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Sakusa was expecting Atsumu for their at-home date night, leaving the door to the flat cracked open to the hall. Despite the hour fast approaching, Sakusa remained seated on a small stool, stacking and restacking glasses on the small table. He was carrying them back and forth from the kitchen to the living room, because the table was clean but he knew he'd end up cleaning the kitchen counter twice. The house was quiet, the radio off as Sakusa's mind ran from thought to thought. Another date night at home, just like every week, because the anxious flutter he felt around Atsumu was too much when it might not be affection, but his body warning him that something was wrong. The way he felt flushed and sick to his stomach might not be because even after six months together and years as friends, Atsumus smile still shook him to his core. Loving Atsumu was too much like being ill, and it was painful to be in public when he felt so personally disassembled. So date nights happened at home, when they held hands it happened at home. They did everything, but really nothing at all, at home.
He rose to return the last of the glasses to the cupboard when Atsumu rapped his knuckles against the door quickly, grinning as Sakusa glanced up at him. "Hey Omi, can I come in?"
Sakusa glanced at his slightly curling damp hair, and seemingly fresh clothes. They might not actually be clean, he wondered, the skin under his wrist itching where his white shirt sleeve brushed against it. He sighed, grabbing the hand sanitiser from it's spot on the counter. As he approached he noticed below Atsumu's proffered hands he was wearing horrible neon green sneakers, and wrinkled his nose. He pumped once into his hands, "Welcome back, please take off those shoes on the mat."
Atsumu laughed, smacking his hands together and rubbing swiftly, Sakusa watched with distaste at how little attention he payed to each finger, but kept quiet. "What, Omi? Do ya not like em? I got then off some sponsors based in Hyogo."
Sakusa pulled out a wipe, cleaning the bottle before placing it back on the cupboard, to the left of the gloves and masks, all stored in a small plastic box, shielded from visitors.
Atsumu kept rambling as he toed of his shoes, using his fingers to push the shoelaces into the shoes. Sakusa flinched, wondering if his fingers had pressed against sweat damp soles. How long has he worn them?
Sakusa turned brusquely away, reestablishing distance as he approached the table where he was in the process of cleaning, coasters now splayed out for his inspection.
They were meant to watch a movie and order trainer sanctioned takeout. Atsumu, however stayed quiet.
Atsumu sat on the sofa and watched, leaning forward, as sakusa picked up, inspected, and wiped, scrubbed or sprayed each one. Sakusa felt like he was under a microscope, those warm eyes making his spine snap straight, his hands clench uselessly against the small disks. Atsumu was quiet, and Sakusa did not want to talk.
Sakusa wanted to hug him. He wanted to wrap his arms around his shoulders and pull him in. Let him into his embrace. And Atsumu would no doubt blush so beautifully, and tuck himself into sakusa, until they were practically meshed together. But where would sakusa rest his hands? Where would Atsumus hands go? Hands touch everything, hands are never really clean, how many things have they both touched today? Atsumu didn't really clean his hands that well at all. They can't touch, they can't, Sakusa can't-
"Omi?" Sakusas eyes darted up, slightly wide above the mask that was dipping inward with each heavy breath. "Are you alright?" Atsumu asked, thick brows furrowed, leaning further forward. What terrible posture Sakusa thought aimlessly, hyper focussing on how his elbows leaned against his corded thighs over his shorts.
Sakusa looked back down, to the coaster that he was still scrubbing in deep circular motions. He placed it down, focusing on its intricate frame, "I'm fine." He said, slowly, picking up the next, starting to fall into the rhythm, hands shaking in his eagerness to finish this. Finish this so he could sit on the sofa next to atsumu, trick himself into believing that the way the cushions moulded around his shoulders was like Atsumus strong arms, wrapped around him, secure.
"Are you sure?" Atsumu said, slipping off the sofa onto the floor next to him. "You seem like you have something on your mind."
Sakusas eyes glanced upwards, just as Atsumu finished, "and you know it's not good for you to try and think."
Sakusas scowl was a habitual response, but Atsumu only laughed for a short while before he steadied his eyes back on sakusa. They looked so inviting, large and round and honest, when everyone else could only see sharp and analysing. Sakusa knew, with a heavy feeling of embarrassment, that his own eyes were wide in response, were round with wonder as he looked down at Atsumu, hands beginning to stall on the coaster.
He ducked his head down, finally placing the last coaster down on the neat stack, before briskly rubbing over the coaster container, and wiping down the table where it sat.
He rose, putting space between them as he stored the coasters away, peeling off his gloves and going to wash his hands. He turned to close the bathroom door behind him, foot ready to flick it shut, but there once more was Atsumu. He was reliable and he cared, even as he flicked that dry straw like hair from his eyes, he was stupid and stupidly endearing. Sakusa felt something lodge in his throat. Suddenly flush and dizzy and his stomach felt heavy. Was he getting sick? They had a match next week. He can't be getting sick. He turned to the sink, wetting, soaking and scrubbing his hands for the set period of time before pulling out a new towel from the shelves to the side. The whole time, atsumu stood outside the door, keeping out of this boundary, and watched. "Kiyoomi, I can go if you want." He said, no inflection, no bite.
That wasn't how it had been at first. When Sakusa was adjusting, when he had kicked him out after only half an hour. Atsumu then had winced as he rose, had cast his eyes away. Had slumped his shoulders, words biting as he left. It had been hard, they hadn't talked well then at all.
Now when Atsumu instinctually washed his hands before he left, Sakusa felt breathless. Before he hadn't done that, before Sakusa had chased him out with the bottle of sanitiser, voice hoarse as he called out for atsumu in the hall of the building. He wanted atsumu to be clean, he wanted him to be safe, he had scolded him, even as his ears became hot.
He cared so quickly, but all his words were stuck inside his chest, festering and rotting at his core.
Sakusa was still scrubbing his hands under the hand towel, depositing it in the basket before he approached atsumu again.
It had been a while since Atsumu had asked. Sakusa thought his voice might have been hoarse or a whisper, but it came out normal, as if all this thinking in his head was separate from his body. "I'm fine, Tsumu, I just," he sighed heavily, his body feeling small with the expanse of the safe, clean bathroom to his back, and wild and free and so full of love Atsumu in front of him. Sakusa reached forward, hands pinching Atsumus shoulder sleeves, before slowly, laying them flat against his skin just under the hem. He didn't look at Atsumu, eyes focussed on still hands, fingers curled around, latching on.
Atsumu gazed up at him, eyes squinting slightly, as he smiled up at him. It was still somewhat a smirk, like when one of his spikers hit a particularly daring shot. That's my spiker, that smirk said, I'm so proud. Sakusas stomach still felt weighted, what had he done he couldn't help but think. He had done nothing to make Atsumu proud. Touching was normal, it was supposed to be normal, "it was supposed to be normal." Sakusa sighed. Eyes guarded as he stepped closer. "I want to hold you, and I want to be with you and I want us to do normal couple things"
Sakusas looked away, shame curling hot around his stomach, hands staying in place defiantly. He hasn't been so ashamed of his condition in so long, had lived so comfortably under demanding his space, judging those who couldn't listen before he could judge himself. It was who he was and people could leave him alone if they thought they had input to give. But now, now that sakusa cared, cared so deeply after only six months together, it just hurt. It was impossible not to want to change, to be someone who wasn't like this. Because, even if Atsumu was absolutely horrible, he deserved better. "Atsumu, I thought," he turned back, hands clenching tighter even as Atsumus made no moves himself, hands stoll crossed over his chest, "I thought I was making progress. I thought that because I liked you, I would be okay." The words let his mouth in a hiss as he felt Atsumu straighten up further, even though his hands stayed wrapped around him. It was clear he was biting his tongue, clear he wanted to protest, but he let Sakusa think on his words. Sakusa thought for too long, "I thought, I thought being with you would be easier than this. But now, when I see you, all I want is to hold you, and I can't." Sakusa felt his eyes sting, the shame turning his brain to static, he felt like his entire form was trembling. "Atsumu," he heaved out, breath catching, " I'm sorry."
He felt the crack in his voice run though Atsumus spine, as he froze under his touch.
"Sakusa," Atsumu murmured, arms falling lax at his side as he stepped forward, "don't apologize, you got nothing to apologise fer." The distress thickened his accent as he inched closer to sakusas frozen form. "I like you, only you. Maybe only ever you, Omi. I can't imagine being with anyone who doesn't wear gloves to the shop, or who had such a strict routine even before becoming a professional" He chuckled and lay his hands gently over Sakusas shirt at the waist, hands feather light, not pressing in at all. "I like you okay, I don't care about all that touching and stuff, I don't care about the not," he flushed, stumbling over his sentence, "the not, you know, not being with you."
He stopped coming closer, casting his eyes up to Sakusa's, drawing them back in from when they had turned away. "I don't think I could be with anyone more wonderful and perfect alright? So don't even think fer a second," he gritted out, "that I could be loved by anyone better."
Atsumu breathed out slowly, as if to continue, when Sakusa felt himself relax just a fraction, still leaning into Atsumu slightly, hands slowly running up his shoulders, marvelling at the touch, wishing it was more.
Sakusa felt another apology building in his throat, felt a barrage of counter arguments pounding with the race of his heart.
He held onto atsumu, and breathed slowly, eyes slipping shut as his focussed himself, lungs aching for air.
They stood there for a while, the pent up energy of the day bleeding out with the last stretching rays of sunlight.
"Atsumu," Sakusa murmured, eyes lidded, "I want," his eyes fluttered, "I want to try harder. I want to be closer to you."
Atsumus eyes flickered for a moment, back to those analysing eyes, squinting and probing, before opening back up to Sakusa, round once more.
"Okay," He murmured, inching closer, "we can start small as you like."
Sakusa was silent, rolling the thoughts around his head, eyes lost as he focussed on what was going going on in his head.
"I want to hug you." He said, voice pulled out from him with a strained ache to it. Atsumus hand pressed deeper into his shirt, not moving even as he affirmed, "Yeah, okay. Let's do that Omi Omi." He laughed obnoxiously as he continued, "I give great hugs you know, you'll be addicted in no time."
Sakusa scoffed, eyes rolling, "Shut up Miya," he berated, a smile curling under his mask, Atsumu was so infuriating.
He was amazing.
Too quick to allow a response, Sakusa lifted his hands off Atsumu completely, before engulfing him in his arms. Even with the contact, the way his skin felt too tight, another part of him was thinking of what he might do next. If he would pull his hands through that horrid hair, or cup them around his face. These hands were made to hold Atsumu, he thought with a lurching breath. Atsumu's hands inched slowly across his back, not subtle, but considerate and slow, and suddenly, finally they had done it. They were touching. They were holding onto each other.
Sakusa felt like he wasn't breathing at all, or maybe that was Atsumu, maybe neither of them were breathing. Maybe their breaths cancelled each other's out. Maybe they never had to breathe again, frozen in time.