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It was almost midnight, the post-game high had worn off hours ago, and Atsumu hadn’t drank nearly enough alcohol to stay on Bokuto’s level.
“Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto was loud at the best of times, but after a few drinks he became a walking nuke. “Have another shot with me! For my birthday!”
“Your birthday’s six months away, Bokkun.”
“For my half-birthday, I mean!” said Bokuto. He already had the shots in his hand. Atsumu didn’t know where he’d gotten them; Bokuto hadn’t left the table for the past hour. “C’mon!”
Atsumu glanced across the table. Meian was draining one beer after another, but he was miraculously sober, as always. Inunaki wasn’t far behind, but he was definitely feeling it. The too-wide grin on his face gave him away, along with the slow sway of his shoulders. Tomas had cut out on them an hour ago, and Hinata had gone to the bathroom for the sixth time since they’d been at the bar. He wasn’t quite drunk, but not for lack of personal motivation. Meian had made a habit of taking drinks right out of Hinata’s hand if he felt he was getting too tipsy.
They’d learned their lesson after the first time they’d brought Hinata along after a win and let him drink to his heart’s content. None of them would make that mistake again.
“Nah, I’ll pass,” said Atsumu, leaning back as the shot was shoved toward his face. “I think I’m gonna head back to the hotel. It’s gettin’ late.”
“You’re no fun.” Bokuto took one shot in each hand and sucked both of them down at once, slamming the empty glasses on the table. He made a long, loud “Wooooh!” that had several heads turning their way.
“Right,” said Atsumu. He stood and left the table, pausing only to pat Meian on the shoulder and say, “Good luck with that, captain. Hope you don’t have to carry him back again. Tell Shouyou I said bye.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Meian, waving him off. “Get some rest. Meet in the lobby at nine-thirty. Don’t be late.”
“I’m never late.” Atsumu said it with confidence, although everyone at that table knew it was a lie. “See you guys in the mornin’.”
There was a chorus of goodbyes from everyone except Bokuto, who shouted something about Atsumu not knowing how to have a good time. He didn’t mean it, but even if he did, Atsumu would’ve left anyway.
He was sick of the bar. There were too many people, and not enough room to breathe, and was there really a point to go out and get drunk after every win? They won all the time, it was starting to get a little redundant.
He told himself these things, and didn’t let himself think about the real reason he wanted to get back to the hotel.
When he made it across the street, up the elevator, and into his room, that reason was sitting in bed, reading by lamplight, long fingers peeling over a fresh page in his book.
“Hey, Omi.” Atsumu took off his shoes and lined them up evenly beside Sakusa’s. “Didn’t know if you’d still be up.”
Sakusa made a neutral sound, still reading.
“Bokuto’s about to be fuckin’ trashed,” said Atsumu, grinning. “He’s gonna hate himself tomorrow. At least the ride home’ll be quiet. He’ll sleep like a baby.”
“Small mercies,” murmured Sakusa.
“You should go with us sometime,” said Atsumu. “It’s not so bad.”
“When you say not so bad I know you really mean hell on earth , so I’ll pass.”
Atsumu snorted a laugh. “You could just get a drink and leave. Don’t hafta sit around all night.”
“Again, I’ll pass.”
“Of course ya will.” Atsumu shrugged off his jacket and hung it by the door, beside Sakusa’s. “I’m gonna shower. Be out in a few.”
Sakusa made a noncommittal noise and turned a page.
Atsumu grinned as he turned away. Objectively, it seemed like Sakusa didn’t want to talk to him. He would’ve thought that a month ago. But any sound from Sakusa was better than silence because it meant he was listening.
If Atsumu had taken that shot with Bokuto, he probably would’ve fallen asleep in the shower. It was a near thing anyway, and he cranked the water down cold to give himself enough of a jolt to stay awake. It had been a long day between the match and the interviews and the post-game bar crawl. Most of his days were long. That came with playing professionally, and he wasn’t complaining. He didn’t mind it.
When he emerged from the bathroom with clean hair and clean teeth and a clean towel cinched around his hips, Sakusa hadn’t moved at all.
Atsumu wasn’t disappointed, refused to let himself feel that way. He thought, only briefly, of the night more than a month ago when he stepped out of a hotel bathroom nearly identical to this one. Sakusa had been waiting for him that night. It was something Atsumu thought of often, far more often than was probably healthy.
When he huffed a breath and decided to let himself be disappointed, just a little, he found that he wasn’t. Sakusa didn’t despise Atsumu’s existence, and that was enough. It was more than Atsumu had ever dared to hope for.
He knelt to paw through his bag and dropped his towel to step into his underwear. He raised his head to find Sakusa watching him.
“Did you wipe down the shower?” asked Sakusa. His book was propped against one bent knee.
“Yeah, ‘course I did. Although it’s pointless since we’re checkin’ out tomorrow.”
Sakusa watched him for a moment longer, as Atsumu whipped back the sheets and crawled into bed. “It’s the principle of it that matters.”
“Nah, I think you just like tellin’ me what to do.” Atsumu collapsed on his stomach, face buried in the pillow, limbs sprawled. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, and he could only breathe a little, but he was too tired to move. “That match killed me. I’m fuckin’ exhausted.”
Sakusa hummed. There was a shuffle of pages, a rustle of sheets. He said, “That’s too bad.”
Atsumu absorbed those words slowly, so slowly that he was almost asleep before he realized what Sakusa had said. When he did, he got an arm beneath himself and pushed his shoulders up, staring over at Sakusa, the fog of weariness retreating from the furthest edges of his thoughts. “What?”
Sakusa turned a page. “What?”
“What’d you just say?”
“I said that’s too bad.” Sakusa flicked a fingernail against the edge of the pages. It made a gentle crunching sound. “You should get some sleep.”
Atsumu pushed himself up further, sitting back on his heels. If he’d learned anything about Sakusa, anything at all, it was that every single word he said was purposeful. He didn’t talk just to fill the silence, the way Atsumu did.
Unlike Sakusa, Atsumu had never been interested in reading, but he was certainly trying his best to read Sakusa.
“Yeah,” said Atsumu, watching Sakusa carefully, “I should. You should, too. Why’re you even still up? Usually you’d be sleepin’ by now.”
“Why bother when you’re going to stomp through the room and wake me up again anyway?”
“It’s never stopped you before.”
Sakusa said nothing.
Atsumu slipped his legs off the edge of the bed, slowly. He’d been seconds away from sleep, but now it was the last thing on his mind. He was wide awake, his blood warming in a way that had nothing to do with the few drinks he’d had.
He stood and took the two steps of distance between his bed and Sakusa’s. He stayed there, a little awkwardly, until Sakusa looked up at him. “What?”
Atsumu pushed a hand through his hair and tried to puzzle out Sakusa’s blank expression. There was nothing there. It was like a vault.
But Atsumu still thought he sensed something past the flat stare and the neutral set of Sakusa’s mouth. Maybe it was just in Atsumu’s head, but maybe it wasn’t.
Atsumu sat on the edge of Sakusa’s bed. It wasn’t large, but there was still space between them, enough that they weren’t touching. Sakusa was close, though. Atsumu could have reached out and touched him easily; his arm, his shoulder, his hair. He could have, but he didn’t.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothin’.” Atsumu pulled a knee up at the edge of the mattress and swiveled to face him better. “Whatcha readin’?”
“Nothing you care about.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” Sakusa snapped the book closed and stretched over to leave it on the nightstand. He had to lean past Atsumu, and his elbow brushed Atsumu’s knee as he pulled back. “You don’t care about anything that requires more than half of a braincell to understand.”
Atsumu didn’t even take offense to that. He knew Sakusa was joking, in his own sarcastic way. He wasn’t even wrong; Atsumu had never liked reading. “Except volleyball.”
“The one exception.”
Atsumu hummed, still studying Sakusa’s face. He hadn’t been snapped at to get away, which was a good sign. “I dunno. You’re hard to understand sometimes, too. I’ve burned out at least a dozen braincells tryin’ to guess if you still hate me or not.”
“A dozen?” repeated Sakusa. “That’s over half of what you were born with. You should preserve the rest. You might need them someday.”
It wasn’t an answer, not outright, but it still kind of was. It was as much of an answer as Atsumu could expect from him, and he found himself grinning. “Yeah, okay. I’ll save the rest, then. But if I lose ‘em all, you probably have some extras you’re not usin’, right?”
One of Sakusa’s eyebrows rose, just slightly. He glanced down, taking in Atsumu on the edge of his bed, and said, “I’m starting to question that. Maybe I’m fresh out of braincells, too.”
“I feel like that was an insult.”
“Good intuition.”
Atsumu frowned at him, but it was forced. The feeling in his chest was the opposite; tight and warm and hopeful.
“Hey, Omi?”
“Hmm.”
“You should give me a goodnight kiss.”
Sakusa’s face didn’t change. That was good, because if he’d been disgusted by the idea of that, Atsumu would have seen it. “Why?”
“’Cause I like kissin’ you,” said Atsumu. It would have been an embarrassing thing to admit to anyone else, but it felt okay to say it to Sakusa.
Sakusa’s nose crinkled, just a little. “Why would I want to kiss someone who’s been out drinking all night?”
“I only had three drinks,” said Atsumu, holding up an equal number of fingers to demonstrate. “And I brushed my teeth real good, you can’t even tell.”
Sakusa’s mouth pulled down on one side. He was thinking.
“C’mon, Omi-Omi.” Atsumu eased closer, but still didn’t touch him. “Just for a minute.”
Sakusa didn’t immediately answer, but that was okay. He would agree. Atsumu felt it.
After a pause, Sakusa said, “Fine.”
Atsumu had expected that, but his stomach still swooped.
Sakusa pushed himself more upright and folded his legs, the sheets falling away from his knees. He was wearing sweatpants and long sleeves, as usual. Atsumu had never seen him sleep in anything different. “Come here.”
Atsumu crawled up to plop down in front of him, mirroring his posture, crossing his legs with his knees nearly touching Sakusa’s.
Sakusa said “Don’t-”
Atsumu tucked his hands underneath his own thighs before Sakusa even finished that sentence. “I won’t.”
Sakusa studied him, as if trying to decide if he was trustworthy. They’d already had that conversation. Sakusa must have thought he could trust Atsumu, at least a little bit, or he wouldn’t be sitting on Sakusa’s bed. No one else would have been allowed there. Atsumu himself wouldn’t have been a month ago.
“Close your eyes,” said Sakusa.
Atsumu rolled his eyes but then closed them, unbothered. “There ya go again. I knew you liked tellin’ me what to do.”
Sakusa didn’t argue. He didn’t say anything at all, and Atsumu sat in perfect silence until fingertips brushed the side of his neck. They lingered, gently, until Sakusa’s entire hand landed there in a warm curve, his thumb touching the edge of Atsumu’s jaw.
Atsumu’s heartbeat stuttered and went quicker, his pulse kicking in his ears as warm breath fanned over his lips. “Omi?” he said, a low whisper.
“What?” The voice was close, so close, and Atsumu wanted to look at him so badly.
“Can I kiss you back?”
“As long as you don’t touch me.”
It was more permission than Atsumu was expecting, and when Sakusa’s mouth melted against his, Atsumu leaned in to meet it. There was less hesitation than last time. Sakusa kissed him purposefully, a slow and deliberate push and pull of lips that had Atsumu choking back the whine lodged in his throat. He pressed in closer, hands still safely trapped, and opened his mouth, exhaling against Sakusa’s lips. He almost expected Sakusa to pull away, to make a snide comment about being too greedy.
But Sakusa echoed him, his mouth opening as he leaned in, their breaths mixing. Atsumu licked at Sakusa’s bottom lip, just barely, just to see how he’d react. Sakusa’s tongue met his, one quick touch before retreating, and Atsumu pulled back with a spike of heat in his gut and a scalding flush across his face. His breath was coming short, which should have been embarrassing, considering they’d only been kissing. But kissing Sakusa was far different than kissing anyone else, and Atsumu wasn’t ashamed.
They watched one another in a way that was almost wary. The tips of Sakusa’s ears were red, and there was the faintest dust of color high across his cheeks. His hand fell away from Atsumu’s neck, and Atsumu wanted it back.
“One more,” said Atsumu.
“Why?”
“Because you liked it,” said Atsumu. It wasn’t a question. “You liked it and I liked it and I really want you to kiss me again, Omi.”
Sakusa exhaled. Atsumu thought he would protest, and was already preparing his counterargument when Sakusa leaned in again.
This time he didn’t make Atsumu close his eyes, so Atsumu saw the dusk of Sakusa’s stare, the shape of his mouth, the fall of his lashes in the instant before Sakusa kissed him again. Atsumu’s whine escaped, low and deep in his throat, as he pressed against Sakusa’s mouth. His hands itched to move, but he only shoved them further beneath his thighs.
Sakusa touched him again, his palm curling at Atsumu’s jaw, fingers slipping into his damp hair. He tilted his head and kissed Atsumu deeper, their lips fitting together, Sakusa’s breath inferno-hot. His tongue was in Atsumu’s mouth, deliberate but cautious, and Atsumu thought this might be the moment he died of Sakusa-related heart failure. He didn’t mind. It would be worth it.
Atsumu didn’t know what he tasted like to Sakusa – toothpaste, probably – but Sakusa tasted ambrosial, like something forbidden and divine.
This time when they broke away it was more slowly, with a lingering glide of lips. Atsumu levered his eyes open to meet Sakusa’s hooded stare. Sakusa’s breath was a little too quick, too. Maybe it was from some sort of anxiety related to touching Atsumu, but he didn’t think so. Sakusa clasped his hands in his lap, fingers twisting together. Beneath them, Atsumu saw the bulge in Sakusa’s sweatpants.
Atsumu was already far too warm, and as he watched the subtle way Sakusa adjusted himself in his pants, he was suddenly burning alive.
“Omi.” His voice was a little breathy. “Are you… Can I…?”
Sakusa shook his head, eyes darting down between Atsumu’s legs. Atsumu didn’t try to cover himself. He was half-hard and unashamed.
“Omi?” Atsumu wanted to reach out, even if it was just to touch Sakusa’s knee, or his arm, or his hand. Anything. Atsumu would’ve been happy with anything.
“Go to bed, Miya.” Sakusa’s eyes darted away and he folded his hands more tightly. They were still clutched in his lap, covering him.
“Don’t wanna,” said Atsumu. He leaned a little closer, but his hands were still tucked safely beneath his thighs. As he eased closer, Sakusa leaned back, keeping distance between them.
“You said you were exhausted.” Sakusa was still staring off to the side. Atsumu wanted to touch his face, to force Sakusa to look at him.
“Changed my mind,” said Atsumu. “I’m wide awake, Omi-kun. Just like you. Kiss me again.”
“No.”
“Why not?” Atsumu licked his lips. Sakusa flicked a glance at him, quickly, before again looking away. “Afraid you’ll like it too much?”
“Get away from me.”
Atsumu sat back, but stayed comfortably planted on Sakusa’s bed. “Why? It’s okay to want me, Omi. I want you too, ya know.”
Sakusa moved, and Atsumu’s heart leapt into his throat, but Sakusa only unfurled one leg and jammed it into the outside of Atsumu’s thigh. “Go to bed.”
Atsumu’s heart settled back down into his chest. He rolled his eyes and shifted back, giving Sakusa some breathing room. It was the opposite of what he wanted to do. “Why’re you so scared of lettin’ me get close? You already fucked me once, what’s it matter if we do it again?” He raised an eyebrow at Sakusa’s lap. “You obviously want to, don’t lie and say you don’t.”
Sakusa finally looked at him. His face was completely blank. “I don’t want to.”
It was a lie. There was no indication, no tells, but Atsumu knew anyway. It was obvious. “You know what? Fine.” He huffed and pushed himself to his feet. “You wanna pretend, go ahead.” He tugged at the edge of his boxers and turned away. He stepped toward his bed, prepared to collapse back onto it and spend the night sulking.
“Miya.”
Atsumu went still.
There was a silence that stretched, grew heavier, weighed Atsumu down. He took a breath and waited it out, because as much as he was itching out of his skin, Sakusa wasn’t someone who could be rushed.
Finally, finally , Sakusa said, “It’s different this time.”
Atsumu turned around slowly. Sakusa was frowning down at the sheets, pointedly not looking at him. “What’s that mean?”
Sakusa exhaled and his shoulders curled in. He threaded his fingers together more tightly. “The first time was a mistake.”
Atsumu winced as if that was a physical blow. It certainly felt like it. “Damn, thanks a lot.”
Sakusa’s jaw twitched, as if he was clenching his teeth. “I don’t mean it like that.”
“How else could you mean it?”
“I mean you can do something one time, call it a mistake, and never do it again.” He raised his head, but only to stare across the room at the blank tv screen. “But if you repeat the mistake, it’s not a mistake anymore. It’s a conscious choice. It’s on purpose.”
Atsumu’s chest felt tight. He took a cautious step back toward Sakusa’s bed, and when he wasn’t rebuked, he carefully sat on the edge. His fingers twitched with the need to reach for Sakusa so he grabbed a handful of bedsheets instead. “That’s not the first time you kissed me.”
“I’m aware.”
“D’you regret it? ‘Cause you can’t call it a mistake now?”
Sakusa didn’t answer. Atsumu watched him, trying to read the silence. It was heavy, but it didn’t feel toxic.
“Is bein’ with me really the worst thing you could do?” asked Atsumu quietly. “So bad you’ve gotta be afraid of admitting you might like me a little bit?”
“I don’t like you.”
“Why’d you kiss me, then?”
Silence again. Atsumu leaned back on his hands, still watching Sakusa, waiting.
“I don’t know how to do this,” said Sakusa. His shoulders curled in a little more. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Omi.” Atsumu shifted his hand, just a little. It was close to Sakusa’s knee, so close he could’ve nudged his knuckles against it. “You really don’t. I just… If you wanna kiss me, or touch me, or… or whatever you wanna do, I want you to know you can do it. There’s nothin’ wrong with it.”
Sakusa fell into silence again. His brows were tucked together in a sharp V.
“And I’m not gonna tell anybody,” said Atsumu, “so if you’re worried about that-”
“I’m not.” Sakusa shifted out of his cross-legged posture, folded his knees against his chest, and curled his arms around them. “I don’t care about what other people think. I never have.”
Atsumu wanted to ask what the problem was, if not that. He wanted to ask if Sakusa really did hate him, and if he was disgusted by the thought of Atsumu, and if he never wanted to touch him again. He wanted to ask so many things, but he kept the questions caged in his throat and waited, because he thought that was what Sakusa needed.
“It’s me.” Sakusa said it flatly, as if he had no real interest in his own words, although the crease digging into his brow suggested differently. “I don’t know how to do this. One time is fine. It doesn’t have to mean anything. But something more than that…”
He didn’t finish that sentence, but he didn’t have to. Atsumu knew what he meant. He could have been offended by that, easily, but he wasn’t. He knew what Sakusa was trying to say, even if he wasn’t good at saying it.
“Commitment issues,” said Atsumu, with a small smile. “I should’ve known.”
“It’s not-”
“I know, Omi. I really do.” Atsumu tilted his head. Sakusa’s frown was more pronounced, and his hair had fallen over his forehead to brush at the corner of his eye. Atsumu wanted to reach out and tuck it behind his ear, wanted to know if Sakusa’s hair was soft or wiry. “It’s okay. I get it. You know I don’t expect anything from ya, right? If this goes on for a week and you change your mind, no big deal. I won’t make a fuss about it.”
“I don’t believe that. You’re the most dramatic person I’ve ever met.”
Atsumu snorted. “Sometimes I overreact, I’m not gonna deny it. But this is different. It’s serious. I’m not gonna fuck around. You tell me you’re done, it’s done. No hangin’ on, no expectations, no nothin’.”
“You don’t want a relationship, then,” said Sakusa. His voice was still flat, still detached. “You want sex.”
Atsumu wanted to agree with that, because it was the easy answer. He considered it, tasted the words on his tongue, but swallowed them back.
It was easy, but maybe easy wasn’t the right way to go, not this time.
“Omi,” said Atsumu. “I’m not gonna lie. I’ll take anything you’re willin’ to give me.”
Sakusa blinked and looked up at him. His eyes were as dark as ever, but not empty. There was something there, a flash of surprise.
Atsumu’s face felt a little warm, but he didn’t take it back. He didn’t say anything.
“What do you want from me?” asked Sakusa.
“I just said-”
“Not what you’ll settle for,” said Sakusa. He hadn’t moved, maybe hadn’t even breathed. “Tell me what you want.”
The warmth on Atsumu’s face spread. The tops of his ears were hot, and when he scratched at the back of his neck, the skin was warm. He wished they were still kissing. That was easier than this conversation.
“Miya.”
“I’m thinkin’ about how to say it without pissin’ you off,” said Atsumu. “Gimme a second.”
“Just say it.”
Atsumu huffed a breath. He frowned down at his knees, turning the words over in his head, wondering how much of them were too much.
Something touched his chin, gentle pressure that grew firmer. It took Atsumu too long to realize it was Sakusa’s fingertips, pushing until Atsumu had no choice but to look up at him. His throat was suddenly dry, and he could think of nothing else but the touch that lingered on his face and the dark heat of Sakusa’s eyes.
Atsumu forgot what he’d been planning to say. The truth spilled out instead. “I’ve liked you for a long time, Omi. A real long time. I never said anything because obviously I didn’t think you’d ever like me back. But then you… we…” Sakusa was still touching him. It was distracting. Atsumu could only think about the coolness of his fingertips, of how many seconds he had left before Sakusa pulled away. “If I have a chance, I wanna take it. If this is just a friends with benefits thing then yeah, sure, I’m into that, but… but if I’m choosin’, I want more than that. I want everything.”
Sakusa pulled his hand away and Atsumu would have given absolutely anything to have it back. “We can’t be friends with benefits, considering we’re not friends.”
Atsumu smiled, because Sakusa’s voice wasn’t flat anymore. There was a familiar twist to it, sharp but not wounding. “Wanna be friends, then?”
“No.”
Atsumu glanced down at Sakusa’s hand. He wondered if it had actually been on his face or if he’d imagined it. “Wanna be somethin’ else instead?”
Sakusa didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no, either. He glanced away and then back. “I don’t know.”
It was more than Atsumu would have let himself hope for. His grin tugged higher. “Think about it, then. I’m patient.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Well I can be. I will be. I swear.”
Sakusa clearly didn’t believe him.
“By the way,” said Atsumu, “we’re friends already, whether you wanna admit it or not.”
“I hate you.”
“No, ya don’t.”
Sakusa nudged Atsumu’s thigh with a socked foot. “Go to bed, Miya.”
“Yeah, yeah.” This time Atsumu stood without argument. He would’ve ended the night differently if it had been his choice, but it wasn’t, and that was okay. Sakusa had kissed him. Sakusa had touched his face. Sakusa hadn’t laughed at him when Atsumu had said he wanted them to be together. Demanding anything more than that was selfish, and while Atsumu had spent most of his life being selfish, he wasn’t about to do that with Sakusa.
Atsumu took one step toward his bed, paused, and turned back again.
Maybe he could be just a little selfish.
He planted his hands on the edge of Sakusa’s bed and leaned close. This time Sakusa didn’t move away.
“One more goodnight kiss?” asked Atsumu with a grin. “I’ll leave ya alone after, I swear.”
“I have a feeling you’ll never leave me alone.”
“Probably not. Aren’t you lucky.”
“Cursed,” said Sakusa. “The word you’re looking for is cursed .” Still, he leaned in and kissed Atsumu, a quick touch of lips that made Atsumu’s stomach swoop. “Now get in bed.”
“Still tellin’ me what to do,” said Atsumu, although he couldn’t stop smiling. “Big surprise.” He threw himself onto his bed, bounced once, and burrowed halfway into the sheets. He pressed his face into his pillow but kept one eye on Sakusa, who shuffled to the edge of his own bed to reach for the lamp. Just before he flipped the switch he glanced at Atsumu, his mouth downturned into a slight frown. Then the room dipped into darkness and Atsumu closed his eyes to listen to Sakusa shuffling around, curling into his usual tight ball to sleep.
Atsumu wondered what it would be like to sleep in the same bed, to lie with his chest against Sakusa and hold him, or to have Sakusa’s heat curled up at his back.
It was asking for a lot. It would probably never happen.
“Goodnight, Miya.”
Atsumu smiled into his pillow. He still felt the tingle of Sakusa’s mouth against his.
It would probably never happen, but maybe it would.
“’Night, Omi-Omi. Sweet dreams. Of me, in particular.”
“Don’t wish that kind of nightmare on me, Miya.”
Atsumu laughed quietly and settled in to sleep. He hadn’t gotten the hotel room experience he would have asked for, the one he’d gotten a month ago.
But he’d gotten kissed – more than once, more than he’d expected – and Sakusa had touched him without coercion and they’d had an honest conversation, one that hadn’t ended badly.
All things considered, Atsumu wouldn’t have changed a thing.