like that, Atsumu doesn’t belong to him. He’ll never belong to Kiyoomi. 

He sighs, trying to brush the thoughts out of his head. He doesn’t have time to be thinking about that, they have a set to win.

-

The practice set lasted for a while, a lot longer than it should have probably, with both sides being powerful and stubborn. As time went on, it was obvious everyone was getting more and more into it, with the ravenous hunger they each possessed starting to bare its fangs. Even though it was only a practice match, the competitive drive in all four of them was pushing them above and beyond the typical. 

Kiyoomi even forgot about the sweat beading on his forehead.

After a particularly long and desperate volley between both sides for match point, Atsumu called out to Kiyoomi with a perfect toss. All of his tosses were good, but sometimes he got it so right that Kiyoomi would have felt chills if he wasn’t so focused on hitting the ball. These perfect sets were everything Kiyoomi looked forward to about playing with Atsumu, and when he jumped it was like time slowed down. 

He could see everything. Hinata and Meian moving in for a block, Atsumu’s awful smirk, the ball slowly spinning into position. It was sets like these that made Kiyoomi feel like he was flying, not just jumping. He swings his arm through the air, and when his palm connects with the ball dead-center, time speeds up again as he slams a nasty cut shot between the two opponents and the net. 

When Kiyoomi lands, he pumps his fist once in a quiet cheer for himself. It always felt good to get the winning spike.

Atsumu cheers much louder as he runs up to Kiyoomi. He gets close, closer than he usually would, but it’s not uncomfortable. Kiyoomi briefly thinks that it should be uncomfortable, but it’s not. “Great job with that, Omi-Omi. Your spikes are so nasty!” He laughs, and it’s hideous but Kiyoomi’s heart skips a beat.

He wishes it would stop doing that. 

The best part about winning is Atsumu’s grin. And the winning part, of course, but Atsumu looks so happy while he plays volleyball. 

He was always smiling, or smirking. Usually his smiles hide something behind them and even if Kiyoomi couldn’t tell what it was, he could tell it was there . But when his facade of some cool-headed smug guy broke and he genuinely smiled, it felt like Kiyoomi was being grabbed by the collar and violently shaken. It was jarring and unexpected every time, catching Kiyoomi off guard in the worst possible ways. 

Atsumu smiled most when playing with Kiyoomi, too. 

He tried not to overthink it. 

Atsumu's smile was unfairly beautiful. 

Kiyoomi rarely smiled when people could see it. He always felt self conscious about it, since he’d been told his smile was ugly before. He tried not to care what strangers thought of him, but the statement still lingers in his mind. It was just another one of his weird quirks, he tries to tell himself. But it was those weird quirks that turned people away. 

Did Atsumu’s ugly personality have the same effect? Or was he the lucky recipient of people’s affection? He probably did. Even though his personality sucked, he seemed like he would’ve been popular. 

Kiyoomi tried not to let his mind wander too far into thoughts about Atsumu being the recipient of confessions and love letters and handmade chocolates. 

Instead of thinking about Atsumu on Valentine’s day, Kiyoomi does something else. He wipes the sweat from his forehead as Atsumu is saying something else about how gross Kiyoomi’s hands are, hesitates for a second, and before his rational brain can kick back in he gently bumps his elbow against Atsumu’s body.

“Good job.” He only touches a clothed part of Atsumu, but the contact sends shockwaves through his body. This is the first time he’s ever deliberately initiated contact with one of his teammates, and it’s dizzying. 

Or maybe it’s only dizzying because it’s Atsumu. Maybe he should test it on Hinata. 

… No, definitely not. Hinata would probably think it means that Kiyoomi was now okay with more physical contact between the two of them, and would try to launch himself at Kiyoomi at any given moment. It was already hard enough to try and avoid him, so definitely not Hinata. Bokuto? No… he’d react the same as Hinata. And Kiyoomi wasn’t really okay with the idea of touching the other members. 

Atsumu was the safest. He wouldn’t take things too far. Probably. He was a good person, and he was one of the first to understand Kiyoomi’s limits and seemed to respect him for it. If he went too far, he would stop if Kiyoomi asked. 

Well, the others would stop too, but with Atsumu it was different. 

The difference is you want Atsumu to touch you.  

The thought comes to him as easily as breathing.

In the past, it hadn’t. It came like a punch to the gut instead. There was still a part of him that didn’t want to be well adjusted to that thought, though. The part of him that kept erecting the walls, the part that still didn’t want to let anyone in. 

But would it really be so bad?

Would it kill him to let Atsumu in? 

Kiyoomi gets out of his head before his thoughts devolve even further, looking at Atsumu. His expression is… upsettingly blank. Kiyoomi can’t get a read on it, which is a first. Atsumu was not one to wear his feelings on his face so readily, but he wasn’t exactly good at hiding them all the time either. Kiyoomi would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for something more. As Kiyoomi tries to get a read, Atsumu’s expression morphs back into his typical fox-like grin. 

Kiyoomi wonders if he’s just imagining it, but Atsumu’s eyes look distressed. 

Maybe touching him was a bad idea. Kiyoomi could feel his thoughts starting to spiral again, telling him to never touch his teammates again, his touch was unwanted, he was unworthy. 

Atsumu’s voice breaks through though, letting Kiyoomi breathe again. 

“That all? Usually you got a bunch’a critiques for me.” Atsumu’s voice was airy and smooth, he looked happy again. Kiyoomi couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at that. He still couldn’t get a read on Atsumu, but he seemed genuinely happy. Which was strange, since Atsumu was usually insufferably smug after winning, starving for praise from anyone around him. It was weird for him to be deflecting the praise happily instead of relishing in Kiyoomi’s sort-of compliment. 

“I can critique you if you want.” Kiyoomi snaps, though there’s no heat behind it. Anyone would be able to tell that, especially Atsumu. 

Maybe he should try harder to disguise his fondness before he ruins everything. 

“Pass.” Atsumu’s face falls back into one of blatant unamusement, and Kiyoomi does feel proud of that. Damaging Atsumu’s ego was always going to be fun. He’s grateful that Atsumu didn’t press further too, because he really didn’t have anything to critique him on this time, which was strange. 

It feels like they played the best they could have, for a practice match with just the two of them. 

It was almost a waste, they should save that energy for a real match. 

Kiyoomi tried to think if there actually was anything he wanted to critique him on, but he couldn’t come up with anything. Not even his personality. Even more than that, Kiyoomi didn’t want to critique him. Seeing Atsumu actually happy during practice did something to Kiyoomi’s heart. 

He wasn’t always happy. His neutral emotion was a defensive smugness, but Kiyoomi didn’t miss the times when Atsumu dropped that mask because of whatever might have happened. A flubbed joke, a missed toss, or some other mysterious thing. 

It was obvious that Atsumu surrounded himself with walls just like Kiyoomi did, but he was better at giving the illusion that he was letting them in, better at sharing just enough about his life that they thought they knew what he was feeling, what was in his head. Enough to make anyone think they knew Atsumu through and through, and that they broke his walls down.

But Atsumu didn’t let people in. If Kiyoomi’s walls were hard concrete protecting him from view, then Atsumu’s walls were made of fragile, opaque glass. He’d let you see enough of his vulnerability to make you believe that you were close and allowed inside, but it was all artificial. It was a deliberate ploy to make those on the outside believe that there was nothing there to break in the first place. 

That didn’t mean the walls weren’t there, though. 

Kiyoomi also knew there were times that Atsumu let his guard down. Whenever Atsumu thought no one was watching, he’d drop his guard for just a brief moment in time, maybe even less than a second. The furrow of his eyebrows, the twitch of the corners of his smirk, the tension of his shoulders. Maybe it was an attempt to allow the feelings to wash over himself in the hope that they would leave afterwards, or to give himself a moment to relax under the pressure he was feeling, a moment to breathe when no one could see him be vulnerable. 

But Kiyoomi saw him. 

Did he ever let his own guard down around their teammates? 

Kiyoomi couldn’t think of a time he had. 

Where Atsumu had kept up appearances, Kiyoomi did not. That was the expectation, though. He’s always been like this. He does put in effort with his teammates though, if he  never allowed himself to get close to anyone then he wouldn’t succeed in a team sport after all. 

His teammates are the first people that he might be okay with letting his guard down around. Maybe he had, already. 

Maybe Atsumu saw what Kiyoomi couldn’t. 

“Thanks, Omi-kun.” The gentleness of Atsumu’s voice seems like too much for a compliment. It didn't have his typical without-a-care tone, and Kiyoomi looks at Atsumu in confusion. His face is completely unreadable though, so Kiyoomi decides to let it go. 

There’s no way he’ll forget how soft Atsumu’s voice sounded though, how tenderly he let Kiyoomi’s name fall off his lips. The damn nickname keeps ringing in his ears, and he feels himself getting dizzy again. 

“Mm.” Kiyoomi nods curtly, watching Atsumu walk away. He definitely seemed like he was carrying himself differently, though. Maybe it’s the pride of winning. 

Maybe it’s because Kiyoomi touched him willingly. 

Ha, he wished. 

-

The four of them take a break while the other pairs finish up their match. Their practice matches always run so much longer than they should. 

Kiyoomi separates himself from the group to go grab his water bottle before he runs the risk of someone else touching it. 

When he turns back, he sees Atsumu talking to Meian and Hinata. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, they’re teammates so it would be lame for Kiyoomi to be upset by that. In fact, he would try and go join their conversation, like a good teammate would. 

What does get to him though, is Hinata says something that makes Atsumu brighten. His face lights up completely and he laughs loud as he playfully ruffles Hinata’s mess of orange hair. 

Kiyoomi feels a sharp stab of jealousy that settles as a dull ache in the pit of his stomach. He gets caught up in his thoughts again, listening to the voices in his head tell him that he shouldn’t feel jealous of Hinata because that’s shitty and he doesn’t want anyone touching his hair anyways, and that Atsumu wouldn’t want to touch his hair in the first place.

You want Atsumu to touch your hair, though. 

Kiyoomi curses his only clear thought in the mess that was his brain for being exactly what he doesn’t want. The idea of anyone touching him like that should make his skin crawl, but… somehow when he imagines Atsumu doing it, his stomach twists up in a knot instead. 

He can pretend all he wants that his stomach twisting like this is because Atsumu touching his hair would be nauseating, but he knows that isn’t the case. He doesn’t even have to look too far for that, it lays on the surface like a note on the fridge. 

Kiyoomi wants to be the object of Atsumu’s affection. 

He wants Atsumu to ruffle his hair, he wants Atsumu to grab his arm, to high five him, to hug him after they win a match, to… 

Every time he gets here, his thoughts melt into a fantasy, different each time. He imagines Atsumu coming up to him and softly running his hands through his hair before brushing Kiyoomi’s bangs back, reaching up to gently pull the medical mask off his face, then cupping his cheek, leaning in and-

Kiyoomi is a mess. 

For who knows how many times that day, Kiyoomi attempts to erase the thoughts from his head by focusing on practice, and he returns to the group. 

He doesn’t miss the way Atsumu smiles when he comes back, though. 

-

Practice runs as long as it always does, which is to say it runs way over when they were supposed to finish. Everything with the Black Jackals takes way longer than it should. It’s been dark out for a while, but as long as Atsumu keeps setting to him, Kiyoomi will keep spiking. Bokuto and Hinata also take part in the extended practice, while the other members mostly watch on in abject horror at just how long their stamina runs. Inunaki does join in with them for a bit to practice his receives, and Meian and Adriah stand off to the side and watch. 

Eventually, Meian and Adriah step in to physically drag everyone off the court before they push themselves to the breaking point. No one really resists, though Hinata and Bokuto look like they could have practiced longer. 

They all do their cool-down stretches in relative silence, until Bokuto sits up suddenly and breaks the peacefulness. “Hey hey! Since we’re all still here, why don’t we go out for drinks?” 

That elicits a response from just about everyone, and they all sit up one by one. Kiyoomi is the last to actually sit up, mostly because he doesn’t want to go out for drinks. He keeps stretching as the others begin to talk, already formulating his plan for how he was going to get out of this outing. 

“That doesn’t sound so bad, as long as we can go somewhere normal.” Meian says, voice deadpan. Kiyoomi smirks a little at that. 

Good luck getting these guys to agree to anything normal. 

Everyone turns to him, and Kiyoomi blinks at that, wondering why they were all staring at him. 

“... Why are you staring at me…” He asks, glancing between everyone. The realization hits him, and his eyes widen softly. He said that outloud, didn’t he. 

“... Was that a joke?” Atsumu is the first to speak, staring at Kiyoomi with wide eyes. Everyone stares at him in shock, probably because this was the first time Kiyoomi had ever openly made a joke. 

It wasn’t like Kiyoomi didn’t have a sense of humor, what was the big deal. It wasn’t even a good joke. 

“No, shut up.” Kiyoomi stands up, determining that he’s finished with his stretching and now desperately wants to leave. It’s embarrassing, but he doesn’t feel the hot wash of shame that he thought he normally would have. 

“Aw, leaving so soon?” Atsumu calls as Kiyoomi retreats to the locker rooms. He hears everyone behind him laugh, but it doesn’t get to him the same way he thought it would. He doesn’t mind that they’re laughing, instead Kiyoomi wants to join in with them. 

Kiyoomi can’t help but smile. 

Everyone keeps talking about their plans for the night, they’re all so loud that Kiyoomi can even hear them while they’re in the locker room. Oliver is in there too, but he’s already finished up and typing something out on his phone. Kiyoomi doesn’t even think he’s noticed him there.

Eventually Oliver leaves, saying a quick goodbye to Kiyoomi as he goes. Kiyoomi nods a goodbye back, then he finally breathes out a sigh when he’s alone. He changes out of his sweaty uniform into his clean tracksuit, which is when he hears a voice. It startles him, but the familiarity is immediately soothing.

“Are ya really leavin’ so soon?” Atsumu asks, leaned against the lockers near Kiyoomi’s, a smirk on his face. It’s soft, and Kiyoomi can tell it’s supposed to be a genuine smile rather than a smirk. If only Atsumu would actually smile. 

“I wanted to pack up before everyone else got in here.” Kiyoomi says bluntly, finishing placing his things in his bag and zipping it up before slinging it over his shoulder. “I want to go home.” 

“Why don’t ya come out with us?” Atsumu doesn’t move from his spot, but the smirk is gone and his gaze is soft. It lingers on Kiyoomi in a way that he doesn’t want to think about.

It makes him want to say yes. 

It’s not really a question. It’s an invitation, only softened by adding the questioning tone. It’s painfully obvious that Atsumu is trying to make it easy for Kiyoomi to decline. 

But it only makes him want to say yes even more.

Being invited is such a nice feeling. 

Kiyoomi shifts back and forth on his feet for a second. For the first time in his life he’s actually considering going out with his teammates on his own accord, without being forced. He’s tired, he wants to shower, and most of all he wants to go to bed and pretend like he’s going to sleep but instead lie awake for three more hours than normal, thinking about all the times Atsumu has smiled at him. 

He so rarely goes out with the team though, and alcohol sounds really, really nice right now. Plus it’s good team building to actually spend time with them. 

There’s still a small voice in his head telling him to say no, though. So he deflects in the only way he knows how. “I’m no fun.”

“Hey, that ain’t true.” Atsumu grins. “If ya don’t come, who’s gonna make fun of Hinata with me?” 

The rest of his words have a light teasing tone to them, but the first thing he said gets to Kiyoomi. His voice was so soft, so genuine, so fond that it makes Kiyoomi’s chest tighten. 

Those four words should not be making his heart skip a beat. 

Atsumu really had an incredible ability to make Kiyoomi believe he was pleasant to be around. 

Kiyoomi sighs. He’s giving in way too easily to Atsumu. He should put up more of a fight, but he’s scared that if he keeps pushing then he’ll push Atsumu away. 

He doesn't want Atsumu to leave. “Fine, but only for a bit. I can’t go that long without showering.” 

Atsumu is silent for a while, so Kiyoomi risks a glance in his direction. Then, he does a double take. Atsumu looks completely shocked. It’s not an unwelcome expression, his eyes are wide and his lips are parted, and it feels nice to have Atsumu stare at him so blatantly.

“What.” Kiyoomi demands, voice carefully deadpan as he adjusts the bag on his shoulder.

“I-” Atsumu has the audacity to blush . It’s faint, just a hint of pink on the apples of his cheeks, but Kiyoomi sees it all the same. “I didn’t expect ya to agree that easy, I had a whole arsenal of things I was gonna try an’ use to get ya to come out with us.” 

“Well, save them for next time.” Kiyoomi says, putting a mask over his face before he moves past Atsumu, leaving the locker room. Their arms brush briefly, and he tries not to think about how the contact feels electric. 

Thankfully, Meian and Inunaki manage to convince Bokuto and Hinata to go somewhere tasteful and quiet. Kiyoomi knows it wasn’t for his sake, but if they ended up going to some kind of club he would have just gone home.

Leave it to the well-adjusted adults to have taste. 

It takes them a while to actually get to the bar, mostly because getting the Black Jackals to go anywhere is like herding cats. 

Before Kiyoomi probably would’ve thought it was annoying. But now, he thinks it’s fun. Even if it takes them double the time to get anywhere, watching his teammates fuck around and get distracted makes him feel fond. 

The bar they go to is pretty small, and the crowd inside mostly seems like the post-work crowd trying to unwind with a drink. Their party is the biggest group of people in the bar at seven people strong. Kiyoomi silently apologizes to them on behalf of the whole group. 

The only place in the bar they’ll all be able to fit is a booth in the back. 

Kiyoomi regrets coming. 

They manage to work it out before Kiyoomi can leave sadly. Inunaki and Adriah slide into the very inside, with Inunaki in Adriah’s lap. Why Inunaki is in his lap is none of Kiyoomi’s business, but if subtlety is what they’re going for then they’re failing miserably. Bokuto and Hinata sit next to them, and Meian, Atsumu, and Kiyoomi take the other side. He doesn’t have anyone to his right, which is good because he couldn’t handle being sandwiched between anyone. But there’s always something with this shit. 

Atsumu is right next to him. 

He couldn’t focus with how close they had to be pressed together, it was way too small to fit all of them comfortably. Kiyoomi shifted so his legs were mostly outside of the booth, but Atsumu only spread out wider. 

Asshole. 

Kiyoomi can feel how warm Atsumu is where their thighs press together, and he swears he can smell him. 

He didn’t smell like sweat, he must have applied some cologne before they left. It was pleasant, vaguely earthy and sweet. He wanted to lean in and rest his head on Atsumu’s shoulder, grounding himself in the scent.  

He doesn’t even mind having Atsumu pressed against him.

He needed a drink so badly. 

Kiyoomi was reluctant to take his mask off in the bar, there were enough people around that he felt nervous. Not to mention if he thinks too long about putting his lips on a cup that's been used by who knows who else, he starts to freak out. But after everything he’s been through today and is currently going through, he orders himself a beer. He has enough sanitary wipes in his pocket that he can just wipe the mug down himself, germs be damned. 

Unfortunately, as everyone else drinks around him, one beer turns into three, and his face is starting to feel hot. Bokuto and Hinata are regaling them with some stories about… something. Kiyoomi can’t really follow them, they’re so loud and so energetic and they talk so fast, and half of what they say is sound effects. Probably something about a setter? Not Atsumu, though. A different one. Their high school setters? Maybe. 

Does everyone fall in love with their setter, or what? 

His head is swimming, and touching Atsumu this much was doing something to his head. It’s absolutely impossible for him to focus on anything his teammates are saying when he’s so overwhelmed by the feeling of Atsumu’s side pressed against him. He thinks Atsumu keeps glancing at him too, but Kiyoomi is too much of a mess to want to confirm that.

He decides to cut himself off after he finishes his third beer, nursing a cup of water as everyone keeps drinking. His head starts to feel less like it’s swimming, but everything else starts to feel more overwhelming. 

Definitely a sign it’s time to go home. A valiant effort was made to spend time with his teammates, and as far as Kiyoomi was concerned, it was a success. 

As soon as there’s a lull in the conversation, Kiyoomi excuses himself. He stands shakily, but manages to regain his balance. Standing up makes him feel more sober thankfully, and he’s not actually that drunk. His teammates all offer to walk home with him, but they’ve definitely drunken more than he has so he declines. He was not ready to be on babysitting duty. 

He says his goodbyes, and as Kiyoomi is leaving, he glances at Atsumu. He regrets it, because Atsumu is just staring at him. He looks vaguely disappointed, but he doesn’t take his gaze off of Kiyoomi. It feels like everything around them is frozen for just a second, until Kiyoomi pulls away and leaves. 

As soon as he’s outside, he takes a deep breath. The air outside is cool and Kiyoomi shivers. It was so much warmer inside the bar, he almost feels like he’s underdressed even though it’s not actually that cold outside. Once he starts to calm down a bit, he puts a mask on and starts walking. 

Kiyoomi doesn’t make it very far before a voice calls out to him. It makes him jolt, but the familiarity immediately relaxes him. 

This seems to be happening a lot these days. 

“Omi~kun~” Atsumu calls as he comes up behind him, and a big part of Kiyoomi wants Atsumu to put his arm around his waist. He can’t even care about how easily the thought enters his mind, they had been touching so much in the bar that he almost feels desensitized. He just wants to feel Atsumu’s warmth again.

“Miya-san.” Kiyoomi looks at Atsumu, a blank expression on his face. “What do you want?” 

“Let’s walk back together.” Atsumu grins at him, and like so many of the other times he’s smiled at Kiyoomi, it’s so tender it makes his heart ache. “I’m done drinkin’ too.” 

Atsumu can’t keep getting away with this. 

“Fine.” Kiyoomi says with no resistance. Arguing with Atsumu right now would be pointless. 

A (huge) part of him wants to walk alone with Atsumu anyways.

They both begin walking together in silence, and Kiyoomi agonizes in his head over what to say the entire time. He’s never been one to start the conversation, or one to want a conversation in the first place. But if he stays silent around Atsumu, he’s going to have a heart attack. 

“Hey, Omi-kun...” Atsumu breaks the silence first, his breath visible in the cold air. He sounds uncomfortably distant, and he doesn’t say anything afterwards for a long moment. The only thing Kiyoomi can hear is his heart pounding in his chest. “You’ve been distracted lately, y’know.” 

A tiny jolt shoots up Kiyoomi’s spine, and he stares forward to avoid looking at Atsumu. Kiyoomi knew he had been distracted during practice lately, but hearing Atsumu say it made it feel all too real, since he was the reason Kiyoomi had been so distracted. 

“Mm… I’m fine.” Kiyoomi mutters. There’s no one else on the street since it’s so late. It feels strangely intimate, and Kiyoomi can’t deny he feels nervous. Really nervous. 

Would it be so bad if he knew? 

It wouldn’t, really, but… 

What if he hates you for it?

“You sure? Cause ya don’t seem fine.” Atsumu’s voice is closer somehow, and much more clear. 

Kiyoomi wishes it weren’t. “What do you mean?” It’s taking so much to keep his tone neutral and stable, his voice threatening to waver with every syllable. 

“Ya never get distracted during practice. You’ve missed like, four received in the past week alone.” Atsumu says, the faintest hint of annoyance in his voice. Then, it drops into something soft and quiet. He sounds sad. “That doesn’t happen to my Omi-Omi.” 

Kiyoomi almost collapses, but he demands his knees to stay strong. He has not played volleyball for 90% of his life just to collapse because Miya Atsumu of all people called him his fucking Omi-Omi . 

He doesn’t even sound drunk.

“I’m fine.” He repeats, the faintest of waver to his voice. He knows Atsumu heard it. “I'll be more present during practice.” 

Atsumu stops suddenly, surprising Kiyoomi into stopping too. He looks at Atsumu, raising a questioning eyebrow. 

“If somethin’s wrong, you can tell me Sakusa.” Atsumu sounds like he’s pleading. The way he says his family name sounds wrong. He wants to beg Atsumu to go back to the nicknames, they feel less intimate. 

It makes Kiyoomi want to open up. 

“I want you to feel comfortable around me.” Atsumu steps closer, and Kiyoomi demands his body to not recoil. If he pulls away, Atsumu will stop. “I want you to… rely on me. You can count on me, you know?” 

Kiyoomi does know, Atsumu has proved over and over again that Kiyoomi can rely on him, that he can be comfortable around him. 

It’s why Kiyoomi fell in love with him, after all. 

But he can’t tell him, there’s no way he can tell Atsumu. At the same time, he wants to trust Atsumu with his feelings. He wants to be vulnerable, for the first time in his life. He wants to let him in, he wants… he wants to be close to Atsumu. Kiyoomi looks down at the ground. 

Kiyoomi suddenly feels very sober, very quickly. 

If he told Atsumu, would he be disgusted with him? Would he leave? Would Kiyoomi be able to see him again?

Would they still be able to play volleyball together? 

Would they still be friends? 

“Kiyoomi.” Atsumu’s voice is soft, and he’s so painfully close that Kiyoomi feels like he’s getting choked up. He doesn’t have to speak louder than a whisper, and it sounds the way Kiyoomi imagines it would feel to be held by Atsumu. 

For once, every muscle in his body is screaming at him to lean in, to grab Atsumu and never let go. 

He realizes a fraction too late that this is the first time Atsumu has ever said his full name. The way it sounded on his lips, it was like it was the only name he had ever uttered. 

The way he said it with so much love, it made Kiyoomi’s words die in his throat.

He felt like he might cry. 

Kiyoomi looks up at Atsumu, and when he sees his face the wind gets knocked out of him. 

Atsumu looks so stunning, with the street lights illuminating his face in an ethereal way. Kiyoomi wants to take a picture, or memorize it, or commission a painting of it. Anything to be able to see it for the rest of his life. His gaze is sharp and he’s focused only on Kiyoomi. His cheeks are pink and his lips are softly parted, and Kiyoomi watches him swallow, pressing his lips together softly only to part them again.

Kiyoomi opens his mouth, ready to half-heartedly mutter that Atsumu is far too close without actually meaning it. But before the syllable can even form in his throat, there’s a soft pressure on his lips. 

Atsumu’s eyes are gently closed, and Kiyoomi feels like he’s going to collapse when he realizes they’re kissing. He can feel the ghosts of Atsumu’s hands over his body, seeking purchase, but he never touches him. 

That kills Kiyoomi more than the kiss does. 

Fuck, they’re kissing. 

Atsumu is kissing him, actually. Kiyoomi is too stunned to return the kiss, but he wants to kiss him back so badly. He’s wanted to kiss Atsumu for so long, but he can’t, he can’t, he can’t. 

Why?

Why can’t he have this? 

Why can’t he have Atsumu? 

Kiyoomi doesn’t even know how long they’re kissing before Atsumu is pulling away. It feels like an eternity, yet not long enough. 

This isn’t supposed to happen. 

Atsumu isn’t supposed to love him. 

He can still feel the warmth from Atsumu’s lips lingering through his mask. It hurts, watching him pull away. He wants to reach out and grab him by the shirt front, and never let go. 

Kiyoomi looks at Atsumu finally, and he looks destroyed. His confident, smug wall is cracking right in front of Kiyoomi’s eyes, and he can’t even appreciate it because he’s too busy thinking about how warm Atsumu’s mouth felt and how nice it would be to kiss him without the mask in the way. 

He could do that, he could yank his mask off and grab Atsumu, dragging him back in and crushing their lips together. He could kiss Atsumu until their lips are raw, until they’re both too dazed to do anything but stare into each other’s eyes. 

But instead, Kiyoomi stands there, stock still. Atsumu stares at him in stunned silence, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to form the words. There’s a horrible, heart-wrenching shine in his eyes that makes Kiyoomi want to step into oncoming traffic. But there aren’t any cars on the road. 

He should grab Atsumu, he should hold his face and kiss him until Atsumu understands just how much Kiyoomi cares about him. 

He shouldn’t let Atsumu go.

But he can’t. 

Why? 

Why why why why why-

“Well, I. Um. C-cool.” Atsumu’s voice is completely broken. He’s stuttering, his confidence completely shattered leaving him surrounded by broken bits of his glass walls that dig into his skin. Regret is painfully visible on his face. 

Kiyoomi knows this look well. 

It’s the worst thing he's ever had the displeasure of seeing. 

Atsumu won’t look at him. Kiyoomi watches as he bites down hard on his lip to keep the tears back, but he can see them building up in the corners of his eyes. 

Watching Atsumu cry fucking sucks. 

He reaches his breaking point, and when Kiyoomi sees one tear roll down his cheek, Atsumu turns around and runs. 

Kiyoomi’s body jolts, his instincts telling him to chase Atsumu and grab his hands and keep him there, then actually tell him how he feels. 

But he can’t. 

Kiyoomi can’t allow himself to be loved. 

He can’t move, forced to watch Atsumu’s figure retreating into the night. Forced to watch Atsumu leave. 

He never looks back. 

Something hot rolls down Kiyoomi’s cheeks, and soaks into the mask on his face, and Kiyoomi realizes that he’s crying. He looks down at his cold, empty hands. 

The sadness clawing its way up to his throat makes Kiyoomi realize he never could have pretended, he never could have ignored his feelings and assumed they would’ve gone away on their own. 

Kiyoomi sobs, and he sobs, and he sobs. 

-

Kiyoomi has no idea how long he’s been standing there, but the tears have stopped coming. Atsumu is long gone, who knows where he went, and Kiyoomi can’t stop thinking about him, about the kiss, about how sad he looked when Kiyoomi didn’t kiss back. 

That was his fault. 

He caused Atsumu to look like that. 

Could he not fix this? Would Atsumu hear him out?

He couldn’t have abandoned his feelings that quickly, right? He wasn’t that kind of person… Would Kiyoomi see him again at practice? Would he run again?

Would he still be able to love Kiyoomi? 

-

After a night of restless, nightmare filled sleep, Kiyoomi spends his day off laying around his apartment, wallowing in his own feelings. He can’t help but replay the moment from the night before over and over and over again, reminding himself constantly about what he did, and how he had hurt Atsumu. 

Atsumu had kissed him. Atsumu had kissed him. Every second he spent thinking about it, every time he thought about the fleeting feeling of Atsumu’s lips on his own, it drove him wild. He wanted to feel Atsumu’s hands on him and to feel their lips against each other’s. 

He wanted to be held by Atsumu more than anything. 

It scared him. It fucking terrified Kiyoomi, to be the recipient of Atsumu’s love. 

To actually want Atsumu’s love, more than anything. 

How was he supposed to deal with that?

Kiyoomi’s phone sat silent on the table, next to a mostly empty cup of black coffee and a plate with some crumbs on it from his half-assed breakfast of a single piece of toast in an attempt to actually eat something. 

He was really letting himself go over this. 

He grabs his phone, staring at the lock screen for way too long before typing his password in and opening his messages app. He immediately pulls up his message history with Atsumu, but his fingers stop working there. 

What would he even say? That he’s sorry? That would just make things worse. Probably. 

He’s never felt like this about anyone, to the point where he was always at a loss for words. If he said anything, would Atsumu even respond? He types out several long winded messages and a handful of short ones, but in the end he deletes them all. 

As it had been all day, Kiyoomi’s mind drifts back to Atsumu. What was he doing right now? Was he also locked in his apartment like Kiyoomi was, wallowing in self pity and depression? Was he regretting it, wishing he had never kissed Kiyoomi to begin with? 

Was he crying still?

There was no way Atsumu wasn’t still hurting. Causing Atsumu that much pain felt like a knife being twisted into Kiyoomi’s skin. 

He can’t erase how crushed Atsumu looked in his mind, the image was burned into his head. The way his shoulder sagged, and his lips parted, how the tears looked welled up in his eyes...

Kiyoomi did that. He made Atsumu look like that. 

It wasn’t long before he started catastrophizing. Slowly, slowly, the thoughts started to creep their way into his mind. What if he had only done that because he was drunk? What if he didn’t really feel like that, and just wanted to get a rise out of Kiyoomi? What if he thought Kiyoomi was someone else, like Hinata?

What if Atsumu would already be gone by Monday?

What would Kiyoomi do then?

Well, he had Atsumu’s phone number, so he could track him down that way, and Atsumu probably wasn’t that efficient at erasing himself from someone’s life, but what if? 

What if he never saw Atsumu again? 

Or, worse, what if Atsumu hated him, what if he never wanted to kiss Kiyoomi again? 

It was painful, and the longer Kiyoomi spent alone, the more painful everything became.  

Monday couldn’t come fast enough.

-

The following day, Kiyoomi hurries to practice. It’s the fastest he’s ever run, and he’ll be exhausted by the time he gets there, but he has to see Atsumu. He has to talk to him. 

Of course, things don’t go that easy. 

Atsumu doesn’t even show up until right after practice starts. He’s never been late before, so it’s obviously out of the ordinary. 

He’s avoiding Kiyoomi. 

That hurts, but it’s his fault.

Nothing changes during practice, either. Atsumu ignores him the entire time, only setting to him when necessary. Every toss was so pathetic that Kiyoomi missed most of them, and the rest of the team was starting to notice the rift. 

Kiyoomi could see them glance at each other, but no one said anything. 

Kiyoomi even tries to approach him. And by approach he means glare at him from a distance, which definitely makes things worse. 

But Atsumu deliberately ignored him, which made him so angry. 

It didn’t change the next day, or the next day, or the next. Each day, Kiyoomi saw the walls going up again. He saw the defensive behavior, he saw the deliberate avoidance of going out with the teammates or doing anything outside of practice, making flimsy excuses to get out of socializing. 

Kiyoomi saw himself in Atsumu. 

He saw that he was the reason Atsumu was building his walls back up, hiding behind them for any semblance of safety, to keep their friends from realizing how much pain he was going through. He was distancing himself from everyone. 

And it pissed Kiyoomi off. After all that work he had put in to getting along with Atsumu, it’s all ruined because of a stupid kiss. 

But the kiss wasn’t stupid, and this was Kiyoomi’s fault. He had no one to blame but himself. 

By the end of the week, Kiyoomi had hit his limit. He was going to…

What was he going to do? Confess? Yeah that might work. 

It reached its boiling point once practice ended. Atsumu hadn’t even made a pathetic attempt to toss to Kiyoomi the entire time, even though there had been plenty of opportunities. He stubbornly refused to toss to Kiyoomi, and that hurt. 

Personal feelings aside, Atsumu couldn’t ignore him forever. 

Atsumu was hanging around along one of the walls, obviously waiting for everyone to leave. 

Everyone meaning Kiyoomi, of course. 

He stalks up to Atsumu, stopping right in front of him. Everyone else seems to freeze and turn their attention on the two of them. 

“ What is your problem?” He hisses through gritted teeth, wanting to grab Atsumu by the collar and demand an answer. 

Did he deserve an answer?

Atsumu’s face immediately morphs into something unknown to Kiyoomi, and it’s terrifying. It’s a gut-wrenching combination of disgust, sadness, and fear, and Kiyoomi hates it.

He regrets doing this, he knows it’s not the way he should’ve done it, but Atsumu makes him so angry sometimes. 

“My problem is you, Sakusa.” Atsumu reaches out and places his hand on Kiyoomi’s chest, pushing him back. The touch is firm, yet featherlight, and Kiyoomi can feel the imprint of his hand burning on his chest. 

Kiyoomi stares at him, studying his face for a second before clicking his tongue in annoyance and turning away. How could he say that? 

How could he mean it? 

Aren’t you being hypocritical? 

He pauses, and inhales shakily. He is being an ass about this. This isn’t fair to Atsumu. Kiyoomi has no room to be frustrated with Atsumu when he himself hasn’t done anything to fix this. It’s his fault in the first place after all, and instead he chooses to make things worse. 

He ignores everyone around him, hurrying to the locker room. He packs his things up inhumanly quick, and leaves the gym before anyone can talk to him. 

Once he’s outside, he stops again. 

What is he doing?

Why is he so afraid of love? 

He looks up at the sky, which is beginning to fade into a creamy orange in the afternoon. Practice ended early. Was that his fault? 

Kiyoomi isn’t sure how long he stands there, he’s unsure of so much lately. Eventually he feels a hand on his shoulder, and he realizes after a moment that he doesn’t doesn’t even mind it. 

Hinata is standing there with a soft, pitying smile on his face. 

“He’s still in there, Omi-kun.” It’s all he says, and Kiyoomi watches him leave. The rest of their teammates are probably gone, too. 

Kiyoomi knows what he needs to do. 

He can’t run anymore. 

He goes back inside, and no one else is there. Kiyoomi was right in assuming everyone had left already, and he’s so eternally grateful for that. He breathes in, then begins to walk towards the locker room. Every step feels like he’s dragging himself through knee-deep mud, almost every cell in his body begging him to stop and turn around. 

Only his heart tells him to keep going. 

He’s absolutely terrified. 

Once he reaches the locker room, he hesitates. The door is open, and he can hear Atsumu inside. There’s quiet shuffling, he’s probably packing up. Kiyoomi hears a heavy sigh, then all of the sounds stop except for the quiet creak of a bench beneath someone’s weight.

Kiyoomi swallows thickly, attempts to take a deep breath to calm his nerves and his speeding heart, then he steps in through the threshold. 

Atsumu is sitting on one of the far benches, the bag next to him half open with its contents strewn about, almost like he had been searching for something. A white towel hands over his head as he slouches, staring at the floor. He doesn’t seem to realize someone’s entered the locker room. 

Kiyoomi licks his lips before inhaling softly to speak, but the words die in his throat before they can form. 

Atsumu is crying. 

It’s soft, and it hurts Kiyoomi to hear. Atsumu’s shoulders shake with his quiet sobs, and eventually he brings a hand up to wipe away his tears. 

Kiyoomi is awful at comforting people in the first place, and knowing that he’s the reason Atsumu is crying in the first place makes it so much more difficult to speak. 

There’s still a voice in him telling him to leave, but he can’t. 

He swallows again, the sound echoing in his ears. 

“Miya-san.” His voice comes out so much softer than he anticipated, and it shakes with nerves. 

Atsumu’s entire body flinches away, and the soft sobs go completely quiet. Neither of them move for a bit, until Kiyoomi can see Atsumu’s fingers start to twitch. It’s a nervous tick Atsumu has, and it makes Kiyoomi long to hold his hands, to relax both the twitching and Atsumu’s nerves. 

He’s quiet for a while, until he mutters, “.... Sakusa,” without lifting his head.  

The lack of a trademark nickname upsets Kiyoomi. It only reminds him that he’s created a rift between them. No Omi-kun, no Omi-Omi… no Kiyoomi. He’s become fond of the nicknames Atsumu gives him. 

Even more than that, Kiyoomi has fallen in love with the way Atsumu says his name. 

He steps closer, now right in front of Atsumu. “Look at me.” He demands, but his voice is soft. His confidence is slowly starting to work its way back into his voice, but he still feels so nervous. He can’t screw things up again.

This is his last chance. 

Atsumu looks up at him, the towel falling off his head and onto his shoulders. His eyes are red, his face looks wet, and he looks so defeated. Kiyoomi just wants to drop to his knees, take Atsumu’s face in his hands, and show him how much he loves Atsumu. 

“Please, let me make things right.” Kiyoomi begs, voice desperate. 

Atsumu’s eyes widen slightly, then he clicks his tongue and looks away. The hands on his thighs are still twitching. “What could you possibly do?” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. 

Kiyoomi drops his bag to the ground, then does what he’s wanted to do since he saw Atsumu. He drops to his knees in front of him. “Please, Atsumu.” His voice is quiet. The way Atsumu’s name falls off his lips feels like a prayer, reverent yet desperate. 

They stare into each other’s eyes for a while, Kiyoomi desperately seeking any sign that Atsumu is willing to give him a chance, willing to forgive him for being so desperately afraid of being loved. 

Once he finds it, the sky outside has turned to a deep orange color, the clouds hanging in the sky like cotton candy. 

“Why did you kiss me?” Kiyoomi stares up at him, his voice quiet. It feels unfair to ask Atsumu that question when he knows the answer. 

Atsumu looks away from him, his hands tensing on his thighs. Kiyoomi looks down to watch his fingers dig into the fabric of his track pants. He wants to take his hands, gently rubbing the tension out with his fingers, feeling how rough and calloused and strong Atsumu’s hands are. He wants to run his fingers over his knuckles, feeling every bend. He wants to press delicate kisses to the tops of his fingers, and feel how they fit when laced with his own. 

Kiyoomi wants to be the only person who knows every inch of Atsumu’s hands. 

So he reaches out. 

He places his hands over Atsumu’s, giving him space to pull away if he wants to. Kiyoomi never would’ve imagined himself in this situation, actively offering physical contact and giving the other person space to pull away. He’d expect, or even hope, that for himself, so it felt foreign and weird. Atsumu flips his hands around though, gripping Kiyoomi’s tight. He can feel Atsumu’s hands twitch against his, so he gently rubs his thumb along his fingers in an attempt to calm his nerves. 

Atsumu stays silent for a while, and when Kiyoomi looks back up at him, he can see the gears turning in his head. He knows that Atsumu is weighing his words carefully, something he rarely does. It’s strange to see him thinking so carefully about this situation. Kiyoomi likes the way he blurts stupid shit out without thinking, yet overthinks everything at the same time. It’s endearing.  

“Do I really haf’t answer that…'' Atsumu says after a moment that felt like an eon, his voice soft and broken. He looks down at Kiyoomi again, an uncharacteristic shine visible in his eyes. It makes Kiyoomi’s heart hurt. 

Kiyoomi licks his lips, choosing his own words just as carefully. He doesn’t look away from Atsumu. “I want you to tell me.” He wants to hear it, he needs to hear Atsumu say it. 

“Because, I like you.” Atsumu says, voice strained and threatening to break. 

Kiyoomi leans in and closes the distance between them. 

The way their lips fit together is so much different from their first kiss. It helps that Kiyoomi isn’t wearing a mask this time, he can feel Atsumu’s lips tremble beneath his own. It’s a real kiss, not some fleeting, hesitant kiss like last time. Atsumu’s grip on Kiyoomi’s hands tighten, and the twitching finally stops. They both lean into the kiss more, and Kiyoomi presses closer between Atsumu’s legs. 

There’s still a huge part of him desperate to pull away, desperate to stop the contact and leave again. But kissing Atsumu numbs that part of him, just for a short while. 

They pull away after a while, both breathless. Atsumu makes a soft noise, but before he can speak Kiyoomi cuts him off. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, barely above a whisper. 

“Why didn’t you kiss back the first time?” Atsumu asks, untangling their hands to cup Kiyoomi’s cheek. He pulls it away though, eyebrows knitting together as if to ask if it was okay. Kiyoomi responds by putting Atsumu’s hand back on his cheek for him. 

“I was scared..” Kiyoomi admits, and just saying it feels like a weight is being lifted from his shoulders. “I was scared of letting myself be loved.” 

Atsumu stares at him, biting his lip softly in thought, before softly stroking Kiyoomi’s cheek with his thumb. “You shouldn’t be afraid, you deserve love. I fell in love with you for you, after all.” 

Kiyoomi stares at him, eyes wide at the confession. It’s so… simple, he can’t help but laugh at it. There’s something so refreshing, so… calming, about Atsumu saying that he loves Kiyoomi for who he is. He doesn’t even really know why he’s laughing, he just is. Atsumu is staring at him, Kiyoomi knows this, but he can’t help it. 

It’s just so elating to know that Atsumu loves him. Him. Sakusa Kiyoomi, weird quirks and all. 

“Geez, Kiyoomi…” Atsumu’s chuckles, his voice soft and nervous sounding. “If you had smiled like that before now I might’ve fallen for ya even quicker.” 

That makes Kiyoomi’s laughter die in his throat, and he turns away as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. Old habits die hard, and he can’t help but cover his smile when he’s embarrassed. The way Atsumu says his name so softly, so absolutely lovingly , it’s ruining Kiyoomi. His stomach feels like it’s twisting up, but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to be sick. He just feels completely flustered, and he knows that if he says something it’ll come out so messy and awful and embarrassing, so he decides not to say anything at all. 

Instead, Kiyoomi grabs Atsumu’s jaw and pulls him in for another soft kiss. It’s different from before, the two of them are much more confident, and Atsumu even moves his hand back into Kiyoomi’s hair. The touch makes him melt, and he leans into the kiss even more. 

He never wants to pull away. 

Eventually they do, even more breathless than last time. 

Outside, the sky is a rich orange, beginning to fade into a murky purple as the sun sets. Kiyoomi waits as Atsumu finishes packing his bag up. They kiss three or four more times while Atsumu tries to pack, making it take even longer. Kiyoomi doesn’t mind though. 

He could get used to being loved by Atsumu. 

Kiyoomi takes Atsumu’s hand in his own, and the two of them leave the locker room together.