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December 2012
December in Tokyo seemed colorless to Kiyoomi, though, everything seemed colorless for him. 2012 was ending and he was only getting older-- his passion right now seemed to be volleyball. He had believed that his spikes were perfect, being ranked first in his second year. Though he never showed it, he was proud of himself; his wish for his parent’s acceptance was a different story.
“Komori, stop staring.” His train of thought was cut off by his cousin’s intense staring. He was more up-tight compared to his outgoing and oh-so lovable cousin.
“I wasn’t even gonna say anything.”
Kiyoomi didn’t continue; he didn’t want to keep a conversation that wasn’t necessary. Especially when the warmth lulled his tense body as they opened the doors to the training center.
The two wasted no time in changing and adapting to the rigorous practice with the elite of Japan’s youth. Kiyoomi usually focused during games-- his mind cleared blank when he felt the sting of the ball bouncing off his hand, but the stare of a certain setter shifted his balance of comfortability.
“Nice kill!”
The Kansai Dialect is thick. Kiyoomi merely nodded, unfazed by the setter’s cheer. Though, he was interested in the lazy smile adorned on the setter’s, who he learned was Atsumu Miya, face. I’m only interested because he’s the best setter, that’s all. That’s the only reason.
The clock struck one; one in the morning to be exact.
Rain tapped to a rhythm on the overhang above the balcony. The taps accompanied by low, unsteady, humming paired with eyes that followed the cries of the sky lazily. Kiyoomi’s upper-body slouched over the icy railings; his arms crossed in front to hold him up. He had always been isolated ever since childhood. His parents and siblings never were around much-- they were too busy with their high-power status to care for him properly. Aren’t I lucky? To come from money and power.
“Yer’ gonna catch a cold.”
Right. He didn’t have layers on and stood immersed in the December rain in the late hours of the night. “And why are you up?”
“Noticed you were gone.”
The bleached-hair contrasted against the blanketed night-- his smile radiates warmth even through the December cries; or perhaps it was Kiyoomi’s face heating up. Silence choked them, words drowned in their throats. The quiet was comforting-- the pat on the back that Kiyoomi never got. He could feel Atsumu’s respect.
“Let’s enjoy the rain, Sakusa. Let’s get to know each other, Sakusa .”
Sakusa Kiyoomi loved the obscurity that is late-night. He enjoyed the lack of expectations people had for him in his isolated nights. He enjoyed the nighttime cries from the oh-so-happy white clouds that float endlessly in the daytime, and now, he desperately enjoyed the rainy nights where Atsumu Miya retold the shenanigans of his childhood that included his mentioned twin. Honestly, Kiyoomi envied Atsumu’s childhood-- being loved by your guardians and having someone constantly at your side to believe in you was something he coveted.
Nonetheless, the time at the training camp soon came to end, meaning his late-nights with Atsumu would soon come to an end.
“Omi-Omi, call me!” Atsumu’s bad dye-job, which Kiyoomi learned was from Osamu Miya, faded into the train back to Hyogo, followed by Kiyoomi’s genuine smile.
July 2013
“Omi-Omi! Miss me?”
It was summer break of their third and final year of high school; both were now 17 and captains of their team. They kept in-contact as soon as the calendars flipped through, ending the winter seasons, passing the spring, and entering the summer.
“I promise I’ll go to Tokyo to see you this weekend!” Never once had Atsumu come to Tokyo.
Kiyoomi’s spring calendar was peppered with marks where he found himself in Hyogo because Atsumu’s last minute flakes jeopardized their plans and Kiyoomi desperately wished to hold onto the only person that made him live and feel free from his status. Most of their hangouts happened to be under the pouring rain where they stood under separate umbrellas and exchanged stories and facts about one-another for hours on end.
Rain and Atsumu were hand-in-hand when it came to being Kiyoomi’s hideaway comfort. The soft cries of water falling matched Atsumu’s useless rambles where his eyes shone brightly with passion that made Kiyoomi wonder if he could ever enjoy something this much.
“Don’t flake this time, Miya.” The slight curl at the edge of his mouth was something that went unrecognized.
Kiyoomi found himself exiting the train onto the familiar station of Hyogo once again that weekend. This is fine. I’m happy here. I’m free here. I’m alive here.
“Omi-Omi!”
His curls flung as they landed flushed around his head. His hazed eyes focused on the figure running towards him-- Atsumu was more built than when he last met him in April. Kiyoomi still seemed to be taller. His weight shifted from foot to foot-- what am I so nervous about? It’s a simple friendly meetup.
The shops in Hyogo leaned more on the family-owned side where Atsumu lived; Kiyoomi liked it. He liked seeing the families bond through a generational passion in a town where everyone seemed like family. It was quite the contrast compared to the isolated home he was trapped in for all his life and the busy, shallow malls he’s been to in Tokyo.
The crowd intensified during the afternoon as kids began coming out to play-- bikes, balls, and innocence mingled on the streets with the old seniors greeting the shop owners, the mothers looking for the freshest produce to turn into tonight’s curry, and the men carrying stocks to the back. Kiyoomi felt a warm hand encase him to which his body tensed.
“Sorry Omi-Omi. Don’t wanna get separated from ya’. Is it ok?” Atsumu was barely audible through the shoutings of scores in children’s games.
“Yea. I don’t mind when it’s you. ” A warm red ignited and painted itself across Kiyoomi’s pale face. The palette of warm sunset colors that rested on Kiyoomi’s cheeks were hidden by the white mask he wore.
Their stroll down the shops went on as they bickered about small things that seemed boring to the average person but Atsumu made interesting with his extreme expressions. The warm rays of the sun were now hidden by the gray clouds that brimmed and soon alleviated itself of its neutral sorrows.
The sudden tug that ushered Kiyoomi under an overhang of a random charm shop; oh right, he’s holding my hand. The sunset paints itself under his mask again as Atsumu’s warm body pushes itself flush against Sakusa’s.
“We should head--” he’s left breathless at the sight of Atsumu clinging onto his right arm-- face flushed. “--inside.”
The shop hugged the two in the arms of warmth as the sound of balanced rain blurred out-- the smell of peppermint filled Atsumu’s nose as Kiyoomi lazily scanned the shop. Handwoven bracelets hung from racks as shiny tags and charms glowed in baskets and boxes on display. Atsumu had let go of Kiyoomi as he began wandering the slim aisles, eyeing shiny tags with various labels, shapes, and finishes. Kiyoomi merely trailed behind him-- unsure of what to do with himself.
“Rain comes and goes.” The tag glinted; the twinkle that danced on the engraved words lured Kiyoomi in. Rain and Atsumu go hand-in-hand when it comes to his comfort. They wash away the expectations of a high family name and create an isolated bubble of just his own wishes and dreams. Calloused hands contrasted the icy chill of the tag as Kiyoomi picked it up and strides over to the wall where the weaved bracelets hung loosely; his fingers wrapping around the yellow rope intertwined with a scarlet red.
Money was never an issue for Kiyoomi; his mother being a powerful lawyer following behind his CEO father. He handed the lady yen and held the velvet box gently which contrasts the power he would put into a volleyball. He exits the warm grasp of the shop to see Atsumu sitting idly on the bench in front of the shop.
The rain continued to dance along the streets as Kiyoomi filled the empty spot next to Atsumu-- inhaling, he grabbed the setter’s warm hands and slipped the velvet box from his cold ones. “For you.”
The box opened upward with gentle forces from Atsumu. “Omi-Omi. Thank you. I love it; rain really does remind me of us.”
Us. What even were they? What label would they even use? Friends, right?
The train ride home radiated a warmth that felt so new to Kiyoomi. Sitting alone with empty seats staring at his figure slumped in the corner, his tired body ached from running around in the rain with his friend . Managing the last burst of energy his body could give, the text “I had fun today, thank you for that, Atsumu,” was sent-- only for the words, “Seen at 2:32 am,” to be flashed back.
July 2014
Calendar pages fly off as quickly as the graduation caps thrown overhead-- Kiyoomi had graduated 4 months ago. His college tuition funded by his absent parents results in him not worrying about his future. He only went to please his darling parents but lacked in studies; it’s not that he was dumb, he was simply uninterested-- actually, no. Something gnawed at his mind constantly.
“Seen at 2:32 am, July 30th, 2013.”
It had been almost a year in counting-- no response from him. The bed dipped in response to Kiyoomi’s weight falling onto the plush sheets that his parents also gifted. Vision blurred and nose stuffed-- this was the fifth time this week. Tears that could fill swimming pools shed themselves from Kiyoomi’s eyes began to continuously fall ever since that day. A ritual of sorts.
The sky mothered Kiyoomi like its own child-- she began to shed her own tears to sympathize with her son that laid lifelessly-- pondering, and questioning. Classes and games seemed to have blurred through his brain which rotted of Atsumu. Nothing was normal in his life anymore; the rain thundered as his choked sobs drowned the noise of worthlessness that spiraled his mind.
The clock struck one; one in the morning to be exact.
Remember when you said I made you happy? Who makes you happy now; certainly not me.
Messy brush strokes paint themselves on papers that scattered on the wooden floor of his room. Messy brush strokes that paint the inner brain rot that gnawed at his brain every single hour of his lifeless days.
You say such loving words, but what meaning did they have?
The empty promises of seeing me were only fulfilled by me who came out to see you.
The blessing of being freed from the chain of expectations only to be chained up by the person you had idolized most.
Sometimes I think about you.
Rain is-- scratch that, was a comfort. Atsumu Miya is, scratch that, was a comfort.
I love Atsumu Miya.
That feeling of isolation began to creep up on him again-- hands wrapped around Kiyoomi’s throat as it breathed down his neck. It’s back to remind him that he only belongs to the idealistic expectations of his parents and that he was merely a trophy kid. Atsumu Miya never wanted him-- he was simply bored.
“Kiyoomi. Don’t cry. It looks shameful.” The words of his darling mother strengthened the chokehold. He could barely breathe as he bathed himself in the sheets that were stained of emotion and feelings he hadn’t wished to experience.
They were so different after all, a free country boy wanting an idealistic city boy? The idea of it is ridiculous as his dear-old-father would scold. The bed sheets slid with Kiyoomi as his body dragged itself down the bed-- sheets hanging over his body like a cape of a hero turned evil. Picking up the sheet of paper that had it’s scars and stains of past tears and wears, he read off the words, “ I love Atsumu Miya .”
Hands shook as the pen that laid numb on the table fit into his grip; he wrote: “ I love Atsumu Miya, but I can’t keep pitying myself anymore. The rain needs to go at some point. ”
Signing the last dot on the sheet, he flew back to his bed, bouncing up a bit again. This time, the rain began to clear, and so did his idolized version of Atsumu Miya.
August to December 2021
Being an adult comes with a perk: fleeing the harsh expectations enforced by his parents. Kiyoomi Sakusa had graduated college and now did whatever the hell he felt like-- and he felt like joining the MSBY Black Jackals in Osaka. However, something he should’ve researched more before deciding on MSBY was that Atsumu Miya was their main setter.
The air around them grew thick when Kiyoomi entered the gym. Atsumu’s usual lazy smirk morphed into a thin line as his eyes trailed lazily along Kiyoomi’s path. On the brighter side of news, practice went well. They somehow synced up beautifully much to both of their surprise.
Days shifted to weeks that soon morphed into months-- Kiyoomi began to get closer, as close as he wants, to the rest of the players, except Atsumu. They haven’t spoken to each other personally outside of practice for the time that Kiyoomi has been here; the rest of the team had noticed and made their own theories. To each their own, the two never crossed each other’s paths.
“Omi-Omi! Wanna hang out again?”
Air thickened into a constricting hold-- the dimmed common room of the hotel they stayed at suddenly rang against Kiyoomi’s ears. His breaths shortened as his face contorted in disgust. “Are you kidding me right now, Miya?” The last name was sharp against Atsumu’s ears.
“What the hell are ya’ talking about?” Atsumu’s eyebrows furrowed-- his smirk still played against his lips.
“Oh would you quit it? You left me on seen for--” Kiyoomi’s voice cracked, “...like, eight years now Miya? I’m fucking upset! I spent a whole year of my life wandering around like a shell of a person-- why? Because that’s exactly what I was!” Those tears that filled swimming pools back then seemed to have returned; they fell in sync with the rain that had once started to fall again.
“Oh well I’m fucking sorry that I got busy and ya’ couldn’t realize that!” Wind that blew stray leaves and carried rain to lash across the two’s faces that flushed red against the gloom of December.
“Well then Miya, I am so fucking sorry I was in love with you! It’s always ‘I’m gonna follow my passions’ this, but you never took the time to care about me! All the times I went to Hyogo because you flaked was nothing huh?”
“Well why don’t we start over, Omi-Omi? I’m sorry-- I didn’t know.” Atsumu’s words softened as his body held its warm arms out, awaiting Kiyoomi.
“Atsumu Miya, don’t lie. You’re in love with Hinata,” Kiyoomi’s voice lowered into the silent whispers like the wind that scolded Atsumu. “I can’t love you anymore, Miya. Like rain, you were once a comfort, but rain always leaves, doesn’t it?”
The glint of the charm, “rain comes and goes” hung loosely on Atsumu’s wrist as Kiyoomi walked into the sobbing storm. Atsumu stood, dumbfounded. He knew Kiyoomi didn’t lie and he was right. They could never start over, for it was December, raining at one in the morning, where they would learn something new about each other. However, this was the last time they’d stand under the rain together, for rain has to come and go.