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Tendrils of golden light illuminated the meadow in patches, shadows drifting as clouds occasionally pass overhead in an otherwise clear blue sky. Long grasses swished, yielding to the soft blows of the winds as tree branches gently rustled, the buds thick and ready to blossom. Nature lived, her heart pulsing under the succulent bushes of dandelions which sprouted from the verdures of green: their fragrances drifting towards him. A warm breeze caressed his face and kissed warmth into the pale of his skin. The sweeping vista of wonderland-green fields was a salve for his soul, a spirit that refused to heal.
When eyelids opened to reveal black irises, dark and weary, they flickered to the side, settling on another figure that had appeared. He was almost translucent in the dazzling rays of sunshine, blonde locks kissed gold and hazel eyes glimmering like pools of honey. Sakusa mentally berated himself for how cheesy that similarity sounded but wondered for how long he had failed to take notice of them.
‘Been a while since we sat here, Omi-kun.’
Omi-kun. His voice tore through his chest like a hot, scorching sharp-edge knife, cutting into his heartstrings and sending a searing pain through. Sakusa could only stare and be enamored with the blond tresses that framed his face, the golden traces that edged his otherwise hazel eyes.
‘Omi?’
Drawn from his thoughts at the sound of his name, Sakusa was forced back to reality. ‘Yeah?’
‘You came for me, why’re you bein’ so quiet?’
‘I am just thinking.’
‘Hmm.’
They continued to sit in silence and while Atsumu opted to pick some weeds around the stone he sat upon, Sakusa’s attention veered into the distance, though ever so often he would look at the former from peripheral vision.
‘Mom was surprised when she saw you, huh? After all, ya haven’t visited her since last year.’ Atsumu suddenly decided to break the silence, fingers still occupied with the grass and dandelions that had grown through the cracks.
‘I had no reason to.’
‘Liar, had every reason.’
‘You know why I didn’t, Atsumu.’ He nearly hisses from between clenched teeth, eyebrows gathering into a deep frown.
‘I know.’ He smiled; chin settled in the palm of his hand. ‘‘sokay, Omi, am just glad yer here now.’
Just glad he is here now.
A downturn of his mouth as his face broke into a pained expression, losing the thread of the conversation once again as a knot formed in his abdomen. He refused to relive the past events, for the horrid memories to be recalled to the front of his mind so instead Sakusa detached his penetrating gaze from him to fixate it elsewhere instead, further proving the point that he wished to be not confronted with what had transpired a year ago. Atsumu, however, was anything but lenient and decided to pry further.
‘So ya quit the team huh.’
‘You knew that already.’ He retorted, sharper and far blunter than he intended. ‘Besides… it’s not the same without you there.’
Atsumu huffed, almost rolling his eyes. ‘Come now, Omi, ‘snot like I would be settin’ f’rya a lifetime.’
‘Would it have hurt to set for me just a little longer?’
At that, Atsumu shut up.
They had said that time dulls all pain, that those passing moments restore a broken heart and nurse it back to health. Though, Sakusa was never one to bother with mess. When something broke and shattered into countless fragments, he did what he did best: clean up the clutter of shards and discard it into the bin. An everlasting void had remained in his chest in the wake of Atsumu’s leaving, and even when the torment and stinging had become something he had grown accustomed to, Sakusa preferred to not seek out happiness elsewhere. There was no aim in seeking merriment if it was not in the company of Atsumu, if it was in the absence of his giddy laughter and giggles that he had the fortune of hearing, if his lover was not there to experience those elated moments with.
There was no purpose.
Atsumu was gone from the heap of dirt he previously sat upon and Kiyoomi reluctantly trailed his eyes to the tall rectangle stone that was dug into the earth, the inscriptions tearing open wounds that previously were partially closed: the blood now seeping through into a puddle that would soon engulf and suffocate him with the woe he had suppressed for weeks’ time.
MIYA ATSUMU
5 OCTOBER 1995 - 20 MARCH 2019
‘You say you have been seeing your deceased boyfriend as of late…’
‘Yes.’
‘How often does he appear?’
‘In the beginning I would only hear his voice but gradually he appeared before me… It used to be occasional but now he hangs out more often.’
‘Does he talk?’
Does he ever shut up? Was what Sakusa had wanted to retaliate with but a snort from the corner of the room had him narrow his eyes, neck craning back to shoot Atsumu, or at least the apparition, a warning glare.
‘Sakusa?’
‘Sorry… yes… he— it talks.’
‘Is he here right now, Sakusa? Can you see him?’
He sucked in his bottom lip; eyes cast downward to the floor before giving a nod.
The therapist scribbled something onto the paper.
‘It is not unusual for those to see, hear or simply sense the presence of a deceased loved one, it is one of the many things that come with grief. Do you talk back, Sakusa?’
‘I don’t.’
‘Why is that?’
‘He… He is not real, it’s all in my head. I feel like that if I talk back… that… that—’
‘That you will not be able to move on, that you will remain attached forever?’
He nodded his head, eyes glued to the carpeted floor. With scrutinizing eye, he took notice of the muted stains, the dirt suddenly far more comforting to look at than anyone else in the room.
‘You told me you and your late boyfriend lived together, this is one of the causes why he makes a regular appearance. Especially for someone in your situation, your brain desperately clings onto the routines, the regularities that provide you with the comfort you need. Your boyfriend had a consistent and valued presence in your life, your brain, and in this case your heart as well, decide to conjure him before your eyes on the daily now. But indeed, it makes me glad to hear you know he is not there in the physical. Each day is a blank slate, Sakusa, but the brain still yearns for yesterday. We do not know what the future may bring, but we as humans can cling onto the comforts of the past.’
Sakusa did not reply, nails digging into his nail beds, cuticles already sore and red.
‘Perhaps you should try and talk to him.’
At that, his eyes widened, head lifting to meet his therapist’s gaze.
‘Studies prove that those who interact with the hallucinations of their deceased loved ones actually cope better with their grief. So, why do you not give it a try? Perhaps it will aid you.’
‘Right… Right now?’
‘If you want, I will not force you. It’s more food for thought. ’
From the corners of his eyes, he saw Atsumu appear beside him, leaning against the desk as his fingers nimbly played with the pen holder. Sakusa knew that, even if Atsumu picked up a pen, that in reality the very thing would still remain in place. Their eyes met and his breath hitched in the back of his throat, mouth dry and the words struggling to come undone.
‘H-Hey.’
At that, Atsumu’s brows rose in surprise, lips just slightly agape before they curled into an amiable smile, not anything like the lopsided lazy grins he would torment him with when he was still...
‘Hey there, Omi-kun.’
At the sound of his voice, Kiyoomi’s eyes fluttered close and he shifted his attention back to the dark marks underneath his shoes, the tremble of his knees aligning the tumultuous thudding of his heart. When he dared open his eyes again to peek through, the illusion had receded from view, the pen still in its place. How long had it been since he had heard him? It was nothing like the myriad of voice memos and mails he repeated at night, or the interviews and videos he kept on replay, imagining he was still there and talking to him as Sakusa tussled with the duvet, frustrated because of his inability to sleep in the absence of his late lover. Though, this time he had not heard a repetition of the phrases he had memorized in his mind due to the constant listening. This time, he had heard Atsumu— no— something that posed to be him speak, and Sakusa was torn between a sense of wicked relief as well as newfangled sorrow.
‘You did well, Sakusa. I advise you to continue this.’
And he did.
As the days progressed, he would engage in idle chit chatter or exchange remarks between them. When he was looking for his keys, Atsumu’s voice would resound from the distance, suggesting he look on the kitchen counter. When he was strolling through the supermarket, a voice would speak again, urging him to put a package of his favorite puddings into the cart. There was a shelf in his fridge where almost a dozen of those treats was buried in the corner. When days were particularly bad, Sakusa would open one and put it in on the coffee table, turn on the tv to one of the few shows Atsumu would watch and pretend his lover was lazing in the living room while he continued to scrub the bathroom clean an umpteenth time. The tenacious Sakusa Kiyoomi gradually became inattentive to his surroundings, almost scatterbrained while he forgot anything but Atsumu Miya. Though, did anything else matter more than he did?
Nonetheless, the therapist had proved her point to be true. Slowly but surely, his schedule morphed into something more coherent and Atsumu’s ‘visits’ occurred less often. One particular afternoon he came to realize that he had not felt the sharp twinge in his chest ever since having woken up and at long last Kiyoomi was under the impression that he progressed smoothly, that he had, after a long time, adjusted to the pain and found a space in his brain to burrow the ache as he moved on with his life.
Though, somewhere in the beginning of March, all that progress came crumbling down as sleeping became a fleeting chore. He would often lay awake as sleep eluded him, weary eyes resting on the ceiling as he keenly listened to the noises outside his window, finding comfort in the occasional tire screeches and vehicle that drove past. He would turn to his side and in trained response reach over to the bed’s right side, only for his arm to rest on a cold bedside, fingers curling into the duvet as a lump formed in his throat. Night has become futile tussles of conflicting thoughts as well as unsatiable pining.
It was nights such as those where he wished for the figment of his imaginations to materialize, for a warmth to appear under the palm of his hand and two strong arms to pull him into a familiar hold. To rest his head upon the chest and count the heartbeats which eventually lulled him to sleep like they had in the past. Though, none of that would come to be. Instead, he was left alone with the stacked pillows underneath his head and the earbuds plugged in his ears, listening to the beat of someone else’s heart: one which in most probability thudded, one that was not lifeless like Atsumu’s, nor torn to shreds like his own.
It was the fifteenth of March when Atsumu had appeared him again, in the middle of his hallway when Kiyoomi had returned from a grocery haul. He had dropped the bags from his grips, a hand which came to lean against the side of his face and mind urged him into a state of denial.
‘No… no, no, no, no… Go away… Please… Leave me be… I can’t… I can’t look at you.’
Atsumu was sitting on the floor, chin in the palm of his hands.
‘Relax, Omi-kun, ‘mjust here ta tell ya somethin’. It’s almost my anniversary… I would wanna see ya…’
‘No.’
He frowned, indignantly almost. ‘ It wouldn’t hurt ya… ‘sides, I think my mom would appreciate it too. ’
‘Will… Will you leave if I say yes?’
‘Mmhm.’
And that’s how it came to be: how Sakusa had left his house a few days later, on the twentieth of March, just a little after dawn and had entered his car for a journey towards Hyogo. He had avoided Atsumu’s house entirely, having preferred to walk straight to the open green lands towards the small hill his body was buried. His mom, however, had seen him while tending the crops. She had smiled at him, one that harbored the pain she also had long grown accustomed to and muttered something along the lines of welcome and it’s good to see you again before she turned around. There was a gathering of cars before their house and Sakusa had caught a glimpse of Osamu who was smoking outside the house, countless butts scattered and littered in front of his feet as he absentmindedly stared at the nearly deflated volleyball that rested between overgrown grasses, in most probability reminiscing about the days he played with his brother and pondering if he had made the right decision to quit volleyball. If, if and ifs, everyone wondering what small adjustment in their daily routine they could have done to prevent the horrendous events of that day.
‘Atsumu, where are you? We are about to surprise Omi-san!’ Hinata had hissed into his phone while hiding in a bathroom stall.
‘I’m almost there! I just picked up the birthday cake and ‘mgoin’ ta get a cab afterwards.’
‘A cab? Weren’t you coming with Osamu-san?’
‘Nah, Samu’s gotta close the shop late, told me catch a ride elsewhere.’
‘Huh, what about Bokuto-san?’
‘Bokkun’s with Akaashi, I’ll be fine, Shoyo, just keep ‘im distracted and I’ll be there before ya guys notice! Don’t have too much fun without me!’
Atsumu never arrived.
After the initial surprise, which was met by one of Sakusa’s notorious unimpressed looks, they had gathered in the restaurant and taken place alongside the table. Lighthearted chit chatter and chuckles eventually filled the room, cutlery clinking the gurgles of glasses being filled. Doors would occasionally open and close for servers to maneuver through. Sakusa eventually stopped engaging in the conversations, leaning further into his chair and staring through the fogged windows at the road, wondering where the one person was he had looked forward to seeing. His day had been rather hectic and at the moment Kiyoomi could not care less for a birthday party, one that was held in a public space nonetheless, food served on dishware that in all likelihood had not been scrubbed as clean as he had preferred. When Osamu, however, had long joined them and Hinata had to tell the server a third time that they were waiting on someone else, was when Sakusa had noticed something was amiss.
‘Where is Atsumu? Why is he late?’
Hinata whose gaze was flitting around the room, yet not settling on anything but the entrance door finally rested on Sakusa, the very one had been avoiding for the entirety of the evening. He was fidgeting, eyebrows drawing together before a jerky hand ran through his hair, tousling it further.
‘I… I don’t know Omi-san… He said he would pick up the cake and come…’
Osamu had frowned, drinking his third glass of water empty and ignoring the hunger that slowly came to be insufferable. ‘It’s raining outside, is he coming on foot?’
Almost as if on cue, the silence was ruptured by the splintering detonation of thunder and a concussed silence followed. Bokuto whistled at the incandescent lightning that had streaked the sky and flashed from behind the dark, obscuring clouds that had gathered and coughed out great gouts of water. The droplets tapped against the glass, incessant rain coming down in a downpour from floodgates. The thrumming white noise that usually soothed his nerves, was now a reason for the unsettled weight that pushed on his chest.
‘Atsumu would never be late to my birthday.’ Sakusa spoke to himself as he watched the deluge of rain.
‘Excuse me, are you ready to order?’ The waitress asked for the fourth time that night.
‘Ah, I am so sorry but could—’
‘We are leaving.’
Everyone looked up, including Bokuto whose bottom was jutted out into a pout. ‘Come on, Kiyoomi, we both know th—’
Flashes of red crossed past the window, a siren reverberating through the stillness that hung, and a tremor was sent through Sakusa’s body, eyes nearly bulging out as an incredulous stare followed the van that hastily passed the restaurant.
‘Shoyo, move.’
‘Omi-san—’
‘I SAID MOVE!’
Hinata as well as the rest were startled, chairs squeaking and people standing up to make way for Sakusa who nearly bolted out, a pulsing in his eardrums as he hurriedly scrambled to his feet and exited the restaurant with Osamu in tow.
He followed the raging sirens, a cacophony of white noise as well doom harbingers resounding in his head. The rain, the distant sirens, the screeching of tires, his erratic breathing and the sounds of his drenched clothes hanging onto him, Osamu’s frantic yelling at Sakusa to slow down and compose himself, all faded into mere background muffle as Sakusa was adamant on reaching the sole destination he had set out before him.
There was a mass of people who had gathered, all lined up behind a red stripe and a few officers who kept everything at bay. Sakusa, who suddenly did not give a flying fuck anymore about human contact, who discarded his strong aversion towards crowds, squeezed himself through.
‘Move, MOVE. Get out the way, Get. Out. The—’
‘–reporting live I now stand here close to the accident that took place just about ten minutes ago. With the roads slippery, two vehicles have supposedly crashed into one another.’
‘Sir! Please, stay back.’
‘Atsumu!’ He cried out for his name, frantically trying to peel the officer’s hands from his body. ‘That’s my boyfriend, my boyfriend is there. Let go, let go of me!’
Pushing the officer off him, he ran towards the mess of collided cars, approaching the paramedics that were hunched over the ground.
He wished he had never seen it, the imagine now forever retained onto his retina. His lover sprawled on the stone ground, blonde rivulets damp and sticking to a pale forehead.
Wish he had never heard it, the words now forever haunting him for the days to come.
‘Time of death…’
He felt the ground dragged from underneath his feet, windpipe shutting as he staggered. Eyes perched open as he witnessed the very event that did his world collapse.
No.
No no no no.
Atsumu-
You can’t-
The paramedics pulled the cloth over his face, blonde hairs still poking out from underneath.
‘A quarter to eight.’
That is when his jaws parted and he howled with such ferocity as if it might bring Atsumu back, sorrow as well as grief enrapturing him with each expelled breath, intakes of air interrupted by the choked sobs, the graveled road digging deep into his palm. His cries were desolate, tears mingled with the rain and the gathering of people covering their mouths at the sight of someone who had been robbed of his lover. Osamu watched from the sidelines, lips agape in disbelief as he too witnessed the death of his other half.
He had not noticed his hands were trembling when he struggled to take the cap off a bottle of water he had brought with him, sucking in his bottom lip in aggravation.
‘Damn it.’
Eyes narrowed, a hot wetness gathering in the corners of his eyes. The grip around the bottled tightened and the plastic squeaked when squeezed. He felt the warmth streak his face, the inside of his cheek stinging as he bit down onto it.
‘Damn it, Atsumu… Why? Why out of all people, you?’
There was no response. No words or apparition that provided him with the comfort and reassurance he needed. Instead, there was the soft howling of a wind, and Kiyoomi pretended it was Atsumu who was reaching out to him from the other side. Or at least, he convinced himself it was him.
‘You were so young… There was… There was still so much I wanted to with you. So much I wanted to see with you. Did you not want to go abroad? Did you not say you would disinfect the interior of an entire plane if that meant going to Greece together? I don’t even know why you wanted to go there but now I regret we never did. The Olympics… fuck… we were supposed to play at the Olympics together, wasn’t that your dream, Atsumu? Hey… answer me damnit. Answer me!’
The yell tore from his throat, rasp and crude. His fingers trembled, teeth gritting, and chiseled jaw clenched. It was at that moment, Sakusa needed him most, it was at that moment, when spring blew life anew into the plants and flora that Sakusa wondered why it was not his boyfriend which returned just as the cycle of seasons. Sakusa wondered why it was Atsumu who had to be stolen from him while the world was ridden with countless other vermin that deserved to die?
At long last, the cap loosened, and he took it off. Tipping the bottle and allowing its contents to pour out onto the headstone. The water gathered into a puddle on the stone surface before it flowed into various directions, dripping down the sides of the grave and seeping into the earth.
The spring breeze carried promises of life, for the pastures to grow and bountiful crops to be harvested. It moved the strands of hair, tousling his buoyant curls and carrying one of the many tears away. The sun warmed his skin, though his insides felt frigid.
He would no longer return.
His fingers grazed the stone, the inscriptions cold under them before he rested his forehead against it. What did they speak of again? That springtime comes as music to one’s spirits, a song that cradled the harsh winters back into its caves? For him it was nothing but discord, a dissonance of wretchedness and grief, a spiteful tune that would be stuck in the back of his mind for perhaps another week, month or year to come.
This was it.
This was the end of their story.
And it was a pitiful strain of sounds.
‘I hope you rest easy… ’ He whispered, no longer having any tears to spare, ‘I miss you… Atsumu… I love you…’ He idly swirled a finger in the small puddle, drawing patterns on the wet stone. ‘I always will… but… I can’t continue like this. I have come to say goodbye. You understand that, right? I… I have never been good with words… but… I really wish I had said I love you more often when you were alive. But you aren’t here anymore, are you? It has been a year, but the pain still feels fresh. I need to move on, I need to move on and live, for the both of us. I know you wouldn’t want me to be like this, unhappy and hurt. So, that’s why I am going to try. That’s why I am going to try and get back my life together, or at least try and get back what I can. I can’t get you back, so I suppose I will always be incomplete, I… I… I will have to find something to fill this gap, I must. So… don’t worry about me. Wherever you are, in the afterlife or somewhere else far away from me, I hope you are happy, Atsumu, and I will try and also be.’
He suppressed the urge to kiss the stone and instead settled on tracing the engravings once more before leaning away. One last look, he allowed himself to have one last look of the grave as well as the surroundings before he turned around, heading towards the way he had come from.
‘Thank ya for comin’.’
Sakusa halted in his steps, body urging to turn around, heart screaming to not severe the thin worn-out thread he had been holding onto. He clenches his fist, nails digging deep into the calloused insides of his hands. He craned his neck, eyes flickering to the cloudless sky ahead, the flower fragrance inhaled deep into his lungs before his gaze rested on the trail he had walked up to the hill.
‘See ya, Omi.’
Nearly undeterred by the dolefulness that the circumstances naturally harbored, the faintest traces of mirth stretching to the corners of his eyes as his lips curled into a smile, the familiar saline taste settling on his tongue.
When those buds sprout and bliss-pink petals spring open, I will not be there to relish in their scent and beauty. Even when autumn heralds its come, I will not stand and watch those flowers wither. This seed we planted and watered, having watched it grow into a tree together. Perhaps it will never bear fruit as it should have, though it will provide its shadows to someone other than me on a hot summer afternoon. Whatever the change of seasons might bring, I will stop and mourn when orchards no longer bloom.
‘Until then, Atsumu.’