Work Text:
( “Hey.”
“Hm?”
Atsumu gently brushes the stray strands of hair falling on Tobio’s face. “I love you,” he begins, “through thick and thin,” then he presses a tender kiss on Tobio’s forehead, “and all the moments in between.” )
i.
Miya Atsumu has thought of three extremely detailed scenarios on how we would like to meet Kageyama Tobio again.
The first one is born out of his pettiness (or immaturity, as Osamu called it.) The setting is a house party, perhaps at Kuroo’s because Kuroo hosts the best parties. He’s making out with a pretty boy on the couch when an even prettier Tobio walks in on the room. Atsumu, as always, will spot him first. He watches as Tobio’s dark blue eyes scan the crowded room. Of course, he sees Atsumu and of course, the two of them lock eyes. Atsumu bites the lip of whoever is on his lap while looking at Tobio, just to prove a point. And then —
He never thinks about it again.
(He’s ashamed he even thought of it in the first place.)
The second one is a lot better because it’s a scenario Atsumu thought of at the crack of dawn. (Tobio once told him his 4 AM thoughts are the best.) He meets the one and only Tobio at their usual coffee shop. Since final exams are coming up, every single table is occupied but there’s a vacant seat waiting for Atsumu in Tobio’s table. He adjusts the straps of his backpack and his grip on the books he’s holding tightens as he approaches the other. He asks Tobio if he can sit on the table and maybe (just maybe) bites his bottom lip in the process. Surprise paints the other’s face, if his slightly wide eyes and open mouth are anything to go by, but he agrees nonetheless. Atsumu sits and places his three books on the table because he is a diligent college student who has big dreams (or that’s how he likes to be perceived by Tobio). The two of them study in silence until the sun starts to set in a swirl of pink and purple, a reminder that they both have to go home. As they fix their things, Atsumu gathers the courage to ask Tobio if he can walk him to his apartment. And then —
Tobio agrees. Tobio always agrees.
(He will walk Tobio to his apartment, and he will walk back home.)
The third one Atsumu ponders on most nights. They’re at a party hosted again by Kuroo but this time Atsumu is alone on the couch when Tobio enters the room. When Tobio’s gaze lands on him, Atsumu loses himself in the blue of his eyes. He goes towards him, his steps slow and languid. Tobio watches Atsumu as he draws closer, his eyes never leaving his face. Atsumu stops in his tracks when their faces are only inches apart to the point that he can feel the other’s warm breath brushing his face. He looks at Tobio’s lips and when he slides his gaze back to the blue of his eyes, he finds the other drawn to his lips too. Atsumu softly tugs him by the collar, just so Tobio knows he can stop if he wants to. When he doesn’t show any qualms about it, he kisses him. Atsumu kisses him and bites his lip and tugs his piercing and pulls his hair and drags his tongue on the smooth of his neck and then —
He forces himself to sleep.
He doesn’t want his imagination to run wild and subsequently get his hopes up in the process. (Here’s a secret: there’s already a seed of hope planted in his chest, he just doesn’t want to admit it.)
Unfortunately, none of that happens. When Miya Atsumu meets Kageyama Tobio again, it happens like this:
He’s riding his skateboard, backpack slung on his shoulder, a donut in one hand and an empty paper bag in the other. Atsumu’s trip to his next class has been going well so far but then two things happen at the exact same time: he hears the voice of Hinata Shouyou yell an excited “Atsumu-san!” and the sun instantaneously blinds his eyes. Atsumu thinks Shouyou is too powerful because that’s the only reason this even ensued. Now he’s fallen face flat on the ground, his donut undeniably flattened and the paper bag crumpled. Atsumu lies on the pavement and feels the uncomfortable coldness seep through his skin. He contemplates if he should stand up or stay in this unfortunate position for longer.
God. He must be a pitiful (or embarrassing) sight to behold.
Before he can make a decision, a frantic Shouyou is already kneeling beside him.
“Oh my god, Atsumu-san! I’m so sorry!” he exclaims. Atsumu blinks his eyes a few times, then eventually pushes himself to a sitting position with the familiar warmth of Shouyou’s hand supporting his back. He turns to look at the other and is immediately met with worried eyes.
“It’s not your fault.” Atsumu gives Shouyou a reassuring smile. He licks his lips and tastes copper on his tongue. Fuck. Atsumu inspects his whole body for any injuries and thankfully finds only small gashes on his knee and elbow. He was about to stand up and pick his stuff when Shouyou shouted “Tobio!”
Atsumu stills for a moment.
Tobio.
Tobio.
Tobio?!
He whips his head around to look at Shouyou, an action he regretted one second later.
“Ow,” he groans as he touches his forehead in an attempt to soothe the slight throbbing caused by the brisk movement.
Shouyou stares at him with panic evident in his eyes. He absently chews on his bottom lip with his teeth, then turns around to shout “Tobio!” once again. Atsumu follows Shouyou’s line of vision and sees Kageyama Tobio, his man the man in all his glory walking towards them. He’s wearing a baby blue polo shirt tucked in high-waisted jeans which, to Atsumu’s demise, perfectly accentuates his strong thighs. When Atsumu tilts his head to look at Tobio’s face, he finds the other’s eyes on him, and his cheeks heat up in embarrassment from being caught ogling at the other’s thighs.
Eventually, Atsumu looks away. He sees Tobio draw nearer to them in his peripheral vision but he pays him no mind. Instead, Atsumu examines his wounds and notices a bruise forming on his arm, then he tries to move his feet and mentally curses himself from the pain. Shit. He might have sprained his ankle.
When Tobio reaches them, he crouches down and asks “What happened?” to which Shouyou answers “He fell on his skateboard.”
Tobio furrows his brows. Atsumu studies him. He doesn’t know if the sunlight is tricking him but he thinks there are more freckles on Tobio’s face than he remembers. Tobio momentarily raises a brow in Shouyou's direction, then he turns his face to properly look at Atsumu.
“Your chin is bleeding,” Tobio says, his eyes are hard but his voice is soft and gentle. Atsumu touches his chin and sure enough, there’s blood staining his fingers. He bites his lip and recites every profanity he knows of in his head. Atsumu hates having injuries, most especially if it’s on the face.
Atsumu rummaged in his pocket for a handkerchief. “Fuck,” he curses. “I don’t have a hanky.”
“Atsumu-san, I’m really sorry,” Shouyou mumbles. He opens his backpack, looks through the stuff inside and sighs when he comes out empty handed. “I don’t even have anything to wipe your blood with.”
“It’s okay really,” Atsumu reassures. He’s about to wipe his chin with the collar of his shirt when Tobio suddenly holds out a handkerchief to him. Atsumu looks at Tobio’s outstretched hand and sees the familiar milk-patterned hanky he gave him on their first Christmas together.
(A fleeting thought crosses his mind: he still keeps it.)
Atsumu accepts it and mumbles a quiet “Thanks.” Soundlessly, he places the handkerchief on his chin to stop it from bleeding any further.
“Atsumu-san, can you stand up?” Shouyou asks in the same tender voice he always had. Before Atsumu can respond, Shouyou’s phone rings. He answers it without checking the caller ID.
“Hello?”
Atsumu smiles to himself. They haven’t talked at all in the past three months and it’s a relief that except for his cropped hair, not much about Shouyou has changed. His eyes are still bright, his voice still warm, and he still answers his calls without checking who’s calling.
While Shouyou talks on the phone, the other two stay quiet. Atsumu glances at Tobio and notices the other looking at his hand, the one that’s holding a handkerchief to his chin. Atsumu doesn’t let his mind dwell on it, lest he overthink the other’s stares and resort to wishful thinking. The other is probably just looking out for him out of his innate goodness. Because Tobio is like that, even if he doesn’t know it. Tobio is good and kind and soft and everything that makes Atsumu’s days a lot better all those months ago when he still had him in his life.
Atsumu lightly shakes his head at the thought. No. No. Those thoughts are reserved during lonely nights, not in broad daylight.
He shifts his attention towards Shouyou. Atsumu can faintly hear their conversation but he’s certain it’s not anything of good news given the frantic voice on the other line and Shouyou’s distressed face.
“I’m so sorry! I’ll be there in a minute!” Shouyou blurts out. He ends the call and immediately turns around to give Tobio a pointed look but Tobio only raises an eyebrow at him. A couple of seconds passed by and they’re still staring at each other.
Shouyou is the first one to break away from their staredown. He looks at Atsumu, guilt written all over his face.
“I’m really, really sorry, Atsumu-san but I have to go now,” he says, voice apologetic.
Atsumu gives him a small smile and pats him on the shoulder. “Shouyou-kun, it’s okay. Go to your class now, I’m fine.” Shouyou sighs but nods his head nonetheless. He adjusts the straps of his backpack, stands up and gives Tobio another pointed look. Like before, the other stays silent and only raises a questioning brow at him in reply.
“I’ll call you later!” Shouyou announces. With that, he waves goodbye and runs towards his lecture hall.
So. Tobio and Atsumu are left alone. Alone with the addition of the silence that hangs heavy in the air.
Tobio clears his throat and repeats Shouyou’s question from earlier. “Can you stand up?”
Atsumu nods and forces himself to stand up, completely disregarding the throbbing in his ankle. The pain sends a shock to his body causing him to inevitably lose his balance and fall but this time there are strong arms to keep him from kissing the ground again.
“You sprained your ankle, did you?”
Atsumu removes Tobio’s grip on his shoulders and tries to decently stand up by putting all his weight on his uninjured foot.
“I’m fine.”
“I have eyes, Miya-san. I can see your wounds.”
Miya-san.
At the mention of his family name, Atsumu’s chest compresses in the somber ache it always had these past three months. Miya-san. Tobio called him Miya-san. Of course. He’s no longer Atsumu to Tobio. He’s back to being Miya-san.
Atsumu has never hated Tobio’s inherent politeness as much as he does now.
He must’ve been quiet for a little longer than necessary because Tobio calls out to him. “Miya-san?”
Stop. Don’t call me that.
“Sorry. Got distracted.”
Tobio says nothing. Wordlessly, he starts to collect Atsumu’s things still messily scattered on the ground. Tobio picks up Atsumu’s backpack and gives it to him, their hands momentarily touching when Atsumu takes it from Tobio. (Warm, his hands are warm. Always warm). He picks up the squashed donut and crumbled paper bag next.
“Do you still need this?”
“No.”
“Can I throw it?”
“Sure.”
“Okay.” Tobio puts the donut inside the paper bag and tosses it in the nearest trash bin. He picks up Atsumu’s skateboard but doesn’t give it back to him. He stares at Atsumu.
“What?”
“Miya-san.”
(Atsumu pretends there’s no sting in his chest. He’s good at this. He’s good at putting on a false front.)
“Hm?”
“Do . . . do you want me to carry you?”
Atsumu wills his face to remain neutral so as to not show how shocked he is at Tobio’s question.
After a few tries, he manages to say “Carry?”
“Or not . . I could probably just assist you in walking . . . something like that.”
“Where would you take me?”
“To my apartment . . . I could treat your wounds. It’s just near campus.”
“I know,” Atsumu mumbles under his breath.
Tobio gives him a puzzled look. “Huh?”
“I know it’s near campus.” I’ve been there countless times.
“Ah.”
“Yeah.”
The silence hangs heavy in the air again.
“Anyway,” Atsumu says. “You can carry me to your apartment.”
Atsumu doesn’t really see any valid reason to decline except for the fact that he has a class in thirty minutes and he’s going to ditch it for his ex whom he is still very much in love with. But he’s injured. Surely that’s a valid reason. Besides, Atsumu is a grown man, he can cast aside his feelings. He can’t walk properly and he needs to get his wounds cleaned and patched up. Tobio would be able to help him. It’s only rational that Atsumu agrees.
Tobio gives him a smile. A genuine one. One that makes Atsumu’s heart flutter in his chest like a lovesick fool. Tobio turns around and crouches so Atsumu can hop on his back. He puts his arms around Tobio's neck and Tobio supports his thighs with his hands.
Tobio starts to walk towards his apartment.
If you told Atsumu that Tobio would be carrying him on his back yesterday, he would surely laugh on your face. He’s made up three extremely detailed scenarios and a few less elaborate ones on how he would like to meet Tobio again, none of which is this one.
Miya Atsumu meets Kageyama Tobio again like this: by falling on his skateboard three months after their messy breakup.
The universe must have been laughing by now.
“Do you know how to do this?”
Atsumu is currently seated on Tobio’s sofa. The one he used to make fun of every time he goes to this apartment because of its ugly orange color. He doesn’t make fun of it now.
He thinks he lost the right three months ago.
“Of course,” Tobio says as he prepares the antiseptic and sterile dressing. He picks up the ice pack previously placed on the coffee table and begins to ice Atsumu’s sprained ankle. “This okay?”
Atsumu nods silently. Tobio continues to massage his ankle while Atsumu lets himself feel the way the cold nips on his skin.
“Miya-san.”
Miya-san. There it is again. The sting. The dull pain.
“Yeah?”
“Can you ice your ankle?”
“Sure.”
Atsumu takes the ice pack from Tobio’s hands. He lifts his foot from the ground and rests it on his other knee, then he begins to rub circles on his ankle. Atsumu watches as the droplets fall on the floor, leaving a tiny puddle of water.
“Hey,” Tobio calls out. Atsumu removes his gaze on the floor and tilts his head to look at him.
“I’ll clean your wounds now.”
He doesn’t wait for Atsumu to reply. Tobio sprays his hands with alcohol, the movement smooth and nimble. He takes a clean cloth and begins to press it on the wound on Atsumu’s chin. His touch is featherlight. Gentle. All the while he does this, Atsumu counts his eyelashes.
He thinks the blue in his eyes are on the softer side today too.
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” Atsumu answers immediately. It doesn’t hurt, really, just stings a bit which is expected.
“Good thing the wound isn’t that deep.” Tobio continues to gently press on the wound. When he thinks the bleeding has already stopped, he sets the cloth on top of a foreign book. He takes a cotton ball and douses it with hydrogen peroxide.
“This will sting,” Tobio warns. This time, he waits for Atsumu’s response.
“It’s okay.”
Atsumu sees him hesitate for a moment but pays no attention to it. Not when the burning pain of the antiseptic is all what his mind registers.
“Shit,” Atsumu whispers under his breath. He grits his teeth and digs his fingernails into his palms. Tobio stops on swabbing the cotton, his hands lingering on Atsumu’s chin, waiting for Atsumu to say something.
Instead of speaking, Atsumu takes Tobio’s hand and dabs the cotton ball on his chin.
Without peeling his eyes away from Tobio, he uses the other’s hand to gently press the cotton ball on his own wound. The air is thick with tension; the silence, heavy and deafening.
Tobio’s eyes are on him and Atsumu feels like the ocean inside of it can engulf him whole.
Atsumu counts the seconds. One, two, three, four, five —
As if snapping out from a trance, Tobio withdraws his hand from Atsumu’s hold. He throws the cotton ball alongside the cloth from earlier and proceeds to uncap the tube of ointment.
“Stay still.”
Afterwards, Tobio silently works on the sterile dressing. He softly places the gauze on Atsumu’s chin and secures it with medical tape.
“Your elbow,” Tobio says. Without waiting for an answer, he reaches for Atsumu’s elbow. He does the same thing he did earlier, hands working methodically.
Atsumu silently watches him.
There’s an ache somewhere in his chest he doesn’t want to think about. Atsumu wants to say something. He wants to start a conversation. He wants to ask Tobio how he’s been, what he’s been up to, how’s college for him. Atsumu wants to hear Tobio talk, wants to hear his velvety voice, wants to see his lips move as he speaks.
It’s been three long months.
But he doesn’t know the words to say so he says nothing. He has never minded silence before especially when it’s with Tobio but things are different now. Silence with Tobio isn’t easy or peaceful or calming anymore — it’s the deafening kind that makes him fidget in his seat because all he can hear is the sound of their own breathing.
“Can you . . .” Tobio says, his voice effectively breaking Atsumu away from his gloomy thoughts. He seals the gauze bandage on Atsumu’s elbow with tape.
“What?”
“Remove your pants.”
Atsumu doesn’t even bother hiding his surprise. “What?!”
“You have a wound on your knee,” Tobio replies with a blank face.
“Ah.”
Heat creeps up in Atsumu’s face at the realization. Of course he has a wound on his knee. Of course. How could he forget the wound on his knee? That’s the only reason Tobio would even ask him to strip himself off his pants.
(He’s desperately hoping Tobio doesn’t ask about his reaction.)
“Why did you react like that?”
Well, fuck.
Atsumu tries to brush his embarrassment by laughing but it just comes off as awkward.
“Nothing! Don’t mind!” He blurts a little too loudly.
If the universe has any plans on opening up the ground and swallowing him whole, then this is surely the best time to do it.
“Okay . . .”
“I’ll just do it.”
“Oh. Okay”
“Alone.”
Tobio blinks. “Alright.”
“In the bathroom.”
“Sure.”
(This is embarrassing.)
Tobio collects the first aid kit he used and hands them to Atsumu. He helps Atsumu in standing up and assists him in walking towards the bathroom. Tobio’s strong big hands on Atsumu’s waist are light and soft. Like always.
“Thanks.”
Tobio nods and goes back to the living room. Atsumu peels his eyes away from his retreating back and locks the bathroom door. He begins to remove his pants carefully so as to avoid grazing his wound. Atsumu does the same thing Tobio did earlier but his hands are a lot less gentle, a lot more aggressive. Maybe he should’ve let Tobio do this.
Once he’s finished, he doesn’t immediately go back to the living room. He wets a handful of tissues and dabs it on his face. Atsumu looks at his reflection in the mirror.
He’s seen himself in this mirror under this bright bathroom lights a lot of times already but this is the first time he thinks his reflection is a stranger to this place.
(Maybe he’s already a stranger to this place.)
Atsumu finds Tobio in the kitchen. He’s seated on a wooden bar stool (the one they bought at IKEA; a spur of the moment decision), face leaning on one hand. Atsumu doesn’t announce his presence. He takes his time to appreciate the scene in front of him — something that he wasn’t able to do for a long time. Tobio is staring at the table, lips drawn in a pout and brows furrowed.
He looks . . . adorable. Endearing. Cute. Kissable. Lovely.
“Miya-san.”
Atsumu removes his back from the wall at the mention of his name.
“Hey, Tobio-kun.” Yes. Tobio-kun. Not Tobio. Back to using honorifics. Hearing Miya-san from Tobio prompted Atsumu to be polite. (The word PETTY pops up in his head in big black bold letters, the handwriting a lot similar to Osamu’s.)
He walks over (or limps, if he’s being honest) to the other, totally ignoring the pain in every step. He sits on the bar stool in front of Tobio and tries to give him a nonchalant smile, just to play it cool, but he thinks it just looks pained given Tobio’s reaction.
“Are you okay now?”
“Yup. Very okay.”
“Do you want something to eat?” Tobio asks. “I have ramen.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Milk? Coffee? Tea?”
Atsumu contemplates for a moment. Then, “Milk is fine.”
“Okay.”
Tobio stands up and opens his refrigerator. He takes out two milk cartons and gives the other to Atsumu.
“You changed your brand?”
Tobio hums. He sits back on his bar stool. “I wanted to try other flavors and the other milk brand doesn’t really offer much.”
“But you love that brand. It was always on the top of your grocery list.”
Tobio gives him a strange look. “Who says I don’t love it anymore?”
“Oh. Just an assumption.”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
“I know.”
The two of them finish their drink in silence.
“You done?”
“Yeah.”
Tobio takes the empty milk carton from Atsumu and throws it in the trash. The deafening silence inundated them once again.
One, two, three, four —
Atsumu clears his throat. “I’ll go back to my apartment.”
“Do you want me to walk you there?”
“No, it’s okay.”
“But your foot —”
“Is fine. I can go home by myself,” Atsumu says. “But thanks, anyway. I’m seriously okay.”
Tobio nods at him. “I’ll lead you to the door.”
I know where the door is, Atsumu doesn’t say. He knows this apartment like the back of his hand already.
Nonetheless, when Tobio exits the kitchen and goes to the living room, Atsumu follows him. Tobio takes his backpack and hands them to Atsumu.
“Thanks, Tobio-kun.” Atsumu says. Tobio lifts the corners of his mouth in reply and heads towards the door, Atsumu walking behind him.
“Bye, Miya-san.” Tobio gives him another smile. Atsumu wonders if it’s genuine or not.
“Bye, Tobio-kun.”
The first thing Atsumu does when he enters his shared apartment with Osamu is plop down onto the futon in their living room. Screaming into the pillows is what he does next.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!”
He lifts his head and sees his twin wearing his obnoxious onigiri pajamas. “‘Samu!”
“What?”
“Why do you look like that?”
“Me? Have you seen yourself?” Osamu scrunches his nose in annoyance. He saunters towards the couch and sits on the vacant space near Atsumu’s feet. As you would expect, Atsumu kicks him in the stomach.
“What the fuck?!” Osamu growls and moves away from him. Atsumu sticks his tongue out at him in retaliation. The two of them throw daggers at each other until Osamu asks him “What happened to your face?”
“I fell on my skateboard.”
“Stupid,” Osamu says. Atsumu made a face at him but didn't deny the statement. Crashing on a skateboard is stupid but it’s an accident. It’s not like Atsumu wanted to fall and eat shit.
He shoots another glare at Osamu.
The silence stretches on for a while; after a few seconds, Osamu stands up to go to their kitchen. Atsumu lies on his back and stares at the ceiling.
Now that the earlier events are slowly sinking into him, he can’t actually believe he saw Tobio again. He can’t accept that he had to crash on his skateboard for it to happen. At this point, he’s convinced the universe is playing tricks on him. Unfunny tricks. Lame jokes. Unhumorous sense of humor.
Osamu comes back to the living room with a glass of water in one hand and a tablet in the other. He sits back down and hands them to Atsumu.
When Atsumu raises his brow in question, Osamu answers him with a shrug. “Tylenol,” he says. “Pain reliever.”
This fucker.
Atsumu sits up. He hides the smile forming on his face as he pops the tablet into his mouth and downs it with water. “Thanks.” He lies back down on the couch again.
“Whatever.”
Another beat of silence follows after that. But it’s not awkward or heavy. It’s not deafening either.
(It’s not like silence with Tobio.)
“I saw Tobio today.”
Atsumu takes a deep breath. This is the first time he’s talked about Tobio to Osamu in two months. The last time he did, he did the embarrassing act of bawling his eyes out in front of his twin. He vowed to himself that it will never happen again.
“Went to his apartment too.”
Osamu gives him a questioning look.
“What?” Atsumu asks.
“Is that why you skipped class?”
Atsumu abruptly sits up to give his brother a piercing glare for the third time this day. “No.”
Osamu laughs under his breath and Atsumu wants to punch him right in the face.
“You skipped class for your ex.”
Atsumu wants to punch him so bad.
“The fuck?” Atsumu doesn’t punch Osamu but he throws a pillow at him. “I was injured, cut me some slack.”
Osamu raises his hand in fake surrender and laughs once more. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, ‘Tsumu.”
“It’s true!”
“You would’ve never skipped class even if you’re injured.”
Atsumu clicks his tongue. Maybe he should actually punch Osamu right in the face just to teach him a lesson. “I would, dumbass.”
“No, something tells me you did it because of Tobio.” Atsumu throws another pillow at him, then another, and when there’s no more pillows left he picks up a chemistry book lying on the floor and hurls it at Osamu.
“Fuck you!”
Osamu just laughs at him like the little piece of shit that he is.
“You’re so insufferable.”
“You’re so insufferable,” Osamu mimics in a childish voice.
“You know what? I’ll just sleep in my room before you annoy me any further.”
“You sounded really mature just now.” Osamu grins at him. “Do that more.”
Atsumu leaves the room and limps towards his bedroom as fast as he can before Osamu can blurt out more gibes. He decides he’s just going to sleep the whole day since he doesn’t want to think about the consequences of him skipping class. That’s a problem for future Atsumu.
The last thing he hears before he closes the door is a loud “Don’t hurt yourself!”
(He already did.)
Atsumu wakes up because of the continuous ringing of his cellphone. His digital clock says it’s currently 18:09.
INCOMING CALL: SHOUYOU
He doesn’t think twice before answering the call. “Hey, Shouyou-kun.”
Atsumu hears shuffling on the other side. “Hi, Atsumu-san!”
Even when he’s somewhat static on the line, Shouyou’s voice is still warm and mellow to his ears. Atsumu can’t help but smile.
“What’s up?”
“How are you?” Atsumu can imagine the worry etched on Shouyou’s face — brows furrowed and his bottom lip bitten.
“I’m fine.”
“I’m really, really sorry, Atsumu-san.”
Atsumu sighs. He knew it would take a lot of convincing for Shouyou to believe him.
“Shouyou-kun, it’s okay.” Atsumu assures. He fiddles with the loose threads on his sweater as he waits for Shouyou to speak. He hears the sliding of a door followed by the sound of wind.
“Sorry. Went out to the balcony.” Atsumu hears the screeching of a chair against tiles. “I, um, yelled out to you a while ago because . . . it’s been so long since I last talked to you.”
The guilt he’s long since buried creeps up in Atsumu’s chest. He knows it’s partially his fault they haven’t spoken to each other.
He doesn’t know what to tell Shouyou. Should he apologize? Should he explain himself?
Atsumu decides to go with the former. A safer route — one with less words to say, less wounds to open. “Sorry, Shouyou-kun.”
He doesn't explain himself. Shouyou knows him well enough to understand. Shouyou always understands.
“It’s okay, I just wanted to catch up on you,” Shouyou tells him. Atsumu truly cannot fathom how an understanding and caring person like Shouyou is his friend. With all the misfortune in Atsumu’s life, he thinks he got lucky with Shouyou.
“Alright.” Atsumu says.
“Mind if we talk a bit longer?”
He knows Shouyou can’t see him but he grins nevertheless. “No.”
He thinks Shouyou beams at him on the other line too.
He really misses you, Atsumu-san.
The digital clock hanging on his wall says the time is 23:04. It’s been hours since his call with Shouyou but his voice still echoes in his mind like a broken cassette tape.
But you know him, he’s . . . stubborn.
Atsumu stares at his window. From here, the moon looks big and cold and haunting. He wonders if Tobio is looking at the moon too.
Maybe you should talk to him.
Atsumu chuckles to himself. Tobio is stubborn, there’s no doubt about that. But if anything, Atsumu is even more stubborn and petty and hardheaded. That’s why he never reached out to Tobio in the first place.
We both know you still . . .
Atsumu stopped Shouyou before he could continue his sentence. No. It’s one thing to wish for it but it’s another to hear it out loud and he can’t bear to hear it out loud. Because hearing it out loud means it’s real. It’s real and true and another bitter reminder that they’re not together anymore.
Atsumu looks at the time. 23:11.
He stares at the ceiling long enough that the cream color bleeds into a mixture of brown and blue, black and blonde, and instead of glow in the dark stars he sees trembling lips and tear stained cheeks.
“I’m just tired of everything.”
“Even me? Even us?”
Atsumu doesn’t answer him. Then, “I just don’t understand.”
“Then try!” He blinks back his tears. “Atsumu, please try.”
“I am trying! But I just don’t get why it’s so easy for you to leave me.”
“It’s not easy for me to leave you.”
“But you’ll still do it either way —”
His eyes snap open when he hears his phone vibrate. Atsumu grunts. He must have fallen asleep.
NEW MESSAGE: Tobio
Atsumu’s breath hitches in his throat. He unlocks his phone and opens the message with shaking fingers.
[23:30]
Tobio:
Miya-san
Atsumu worries his bottom lip with his teeth as he stares at the message, his fingers hovering on the keyboard as he thinks of a reply. This is the first time Tobio has texted him in three months.
[23:31]
Tobio:
Are you awake?
You forgt your skateboard
forgot*
Shit. How the hell did Atsumu forget his own skateboard?
[23:32]
Atsumu:
hey
ill get it tom
It isn’t long before he receives another text.
[23:33]
Tobio:
Should I leave it in your apartment?
Since your ankle is sprained
[23:33]
Atsumu:
no its ok
lets just meet at the park
5pm?
[23:34]
Tobio:
Okay.
Atsumu types a quick okay then adds a smiley face at the end for good measure. He locks his phone straight away and forces himself to sleep. He doesn’t want to overthink his conversation with Tobio. He doesn’t want to think about why the other messaged him now when he didn’t even try to before.
ii.
Atsumu finds Tobio seated on a bench facing the river side. He has his head tilted up to the sky, eyes closed and pink lips formed in a slight pout. The sun casts a warm glow to his face. He looks peaceful and a lot more beautiful like this.
“Tobio-kun.”
Tobio opens his eyes in that slow, languid way of his and Atsumu is completely enamoured. Tobio tilts his head down and stares at the quiet water below him for a couple of seconds. God.
“Hi, Miya-san.”
God.
Atsumu returns a smile and walks towards Tobio. He sits on the opposite side of the bench, his skateboard separating the two of them.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“No.”
“Do you want to eat?”
Atsumu is taken aback by the question, to say the least. He thought that Tobio would return his skateboard and then they’d go back to their respective lives, that’s it. In all honesty, he didn’t expect that he’d be spending more than five minutes here.
He doesn’t let his surprise show though.
“Sure,” he replies.
They’re in front of a bubble tea kiosk. (Their favorite bubble tea kiosk.)
They both decided they weren’t hungry enough for a real meal so they chose to go here. Atsumu already finished ordering his drink: taro milk tea with cream puff and tapioca pearls, 25% sugar. He stands beside Tobio as he patiently waits for the other to order.
A few seconds pass by. He looks at the barista and gives them an apologetic smile. Atsumu nudges Tobio with his elbows but the other doesn’t even spare him a glance. He’s still staring at the menu with a slight frown on his face. Atsumu sighs but lets him take his time.
“I’ll have a passion fruit tea, 0% sugar.” Tobio finally says. He pays for his drink and moves to the side to give place for the other customers in line. Atsumu follows him.
“Why did it take you long to order?” Atsumu asks as he leans his back against the brick wall.
Tobio looks at him. “Out of habit, I guess,” he answers.
Atsumu tilts his head in confusion. “Out of habit?”
“You used to order for me, Miya-san,” he says, voice monotonous like most times, as if he’s reciting the periodic table. As if his words don’t carry any weight at all. As if every word didn’t send a sharp pang to Atsumu’s chest.
“You could have.” Atsumu clears his throat. “You could have . . . asked me to order for you.”
He doesn’t know what reaction he expected from Tobio but it was definitely not a chuckle. Atsumu watches him as he looks down and kicks a pebble to the ground. The stone slides on the pavement and stops near someone else’s foot. Tobio sighs.
He turns his head to stare at Atsumu with those deep blue eyes of his.
“Things are different now, Miya-san.”
Oh.
Atsumu mentally offers a string of curses to whoever god is listening because why does the truth hurts so fucking bad?
It’s not the first time that he didn’t know what to say and it certainly wouldn’t be the last so he opts to stay silent. Things are different now, Atsumu won’t deny that, but at least silence with Tobio is still familiar (even if it’s not as comfortable anymore).
He’s thankful when the barista calls out their names because it brings an end to their awkward silence even if only for a moment. The two of them take their orders and Atsumu awkwardly waits for Tobio to say something but he just walks away without a word. Should I follow him? Is he expecting me to follow him?
His questions were answered when Tobio looks back at him and says “Aren’t you going to follow?”
Atsumu beams at him. Yes. He walks towards Tobio. Yes, I'll follow you.
They’re seated back at the bench again, wordlessly sipping their drinks. The sun is starting to set now, pink and purple kissing the still water below them. Watching the sunset while drinking bubble tea is not something exes should do, Atsumu muses. Especially if:
- the ex in question looks breathtaking as the light accentuates his features,
- his lips look a lot more kissable — pink and shiny and wet; and
- he’s still not over him (he doesn’t think he will be any time soon).
Atsumu, as expected, turns a blind eye to all of it.
“Miya-san.”
“Hm?” Atsumu hums. He removes the plastic lid from his cup and scoops the cream puff sticking on the sides with his straw, then he brings the straw to his mouth and licks the cream off it. When he looks at Tobio he finds the other staring at his lips. “Wanna taste?”
Saying suggestive things isn’t something exes should do either, a voice at the back of his mind says. Atsumu ignores it again.
Tobio quickly looks away but Atsumu still notices the pink dusting the tip of his ears. “No,” he firmly says. Before Atsumu can tease him about it, Tobio stands up and takes Atsumu’s skateboard with him.
“Mind if I use it for a while?”
Atsumu shakes his head. “No. Go ahead.”
Tobio places the skateboard flat on the ground. He stands on it, the position of his feet admirable, and gives himself a push. Atsumu doesn’t peel his eyes off Tobio’s back even when he’s at least a few meters away from him already.
Tobio is good at a lot of things and that includes skateboarding. Atsumu remembers the time they went street skating at 2 AM because they didn’t want to study for their finals. Tobio wasn’t great at the sport back then, and when he tried to do a simple jump of a ramp, he painfully fell on his ass. It used to be a funny memory. To some extent it still is, but it gives a certain sense of nostalgia now, especially when Tobio is visibly a lot better; he can even already do a heelflip, something he once told Atsumu he would never be able to do.
Atsumu relishes the opportunity to watch Tobio roam around on his skateboard. There is something breathtaking about the wind ruffling his hair and the mellow sky kissing his skin. He looks marvelous. He looks free.
He looks happy.
He glides and spins and flips around and Atsumu still doesn’t take his eyes off him. He wants to commit to his memory the way the muscles in his thighs strain against his jeans when he jumps and how his collarbones peek through his shirt every now and then. But most of all, Atsumu wants to memorize the way Tobio’s eyes glint in satisfaction when he successfully lands a trick.
(He wants Tobio to look at him with nothing but happiness in his eyes too.)
Atsumu doesn’t know how much time passed but he finds himself secretly wishing for more when Tobio starts to skate his way back to him. Please slow down please slow down please slow —
Tobio skids to a halt in front of him and for a second Atsumu had the sudden urge to shake him and ask a flurry of questions — why? how? since when? — in the hopes that the answers will stumble out of his lips, and Atsumu will pick up all of it and will be able to finally understand.
He doesn’t though. Atsumu merely grins at Tobio and asks him “Did you enjoy it?”
Tobio shrugs. “I guess,” he says. A typical answer. Tobio is not one to admit his emotions after all.
“Let’s go home?”
A look akin to disappointment flashes through his face but it’s gone within a few heartbeats. “Yeah, sure.”
Atsumu stands up. “Okay,” he says. Tobio hands him his skateboard.
He points to Atsumu’s ankle. “Do you want me to walk you home?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Tobio pauses for a moment. “Sure?”
“Yes.” Atsumu gives him a small smile. “But thank you for offering.”
Atsumu risked a glance at Tobio, something he immediately regretted because sadness is written all over him, what with the way his brows are furrowed and his eyes are a little bit glassy.
Maybe Atsumu is overthinking. Maybe none of that means anything.
(But he has known Tobio for a long time now. He has seen that look before.)
Atsumu looks down on his skateboard so he doesn’t have to discern the expression on Tobio’s face but he still feels the heavy weight of his gaze on him. “Okay,” Tobio says after a while.
Atsumu lifts his gaze back at him, the poignant look on his face already gone. “I guess I’ll go now,” he says. “Bye, Tobio-kun.”
“Bye, Miya-san.”
Atsumu turns around and wills his feet to move lest he do something stupid like ask Tobio why is there a sad look on his face or worse , kiss the sadness away — something exes should definitely not do. (For once, Atsumu actually listens to his thoughts.)
So Atsumu walks away. Away from Tobio, away from the night sky in his eyes, and away from the questions he will never ask.
[21:19]
Tobio:
Miya-san
Thank you
For today
[21:24]
Atsumu:
sure
thank you as well
i enjoyed today!
[21:27]
Tobio:
:)
[21:28]
Atsumu:
:DD
seen 21:30
iii.
In the following days, Atsumu doesn’t come across Tobio. He doesn’t meet him at a party (not that Atsumu attended any in the first place), he doesn’t meet him at a coffee shop (Atsumu has been to four different coffee shops within a week), and he doesn’t crash his skateboard either.
But he meets another dark-haired boy, one with green eyes instead of blue, sprawled on his couch at six o’clock in the morning.
“What are you doing here?”
Rintarou lazily turns his head to look at Atsumu, his droopy eyes landing on him.
“I slept here.”
Atsumu frowns. “What? Why did ‘Samu not tell me?” he says, voice laced with irritation.
“He texted you.” Rintarou yawns, then he brings his gaze towards the ceiling. “You were already asleep when we got here.”
Atsumu rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he says. He trudges towards the kitchen to satisfy the grumbling in his stomach, and when he opens the fridge he almost whoops in happiness because right in front of him is a bowl of miso soup, and it looks like there’s a lot of tofu and seaweed too. He was about to take the bowl out from the fridge when he heard the annoying voice of Rintarou say “You can’t eat that.”
Atsumu didn’t even notice his footsteps following him to the kitchen. “And why is that?” he says, eyes narrowed at him.
Rintarou doesn’t seem affected by his glare though. He looks at Atsumu, face obviously bored, and nonchalantly replies “It’s for Keiji.”
Atsumu clicks his tongue in annoyance. He wants to eat the miso soup to spite Rintarou (and Osamu) but Keiji doesn’t have to suffer just because his two boyfriends are aggravating and insufferable, so he doesn’t bother. Atsumu picks up an apple instead and begins to bitterly munch on it.
Rintarou is still standing on the doorway, arms crossed, his calculating eyes boring into Atsumu.
“What?”
“No offense,” Rintarou begins, then he uncrosses his arms and leans his back on the wall, “but you look . . . awful.”
Atsumu stops chomping on his apple. He knew the insults would inevitably come, but he really doesn’t want to deal with Rintarou's taunts this early in the morning.
“First of all, saying no offense doesn’t give you a free pass to say something offensive.” Rintarou only chuckles at this. Atsumu wants to kick him. “And second, you think you’re better yourself?”
Rintarou just shrugs. “I’m not the one without a boyfriend between the two of us.”
Atsumu almost almost moves from his place to give Rintarou a piece of his mind, but he restrains himself. No, he knows better than this. He will not give the reaction Rintarou wants from him. It doesn’t mean that he won’t do anything though — he’s not that forbearing — so he raises his middle finger and mouths fuck you at least a couple of times.
“I share the same sentiment,” Rintarou says. He rubs his eyes, then removes his back from the wall. “By the way, there’s a party at Kuroo’s on Friday. ‘Samu wanted me to tell you.”
With that, he turns around and leaves an incredibly annoyed Atsumu alone in the kitchen.
Atsumu huffs. “Whatever,” he says to himself. “I’m not going anyway.”
He ends up going to the party.
It turns out that Osamu is a lot more persuasive than Atsumu gave him credit for because he’s currently seated at the back of Rintarou’s car besides Keiji instead of bundled up in his room. Few blocks more and they will already be at Kuroo’s.
Atsumu hums along the music playing on the radio, BLU-SWING’s Sunset on full volume, the speakers vibrating every time the song hits a beat. He closes his eyes and lets the smooth electro pop drown his annoyance at being dragged to a party he had no intentions of attending in the first place.
A huge sigh leaves his mouth. Well, it is what it is.
Atsumu senses the car slowing down and when he opens his eyes he sees the familiar flashing of red and blue lights through the glass windows; from where the car is parked it looks like the living room is filled with people already.
The four of them step out of the car. Atsumu looks at his reflection in the car window and smiles when he sees himself. He may have been forced to go to this party but that doesn’t mean he didn’t make an effort to make himself look good. He’s wearing a plain white cotton shirt with a navy blue bomber jacket on top, paired with denim jeans that highlights the curves of his ass and black stomper shoes. Most importantly, he’s sporting a red eyeliner.
He hasn’t felt this confident with himself in a long time.
“‘Tsumu, let’s go!” Osamu yells. Atsumu takes one last look at his reflection, then hurries towards Osamu. The two of them walk through the doors.
Atsumu should not have come here.
Not only did he lose sight of Osamu, Rintarou and Keiji the very moment he stepped into the room, he also did not like the assortment of liquor at hand. Seriously, who thought having watered-down beers was a good idea? The only redeeming factor of this party is the music: a playlist of classic indie rock, the tracks ranging from Haiki to Hue’s. At least they did a nice job with the song choices.
That’s what he thought five minutes ago, before the absolute misfortune of a drunk freshman spilling beer on his shirt occurred to him. Now, even the voice of Satsuki Teramoto is not enough to draw out his irritation.
He really should not have come here.
Eventually, Atsumu moves his way through the sea of people in search of the bathroom. Every single person his eyes landed on are drunk and ecstatic, and for a second Atsumu wanted to push them out of bitterness. Fortunately, he finds the bathroom and locks himself inside before his annoyance could get the best of him.
Atsumu huffs. He removes his shirt and splashes water on his face, not bothering to open the lights. He heaves a sigh, then another, and he’s about to let out another one when a voice says “Miya-san.”
His whole body tenses. The voice is deep and rich, a little quiet and difficult to hear; it sounds a lot like —
“Miya-san?”
Atsumu hastily turns on the lights and when his eyes finally adjusted to the sudden brightness, he catches sight of Tobio in the bathtub straight away, his face flushed and his eyes hazy.
Atsumu couldn’t find his voice, not when his throat was constricted at the mere sight of the other. After a few tries, he manages to let out “Tobio.”
“Hey.”
“What are you doing here?”
Tobio leans his head on his knees. “I wanted to escape the party.”
“Oh.” Atsumu studies him. “How did you know it was me?”
“I would always know if it was you.”
He gives Tobio an incredulous look, but he does not seem to notice.
“Why are you topless?” Tobio points a finger to Atsumu’s bare chest, something Atsumu knows he won’t do if he were sober.
Atsumu clears his throat. “A random guy spilled on my shirt.”
Tobio doesn’t say anything after that; he just focuses his eyes on Atsumu, his stares shifting from Atsumu’s face to his chest. Atsumu examines him too. Tobio is wearing sheer black long sleeves tucked in denim ripped jeans, the piercing on his lip gleaming under the bathroom lights. From here, Atsumu can see that the other got an undercut. (His heart thumps disturbingly at his ribcage.)
“Hey,” Tobio mumbles.
“What?”
“Want to join me here?” Tobio asks, his eyes a lot less clouded now.
“In—uh—in the bathtub?”
To Atsumu’s surprise, Tobio lets out a small laugh, the gentle sound going straight to his heart. His stomach flutters in the way Tobio’s eyes slightly crinkles.
“Where else?”
Don’t agree don’t agree don’t —
“Oh—okay. Yeah.”
(He has always been weak when it comes to Tobio.)
Atsumu takes a deep breath, then he steps inside the bathtub and sits across from Tobio. The ceramic is cold against his bare skin.
In the quiet of the bathroom, the muffled drums and guitar of ofulover’s Kawaki sounds like a distant whisper. Atsumu watches as Tobio drums his fingernails and nods his head along the beat, eyes closed and mouth slightly parted.
“New tattoo?”
“Huh?”
Tobio opens his eyes and studies him. “On your back, you have a new tattoo.”
Unconsciously, Atsumu cranes his neck to look at his recent back tattoo: a portion of Jean-Michael Basquiat’s Per Capita — blue crown over red, the word asbestos inked under it. He brings his gaze back to Tobio. “Yeah.”
“When did you get it?”
“One week after . . . we broke up,” Atsumu says.
Tobio nods. “How’s your ankle?”
“A lot better.”
“That’s good.” Tobio inches nearer to Atsumu. He moves closer and closer and closer until their faces are mere inches apart. Atsumu finds himself getting lightheaded the more he looks at Tobio's eyes — the pupils the tiniest bit dilated and the irises a darker blue. He brings his gaze down to Atsumu’s lips and Atsumu waits with bated breath for Tobio to do something, anything.
“Miya-san,” Tobio says, his warm breath tickling Atsumu.
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to drink?”
Atsumu blinks. “What?”
“I said,” he begins, “do you want to drink?”
No. Atsumu should say no. Nothing good will come out of drinking with his ex whom he has been desperately trying (and completely failing) to move on from.
“I—Yeah. Okay.”
Tobio gives him a soft smile. “Okay.”
Tobio comes back into the bathroom clasping ten cans of chūhai: double lemon and double grapefruit flavors. When Atsumu raises a brow at him, Tobio just shrugs. “Five for you and five for me,” he says.
“That’s a lot,” Atsumu points out.
“I know.” He steps inside the bathtub and sets down the alcohol. “You don’t have to drink all of it.”
Atsumu huffs a small laugh. “That’s a lie.”
“Maybe it is.” Tobio opens two cans and hands one to Atsumu. “Drink up.”
Atsumu does.
First can down — you’re so lovely. The alcohol still hasn’t kicked off so Atsumu is still pretty much sober but his mind is starting to get loud with thoughts of Tobio. Tobio and his pink lips, Tobio and his blue eyes, Tobio and his flushed skin, Tobio, Tobio, Tobio.
“You look . . .”
Tobio, who was previously staring at the ceiling, peers down at him. “What?”
“Good. You look good.”
Tobio laughs under his breath. “Where did that come from?”
From the way you look divine under this dim bathroom light, and I could lose myself in your divinity over and over again.
He doesn’t tell him that though. “Just accept the compliment,” is what Atsumu says instead.
Second can down — I want to touch you. A few drops of alcohol fell on Tobio’s shirt and now he smells fruity and sweet, and Atsumu wants to touch him. Tobio downs his second can of chūhai and Atsumu wants to touch him. He tugs his lip ring and Atsumu wants to touch him.
He doesn’t touch him, but inside this tiny bathtub their legs are cramped and tangled, and Atsumu cherishes it all the same.
Third can down — I want to kiss you. The alcohol in his bloodstream is making his head pound against his skull yet it’s still underwhelming compared to his whole body thrumming with the desire to kiss Tobio. Atsumu notices the rivulet of alcohol that didn’t meet his mouth; it trickles down his neck creating a thin stream of gold and, god, Atsumu wants to taste it.
“Tobio.”
“Yeah?”
I want to kiss you.
“Can I try that flavor?”
I’d like to taste it from your lips.
Tobio nods and gives him the can he’s holding, their hands momentarily brushing against each other. Atsumu takes a sip of the alcohol and he knows. He knows that Tobio’s mouth is a lot sweeter than this.
Fourth can down — I miss you. The bathroom light is a lot brighter and it makes everything in the room—from the ceramic tiles to the marble sink—a lot harsher, all except for Tobio. If anything, Tobio looks a lot softer: skin covered in a sheen of sweat, hair messy, eyes sleepy.
This is how he looks in the morning, back when Atsumu would wake up and see Tobio lying beside him.
If Atsumu closed his eyes, he could pretend that this is just another one of those mornings.
Fifth can — I am still in love with you. Atsumu is drunk and intoxicated and sick to his stomach and madly in love with Tobio.
“Miya-san,” Tobio says, tripping on the syllables.
Atsumu says nothing. The room is already spinning and Atsumu is afraid to open his mouth lest the words he always swallowed down would stumble out of his lips.
“Miya-san.”
“What,” Atsumu whispers, an attempt to regain some semblance of self-control.
“Aren’t you cold?”
“No.”
“Can I touch your tattoo?”
For a second Atsumu felt like he is at the top of a roller coaster, any moment now and he will fall, and he does fall — he is falling at an exhilarating speed and he should say no, please don’t but he mumbles yeah, okay anyway; he agrees like he always does.
Atsumu turns around. He hears Tobio move closer and then there’s already a warm hand touching his back. Tobio traces a finger on his tattoo, his touch light and familiar, and Atsumu lets out a shaky breath.
Undersign’s escape is on full blast but inside this tiny bathroom it sounds like a song from a half remembered dream.
One, two, three —
The warmth of Tobio’s hand is gone from his back, and when Atsumu glances at him over his shoulder he sees that the other is back to his earlier position, eyes avoiding him.
Atsumu stares at him for a good couple of seconds. He thinks about the words buried deep inside his chest. He thinks about the empty cans of chūhai scattered on the bathtub, souvenirs of this moment.
He thinks about how all of this will only be a distant memory come morning.
iv.
[08:09]
Osamu:
yo
went out w/ keiji n rin
be back at night i think
theres food on the table
eat it or else ill kick you
also
why tf are u w tobio in the bathroom
scratch that
why tf are u with tobio while TOPLESS in the bathroom
?????????
[14:20]
Atsumu:
how tf did i get home
thanks btw
[14:25]
Osamu:
we dragged ur drunk ass to the car
answer my question
[14:25]
Atsumu:
i dont think i was that drunk lol
i think i fell asleep
and to answer ur question
none of ur fucking business
[14:27]
Osamu:
fuck u actually
did u
fuck
lol
[14:28]
Atsumu:
IN THE BATHROOM??!
[14:28]
Osamu:
?????
i think uve done worse
[14:29]
Atsumu:
shut the fuck up
[14:30]
Osamu:
ANSWER MY QUESTION
[14:32]
Atsumu:
someone spilled their drink on my shirt
went to the bathroom n found tobio there
drank alcohol
THATS IT
[14:34]
Osamu:
no offense but ur stupid
drinking with ur ex
lmao
[14:35]
Atsumu:
fuck you
why r u on ur phone anyway
are ur bfs not giving u time ? aw
[14:37]
Osamu:
oh u think u did something huh?
[attachment: image]
[14:39]
Atsumu:
fuck all 3 of u
[14:46]
Osamu:
ok
also
take care of yourself
n ur heart
yuck ur so ugly
[14:48]
Atsumu:
????
btw how did tobio get home
[14:49]
Osamu:
shouyou took him home
[14:52]
Atsumu:
ok
seen 14:58
Atsumu calls Tobio.
Where he got the courage to call him for the first time in three months without the influence of alcohol, he does not know.
When the ringing stopped and Tobio said “Hello?” Atsumu almost dropped his phone. He should not have done this. He should have just called Shouyou.
But he can’t end the call now, so Atsumu says “Hi.”
“Hello.”
Atsumu hesitates. “Hi.”
“Hello.”
“Are we just gonna say hi and hello?”
Atsumu wants to kick himself. Why did he say that? He should not have said that.
Thankfully, Tobio doesn’t mention it. “Why did you call?”
“I—um—wanted to know if you got home safely.”
Atsumu nibbles on his bottom lip as he waits for Tobio to answer. Would Tobio be mad that Atsumu called instead of texting? Would he be annoyed that the reason is trivial? Would he think that it’s such a waste of —
“I got home safely, Miya-san.” A pause. “Thank you for asking.”
“Good.”
“Is that it?”
“Oh, sorry. Yeah, that’s it. Sorry.”
“Hey,” Tobio says in a soft-spoken voice. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just . . .”
Atsumu hears rushed footsteps and the loud thud of a door closing in the background. “Tobio?”
“Sorry, sorry.”
“What happened?”
“I just left the apartment,” Tobio answers. “Miya-san, I’m gonna go—”
“Where are you going?” Atsumu blurts out. He bites his lip and digs his fingernails into his palms. God, what was he thinking?
Tobio remains quiet on the other line. Atsumu imagines the furrow in his brows as he contemplates his sudden question. Before Atsumu can take his question back, Tobio vaguely answers “Coffee shop.”
Coffee shop. There’s only one coffee shop Tobio goes to.
“Okay.”
Tobio ends the call.
[16:08]
Atsumu:
hey
would you mind
if i go there?
[16:14]
Tobio:
No, I won’t mind.
Atsumu steps on his skateboard and pushes himself off the ground.
He rushes down the busy street, steering clear of civilians. The afternoon wind is cold and biting against his skin. There’s a dull throbbing on his ankle, begging him to slow down, but he pays no attention to it.
Atsumu skates his way towards the coffee shop with ease, the direction familiar to him like the back of his hand.
(Tobio introduced him to this place. He said: their kinako mochi tastes a lot like Kazuyo-san’s. )
He reaches the coffee shop five minutes earlier than he expected. He goes inside, skateboard in one hand, and spots Tobio seated on the far corner, his attention fixed on the laptop in front of him.
Atsumu doesn’t think twice before he moves his way towards Tobio.
Tap tap tap.
Atsumu watches Tobio.
Tap tap tap.
He watches Tobio as he swiftly types on his laptop, the keyboard making a continuous tapping sound.
Tap tap tap.
He watches the way Tobio brings the cup of coffee to his mouth, takes a sip for three seconds (sometimes it’s two, sometimes it’s four), then brings it back down to the table.
Tap tap tap.
He watches Tobio tuck his hair behind his ear, the silver ring on his finger catching the bright lights of the shop.
Tap tap tap.
Atsumu watches Tobio in silence, then he finally asks: “What are you doing?”
Tobio stops typing on his keyboard to look at him. “Revising my application essay.” When Atsumu furrows his brows, Tobio adds “For a scholarship in Italy.”
There’s an unexpected pang in his chest, like a sudden jump in a heartbeat, but it’s familiar.
Too familiar.
“Oh. Italy,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “You and Miwa-neesan are still going?”
Tobio studies him. “Yeah. She doesn’t want to miss the opportunity.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
Atsumu hesitates. “Why are you going?”
(He already asked this before.)
“Because my sister asked me to.”
(This was Tobio’s answer too.)
Then, Tobio adds “I don’t want her to be lonely.”
Atsumu finds himself giving Tobio a small smile, a genuine one, one without any hint of sadness. “That’s nice,” he says. “Your sister is lucky to have you.”
“Maybe,” Tobio says. “But I’m blessed to have her.”
Atsumu shifts in his seat. “So, when are you leaving?”
“In three days.”
Tobio’s words drown out any other noise. All he can hear is in three days and it’s deafening despite being said in a quiet voice. It’s harsh and grating to the ears even if the words came out from Tobio’s soft lips.
Atsumu blinks, then he blinks again. “That’s sooner than expected,” he says, voice thick. “I thought you would go when the semester ends?”
“Change of plans.”
“Ah. That’s why.”
A few moments of silence, then “Are you mad at me?”
“No,” Atsumu says. “Why would I be angry at you?”
“Because I didn’t tell you.”
“Tobio,” he starts, ignoring the dull throbbing in his chest, “you’re not obligated to tell me.” We’re not together anymore.
“But your eyes.”
“What about them?”
“They beg to differ.”
Atsumu hears the words Tobio doesn’t say. Your eyes look sad. Tobio asks him if he’s angry because it’s easier to deal with anger than sadness — it’s easier to look at angry eyes than sad ones.
“We both know it’s not anger that you see.”
“I—I am sorry,” Tobio says. “I tried to tell you, I really did, but I don’t know how because it’s the first time I’ve seen you in three months and I’m scared it’ll end up in another fight and—”
“No, Tobio. Listen to me.” Atsumu’s tongue is heavy, weighing him down with the words he should have said months ago. “I’m sorry for the words I said. For leaving. I know this apology is long overdue, but I’m really sorry Tobio, I’m so—”
Tobio shakes his head and then his warm hands are suddenly on top of Atsumu’s. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It will be,” Tobio says. “Besides, I’ve forgiven you a long time ago already.”
Tobio is so sure of his words, as if forgiving Atsumu is an easy feat. As if it wasn’t such an ordeal. The throbbing in his chest is getting hard to ignore and there’s a burning in his eyes that he wants to put out.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.
Tobio squeezes his hand, the gesture a lot more grounding that it should be. “That’s not for you to decide, Atsumu.”
Atsumu.
“Say it again.”
“What?”
“My name.”
Tobio smiles, bright and calming and lovely. “Atsumu.”
Yet there’s still a heavy weight in his chest—one-fourth sadness, one-fourth fear and one-half regret—that he can no longer be oblivious to.
“Tobio, I’m so sorry,” he begins, the words unsteady in his lips, “I just, I wish I could’ve done this sooner. I’m so dumb—I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have let three months go to waste like this, I should have never left—”
“But it shouldn’t matter anymore because you’re back here.”
“How can you say that? How is this so easy—”
“Atsumu,” Tobio begins, “let’s not dwell on the past anymore. It won’t do us any good.”
“Tobio—”
“And you know why it’s easy for me?” He stares at Atsumu with tenderness, with intimacy, with warmth . “It’s easy for me because it’s you.”
To a stranger’s eyes they might look like two boys conversing over mochi and hot chocolate, completely unaware that the two of them are slowly falling back to each other’s orbit after falling out of space.
“I—Thank you.”
“For what?”
For forgiving me. For everything that you are. For the love.
He steals a kinako mochi on Tobio’s plate and stuffs it on his mouth. “For this.”
Tobio burst into peals of laughter.
“Hey.”
Tobio looks at him.
“I love you.”
Atsumu counts the seconds. One, two —
Tobio plants a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I know.”
And then he walks away.
Atsumu doesn’t tell him don’t leave me. He doesn’t say don’t take too long.
What he says is this: when you come back, I promise I will love you better.
“Atsumu.”
It’s unfair that his name sounds lovelier when Tobio says it, like brown eyes dipped in moonlight.
(Tobio says his name a little sadder too.)
“Hey.”
Tobio pauses on the other line. “Atsumu,” he repeats, “you don’t have to wait for me, you know?”
“Tobio—”
“Two years is a long time, ‘Tsumu. What if you find someone else? You don’t have to waste your time—”
“Tobio, I would wait for you.” I don’t want anyone else. “You’re the only one I would ever wait for.”
v.
Atsumu misses another trick.
It’s been an hour since he went to this local skatepark, just ten minutes away from his apartment, and he has been trying to do a grind on the rails ever since. Out of fifteen tries, he only managed to do the trick once but he doesn’t count it as successful because he fell on his board right after he landed.
Atsumu sprawls on the cold pavement. In the cold of the night, his only company is his skateboard and the blanket of stars up above — the moon nowhere to be found.
Atsumu closes his eyes and imagines the moon next to Tobio, hidden among the clouds.
When he opens it again, he sees an airplane come into view.
One —
He stands up and tries again.
( Atsumu’s head is pounding. He has his eyes closed, but he’s vaguely aware that someone else is inside the bathroom.
“Tobio, let’s go home,” a voice that Atsumu cannot name the owner of says.
“Just a few more minutes, Shou.” Atsumu knows this voice. He would recognize this voice anywhere.
The intruder, Shou, sighs. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”
A pause.
“Because,” Tobio starts, “I don’t know if this will be the last.” )