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soft, early morning sunlight dances into your shared bedroom, and he wants nothing more than to hold you close in his arms. his hands instinctively dart out of the covers to reach for your form, yet meets nothing but the cold and empty touch of an empty bed. atsumu stirs awake, eyes peeking through his eyelids.
"baby?"
his voice is low and gravelly from sleep, yet is met only by the faint scuffling outside the bedroom. checking the bedside clock, he groans, seeing that he had only a few minutes until his morning jog, and his main excuse for skipping it today was gone. he makes his way to the kitchen, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
the smell of breakfast greets him, as well as the sight of your kind eyes and soft smile. his heart pounds in his chest, as he took you in. clad in nothing but an old university shirt, your prescription glasses, and a pair of frog slippers, you were humming along to an old song on the radio, flipping the pancakes with expertise.
in this moment, he realizes with a jolt how intensely he loves you. what shocks him isn't the realization, not really. loving you was the same thing as breathing to him at this point. and that's what shocks him — how, after years of shutting himself up and piling his walls high, it doesn't come with the same mind numbing fear.
"morning atsumu," you hum, feeling his arms wrap themselves around your torso, his nose gently nuzzling against your neck. reaching over to lower the stove, he spins you around to face him.
"i love you," the faux blond replies, and your heart melts at the pure adoration in his eyes. he had worn that look so many times now it was ingrained in your skull. yet it had the same effect every time.
"i know."
the joint sound of your laughter becomes one with the music, your hands around his neck and his on your waist as you sway to the hum of a love song, promising forevermore.