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Ten.
Everyone’s shouting and, personally, Atsumu doesn’t get the point. Why announce it to the world? It’s not as if counting down each second made a difference in the grand scheme of things, the digits on the clock would change just the same. But nothing would change overnight. Atsumu sees the appeal, understands it in theory, but when it comes to execution.. It isn't his favorite holiday.
Nine.
Yes, he much rather preferred the small festivals in Hyōgo. Atsumu missed the fireworks lighting up the sky, the festival foods Osamu loved so much, warm lighting that accompanied the quiet talk between friends and family, all donning more traditional clothing. Now? He was still a little out of his element, thrown into a sea of teammates, family, and friends all cheering, a little tipsy and very merry, as the new year quickly approached. Turning to make a remark to his partner and oh—
He's counting too. But the with way his eyes light up, the crinkle of his eyes and scrunch of his nose as he cheers loudly alongside the others. Suddenly it isn’t so bad. Shouyou’s smiling, so happy, and he laughs which hiccups his words all clumsily in a way that makes Atsumu short circuit. No, maybe this isn’t that bad. Atsumu can make out the mess of ginger hair illuminating under the lights. With each movement his hair swayed, vibrant and unpredictable that resembled a flickering flame. Shouyou ignited something within Atsumu. His eyes have to adjust, focusing on the source of light. They focus on him . Nothing else matters.
Eight. Seven.
Well. He looks ethereal. No sense in dodging the obvious, right? Atsumu has always been a straightforward guy — honest and determined. Even if that meant being perceived as self regarding, self seeking, and self serving ( and maybe he was, just a little bit). A lotta people had an issue with it, for some reason, but he never cared. It didn’t matter. It really didn’t, especially when he’s never been more certain on something — rather, someone — in his entire life.
But then he showed up, leaving his life in shambles in the best way possible. The rush of adrenaline, the pounding of his heart, the flutter in his stomach — all unfamiliar things to Atsumu. But, oh man , how he craved it.
Six... five.. four.
Atsumu watches him, and he knows he’s obvious, he can’t even hide the smug smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth. Hinata Shoyou was a lot of things. but in moments like these, Atsumu could only think of one word. Perfect. The word repeats over and over again — a mantra, a prayer for the sun. His sun.
Three.
Brown eyes meet his own. Caught red handed, but Atsumu could care less. That warm, fluttery feeling swells in his abdomen and — hell , he feels like he’s in high school all over again. By the time people are cheering out, “Two!” , a hand grabs his, fingers threading together as if it were second nature. Wasn’t it, at this point? Vaguely, Atsumu thinks back to his second year, watching the boy for the first time. He's always had this natural charm, hasn’t he?
A kiss.
Past the warmth spreading throughout his body, a soft hum buzzing in his ears, Atsumu can hear the cheers in celebration. One. Maybe it would’ve gotten under his skin, the way everyone seemed to push and bump into one another. No one could help it — they were probably wasted anyways. but the two of them stayed together, fully conscious and well sober. And it felt as if the two were in their own world, this was their moment.
Hinata's warm - oh, how fitting - hands cupped his face, keeping Atsumu’s attention on him. As if it’d go anywhere else. Atsumu felt his heart swell at the feeling of Shouyou’s thumb tenderly caressing his cheekbone. It was the little things that did him in. Atsumu’s hands rested on Shou’s hips, thumbs stroking at his sides affectionately in return. This was second nature to them. The two of them melted into one another’s touch so quickly. When had the two of them become one? It didn’t matter. The two stayed together like that, basking in the glow of a new year.
“Happy New Year, Atsumu-san.”
A new year together.
———
Atsumu’s ears are ringing. Everything feels numb. He can barely process what he’s doing. Atsumu feels his throat go sore and he’s pushed back, a door closing in front of him.
When Atsumu wakes up, he’s in a dimly lit waiting room. His nose scrunches up. These places always smell like sanitized old people. Hates ‘em, he really does. Why is he here? Atsumu gets up and makes his way over to the receptionist -- a pretty little thing who looks just as lost as he feels. She quickly perks up when she sees him, almost frightened. There was a look in her eyes that Atsumu hated. Pity. “Miya Atsumu? I’ll let the doctor know right away. Just a moment.”
The next few moments are a blur. The doctor’s leading Atsumu, walking so quickly that he has to catch up and keep up with him. The doctor is talking to him, Atsumu realizes, and tries to pick up what he’s saying. Pieces begin to fit together, a recollection. “We don’t think he will make it..” He feels sick to his stomach. “I’m terribly sorry..” Atsumu wants to shut him up, make him stop. “He’s barely..” His heart drops, nearly losing his footing. Atsumu doesn’t need to hear anymore.
Now Atsumu remembers. The panicked call from Bokuto, rushing to the hospital, trying to fight off the doctors that were keeping him away from Shouyou. Shouyou. He needs to see him.
The doctor lets him in Shouyou’s room, and a lump forms in Atsumu’s throat. Shouyou looks pale, his eyes closed as he breathes slowly. Atsumu can’t bring himself to try and dissect each bruise, bandage, and IV. But he does so anyway. For the following eight hours, Atsumu stays at Shouyou’s side. The nurses filled him in, what put Shouyou in such a state. A drunk driver. A crash. They explain the major wounds that were inflicted on his body. Atsumu feels hopeless, his world caving in on him, but he holds onto Shouyou’s hand and offers encouragement. “C’mon Shou.” “You can do it.” “ Wake up, baby.” His hand is limp in Atsumu’s hold, but he doesn't mind, his thumb continues to stroke the back of Shouyou’s hand gently.
Shouyou’s eyes were closed, anyone else would think he looked peaceful, but Atsumu takes note. He thinks back to early mornings with Shou, the rare occasions Atsumu would wake first, the sunlights rays holding Shouyou in a gentle halo. He looked so angelic, Atsumu would think while idly twirling the small curls that stuck out from Shou’s bedhead between his fingers. Shouyou smiled when he slept. Atsumu hoped they would get out of here soon, Shouyou back to him and in his arms and safe .
Atsumu’s eyes now bore into Shouyou’s figure. The lighting made him look paler than he already was from blood loss. He used to be so warm. For the first time, Shouyou was not smiling in his sleep. He couldn’t blame him. Shouyou was all wrapped up and propped uncomfortably, stuck in some stuffy room, unconscious while being operated on. It made anger twist inside of him, how they just had Shouyou laying here like some variable for a dissection lab, it took everything in him to not grab the doctor and give it to ‘em. Yell at him to get in here, do his job, and help Shouyou. Atsumu knows he’s being ridiculous. Knows how hard they’re trying. He’s seen it.
Atsumu prays and pleas, to whatever being or deity or god is out there. Fuck, he even prays to the vitals monitor that he can’t look away from. Anything. Please don’t take him from me. Please. I know I ain’t a saint, but he is. You can’t take him. He’s done nothing.
Not even an hour later a drawn out ringing breaks the silence between them. Atsumu swears he feels his heart stop with Shouyou’s — except he’s alive. He panics, bringing Shouyou's hand to his lips as he presses kiss after kiss. “Please.” Atsumu watched Shouyou, with pleading and wide eyes. The ringing never stopped. It was as if he were being punished, his prayers answered only to be mocked and spit on. But why, why, why . Why Shouyou. Atsumu stares at the monitor — he prays again. Hopes it’s just some twisted prank. That maybe his pulse will just pick up again. People are flooding the room. Once again, he’s peeled away from Shouyou. Atsumu shouts and tries to see him again, just once more, please, he needs to say goodbye, please.
Their year is cut short. His world has gone dark. Hinata Shouyou is taken from him too soon.
———
Memories can be a painful thing. This is something Atsumu has begun to learn time and time again. For as long as he’s been alive Atsumu has let memories come and go just as moments do. No sense in holdin’ onto ‘em. But for a while, when he was in his life, he granted himself the pleasure of holding onto memories. Indulging on the moments, happy, warm, and bright. Everything that was him. And it had become a new normal. Atsumu grumbles to himself and runs a hand through his hair.
It wasn’t as if Shouyou wasn’t in his life anymore. He was. Despite wishing away the memories that just won’t leave, Atsumu can’t let go. And maybe that was the most painful part. Atsumu couldn’t even try to rid himself of the memories, something he had learned to do long ago, because every day they came back. They captivated him. He didn’t want to forget. Even though some days they pissed him off, reminding him what he no longer had. Other days they just shut him down, heart full of regret, wishing that, just maybe, he could’ve done something.
But no matter what, Shouyou isn’t coming back. Everyone keeps telling him it’s okay to feel the way he does, that he needs to let it out. The sentiment just makes Atsumu scoff, a sharp and bitter sound. How could he? Why should he linger on memories? He can’t do anything to bring Shouyou back to him. Nothing can change what has already been done. His mind wanders, wondering if maybe Shouyou is also wishing Atsumu had done more. It hurts.
Nights without Shouyou are the hardest, for a while. He can't fall asleep. Instead Atsumu lays there, an arm draped over what used to be Shouyou’s side. The sheets which used to carry the warmth of him have long since gone cold. Some nights he holds Shouyou’s pillow close to him. It’s cold and frail, things that weren't Shouyou, but it smelt like him. Atsumu stares, unable to hold the pillow tonight out of fear, and instead tries to hold onto the image of Shouyou sleeping beside him. “G’night Atsumu.” A hand would cup his cheek, brown eyes peering into his own. A burst of warmth would spread where a soft kiss was placed on Atsumu’s neck. The room is cold. Atsumu cries into the early hours of night, a tall child wishing for things that were now impossible.
Mornings were lonesome. The Sun couldn’t replicate Shouyou’s presence. No. Not even close. The space next to him was still painfully empty. There was no good morning kiss, moments that turned into something more, the two of them basking in each other's presence and the morning Sun. Atsumu made coffee for one. Brushed his teeth alone. Left for work on his own, and returned to an empty apartment. Of course, he adjusted to it. It became a new normal for Atsumu. But it made his stomach twist, a feeling of guilt. How could things be normal without Shouyou?
His lockscreen was still a picture of them. It was taken on Christmas, back when Atsumu had first met Shoyou’s entire extended family. He saw no point in changing it. No one else pushed either, though he noticed the way Osamu's brows knitted together just slightly upon noticing. Atsumu stared at his phone just a moment longer than necessary. Shoyou looked so alive , cheeks and nose dusted a bright red from the cold weather, his eyes twinkling with joy, reflecting the glittering lights that had surrounded them. Hinata's bright smile caused his chest to swell, but it was no longer the light, fluttery feeling that he craved. He was grieving. It was killing him.
———
Atsumu has never been a huge fan of holidays. Especially Valentines. Growing up, it was just annoying. Osamu and Aran always got on him about it. Going on about how he was “ungrateful” and all that. Part of Atsumu wishes he could say Osamu was just jealous, but he was never the more popular of the two in school. He knew that this year it would hurt for different reasons, and had mentally prepared himself. Rather, he tried to mentally prepare himself. He only looked forward - like really looked forward - to holidays spent with Shouyou. Atsumu could care less about the happy couples he passed on his way home; exchanging gifts, hugs, and kisses. Good for them. His focus lies elsewhere.
At his core, Hinata was always quite the sap. Even in moments that weren’t intentional. The both of them were pretty tacky when it came to one another, but Hinata was always on top of holidays. Last Valentines, they had tried making chocolates together. Only Shouyou had proved somewhat successful. Shou was a good cook. But it was late and the pair were exhausted, which led to simply making out against the counter while the chocolates cooled. The thought makes Atsumu exhale, a fond sounding-laugh. But the more he dwells on it, the more choked the noise grows. So Atsumu decides to take in a deep inhale, run a hand through his hair, and continue back to his apartment.
Osamu had made him some food, a quiet pity offering of sympathy. “Ya look like shit,” Osamu scolded, but there was no genuine snide. Atsumu and him both knew he was more concerned than annoyed. The two would rarely comment on this and preferred to show through their actions, “Make sure yer eatin’.” It was greatly appreciated. Atsumu looked through the bag and felt just a little teary. Osamu had taken the time to put together his favorites. A rarity nowadays, with both of them being busy. But before he could eat, the blonde had plans with someone else. Atsumu left the bag on his counter, along with the keys he haphazardly threw on there as well.
In their closet, Atsumu had stored things that Shouyou gave him throughout the years. He pulled out the box and looked inside. Love letters, sticky notes, stuffed animals, pictures. A few of Shouyou’s favorite shirts were tossed in there. Atsumu pulled out a shirt and held it to his nose. He inhaled. And held it. It smelt like him. Atsumu took in a few deep breaths before carefully folding the shirt and placing it back in the box. He can do this. He pulled out a note next. For a moment Atsumu just looked at the note, the handwriting and scribbles that covered up simple spelling errors. A smile tugged at his lips, the thought endearing and so Shouyou. He skimmed the letter. It was full of praises, promises, and plans for the future. A line that stuck out to him had Atsumu’s breath catching in his throat, vision blurring with tears.
‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Please continue to set for me, no matter what!!’
“ Fuck,” he lets out a shaky breath, “I can’t do this. I’m not ready. I’m so sorry Shou. Wait a little while longer, ‘kay? Soon.” The air was so heavy. He had to get out of here. It was unbearable. But still, Atsumu sat, as if a reply would come. Despite everything suffocating him — the memories, his smell, his touch — he waited. “Why are you sorry? Of course I forgive you Atsumu-san!” A wrecked sob left his body, emotions he didn't know were building began to overflow. Was that even his voice? Was that what he sounded like? Atsumu never wanted to forget it. Please, he just wants to hear his voice one more time. A laugh, a cheer, even a yell. Anything. Tears fell onto the paper, soiling some of the ink.
———
Atsumu’s face is buried in his hands, he doesn't know if it’s guilt or embarrassment that’s making him shy away from Shouyou. “Why are you sorry? Of course I forgive you Atsumu-san!”
Shouyou. Sweet, warm, radiant Shouyou. He deserved better, didn't he? Better than him.
“Don’t talk like that..! No one will ever come close to you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Please look at me? I love you for you. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”
Atsumu looked up. Shouyou stared at him with an intense gaze. Taking a deep breath, Atsumu grabbed Shouyou by the back of his neck to pull him in. The two kissed — softly, tenderly. Hinata’s warm hands came up to cup Atsumu’s face.
When they pulled away, they remained close enough so their foreheads were touching and eyes never leaving the others. “I love you.”
———
It’s his birthday. Can it be called that anymore ? Atsumu decides not to dwell on the thought, it’ll only upset him. It’s his birthday, and like hell would Atsumu not treat it as such. He's sure this event will be heavy enough. It was the first time in months that Atsumu would see all of Shoyou’s family and friends, since his celebration of life. He's paid Shou’s mother and sister a few visits, whenever he had the time. They’re good people. All of them, they deserved better, he thinks. His mother didn’t deserve to lose her son before he hit thirty, his sister didn’t deserve to experience this grief, and Shouyou. Hinata Shouyou didn’t deserve to be dead.
Luckily, the Hinata family are as bright as he was. Of course he had to get it from somewhere. Everyone is so positive, so happy to celebrate the life of someone who was well worth celebrating. There’s tears, soft weeping and consoling as they chuckle and converse over memories. Shouyou's mother has set up pictures; from his birth until he was twenty five. Atsumu has seen them all before. There’s not one picture where Shouyou isn’t smiling. It pulls at his heart.
Twenty six. The wax numbers sit atop of the small cake, tacky little candles he knows Shouyou would’ve loved. And maybe that’s what does it in for Atsumu. Shouyou was so tacky with holidays, he laments fondly, and birthdays were no exception. No matter what, Shouyou always made sure to make a wish on some cheap candles he picked up last minute. Now, Atsumu stared at the little cake. Singing voices sounded muffled, and his peripheral vision went blurry. Maybe it’s the wax. It melted so slow. The wax twenty-six was still completely unphased. And Shouyou will be twenty five forever. It wasn’t fair. He still had so much left in him. So much to offer the world. He wasn’t some cheap candle, he was a wildfire. Powerful, bright, bursting with energy. But he isn’t here.
A smaller figure bumped into his. Atsumu then realized the tears forming in his eyes and threatening to streak down his cheeks. He blinked through a few. Natsu leaned against his side, silent. The two had always gotten along, from the moment Shouyou had introduced them. The two have bonded more, thanks to Atsumu’s visits. He can remember the first time he visited since Shouyou’s passing. He had to leave early. Curse them both for having identical siblings, Atsumu had thought. Shit luck, it’s like they’ll live on even past memories. Unlike himself, though, Shouyou had a pretty amazing sister. He can tell she looked up to him a lot. Nastu would keep his spirit alive in ways that memories can’t.
The two silently stood next to one another, taking comfort in the fact that they weren’t alone. They watched the candle blow out. The twenty-six remained.
———
The two had barely made it inside, Shouyou pressing against Atsumu, hands gripping at his collar, trailing kisses up his neck and jaw. Atsumu rushed to unlock the door, but it was hard to stay focused with a pressure wedged between his thighs. The second the door unlocked, Atsumu was up against it, dropping bags containing the gifts Shouyou had received all day- but it seemed Shouyou still had more in mind. Their apartment was dark but Shouyou was glowing. Atsumu felt heat rise in his lower abdomen, the two of them rutting against each other pathetically. "Shit, Shou, it's your birthday. Lemme-"
"No," Shouyou replied, his voice breathy, "This is fine. Is this fine?" The two finally pulled away, just enough so Atsumu could make out Shouyou's expression. He was smiling, a bit bashfully, as if they weren't just about to get it on in the middle of their apartment complex.
"Yeah, fuck yeah, you're great. But shouldn't I be treatin' you?" Atsumu chuckled, bringing a hand up to thread his fingers through the messy hair at the back of Shouyou's neck. Shouyou leaned into the touch, a sigh leaving him. The tension in the air had dissipated and left them with a new urgency to get to their bedroom. Shouyou straddled Atsumu, he had him spread out on the bed under him, his bright hair framing his face in a way that left Atsumu in awe. His hands ran up and down Shouyou's tan skin which brought out more sighs. Atsumu worshiped him, a reverence only reserved for Shouyou.
Shouyou had an unabashed confidence, in his movements, his noises, his touches. He was divine. Atsumu wanted everything Shouyou had to offer, drink them in and savor the feeling, let Shouyou map his body, and Atsumu map his; devotion. A hand pressed at him, Shouyou grinned up at him from in between his thighs.
Scattered light gave Shouyou's body a gentle glow the next morning. Atsumu thought he looked beautiful, even through the mess of limbs tangled in sheets, and drool on his pillow.
———
12:00am, October 5th.
Atsumu stared at the ceiling. The bed felt cold, and air dense. He didn’t feel a year older. What he did feel was the way his stomach sank at the memories of his last birthday. A realization hit Atsumu, a chord striking in his chest. Was he stuck? Did a part of him die with Shouyou? Atsumu suddenly let out a sharp and frustrated groan, wishing his mind would let him breathe. Tossing and turning in bed, he couldn’t even bring himself to check his phone. There was no reason to. Osamu would call him. Bokuto wouldn’t realize it was his birthday until tomorrow. Omi-kun would send a text in the morning (a curt little “Happy birthday” that Atsumu had grown to look forward to). And Shouyou--
Shouyou. Why would he text? He can't. He's gone. And the thought makes Atsumu’s eyes close tightly with a sharp intake of air, as if bracing for impact. Of course nothing ever hits. This feeling has been here, an ever present weight on his chest. The memories of Hinata Shouyou linger like a ghost. God, he misses Shou. Misses the way he would stay up til midnight just to give him a birthday kiss, a cupcake with a flimsy little candle, the way he insisted Atsumu make a wish. “I ain't five, Shou.” “I know you make wishes anyways. Blow it out!” What he would do to have that birthday kiss, that cupcake. Just one one more time. Atsumu can’t remember if he ever did wish on those candles. He knows, now, what it is that he would wish for.
It wasn’t fair. No, not fair at all. It was quite shit, actually, that Atsumu had to age. Atsumu had never minded birthdays, aging was just a part of life. But now he had to age, alone , and Hinata Shouyou will never be able to make another wish.
———
“ ‘Tsumu! Happy birthday!”
“Hn?”, Atsumu eyes the small box in Shouyou’s hands, but quickly his eyes widened, moment feeling almost too real, “Shou - Fuck, I mean --”
“Wait, wait, wait! It’s not what it looks like! Well — not yet, at least, “ Hinata’s fingers stumble, and Atsumu’s breath hitches, “They’re promise rings. You know what those are, right?” Shouyou looks up at Atsumu with a teasing glint in his eye, temporarily crashing what should be a romantic moment. Shou knows exactly what he’s doing. And it works.
“Wh - ‘Course I do, ya jerk..!” But realization settled in, and Atsumu’s demeanor softened, “Oh, shit.. Shou. I love ya. Um.. are you sure?” Atsumu watches Shouyou closely, expression serious in a way that always made the latter laugh. Atsumu looked like a puppy, leaning forward just a bit. He was whipped.
“More sure than anything in my life.” Shouyou took Atsumu's hand in his own, settling the ring on his finger. He gives Atsumu a moment to marvel at the thin silver band. Then he placed the box containing his own ring in Atsumu’s hand. He peered up expectantly. “I love you too.”
———
For a long time, Atsumu had put off therapy. Call it stubbornness, confusion, pride — any would be applicable. But he caved thanks to a push from his teammates and Osamu. Realistically he should’ve gone sooner. He knows this now. But better later than never, right?
Atsumu came to accept the fact that moving on didn’t mean forgetting Shouyou, and he couldn’t continue serving himself a self-inflicted punishment for the rest of his life. And he knows Shouyou would probably want this for him. To really, finally get his life together and grow. Well, he doesn’t actually know. But knowing Shou, he’d want the best for him. Even if Atsumu is hesitant and doesn’t know if it's the best course of action; like hell he’s not gonna try.
When his therapist had brought up making his memories a home, cherishing the happy moments, Atsumu had a hard time grasping this concept. How could he cherish them? Shouyou is gone and remembering only hurts, what good could they do? But at the same time he can’t let go of Shouyou. He doesn’t want to. Atsumu finds out he’s stuck between a rift of grief; wanting to run away and wanting to chase, claws buried deep within desperation, a wild animal with a thorn lodged in his side, baring his teeth who those who dare to pry it away from him.
Things are a hassle. Atsumu has to give in, tossing whatever grudge aside, and work with his therapist. He learns a lot. Slowly but surely, Atsumu can feel his life pick back up again. Each shard of broken glass is glued together, and each flower placed back in its vase. He goes out more again, aside from work, bothering Osamu at work or getting drinks with friends. His performance picks up again, determined to become the very best once more, for Shou. Atsumu learns that it’s okay to hold onto, need, and want memories, just as he did Shouyou. For each painful memory there’s at least eighty good ones. And so he holds onto those, all of them, treading through the memories that keep him up beyond midnight, only for him to know.
When Atsumu wakes up, his first thought isn’t about the empty space next to him, the coolness of the sheets around him, or the silence of the room - he turns to face a picture of Shouyou propped on his nightstand. He smiles. This one was his favorite. The two had made a plans to spend the day in Shibuya, to visit shops and check out cafes. It wasn’t far by any means, but it was more about the thought. Atsumu remembers how excited Shou had been when they marked the calendar they barely used; two whole weeks in advance. In the picture, Shouyou is wearing baggy clothes and a sad looking hat, forcing his hair to swoop up in little tufts from under the band. It was his “disguise”, he had told Atsumu, wanted to make sure no fans stole him away from their date. It was ridiculous, but it still made his heart swell. In Shouyou's arms he’s holding a giant plush, nearly half his size. Shouyou is trying to copy the expression of the plush — eyes shut with a stupid grin, but Shou’s on the verge of bursting into laughter. From the slight blur of the picture, Atsumu can tell he was laughing too.
This morning feels warm, sunlight draping over Atsumu. “Goodmornin’.”
———
“Does marriage even matter? We’re together now, aren’t we? We have these rings. What difference would some paper make? I’m not gonna let some piece of paper pin me down or somethin’,” Atsumu knew his words sounded harsh. Shouyou wasn’t proposing or anything. He just wanted to hear Atsumu’s thoughts, as considerate and kind as he always was. Atsumu’s body went cold when he met Shouyou’s eyes. He fucked up.
“I’m not forcing you to marry me!” Shouyou’s voice was trembling, but his volume increased, “I’m not forcing you to stay with me! Do you really think that? I just wanted to know how you felt about it. But if you really feel that I’m keeping you, holding you back from living your life, then fucking leave.” Both were saying things they don’t mean, their impulsivity clashing with their rising anger.
But Atsumu, in his anger, wasn’t thinking. And if there was one thing the two of them struggled with, it was backing down.
“Oh yeah? Fine. I’ll fuckin’ leave. You don’t need me,” he sneered, “And I sure as hell don’t need you,” Atsumu barked out a laugh, mocking and patronizing in a way that left Shouyou shaking in anger. Atsumu grabbed his keys, and slammed the door to the apartment behind him. That night he stayed with Kiyoomi. Omi wasn’t kind, calling Atsumu out on his shit. But Atsumu knew. He didn’t need to hear it from anyone else. Atsumu held his knuckles to his lips, a firm line against the cool silver of the band. The scene kept replaying in his mind over and over again. Atsumu was never mad at Shouyou — he was mad at himself.
The next morning Atsumu returned to Shouyou after calling him. When the door opened he was greeted by Shouyou wrapped up in a blanket — and, fuck, Atsumu’s heart broke — with swollen eyes and red cheeks.
Pulling the smaller into his arms, Shouyou let out a shaky breath he was holding. “‘Tsumu. I need you. More than anything,” His voice was weak, trembling and on the verge of tears, “Please know that. We don’ have to get married, I swear. I’m happy as we are.”Atsumu held onto Shouyou tightly, a hand reaching up to stroke the mess of red hair he loved so much. He cooed, shushing the other gently as Shouyou babbled apologies. Why was he apologizing? This was Atsumu’s mess, for not knowing what he wanted. For hating himself so deeply and letting it weaponize. And now he’s hurt the one he loves most dearly. Atsumu knows who he wants. More than anything in the world.
“I’m so sorry, Shou. Please don’t apologize. I love you so, so much. You don’ ever have to forgive me for the things I said. I was stupid, didn’ mean any of it. Yer perfect. I need you, I swear, I couldn’t live a life without ya, Shou,” Atsumu mumbled into Shouyou’s hair. All of it, he meant every single word. Atsumu gently swayed the other in his embrace, a shabby attempt at comfort. Shouyou relishes in it, and Atsumu feels his heart flutter at the familiar feeling of Shouyou pressing against him, face buried in his shoulder.
They would talk. As soon as they went inside, they would. Atsumu wouldn’t let a fuck up like this happen again. He knows what he wants now — and he won’t let himself ruin it. He’s gonna be better. For him, his sun.
But for now, the two hold each other, never wanting to let go.
———
With memories come regrets. Maybe a bit embarrassing for Atsumu to learn in his late twenties, but the realization has hit him at full force and has left his life in pieces. On a night where he caved and called Osamu, his twin said something along the lines of, “If ya regret something, you can learn from it. Memories aren’t all that bad, ‘Tsumu.” It had been over a month ago when he said that, but it still leaves Atsumu with a lot to think about. Damn ‘Samu. Givin' out good advice. Aren’t I older? He let out a huff, breath coming out in a puff of condensation, and shoved his hands in his pockets to warm them up. They were less unbearable now. The memories. Atsumu felt back to himself-- though a part of him would always feel a bit missing. Absentmindedly, Atsumu thumbs the thin band on his ring finger.
Atsumu had once heard somewhere, probably from someone trying to console him when reality was still a blur, that people become angelic figures once they’re gone. You can only remember the good in them. They become less human. Atsumu thinks this is bullshit. Shouyou had always been an angel; even past his impulsiveness, beyond his ability to underestimate things he could not achieve, the elementary-grade level insults he’d toss when he was pissed. Atsumu smiled. He missed it all.
Atsumu looks up and gives the night sky a smile. Memories that once hurt, kept him awake at night and kept him in bed all morning, were now a gift. Hinata Shouyou remains his inspiration, his driving force to keep pushing on. To do better. To be better.
Experiencing grief was messy for Atsumu, not at all as linear as people make it out to be, and it still wrecks him sometimes, quiet sobs into his pillow on nights that are especially dark and lonely, or lashing out at those who just don’t get it .
The rest of the team had been left in a state of shock for a while, too. Atsumu remembers the after their first game following Shouyou’s passing. Bokuto had sobbed, a broken cry of, “We did it for him!,” moving everyone to tears. It had taken Atsumu a while to adjust to changes, no longer with his wing spiker. He had given the new guy a real tough time, too. And Atsumu knew that thousands of other lives mourned his loss. People moved by his determination, passion, optimism - Atsumu could go on.
Hinata Shouyou was the best thing to ever happen to Atsumu. Nothing could ever come close. He holds onto the memories, the remnants of his presence, like his life depended on it. There was no longer confusing, denial, anger, guilt when memories resurfaced. Shouyou was taken too soon from this world, his presence like a leading light through the night. But at only twenty-five, Shou had left behind quite the reputation. Left a mark on the world bigger than he ever was , he mused to himself. Hinata Shouyou never really died. Part of him believes, knows , that Shouyou is with him. It shows. Lessons that Shouyou taught Atsumu, even though unintentional, had now defined his life.
Atsumu wonders; did other people think of Hinata Shouyou as their sun, too?
Pulling away, Shouyou gazed up at Atsumu Miya with hazy eyes — warm and full of pure adoration. Atsumu can remember it — everything — so vividly. The touches, the looks, the sounds. Some that only Atsumu knew of. Things he held onto like his life depended on it, that kept Shouyou with him, even if they were just memories. Things that had become irreplaceable. “Atsumu-san? I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”
Maybe. But he would never be their sun.