Archive of Our Own

You wake up after falling asleep in his room to him watching an EJP match. He has on a different shirt to the one he slept in, and one of the several pairs of grey sweats he owns in surprising bulk. You hear the announcer mention Aran in a play by play. And rocks of despair fall into your stomach.

That match wasn't supposed to happen till this Friday. It was Monday when you fell asleep.

The rocks now weighing your stomach down cause acid to coat the back of your throat. Nausea and frustration push you to sit up. The room's other occupant finally acknowledges you with a casual "Good morning." You want to scream at him. How can he act this nonchalant. Your hands tighten in the soft bedding he uses. Teeth bite down on your lower lip. So hard an incisor cuts into chapped lips. The pain grounds you from trying to destroy everything.

You burn hot. You burn fast. You just burn.

"How." You start to grit out. Arms and lips shaking. Eyes threatening to spill your emotions. He cuts you off without even looking away from the television. "Just so you know. You don't wash your hands after using the bathroom when you 'sleep'." The deadpanned statement cut through you like a knife. Cutting into the rocks threatening to explode your stomach. Popping them like balloons.

"Asshole"

"I called your brother to come and take you after that but he said your my problem now" he sighs, finally looking at you. A crack in the curtains let's a panel of light fall across one eye. You catch the briefest glint of color in it, before it's lost in inky black. But you couldn't catch what color exactly.

There's an itch. An itch to know what it was. To tilt his head back to see if you can find it while you stand above where he sits. To see if you can decipher anything that swims in those deep dark depths. To search for something. To understand him. To see if they really belong to you alone. Would there be another you looking back behind them if so?

"Should've got'n a receipt, told ya he's worse than me. A real swindler."

He huffs a laugh through his nose looking back at the TV, a smirk, no, a smile dances on his lips. You swear you see a sliver of greyish green and blue in his eye when it passes back in the light. A swipe of tongue wet your lips as the itch from before twitches in you. Which color was it?

"Yeah." He chuckles out, looking down at where he presses a hand, broken at the wrist, down. Bones break, as he unconsciously tightens the hold he has around your ribs. Ribbons spill out from your punctured lungs, draping themselves over the mess that now makes up your chest cavity. You choke a bit on your breath, and your heart struggles to beat.

You want to cry. Happy, you woke up to this. To him.
You want to cry. Distraught to wake up to this. To him.

Distraught wins.

"Sakusa wh-"
"Does your mom have a return policy?"

You know why he's deflecting. You only frown and ask back "Does yours?" He considers this with a tilt of his head, lifting a knee up on the black couch he de-lints every 4 days. "I think the return warranty expired 23 years ago." You snort. His hands move, repeating patterns of stretches and pulls hovering over the ankle of the raised knee. His eyes never really seem to smile, but his hands do.

The ribbons in your chest move to crush your stomach and throat. Moving in the same motions of stretches and pulls. Fluid tugs have them skillfully woven around and inside you. One of his hands snap, the way his fingers move almost seem slow in your head as they pass through that patch of light. Your stomach is minced. You choke out "I love you"

His hands stop. Fingers stilling with the intent to pull, then curling as if holding something fragile. He hums, as if he didn't hear you clearly. But you know he did. His lips pull back to show teeth. Cheeks push up into emotionless eyes, creating creases of sparkles in the corners. His hands yell out to you that yes he did hear, loud and clear.

The ribbons wrap themselves around your mangle vocal cords. Their dark greyish monotoned colors clash against the wet reds of your insides. He shuts his hands, cupping them really. The motion pulls the ribbons. Puppeting you to action. "I said I hate you" you reiterate.

Finally he looks away from his hands to you. Leg moving down. Sakuas's smile makes you want to curl into yourself and hide. Unconsciously your arm wraps itself around your middle. Cradling the same feeling that was held softly within hands that seemed to smile. Now strung up by tangles of ribbons where your heart once was. Their fabrics now indiscernible, sitting within the three colors of grey, green and blue.

He gets up with the grace of water. Languid. He reaches you with three easy strides. Positions reversed, he tilts your head back with talkative hands that whisper and spill his emotions over your cheeks. His eyes don't seem like their searching but they are. When you look up into them you see yourself reflected in them. Another you, lying behind them, living in them.

As if his eyes were made just for you.

Your lips meet his easily, to you there wasn't really an emotion to describe it, or words but there was a moment.

It felt like when you ate Osamu's first onigiri he ever made for you. It wasn't his best since he was only 7. But there was a warmth in it that could hardly compete with the warmth in the ones he made now. But back then you didn't feel it. Not till you tried the first one he made after purchasing the restaurant. That was the only one that truly brought you fully back there to that time. It's warmth was different so it couldn't compete against it, but it made you finally feel that long forgotten one.

When you finished it, you wanted to go back. And relive it again. Just like now. You desperately want to relive every kiss you ever shared with Sakusa. But you can't. But you can live new ones, that maybe can't compete, but that's because they were so different it didn't matter.

When he pulls back the distraught you had flares back up. "Why didn't ya have someone move me to my room Omi? Why'd ya sit through that?" You beg, searching to know why he would want to watch you sleep for almost a whole week. Unresponsive, and dead. Moving robotically to do the barest of functions required.

" "
There's a tightening.

"You also didn't shower or brush your teeth, I tried giving you a bath but you're too fucking heavy to lug around" He squishes your cheeks after that. Pulling you into an arrogant smirk of a chaste kiss and off the bed. You narrow your eyes, hands seeking sides, finger pulling at taunt flesh, nails digging to pinch. He grunts but just pulls the fat that hides expertly on the planes of your face all the more out. Your hands move up to seek more sensitive targets. But he finally let's go to pull you into something more, to trap your hands before they can attack. He puffs into your mouth his glee. It doesn't last long, because he hisses when an opening of deepening allows you to quickly get a pinch in.

He finishes watching the game absentmindedly rubbing a circle over his left nipple while you start to head out to take a shower. Face expressionless, but his hands babbling away his plans for revenge.

He says you're obnoxiously loud most of the time. But his actions, you think, would always somehow beat how loud you can speak.

The stones are back, but with no stomach left to sink in, they simply pull the ribbons down. The weight sagging them. Barely holding them. The fragile feeling lifts just a bit high. More ribbons now cradle it.

When you get done, the match is over and he's moving to clean. The bed is stripped. His basket of laundry is by the door, open for your clothes to join his. A cup of coffee is cooling on the window sill, and the curtains have been pulled back. Sliding up against him, you join in as he wipes down the top of his dresser.

Shoulder to shoulder, methodically moving, you both finish at the same time. He pulls away to swap products. His frame, now out of the way, let's the light hit the surface. Allowing you to see how you did. He frowns when he catches it, on his way back. You just hum.

Your side has perfectly tight little circles of wiping. His wiggle in size just barely, creating a wobbly motion. You start to try and rewipe his side but he smacks your hand away lightly, playful. Even though his eyes have a hard edge to them. Now they are starting to speak. And conflict with the message his hands yell.

But soon those start to parrot the sentence his eyes have started to whisper. Yelling it to you as they clench and unclench. Tight and slow. He starts cleaning the mirror that's nearby. You move to join him, but whip around with a showy motion, to rewipe his side down. You yelp as hands grab at you, thanking you as he drags you away, eyes flashing annoyance.

He takes your cleaning supplies away for that. But his eyes have once again dulled their voice. Muting themselves. His hands go back to having an opinion of their own. The only option you can do is finally drink your coffee and watch. Watch and wonder.

"Hey, what do you think about when you think about me?"

"Headaches"

You throw a pillow at his ass for that. He goes to throw it back but stops thanks to the cup of coffee he made you. He scowls, you loudly slurp up your trump card. You see his eyebrows twitch up, hands twitching with them, flinging unsaid curses at you. You give a shit-eating grin. He turns back around, defeated for now. His hands talking amongst themselves of how the war isn't over. "Heh" you smugly chuckle out. He easily tells you to 'fuck off' with a silent obnoxious screech from a casual gesture.

"But for real, do you have something when you think of me? Like memories or things that remind you of me?" You ask, leaning to rest your cheek on a raised fist.

He's wiping the mirror in the tight circles you did on the dresser. There's the slightest shift in a flick, creating a tighter motion than before. His hands have shut up. His eyes are silent. He's not letting you in. The next flick is a little big, you see his hands shake just a smidge. A slip up. His mouth repeats it.

"A room."

A room?

"A room?" You repeat in curiosity.

A room.

What type of room? The kitchen where most of your relationship was built? Your bedroom that sits above his? Or is it a hospital room? That one makes the rocks barely held up by ribbons, that are the same color as his eyes, all the more heavier. Maybe it was the living room with the comfy couch he hates, where y'all watch movies with the team? Was it even a room that came from moments and memories you have together? Or was it a room specific to him? A room that lives in the way past? Something from childhood. Then you wonder maybe it was a gymnasium. A volleyball court. You want to know so badly, just like what his eye color really is.

You sit your coffee down mindlessly, it's been done for a while now. You were honestly just drinking scraps when he tried to return fire. You don't see him reach to the side. You just tilt your head up to the ceiling. A motion to repeat the feeling you have right now of trying to think. Of digging into your head.

You blink as the pillow hits you squarely in the face. He turns back around to clean, hands smugly laughing at you. Eyes silent in amusement. You don't try to get him back. You just grumble about always fucking yourself up. A life full of comedic backfires. It makes you feel so mad you finally stomp off, slamming the door on your way out to your room.

Beneath you, you hear him laugh, most likely double over himself in haughty amusement. You pick up your bed to slam it on the floor. He's cackling now. You can see his hand gripping his sides, how his fingers are holding himself in warmth and love. In amusement and joy. In desperation to commit these moments in his mind like cravings in stone.

You feel like a puppet now. Those ribbons being pushed out of your body. They make you dance across your floor in heavy stomps and screeches of frustration. He sounds like he should be rolling on the floor but you know he would never do that. You hate it. You hate that you love this. You feel flustered to be this embarrassed by how much you feel with a floor separating you. Your face is red. You can feel it. A similar wet red to the mush that makes up your insides.

You want to curl up into a ball.

Curl up and press your hands into your chest. Keeping this feeling he's passed to you safe. Making similar motions to the ones he made with his hands. When they were the ones cradling it. And just sit there, holding it, nice and safe, forever. It's so high now. Almost to the bottom of your throat. Cocooned in the ribbons. You desperately want to pull it down and set it back in its rightful spot of replacing your heart. But the stones are just too heavy. And you're afraid if you tighten your grip any more, it will be crushed.

Things always backfire for you. You dont want to fuck this up.

It's hard to mess this up. Not when you're supposed to be together.
But it happens.
And you would be one of those people.

Tighter it gets.

You never really try to think about what Sakusa is in your heart. Not since its demise. You didn't even try to before that. You love him and he loves you. Simple. You are an omega and he is an alpha. Still simple enough.You were made for him and he was made for you. Complex. But manageable. You could be in a coma forever and leave him all alone. It's fucked.

But to him, you were a room in his heart.
And it drives you insane to not know what it is. Just how his eyes drive you mad. What color were they honestly? What room were you? Were you honestly meant to be together? Were you really soulmates or true mates or a destined pair? However you fucking want to put it.

Was he really okay with this?

With you?

You start to think about it when Sakusa crashes the first car he ever got. A good month after he bought it. It was one of the few times you hear his hands shut up. His eyes follow their dictation for once. His own voice displaying the same emotion as them.

It was dumbfounded.

At seeing you cry. Which he has seen you cry before. But this wasn't your 'sad movie cry', this was your 'I'm really fucking upset okay' cry. Silent. Just angry, hot frustration escaping as liquid. Fists shaking, by your sides, at every emotion that overwhelmed you. Your lip held so tightly in your teeth, you could bite it off with just a little more pressure. Which again most of it was your fault for panicking, hanging up the phone as soon as Kimori called to say Sakusa ran into a sign post. Another moment of you fucking tripping yourself up.

The moment your eyes locked onto his frame, you rushed forward to shake him to death. To kill him for almost killing you in fear. Komori looks shell shocked, and Sakusa does too. You don't even realize you were yelling at him till you just hear a garbled mess of

"Ifuckingalmostdiedwhenyouwernttheonecallingmetotellyouwereokayandgotintoafuckingwreckyouwanttokillmeomihuhjesusfuckingchristkyoomi"

You let go when you hear the word vomit and connect it to your own voice. And pull back to stand there. Heavy breathing, as streaks of hot liquid cool upon your cheeks. You can't even talk. You just sit there, eyes narrow, seething, with the world painted in nothing but wet red. You burn. You burn so hot you see black dots swim in your vision. That must be the ashes of your legs you think. The tears you shed are cooler than the rage building beneath your skin. You let go of your lip in favor of morphing it into a snarl.

How could he do this to you? Then you start to think, how could he stand being with me if moments like this make me feel this terrified? Is this what he feels when I'm in the hospital? How can he stand it? I can't.

You feel like the sun. Been burned alive by these thoughts. Quickly depleting your heat, accelerating yourself to your inevitable death. You think your blunt nails have finally broken skin, with how tight you have your fists.

"There was a bug."

You look at him. Standing there in utter dumbfounded shock. Hands raised slightly, frozen with his fingers slightly curled as if he's debating on trying to touch you, afraid you would crumble if he did. His eyes are wide, almost the size of the moon. The you living inside of them looks like a mess, just as tired as you feel. You blink. He whispers once again in this tiny voice that isn't deadpanned.

"There was a bug"

You curl in on yourself. Bending down to ground yourself with your knees. You hide your face, pressing it down and towards your stomach. "Atsumu- I-, I'm sorry, my phone screen got broke during it and- I'm sorry" Your shoulders shake even harder. All of the ways he talks lines up for once. They all sound dumbfounded. " Tsumu, I'm-, I…, honestly I expected you to make fun of me. Please, stop, I'm sorry."

"You saved almost 10k for a car, only to wreck it because of a bug" you choke out. "Yes" he says stiffly and shocked. You make a weird strained noise. He hasn't moved yet. Still frozen. You can't hold back your laughter anymore. You snicker and snort so hard now that you are crying harder than before. His hands drop and his body sags. His eyes and mouth shut up but you see his fingers move, cussing you out. Yelling "I knew you would laugh about this." Pouting "It's not that funny okay" Screeching "I HATE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW, AHHHHHH. SHUT THE FUCK UP"

"I love you" You giggle up at him. He rolls his eyes and rolls them again with his hands. Now you're the one to squish his cheeks as his hands make disgruntled annoyed noises against your wrists. Pulling him by them gently, you kiss him with an obnoxious grin on your mouth. When you let him go, he rubs his face while silently asking "When was the last time you washed your hands?" You just pull out the bottle of hand sanitizer you now keep and wiggle it for show.

He takes it from you, and leans against you after pocketing it. Your laughter has died out. You can tell he wants to go home. "You didn't fix the insurance mistake where they didn't have you down for 'New buy, total coverage' did you?"

"Fuck…"

"Wait he's not covered for this?"

Komori stays most of the night. Leaving on the last train out of town. Before the other omega goes, he wiggles his eyebrows at his cousin, eyeing you as he looks around the alpha, and jokes about 'making sure your taxes are done right too'. You already see the sass dancing from his fingertips to his shoulders with a roll.

"Actually Bokuto almost got arrested for tax evasion so I already made sure to double check." With a flick he closes the door on Komori's shocked stilled face, stuck in the smug grin he was wearing just a second ago. "WAIT, WHAT!" he yells pounding on the door. Sakusa ignores him and his hands laughingly whisper for you to do the same too. Softly saying, right besides your ear ,"If we stay quiet, he'll go away."

The next day while you both get groceries, you tell the women checking y'all out about it. It's taking a while because you both are used to having things stolen from the shared freezer by Bokuto, that you now buy for him too. You have told everyone that day. His hands pinch your side each time, snarling out 'shut up', tired of actually repeating it so much this morning.

But you just can't help it. Remembering his tiny voice of dumbfounded-ness. It pulls the feeling up your throat and into your mouth. Where it sits wiggling, burning your tongue. It's so hot. It burns into you when it sits still. With each move of its ribbon cocoon, you want to spill out all the words of love you have.

You want to say that

"I love your stupid moles."
"I love your arrogant attitude. And the polite one you have, and how they clash."
"I love your hands, your freaky gross, shouldnt bend that way, 'maybe you're actually an alien' proof of hands."
"I love how they talk to me. And you're the loud one in my eyes."
"I love how you play volleyball. Your play sense is so grounded, I can't help being entranced each time you go to spike. You float."
"I love teasing you, I love being teased by you."
"I love you"
"I love you"
"I love you, I love you, I love you Omi-Omi"

But you don't.

The rocks wrapped up in the ribbons have turned into ravenous cliffs now. A deep ugly pit. With a swamp at the bottom. Grotesque mud sits there, pulling anything that falls down underneath its foul surface. The ribbons trapped beneath those rocks are now fixed permanently down. The swamp holds them with a crushing amount of tension. You can't open your mouth because of it. To let the feeling and words out. All you can grit out is "I love you." To say any more would snap the ribbons. And the feeling would tumble down below. Into the cold black pit of the swamp. Before you could see what it became in that ribboned sarcophagus.

It hurts to even hold his hand.

You can't help but cry now. Under the guise of laughing so hard. It's easier to explain happier tears than it is to explain the sad ones.

You cry even harder because you can't build a room in your heart based around him. You can't even put an image to your love for him. It's not like you have a heart left for it to sit in. You want a way to tell him if he asks. "What am I to you?" You feel so angry that you can't give him something back. While he's built a whole room to you.

Tighter and tighter and tighter your being wound up.

You didn't think waking up to seeing Sakusa waiting beside your hospital bed would seem like a dream. But it was.
Before that it was alway a lingering nightmare.
It still kinda is. But this was nice too.

He was packed into a corner, in a small chair that wasn't made for people with his height. Blanketed in that horrendous lime green jacket you lost a year ago at Osamu's. Legs trying thier best to stay out of the way of the steady stream of nurses and doctors who came in hourly. Ironically enough he was asleep when you woke up, panicking. When your eyes landed on him, your heart raced even faster than before. But your panic subsided. Just knowing he was there. Waiting.

You feel something from the swamp tugging at the feeling after that. Trying to get to it. Pulling and pulling. Desperate to sink it beneath the mud.

He looks so awkwardly beautiful and ugly at the same time. His head was tilted impossibly back, as if he was a rag doll. The rest of him was politely composed, hands rested in his lap, folded, his legs were crossed and tucked out of the way. He had his typical mask on, but the terrible sawing noise coming from him could tell you his mouth was wide open. You didn't think hearing someone snore would make you want to cry. But it did.

From laughter.
From happiness.
From angry.
From distraught.
From love.

When the nurse came in seeing you were awake, he made a motion to wake Sakusa up too, but you waved him away, and croaked "Let him sleep." You spend the next 2 hour just listening to him, watching as, you swear, the dark rings under his eyes lessen. Leisurely sipping on water while you do. When you thought the moment couldn't get any better, with a loud buzz, he scares himself awake. You scare him even more with how loud you laugh at him.

He blinks blankly at you, before he rasps "Good morning?", muffled by his dry throat and mask. "Morin' Omi" He blinks once again blankly at your chipperness, before his eyebrows and hands twitch in annoyance. "I was having a really good dream. But then it became a nightmare." You just just raise your eyebrows as a silent prod to explain. He blinks several times now squinting before sitting up. "I dreamt we won a match against Aran's team, and you did something from me." You snort "Somthin' sexy?" Wiggling your eyebrows. He blinks one last time sleepily, before really sitting up realizing he's awake.

"I'm not answering that." You chuckle, snickering "I wasn't going to say anything, because I thought you stuck your phone in the jacket but-" Said jacket just smacked you in the face. Now you're laughing obnoxiously loud, while he sinks into the chair, hand gripping at the rests. Snarling out silent motions of 'shut up.'

"Shut up."

You feel a beam of a grin pulling at your face. Sakusa pulls his mask down after he stares at you for a minute. And sends back his own small grin. Huffing out a few wispy laughs "So you goin' tell me more about that dream?" He drops his grin immediately. "No" he deadpans, face contorted. You let it go after a few more chuckles at his discomfort when a nurse pokes her head in with a tray of food immediately afterwards. Timing way to close to the earlier conversation.

You start to stuff your face, and he becomes the one to watch silently. His head resting against a hand, while the other lays dormant in his lap. Dormant but not quiet. You see him roll his fingers in pleased patterns, that are echoed in the way his other hand cups his cheek. It fills the room in a silent mantra of "I'm glad you're up."

"In my dream I went to turn you around, but your face was replaced by a piece of onigiri, with your brother's voice. It proceeded to beat me up"

You choke. Taken by surprise. While you hit your chest, he stands up with a smug smirk on his face. You look up at him, tears in your eyes, crying. "Wh-a..t..the..h-ell…?" He grabs the napkin that came with your tray, and drags it across your mouth. After that he gently wraps his fingers under your chin and tilts your head up, planting a quick kiss on your lips. You want to deepen it but as if knowing he pulls back to let you cough out a few more weak itchy breaths from your lungs.

But his hand moves to cup the back of your neck. Thumb whispering little circles of love into it. Sinfully telling you exactly what 'dream' you promised him, through little up and down motions.

" "

A ribbon snaps. There's so much tension now. You think you might throw up. Feeling that little cocoon fighting to stay in your mouth so that it can emerge one day. While whatever lives in the swamp is so hungry to see it die. It physically makes you gag. With that he's gone to get a nurse after urgently promising you he will be back one. You can't even reply. Your body lunges forward as another turn of your stomach is vocalized.

You sit there, gripping on to the thin sheet the hospital has provided you with. Trying to get a grip on anything. Overwhelmed by the struggle going on in you. The struggle to figure out what his eye color was. To fight to know what room he's built as a shrine to you inside his chest. The desperate search to put your love for him into something.

But you don't have an answer for any of these. That thought alone pushes you to empty your stomach on the floor just as Sakusa returns with a doctor in tow. You spend the next 45 minutes in miserable discomfort at being immediately checked out. When the doctor leaves, Sakusa hands you a cup of water to finally wash out the far too old acidic taste. As soon as you take it he's outside, waiting by the door as someone cleans up and the room airs out the slightly sour smell of stomach contents.

When he comes back, he pulls the chair closer to sit by your side. So he can have his hands kiss your's through hastily handed gloves. Whispering to your palms between chaste pecks, "Are you okay? You look miserable. It will be okay, I'm right here." You want to pull away. Feeling guilty. Over something he would tell you that was stupid to feel guilty about. But you can't pull away from those hands because they shake just a little in yours.

"Do you dream when you 'sleep'?"
Your eyes roll up at his question. To look at your thoughts.
"Yeah, kinda."
"About what?"
"Uh-uuuhh. My turn."
He rolls his eyes at your finger waggle, slapping it down lightly, staying silent otherwise.
"What type of room am I?"
He tilts his head, and tilts it the other way after a few minutes of thoughts. He takes his time and consideration into the answer.
"It's hard to describe but I guess a bedroom."
You hum. More questions are spawned from the answer. He taps the back of your hand to remind you silently 'Your turn.'
"Same, it's hard to describe. A lot of it's lucid dreaming, so it used to be me goin' on spy missions using my volleyball skills to save the world, while one uppin' Osamu. But now it's different." Sakusa snorts, as if he's unsurprised but still amused. He raises his eyebrows, a hand lifting up just a little over yours to say 'Well?'
"What? It's my turn to ask again."
"You didn't finish answering though, I'm not wasting a question to get you to elaborate. I should get the second half regardless" He squeezes your hand as you try to pull away from his. You huff.
"You just can't add rules when you feel like it."
"You did that earlier when you implied we have to take turns."

You seethe at having your logic flung back at you. He just smugly smirks at your little temper tantrum. Which riles you all the more. Your game of twenty questions is left unfinished as you proceed to fuss and cuss him out. Legs and arms flailing about. Red faced. He makes it worse by somehow holding onto your hand during the whole thing. A hand that taunts 'You can't beat me that easily.'and brags 'You're just mad I'm right.'

You get revenge when you sneak a hand to pull at his mask, snapping it back against his face. Then it breaks. Hanging by an ear hidden by his curls. He blinks shocked, before he pins you to the bed. Seeking out your sides to pinch at lightly, hands growling 'You brat.' You scream. Pulling him down to hit lightly at his back.

"Is everyth-"

You both pause to see a nurse standing in the doorway. Omi has a knee between your legs, and his face was pulled down into your neck. Your hands are wrapped in his shirt, tugging at it as you were trying to flip him off.

They leave immediately.

Osamu questions the 'out-of-placed' condom in the room when he stops by. But neither of you want to answer that. Mortified.

Sakusa yells at you a week later when you bring it home with you. He pinches you to 'shut up' when you demand that he thank you for doing so later that night.

The tension is so strong now that the last support is starting to fray.

If the four months you and Sakusa didn't talk before you got together were hard, then the last month has been hell.

It starts with an offhanded comment during an interview.
Well.
For you it was something that hit closer to home more than you liked to admit. Especially when it's made after finally announcing your relationship to the world. Well Omi decided to announce it. You were fine actually with it just being it there. You didn't tell the team, they just sorta always knew, and Kimori figured it out after the car incident. Then friends here and there started putting two and two together.

Pretty much it was a well known silent fact.

You were fine with that. Honestly. Really.

Well you were fine with it because you knew people who really shouldn't have an opinion on your relationship would say something. As if they knew what was best for strangers they didn't really know. And you had enough of that when you tried dating after presenting. So you were just fine with what y'all had going on before. Truly. It just helped that you resigned yourself to always having that be your declarations of love. Quiet little oh's of realization, hushed conversations and side-eyed glances.

Okay.
Maybe you weren't fine with it.
And Omi-Omi knew that too.

Still you would've liked a heads up. Well then that would've probably ruined the mood he was going for or you would've talked him out of it. It wasn't Omi's fault that the interviewer decided to have an outspoken opinion. But still you inherently made his life miserable this past month over it. Which he returned in tenfold.

All over someone saying "A lot of people are going to be dissapointed now with this announcement." Which you know they might've meant people would be disappointed over Sakusa's eligibility as a bachelor is now gone. But you know, Omi knows, even the team did a double take when they heard the remark. It was the tone that gave it away.

What they really meant was Sakusa could do much better. Even dating no one is better than dating an AO. Let alone even announcing being soulmates to one. It didn't help that the interview was live and the hand Omi chose to hold and flashed to the cameras was the one you wear your bracelet on. The interviewer's eyes scrunched up with the briefest hint of utter disappointment and disgust at it.

You've heard comments like that before. From strangers, from friends, from siblings and parents. You always shrugged it off. Nonchalant. Flash a grin, and just ignore it. Like how you ignored all the words in middle school said while your back was turned during club activities. You never waste your energy getting angry at those indirect slights. Better to save it for the direct ones.

But for some reason this one gets to you. Maybe because it was the first time you've had someone say that while you dated Sakusa. The looks and stares you could handle. But this.

This somehow shredded every defense you ever had about being an AO.

Now instead of being elated at, what most wouldn't consider a grandiose gesture of love. (But to you it was like Sakusa somehow shouted it to the heavens) It instead fills you with panic. Seeping fear into every weakness your walls have.

Suddenly desperation fills your mouth.
The desperate need to justify yourself.
Justify Sakusa's choice.
Justify your bond.

To somehow form your love for him into something clear, instead of an indescribable ball of ribbon.

He built a fucking room to you in his heart. What do you have to show?

Nothing.

For the first time you find a fear bigger than your fear of truly being alone, of being knocked down so hard you can't get up, of never waking up.

And it's them being right.

Instead of four month of silence, you both created a month of nonstop noise. Your typical way of fighting is different for some reason. Everything about this is different.

The only thing that is constant is how things backfire for you.

This time the panic pushes you to consider things that should never be seen as a solution. But how do you fix an intangible fear like this. When you've never let it be one till now.

It's the first time you ever heard Omi yell. The first time he's slammed a door in your face. The first time he refused to even acknowledge you after you begged him to, crying. He's never ignored you like this. He never been this mean, with every sentence being a backhanded insult.

And you never threw things before in anger at walls. Said remarks with the intent to wound around friends. Kicked him out of your room before. You can be an asshole, but this was pushing boundaries you would've never dared crossed. You're sure he's feeling the same.

But fear pushed you to justify yourself somehow. So you keep pushing and pushing your misguided solution of having kids in his face. You keep pushing adoption agencies and surrogates. You honestly don't even want one but this is what panic makes you latch onto. Sakusa sure as hell doesn't want a child either.

But nothing stops you. With your fighting being so bad that you left the building just a day ago to stay with 'Samu. That turned out to be a terrible idea. Well not terrible, just that, you still weren't ready to hear your brother's opinion on the matter. Which of course as soon as you walked in the door he had the issue figured out.

Nothing stops it till he walks in with a black eye and swollen lip.

All the fighting doesn't stop your heart from skipping a beat when you see him like that. But you hesitate to run over and check him over. Fearing he might pull away if you did, that even injuries wouldn't stop your fighting. You couldn't handle that rejection right now. So you slam a bag of ice and rag down on the table, sitting across from him. Neither one of you look at each other, choosing to look over shoulders and keeping stares glued to walls.

"Who did you piss off"

"Your brother."
"Jesus fuc- I told him to stay out of it"

Apparently 'Samu decided to have a chat with Sakusa too. God this is turning into such a shit show. You can't even look at him. You just hold your head in your hands. Angry.

"Atsumu, what is going on?"

"..."

"What is going on between us right now? You aren't telling something"

"... What did 'Samu say to you?"

"..."

"What. Did. He. Say."

"Nothing honestly. Said hello, punched me and then fed me. Chatted about how the season was going."

You just snort in disbelief.

"Atsumu, what are you not telling me."

You tap your hand on the counter a few times in thought. You feel his eyes on you.

"You don't want a kid."

You slam your hand on the counter at that, moving your head down to tug briefly at your hair.

"You don't know that"

You finally look at him when snapping back. He just gives you a look and rolls his eyes. He scoffs at the end of the roll and is the one to put his head in his hand now.

"I have always waited for you. I waited 4 month for you to forgive me. I would wait for you to wake up each and every time. But this. I can't. I can't do this anymore and wait for you to tell me what this is really about."

Something about his tone makes you feel the stress and weight of this month finally. Your shoulders sag and you tap a foot, unsure.

You break.

"I-...It's no-"
You feel helpless. You want to open your mouth and tell him everything. About your fears and how you know its dumb but not dumb. About the panic at suddenly being bothered by the looks and whispered opinions. About how you want to have an image to pin next to your love of him. But you can't.

You can't speak.

You can only look down at your hands. You clench them and unclench them while he gives you just a few more minutes of his time.

"Its-"
Your voice cracks.

You feel sick. You're afraid if you talk, the feeling Sakusa gave you would spill out. Then he could see what mess it has become. Cocooned in grey ribbons that are fraying from constantly being tugged down. Your stomach turns as the thing in the swamp is clawing your vocal cords. Just one sound and it will finally have its feast.

You swallow. Hiding your face away as your vision swims.

"Its dumb"
"If it's as dum-"
"It's even dumber because I know it's not dumb, but I still feel like it is Omi."

You bury your face deeper into your hands as your head feels hot. You feel like you're running a fever out of nowhere. There's a slimy feeling on your cheeks.

"It makes me angry how much I let this bug me. It bugs me how angry I feel from this."

You feel like you're going to throw up or just start bawling if you speak anymore.

You feel something trying to pry a hand from your eyes, and you pull back complaining
"My hands are covered in snot, don't."

"I want to hold hand, snot covered or not"

"Don't"

"LET ME PUSH MYSELF IF I WANT TO"

He huffs while you stare.

"Stop babying me and just let me...Just let me push myself to reach out to you"

You let him grip your now wet hand as you stare, blurry at the growing puddle on the counter table beneath you.

"Atsumu, please tell me what this is really about. No one starts mentioning kids out of nowhere and pushes it unless they are panicking about something. Plus I don't want kids besides the whole, you know," he gestures while still holding your hand. "Because I'm afraid of your body not being able to handle it. Surrogate or adoption, or whatever the means, I'm afraid."

That stings. But he has every right to feel that way. You still can't fully look at him.

"I'm afraid right now, Atsumu"

You bite your lip.

"I let it get to me finally."

He pulls your hand closer and the first time in a month you feel his hands talk to you. Rubbing little words of comfort into the skin on the back of your hand. Your breath hitches as that simple gesture breaks you down.

"Being an AO, and all that stuff. It finally got to me and I-I," You inhale as if your life depends on it. "I don't know, panicked. I know its not stupid, and every fucking TV show I ever watched as a kid told me the same fucking thing," You slam your free hand on the tabletop at that, while giving him a red eyed look. "but it feels like such a stupid thing to be bothered by when I just always let it go before."

You look away to stare at the wall before continuing "But it hurts. It hurts because they were saying that about this. About us. It's different because it's about me and you." Your voice gives way towards the ends, and you can't hide the desperate hitch in your breath for air as you struggle not completely breakdown into a crying fit. You furiously wipe now at your eyes as he still continues to hold your hand.

"Just something about this time I couldn't let go. So if I couldn't let it go, the only other thing I could work out is if I could get them to shut up. Make them eat their words"

"And you landed on constantly wanting to talk to me about adopting after we get married as your way of doing that. Why couldn't you, I don't know, annoy me about getting a hamster or a fish" he sighs, wetly chuckling, kissing your hand.

You look up and frown. The corners of your mouth pulling down so far you can feel the muscles in your forehead straining.
"Its-... not that funny. I don't know...." You put you head into your free hand, cradling it while you think. "I don't know Omi" you sigh finally, turning in your hand to push your bangs up.

"I just wanted to prove myself"

"I know"

You both sit in silence before you quietly rasp out.

"It doesn't feel like we can fix this"

" "

He tugs you to him at that, squishing your cheeks, and pulling your face towards his. "I don't waste my time Atsumu. The only way this relationship is ending is if we are happily married, happily friends or happily hating each other. Or just happy" He deadpans. "I think the one before last is called being rivals" you spit out as he pulls your hidden baby fat out more. "It's called being frien-enemies." He snorts, before kissing you.

"Aren't we already that but like lovers" you point out after pulling away for air. He raises a hand to say see.

You roll your eyes, leaving your head tilted up in exasperation "That's not a point" before leaning down to kiss him again. Something he is happy to deepen.

After a lengthy makeout, you both have an even longer discussion while laying down together in bed. About everything. Well almost everything.That discussion ends up taking a whole week to work through.

With that a month of noise turns into a week of soft words and long thoughtful moments after each one. Neither one of you were 'in the right' You both sunk to some pretty low places. But you both work it out somehow like y'all usually do with each fight. The fallout just takes a little longer to sift through then usual. The process starts slow but before long you find yourself running towards the next hurdle, hand in his.

You don't know how to explain everything that bothers you.

So you don't.

There's a snap within you. And finally, it all comes crashing down.

Your life with Omi passes by quickly the more you find yourself struggling to put form to your love for him. There's chunks of time missing that you build around. But with each attempt it comes out more and more distorted. You have to cover the attempts with ribbons that never seem to give an indication of being grey, blue or green. Building a bigger and bigger ball of protection around the feeling that has been once cradled by him.

The thing in the swamp of your stomach gets just as perverse as the cocoon with each attempt. It grows and grows. Pulls and tugging against you. It gurgles and screeches it's frustrations up at you. To get you to swallow the feeling down. So it can finally feast. Hungry. Desperate to see what it is before it's truly ready. It claws and claws at you.

When you peer over the edge of the cliffs, to see what so desperately wanted to take this precious feeling, you only can see another you staring up from a reflection on the water's surface.

You have gotten into the habit of twisting your new ring when thinking about it.

It's been almost 3 months since you moved into your new apartment. It was a nice cozy place, that was minimalist enough to angle itself into Sakusa's style too. On your jogs to the gym there's a bakery and convenience store you stop at frequently. The owners of both are new neighbors. They wave, sitting together in the morning, as y'all pass, and soon became fledgling volleyball fans.

Maybe because they are too old to care but they never seem to stare when you decide to pass by on your way home, hand in hand.

Though you had to pass by them today alone.

You still wave as you walk to the doctor's.

The whole train ride you play with your ring.

The whole wait you twist and twist and twist it.

During the exam you can't keep your finger off of it.

When you hear the results you turn it over and over and over.

When you get home you tap it against your new table.

Finally you stop. You get up and walk to the laundry. And lay on the ground. Slipping the folded stack of papers underneath your dryer.

And you lay there staring at it past your ringed finger.

You lay there a long time pressing your heated head into the floor. Desperation floods you. The need to form makes you clench your fists as your mind keeps drawing up blanks.

You want the answer to so many things. You get so close but you can't quite get a grip on them.

What color is his eyes?
What does the bedroom of his heart look like?
Why can't you just form your love for him in something more than intangible?

Why?

You lay there a long time, well after all the heat in your body has left.

And cry.

For the first time in a long time.

You get up an hour before Omi gets home. Wash your face and stiffly get dinner started.

He looks rough when he left and he looks even worse when he gets back. He flops into your back, nose against the nape of your neck, slumped.

Your body starts to heat up. From something else besides the shared body heat.

"Your freezing."

You just hum. Not really able to find the energy to answer back.

"What did the doctor say?"

You try not to hesitate, but you do. You feel him stiffen behind you when you do.

"Nothing really, just a stomach bug."

He doesn't say anything about that, just pulls away humming. You've been dreading this. Ever since you had inkling of something being off.

But you can't talk to him.

He would be terrified.

You're terrified.

...You are terrified.

It hits you.

How terrified you are of this moment.

He lets the dishes slam and clash together. Still humming as if he isn't really mad at you for not telling him the truth. Scrubbing furiously at a dent now in the table. He exhales with a hot puff. Frustrated.

You make your way over to where he's standing, pulling out a chair and sitting. Bouncing your leg as you watch him scrub at that one spot on the table. Relentless. As it doesn't bend to the whims of his world.

"What's the bedroom like?"

"What?!" He snaps, both his voice and the towel he's using.

"The bedroom, the one you said that you think about when you think of me."

His hands wring and stretch the towel he has in his hands, just as your's twist and pull the ring on your finger.

"I'm not in the mood for this 'Tsumu." He growls pulling his chair out with a loud thud. His mood changes when he finally spares you a look. One that keeps him locked onto your face.

You give him a teary-eyed smile before wetly explaining "I had a bad day too." You swallow after that as his eyes start to search yours. He frowns, before going on.

"It's- uh a, it's a bedroom that's, well it's…" he pauses, gesturing for a moment while you just look down and give a blurry smile to your hands, before looking up. He stumbles a bit more, as his frown deepens.

"It's a bedroom, and sometimes, uh, it's sunny." He struggles out, eyes wildly searching yours as his hands retreat to his lap. He looks heartbroken and lost. Just as much as the you that lives in his eyes does.

He opens his mouth but closes it as your hands reach up, elbows pressing into the hard surface of the table. You cover your eyes with them and keep on smiling down into the empty plate he has sat out for dinner. He struggles a bit more before letting his hands fall down with a defeated slap.

A silence falls over you two.

Neither one of you seems willing to break it. You can't bring yourself to look at him.

"Your a bedroom, that's sometimes as golden as a sunny afternoon. Where every corner of it is lit up. And other times its bedroom that I wake up in at the earliest hours of morning, when the sky is just turning blue. And the world is still asleep."

You give a snort as he finishes, rubbing your irritated eye harder into your palms.

"Thanks"

"Atsumu-" he starts, cutting off with a little choked close as he couldn't find the words to say next. Your shoulders shake just a little harder as you dread what his next words will be.

"Atsumu what-"
You don't want to tell him what the doctor said even though you know he would be able to handle it. But you don't want to scare him. You feel like you do that enough already.
"-do you think about when you think of me?"

What.

You look up, dumbfounded, as Omi doesn't ask what you expected him to.

You blink as you process a question you dread even worse than the previous one.

"What?" You exhale, eyes searching his. Back and forth as you look across his face to see if maybe you just imagined it. But Sakusa just lets his face fall a bit as you continue to stare. You laugh a little. The end of it turning more into a noise then a laugh.

"You know I've dreaded this question." You rumble out. Chest and shoulders twitching as puffs of air leave your lungs. Your chuckling turns to sobs.

"I don't know Omi."

You fold yourself down into your arms, letting your head rest against your forearms as your hands pull at your hair. Repeating "I don't know, I don't know, I have nothing." You shake with each desperate hitch. Trying to keep everything inside you and to keep the feeling you can't describe safe.

But it's like everything has snapped. And you've lost it in your confession. You don't know if it's being ripped apart now or if it has somehow tumbled out of your mouth. That thought makes you cry even harder. The unknown meeting intangible.

"I don't know."

You dig your fingernails into your scalp and pull. As if you could puppet yourself back to normalcy. But the burn of it just makes you feel all the more sick. You want to say something but you can't. You can't seem to do anything it feels like.

"I have nothing." You sob.

"It's okay." He whispers, reaching out. His hand brushing your arm. Fingers wrapping around your wrist to gently pry it away from your aching head.

But you burn too hot to let that go. You pull all the more into yourself, yelling "IT'S NOT OKAY"

He doesnt pull away. His hand simply rests where it is wrapped around yours. Quiet.

"You built a bedroom out of your love for me and I have nothing." You vomit out in a weak voice. "Nothing. All I have to give you is just that I love you!" You snarl into your arms with a harsh sniff. "How is that fair?" You weep into the wood surface underneath you. You clench your hands and dig your blunt nails into whatever.

"I can't take this love and form anything. I can't give you anything. I can't return what you built for me. No matter how hard I try."You choke out between deep gasps.

He doesn't say anything for a moment. The only noise is the strain sounds of you trying to rein in your emotions. He threads his fingers into your hair, his thumb rubbing circles into the nape of your neck.

"I love you"

You rub your eyes harder, as the motions become more and more slippery. You sniff, and dig your nails into the skin around your eyes just a little. You swallow as you finally find that precious little feeling. It's swinging, attached to the back of your throat by a thread. The idea of it being there makes you gag.

The you who lives in the bottom of your stomach is grabbing at it impatiently. Desperate to give Sakusa something back. Even at the cost of the most precious thing he has given you. Your insides feel like a wet mess of red.

"-" You try to get something out. But you can't. Only a harsh clack as you snap your teeth shut and grimace.

"I don't care if you can't add anything past 'I love you.' Just that you do."

You hit a fist against the table. Omi was simple when it came to your relationship. Content with your best tries. But you weren't.

"I do!"

Silence.

"I do." You say a little softer. Finally laying still under his hand on top of your head.

"Then...tell me what you do have."
"I told you I have nothing!"
"No, if you have tried, you have something. No one gets nothing when they try."
"..."

It feels like forever for you to move, and come back to him.

"A fucked up cocoon"
"Reeally?"

You lift up and give him a look past your arms, ringed in red.

He raises his hands, silently deadpanning 'okay, okay'
"Like parasite fucked up?"
"What?! No!!! Where did you even come up with that?!"
"You wished you ate Osamu in the womb. You steal clothes and lie when asked about them. You never share any of your sweets."
"Are you really comparing me to a parasite right now?"
"No……………………..just stating some facts."

You roll your eyes. His hand plays with your bangs.

"A feeling in a cocoon." You continue with a huff. He somehow hums dryly at that. You sigh.
You pull your arms away. Laying a cheek on the bare table. Warmth lingers where your arms were. It does nothing for your salt worn cheek.

"I don't know what's in it. But I keep wrapping and wrapping it up." His hand now slips behind your ear, as his thumb swipes across the one cheek still exposed to him. "That's it."

He doesn't hum or say anything after that. He just keeps rubbing at the red that's sitting just underneath your eyes. You don't dare to look at him.

You both sit there for a long time.
In the quiet

"I like it."

You scrunch up your face and finally look at Sakusa after he speaks. You feel like a child.. Keeping your head glued to the table surface. His hand doesn't leave you. He just huffs out that dry airy laugh of his at your response.

"I mean it's gross, and could be better."

You roll your eyes.

"But I like it. A love built out of every attempt."

You look away from him to stare at the wall. Frowning. "It's ugly." He just sighs. Mouth open, ready to respond with something snappy but you cut him off. "And yes, I am aware that my brother has said the same about me." He pinches your cheek at that.

"Well look at it this way, it's just another thing I have to see through to the end right."

"Huh?" You gawk looking at him now lifting your head from the table. He just smirks down at you. The room feels a hundred degrees hotter around your cheeks. As if you're being proposed to all over again.

You watch as he stands up to finish the dinner you left halfway done. Mumbling under his breath affectionately cold remarks. You lay your head back on the table to watch. Feeling tired.

The night feels especially cool. And everything Omi does seems to be in full clarity. You watch his hands in slow motion as they chatter words filled with unspoken fondness. His eyes seem to reach into the unknown, as you are reflected in them. Surrounded by a gray that is neither blue or green.

You watch as he sleeps. How far away he seems.

You stare at the ceiling waiting. Thinking of the little feeling growing in you. Your eyes droop as you imagine the little cocoon taking the shape of something.

Would it be something beautiful or ugly?

You close your eyes just as something emerges from it.

But you fall into your dreams just as it hatches.