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Kiyoomi was never good at communicating.
The mere thought of vocalizing his inner thoughts and feelings - to strip himself bare and exposed in the form of words made his skin crawl. Instead, he found solace in actions. His mother had always told him actions speak louder than words anyways.
Miya Atsumu was chaos in the form of a human. Meeting him 7 years since the all-japan youth training camp was merely a coincidence. Although the outside had changed, the foundation was still the same. Faded blonde hair still brought consistently gorgeous high sets. New muscle built through hours of training brought fiery remarks that sometimes lacked its usual bite. A new team brought a sense of family.
When Kiyoomi joined the MSBY Black Jackals, he was greeted with acceptance about his meticulous habits. Not one of his new-found teammates gave him pity and simply accepted it as a part of Kiyoomi that would stay constant - they respected his boundaries but made sure that he was integrated into the team. But there was always someone who went the extra mile. If Kiyoomi’s limits were a wall, Miya Atsumu was a bulldozer.
He would relentlessly tease Kiyoomi in hopes of god knows what, he would push his limits with thumps on his jacket covered back, he would try out pulls of his jacket at the elbow in to get his attention, and the worst was the endless bad pick up lines that he would tell Kiyoomi every single day.
“Hey Omi-kun, do ya have a pencil? ‘Cause I want to erase yer past and write our future.”
“No.”
“Excuse me are you hiring? I heard ya have an opening you need filled.”
“Stop.”
“There are a lot of fish in the sea, but yer the only one I'd like to mount and take back ta my place.”
“...That is morbid and disgustingly unhygienic, why would you ever want to do that.”
Despite everything, it had worked. If Kiyoomi found himself beside Atsumu at a crowded press event, not a peep came out of Atsumu’s mouth. If he accepted the thump of a fist on his back after a particularly good spike, the cheers of the fans would drown out the silence. If he started going to more team dinners, not a sentence of surprise or teasing was uttered.
4 months into playing with the Black Jackals, Kiyoomi started dating Atsumu.
Not a day goes by where he doesn’t ask himself how it happened. It was hard at first - accommodating for someone other than himself was hard on his habits, but he adjusted. Atsumu made it easy anyways. He always asked before touching him and was patient and understanding about Kiyoomi’s cleaning habits.
Each new touch was a like different form of exposure therapy. The first link of their pinkies made his heart beat speed up the slightest bit. The first time they held hands made his entire body feel warm. The first arm around his shoulder made him feel so small in his 6’3” body. Their first cuddle almost brought tears to his eyes. The first kiss on the forehead sent shivers down his spine. The first kiss on his lips made his brain go into overdrive. Atsumu was intoxicating, but he wouldn’t have traded it for the world.
The greatest challenge came in the form of them both having quick minds and sharp tongues. Atsumu would always complain about how Kiyoomi was a “too-blunt jerk” while Kiyoomi would do the same and call him a “narcissistic asshole”. Motoya had once told him that he was emotionally constipated. Kiyoomi spiked a ball straight into the back of his head that day.
There were the good days - days of calm, light teasing, lingering touches, melodious laughter, and gentle actions that screamed I care. And then there were the bad days. those days were the worst - tensions were at their highest, suffocating silences, short, snappy remarks, and an overbearing weight on both of their shoulders. But what was a relationship without it’s faults? Both of them were not too keen on apologizing vocally so they did it their way.
Apologies from Kiyoomi were small and simple. Making the first move to link their pinkies together, making Atsumu’s favourite food for dinner, or simply making him a cup of tea. Each one came naturally to him and brought relief greater than he ever could’ve imagined.
Apologies from Atsumu were unpredictable. There was always a new way that Atsumu would find to say “I’m sorry” without using words but his most frequent way was to get up in the morning and make the both of them breakfast. He was most definitely not a morning person, proved by the endless amounts of times he had to be woken up by Kiyoomi first, so it made him way more forgiving than he should’ve been.
No matter how bad it got, they both toughed it out as loving each other became a habit they just couldn’t drop. Kiyoomi found a way to express himself without using words and Atsumu was right beside him where he belonged.
If his heart still fluttered when Atsumu would bump their hips together in the morning, a squeeze of his hand was more than enough to get his feelings across.