Archive of Our Own

Sakusa Kiyoomi died on a Wednesday.

If you asked Motoya, he’d recite straight from the script that his therapist had given him years ago— he doesn’t remember much of it because of the trauma, because watching a family member die in front of him took such a toll on him that he blocked the day’s events from his memory. But.

He remembers all of it.

The two of them had shared an apartment for two years, but Motoya had been offered a position working closely with the Foresight Foundation, and Kiyoomi, after being born and raised in Promepolis, was aching to get out of the city center for a breath of fresh air. 

So, they enacted the grand plan of finally moving out, searching for the right places that fit their needs but weren't too far apart, while slowly but surely packing up almost twenty years of memories into cardboard boxes. 

It was scary to him, after being attached at the hip for so long, the idea of being apart. He knew Kiyoomi wouldn't say that he was scared out loud, but it wasn't hard to tell in the way he lingered around Motoya more and more as the day to move got closer. 

The day arrived. 

Motoya rented a rickety moving truck that, despite being Kiyoomi’s worst nightmare, did the exact job they needed it to. Boxes got moved and goodbyes were said, and the door closed shut on two years of Motoya's life that still holds dear now.

And then.

Kiyoomi cursed under his breath. “I left my phone in there.” 

“Really?” Motoya’s already halfway into the driver’s seat of the truck, keys in hand. “I made it all dramatic and everything!”

“And you did great." Kiyoomi commended him, "It’ll be less than five minutes.” He turned and walked away, his figure disappearing behind what used to be their front door.

Motoya thinks that the minutes here, the seconds, are what stick with him the most up until now. What still plays on his repeat in his head up until this day. 

The dashboard clock showed 3:02 PM. It blinked at him, once, twice, five times, until he saw 3:07. The front door hadn't moved. The clock blinked again. He wondered if he should go and check on Kiyoomi. 

In the seconds, the milliseconds between 3:08 and 3:09 PM, Motoya looked back up at the door, and watched it get blown off of its hinges by the pink and blue flames he and everyone else in the city were all too familiar with. 

At 3:36, there was a blanket around his shoulders and the building that was in front of him was almost entirely turned to ash. 

They never found Kiyoomi’s body.

And just like that, four years go by. 

Moyota is 24 now, and Kiyoomi is left at 20, forever. He still works with the Foundation, and he eventually moved into his new apartment with help from his parents and months upon months worth of therapy. 

The phone he keeps mounted on his wall rings on a Wednesday. 

It’s his day off. He’s barely awake and doesn’t want to deal with anyone today, but he’s never liked sorting through his voicemails.

“Hello?” His voice is groggy.

“Is this Motoya?” The voice on the other end is urgent. There’s something about the tone, the way that it echoes in his ear, that scratches at an old scab in his brain.

“Uh, yeah? Why?”

There’s a pause. A breath. 

“It’s Kiyoomi.”

The words, unexpected, make him shut down. If there’s anything said after that, he doesn’t hear it. His brain tunes it out, tunes everything out.

“Hello?”

“No it’s not.” He doesn’t feel real. “You’re dead.”

“Do I sound—” There’s a noise of frustration. It’s familiar. “Do I sound like I’m dead?”

He won’t deny that, now that he's listening closer, it sounds like Kiyoomi. The deadpan, the faint scratchiness, it’s all him, but he doesn’t want to accept it. Can’t accept it. 

“You don’t,” He says despite himself. 

“Okay.” The voice— Kiyoomi says. He stops. “Where do you live right now?”

The racing of his heart freezes, for just a second. 

“What?”

“I’d rather talk in-person. It’s…” Kiyoomi falters. “It’s a long story.”

In-person. Sakusa Kiyoomi, his cousin, best friend, who’s been dead for four years. Whose funeral he still remembers speaking at. Crying at. Face to face. 

“I’m—” His thoughts are scattered. “I’m at the place I planned on moving to. It’s not far from the Foresight building.”

“Fuck. Alright.” There’s shuffling in the background, and Kiyoomi’s voice lowers to a whisper. “I think I remember. I’ll see you in a few.”

Halfway into a response, Motoya’s met with the dial tone. He sighs.  

It still doesn’t make sense to him, the idea that his cousin might have actually been alive this whole time. At least his house is clean enough for him to not disapprove of. He’s still standing with the phone in his hand, and it takes almost all of his energy to sit back down to catch his breath, letting the past five minutes hit him. 

Maybe it’s a prank, somebody with a grudge against the Governor digging into his past to find something to use against him. Maybe it’s—

There’s a knock on the door. 

He stands up and walks over, taking a few deep breaths to steel himself before laying his hand on the handle and slowly creaking open the door.

Sakusa Kiyoomi is standing at his doorstep. 

It hits him now. This is his cousin, real and alive, an arm’s distance away from him, and he looks like shit.

There’s bits of dust caught in his clothes, and he’s skinnier than Motoya remembers, a slightly frantic look in his eyes. Muscle memory kicks in.

“Oh my god—” He motions him inside, closing the door after him. “Are you okay?”

Kiyoomi ignores him. He scans around the space with his eyes, his shoulders tensed. “Do you know if the Foundation has tabs on you?”

Motoya blinks. The abruptness should be familiar, but it still catches him off guard now, four years later. “I don’t think so?” 

“Okay,” Kiyoomi nods to himself. “Don’t react to this, please.”

“Huh?”

Slowly, Kiyoomi turns his palm upwards, holding it slightly away from his chest and staring at it intensely. 

A flame bursts to life.

Atsumu's surprised he isn't dead by now.

Burning Rescue isn’t a career choice designed for people with dreams of living past the age of 30. He spends long and unforgiving hours waging war on living fires, backed up by nothing but a few teammates and long since expired gear.

It's his own personal deathwish, dyed red with the crimes of Promepolis that he gets to clean each day. 

After high school and one too many arguments, he and Osamu decided to go their separate ways. Atsumu headed straight into Burning Rescue alongside some of their former classmates, and Osamu, with less of a taste for danger, had gotten a prestigious internship with Foresight Labs.

Right now, there’s a massive screen sitting on the side of the building that Atsumu’s parked the rescue truck under, and he can see Osamu’s face in the corner, staring down at him as a news report about the lab’s warp engine research plays behind him. He sticks his tongue out at the screen mentally. At least somebody isn’t half a step away from becoming ash today.

Well— at least Atsumu isn’t wasting away underground. It’s a fair trade, he supposes. He can’t see himself doing anything else.

Kita’s voice breaks through his thoughts over his headset. “Atsumu, can you check the layout of the fourteenth floor? I haven’t heard anything from Aran yet and he’s supposed to be up there right now.”

He moves his gaze away from the news report and shoots over a quick affirmative, typing away at the computer in front of him. The team’s vitals seem to be stable, and the heat sensors show that all the fires have passed the peak of their activity. He pulls up a collection of all the security cameras throughout the fourteenth floor, sorting through them until he can find Aran’s mech.

He finds Aran clearly standing in the middle of a hallway, blocked in by rubble on all sides. He has his headset in his hands, banging at the side of it with a frustrated expression.

“Kita,” Atsumu starts, unconsciously tapping the side of his own headset to check the connection. “He’s fine. There’s a bunch of collapsed rubbled on the west side that’s blocking his way. I think it blocked off his communication too, but I can still see him from the cameras.”

He hears Kita breathe out a small sigh of relief before he clears his throat. “Suna, can you go help him out?” There’s a grunt accompanied by the sound of gunshots and ice that echoes in his ear. “I’m a bit occupied here.”

Suna shots something he can’t understand in reply, but he sees his mech jumping up the side of the building from the truck’s window. He pops up again through a camera on his monitor, running and shooting out a few rouge flares before he heads in Aran’s direction.

It’s not often that they get a dispatch request this close to the city center. As one of the smaller Burning Rescue teams, they’re usually sent out to house fires or small Burnish attacks in the further parts of the city.

Today’s an exception.

Staring down the high-rise building, Atsumu’s thankful that they’re one of the more cohesive units in Promepolis. Any other team would probably be overwhelmed by now.

“Should I check overhead to see if there’s anything else?” He asks, interrupting the stillness in his headset. 

There’s a beat before Kita finally speaks. “We should be fine. We didn’t find anything when we scanned the higher floors, but you can check the heat signatures if you want.

“You got it, captain,” Atsumu replies.

He pulls up the heat readings above the fourteenth floor to prove that Kita’s right, finding nothing but residual warmth seeping up from the affected floors.

“Alright,” Atsumu says over the headset, “Once you clear up there, everyone should be good to come back.”

Tapping through the security cameras a final time, he makes sure that there are no civilians left behind, and takes a last glance at the team’s vitals before spinning around and out of his chair to go and open the door of the truck.

Kita’s car is parked directly next to him, and he can just barely see his figure walking out of the building with Suna and Aran in tow. He waves at Atsumu.

Atsumu does a mock salute in return and goes to unlatch a few things on the side of the truck for them to attach their gear to. He feels Aran’s clap him on the shoulder, making him falter slightly as he turns around to face him.

“Not bad, truck boy.” He grins.

“Hey—!” Atsumu goes to defend himself, but Aran doesn’t let him finish.

“I’m kidding,” Aran says, exasperated. “We all did really good with that.” He takes off his helmet tosses it into the truck. “C’mon, let’s head back.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes and hops back into the truck, waiting for Suna and Aran to get in before inputting the directions back to the station. He sees Kita’s car taking off in front of them, hand hanging out the window.

The drive isn’t as short as he’d like it to be because of the further than usual dispatch, but they make it back nonetheless.

Kita’s car is already parked in the corner of the garage, and the light shining through the window of his office is just barely visible. Suna and Aran are out of the truck before they can even come to a full stop, flitting around to put some of their gear back into the lockers.

Atsumu takes a moment of silence to lay his head down on the keyboard. He’s exhausted, yeah, but he’d rather stay at the station and clean up after the day than go home and do nothing.

Taking a deep breath, he pushes his chair back and steps out of the truck door, making a beeline to the side to check over the damage on the attached suits. There’s some bent metal and missing pieces, but it’s nothing he can’t fix before midnight.

He goes to unlatch everything and set them in the right places, waving at Aran as he leaves through the garage in the corner of his eye. He starts to feel a burning gaze on the back of his neck.

Something tells him— no, he knows for a fact that it’s Kita. Maybe if he doesn’t look back he can get out of this.

“Atsumu.”

Fuck.

Atsumu begrudgingly glances back, trying his hardest to feign innocence. He raises an eyebrow as a reply.

“Your brother called.” Atsumu opens his mouth to start to protest, but is quickly cut off. “He wants to make sure you didn’t burn to death. Said you should meet him at the lab.”

Atsumu groans. Overdramatic asshole, making him leave his work behind.

Kita’s staring at him, unimpressed with his arms crossed over his chest. “Ginjima’s about to come in, he can do the minor fixes for you when you come back in the morning.”

It’s a fight he isn’t going to win, so he caves, turning on his heel to march over to his locker and bang it open with a little extra force. He’s not a fan of other people messing with his tech, but he supposes it’s a loss he can take.

He tosses his phone and keys into his jacket pocket and shuts the locker door, sending a weak wave to Kita as he walks out of the garage.

Suna’s already seated comfortably on the back of Atsumu’s motorcycle, scrolling blankly through his phone.

“You know you have your own motorcycle, right?”

Suna doesn’t look up from his phone. “You know I don’t like paying for gas, right?” He parrots, “Plus I know we’re going to the same place.”

Atsumu exhales, sitting down and shoving his keys into the ignition, kicking back the kickstand and trying to take off with as much speed as possible to hopefully shock Suna out of spite or blow off some steam. It doesn’t work.

He saw a tourism ad online once, about how Promepolis looks beautiful at sunset, how the sun peeks through just the right places in between buildings, and if you’re in the perfect spot, you can see it peeking over Fennel Volcano.

It’s not like that at all. The sun, in just the right places, reflects off the glass windows directly into your eyes, making it impossible to drive without nearly hitting a fire hydrant. Fennel Volcano is a grim hill in the distance, and the only truly pretty backdrop in the city is the sun hiding behind the blocky architecture of the Foresight building.

Approaching it now, the sun’s long past the horizon, painting the background of the Foresight building in oranges and yellows. The sight doesn’t do anything to ease his dislike for the structure.

Osamu is leaning against some railing near the bottom of the stairs, caught up in conversation with a few other people in lab coats. His attention snaps over as the sound of his engine gets closer, and Atsumu sees him say a few quick goodbyes to the people he’s with before he starts to head in his direction.

He skids to a stop at the base of the stairs, taking his keys out and standing up to lean his weight against the seat and face Osamu. In the corner of his eye, he can see a guard wrinkling his nose in disgust at the tire marks. He laughs, just barely.

Osamu looks over at the guard, down at the tire marks, and then at Atsumu. He exhales. “I’m coming to your place.” He says in lieu of a greeting.

“Nice to see you too.”

Osamu ignores the reply, walking past him to grab onto Suna’s hand, leading him over to join him back where he was standing. He says something into his ear with a smile and Atsumu lets out a huff of annoyance as Suna laughs.

“I’m not dead, by the way," He blurts in a weak attempt to get the attention back to him. "Thanks for asking.”

Osamu makes a face. “Congrats?” 

“You literally called—!” He cuts himself off with a groan, throwing his leg back over his bike and turning the engine back on. “Whatever, are you riding with me?”

“Nah,” Osamu replies. “I’m gonna go drop Rin off at home, then I gotta talk to you.”

Atsumu cringes at the animosity behind “I gotta talk to you,” and just nods in response. “Sure. See you in a few.”

He’s gone before Osamu can say anything else, making sure to leave some dust on the steps in his wake.

Well. That was a pointless trip.

His apartment is about fifteen minutes away from the Foresight building when he speeds, so he revs his engine and prays that he makes it there before Osamu to get a few moments to calm down after the day. It’s a bit darker now, and he’s grateful for that as he swerves in between the busy traffic.

There’s a parking spot right outside his building that he claims for himself, locking his bike and grabbing anything he needs before he heads up the stairs lining the outside. He fishes for the key to his front door once he gets to his floor, heading down the long hallway before he’s face to face with his number.

He settles inside, hanging up his Burning Rescue jacket by the door and sitting down on the couch to take a few deep breaths. Just before he can close his eyes, there’s a knock on the door. Damn his brother for having an actual, fast car.

When he opens the door, Osamu has a hand shoved into a pocket of his lab coat and the corners of his mouth are slightly turned upwards, like he knew that Atsumu was mentally cursing him for getting there so quickly. He gestures him inside before he can get frustrated about it. 

“So,” Atsumu starts, shutting the door and turning to Osamu. “What the hell do you want from me?”

“Hold on.” Osamu replies, quiet. He scans over the apartment with his eyes before he starts to wander, going to lock the front door and walking to the windows to shut all the blinds. He turns back to Atsumu. “You know how the Governor tracks everyone that works for the Foundation?”

Atsumu nods.

“Well, he’s too dumb to check anything about you guys.”

Atsumu bristles. “Are you insulting Burning Rescue?” He freezes. “Wait— did you fuckin’ break the law?”

“Of course I didn’t!” Osamu replies, defending himself. “I just need your help with somethin’.”

“Am I going to break the law?”

Osamu purses his lips, slowly diverting his eyes. “Maybe.”

“Fuck,” Atsumu rubs a hand down his face. He makes steady eye contact with Osamu. “Well, fess up. Whaddya want from me?”

“Wait.” Osamu inspects the apartment one more time, and his eyes catch on his kitchen table. “Can we sit down?”

“You’re stalling.” Atsumu crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine. You’re making me way too damn nervous.” He leads them into the kitchen, copying Osamu by making sure to close the blinds on the window above the sink. They both take a seat across from each other.

“Okay,” Osamu starts, “I need your help.”

“I figured that part out, dipshit. Get on with the rest of it already.”

Osamu sighs. “I have a friend. Komori Motoya, you mighta met him once or twice. He works in the Governor’s closer staff and…” He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. “His cousin’s a Burnish.”

Atsumu’s lost. “And why does this have anythin’ to do with me?”

“Komori can’t keep him at his place because of the Governor’s tracking. The Burnish needs a new place to stay.”

Slowly, it dawns on him what Osamu’s asking.

Osamu jumps when he notices Atsumu's expression dropping and plows on before he can input anything else. “Look, the guy was sayin’ that Komori was his last resort, and that he can’t survive on his own anymore.” He folds his hands in front of him on the table. “He said he came back to Promepolis to see if there was any hope for him.”

“I’m not fuckin’ housing a firestarter." He mimics Osamu, folding his hands on the table. "Not for a reason that shitty. No way.”

“C’mon,” Desperation is creeping in at the edges of Osamu’s voice. “You’ve been living by yourself since the end of high school. Aren’t you lonely?”

“‘Samu," He leans forward in his seat. "You are asking me to house a fugitive. What does that have to do with me being lonely?”

Osamu runs a hand through his hair. “You’re the only person I know that can do it. You have a spare room, and the Governor doesn’t have an eye on you. Please.”

Atsumu’s tired. “Just 'cause the Governor doesn't watch me doesn't mean I'm safe, do you realize that? Don’t get me involved in your shit.” He tries to put as much finality in his voice as possible.

“If you do just one thing for me—”

Something in him snaps. “I do enough shit for you! Why are you so invested in the life of a single Burnish?” He knows, knows it’s a low blow, but he goes for it anyways. “You watched our family burn at their hands too, did you forget that?”

He’s met with nothing but silence and Osamu’s hard gaze. It's suffocating, the way they stare each other down with heavy breaths.

Osamu rests his head in his hands after a minute. “I know.” He takes a few deep breaths. “There’s just… there’s shit I’ve seen at the Foundation. I feel like I’ve gotta atone for being a part of that.”

The confession strikes something— fear, maybe, in Atsumu. Osamu never talks about what he does in the labs. He’ll tell funny stories here and there, but never anything about the actual work he does. So the fact that he’s admitting this to Atsumu now is…

He tries to match up his breathing to Osamu’s to help him calm down. “Why do I have to be the one to do that for you?” He asks, quiet. Vulnerable.

Osamu looks up at him. “There’s only so much I can do. You know that. Even Komori’s damn lucky that they haven’t figured him out yet.” Atsumu can’t believe he’s getting talked into this.

He still has nightmares about the two of them as kids, their childhood home disintegrating at the hands of pink and blue flames, he and Osamu holding each other tight until somebody came to save them. He’s still scared, deep down.

Burnish are put into handcuffs with the help of his team. They’re put into trucks and sent off to places that he doesn’t think about, with the help of his team. He’s starting to have a sinking feeling that Osamu’s helped with worse.

Most of his life, he’s been the one to watch out for the both of them. It’s a role he naturally falls into, maintaining the balance while taking care of everyone around him. Something about this moment, about this request, feels like it’s built for him. It’s unsettling.

Why does he have to be the one to bear the weight of their sins?

It’s like Osamu can sense him getting lost in his thoughts and jostles his leg with his foot. “Hey.” His eyes are soft. Pleading. God, he’s going to regret this later.

“Fuck. Fine.” Why does he have to be so damn generous all the time? He’s gonna get killed this way one day.

Osamu’s eyes light up and he reaches across the table to grab his shoulders. “Wait— really?” He shakes him a bit. “Like, actually?”

Scratch that, he regrets it now. “Yes—” He wrestles out of the grip. “—but if I get frozen to death that’s on you, asshole.”

“I know.” Osamu’s expression turns cloudy. “I just want to be able to help someone. Do something good. For once.”

“Why can’t you just quit?” Osamu looks up at him. “The labs.”

“I can’t—” He cuts himself off with a long inhale. “We’re so close to a breakthrough, ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu sighs. He wishes that twin-telepathy was a real thing, that he could see into Osamu’s head right now. Maybe if he knew just a fraction of what was going on underground, he could do something. Anything.

He makes a frustrated noise. “Stupid fuckin’ breakthrough, if you ask me.”

“Hey!” Osamu kicks at his leg again, hard. “The hell would you know about what we’re doin’?”

“Enough.” Atsumu replies, decisively.

Osamu pushes his chair back with a huff, standing up. “You suck.” He wanders into the kitchen and starts to dig around in the cabinets. “Do you have anythin’ decent around here?”

Most of his somber mood seems to have eased away, and Atsumu lets out a quiet sigh of relief. “Can’t you steal from your own home?”

“Nah.” Osamu turns around to look back at him, a bag of something in his hands. “Don’t feel like it.”

They fall back into their usual banter for the rest of the night, Osamu busying himself around the kitchen as Atsumu talks his ear off about whatever he can think of. It’s something comfortable for the both of them.

Osamu eventually walks out with a tupperware and a promise to keep him updated about his… new roommate, leaving Atsumu alone to reflect on what he just agreed to.

The buzzing of his phone wakes him up the next morning. He's greeted by a series of texts from an unknown number.

(Unknown) 09:35 AM : when do you get off

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, trying to unblur his vision, and frowns. 

(Unknown) 09:36 AM : oh this is komori

(Unknown) 09:36 AM : motoya

(Unknown) 09:36 AM : your brother gave me your number

Oh. Oh . So last night wasn’t something he dreamed up. Osamu actually talked him into letting a Burnish stay at his house. Huh.

He makes sure to add Komori to his contacts before sitting up in his bed and sending a message in response. 

(Me) 09:47 AM : Midnight

(Komori) 09:48 AM : damn why so late

(Me) 09:48 AM : I’m a firefighter

(Komori) 09:50 AM : oh

(Komori) 09:50 AM : fair

(Komori) 09:55 AM : can you meet me after you get off then

(Me) 09:56 AM : Fine

(Komori) 10:00 AM : cool i’ll send you a location later

(Komori) 10:00 AM : thank you

(Me) 10:03 AM : Ok

He sets his phone down on his nightstand and goes to get ready, throwing on some clothes that he prays won’t make him look bad in Komori’s eyes and finding something quick to eat for breakfast. When he picks up his phone again, there’s no response, so he makes the split-second decision to add something on. 

(Me) 10:27 AM : You’re welcome I guess

He finishes working on one of the newer mechs a bit past midnight, only stopping because of the blaring 12:05 on the clock sitting on the wall above him. He cleans up and says a few quick goodbyes to the people staying at the station overnight before he finally gets to his bike and checks his phone.

There’s a single text from Komori that opens to an unfamiliar location that doesn’t look too far from the station.

It’s barely a five minute ride with his bike, and he can see Komori standing awkwardly on the sidewalk, his head buried in his phone. He parks a bit down the block, approaching slowly as he tries to figure out what to say. 

Komori’s cradling a drink in the hand that isn’t holding his phone, still not noticing Atsumu.

“Wouldn’t happen to have a second one of those, would you?” Atsumu eventually says to announce his presence.

“Oh—” Komori startles. “Hey.” He shoves his phone into his pocket and leans down, picking up another drink off the floor that Atsumu hadn’t realized was there. “I don’t know what you like. It’s just hot chocolate.”

“Huh.” He takes a sip from it. It’s still warm. “Thank you.”

Komori offers him a small smile. “Are you alright with finding a place to sit? I’m kinda tired.”

“Lead the way.” Atsumu motions his hand in front of him.

There’s a bench not much farther down the block that they walk to in silence, and it’s not until they’re both seated and comfortable that Komori starts to talk.

“I’m pretty sure Osamu told you most of it,” He starts, setting his drink down next to him, “But my cousin died four years ago in a house fire.”

He looks over to Atsumu for some sort of reaction, but he just gestures for him to go on. 

“He called me three days ago saying that he was alive, and that he needed some sort of help. I thought it was a joke.” Komori leans back into the bench and focuses his attention on the road in front of them. “When he came to my house, I realized that it wasn’t, and that he was actually alive. And that I was insanely lucky that Foresight didn’t track the call.” He exhales. “It only took two days for them to get suspicious of me though.”

“How?” 

Komori laughs weakly. “I was coming in late for a few days there. A Freeze Force agent was lurking nearby my house yesterday morning.”

“Fuck,” Atsumu says, quiet.

“So here we are.” Komori looks over and smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Here we are.” Atsumu echoes. 

It’s quiet between the two of them, and they both stop to take a few sips out of their drinks, taking in the silence.

“There’s barely anyone in the Foundation that shows any compassion anymore.” Komori speaks up again. “Osamu is the only one who agreed to help.”

Atsumu lets out a small snort. “Of course he did.” Their family always wears their hearts on their sleeves.

There’s a smile. “I’m just glad someone could help.” He looks Atsumu in the eyes. “I’m surprised you agreed.”

“Yeah,” Atsumu shrugs. “I am too.” It’s quiet again.

The moment is broken by Komori starting to walk him through some things that he should buy for the two of them, and the best ways he can avoid any suspicion from the Governor. He explains a few of his cousin’s likes and dislikes, and tells a rouge story or two about the two of them. 

“All of this information is years old,” Komori sighs. It sounds fond. “But it’s better than nothing.” He looks up at the sky. “Just keep him safe. Please.”

It feels like the weight of the world is being set on his shoulders. He’s responsible for a life now. He’s responsible for a life in one of the most dangerous cities for Burnish in the world, and people are putting their trust in him to not fuck it up.

“Yeah,” He looks up with him. The stars are drowned out by the city light. “I will.”

He spends the next few days almost constantly tensed up.

Komori said that he had to get a few things prepared before he’d come over with the Burnish, and Atsumu feels like he’s being watched at every step. Like there’s a Freeze Force agent waiting at every corner to put him in iced handcuffs for agreeing to Osamu’s offer. Like they heard him speaking to Komori the other night, and are waiting to take them out at any moment. 

He keeps secrets damn well, but it only takes an hour for the rest of Burning Rescue to figure him out.

Aran’s sprawled out on their couch, staring at him over his second cup of coffee, his eyes squinted as Atsumu fiddles with a piece of tech that Ginjima mentioned wasn’t working last week. He’s avoiding his gaze.

“Something’s up with you.” Aran eventually says, setting the mug down with extra force.

Atsumu drops the screwdriver in his hand at the sudden accusation. It hits the ground with a clang that echoes through the station, and he takes his time leaning down to pick it up, hoping that Aran would drop the subject in the seconds that it takes him to grab his screwdriver.

He’s still staring him down as he sits up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Aran leans forward in his seat to scrutinize him. “C’mon, you’ve been weird for a few days now and everyone can tell. What’s up?”

Atsumu’s a terrible liar. This is a fact of nature. Aran’s known him longer than anyone else in this room, and if he even thinks about trying to get out of the conversation, Aran will see straight through him. “I can’t—” He stops and tries to sort out his thoughts. How the hell do you explain this?

He moves over to the couch, pushing Aran’s legs aside and sitting down directly next to him. No use beating around the bush. Leaning in, he says, quietly, “‘Samu talked me into housing a Burnish.”

Aran recoils faster than what Atsumu thought was possible. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not!” Atsumu argues.

He’s staring at Atsumu in shock. “You’re telling me that your brother—” He makes a vague frustrated motion with his hands, “—one of the top scientists in the Foundation, wants you, a firefighter , to house a Burnish?” 

Hearing it lined up out loud makes it sound all the more ridiculous. Atsumu closes his eyes and nods, slowly.

For a moment, everything is still. And then, “Oh my god, you’re not kidding.”

Atsumu breathes in. Out. Opens his eyes. “I’m not kidding.” He leans back on the couch to stare at the pipes lining the ceiling. “Kinda wish I was, though.”

"How did this even happen?"

“I dunno, really.” There’s two dented piped in the right corner of the ceiling. He wonders how they got there. “Don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it, though.”

“Makes sense.” Aran goes rigid. “Holy shit, am I an accomplice now?”

Atsumu breaks out of his thoughts, a grin gradually growing on his face. He sits up to stare Aran in the eyes with a forced intensity. “Guess we’re both criminals now, huh?”

Aran swats at him, hard. “Don’t joke about that, idiot.”

“Ow!” Atsumu cradles where he was hit. “I’m not joking about it! I just think—”

The door to the garage opens, cutting him off mid-sentence and drawing both of their attention across the station. It reveals Suna, halfway through parking his motorcycle, waving weakly at the two of them as he locks it and starts to walk in their direction.

“What’s happening?” He asks, pulling over a chair to sit across from where they’ve been bunched up on the couch. 

“Oh you know, the usual,” Aran starts casually, “Just talking about how Atsumu’s a criminal now.”

“Hey—!”

Suna relaxes in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah, the drug deal you’re doing with your brother.”

“The—” Atsumu sputters, “—how do you know that?” He stops. “And don’t call it a drug deal!”

Suna fixes him with a flat stare. “I literally live with your brother. We’ve been together for like, five years.”

Atsumu groans, throwing his head back on the couch before sitting up and looking at the both of them sharply. “You can’t fucking tell anyone, okay?” He points between the two of them aggressively. 

Aran holds his hands up in the air defensively. “We won’t, we won’t.” He huffs. “Can’t believe you two got us fuckin’ involved in this too.”

“Should we tell the rest of the team?” Suna offers. He looks at Atsumu. “You know you can't keep quiet for long.”

“Fuckin’—” Atsumu rubs a hand down his face. “Fine .”

Ginjima comes in that night, and when they finally sit him down and explain everything, he has nearly the same reaction as Aran, disbelief morphing into exhaustion. 

“This is ridiculous.” He says, his head in his hands. He looks up to point at Atsumu, his stare hardened. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Ginjima opens his mouth to say something then shuts it, taking a moment to himself to think. “Have you told Kita yet?”

“Um.” Atsumu turns behind him to look up at Kita’s office, the lights on and the door shut. He wonders if he’s on the phone with someone.

He wonders if he's about to get fired.

He looks back to Ginjima. “No.”

Almost on cue, the door to Kita’s office opens, like he knew his name was being mentioned. He walks out and leans his hands up against the railing. “Why are you all looking up here?”

Ginjima nudges him.

“I’m a criminal now.” Atsumu blurts. Okay. Bad start.

Kita blinks, taken aback. “Alright,” He moves his hands from the railing to his jacket pockets, and slowly starts to head down the stairs to where everyone else is. “There’s got to be more than that.”

“Well.” He takes breath. “‘Samu talked me into housing a Burnish. For his friend. In my home. Indefinitely.”

“A Burnish?” Kita asks. 

Atsumu nods. 

He sits on the couch armrest and looks around at the four of them. Thinks. "Something tells me everyone here already knows."

Atsumu nods again.

Kita sets a hand on his shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “We’ll make sure to keep you safe, then.”

It’s not the reaction he was expecting at all, and he can distantly feel tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “Thank you.” He scrubs at his eyes. “This is so weird. How’d I get roped into this. What the fuck.”

There’s a few soft laughs throughout their group, and he feels another hand patting his back gently. It’s going to be fine.

He’s gonna be fine.

Seeing Komori standing awkwardly near his apartment door is almost an exact mirror of their previous meeting. He has the same coat on, the same bag roughly slung over his shoulder, and his phone is taking up his attention.

The difference?

There's a hooded figure looming behind him, hands shoved deep into the front pocket of his hoodie and a backpack hanging behind him. 

Atsumu's out of his element here, so says a small greeting from halfway down the hall to grab their attention, waving once they lock eyes with him. He doesn’t want to stand out in the open for too long, so he quickly maneuvers past the two to unlock his front door, motioning them inside. He makes sure to inspect the outside hallway a final time before locking the door after all of them. 

Komori is in a quiet conversation with the Burnish as he sets down his bag next to the couch, looking at Atsumu with a tight-lipped smile when he notices that he’s staring at the two of them. 

They stop their conversation, and the room is filled with an uncomfortable silence.

“You can sit down. If you want.” Atsumu offers.

Komori shakes his head. “I can’t stay for long, anyways.” He nudges the Burnish with force. “ Go on .”

This whole ordeal vaguely like a parent dropping their kid off to daycare. There’s a frustrated huff from under the hood, and the Burnish turns his head to Komori with an aggressive mumble.

Atsumu wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

It takes another two nudges for him to finally step forward and extend a hand. “Sakusa Kiyoomi.” He announces. 

He wants to shake his hand, he really does, but he's hit with the phantom pains of an age old burn that runs down his arm. His hand draws back just slightly, against his will. He cringes. This is an atrocious first impression. He knows he won't get burned by a simple handshake, but his body says otherwise. 

Sakusa draws his hand back as well, apparently noticing the quiver of his hands. 

He tries to cover his tracks with a nod and a small wave of his hand. “Miya Atsumu.”

From where he's standing, it's impossible to tell Sakusa's expression. The hood casts a shadow over his face, and Atsumu's left confused. 

They stand there quietly for a long minute with nothing else to say before Komori interrupts, lightly tapping on Sakusa’s shoulder. 

“Okay,” He looks over to Atsumu and nods for him to take a few steps closer. “There’s not much I can do now, but I gave you—” He looks up at Sakusa. “—everything you might need.”

Sakusa scoffs. “You sound like my dad.”

“I sound like I’m keeping you alive ,” Komori hisses back. It sounds lighthearted. “Anyways. If I have time I'll drop you off my old laptop so you can do something to keep in touch, okay?"

“Okay.” Sakusa nods.

In a way, Atsumu feels like he’s invading in on something intimate. There’s something soft in Komori’s eyes when he looks under Sakusa’s hood, and a level of concern that his voice didn’t show a few days ago.

Atsumu decides to speak up. This is his mess too, now.

“I’ll do what I can.”

The attention snaps up to him, and Komori smiles at him. “Thank you. Really.” He goes to give Sakusa a side hug that he quickly squirms away from, and he laughs, looking back at Atsumu. “Keep me updated. Please.”

Atsumu nods. 

“Alright,” Komori adjusts the bag on his shoulder and makes eye contact with Sakusa. “I should head out.” He looks between the two of them. “Stay safe, okay?”

“We will, we will.” Atsumu replies. In the corner of his eye, he can see Sakusa nod. 

There’s a few more goodbyes between the two before he eventually walks out, leaving just him and Sakusa alone in the stillness of his apartment. 

“Um,” Atsumu starts, trying to find the best way to cut the tension in the room. “You live here now.”

Sakusa finally takes his hood off, shaking out his hair and glaring at him. “I live here now.”

Atsumu’s gets halfway through a thought about what to say next when it hits him just how pretty Sakusa is. All of the Burnish that he’s met in the past have been ragged and cruel, their hair unkempt with grime and dirt clinging to every part of their bodies.

Sakusa doesn’t look like that at all.

He stands a bit taller, now that the hood is gone. He’s definitely the taller one between them. There’s two moles seated directly above his eyebrow that draw in Atsumu’s attention, and it’s almost upsetting how good his hair looks for a man that just escaped the desert. 

“Hello?” Sakusa breaks through his thoughts, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Yeah,” He’s snapped back to reality. “Hi.”

This is already miserable. Holy shit.

“Do I have a room?”

Atsumu almost trips over his own feet to get moving. “Yeah, yeah,” He stabilizes himself on the counter for a second before walking to the door to the right of his own. He motions to it. “This is yours.”

He didn’t do much to set it up, just changing the sheets and making sure he didn’t leave any of his own junk around, but he hopes it’s at least suitable to live in. 

Sakusa opens the door and flicks the light on, looking around the mostly empty room. He purses his lips slightly as he takes everything in, his expression not changing in the slightest. Atsumu wishes he knew what he was thinking.

If he was on the run up until now, what’s this like for him? Is this his first time having a bed in four years? His first time showering ? Do Burnish even need to shower?

Okay that’s a stupid question. Sakusa’s staring at him. 

“Is there anything else you want to see?” Atsumu offers.

Sakusa shrugs, indifferent.

Atsumu wants to scream. He doesn’t care about people. At all, ever. But there’s something about the Burnish standing halfway in his door frame that he feels the need to get along with. Maybe it's the fact that they’re going to be sharing the same space for an indefinite amount of time.

Maybe.

“Alright, so,” He gestures into the open space behind them. “This is the living room. Kitchen’s right there.” He points in the general direction. He points at the door behind him, then opens the door to the left of him. “My room. Uh— bathroom. There’s only one. Sorry.”

Sakusa cringes slightly, and Atsumu almost feels bad. 

“Do you have any rules?” Sakusa looks pained to be asking the question. 

“Nah, not really.” Atsumu says with a small laugh, and he sees Sakusa’s face clear, just slightly. “I’m a firefighter, so I’m at the station more often than not.” He goes to walk around the open area. “Just don’t get us arrested, I guess.”

Sakusa frowns.

“I mean, you’re free to go out as long as you just—”

“No.” Sakusa’s voice is firm. “I know what the Foundation is capable of if I’m found.”

That shuts Atsumu up quickly. 

“It’s just…” Sakusa looks down at the floor. “It’s nice to have a bed.”

“Yeah,” Atsumu nods, caught off guard by the admission. 

Sakusa moves to grab the backpack he left by the couch, throwing it back over his shoulder. “I’m just gonna,” He nods towards the room. His room, now.

“Oh,” Atsumu takes a step back despite not being in the way. “Go ahead. I’ll see you around, I guess.” 

The reply he gets is just the disappearance of his figure and the sound of his door clicking shut. 

He doesn’t see Sakusa around.

The two of them don’t talk, after the day they met. Sakusa spends most, if not all of his time in his room, and Atsumu doesn’t want to bother him too much, so he makes it a point to stay out of his way.

Everything is surprisingly the same as it was before. There’s just two toothbrushes in the bathroom. Sometimes, he hears misplaced sounds when he isn't paying attention. He starts to run out of soap faster. Run out of everything faster. 

It’s the same, but there’s a person he knows, knows, is there, sharing every inch of his space, that he never sees or speaks to. He’ll get a glimpse of the back of a head every so often when Sakusa is ducking back into his room, or the bathroom door will be locked early in the morning, but they never talk . 

It’s driving him crazy, maybe. 

He’ll come home to find something he was working on cleaned off the table, or the dishes he left the night before suddenly put away, or the smell of an air freshener he forgot he had running through the rooms. It’s like living with a clean, ill-tempered ghost. 

He develops a habit of tip-toeing around his house half the time. He doesn’t know why. 

Maybe he’s scared of upsetting the fire-being that now resides in his guest bedroom, that he’ll burn him to a crisp if he takes two wrong steps. Maybe he’s upset that Osamu talked him into this so he could have company, and he’s not sure if said company is just a figment of his imagination, sometimes.

There used to be a carelessness that flowed through the vents of his apartment. Now, it feels sucked out. Unfamiliar.

“You’ve been living by yourself since the end of high school. Aren’t you lonely?”

God, fuck Osamu for saying that. He didn’t need somebody to live with, he needed a spare bunk at the station and a nap that lasted him a few months.

Atsumu doesn’t hate living with Sakusa. He doesn’t. It’s just weird and unfamiliar and antsy in a way that makes him want crawl out of his own skin and scream. 

Suna finds him that morning laying flat on the floor in the center of the station, an arm thrown over his eyes to protect them from the light overhead.

“Hey.” He kicks at Atsumu’s thigh. “Stop being overdramatic.” Another kick. 

He takes the arm off of his face and crosses it over his chest, squinting as he makes eye contact with Suna. “I am not being overdramatic.” His face screws up. “I haven’t even said anything yet!” 

“Okay?” Suna retorts, “You’re in the middle of the fucking floor, I know whatever comes out of your mouth is going to be overdramatic.”

Atsumu pouts. “Shut up.”

All of this, living with someone wasn’t supposed to be so draining . He managed it throughout his entire childhood easily, but something about the past few weeks has him feeling like a corpse. 

Maybe he could move onto Osamu’s couch. Sakusa probably wouldn’t notice he was gone, and annoying his brother is nothing new to him. 

“I’m not letting you move in with us.” Suna announces, like he read his mind. 

Atsumu sits up, propping himself up on his elbows and staring up at Suna with malice. “Fuck you.” He brushes off his hands on his pants and stands up to be eye-to-eye with him. “Not even for a night or two?”

“Nope.” Suna turns around, walking deeper into the station. “Don’t you have to build a robot or something?” 

Atsumu makes an offended noise. “I guess.” 

He ignores Suna’s small chuckle and goes to pull out some blueprints from a few days back, trying his hardest to distract himself from everything that’s been happening around him. 

It’s a slow day, for the most part. There’s no emergencies for them to get called to, so he does in fact build a robot, chatting idly with the rest of the team as they lounge around. 

“You’re gloomy.” Ginjima observes as he flexes his hand around the part that Atsumu built during the day. It’s dark outside, now. 

He ignores the statement. “Is that at the right angle?” He points at something near the bottom

“Does it have something to do with the Burnish?” 

Atsumu takes it from his hands, trying to keep his movements calm. He doesn’t want to do this now. “I’ll go ahead and fix it.”

“Atsumu—”

He turns on his heel and glares at Ginjima. “Is this a fucking interrogation?” 

“No, I just—”

“I’m not,” Atsumu takes a deep breath and fixes him with a hard stare. “I’m not doing this tonight.” He sets down the part and walks over to his locker, trying not slam it as he grabs his keys and heads towards his bike. He looks back into the station and sees everyone’s eyes on him. “Sorry.”

Their eyes are still on him when he hops onto his bike and drives off, and he can almost still feel them when he’s a mile away, halfway to his apartment under the Promepolis moon.

Looking up, he can barely see the door to his apartment past the railing. Something in him tenses up when he thinks about how there’s a firestarter sitting in there, like a sitting duck waiting for an attack. He wonders when Sakusa will leave. If he’ll leave. Will he go back to the desert?

He shakes his head. It’s not the time for him to go on stupid tangents like that. He parks his bike nearby and locks it, digging for the right key as he walks up the stairs. This late, most of his neighbors are asleep, but he can faintly hear music or the echoes of a TV as he makes his way down the hall. 

Of course, his place is quiet from the outside.

He’s greeted by a dimly lit apartment once he unlocks the door. The kitchen lights are on and there’s a few wisps of light peeking through the bottom of Sakusa’s door. He debates, for a moment, announcing that he’s home. He’s never done it before. He decides to close the door with a little extra force to at least make his presence known. 

It’s been warmer in his apartment since Sakusa moved in. Well, Atsumu’s not sure if it’s his own paranoia or his illegal roommate that’s driving the temperature up. He shrugs off his Burning Rescue jacket and hangs it up near the door. It’s probably his illegal roommate. 

Looking into the kitchen, he realizes that he doesn’t have much of an appetite for anything. He should probably buy food for the both of them, though. 

He sighs. He should’ve brought the build with him. At least it would’ve been something to keep his hands busy. He pulls out his phone instead, two texts sitting in his notifications. 

(Ginjima) 08:41 PM : I’m sorry

(No) 09:00 PM : haha rin said you threw a hissy fit

The two texts alone give him a headache, so he shuts it off, shoving it roughly into his back pocket to stand up and pace around the living room. It's too quiet. 

The quiet used to be comforting, when he was alone. 

But now, he knows that there’s someone else here. There’s someone else who sits under all the quiet and hides from him, every day. He hates it.

He can’t handle living like this. 

Atsumu walks into the station the next day sulking. Laying down on the floor looks tempting to do again, but a twinge of pain in his back has him deciding against it. Instead, he grabs the rolling chair by his computer and drags it to where the rest of the team is sitting, plopping down in it with force. 

Everyone’s staring at him.

“Fine. I’ll say it.” He spits out. “My roommate doesn’t talk to me and I hate it.”

He's met with blank stares and no replies. 

“You mean your illegal roommate?” Suna eventually breaks in. Kita elbows him in the side with a firm stare, waiting for him to correct himself. “Your totally legally roommate.”

Atsumu groans. “Sure. Whatever. He just sits in his room all the time and never interacts with me and I’m tired of it.”

“That’s it?” Arans staring at him incredulously.

He can see Suna holding back a laugh at the reply and he wants, so badly, to scream. He’s in a crisis, he doesn’t have time to be laughed at today.

“Don’t be so dismissive about it!” Suna gives in and starts laughing. “I’m spillin’ my heart out here!”

“God,” Aran rests his head in his hands.

“I need help!” Okay, so maybe he’s whining. Whatever, he’ll whine, as long as it gets Sakusa to talk to him. 

“Alright, alright,” Kita coughs, trying to rescue Atsumu from the team’s teasing.

“You are all so fuckin’ lucky I even trust you with this in the first place—”

“Alright.”

They all shut up.

“So,” Ginjima breaks the silence. “What are we working with here?”

Atsumu lays out the last few weeks to them in detail, how they haven’t spoken since he moved in, and how he’s probably inches away from going crazy. It sounds stupid, now that he says it all out loud.

“Atsumu,” Kita starts with a tone that Atsumu can tell is going to scold him, “Have you even tried speaking to him?”

“Uh.”

Kita stares at him, unimpressed. “Atsumu.”

“I don’t even know where to start!” He leans back into his chair and shuts his eyes, tight. “Hey Sakusa, how’s the weather? How are you enjoying being captive in my city apartment because the entire world wants to kill you?”

Aran lets out a long, tired breath.

He sits back up to stare at them. “Am I wrong?”

The rest of the team evades his gaze. 

It’s a convoluted victory, knowing that his own teammates agree that it’s going to be almost impossible to connect with his teammate. All of this is giving him a headache.

“Maybe try offering him something?” Ginjima suggests after a long bout of silence. “Ask what he wants from the store, or make him food.” He looks at Atsumu. “It’s like a peace offering.”

“A peace offering sounds dumb.” Atsumu shrinks under Kita’s gaze. “Sorry.”

“At least try it.” Kita pipes in. “It’s better than nothing.”

“I guess.” Atsumu shrugs. “I’ll try it and keep you updated, then.” He looks around at everyone staring at him. “Alright, can this stop looking like a therapy session now?”

Aran shoves him as everyone stands up, going to their own corner of the station to go work on whatever they were doing and wait in case of any alarms. Atsumu joins them soon enough, finding the build he abandoned yesterday and playing with it as the conversation plays over in his head.

A peace offering. 

"A peace offering," Atsumu mutters to himself the next day, standing stiffly in front of Sakusa's door as he tries to figure out the best way to phrase what he wants to say, a hand raised to knock. 

He rasps at the door a few quick times, quickly lowering his hand. He’s praying that he doesn’t fuck this up. It's fine. 

This is a peace offering to his roommate, that he desperately needs to speak to at least once before he loses his mind. It’s going to be fine. 

There’s about ten agonizing seconds of nothing before Sakusa finally opens the door. He’s standing uncomfortably with one hand on the door and the other shoved into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“What.”

Atsumu hasn't seen the inside of the room since Sakusa staked claim over it, and he's surprised now, seeing just how clean it is inside. There's a book resting on top of the bed that looks barely ruffled, and the laptop that Komori delivered is lined up with the edge of the nightstand. It doesn't feel lived in, the longer he stares at it. 

He realizes that he hasn’t replied to Sakusa’s question.

“Uh.”

Oh god, why is he doing this to himself again?

“I’m going to the store.” He almost forgets what to say next. “Do you want anything?”

Sakusa frowns in front of him, and he regrets ever opening his mouth.

“You’ve never asked me that before.”

“I haven’t?” He asks. It sounds dumb. No really, why is he doing this to himself? “Well, figured I’d try and be nice for once.”

Sakusa lets out a small huff of air, and if Atsumu were a bit more optimistic, he’d count it as a laugh. “Your body wash sucks. And the only real thing you have in your kitchen is rice.”

“I have real food!” Atsumu defends, choosing to ignore the body wash remark. He looks back into the kitchen to try and prove his point, and it hits him that Sakusa’s right, he hasn’t bought groceries since he moved in weeks ago. “Nevermind.”

There's a knowing glint in Sakusa's eyes when Atsumu looks back at him, and he resists the urge to lunge at him. This is your roommate, Atsumu, a voice in his head sounds, you’re supposed to be nice and not kill him, Atsumu.

He groans internally. “So better soap and real food. Anything else?” 

“That’s all I can think of,” Sakusa says with a shrug. “Oh— your bathroom cleaner is expired too.”

“Really?”

Sakusa looks bored. “You can check, if you want.”

He needs to get out of this house before he starts to plot a murder. “Too hard. I’ll just trust you.” He turns around and goes to look for his keys. 

“It’s only three things.” Sakusa’s voice sounds from behind him. 

“And?” 

“Don’t mess it up.”

“Yeah, yeah. You got it.” He waves his hand behind him weakly. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“I don’t care when you’re back.” Sakusa deadpans.

Is this the treatment he gets for being nice?

He finally finds the keys to his bike and holds a peace sign in the air, listening for the telltale sign of Sakusa’s door closing. It shuts after a long few seconds, a cue for Atsumu to leave. 

Twenty minutes into staring at an aisle of men’s body wash, he realizes that he’s definitely not going to be back in an hour. Not that Sakusa cares.

After another few long minutes, he finally gives up, pulling out his phone and opening Komori’s contact.

(Me) 04:51 PM : What soap does your cousin like

(Komori) 04:52 PM : what

(Me) 04:52 PM : He said my body wash sucked

(Komori) 04:53 PM : lollll

(Komori) 04:53 PM : he likes eucalyptus or mint scents i think

(Komori) 04:53 PM : i could be wrong

(Me) 04:54 PM : Thank you

(Komori) 04:54 PM : haha no prob good luck dude

Atsumu shoves his phone back into his pocket, re-assessing the aisle in front of him. There’s a neon green bottle in his direct line of vision labeled Fresh Eucalyptus that looks a bit more expensive than his regular soap. His perfectly fine regular soap. 

He snatches the bottle of the shelf and walks away, venturing into the rest of the store before he can spend any more time agonizing over fucking body wash . 

There’s another hour he spends wandering the store finding the right bathroom cleaner and trying to decide what counts as ‘real’ food in Sakusa’s eyes, finishing once he realizes that the sun has set outside and the people inside the store are slowly dwindling out. 

Once Atsumu gets home, he announces his presence with a small, “I’m back.” It’s his first time actually saying it, and he grins a bit to himself at the revelation.

“I don’t know what you like, so there’s just a bunch of shit. Filter through it if you want.” He says into the empty room in the hopes Sakusa hears him.

There’s no reply, and he assumes that’s the last of it, setting down his keys on the closest surface and laying out the bags on the kitchen countertop.

Sakusa’s voice comes from behind the door, almost a whisper. “Thanks.”

It’s easy to miss over the crinkling of plastic bags, but he hears it clearly. A smile, genuine, finds its way onto Atsumu’s face.

“Anytime.” He says back, just as quiet. 

He’s in the middle of brushing his teeth for the night when he sees Sakusa creep out of his room into the kitchen from the open crack of the bathroom door. His voice sounds from the kitchen.

“This all sucks. I’m making a list next time.” He calls out.

Hurrying to spit out his toothpaste, Atsumu pokes his head out of the door frame to see where Sakusa is standing over the grocery bags.

“I tried!” 

Sakusa looks over at him, unimpressed. He gets the chilling feeling that he's looking straight through him, and it hits him that he's shirtless.

“Did you?” He asks, an eyebrow raised. Somehow, it sounds like a challenge. 

Atsumu folds his arms over his chest to try and feel a little less exposed. “Is the body wash at least decent?” It better be, after Komori’s help.

Sakusa grabs the bottle from one of the bags and turns it over in his hands. His face stays neutral. “I guess.”

Well. At least there’s one win. Probably.

“Alright. Great.” He walks back into the bathroom to finish what he was doing, returning to the living room to find Sakusa still filtering his way through Atsumu’s kitchen. He almost looks like he belongs there, even if he’s just aggressively rearranging the fridge. 

“Do you want help?” Atsumu asks, distantly feeling guilty for just standing and observing.

Looking back at Atsumu, Sakusa shakes his head and turns back around. “No.”

Atsumu shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He wants to linger for a bit to try and talk to Sakusa some more, but it’s pretty obvious that he wants to be left alone.

Tapping his fingers on the counter to grab his attention, he says a quick, “Goodnight,” before turning back into his room. “And I’ll tell you next time I go out so you can make a list.” He adds for good measure. 

He hears Sakusa say something vague in return, but he’s already back in his room, the door closed after him. It takes him less than a minute to flop face down into his bed, almost immediately knocking out. All of this in one day tired him out.

He drifts off to sleep with Sakusa’s flat voice echoing in his mind.

It’s better after that. A lot better, surprisingly. They still don’t talk as much as Atsumu would like them to, and Sakusa still tends to avoid him, but there’s less tension running through the heated air of his apartment. 

They fall into an easy banter whenever they run into each other outside of their rooms, Sakusa poking fun at Atsumu’s taste in things, and Atsumu either taking it in stride or finding something to jab at back. It’s nice.

He walks in on Sakusa in the kitchen once, a small flame cradled in his hand under a mug of sorts. Atsumu’s frozen in his place, attention drawn to Sakusa’s hands. He glares in his direction, a “ Don’t fucking ask,” obvious in his gaze.

“Uh.” Atsumu starts. “We have a microwave.”

“I know.” Sakusa  looks down at his hands, indifferent. He doesn’t move or say anything else.

Atsumu leaves it at that. 

Later, in the midst of a petty argument between them, he realizes that it was the first time he saw Sakusa actually use his burnish powers. Huh.

He finally starts to feel familiar in his apartment again. There’s a new life that’s been breathed back into it. Atsumu finds himself enjoying Sakusa’s presence more often than not, slowly getting back the energy he lost in the past few weeks from the short bouts that they have in passing.

Osamu laughs at him. “So you bought him soap, food, and cleaner one time and you’re counting that as a win? Alright.”

They’re sitting in the grass at a park in the outskirts of the city, snacking on some food that Osamu brought with him. He’s still paranoid about the Foundation, rightfully so, and since most of Atsumu’s life updates now involve a fugitive, they’ve been meeting up in person to talk.

“Hey, this is your fault in the first place, asshole.” Atsumu defends.

“I know, I know.” Osamu sounds guilty. “At least you two talked?”

“At least we talked,” Atsumu repeats. “And we’ve been talking. More.” 

Osamu nods, taking a bite out of the onigiri in his hands and staring off into the rest of the park.

Atsumu nudges his shoulder. “So, what’s been up with you?” 

“I dunno.” He shrugs, speaking around a mouthful of food. “All I do is go between the lab and home every day. Sometimes I cook with Rin.”

“Lame.” A hard kick lands on Atsumu’s shin. He yelps. 

“You’re lame.”

“D’ya think Omi would like pizza?” Atsumu asks, unprompted.

“Huh?” Osamu snorts. “From what I’ve heard? Absolutely not. If you wanna cook, try somethin’ a little less messy that you can’t fuck up.”

“I don’t fuck up!"

“Yes, you do.” Osamu deadpans. “There was that time—” 

“So not pizza. ” Atsumu interrupts before he can continue. “Do you have any ideas then, chef?” He grins, taunting.

Osamu swats at his arm with a frown. “I don’t. The dude doesn’t sound like he enjoys anything, really.”

“That’s not helpful!” Atsumu lays down into the grass. “Fuckin’ grocery list was vague too, so I don’t even know what he likes.”

There’s a laugh from above him. “Don’t overthink it. You’re brain’s too small.”

“Hey—!” Atsumu sits up, glaring at him. “It’s a perfectly fine brain, I’ll have you know.” He groans. “Whatever. I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

“That’s the spirit,” Osamu chuckles. “C’mon, we should probably head out. I said I’d help Rin with some stuff at home today.” He brushes himself off and stands up, offering a hand to Atsumu. 

Rolling his eyes, he takes the hand, standing up and grabbing some of their stuff that was left in the grass. 

They clean everything else up and make idle chat before heading their separate ways, Atsumu to his bike, and Osamu to his car, waving goodbye as they drive off.

He still doesn’t like his car.

Looking away, he unfolds the sheet of paper in his pocket to look over the grocery list that Sakusa had left on the counter the night before. He frowns, trying to make sense of his handwriting.

There’s not much listed, just some vegetables and other random items, but his eyes catch on the third entry on the list.

Body wash. Same one.

Atsumu smiles to himself. 

He’s lost. 

Okay— not actually lost. He’s just standing in the middle of his kitchen with a cutting knife in one hand and a carrot in the other and he cannot remember where he put any of the pots and pans. 

He’s not making pizza, courtesy of Osamu’s input, but there are a few curry blocks he picked up a few days ago sitting on the counter that he prays Sakusa won’t hate.

It takes ten minutes of searching until he finds the pot he’s looking for hiding in the back corner of one of the lower cabinets, behind an old rusty appliance of sorts that he doesn’t remember buying. 

Alright. Back to business. 

It’s easy after that. He’s made this enough times in the past with Osamu to the point where it comes to him naturally, cutting up the vegetables and adding them to the pot, waiting for the water to boil, and adding the blocks of curry until it dissolves. 

He covers the pot and goes to make sure there’s rice still in the cooker before heads over to Sakusa’s door.

“Omi,” He knocks on the door. “I made food if you want. some.” He wanders back into the kitchen, not wanting to be looming by the door if Sakusa opens up. 

There’s a few minutes of silence as he sets up two plates before Sakusa emerges from his room. He looks tired, and as much as Atsumu wants to, he knows better than to ask. 

“Stop giving me nicknames.” Sakusa says, looking over to him. 

 Atsumu laughs. “Whatever you say, Omi-omi.”

He makes a low sound of distaste that makes Atsumu grin as he walks over to the table, setting down their plates and grabbing a few utensils on the way. He looks Sakusa dead in the eyes as he sits down. “You better fuckin’ like curry.”

“I do,” Sakusa says, staring back at him with his eyebrows raised slightly. “It’s fine.”

“Oh. Good.” It wasn’t the answer Atsumu was expecting. He didn’t know what he was expecting at all. 

They eat mostly in silence, accompanied by nothing but the sound of metal against plates and the cars and city life outside of the windows. The silence is mutual, and Atsumu vividly remembers the first time they ate together, Sakusa violently threatening him for chewing with his mouth open. 

Yeah, looking back, it was gross. But it wasn’t worth threatening to burn him. 

Anyways.

Sakusa offers to clean the dishes once they’re finished, so Atsumu searches for something to busy himself around the kitchen as the sink sounds from behind him. There’s a spare part sitting on the countertop that he remembers Suna throwing at him to fix, so he grabs it alongside a few tools and takes a seat back at the table. 

Better than nothing.

“What’s that?” Sakusa asks, leaning over his shoulder, a towel resting in his hands.

“Oh,” Atsumu turns over the part in his hands, giving it a quick toss in the air. “It’s just somethin’ that needed fixing for Suna’s mech.” He looks behind him to stare up at Sakusa. “Why? Do you wanna fix it?” 

Sakusa grimaces, leaning back just barely. “No.”

The reaction piques Atsumu’s interest. He grins. “You scared, Omi?”

“I’m not—'' Sakusa scoffs, indignant. “I’m not scared . It’s a hunk of metal.”

“Really?” Atsumu tosses it up for him to catch. Sakusa moves the towel in his hands and catches the part without flinching, making sure to glare at him. “Then try it.”

Frowning, Sakusa sets the towel behind him and pulls back the seat next to Atsumu, sitting down and turning over the part in his hands.

He looks over at Atsumu. “So what the fuck do I do?”

Atsumu almost wants to giggle. “Here,” He motions for Sakusa to hold the piece out. “So you gotta take these two off—” He points at two screws in opposite corners, “—to get to the center of it.”

“Sure,” Sakusa replies, the tone of his voice starkly different from the confused look on his face.

Atsumu hands him a small screwdriver to use, smirking to himself as Sakusa furrows his brows and fumbles to get the screws out. He gets one out successfully, setting it down on the table. He goes for the second one, but his hand falters just barely, the screwdriver falling out of his hands.

He looks at Atsumu, his expression flat. “This is stupid.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Atsumu asks. Challenges. 

Sakusa frowns. “No.” He leans down to the floor, picking up the screwdriver. “I can do it.” He goes at it again, managing to get the second screwdriver out and take the top plate off, revealing a crowded section of wires. “What the fuck.”

“Here,” Atsumu motions for him to hand it over. Sakusa leans back, holding the part closer to his chest. Atsumu raises an eyebrow. 

“I can do it just fine.”

“Omi,” He drawls, “Have you done anything with wires? Like ever?”

“I can learn.”

Atsumu groans. “Well. I won’t stop you.” He motions for Sakusa to bring his hands back to the table. “C’mon.”

Slowly, Sakusa brings his hands back to the table, the part still in his grasp. He moves a wire with his thumb and looks up to Atsumu. 

Rolling his eyes, Atsumu goes to hover his hands near Sakusa’s. He makes quick eye contact with him. “I’m just gonna point, is that okay?”

Sakusa hesitates. He looks down at their hands for a few moments, then back up at Atsumu. “Okay.”

Atsumu nods, leaning closer to Sakusa. Even when they’re not touching, there’s always a strong warmth radiating from Sakusa. It’s like standing near a fireplace, and the question of what it would be like to fall asleep near him comes up in his mind. 

He points at a wire before he can think more on that. Not now.

“Do you see how this red one isn't connected to anything?” Sakusa nods. “Some of it probably got torn up while we were dispatched, so just look for the other part of it. It should be in there somewhere.”

Sakusa nods, and Atsumu pulls his hands back into his lap. He can still feel the residual warmth from Sakusa on the palms of his hands.

It’s nice. Cozy.

“Is this it?” There are two halves of the red wire standing upright, and Sakusa is looking at him for confirmation. 

“Yeah,” He tries to snap himself back into reality. “You might be able to do a Burnish thing to connect the two back together.” 

“Don’t call it a Burnish thing. It sounds stupid.” Sakusa’s tone is light, but there's an undertone of something undistinguishable. Atsumu tries to say something in response, but Sakusa is already continuing. “So just melt it together?”

“Yup.”

A small flame, almost invisible, gathers around his fingertips. He holds it near the wires, and although Atsumu won’t admit it, he’s still in awe seeing his flames in action. Pink and blue reflect off the metal in Sakusa’s hands, and from here, it almost looks mystical.

The flame disappears. The wires are connected again, and Sakusa is staring at him. “Is that it?"

Atsumu grabs the top plate off of the table and hands it to him. “Just screw this back on. I can test it at the station tomorrow and see if it actually works.”

Sakusa takes it from his hands and goes through the motions, screwing everything back in. “Told you I could do it.” He doesn’t look up.

“Stubborn.” Atsumu quips back.

The part finds it’s back in Atsumu’s hands, and he sees Sakusa rolling his eyes at him as he stands up. “I’m going to bed.” He walks towards his bedroom, turning back to look at Atsumu once he gets to the doorframe. “That was fun. Thanks.”

Sakusa’s never admitted that he's actually enjoyed something before.

Atsumu’s almost in shock, staring at him with wide eyes from the table. Sakusa hasn’t moved yet, and he tries to get his brain to come up with a response.

“Uh. Yeah.” He stops. “You’re welcome.”

A small smile grows on Sakusa’s face before he turns around. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He almost hesitates.

He has a nice smile .

“So, is the disaster with your roommate going any better?” Suna asks once he walks into the station the next day.

Atsumu rolls his eyes, shrugging off his jacket to stuff it into his locker. “I’ll have you know that it is going better.”

He sees Aran peek his head out from behind the open locker door next to his. “Wait, really?”

“Yes!” Atsumu defends. “We eat dinner together sometimes.” He pointedly leaves out the memory of Sakusa smiling at him from his doorframe. The memory of their hands centimeters away from brushing.

That’s his information to keep.

“Huh.” Aran seems shocked. “Never thought you’d actually do it. Nice going.”

Atsumu sputters. “What do you mean you never thought I’d do it?”

“I dunno.” Aran shrugs, closing his locker. “Figured you’d get toasted or something first.”

“He makes a fair point,” Suna adds.

“Y’know what—"

The overhead alarm starts to blare, stopping him in his tracks. He breathes a sigh of relief at the fact that he’s not going to be hounded about his home life for at least an hour.

“Is it just the three of us?” He asks. 

Kita emerges from his office, almost on cue, looking down at them. He waves a hand, motioning for them to go get on their gear. “I just saw the report, I think it’s a Burnish awakening. Keep on your toes.” He jogs down the stairs and hops into his car that’s parked next to the rescue truck.

Everyone else follows Atsumu into the truck to suit up, and he sits down at the inside computer to double-check the report that Kita mentioned. It’s a house fire on the east side of town, but there doesn’t seem to be many civilians in danger.

He sees the truck's lights start to flash, already on the way to the destination.

“Oh, by the way,” He looks at Suna as he's stepping into his mech. He looks at Atsumu. “I think I fixed that piece for you last night.” Atsumu fishes through his pockets to see if he stored it in there. His hand catches on metal, and he pulls it up and tosses it to Suna. “Reattach that and see if it works.” 

“Damn, I thought you forgot about that. Thanks.” He plugs it in somewhere behind him, and Atsumu can see a faint light turn on behind him. 

“It works?”

Suna taps it once out of curiosity, then turns back to look at Atsumu with a thumbs-up. “Good as new.”

“Cool,” Atsumu replies offhandedly. He makes a mental note to tell Sakusa later that his job wasn’t half bad.

The jolts them all to a stop, and Atsumu peeks out to see how bad the state of the building is. Atsumu grimaces at the amount of flares. Suna and Aran are already out of the truck, Suna heading to the top floor to check for any stragglers, and Aran going through the front to dry and douse the root of the fire. Atsumu makes sure to pull up the view through both of their visors and checks the heat signatures throughout the building.

“Aran, above you and to your left,” He announces over his headset. “That’s where the heat signature is the strongest.”

“Be careful ,” Kita warns. 

Aran checks the rest of the first floor before moving up a floor, heading to the source of the heat as Suna announces that there’s nobody else in the building.

He minimizes Suna’s visor view on his monitor to make more room for Aran’s as he plows through rubbles and shoots out a few loose flares. He gets close to the corner of the room, where a bright, almost blinding flame is nestled. 

As he gets closer, what’s under the flame becomes clearer, and it hits Atsumu that there’s a person, a Burnish , sitting there curled up.

“I think it’s a Burnish awakening,” Kita’s comment from earlier rings in his ears.

Atsumu’s seen the aftermath of awakenings more times than he can count, houses destroyed and families torn apart. Hell, even his own family fell at the hands of the neighbor’s Burnish awakening.

But there’s something about the person on his monitor, about how they’re cowering from Aran’s form, that has something clenching at the edges of his heart. In his mind, he sees curly hair. He sees moles. Oh.

“—umu. Atsumu!” He’s snapped back to reality by the yelling over the headset. 

“What?”

“I think we should contact Freeze Force Captain in case Mad Burnish shows up,” Kita says quietly.

“I don’t—”

“Atsumu .” Kita’s voice is firm. “It’s our job .”

His hands feel heavy as he pulls up a tab on his monitor, the Captain’s contact staring him down. Everyone through the headset is quiet, like they can read what’s going on in Atsumu’s mind.

He presses call.

It’s picked up in seconds, the volume loud enough to make Atsumu recoil. “Vulcan speaking! What can I do for you ?”

“This is Burning Rescue Unit 7. We’re in East Town Center.” Atsumu’s voice feels unfamiliar. “There’s a Burnish awakening we need to be contained before Mad Burnish can show up.”

“You got it ,” Vulcan laughs. “See you guys in a few !”

The call cuts off, and Atsumu’s left staring blankly at the monitor. He can still see the outline of a figure hiding away through the view of Aran’s visor. 

There’s a crack of sound in his headset. “Should I…” Aran trails off. 

Atsumu rushes to shut down the tabs on his monitor, only leaving open a tab of their vitals and a tracker of Freeze Force’s location. He has to calm himself down before they show up.

He almost doesn't notice the door to the truck creaking open, revealing Kita, standing with his arms crossed in front of him. Atsumu can’t read his expression as he approaches him slowly, setting a hand on his shoulder.

He lets out a long breath. It’s grounding.

“I’m sorry.” Kita murmurs. 

Quiet spreads throughout the truck, only the beeping from the computer in front of them and the crackling of fire outside keeping the two of them company. 

Atsumu isn’t supposed to be shaken up by his own job, damnit. He’s got a distant idea of what happens to the Burnish after they’re arrested from the little he’s heard from Osamu, and it’s never scared him before. They’re a risk to the city’s balance, so they’re sent somewhere where they can’t harm Promepolis and its citizens. 

Sakusa’s not a risk to anything. 

Sure, he’s mean to Atsumu every so often, but he’s never burned him. 

Huh.

The ground starts to shake under their feet, and he can hear the engines approaching them from all angles. Freeze Force is here.

Kita gives his shoulder a pat and jerks his head towards the truck door. You’re coming with me, the look says. 

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he stands up and brushes himself off, taking a deep breath as if he hasn’t been going through emotional whiplash for the past five minutes. He’ll be fine.

He emerges to see Vulcan standing proud and tall and and scary, seven heads taller than him next to their truck, a gun slung over his shoulder. He smiles in their direction, wide and menacing. 

“Hey, boys! What do we have here today?”

Kita starts to explain the situation, and Atsumu offers a weak salute to satisfy Vulcan’s ego before he starts to zone out. There’s a static deep-set in his ears. He knows that Kita dragged him out here to keep his reputation up, but some part of him wishes he could still be hiding in the truck.

At some point he looks up to Aran carrying the Burnish, their hands cuffed with ice. It takes everything he has not to look away. This is a job. He’s protecting the city. He’s saving people.

Right?

They’re transferred, slowly but forcefully to Vulcan’s team, and tossed roughly into a truck. He’s saving people. Vulcan tells a joke, and he laughs on cue. Kita forces a smile. He waves goodbye to them as they get back into their vehicles and drive away.

He’s still in a trance as they get back into the rescue truck, and all the way until they arrive back at the station.

Kita sends him home early. For once, he doesn’t argue. 

It’s not until he’s standing face to face with his front door does he finally feel real again, the weight of keys in his hand grounding him. He unlocks the door, stepping into their dimly lit living room. 

Sakusa’s probably hiding away, light creeping from under his closed bedroom door, and Atsumu’s almost grateful. He doesn’t think he can handle seeing him right now.

He doesn’t have the energy to do anything, really, so he just hangs up his jacket and sits down on the couch, turning on the TV to something random to try and distract him from the static that he hasn’t stopped hearing. 

In the corner of his eye, he sees Sakusa’s door creep open. Fuck. He looks up with wide eyes. 

Sakusa’s almost never in the living room past sunset, opting to head back into his room after they eat to do whatever he does in there as Atsumu stares at whatever’s on the TV at the time. It’s just how they operate, it’s fine.

Sakusa takes a seat next to him.

He looks over in shock. If there’s sound coming from the TV, it’s blocked out by now, Sakusa's presence taking his full attention.

Sakusa looks to him. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

They both look at the TV. 

“There was a news report about your unit earlier.”

Atsumu takes in a sharp breath. He doesn’t remember seeing any reporters there. He doesn't remember much at all.

“You looked shaken up.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. Sakusa’s not wrong, but the idea of admitting it out loud… scares him. He steels himself, looking in his direction. “Yeah.”

Sakusa opens his mouth to say something, but he stops himself, taking a few breaths. “Thank you,” He starts, blatantly looking forward to avoid eye contact. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

Atsumu’s quiet. Out of all the things that he could’ve heard tonight, that was the last thing he was expecting. He takes a few long seconds to think of a reply. 

“Of course,” He says, quiet. “I’m…” He takes a deep breath. Two deep breaths. “I’m glad I did.”

They fall into silence after that, the show playing in front of them acting as background noise to their thoughts.

Atsumu decides to look over at Sakusa, his face illuminated by the blue light of the TV. He’s even pretty like this, staring blankly ahead and lost in his thoughts. He wonders what it would be like to touch his cheeks. Would they be as warm as his hands?

Sakusa meets his eyes and raises an eyebrow, and his gaze snaps away. 

They spend almost another hour like that, basking in each other’s quiet company before Sakusa decides that it’s time for both of them to go to sleep. 

He sees him smile again, when he closes his door after saying goodnight, and only then, does he feel some of the static in his ears start to clear. 

Waking up the next morning, Atsumu’s still not sure how he feels. The memory of Sakusa’s face in front of the TV outweighs the memory of the Burnish awakening, and he’s grateful for that, if anything.

An unexpected chill washes over him when he gets out of bed, making him rush to his close to grab whichever hoodie he sees first. It’s rarely cold inside, anymore.

“Omi?” He calls, walking out of his room. “Can’t you make it warmer in here or something?”

There’s no response.

Sakusa’s usually awake before Atsumu goes to the station, always saying that being Burnish gives him a weird sleep schedule that he still struggles with. Atsumu thinks he just doesn’t want to admit that he’s a morning person.

The only thing he can hear is the sound of cars outside of his window, and the whisper of music playing through the wall from his neighbors.

“Omi?” He calls again.

Nothing.

The chill from a few minutes ago sinks deeper. 

Softly, he treads towards Sakusa’s door, knocking three times. Four. Five. Still, there’s no reply. 

He almost doesn’t want to open the door. Maybe if he keeps it closed, goes back to bed for a few hours, it’ll be like nothing ever happened.

In the back corner of his brain, he can hear Sakusa’s voice echoing. “I know what the Foundation is capable of if I’m found .”

He opens the door.

It’s dark. The curtains are pulled, the bed is made, the floor is clean, and it’s exactly how he remembers it. There’s not a single trace of Sakusa. Everything looks untouched, like nobody had ever lived there in the first place.

The chill reaches his heart. Oh god . 

He’s scrambling out of the bedroom, flicking the lights on in the bathroom as if he’d be hiding in the shower. Nothing. He repeats the process throughout the living room and kitchen, praying that a cabinet might hold a six-foot-tall grown man. Everything is how he left it.

There’s no way anyone could have come into his home at night, right? He’s a light sleeper after years of firefighting, and nothing gets past him. Right?

He’s dialed Komori’s number before he even realizes it, breathing heavily as he listens to the dial tone, his hand propping him up against the couch. 

“Atsumu? ”

“I—” Shit, he’s out of breath. “I don’t know where he is.”

There’s a heavy silence on the other side of the line before he hears Komori’s voice break. “What? ” 

“I woke up this morning and it— it was cold in here, and I’ve searched everywhere but I don’t know where he is.” Atsumu thinks he’s panicking, probably. “Help.”

Komori’s breathing has picked up alongside Atsumu’s. “He’s not here. I’ve been awake for a few hours, too .”

“Fuck.” Atsumu wants to throw his phone across the room. Wants this day to not exist, already. “Do you know where he’d be?” 

“No ,” Komori lets out a shaky breath. “I’ll— Fuck, I’ll keep an eye out. Keep me updated, please. I have to be at the Foundation in a few minutes. ”

“Okay,” Atsumu nods to himself. “Okay, I’ll call you later, if anything happens.”

“Thank you .” 

The call cuts off. Atsumu’s left alone. 

He has to be at the station today. Fuck. It’s one of the rare days that Ginjima’s in during the day, and if he doesn’t show up there’s going to be even more for Atsumu to worry about.

Shrugging on his jacket, he tries his hardest not to break down and cry in the middle of the doorway. 

He’s still on the verge of tears when he arrives at the station, trying to sneak in as quietly as he can. Maybe he’ll go stare at a robot for a few hours. Pretend like everything is fine.

Of course, he can’t get away with anything with their team. Kita’s the first to approach him.

“Atsumu?”

“Yeah?” He replies, turning his head in his direction and offering a thin smile.

There’s concern in his eyes as he gets closer. “Are you alright?”

Yes. Sure. I’m great. Wonderful. 

“Nah, not really.” Well. Not what he wanted to say. Damn Kita, always getting the truth out of him so easily.

“Is this because of yesterday?”

“He’s gone.” He replies, flat. “Omi’s gone.”

Kita’s expression falls.

He’s not sure if he can deal with anyone else right now, but he lets Kita rest a hand on his shoulder and leads him over to sit on their couch where Suna and Ginjima are already deep in conversation.

Suna starts to make a comment, but Ginjima talks over him. “What’s up?”

Atsumu can’t bring himself to get the words out, so he lets Kita speak for him. “He said Sakusa disappeared.”

They’re both sit still for a long moment, unsure of what to say. Suna’s the first to cut in.

“Shit.”

Atsumu lets out a small, mirthless laugh. “Yeah.”

“Hey,” Ginjima scoots closer to him. “Is there anything we can do?”

He's at a loss for what to reply. Weakly, he says, "Find Omi."

Ginjima sighs. “Is there anything feasible we can do?”

He rubs a hand down his face. “I don’t fuckin’ know. Overthrow the government, maybe.”

“Atsumu.” Kita scolds from behind him.

“Worth a try.” He folds his arms across his chest. “I’m just gonna do some work and try to keep my mind off it. Maybe he’ll show back up at some point.”

“Do you want to go home? Just in case?” Kita offers.

“I’ll—” He mulls over the idea. “I’ll probably go crazy if I’m just waitin’ there.” Kita hums in agreement, and Atsumu stands up off the couch. “Alright, I’m gonna,” He gestures over to his corner of the station. “Y’know."

They all nod, and he retreats to his area, sitting down at his computer and typing away to search for any rouge inventions that he may have sitting deep in his files. 

It’s dark outside when he comes back to himself, a half-built mech sitting in front of him and Kita’s presence looming from behind him. 

“Go home.”

He turns around in his chair. If it were any other day, he’d argue it, but today, he just nods slowly, standing up and going through the motions, waving goodbye as he gets on his bike to go home.

He doesn’t sleep that night.

There’s a somber call with Komori, a short discussion about what could possibly be happening to Sakusa. About either of them seeing if they could find a way to access the Promepolis records. 

He doesn’t sleep the next night, either. 

Osamu’s waiting for him in the station when he pulls up late the next day, chatting with Aran and Kita about something. He locks eyes with Atsumu before he even gets off his bike, sending him a look.

Get your ass over here. 

Atsumu rolls his eyes and moves towards them. His steps are shaky.

“You’re coming to our place.” Osamu states.

“Why?”

He ignores the question. “What’d you have to eat today? And yesterday.”

“You—” Atsumu turns on his heel with a huff. He goes to grab his phone off of his bike before he realizes that it’s nowhere to be seen. He must’ve left it at home. 

Fuck, he’s more tired than he thought he was.

He goes to rejoin Osamu. “How long have you been here?”

Osamu shrugs. “Eh. Since early this morning. Figured I’d catch up with everyone if I was coming to grab your ass.” He slaps the garage door, the ringing of the metal drawing everyone’s attention. “We’re headin’ out,” He announces. “Nice seein’ you guys.” He waves before turning back to Atsumu, walking them away and towards his car.

Atsumu waves as well, turning back to his brother. “Where’s Rin?”

“Oh—” Osamu unlocks his car and gets in the driver’s seat, motioning with his head for Atsumu to get in. “He’s back at our place.” 

The engine revs to life, and Osamu starts to drive towards his place. He swerves between a car or two, and Atsumu’s reminded of why he never drives with his brother. 

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me about Sakusa?” Osamu speaks up.

“I didn’t?” 

They reach a stoplight, and Osamu turns to him, his stare hard. “Yeah, you didn’t. I found out from Rin just last night. Said you looked like a corpse walkin’ around the station.”

“Fuck.” Atsumu leans back in his seat. “I’ve been out of it. I can’t stop thinkin’ about him bein’ dead. Or captured. Or—” He stops himself. “Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

The light turns green, and Osamu looks forward again. “This started as my shit to deal with, y’know. You can’t just leave me in the dark.”

It’s been months since then, and Atsumu’s reminded how this was Osamu’s suggestion in the first place. All of this, his life feels natural now, seeing Sakusa around the house or setting up plates for the two of them. 

“I know, I know,” Atsumu eventually replies. “Well, there’s not much shit to deal with at all if he’s gone.”

Osamu’s eyes slide over to him. He frowns. “You’re stressin’ yourself out.” 

The car stops, and Atsumu looks out the window to see Osamu’s apartment building standing tall. He forgets how much they pay Foundation employees, sometimes. He’s reminded now, staring at what has to be at least a hundred floors of glass windows. 

“C’mon.” Osamu steps out of the car. “Do you have anythin’ else with you?”

Atsumu shrugs. “Left my phone at home. So, no.”

“How’d you even—” Osamu shakes his head, stopping himself and locking the car. He walks away and Atsumu follows, winding through hallways and up elevators until they find themselves in his living room. 

Atsumu breathes a sigh of relief as he looks around. It’s a sharp contrast to the outside of the building, and he knows that the two of them try to keep it as cozy as possible. As many times as he’s been here, it still helps calm him down, just standing near the doorway and taking it all in.

“Hey,” Osamu’s already standing in the kitchen, halfway through washing his hands. “Wanna help me make somethin’?”

Nodding, Atsumu goes to join him, washing his hands and walking over to where he’s standing at the counter. 

Osamu pulls out some ingredients and the two of them fall into an easy rhythm. Cooking together has been something natural since they were younger, and it’s no different now than it was then.

“Wait,” Osamu looks over his shoulder at him. “Actually, when was the last time you ate?”

“Uh.” Atsumu thinks about it. “Two days ago? Maybe?” He gets a rough shove in response. “Hey!”

“Idiot.”

Atsumu shoves back, lighter, just to get back at him, and sees Suna emerge from down one of the hallways. He tilts his head up in acknowledgment and goes to approach the two of them.

“What’s happening?”

Osamu looks up at him and smiles, soft. “Onigiri. ‘Tsumu bein’ stupid. The usual.”

Suna nods, like it was a perfectly fine explanation, and then turns to walk away. “I’ll be back. Make sure you save me some, okay?”

“Got it,” Osamu calls back. 

They finish up not long after that, setting up everything on a small tray and moving to the table to sit down. Suna returns from the hall and joins them, taking a seat next to Osamu.

“I’m guessing you also haven’t slept in two days?” Osamu asks him through a mouthful of rice. 

“He definitely hasn’t.” Suna pipes in.

Atsumu grimaces, half at the accusations and half at the memory of Sakusa threatening him for talking and eating.

He diverts his eyes. “Maybe.” 

Osamu groans. “Will you fuckin’ sleep after this?”

“Fine.” He’s too tired to put up a real fight. 

The answer satisfies Osamu, and he nods. 

They finish their food with some small talk here and there, and before Atsumu knows it, he’s getting shoved into the guest bedroom by Osamu as he tosses a spare pair of clothes at him.

“If you don’t get some sleep in I’ll take you into the lab and test on you.” He threatens. 

“Hey, maybe I’ll find Omi there.” Atsumu retorts without hesitation. 

Osamu frowns, and he makes solid eye contact with him. “If I saw him there… if I see him at all… I promise I’ll tell you, okay?”

He’s taken aback by the sudden change in mood, and he can only bring himself to nod, just slightly. “Thank you.” He adds softly. 

“Alright.” He sees Osamu try and perk up, straightening out his back just a bit. “Goodnight.”

“Y’know it’s probably way too early to go to bed,” He quips.

Osamu flicks off the light in the room. “Goodnight. ” He turns around, closing the door with extra force.

Atsumu rolls his eyes at the closed door, and as much as he’d like to stay awake to spite his brother, he can feel his body ever so slowly giving out on him. He changes into the clothes that were thrown at him and lays down, finally letting himself rest. 

The stress keeps him up most of the night. At most, he gets a restless four hours, haunted by the image of Sakusa lying dead, and by the time the sun starts rising in the window, he realizes that it’s not worth trying anymore. 

When he walks out of the room, Osamu’s already sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone with a cup of coffee nestled in his hand. He glances over at him.

“The hell are you doin’ up?” 

Atsumu takes a seat next to him. “The hell are you doin’ up, huh?”

Osamu looks back at his phone. “Fair.”

They sit in silence like that for a while, the sun creeping up through the windows and Osamu tapping blankly on his phone.

“D’ya think he’s dead?” Atsumu asks, breaking the silence.

“I—" Osamu sets his phone down and wraps both of his hands around the cup, taking a slow sip. “I don’t know. He’s gotta be a resilient fucker to have made it this far, right? Why would he just disappear out of nowhere now?”

Atsumu exhales, laying his head down onto the table. “You make a far point.” He replies, muffled. 

“I know.”

It's quiet after that, nothing but the two of them watching the sunrise fully until the room is fully lit and Osamu is finished with his coffee. 

“I think I should head home.” He doesn’t look at Osamu, but he can see him nod and stand up in the corner of his eye, going to set his cup down in the sink before looking back at him.

“Want any onigiri? There’s a few left.” He calls.

“Sure. Why not.” Atsumu stands up to join him, taking a moment to stretch his arms above him in an attempt to wake himself up. 

He sees him put a few onigiris in a bag, sealing it shut and tossing it roughly in his direction.

“Hey—!” He yelps, barely grabbing onto the bag. Osamu’s already walking away from him, going to stand near his entryway.

Osamu unlocks the door and ushers them both out, navigating back down the complicated hallways that he can’t keep track of until they’re back at his car. 

They’re both tired on the drive, obvious in the stillness between them, and Osamu sticks his tongue out at him as he drives away from Atsumu’s apartment building, leaving him on the curb.

He steps inside of his apartment expecting it to be empty. To be quiet, just like it has been the past few days.  

Instead, Sakusa is lounging on the couch, a phone— Atsumu’s phone— in his hands as he scrolls through it. He looks up to Atsumu.

“Oh. You’re back.”

He takes two steps back, reopens the door behind him, and walks out. There’s no way there is real. There is no way—

The door creaks open. Sakusa peeks his head out. “What’s your problem?”

“What’s my —?” Atsumu pushes past him back into their apartment, slamming the door shut after the both of them. “You’re my problem!” 

Sakusa takes a few steps back at his sudden aggression, eyes widening slightly. He starts to open his mouth to argue, but Atsumu doesn’t stop. 

“You told me you knew what the foundation could do!” He points a finger at him, accusing. “And you disappeared for three days!” 

“Listen—”

“It’s my goddamn responsibility to make sure that you don’t end up dead!”

Sakusa breaks their eye contact, guilty. “I know,” He whispers. 

He’s pacing now, running a hand through his hair and trying to get himself back in control. He looks over at him. Sakusa looks up. “What were you thinking?” He asks, quiet.

“Atsumu, please—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It slips out of Atsumu’s mouth, choked, and he wonders if he’s actually about to cry right now. Absolutely not.

“Will you let me talk now?” Sakusa says, crossing his arms over his chest. He sounds annoyed, but the look on his face is gentler than usual.

“I think—” Atsumu takes a deep breath. “I think I need a minute.” 

Sakusa pauses then nods, saying a quiet “Okay,” under his breath.

Atsumu walks to his bedroom, taking a moment to rest his hand on the door before turning around to fake him. “I’ll… I’ll be back out in a few.”

He shuts his door, going to lay flat on his bed. He sets both of his hands up behind his head to rest and stares at the texture of the ceiling, trying his hardest to think about nothing. 

Sakusa’s lounging stiffly on the couch when he finally emerges almost an hour later. It’s still bright outside, light shining through the windows and onto him. He seems to be intensely observing his fingernails, gently scratching near his cuticles. He looks up when Atsumu’s door opens, nodding at him in acknowledgment. 

Nodding back, Atsumu heads to the couch, slowly taking a seat on the other end. They sit in silence for a few minutes, Sakusa still fiddling with his hands and Atsumu staring out of the window.

Sakusa’s the first to speak.

“Do you know anything about the Burnish? Burnish as people, not just the fire.” He asks quietly. 

Atsumu remembers stories from after the Great World Blaze, about how education took a toll. He can recite formulas that he and Osamu used to study together, the history of the world before it set fire, and the chemical formulas required to create the ice that they use against Burnish attacks. He can’t recall a single mention of the Burnish as people.

“I don’t,” He admits.

Sakusa hums, looking over to a rogue photo on the wall that Atsumu distantly remembers hanging up years ago. It’s a picture from his first day on the team, holding up his jacket in awe as Aran wraps him in a tight hug. Now, after the stress of the last few days, he misses the feelings of those moments.

“It’s like there’s a voice in the back of your head,” Sakusa starts tentatively, looking back at Atsumu. “It doesn’t stop. I’ve been hearing it since my awakening a few years ago.” His voice is shaky. “It wants you to burn.”

A pink and blue flame sprouts from his hands, and he stares at it softly while he cradles it close to his chest. Atsumu’s eyes light up in awe. It always amazes him to see Sakusa use his Burnish power. The flames are prettier when they aren’t attacking him, when they’re held gently in Sakusa’s hands.

“A lot of us want to destroy everything. I don't want to be like that.” He takes a few breaths. “But there’s only so long we can go without needing to burn and I didn’t…”

He trails off, and Atsumu focuses in on the way the light of the fire reflects off Sakusa’s face. It brings out the high of his cheekbones and makes his eyes look almost purple.

“If you keep your fire contained for too long, it explodes. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

A breach catches in Atsumu’s throat. He doesn’t know what to say. It’s the most he’s heard Sakusa in one sitting, his voice holding a softness that he didn’t know he was capable of.

“Can I hold it?” He finally comes up with, letting his eyes fall onto the fire still sitting in Sakusa’s hands.

The fire takes on a white-blue tone, and Sakusa inches over to Atsumu’s cupped hands, slowly transferring it towards him. It floats there, almost staring up at him.

There’s no good way to describe how it feels— like nothing and everything at once glowing in his palms.

“It’s not hot.” He observes.

Sakusa’s lips turn up in a barely noticeable smile. “It’s something a friend taught me a while back.”

They sit in a comfortable silence for a while as Atsumu gently plays with the fire in his hands. It doesn’t mold to his touch in the way that it does for a Burnish, but it bounces slightly as he moves it from hand to hand in a way that he can’t help but smile at.

“Thank you,” Atsumu says after a few minutes, extending his hands out for Sakusa to take back the flame. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”

Sakusa grazes their hands, taking the flame back and waving a hand over it to make it dissipate. He nods at Atsumu. “I’m sorry for disappearing.”

“It’s okay. I think… I think I understand it now.” Atsumu exhales. “But you better tell me next time.”

“I will, I will.” 

It sounds soft. Fond, maybe. 

The TV is running in the background as he works on breakfast for the two of them. There’s a focus on another Burning Rescue unit he can’t bother to look up for, and the mention of the Mad Burnish leader being captured. He tunes most of it once the Governor’s voice starts running. The more he hears about the Foundation, the less he can stand to listen to his voice.

They’ve been spending almost all of their time together since Sakusa returned. Atsumu’s been nervous that he’ll disappear into thin air, and he can tell that Sakusa still feels slightly guilty about it, and this is their solution. 

Sakusa’s been eyeing the TV for the past ten minutes, curled up in a corner of the couch, and Atsumu perks up at the idea of him showing interest in something. The face of the Burnish leader flashes for a moment, and his expression changes slightly, into something unreadable. 

“Did’ya know him?”

Sakusa startles. “Huh? Oh— We met once.”

Atsumu hums in response, and Sakusa doesn’t offer up any more information, turning back to the TV. He leaves it at that. 

The report finishes, and Sakusa comes to join him in the kitchen, pouring them both coffee as Atsumu sets down two plates. 

“Wanna do somethin’ today?” Atsumu asks almost immediately after they finish eating. 

Sakusa replies without hesitation, not looking at him. “No.”

“Perfect.” Atsumu grins, undeterred. “When was the last time you went outside?”

The question gets Sakusa’s attention, and he’s now glaring at Atsumu with a mug gripped tightly in his hand. “No .” He repeats, firm. “And technically, it was around a week ago. So I don’t need to go out again.”

“You’re no fun.” Atsumu pouts. “What if you have like— a sunlight deficiency?”

“I don’t. You have windows.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes, standing up and taking the dishes over to the sink.

“Do you have any ideas? Indoors ideas.” Sakusa speaks up from behind him.

Atsumu whips around so fast he almost drops the plates in his hand. He grins over to Sakusa. “Actually?’

“Don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t, I promise.” He goes back to take a seat next to Sakusa, and rests his chin on his hand, thinking. “I might have a game console sitting around here somewhere?” He suggests.

“You what ?”

He recoils at the sudden change in tone, hesitantly glancing over at Sakusa. “Yeah…?”

“I," Sakusa draws out, looking at him intensely, "have been stuck here for months with nothing but Motoya’s shitty laptop, and you’re telling me there’s a fucking game console ?”

“Oh.” Oops.

Sakusa glares at him. “I hate you. Go find it.” He shoves a hand into Atsumu’s shoulder. 

Atsumu huffs, going to search around until he finally finds it hiding away in the top corner of his closet, buried under a few old sweaters and notebooks filled with schemantics that he forgot existed. 

It’s an ancient Wii that he and Osamu used to share in high school, and Atsumu distinctly remembers them getting into a week-long battle over it, Osamu eventually caving and handing it over.

He brushes off some of the dust and grabs some games and controllers sitting next to it, eventually returning to where Sakusa has moved to the couch in the living room.

“I am going to fucking destroy you,” Sakusa says as soon as he lays eyes on him.

Atsumu cringes, holding a weak thumbs-up. “Good to know.”

He sets everything up, fishing behind the TV to plug everything in and trying to avoid Sakusa’s heavy gaze that he can feel on the back of his neck. He passes a controller back behind him and grabs one for himself settling down next to Sakusa.

An idea pops into his head. His eyes slide to Sakusa.

“Hear me out.”

Sakusa’s head snaps to him, and it’s hard to decide whether to laugh or to cower from the gaze that he sends Atsumu.

“If I win, I get to take you outside. Go see nature. Something.”

Sakusa looks down as his hands clench around the control, then relax, and he looks back up at Atsumu.

“Deal.”

Twenty intense minutes later, Atsumu wins. 

He doesn't rub it in at the distant fear of third degree burns, but Sakusa's scowl doesn't hold too much malice, which he's grateful for. Hours later, he hands him back the controller with a heated imprint of his hands, and Atsumu feels the warmth in his bones.

He avoids visiting Osamu in the labs as much as possible.

Even before Sakusa became a part of his life, he always felt like he was being watched at every step inside the Foresight building. It feels like Foresight himself decided to come down from his top-floor office to stare him down until he walks out the door.

It’s no different now, if not worse. Each time he makes fleeting eye contact with a guard, he feels as if they’re going to just know. He tries his best to ease his posture and look calm as he walks up to the front desk.

How Osamu does this is still a mystery to him. Every day, he goes underground to take apart the fundamentals of the world and returns home like nothing ever happened.

It’s been three days since Atsumu’s heard a word from him.

Atsumu remembers the mention of a breakthrough a while back, but still, it wouldn’t kill to call back his own brother. He’s called almost twenty times now, infiltrated his apartment twice, and there’s still no sign of him. 

It’s the same situation for Suna, and the only reason he isn’t standing by Atsumu right now is because he’s family.

“I’m here for Miya Osamu,” He says, flashing his ID at the receptionist. 

She scrutinizes him long enough to make him squirm, and he shoves his ID back into his pocket as she types away at the computer. She points behind her into a hallway.

“You know where to go. Don’t touch anything.”

Mumbling something to appease her, he resists the urge to start running to where he’s going. God, he hates how hard it is to navigate this place.

After a long almost fifteen minutes, he’s greeted by the front doors of the lab, almost comically large with one cracked open just enough for him to see in.

He’d rather not make himself known just yet, so he leans against the shut half of the door and watches while they go through an experiment. He’s pretty sure most of the scientists know him by association, so he doubts there’ll be any trouble with him showing up unannounced. 

In the center of the lab, he spots a head of gray hair running around, and he breathes out a long sigh of relief. At least he’s alive.

His attention is drawn to the center of the room, where there’s a person sprawled out on a device. Nearby, another scientist says something to Osamu that he can’t make out, and he nods, pressing down on one of the buttons in front of him. 

The device starts spinning, gathering speed until there’s nothing but a blur left, and fire, Burnish fire, starts to light up the center of the room. There’s yelling, and another scientist in the room says something that he doesn’t register.

After a minute, the device slows to a stop, and from where he’s standing he can see the edges of the person’s hands graying until they fall away into nothingness, their arms slowly dissipating away, like ash into the wind. 

It hits him.

The Burnish is dying. 

There’s a difference between hearing Osamu mention experiments without detail and watching it second by second in-person. There’s a massive difference between sitting at a park and talking about their jobs and watching his brother press a button that can kill on commands.

His feet have carried him halfway down the hallway, out of the building, before he can even slightly come back to himself. There are voices that sound behind him, a hand on his shoulder, but he can’t bring himself to stop. 

He needs out. He needs to see Sakusa. 

It’s a messy ordeal, throwing himself onto his bike and speeding down the street, set on getting home as fast as possible. Fuck. Running out like that probably raised some red flags. Well, he can face the Governor’s wrath later. 

When the bike skids to a stop, and he’s already off of it, scrambling upstairs and towards his apartment.

He doesn’t realize just how loud he slammed the door open until he sees Sakusa pop his head out of his room. He fixes him with a dead stare. “What are you worked up about?”

Fifteen minutes of driving. He had fifteen minutes to sort out his thoughts, but now that Sakusa is here, alive, standing in front of him, he can’t figure any of it out.

It’s out of his mouth before he processes it. “You know I love you, right?”

Sakusa’s face goes slack. 

“What?”

“I—” He’s out of breath. “I’m in love with you. I think.”

“Oh.” Sakusa’s face is blank, and Atsumu can feel himself start to get antsy. “Okay.”

He’s quiet after that.

Atsumu braces himself for a gentle rejection, for the fact that he probably just made the worst possible decision he could make, and it’s going to be an awkward few months before they can get back into their groove again. Maybe he should have just stayed at the lab. Waited for his brother.

“I think,” Sakusa furrows his brows. “I like you too.” He stops. “Love you, too.”

“Wait.” Atsumu whispers, “Really?”

Just like that, the moment is broken, and Sakusa frowns at him. He walks over briskly, setting his hands down on Atsumu’s shoulders. He looks him dead in the eyes. “Really .”

Atsumu’s eyes widen. He wonders if Sakusa can feel how fast his pulse is from where his hands are. That’d be embarrassing. 

They stand still like that, eyes locked, for longer than he can count. It's surprisingly comfortable.

“Can I—?” He hovers a hand near Sakusa’s cheek. He nods.

Sakusa’s lips are warm. Sakusa's lips feel like home.

Sure, they’ve brushed hands a few times, and he’s always surprised by the warmth emitting from him, but now, this close, it’s something entirely different. Maybe they could stay like this forever. 

Taking a breath, Sakusa separates from him, giving Atsumu’s heart rate a chance to slow down.

“You’re an asshole,” He says, looking into Atsumu’s eyes.

Atsumu resists the urge to defend himself and leans up to kiss Sakusa again. “Takes on to know one.”

Sakusa smiles.

They eventually end up on the couch, Sakusa’s head resting on Atsumu’s lap as he lets his fingers card through curls, watching Sakusa’s eyes slowly flutter shut.

His phone rings.

He plans on hanging it up, maybe throwing it out the window, but he sees Osamu’s contact name and decides against it. 

Then he remembers what he saw in the lab, the Burnish dying, and he gently slides out from under Sakusa’s head, trying not to wake him up as he walks into his room and closes the door.

“Hey,” Osamu greets.

Atsumu sees ash. Sees red. “What the fuck were you doing?” Atsumu shouts, finally letting everything hit him.

“‘Tsumu—”

“Did you finally get your fuckin’ breakthrough?”

“Please,” There's a frustrated noise. “This was our last resort.”

“Your last resort?” He bites, “Your last resort was fucking murder?”

“I’ve told you all of this before!” Osamu retaliates. “Why are you freaking out now?”

“Because you’re always fucking vague about it!” He’s standing up now, pacing around the living room in a weak attempt to let out all the frustration boiling in him. “Because you’ve never said that it was just killing people for— for what?”

“‘Tsumu, please. We’re trying to save the world here .”

Atsumu scoffs. “How? How the hell are you supposed to save the world like that?”

“The Burnish they’re— there’s a unique power source that they have, and the only way to access that is …”

“By killing them.” He finishes.

Osamu doesn’t say anything in return.

“You’re the one who asked me to take in Omi in the first place! I thought you cared!!”

“Oh, so you cared before you met Sakusa?” Osamu hisses.

Atsumu wants to throw his phone. Watch it shatter. Maybe ask Sakusa to burn it to see what happens. 

“Fuck you.” Go save the world then, asshole.” Atsumu spits back, pressing the end call button and throwing his phone onto his bed. He wants to scream.

He opens the door back into the living room to see Sakusa, an arm slung over the couch and head turned in his direction, sending him a concerned look.

Are you okay?

“God ,” Atsumu groans, “Fuck this.” He makes a beeline back to the couch, sitting back next to Sakusa and trying his hardest not to break down. 

Sakusa leads him so Atsumu’s head is resting in his lap, and he lets himself drift off to sleep just this once.

It’s mid-afternoon. An engine sounds outside of their window.

Atsumu starts to hear the familiar ringing of metal against concrete, and his blood runs cold. He runs to peek out of the window facing the street, greeted by three Freeze Force vehicles parked downstairs.

“Omi,” He whispers, turning back, “I think you need to hide.”

Sakusa’s eyes widen. “Fuck.” Atsumu can hear his breathing speed up, just barely. “They have heat sensors. They’re going to know I’m here.”

A recent memory pops into his head. “The fire thing.” He blurts.

“What?”

“The— the thing when I held your fire. It wasn’t hot then.”

Sakusa looks conflicted. “I doubt that would work.”

“Please,” It’s almost embarrassing how desperate he sounds. “Try something. Anything.” He grabs onto Sakusa’s hand gently. “We’ve made it this far."

“Okay,” Sakusa nods. “Okay.” He rubs a thumb over Atsumu’s hand, and he feels his heart clench as Sakusa’s figure disappears behind his door, and the clanging of metal gets closer and closer. 

Fuck. It’s going to be fine. They’re going to be fine.

Knocks echo through his apartment. “Freeze Force!”

“I’m comin, I’m comin’!” Atsumu shouts in response. He’d rather not have them break open his door today.

He jogs over, takes a few deep breaths, and opens the door.

Vulcan’s standing there in all of his glory, three officers positioned behind him. He grins at Atsumu. It sends chills down his spine.

“Hello, Miya.” He pushes past Atsumu into the apartment. He scans the living room before looking back at him, standing stuck near the doorway. “Y’know, I saw you hanging around the Foundation the other day, isn’t that neat?”

Oh. So that’s how they got him.

“You did?” He replies, trying his hardest to sound innocent.

“Yup,” Vulcan steps closer, staring him down. “You took quite the run out of there. Seemed urgent.”

“Had an emergency back at the station that they needed me to help with.” It’s not convincing with the shake of his voice, but Vulcan seems to take it.

“Interesting.” Vulcan looks to the other officers with him and tilts his head, gesturing them inside with them. “Mind if we look around?”

By the time Atsumu nods, they’re already prodding around, shoving open cabinets and looking under chairs. He forces his shoulders not to tense as one of them slams open Sakusa’s room, taking a tentative step inside. 

A hand lands on Atsumu’s back. In his peripheral vision, Vulcan leans down close to his ear and whispers, “You saw that Burnish die yesterday, didn’t you?”

Now, Atsumu tenses. He’s a bad liar, always has been, and if he makes the wrong step here it could be his last. 

He nods. 

Vulcan moves in front of him, and the smile he gives him is all teeth. “Then why’d you run?” 

The officer in Sakusa’s room emerges, and Vulcan takes his attention off Atsumu for just a moment. 

“No sign of anything in there. It’s clean, and the heat signature is pretty much solid the whole way through,” He says. The other officers appear alongside him, nodding in agreement. 

What the fuck.

“Well.” Vulcan’s expression has less malice when he faces Atsumu again. “Guess you’re good to go.”

Atsumu uses the lapse into silence to try and defend himself. Feed Freeze Force’s ego.

“Vulcan, y’know how soft we are at Burning Rescue. I just wasn’t used to seein’ stuff like that. Freaked me out.”

Vulcan raises his eyebrow, staring him down for a long moment before he grins, nowhere near as menacing as it was, and he gives Atsumu another strong clap on the back. “You’re a good kid, Miya. If you ever get tired of all that softness, there’s always a place for you in Freeze Force.”

Atsumu cringes at the thought. He forces a laugh that feels heavy in his throat. “You got it, sir.”

“Alright,” Vulcan starts, heading back to the entryway with the other officers. “Sorry for intruding.” He adjusts the gun on his back again, and waves in Atsumu’s direction. “We’ll see you around.”

“See you around,” Atsumu parrots, almost in a daze.

The door opens, then shuts, and just like that, they’re gone.

Metal footsteps slowly dissipate away as they head back to their vehicles, and the sound of engines starts, then slowly quiets. 

He’s left alone.

Sakusa’s figure eventually creeps into his vision, looking about as shaken as Atsumu feels. It almost doesn’t feel real, seeing him there.

“They didn’t—'' Atsumu breathes out a sigh of relief and stands up, going the short distance to where Sakusa’s standing to cup his face in his hands. “You’re still here!”

Sakusa breaks out in a small smile, laying a hand over Atsumu’s. “I’m still here.” He repeats, softly.

Kiyoomi blinks awake with a weight against his chest. 

He almost panics, heat building up in his hands to defend himself, before he lays eyes on blonde hair. 

Oh. 

Atsumu’s sound asleep, an arm slung across Kiyoomi and his mouth slightly open. He better not fucking drool on him. 

Through the window, it looks like the sun is long past risen, and the rest of the city is already awake. The action from yesterday must have tired them both out. 

He jostles Atsumu’s shoulder lightly. 

“Hey.”

Atsumu wakes up almost immediately, sitting up off of him and looking him in the eyes. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” Kiyoomi answers, sitting up with him. “I just think we slept in.”

“Shit,” Atsumu reaches for his phone to check the time. Kiyoomi can see the 12:34 plastered on the screen from where he’s sitting. “Oops.”

“Do you need to be at Burning Rescue?”

Atsumu flops back down in bed, looking up at the ceiling. “Nah.” He looks up to Kiyoomi. “I just don’t like wasting the day.”

Kiyoomi makes a noise of agreement. “There’s bound to be something you can do.”

“Wait. Omi-omi.” Atsumu jolts back upright, a fire in his eyes. “Any chance I can redeem my win?”

“Really? After yesterday?” Kiyoomi crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Please, ” Atsumu draws out with a whine, standing up. “Trust me on this.” 

Kiyoomi doesn’t want to stand up, but he decides to humor him, stretching out a bit before standing up and walking to the bathroom to go through his morning routine. 

He’s got his head halfway into the sink, rinsing off the soap on his face, when Atsumu leans against the doorframe, a grin on his face.

“So is this you trusting me?”

Kiyoomi sighs, patting his face dry and turning to face Atsumu. “Fine. But we’re only going after it’s dark out, okay?” 

Atsumu nods, undeterred, hopping into the living room to go busy himself with something else.

“And if anything happens, I can protect myself, okay?” He calls after him.

There’s a shout in response, and Kiyoomi shakes his head, going to join him.

They don’t do much after that, idling around until the sun starts to set, and Atsumu starts to nudge at his shoulder, telling him to put on good clothes as he packs up a bag with a few things away from Kiyoomi’s sight.

Stepping outside feels different.

It’s not as frantic as it was weeks ago, trying to sneak out the front door as fast as possible before his body gives out on him.

Standing with Atsumu outside of the doorframe shouldn’t feel as liberating as it does, but he takes a deep breath of air, fresh air, and allows himself to bask in the moment just once.

“You’ve never ridden on my motorcycle before, have you?” Atsumu says, leading them down the stairs and making sure to try and guard Kiyoomi with his body. It doesn’t work well, seeing as Atsumu’s shorter, but he appreciates the thought.

“I haven’t.”

Atsumu smiles up at him. 

The motorcycle isn’t as grand as Atsumu makes it out to be. Nowhere near that.

“That’s it?”

Atsumu pouts and throws a leg over the bike, hitting the space on the seat behind him as an indication for Kiyoomi to get on. 

“I’ll have you know that she’s a great bike!” He tries to defend before Kiyoomi wraps his arms around Atsumu’s middle and leans in to set his chin on his shoulder.

“Drive .”

Atsumu tenses, then relaxes into him, and Kiyoomi smiles into his shoulder. 

It’s been so long since he’s seen the city like this. Unthreatening, lit up by the streetlamps while people bustling around in the nightlife. 

The city’s less scary, like this. 

It reminds him of when he was younger, going on family road trips with Motoya, watching the buildings speed past and counting fire hydrants until they both dozed off, waking up in a different world of trees and life that they were both unfamiliar to. 

Slowly, their surroundings morph from skyscrapers to pine trees, and the pavement underneath them becomes dirt. The light behind them dissipates, leaving them with only the moonlight above them. 

The bike slows to a stop. Atsumu gently pries off Kiyoomi’s hands and gently elbows back at him, standing up to collect their things. Kiyoomi gets off and goes to join him, taking in their surroundings.

“It’s an ice lake!” Atsumu says proudly, gesturing into the open area.

He’s not wrong. There’s an open area surrounded by trees and mountains, with the moon sitting perfectly in the center of the clearing. It’s surprising that there’s an area like this near Promepolis, with the desert nearby.

Atsumu’s already wandering about the lake, sliding around with as much grace as a firefighter can muster. 

He looks at Sakusa and smiles. “You can try skating, if you want. It works with your shoes on.” He holds up a foot to try and prove his point and falters, falling back onto the ice. He sits back up to stare at Kiyoomi. “Don’t you—!” 

He’s already laughing, hiding his face in his hands as Atsumu struggles to get himself standing again.

“I might melt the ice if I try.” Kiyoomi says, straightening himself up. He down at his feet and mentally curses his distorted internal body temperature.

Atsumu frowns. “You can try?”

He inches himself towards the ice, creeping his foot closer and closer to the border where the dirt ends and the ice begins. The one foot is fine, but by the time he goes to put down a second foot, there’s already a pool of water where his first foot was.

“Well.”

“Here—” Atsumu heads back over to him, back onto the ground and over to the bike, grabbing what looks like a blanket from the back. He lays it down right in the dirt before the ice starts, and sits down. “Let’s look at the stars.”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and sits down next to him. They both look up into the sky above the clearing.  “Do you know anything about them?”

“The stars?” Atsumu asks.

Kiyoomi shrugs. “The galaxy in general.”

“I don’t.” He looks at Kiyoomi. “Do you?”

“Someone told me once,” He starts, looking up. “That the Burnish’s fire could possibly be from up there. Somewhere.”

Atsumu’s quiet. He stares up at the stars, hands lodged in the dirt behind him and feet just barely perched up on the ice. In these moments, he’s more beautiful than he thinks he is, the moonlight accenting all the small details on his face. 

“Hey, Omi?” 

Kiyoomi’s startled out of his thoughts. Atsumu’s staring at him, a hint of wonder in his eyes.

“Do you ever wonder if we could save the world?”

He laughs, soft. “People like us aren’t built to save the world.”

Atsumu scoots over, setting a hand over his and leaning against his shoulder. “Maybe one day.” 

Somewhere, in the sky above them, a comet falls.

A new day begins.