Chapter Text
“Do you think Ayumi-chan would like this one?” Komori asks as he holds up a terracotta cable knit scarf. “ Or do you think she’d like the dark gray one instead?”
Sakusa would genuinely like to be anywhere else than be in the midst of the bustling Hep Five shopping complex on a weekend . However, Komori had insisted on doing some Christmas shopping and thus after much coaxing, Sakusa ended up acceding to his cousin’s request which explains why he’s now trying to help him decide which scarf would be more palatable to Komori’s girlfriend--someone Sakusa has never even met in person which makes him wonder why any of his opinions on the matter would even be remotely reliable.
“I don’t understand why you would need my thoughts on this,” Sakusa says.
Komori continues to examine the scarf in his hand. “That’s because I can always trust you to make sound decisions.”
“With respect to scarves ?” Sakusa comments with a sardonic cock of one eyebrow.
His cousin rolls his eyes at him. “Don’t be a smartass, Kiyoomi. And in case you forgot, last time we met, we agreed to do something that I wanted to do. And I want to do some Christmas shopping. “
Sakusa sighs then shoves his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket. “Fine. But we’re still taking the stairs and escalators. No elevators .”
“I already heard you the first time,” Komori replies, too wholly immersed in browsing through even more scarves on the seemingly endless shelves of apparel.
Above the usual white noise of chattering mall-goers, Sakusa manages to catch the sound of the elevator from across the clothing boutique, its heavy doors opening to allow three people to get off before accommodating five more passengers.
Sakusa hears a low whistle from behind him and it’s Komori cradling a paper bag in his right arm.
“I wonder what’s in the seventh floor that’s got so many people interested,” his cousin muses.
“It’s either the food court,” Sakusa says. “Or that absolutely ridiculous ferris wheel.”
He then looks over to Komori who has already lost interest in the conversation and has begun typing away at his phone.
“Oh I was just texting Ayumi-chan,” Komori tells him. “Told her to look forward to her present.”
Sakusa knits his brows, but holds himself back from uttering anything that would only elicit more snarky retorts from his cousin.
“I assume this means we can finally go somewhere else?” Sakusa suggests. “Preferably one that isn’t crawling with a thousand people?”
Komori beams as he waves the paper bag which Sakusa reckons definitely contains a dark gray scarf. “Mission accomplished, Kiyoomi! Go forth and choose our next destination.”
They ended up going to a hole in the wall restaurant that was a good twenty-minute walk from the general vicinity of the shopping complex.
“Way to avoid the crowds,” Komori says while taking his seat. “It’s like we’re the only people here.”
Sakusa slips off his jacket before draping it on the backrest of his chair. “That’s the whole point. But the food’s good here, I promise.”
Once Sakusa has sat down,, Komori pulls himself closer, shoulders a bit more hunched as he begins to fiddle with the phone in his hand.
“So I've been wanting to tell you some important news,” his cousin slowly relays, but there are hints of excitement in his voice.
"Go on," Sakusa says.
"It's about Ayumi-chan and me," Komori confesses. "We've actually been thinking about moving in together."
Sakusa pauses in the middle of dousing his hand with sanitizer. "Can I ask why?"
“She just got hired at a different company so she’s been planning on moving out of her parents’ house. To live somewhere closer to her office,” Komori explains. “And I told her what if I move out of the EJP Raijin dorm so that we could just live together. Share rent and all that.”
Perceptiveness kicking in, Sakusa narrows his eyes at the cousin he’s known far too long for him to easily overlook how Komori obviously wants more details to be wheedled out of him.
“There’s something you’re not really telling me,” Sakusa finally says.
Komori leans back then fixes his gaze on something outside the restaurant's large windows. “What do you feel when you’re with Miya-san?”
It doesn’t take long for the image of a boy with amber eyes and a grin that flickers between mischief and tenderness to pop up in Sakusa’s head.
“A lot,” is all that Sakusa reveals, grateful for the face mask that conceals the kind of smile only someone as besotted as Sakusa could conjure.
His cousin laughs and he returns his attention to Sakusa who’s effectively trying to keep the rising heat from spreading across his face.
"I feel a lot for Ayumi-chan too," Komori admits. "And part of this 'a lot' has me wishing we could just have a space for ourselves. Where we could just do nothing and it would feel all kinds of right, you know?"
To feel all kinds of right.
A few months back, Sakusa would have scoffed at this sentiment. Too obscure, too much of an inflated ideal that was so far removed from his personal reality that when it had crash-landed on him, it had taken a lot of getting used to. But Atsumu made it easy for him and all the initial qualms and bouts of skepticism dissipated and was gradually replaced with delighted recklessness, a kind of confidence in himself that was only matched with more startling instances of vulnerability. All of which was so new, so radical, but felt so right . All kinds of right.
In that instance, something tugs in Sakusa's chest and it's an elated longing to drown in warm copper-tone gazes, a contemplation that soon transforms to what-ifs--eating breakfast in silence, sleepy figures dripping in golden hour rays as they fall asleep on the couch, no longer having to whisper affections but instead declaring it in the open space they've claimed for themselves.
Faraway fantasies that reinforce this very notion of feeling all kinds of right.
Sakusa clears his throat. "I think I understand. Maybe."
"Well don't sweat it, Kiyoomi. You and Miya-san will get there someday," Komori says with an almost sympathetic smile.
I'm already here.
***
Atsumu loves being home with his family. The distinct kansai-ben of Hyogo rolls off their tongues like welcoming embraces and Atsumu knows that while he's not particularly prone to homesickness, to him there will still be no place like Amagasaki.
A sizable portion of their family from his mother's side have crammed themselves inside Onigiri Miya which has been closed off to celebrate their grandparents' wedding anniversary. To say that they're rather tight-knit would be an understatement considering that their family has, without fail, used the anniversary to double as an annual family reunion.
After the cake has been served, Atsumu retreats to the restroom where he checks his phone for any new messages. There aren't any, the last exchange being the reply he'd sent earlier to Sakusa telling the latter that he'd be back in Osaka tomorrow.
As he exits the restroom, he spots his brother sneaking away to the back of the restaurant.
"Hey," Atsumu says as he steps outside into the cold to join his twin. "Getting tired already?"
Osamu scoffs. "Please, this is nothing compared to my usual Friday nights."
His twin proceeds to pull out a box of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his jacket. Then he takes a stick out before popping it into his mouth.
"Not that I care, but you know that's going to kill you one day," Atsumu tells his brother.
"Cut me some slack," Osamu says while he lights the cigarette. "And it’s not even like I’m overdoing it. Only a dumbass would waste every spare cent on these.”
Atsumu just eyes him warily. "Whatever you say."
"Look," Osamu bristles. "Running a business is not easy and I need to find ways to calm down. Just don’t ever fucking tell mom, got it?"
"I get it already damn," Atsumu replies. "Also, grouchy much? No wonder you're single."
Osamu takes a long drag, completely ignoring the attempt at a scathing remark. "Speaking of which, how's it going with you and your lover?"
Atsumu groans. "I already told you to stop calling him that! The word ‘boyfriend’ exists, you asshole."
"Potato, potahto," Osamu waves a hand dismissively. "So going back, have you guys...you know."
"Know what?" Atsumu raises his eyebrow at his twin who only gives him a very telling look that instantly results in the furious rush of blood to his head, all the way to the very tips of his ears.
"What the hell, 'Samu?!"
Osamu furrows his brows in confusion. "What? Why are you so embarrassed? It's just sex. Unless--"
"Because it's fucking weird for someont to ask their sibling about their sex life, okay?"
And Osamu just snickers at him, flicking off the ash from his cigarette. "Oh my god you guys haven't fucked at all yet, have you?"
"I'm done talking to you," Atsumu declares as he angrily slides the backdoor open. "And I sure as hell hope you actually die of lung cancer!"
"At least I won't die a virgin!" Osamu yells after him.
It shouldn’t have bothered Atsumu that much. It really shouldn’t have. And yet, he’s painfully aware of how he’s quite literally losing sleep over the exchange he had with his brother from earlier that evening.
Stupid piece of shit ‘Samu!
He rolls to his side and resists the urge to check on his phone, recalling how Sakusa had reprimanded him before about how blue light from screens can apparently affect a person’s melatonin levels. But Sakusa’s not around anyway and his sleep cycle’s already fucked, so he reaches for the device and unlocks it before opening the last conversation he had with Sakusa.
Omi
Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.
His thumb hovers over the screen, debating on whether or not he should vent out what’s been bothering him in hopes of achieving just the barest sense of mental calmness. Just enough to sedate him for the night.
However, the looming ungodly hour has him reconsidering his decision and so he ends up opening an internet browser instead. But even as Atsumu scrolls through video after video of game highlights on Youtube, a decent portion of his brain continues to be plagued by nagging thoughts which irritatingly starts to closely mimic Osamu’s voice.
Why are you so embarrassed? It's just sex.
His brother’s not entirely wrong. It really is just sex . And Atsumu is not exactly a stranger to this aspect of human nature. In fact, when he had started figuring out his own sexuality, porn had in some way served as a ‘guide’ in helping him understand more about himself and his preferences. However, as soon as he had established what he likes and doesn’t like, he dabbled less and less in it, wholly focusing and devoting even more time on volleyball.
Yet as Atsumu lays there, restless and increasingly vexed by the hours of sleep that he’s missing, he thinks he should just bite the bullet and revisit a teenage pastime--just to reaffirm to himself that it really isn’t that big of a deal.
He types in the familiar site url and already he’s hit with a bizarre wave of nostalgia, of him in his teenhood fueled by confusion, curiosity, and the complexities of peer pressure. He then reaches out for his earphones then quickly plugs it in the jack once he’s located it.
Somehow, Atsumu can’t shake off the feeling that he’s lost and he begins to second-guess his decision to venture once more into this seedy corner of the internet.
It’s not a big deal, it’s not a big deal.
He clicks on one of the more popular videos on the site. It takes a few seconds for it to load, but once it does, Atsumu finds himself holding his breath in anticipation.
The scene that plays on screen isn’t something Atsumu hasn’t seen before, so he watches with initial disinterest. However, as the two men in the video become more increasingly swept up in each other’s strokes and caresses, something begins to jostle around in the innermost corner of his brain, so subtle but incessant in its attempt to claw its way to the surface.
And Atsumu knows how it’s so quite nearly there because he blinks once and he sees a familiar head of dark curls dip down between a pair of thighs, and the once spotless body of one of the actors now bears a mole by his collarbone and rib cage, and ultimately two prominent dots on his forehead.
I’m losing it.
The unwelcome delirium is enough to make him frantically pause the video and exit the site. Nonetheless, the obscene noises from his earphones continue to echo wildly in his head and in the haze of his burgeoning arousal, he still manages to have some semblance of his wits as he nearly flings himself off his bed. He ends up going through their family’s medicine cabinet as a last resort, searching for sleeping pills which he generally dislikes because they always make him groggy even after he wakes up.
But side effects be damned because Atsumu just really wants to fucking get some shut-eye already.
Atsumu hasn’t had a sex dream in years. That is, until now. And it feels too real how Sakusa takes him in his mouth, too real how acute the pleasure is that courses through his body when he climaxes, and too real when he sees the look of horror and disgust on Sakusa’s face that’s been tainted by his wanton release.
When he wakes up, he’s sweaty and in an expected state of grogginess. But even in his barely conscious condition, the dream that had felt too much like a nightmare is starkly clear in his head. And in some masochistic choice, he scrambles to remember more and more of it only to realize what is causing so much reluctance on his part--on why despite it being just sex --it is still a big deal as far as Sakusa is concerned. Because Sakusa always keeps his room spick and span. Because Sakusa would never fail to shower three times a day. Because Sakusa treats everyday as laundry day. Because Sakusa avoids public transport and large, congested crowds.
And because Atsumu will do anything for Sakusa so that he is able to feel safe in every sense of the word.
Atsumu was able to catch the bus to Osaka just a little after ten a.m. and even then he's still reeling from, well, basically everything that had happened. He tries not to think about it and for the first thirty minutes of the ride, he manages to drown it out by listening to a sports podcast. Unfortunately, his phone alerts him that he's running out of batteries and Atsumu groans internally as he recalls how his stupid late-night proclivities had rseulted in him forgetting to charge his damn phone.
To save his remaining batteries, he closes all the phone applications and resigns to sitting in complete silence for the rest of the trip.
"My boyfriend wants us to move in together," he overhears a girl whisper from the seat behind him. "What do you think that means?"
Another girl does a toned down squeal. "That means he wants more privacy so...you know."
The first girl gasps. "Eri, you pervert!"
"I'm only saying the truth," the second girl says. "Isn’t that a big reason why people move in together?"
The two girls continue their scandalous back and forth and Atsumu would have told them off right then and there if it weren't for the fact that he's already a professional athlete and that earlier at the station, two different people had recognized him and had asked for his autograph.
Thankfully, an old lady from across the aisle shushes them and Atsumu sighs in relief because he wasn't sure he could handle hearing any more of some stranger's sexual escapades.
Why are you so embarrassed? It's just sex.
"Just shut up already, 'Samu!" he accidentally whispers out loud, perhaps just a little bit too loud because he sees some passengers eyeing him suspiciously.
He bows apologetically before leaning fully back and melting into his seat, mortified, vaguely weary and just itching to be on the court again so he can really distract himself.
Finally, Atsumu takes out his phone and decides to just listen to the podcast. However, before he does, he opens LINE on his phone.
To: Stupid Samu
By the way, I told mom that you smoke. :P
Stupid Samu
You piece of shit!
***
Their weekend off had definitely proven effective because practice had gone well that day and nothing personally pleases Sakusa more than knowing that he's in good physical and mental condition.
They've finished cooling down and have finally retreated to the locker room. As usual, Sakusa's the first one in and out of the showers and as he slips on a navy blue sweatshirt and some jeans, his phone starts vibrating from the inside pocket of his bag.
"That your phone, Omi-kun?" Atsumu asks.
"Yeah," Sakusa replies as he quickly buckles his belt.
He finally fishes out his phone from his bag to find out that his own mother has been calling him.
"Gotta take this," Sakusa tells Atsumu who just nods in acknowledgment.
Sakusa presses the answer button as he walks out into the hallway. "Hello?"
"Kiyoomi!" His mother cries from the other end. "Why didn't you pick up right away?”
"I was changing. We just finished practice," he tells her. "Why did you call?"
"Well, I was wondering if you had already bought a tuxedo for your brother's wedding," his mother says.
"I haven't as of yet," Sakusa admits. "I've actually been planning on buying next week so I can take advantage of the Christmas sales."
"Nonsense!" his mother admonishes. "You know your brother's wedding is a week after Christmas. You have to buy one as soon as possible already in case you need to get alterations.”
Sakusa sighs. "But I doubt I would need to get it altered, mother."
"You don't know that," his mother snaps. "Just go and buy one already. Oh, and don't forget to send me photos of the tuxedo as well."
"Alright," Sakusa says. "I'll buy the tuxedo by this week."
"Good," his mother replies. "Anyway, I’ve got to go. I'll call you later this week for an update."
"Sure."
And unsurprisingly, the line immediately goes dead.
He doesn't know why he still takes the time to look at his phone after these particular calls that only end the same way. Yet Sakusa stares at the screen that shows the timestamp of the call which as expected never seems to go beyond three minutes. In this case, it didn't even last one.
Sakusa eventually makes his way back to the locker room where everyone is still in the middle of getting changed.
"You okay?" Atsumu asks him.
"My mother called," Sakusa says. "She told me I should go and buy a tuxedo for my brother's wedding already."
Atsumu picks up one of his sneakers and shoves a foot inside. "You mean you don't just have a tux lying around?"
"Umm, no?" Sakusa answers. "Do I look like someone who would just randomly own a tux?”
"Well..." Atsumu says.
Sakusa just rolls his eyes. Then he puts his phone back in his bag, plucking his face mask from another compartment afterwards. He does the math and comes to the conclusion that he needs to buy the tuxedo in the next three days.
Another weekend.
If it were up to him and his original plan on getting the tux on the 23rd-- a weekday --he wouldn't have to deal with too densely populated shopping districts. However there's nothing he can do, not especially against his mother's demands, and so Sakusa sighs in acceptance of this reality instead.
I guess I would just have to adjust.
"Atsumu?"
The setter looks up from tying his shoelaces. "Yeah?"
"Would you mind if I ask you to accompany me?" Sakusa says casually. "To go buy a tuxedo, I mean."
Atsumu flashes him a smile he’s seen a dozen times over yet the effect is consistent across all circumstances--a hitch in his throat, a flutter in his stomach.
"Of course, Omi-kun. I wouldn't mind at all."
***
Weekend practice ended late and so it was almost dusk when they had both left the gym and went straight to the Hep Five shopping complex.
“So which floor is that store again?” Atsumu asks.
Sakusa checks his phone. “Third floor.”
They find the escalators going up and once they make it to the third floor, they weave through even more crowds of people before finally arriving at the tuxedo place which apparently also doubles as a tailor shop.
Atsumu eyes the storefront, taking in the ornate Victorian aesthetic which is only amplified tenfold once they step inside the actual store. Sturdy wooden shelves with neatly folded dress shirts. Racks where blazers and pants are hung. There are also coats of varying textures on display as well as shoes that range from wingtips to shiny leather oxfords. The mannequins in three piece suits complete the overall interior of the shop along with the leather coach and the accompanying dark brown suede sofa chair.
Goddamn, Omi-kun.
“My mother’s friend owns this store,” Sakusa whispers to him. “So--”
“You had no choice,” Atsumu finishes for him.
“Exactly.”
A very well-dressed man comes from behind the counter to greet them. “What can I do for you gentlemen today?”
Atsumu looks from the sales attendant to Sakusa. “Actually--”
“I just need a black tuxedo,” Sakusa cuts in.
The sales attendant smiles. “Well is there a specific design that you’re looking for, sir?”
“Ideally whatever would fit me well would be fine,” Sakusa says.
“Okay then,” the sales attendant replies eagerly. “That shouldn’t be too hard. You look very well-built and I think many of our pieces will fit you perfectly.”
Atsumu notices Sakusa on the verge of cringing and it nearly makes Atsumu want to laugh.
“Well I hope your garments have been sanitized,” Sakusa replies instead.
“Yes, sir. We make sure to steam and dry-clean them,” the sales attendant assures.“Anyway, please have a sit first and then I’ll just call you to the dressing room.”
They sit beside each other on the leather couch, and Atsumu drops his gym bag by his feet to make space for Sakusa’s own bag which he places in the space between them on the couch.
“So are you excited for your brother’s wedding?” Atsumu asks.
Sakusa does a half-hearted shrug. “I mean, I don’t feel indifferent about it. However, I can’t say that I’m really looking forward to it either.”
“I think it’s fine to feel that way,” Atsumu tells him. “ I wouldn’t know how to feel either if ‘Samu gets married.”
“You’d cry,” Sakusa says plainly. “Because it would feel bittersweet for you."
The bluntness of it all should have taken him back, but instead there’s this distinct sense of contentment in knowing that there really is no need for Atsumu to put up pretenses before Sakusa. And so Atsumu wallows in it just like he always does.
“Maybe,” Atsumu muses. “Depends on the level of asshole he is on his wedding day.”
Sakusa chuckles. “I sure hope you don’t at least end up wrestling each other during the reception.”
“I wouldn’t count on it, Omi-kun.”
Just then, the sales attendant from earlier has returned and they both immediately got to their feet.
“I have chosen three pieces for you to try on, sir. Just to keep your options open,” the sales attendant relays. “So would you kindly please follow me now to the dressing room?”
Atsumu starts to sit back down, but just as he was beginning to get comfortable on the couch--
“Excuse me,” Sakusa says. Then he motions to Atsumu. “Is it alright if he comes with me?”
The sales attendant’s eyes shift from Sakusa then to Atsumu. “Of course. Always nice to get a friend’s opinion on an outfit after all.”
“Okay, but who’s going to watch our things?” Atsumu says as he carries both their gym bags.
“I can deposit your bags for you at the counter,” the sales attendant offers. “You can both go ahead to the dressing room.”
They promptly thank the sales attendant before walking all the way to the back of the store. Finally they enter the dressing room which is a decent-sized circular space with curtained stalls going all around it. A round suede seat is at its very center and Atsumu plops down on it once they’ve stepped inside.
“I think that’s yours,” Atsumu points at a stall from right across him, the curtains already pushed to the side. “It’s got all those fancy suits.”
He hears Sakusa sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”
And with that, Sakusa disappears inside the stall.
Atsumu sits patiently, occasionally hearing the sound of rustling fabric and the clacking of coat hangers from behind the drawn curtains. He pulls out his phone and checks for new movie reviews. Eventually, he comes across a particularly interesting one resulting in him getting too engrossed with reading it that he doesn’t even notice that Sakusa has already stepped out of the stall.
“Well?”
What he sees quite nearly makes him drop his phone.
On the mannequin earlier, the white dress shirt, tie, double-breasted waistcoat, and fitted blazer combo had looked chic enough to draw in potential customers. But on Sakusa Kiyoomi, it was just exceptionally exquisite .
“Atsumu? Are you listening?”
Atsumu blinks back a few times before opening his mouth. “W-what did you say?”
“I was asking whether or not it looks too tight around the shoulders,” Sakusa tells him while stretching an arm to the side. “So?”
“You’re so hot,” is what accidentally slips out of Atsumu which luckily wasn’t loud enough for Sakusa to catch.
“Huh?”
“I-I mean, it’s not that tight around the shoulders,” Atsumu says in a fit of slight panic. “It’s fine. Just...fine.”
Sakusa raises his eyebrow at him. “Okay? Still feels a bit tight for me though. I’m going to try something else.”
He reenters the stall and tugs the curtain close behind him, leaving Atsumu utterly alone to deal with the fact that seeing his boyfriend in crisp formal wear has awakened something in him. It’s especially laughable considering that Atsumu has always regarded things like suits and ties as too drabby and downright uncomfortable. He had even whined about his high school uniform and had always envied the black gakuran of other schools. Perhaps it could have just been the athlete in him that had caused him to favor apparel that didn’t look stiff and unyielding like a suit. Or a tuxedo.
But damn was he wrong and Sakusa had just full-on converted him.
“Hey, can you come in here real quick?” he hears Sakusa say.
And Atsumu, as unreligious as he may be, begins to invoke prayers in his head as he approaches the stall. He draws in a breath then pushes the curtain aside to reveal Sakusa in a white dress shirt, an undone black bowtie, and slacks.
Atsumu’s mouth immediately goes dry.
“I don’t know how to put this on.”
Sakusa is holding up what looks to be black suspenders and already the mental imagery of Sakusa in the complete ensemble has Atsumu feeling slightly lightheaded.
“I-I think this should go over your head,” Atsumu suggests, willing the nerves away as he lifts the suspenders above Sakusa. Once it’s on, he eventually steps back because heaven knows what else he would do if he stands another second too close.
Sakusa then holds one of the front straps and examines the ends. “These look like I should button them somewhere, but I can’t seem to find any buttons…”
Atsumu clears his throat. “Have you checked the waistband?”
Sakusa pats along the slack’s waistband before folding back the hem where he sees two buttons sewn inside. “Looks like you’re right.”
“Guess there should be buttons at the back too,” Atsumu says.
“Could you do those for me?” Sakusa asks. “I can’t reach that far.”
God if you’re real please help me.
Atsumu steps forward then reaches to grab the Y-shaped strap before sticking his fingers inside the waistband to feel for the buttons. Eventually, he manages to securely fasten the strap to the waistband. Atsumu then lifts his head to see his own reflection in the mirror they’re both standing in front of and he’s shocked to find out that he’s blushing. Hard . And he blushes even more once he notices that Sakusa himself has been looking at him from the mirror’s reflection this entire time.
For a moment, they stay silent. Only staring at each other’s reflections.
When Sakusa spins around to finally face Atsumu, the latter makes an involuntary gasping sound as he’s pushed back and pinned against a smooth wooden panel. And in half a heartbeat, Sakusa is claiming Atsmu’s mouth with his own, and Atsumu could only react with equal hunger as he grabs the front of his dress shirt and pulls him impossibly close. They kiss with urgency and with so much need that they’ve momentarily left out the chances of anyone just walking in on them unannounced.
They eventually part for air, their mouths still mere inches from each other. Atsumu, meanwhile, is utterly breathless and he’s not even entirely sure if the racing heartbeat against his ribs are his or Sakusa’s because he’s so pressed up against him.
“Never wear anything like this in front of me ever again,” Atsumu warns in between pants.
Sakusa tilts his head to the side, a mocking smile already on his lips. “Would you rather me not wear anything at all then?”
“Is this what you find fun, Omi-kun?” Atsumu gives a half-growl. “Teasing me?”
“I think this says more about you than it does about me, Atsumu.”
They kiss again, pacing themselves this time. Atsumu is no longer fisting the fabric of Sakusa’s dress shirt, but instead his hands have fallen on Sakusa’s waist where he lets his thumb rub circles just above the hip area. When they pull away, they start to chuckle, foreheads pressed against each other in a space too small for two over-six foot tall athletes.
“I have to go back outside or else we’ll be here all night,” Atsumu whispers.
“Good call.”
“Although you have to let go of me first so I can leave, Omi-kun.”
Instead of arms falling away to release him, Atsumu feels the embrace tighten. “Just give me a minute.”
“Just one more minute?”
“Just one more minute.”
***
It’s nearly seven p.m. when they leave the store so Atsumu suggests they just grab dinner at the mall before heading back home. Sakusa, despite his general distaste of eating at mall food courts, gives in to the offer. After all, he’s also grown quite famished since they had to come straight from practice and therefore walking for an additional fifteen to twenty minutes to some restaurant outside would just be impractical.
They talk and share niche jokes over their bowls of donburi and as they dig into the mounds of rice and meat, Sakusa temporarily forgets that he’s in a place brimming with people. A situation that would have usually made his skin-crawl if he’s exposed to such mass gatherings for too long. But he hardly hears the noise and the mall-goers have all become one big blur in the background because there’s only Atsumu who makes things feel the most right.
“You ever tried going on that?” Atsumu eyes the entrance leading to the giant red ferris wheel on top of the shopping complex.
Sakusa shakes his head. “I don’t even go to this place unless I really have to.”
“Do you wanna try it out?”
If it were anyone else, a curt no would have been the only response to make to such a proposal. But this is Atsumu and with him, it’s always been one leap of faith after another and truthfully, Sakusa’s not looking to stop anytime soon.
“Sure,” he replies.
“Cool!” Atsumu beams.
After purchasing their tickets, they wait in line for around two minutes until one of the round red cabins comes to a slow stop in front of them. The three friends inside get off, then Atsumu and Sakusa are assisted by one of the personnel who quickly reminds them of standard safety precautions. Once inside, they sit across from each other and just a few seconds later, their cabin starts its ascent as the ferris wheel slowly turns.
They climb higher and higher and as they do, they see more of the stunning cityscape and the firefly-like glow from buildings and the different vehicles from below.
“I never knew Osaka could be so pretty at night,” Atsumu murmurs as he peers out the window. “You think we can see the dorm from here?”
Sakusa, thoroughly smitten by how the lights are bouncing off the browns of Atsumu’s eyes, just shakes his head. “I think it’s too far away.”
Atsumu hums. “Guess so.”
They fall silent after a while and as usual, it’s the kind of silence that doesn’t make Sakusa’s mind go through marathons or causes him to start feeling like the air is too thick and heavy for his lungs. Instead, it’s the kind of silence of when he was eight and was on his school camping trip where he had for the first time just witnessed a massive blanket of stars against a deep dark backdrop. An incredible stillness that reminded Sakusa of the existence of such grand things in the universe and how one of the best ways to relish them is by just letting yourself be.
Where we could just do nothing and it would feel all kinds of right.
And Sakusa feels it here with Atsumu. And he feels a lot of it.
***
The taxi drops them off outside their dormitory building. Atsumu then takes a quick glance at his phone and he notices that it’s only a little after nine.
“Hey, it’s still kinda early,” Atsumu says. “Wanna go watch a game?”
Sakusa doesn’t answer him and instead Atsumu notices without fail the familiar shift of his arm--subtle, but unmistakable as he catches on right away and his eyes drift downwards to see Sakusa’s left hand already circling his right wrist.
“You okay?”
“I-there’s something I wanted to ask you actually,” Sakusa tells him.
The unmistakable display of nerves has concern gradually building up somewhere inside Atsumu. “Sure, go ahead.”
“How do you feel about moving in together?”
It takes a few seconds for the words to register, and when it does, Atsumu could sense his eyes widen. And as he lets every word, every enunciated syllable continue to swish and churn in his head, his mind doesn’t scramble for a response because instead what it does is go through a rough play by play of that night in Amagasaki when Osamu had poked fun at him, of the dream that had felt like a warning, of him on the bus unintentionally eavesdropping on two strangers.
That means he wants more privacy.
Isn’t that a big reason why people move in together?
Why are you so embarrassed? It's just sex.
It's just sex.
“I don’t think I’m ready to have sex,” Atsumu blurts out.
“What?”
“I-I said--”
Sakusa puts a hand up. “I heard what you said, it’s just...what the hell does that have to do with my question?”
Atsumu swallows hard. “I-isn’t that why you’re thinking about moving in together?”
“What?!” Sakusa nearly yells. “What would even make you assume that, Atsumu?”
“Omi--”
“Is that what you think of me?” Sakusa says it in a way that sounds like he’s rinsing his mouth out of something gross--like he's upset at Atsumu but most of all at himself. “You think I’m dating you because I want to fuck you?”
Atsumu wants to cry. “Omi ple--”
“I don’t want to talk anymore,” Sakusa pronounces with a firmness that almost conceals the quiver in his voice, but Atsumu still hears it even from behind his face mask.
And Sakusa is already walking past him when Atsumu instinctively reaches out to grab the sleeve of his jacket. “Omi-kun wait--!”
“Don’t touch me.”
Atsumu lets go like he’s just been burned.
***
He initially attempts to deny it, and quite frankly, Atsumu’s more than willing to continue denying it for as long as it would take. But there’s still some part of him--an unfaltering part--that factors in the risk, reminding Atsumu that there’s just too much to lose if he continues to look away and reject the truth that they had just fought.
Strangely enough, he doesn't immediately turn on the waterworks once he's tucked inside his room. He assumes it’s the shock and that it’s essentially preventing everything from fully sinking into every last bit of his mental faculties. And so what lingers is confusion and an indescribable sense of anger which he directs at almost everyone --his too nosy teammates, his asshole of a sibling, the depraved loser who had invented pornography, those two strangers on the bus. Himself .
Soon enough, anger turns into panic which easily shapeshifts into desperation. He fumbles for his phone then goes through his contacts, swallowing his pride one last time before he calls the only person he knows that could help him.
As Atsumu expected, the line is answered from the other end only after a decent number of rings.
“Hello?” greets an exasperated tone.
“‘Samu?”
His twin only laughs in mocking disbelief. “Wow you got some fucking nerve calling me after you snitched. I’m hanging up.”
“I lied!”
A beat of silence.
“I didn’t tell mom, ‘Samu. I only texted that to mess with you,” Atsumu admits.
“Yeah, I’m hangi--.”
“I messed up, ‘Samu.”
It’s suddenly quiet on the other end, but relief blooms in Atsumu’s chest when he catches the sound of an exhaled breath.
“What did you do?”
The question is as neutral in intonation as it could possibly get, yet Atsumu’s mind translates it to an accusation--one which he has no intention of denying.
“We had a fight.”
It’s so different when the words finally leave his mouth. So different when it was just a hidden thought taking up space in some corner of his mind, but because Atsumu finally says it out loud, the declaration becomes an anchor that pulls down everything that had refused to sink in earlier.
And does it truly sink in.
“Are you…actually crying, ‘Tsumu?”
“No,” Atsumu lies, pathetically sniffling afterwards.
Osamu sighs. “Listen, I already have a feeling you don’t want to give me all the details and honestly, I don’t care. But my only advice is...you guys shouldn’t go to bed mad. Just...don’t let that happen, ‘Tsumu.”
Atsumu sucks in a breath, successfully releasing it after without a sob. “What should I do, 'Samu?”
“Talk to him? I don’t know.”
He nods even though he's aware that his twin can’t even see him. Atsumu thinks about wrapping up the call, but he hangs back for a moment.
“Was this what you did back then? Back when you used to date Suna?”
And his twin laughs again, but this time Atsumu makes out the bitterness in his voice.
“What do you think, 'Tsumu?”
***
Sakusa has never felt anything like this before. A sickly sensation of something repulsive and indiscernible clinging on to every square inch of his skin--something that feels simultaneously apparent and invisible. Either way, Sakusa is beyond certain that it's on him. Or in him. So he blasts himself with hot water in hopes that the searing stream could kill it. Because maybe--just maybe--after it's all over, he can feel clean again.
His attempts prove futile in the end, however, as he only emerges dizzy from the heat, scrubbed raw until his pale skin has been tainted pink. The feeling still remains, almost akin to frustration as it twists and coils in his chest. In the end, the overwhelming ambiguity of it all results in an inexplicable need to lie down.
After dressing himself, Sakusa makes his way to his bedroom where, upon easing the door open, he finds someone he's not quite sure he's consoled to see or if he wants to viciously uproot him from where he's standing in the middle of his room.
"Hi, Omi-kun."
He looks at Atsumu, this person who is ironically as intricately foolhardy on court as he is unwittingly simple off court. Yet the paradoxes of his being has never once deterred Sakusa from wanting to know more and consequently from wanting to be more.
Sakusa also doesn’t deny how wading into the pools of his newfound experiences with Atsumu has been exhilarating even at its most modest, but at times it's also been quite perilous. Without warning, dips would appear, causing him-- them --to stumble. And right now, Sakusa's not finding it easy to get back up.
"What do you want, Atsumu?"
“I want to apologize,” Atsumu tells him, so clearly apprehensive that it reminds Sakusa of the oddities of his character. Guarded yet so transparent. Prideful yet clumsy. Just a living, breathing mass of endearing contradictions one after the other.
“And I also want to explain myself because I think I owe you that much at least.”
Sakusa holds Atsumu’s gaze steady as he crosses his arms. “Go ahead then.”
Atsumu clears his throat.
You’ve run this through your head at least a dozen times by now. Don’t choke.
“I’ve never really thought about it before,” he begins. “The whole ‘sex’ situation, I mean. But then, it’s like...it’s just there all of a sudden, you know? Like a lot, and just... everywhere ?”
He pauses and tries to gauge Sakusa’s expression which is barely readable at best. So Atsumu forges on, resolve unwavering. But the few nerves that manage to trickle out zaps out any ability to be coherent and in usual Atsumu fashion, he starts to ramble.
“And I’ve never done it before and I just don’t want it to be horrible especially for you because it’s not like it’s the cleanest thing to do either and--”
“Atsumu,” Sakusa interrupts. “You don’t have to say anything more.”
Still, Atsumu struggles to discern what Sakusa could possibly be feeling or thinking for that matter, but even with the blank stare he’s giving him, Atsumu can’t help but suppose that Sakusa’s not entirely pleased with the string of words he had sloppily strewn together in his sad and admittedly desperate attempt to make peace.
He probably thinks I’m an idiot.
“First of all,” Sakusa says. “We don’t have to do anything that makes either of us uncomfortable in any way.”
Hearing such a matter-of-fact statement leads to an averted gaze and Atsumu is ashamed that it had to really come to this and he feels so small and helpless and--
“Secondly, I just thought about the idea of moving in because...well, because when I feel like shit, you don’t exactly try to cheer me up right away.”
Is he dissing me?
“Because you’re so bad with words and you ramble when you get anxious.”
He is definitely dissing me.
“But nevertheless, they all feel right to me, Atsumu.”
In that instant, everything falls into place. Puzzle pieces tumbling out onto the board and slotting perfectly together to form the bigger picture. Because while Atsumu was too preoccupied with reaching for the ideal--reaching to be the ideal--he had failed to recognize that just like volleyball, dating is also a team effort, and that he didn’t have to exert himself as if everything had to rely only on his end.
Perhaps it was years of being perceived as unlikable that had Atsumu naturally going the extra mile, but now it’s so clear to him that things are different. Because how could he be unlikable when Sakusa Kiyoomi has time and time again expressed his adoration for him in more ways than one?
The overflow of realizations distracts him enough so he doesn’t notice the way Sakusa has not only closed the figurative distance between them, but also the literal one as he is wrapped up in an embrace.
“I’m so sorry, Omi-kun,” he speaks against his boyfriend’s clothed shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Sakusa says. “I shouldn’t have also asked so casually like that.”
Atsumu then pulls away slightly and as he looks at Sakusa, he makes sure to sear in his mind the tenderness in his too dark eyes, their softened corners, and the small smile that’s so easy to miss if only Atsumu wasn’t so privileged to always be close enough to capture it on time.
“I’m so glad that you like me, Omi-kun.”
And the smile widens. “Likewise, Atsumu.”
***
Christmas eve rolls around, but as everyone else in the Black Jackals dorm has prepared to go out on dates or family time, Sakusa and Atsumu have put on their much thicker track jackets and their running shoes to go out for their usual evening jog.
The park, drenched with lights and other Christmas accents, looks positively festive. Sakusa personally doesn’t care much for the holidays, but every now and then he would appreciate just the slightest shift in mood in the air, and even though it’s fleeting, there’s a strange charm in seeing how people’s spirits seem to be lifted due to what a single holiday connotes. Perhaps this is what happens when people put their hopes in something far bigger than themselves, and to some extent, Sakusa is beginning to understand it.
After one round, they slow down to a walk, catching their breaths without saying a word. Eventually, Atsumu is the first one to cut through the silence.
“Hey let’s go over there for a bit,” Atsumu points to that hidden spot where they had talked just a month back.
Sakusa obliges and they’re stepping over the thicket of bushes until it’s just them and that same park bench and that same inoperable vending machine.
“What are we doing here again?” Sakusa asks.
Atsumu smiles at him. “I’m here to give you your Christmas present!”
“And this couldn’t wait until later why?”
“Geez just go along with it, Omi-kun,” Atsumu pushes. “Now close your eyes and don’t peek.”
Sakusa sighs then he flutters his eyelids shut. “I swear Atsumu if this is a prank…”
“You talk too much. Just be quiet, okay?”
He then hears the shuffling of feet and suddenly it’s silent. Suspiciously so. Then his face mask is pulled down to his chin and before Sakusa could even open his mouth to speak, he feels something against it and his eyes fly open to see Atsumu already kissing him.
The kiss, however, is chaste and Atsumu pulls away far too soon for Sakusa’s liking.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Atsumu says, his mouth curling up playfully. “Be the one to kiss you first, that is.”
Sakusa doesn’t resist the urge to laugh. “So this is your present?”
“Well actually...” and Atsumu’s pulling out something rectangular from inside his jacket. Upon closer inspection, Sakusa sees that it’s been recklessly wrapped and it doesn’t help that the present has been tucked inside Atsumu’s jacket the entire duration of their jog.
Atsumu offers it to him. “Merry Christmas, Omi-kun.”
He takes it from him, uncertain as to what it could possibly be.
“Open it,” Atsumu says.
And he does, tearing carefully along the edges and folding back the gaudy wrapping paper until all he sees are--
“Brochures?”
And Atsumu is giving him a smile he’s seen a dozen times over, but the effect is consistent across all circumstances--a hitch in his throat, a flutter in his stomach, a desire to believe.
“Wanna go apartment hunting after the new year?”
Sakusa, thoroughly speechless, could only nod his head.