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Sakusa Kiyoomi isn’t really one like the others. He doesn’t find himself laughing distinctively amongst the chorus of voices like Hinata Shoyou does, or standing up charismatically in the sea of faces like Bokuto Koutarou does. He doesn’t love the same way Atsumu Miya does.
They had very different ways of thinking — thinking about life, love, life and love. There are nights that Sakusa sleeps in Atsumu’s larger arms, purple butterflies and flowers painted on their bodily canvases, courtesy of each other. On those nights, Sakusa thinks.
He thinks if he was really in love with Miya Atsumu, or did he just give in to the status quo ideology of love. Atsumu knows he is in love with Sakusa Kiyoomi, but Sakusa doesn’t know if his partner then actually knew what love was about.
Sakusa Kiyoomi never thought of himself in a position of being loved. He thinks that if romantic love is a relationship connected by a red string, then the relationship between parents and children is bound in rigid chains. Which was why he couldn’t actually escape from the bondages that didn’t even have much of an impact on his life, physically, to say the least.
So when Atsumu Miya and Sakusa Kiyoomi find themselves in an argument, Sakusa’s first thought diverts to ‘we’re fighting because we don’t love each other anymore. Did we even love each other to begin with?’
He can’t help it. He never knew what love actually was — he never really believed in the authenticity of love. He thought Atsumu would be able to show him the ropes. But what he got in return was more questions. They were the same people — the same Miya Atsumu and same Sakusa Kiyoomi, but things were changing.
The earth orbits and stars align differently every single second without us noticing. We change without our own perceived selves noticing.
Sakusa didn’t even realise it at first, but he just used Atsumu to fuel his exasperation with the inferiority that was eating him alive, unbeknownst to him. Slowly, but surely, he didn’t care for the way his partner ate (did he actually realise, though?); his slovenly appearance at home filled him with revulsion, and even his snoring set him off. Even though until a few months ago, none of it had ever bothered him before (or did it?).
The red string that held the both of them together was slowly ripping apart, but there was only one person trying to hold it together. And it wasn’t Sakusa Kiyoomi.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t Sakusa who initiated the breakup. It was Atsumu. It took him awhile, but he finally begins to think for himself . He thinks about the painful truth that Sakusa Kiyoomi wasn’t in love with him (anymore?) (to begin with?).
“I don’t think we are looking eye to eye on a lot of things right now, Kiyoomi,” is what comes out of his mouth instead, a sad smile on his face. There’s red rum in both their glasses, and they are sitting opposite each other at the kitchen counter. “Let’s just take this as a break now. I need to get myself together anyway.”
Sakusa just nods his head. That’s when Atsumu finally knows. He knows the painful truth that Sakusa Kiyoomi wasn’t in love with him. Hey there Delilah plays is the only filling in the void of silence. Atsumu knows the song won’t sound the same to him from now on.
But it was all alright. Playing on the same team was surprisingly easy for both of them (so it seems to Sakusa, and only Sakusa). Hinata and Bokuto were seemingly the most worried, and seeing both Sakusa and Atsumu being their usual selves (for the latter: only on the outside) only raised their fears for some reason.
Sakusa Kiyoomi was right about one thing, though: there was nobody after Atsumu Miya. He knows that Atsumu has dated more than one in a span of a year, but he estimates that it’s been about three to four months for each.
(why was he keeping track, again?)
Sakusa doesn’t know why he thinks a lot more about Atsumu only after they broke up. He thinks about what they had. He thinks about the taste of Atsumu’s mouth after a night of steak and wine. He thinks about how Atsumu wants to rewatch Love Actually for the third time that month.
Was it really too late for him to think? To think about Atsumu Miya?
It’s a year later. And Sakusa Kiyoomi is seated at his usual spot at the bar at the quiet heart of his district, and it’s a Tuesday evening. And he’s still fucking thinking. There’s somebody a few seats away from him. Sakusa blames it on the alcohol and his low ass tolerance, but he doesn’t bother to count how many seats it is.
But he does take the time to process the features, the face sitting a mere metre or two away from him. Pretty eyebrows, pretty eyelashes, pretty eyes. Pretty Ushijima Wakatoshi.
“What brings you here on a Tuesday? Getting over a loss? Break-up?” he remembers Ushijima asking. Sakusa hesitates for a moment. Would he call it a break-up? It’s been a year. Is he really going to blame it on the fucking break-up?
A conversation follows with Ushijima opening up about his insecurities to Sakusa. Sakusa finds himself relating a lot to what Ushijima feels, and the former manages to give a pretty dandy piece of advice. A piece of advice that he probably should be giving himself as well.
Ushijima listens to every word Sakusa Kiyoomi says. The latter just knows it. He knows that every word that comes out of his mouth ties two new pieces of unfounded string in Ushijima’s heart. For the first time in a long time, Sakusa feels like somebody is listening to him.
(atsumu has always been doing so. how come sakusa couldn’t see it then?)
Ushijima Wakatoshi has always been somebody Sakusa Kiyoomi looked up to. He was an ace inside out, and he carried himself with a pride of undeniable abilities. And to see someone as strong and skilled as Ushijima Wakaotshi feeling insecure about himself — for a second, Sakusa can’t help but feel privileged.
He also begins to think about the privilege of loving Ushijima Wakatoshi. The privilege to love a man not full of talent and skill, but full of spirit with a void of love.
That night when Ushijima drives Sakusa back home, the latter can’t help but stare at his ceiling and think of somebody else that wasn’t Atsumu Miya for the first time.
He thinks that Ushijima Wakatoshi is a good person. He is kind and warm-hearted and feels like the summer breeze that gradually becomes cooler in its descent to spring. Sakusa wonders what kind of personality type Ushijima has, or what his birth chart looks like.
Sakusa thinks of Ushijima and smiles.
The smile falls almost immediately as the reality hits Sakusa. Fucking hell, Sakusa thinks to himself. He didn’t get Ushijima’s number.
Aforementioned happens a second time, when this time Sakusa Kiyoomi is the one dropping Ushijima Wakatoshi back home after the latter was clearly the more drunk one at the Black Jackals versus Schweiden Adlers post-match party.
During the drive back, Ushijima doesn’t notice Sakusa smiling to himself (masks do wonders). Ushijima is cute when he’s drunk is what was playing in Sakusa’s head. Oh, there is also her by MINO accompanying them during their drive.
Sakusa keeps asking Ushijima if he was okay during the ride back, and whether he needed a company back to his apartment. Not going to lie, though, Sakusa really wanted to see how Ushijima’s apartment looked like. He was guessing a few potted plants at the ignored corners of the home, and probably dark green or grey would be the overall theme of his flat.
Ushijima takes a little longer than expected to exit the car when they arrive. Sakusa doesn’t want to say goodbye, so he doesn’t mind. “What’s wrong?” comes out of his mouth instead.
Rough textured fingers are tugging on Sakusa’s mask next. Thank goodness for the dim lights inside the car, coupled with the alcohol that Ushijima had been drinking, because hell was Sakusa Kiyoomi a blushing mess right now.
Kiss me, Wakatoshi. Do it.
He does. Sakusa doesn’t really curry favour with the taste of sunset rum, but on the tip of Ushijima Wakatoshi’s tongue it tastes different. Sakusa likes it. At the back of his head, he wonders why he wants to kiss all the rum off Ushijima.
Miya Atsumu.
Sakusa doesn’t want to stop, but he finds himself pulling away first. They look into each others’ eyes intently for the first time that night. Ushijima has dark brown eyes. Sakusa wants to fall deep into them and never get out.
Ushijima makes his exit hurriedly, and Sakusa doesn’t blame him. What Sakusa does want to know, though — is what Ushijima tastes like on a regular, daily basis, when he’s drinking a glass of cold apple juice instead of alcohol, and if he smells like shampoo characterized by summer moving into spring.
They still don’t have each others’ numbers.
Sakusa Kiyoomi isn’t very much that surprised to see Atsumu Miya actually standing outside his house a few days later. “Sakusa,” oh right, he’s no longer fucking Kiyoomi, or my angel.
“Come in,” Sakusa doesn’t know what to call him. “So, why did you call me?” Atsumu asks, leaning against the kitchen counter. The exact same counter they called it quits. It’s been a year.
A year , huh?
Sakusa puts on his Cigarettes After Sex record. The familiar tune of Falling In Love echoes through the walls. Sakusa turns back and walks towards Atsumu, whose eyes widen with every step the former takes towards him.
Cold hands hold onto warmer ones. Atsumu is being pulled to the familiar feel of what he defined as home for awhile. (He isn’t very sure if it’s still his home, though.)
“Sakusa,” Atsumu feels Sakusa rest his head on his shoulder, “What are you doing?” Sakusa wants to scream it all out. He wants to punch Atsumu, punch Ushijima, punch himself. What the fuck was he doing? Why the fuck is Atsumu Miya’s body against his, with Falling In Love playing at the background?
Sakusa thinks he hears somebody pull up to his house. He ignores it.
“Atsumu,” Sakusa’s voice is husky and harsh against Atsumu’s ear, and Atsumu wants to give in already, “just let me stay here for awhile,”
The song ends, and You’re the Only Good Thing In My Life begins to play. Greg Gonzalez opens with ‘You only fuck for love’. Sakusa pulls his head away and looks into Atsumu’s eyes, then his lips.
“Kiss me, Miya,” Sakusa’s mouth is warm with the familiar smell of cigarettes filling Atsumu’s nose. If this was them last year, Atsumu would have kissed off all the smoke from the entirety of Sakusa’s lungs. But they’re here, now. A year later. Not in love.
“No,” Atsumu says firmly. Sakusa can’t help but chuckle sadly. He’s different. Atsumu has changed. Atsumu has moved on. Atsumu releases his grip around Sakusa and moves towards the door. “Atsumu,” Sakusa asks, and Atsumu hums in reply. “Did you really love me?”
Atsumu thinks for a second, and he shrugs, lips pressed. “I did,” he admits. “Sometimes I think I still do. But I know you’re in love with someone else, Kiyoomi.”
Sakusa raises an eyebrow. “Me? Who?”
Atsumu chuckles and opens the door, only for the both of them to see a bouquet of flowers with a small paper tucked neatly in between the pretty daffodils. Atsumu bends down and picks it up, handing it over to Sakusa. “I believe we both know who this is from.”
Sakusa stand there, clearly speechless. “Take care of yourself, Kiyoomi. There’s somebody out there who’s in love with you the same way you are. If I can figure it out, you should be able to do so too.”
The door closes. Sakusa feels slightly giddier than usual. He reads the note and doesn’t realise only until the end of it that he was holding his breath the entire time. He sees the numbers at the bottom he had wanted to save so badly and put emojis that describe Ushijima Wakatoshi in every essence behind his name.
Daffodils — symbol of new beginnings. But was Sakusa Kiyoomi ready? Was he ready to feel loved and cherished and manage to love in the same manner as well?
Instead, he finds himself texting a small, vulnerable, pathetic i’m sorry, wakatoshi-kun to the number. He clicks send and doesn’t forget to save the contact as ‘i’m in love with this boy (but why can’t i accept it?)’ And then puts his phone down. Opera House is playing now.
i was meant to love you and always keep you in my life. i was meant to love you, i knew i loved you at first sight.
Ushijima Wakatoshi never replies Sakusa Kiyoomi.
It has been fifteen days. Sakusa is now seated at the bar once again, on the same lazy Tuesday night, at his same spot, but three seats apart only sits the presence of Ushijima Wakatoshi that Sakusa Kiyoomi can’t seem to get rid off.
Ushijima Wakatoshi is going to finish The Courage to be Happy. His fingers fiddle comfortably with the tip of the page when his phone buzzes. He ignores it at first, then it happens a second time, then a third, fourth, fifth. How annoying. He huffs as he puts his glasses down and picks his phone up.
from: takahiro hanamaki
hey sakusa kiyoomi is here
and he asked me if you still come here often and i said yes
and then he asked me if you told me anything about you and ofc i said no
he bought a beer that he hasn’t even drank but..
i think he’s crying now [ sweats ]
Hanamaki didn’t even have to ask any further. Ushijima puts on his coat and takes his car keys. The bartender’s phone buzzes as he looks away from Sakusa, the concerned expression still on his face.
from: wakatoshi
i’m on my way there. give me 10 minutes
Ushijima beats three red lights, and he thinks the speeding camera flashes once, but he doesn’t seem to care at all. He knows he’ll probably have to pay a fucking fine and not get his demerit free driver sticker this year, but he doesn’s mind.
Ushijima bursts through the doors, panting heavily. Sakusa doesn’t look up. Hanamaki gestures to the back of the bar, and Ushijima nods, giving him the cue to give them some privacy. The beer is still left untouched.
“Sakusa,” Ushijima manages to say in between catching his breath, and Sakusa immediately looks up. “Wakatoshi?” Sakusa scans him from top to bottom and another tear escapes from his eyes. Ushijima feels like he’ll pass out if Sakusa called him that again.
“I’m here, Kiyoomi,” Ushijima smiles fondly at the boy he’s in love with, still. Forever. Sakusa pulls the mask out of his face and gets down from his seat. Before Ushijima can even process the next second, Sakusa’s arms are around his neck and their mouths are pressed together.
It’s exactly what they wanted. They wanted to taste each other exactly like this — free of rum, alcohol, cigarettes. They taste like Sakusa Kiyoomi and Ushijima Wakatoshi, two boys in love with each other.
Ushijima pulls away and plants a small kiss onto Sakusa’s open mouth. “Wakatoshi,” Sakusa wants to pour out his entire heart right there and then, in this empty bar on a weekday evening.
Ushijima Wakatoshi and Sakusa Kiyoomi’s love was now connected with a red string. And the scissors was in Sakusa’s hands. He used it once, and he never stopped beating himself up for it. It was once more there for him to use it, but he knew he didn’t have to anymore. He realises that even if in the end you’re going to cut it with scissors, first you have to face it.
The worst thing to do is to just stand still with the situation as it is. And it took him a whole Ushijima Wakatoshi to teach him that. But Sakusa Kiyoomi is glad that it was through him.
“I’m not running away from you, never again,” Sakusa presses his hands on Ushijima’s cheeks and the latter tilts his head slightly to lean onto the touch. “I promise that I’ll choose you, Ushijima Wakatoshi. I chose you when we were at this exact same spot, when we were in your car, my car, that party, and every time we play on court. I promise I’ll choose you, and only you, over and over again.”
“I’m glad you say so, Kiyoomi,” Ushijima holds on the hand he leans against and presses a small kiss onto Sakusa’s calloused palms. Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi. “I’ll choose you for this lifetime to the fulfillment of my heart’s desire, too.”
“Cheesy ass bitch,” Sakusa chuckles, and Ushijima does the same. “Can I kiss you again?” Sakusa tips his nose to touch Ushijima’s and the latter blinks from the soft feeling.
“You won’t ever have to ask again,” Ushijima says, sealing their lips together once more. Sakusa realises he won’t need the beer for tonight anymore. He was drunkenly in love with Ushijima Wakatoshi.
Ushijima doesn’t realise that waiting for him at home is the last page of The Courage to be Happy, which he will be surprised to find out later that a stroke of faithful coincidence happens.
Outside the bar, a few light taps sound upon the pane. It had begun to snow again. Sakusa’s and Ushijima’s mouths fill each others’ with desire — to the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight awaiting them outside.
To Sakusa, Ushijima still manages to taste like summer’s pursuit into spring. To Ushijima, Sakusa Kiyoomi was every season in pursuit of achieving the next.
Whatever it was, the red string that connected the both of them were now tied together with a dead knot. A knot that not even the strongest of scissors will ever be able to cut. And that’s all that mattered.
The young man slowly tied his shoelaces and left the philosopher’s house. On opening the door, he found a snowy scene spread out before him. The full moon, its floating form obscured, illuminated the shimmering whiteness at his feet. What clear air. What dazzling light. I am going to tread on this fresh snow, and take my first step. The young man drew a deep breath, rubbed the slight stubble on his face, and murmured emphatically, “The world is simple, and life is too.”
— The Courage to be Happy (Ichiro Kishimi)
final paragraph.