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Atsumu watched Kiyoomi fidget where they stood on the porch landing. Perhaps he knew what Atsumu brought them out there for.
“Omi—”
“Atsu—”
Inside the Miya family home, laughter and voices filtered out into the still night. It provided the warmth Atsumu lacked inside himself. Everyone was home for the holidays, celebrating. It was a small party before Christmas. Too bad Atsumu was going to ruin it.
“Can I go first?” Kiyoomi asked.
Atsumu nodded, swallowing thickly. However, when Kiyoomi dropped down on one knee, his entire brain whited out.
“Miya Atsumu, you make me the happiest man in the world. Will you marry me?”
XXX
The slam of a volleyball hitting the floor echoed in the empty gym. Only one person ever dared stay into the dead hours of the night. Atsumu seemed to somehow always lose track of time.
He kept fucking up his new serve during practice. This could be the difference between victory or defeat in a match. If only he could get it right.
When it once again landed out of bounds, Atsumu grunted in frustration.
Beads of sweat trickled down his face, and he was exhausted. But he had to perfect it. Keep pushing himself. He had to prove himself. Volleyball was the only thing that he could focus on anymore. It kept him grounded.
If he went home, Atsumu feared he would end up lashing out again. He needed to get this right tonight.
Another.
Slap!
“Gah!” He clutched his head, pulling on his hair.
“Miya, what are you doing?”
Snapping around, he saw Sakusa watching him by the doorway.
“What’re ya doin’ here, Omi-kun?”
He pushed off the wall and walked forward. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’m practicin’, what does it look like?” He gestured to the numerous volleyballs scattered on the gym floor.
“Like you’re trying to work yourself to death.”
Atsumu looked at him blankly, volleyball held in his hands. “Maybe I am.”
XXX
Atsumu grew up in small-town, rural Japan. It was one of those communities where everyone knew everyone—who they were, what they did, and formed their own opinions. But that was the thing about those places. People talked. And oh, did they love to talk about the Miya twins.
They say any kind of publicity is good publicity, and Atsumu pretended that this was a motto that he lived by. When the locals whispered behind their hands when he walked by, it didn’t affect him like it used to. He knew what they were saying.
It was no secret that Miya Atsumu had problems. He’d always been a bit… different. At least, that’s what he’d been led to believe. Everyone knew he attended therapy, there were no secrets here. And it was not an uncommon occurrence to see Miya Atsumu walking alone late at night when the town slept.
Atsumu was self-aware of how he was viewed.
“Miya Osamu’s crazy twin brother.”
“It’s a shame about that Miya boy.”
“He had so much potential.”
“Champagne problems.”
It only took a few too many outbursts on the volleyball court to earn him the title of crazy. Was that what all those thoughts in his head meant? Did no one see that he was the only one trying here?
Osamu told him to ignore them, but when they played on repeat in his mind, the best he could do was pretend to tune them out.
XXX
“Miya, you’re in the tabloids again,” the team’s PR manager told him, throwing the magazine on the table in front of him.
Seems they caught his drunken escapades downtown. He wasn’t even doing anything bad. It was just karaoke with friends. The pictures looked less than flattering though.
“What do ya want me to do ‘bout it? I ain’t doin’ anything illegal.”
“You need to clean up your act.”
Atsumu balked, “What act?! They like pickin’ on me and takin’ things outta context!”
“You’re an easy target. Fix it. The Black Jackals don’t need any more backlash after the ganguro debacle.”
“That was total bullshit, and everyone knows it! Shouyou-kun’s hair is naturally orange, and he lived in fuckin’ Brazil for two years!” The whole thing was ridiculous. People were up in arms about the color of his hair.
“Image is everything, Miya.”
XXX
The end of the volleyball season banquet was always a lively affair. Sponsors and players alike mingled together in fancy attire. It was never Atsumu’s favorite event, but this year he had Kiyoomi.
“Atsumu, dance with me?” he held out a hand. The shimmering light of the chandeliers reflected in his deep, emerald green eyes.
Atsumu smiled and said, “Of course, Omi.”
For a while, Atsumu was swept up in the moment. Twirling on the marble floor, he laughed when Kiyoomi dipped him, mirth in his eyes.
The illusion shattered at the sight of spectators. They whispered amongst each other, watching them.
“Image is everything, Miya.”
“It’s a shame about that Miya boy.”
Atsumu was an image of shame, tainting all that he touched. Kiyoomi’s smile fell as Atsumu dropped his hand.
“Atsumu?”
He shook his head and walked off the dance floor, leaving Kiyoomi behind.
XXX
Osaka wasn’t much better than Hyogo. The gossip there traveled far and wide, especially since he became a professional athlete. It was like everyone was just dying to catch him doing something he shouldn’t.
After the first time he made headlines for merely making an ass of himself at a fan meet, he hid in his apartment for days. So what if he was a clumsy bastard in everyday life? And he didn’t mean to yell at that girl, but she was being rude to Bokuto. No one should be rude to Bokuto. Or anyone on his team for that matter.
Out in the crowds of Osaka, Atsumu could blend into the sea of faceless people. With his hood pulled up and a scarf around his neck, no one would recognize him. There, he was a nobody. It should bring him comfort—not being stared at, but what if he still wanted to be someone. To mean something to another person as Atsumu. Not just the volleyball player or Miya Osamu’s crazy twin brother. Could he just be Atsumu? Without any other labels attached?
Perhaps volleyball was his only calling.
“He had so much potential.”
“Champagne problems.”
XXX
“Miya.”
Atsumu closed his locker and turned to Sakusa who was fidgeting with his coat zipper. “What’s up, Omi-kun?”
Meeting his eyes, Sakusa looked determined despite his nervous ticks. “I like you. Go on a date with me.”
Atsumu blinked. He must have misheard him. “What? You want to go on a date… with me?” He pointed to himself and was flabbergasted when Sakusa nodded. “But why?!”
“I like you, Atsumu.”
XXX
Despite the warning, Atsumu made it on the front page of the tabloids again. This time he even dragged Kiyoomi into it.
It was stupid. He was jealous, irrational. But Kiyoomi had been so secretive. What was he supposed to think? He skirted around the questions every time Atsumu asked. So when he had another one of his little meetings, Atsumu followed him.
He felt vindicated when he saw Kiyoomi sitting with a beautiful woman. He wasn’t crazy after all. But that only lasted until he realized that oh he was right. His heart dropped into his stomach, burning in the acid until there was nothing left but rage.
He marched over, and Kiyoomi’s shocked face only served to validate his suspicions further. Atsumu was blind to everything except the man that broke his heart. Screaming at Kiyoomi, he couldn’t hear what he was trying to say. He slapped away the hand reaching out to him and threw the drink on the table in his face.
Kiyoomi stood up, drenched in what was thankfully only water, and grabbed Atsumu by the shoulders. “She’s my cousin! Motoya’s sister!”
Oh.
“Miya Osamu’s crazy twin brother.”
Atsumu looked at Kiyoomi’s dripping hair through blurred vision. “Omi,” he hiccupped. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He broke down there in the middle of a public café.
Kiyoomi embraced him, and Atsumu didn’t care about the cold wetness seeping into his own shirt as he clung to Kiyoomi. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have been acting so suspicious.”
The three of them quickly left when Komori’s sister informed them that they had an audience. As it turned out, she owned a cabin in Hokkaido, and Kiyoomi was working out details to rent it for Atsumu’s birthday. Hokkaido is beautiful in October so he’s heard. Atsumu loved fall.
He felt like the world’s biggest fool.
“Champagne problems.”
XXX
“Miya Atsumu, you make me the happiest man in the world. Will you marry me?”
Atsumu’s hands trembled as he looked into Kiyoomi’s eyes and saw nothing but adoration. He knew that ring. It belonged to Kiyoomi’s mother. And he wanted to give it to Atsumu.
Atsumu didn’t deserve it.
“Omi… I can’t.”
Kiyoomi’s expression fell. “What? Wh-why?” He remained kneeling on the ground, frozen in place.
“Ya deserve better. I was comin’ out here to break up with ya.”
“What are you talking about?” He rose and stepped towards Atsumu. “I love you. I don’t want anyone else.”
Stepping out of his reach, Atsumu said, “You’ll find someone better. Someone who won’t bring ya all these problems. I’m a mess, Omi.” He gestured to himself. “I know ya hear what they say ‘bout me. Ya don’t need that. Thank ya for lovin’ me, but this is goodbye.”
Kiyoomi’s shocked, tear-stained face was the last sight Atsumu saw before he walked down the stairs and into the night.
Hurting Kiyoomi wasn’t his intention, but it was unavoidable. He’d thank Atsumu in the long run when he’s celebrating his wedding with the perfect person. A person who wasn’t Atsumu.
Atsumu booked the last train to Osaka for a reason. He couldn’t face everyone after that. He ran away because he’s a coward. The offer from France still remained unanswered in his e-mails. Sometimes leaving was the best option—for everyone.
XXX
Atsumu stood in the middle of a field back home in Hyogo. People left lingering glances at him when he walked hand in hand with Kiyoomi, but he wasn’t afraid—not with Kiyoomi with him.
Bathing in the twilight sky, Atsumu breathed in relief. The city didn’t offer many escapes. That’s what the grass plains under the night sky were. A place where he could let his mind wander, free of any burdens bared on his shoulders. Free of the criticism and thoughts that haunted him.
“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi walked to his side and cupped his cheek. “I love you.”
Atsumu’s heart studdered, stopped, and restarted in a matter of seconds. Smiling, he said, “I love ya too, Omi.”
Kiyoomi leaned in, kissing him. Miya Atsumu was loved.
Atsumu may not be the most loved person in Japan, but maybe being loved by Sakusa Kiyoomi was enough.
XXX
Sometimes Atsumu thought about how normal life would be if he wasn’t like this. Did the medication even help at all when he still felt like this?
What was normal?
Osamu was normal. He didn’t have to go to therapy. He didn’t second guess himself at every turn. He had other skills to fall back on. How was it that he could just completely change gears like he did?
Atsumu didn’t have other skills. Volleyball had bound him to the gym floors his entire life. It shackled him, but he clung to it anyway. That was his only salvation, so he played.
The gift of volleyball was not bestowed on him like some people seemed to think. Osamu was always the one it came naturally to while Atsumu struggled to keep up. He became the best, but at what cost? His sanity? Perhaps the dorms were just a madhouse designed to keep him contained.
But those were just champagne problems—minor details in the grand scheme of things, brushed off like dust.
Maybe it was the universe's way of laughing at him that he didn’t even hold the title for long. No, someone better always came along. So what was he? Second best?
“He had so much potential.”
Well, he was used to being second best at everything anyway.
“Champagne problems.”
XXX
“Omi!” Atsumu ran into Kiyoomi’s open arms.
He laughed, embracing him. “Thank you for coming. They’re excited to meet you.”
“Ya know I wouldn’t miss this.”
Atsumu met Kiyoomi’s family that day. It was a Sakusa family reunion of sorts. When Kiyoomi had asked him if he would meet his family, Atsumu was shocked. That meant something serious in a relationship. They hadn’t been dating all that long, but he agreed.
Kiyoomi’s sister was a lot like him with her blunt attitude and eye roll that was identical to Kiyoomi’s own. However, everyone was delightful.
“Kiyo even has a picture of you in his wallet,” Mrs. Sakusa said, grinning at her youngest.
“Mom!”
Atsumu’s delighted laughter filled the room. “Aww, Omi! That’s adorable! Lemme see, lemme see!”
Kiyoomi grumbled, red-faced, but complied.
Atsumu didn’t remember this picture being taken. It was a candid of Atsumu smiling, looking up at the evening sky. The time of day where the sun was just above the horizon and the stars started peeking out through the purple sky.
He looked to Sakusa with his head cocked. “When didja take this?”
“That time you took me back to Hyogo. You looked so beautiful, I couldn’t resist.”
Oh… That was right before he said—
XXX
The bullet train back to Osaka allowed Atsumu to sit there in his own misery. He made his bed; now he had to lie in it. The people back home will hear about this. Atsumu could already hear them.
“He would have made such a lovely husband.”
“What a shame he’s fucked in the head.”
“Champagne problems.”
Hunching over, Atsumu let out his pain. He loved Kiyoomi, he really did. But he let him go. Kiyoomi was beautiful in all he did, brought life and serenity, while Atsumu brought destruction and chaos. Where was the use of that in Kiyoomi’s life?
His ringtone blared in the silent train car. It was Osamu.
“Hello?”
“‘Tsumu, where the fuck are ya?”
“I’m headin’ back to Osaka.”
“Fuckin’ Christ. What’re ya doin’, Tsumu? Why didja turn down Kiyoomi’s proposal?”
“He deserves so much better, ‘Samu.”
A deep sigh emanated from the phone. “Do ya love him?”
“Yes. More than anythin’.”
“Then I don’t think it’s for ya to fuckin’ decide what he does and doesn’t deserve.”
XXX
Atsumu was once told his problems were his own, to deal with them alone because no one else wanted to. It stuck with him. Confiding in other people was difficult. His therapist was the only one who took on that burden. Atsumu had a lot of problems.
When he felt that it was all becoming too much, Atsumu never dared ask anyone for help. He feared their thoughts, feared he’d once again be labeled as crazy. So he tried to keep a distance outside of volleyball practice. He never got too close to people.
And maybe that was weird for someone who appeared so extroverted on the outside. He’s even heard himself referred to as the sun, but that’s not true. Atsumu was the moon. He reflected any light given to him to fool everyone around him.
So far it’d done its job. No one knew how exhausted Atsumu felt. How dark and cold it felt in his head.
“Image is everything, Miya.”
Was it because of everything he kept inside that his mind raced a million miles an hour?
When insomnia struck him in the late hours of the night like usual, he’d get up and walk the city streets. Maybe that was his first mistake, thinking that he could escape. The city held no escapes - that’s all in the movies. No, the city held only concrete mazes and broken dreams.
Atsumu had been doing so well. Until Sakusa joined the team that is. He wanted to get to know Sakusa and discover what laid beneath his hardened exterior.
Everyone had their own Kryptonite.
XXX
Atsumu laid on his bed that night unable to sleep. It wasn’t surprising, but he didn’t have the energy nor will to walk anywhere.
A banging on his door disturbed his thoughts. It was a little after midnight, so he didn’t know who it could possibly be. Sliding off the bed, he made his way to the door.
Beyond the threshold stood Sakusa Kiyoomi, and Atsumu couldn’t move—wasn’t sure he even remembered how.
Kiyoomi embraced him and walked them into Atsumu’s apartment to close the door.
“Atsumu,” he murmured next to his ear. “Don’t you dare assume what I do and don’t want or need because you’re wrong. It’s you.” Kiyoomi pulled back and cupped his face with both hands. “It’s always been you.”
“He had so much potential.”
Atsumu felt that itchy feeling as his eyes welled up. “But Omi-”
“No, listen to me. I don’t care what other people say or think. I want to know what you think. Share your burdens with me, I’ll take them. I’ll hold them all.”
“What a shame he’s fucked in the head.”
Tears rolled down his cheeks, puddling in Kiyoomi’s palms. “But I’m—”
“Atsumu, you’re the love of my life. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met inside and out. If you love me, then please don’t send me away unless you have a reason.”
Atsumu reached up to hold onto Kiyoomi’s wrists with both hands. “What if I can’t give a reason?”
“Then give me an answer.”
“Miya Osamu’s crazy twin brother.”
“I love you, Atsumu.”
Atsumu looked into Kiyoomi’s intense eyes filled with tender emotions. It looked as if he might cry again. And Atsumu wants. He wants.
“Ask me again,” he whispered.
Kiyoomi immediately dropped down onto one knee and pulled the ring from his pocket.
“Miya Atsumu, will you marry me?”