Chapter Text
Beneath the glow of flashing lights, under the weight of several scrutinizing gazes of strangers, and amongst hushed whispers of contempt, Kiyoomi's life takes a sharp turn.
It all starts like this.
“Miya, listen to me,” Kiyoomi slurs, head spinning and legs wobbling as he makes his way across the room. His sight is a little blurry but his eyes quickly focus on the couch where his longtime crush sits, cross-legged and head tilted down with a cap hiding his face.
The sound of the bass drops and drums in his chest but the music coming from the speakers remains to be moderate. Neither too loud nor too soft for a party. Just enough that Kiyoomi is sure a number of people without a doubt heard his grunted call.
There isn’t a big crowd surrounding him as he waddles, feet almost dancing in a zigzag motion. He doesn’t feel a stranger’s skin touching him nor smells the pungent scent of alcohol and smoke. Kiyoomi continues to tread the floor with a clear goal in mind. Miya, Miya, Miya. His brain only repeats one thing from inside his head. Miya, Miya, Miya. No one else matters. Just Miya.
Kiyoomi moves—forward, closer. Suddenly it feels hotter. He feels an elbow at his rib and he winces. An incoherent apology makes its way to his ears and he waves it off without another thought. He groans, wrapping an arm around his waist. Why is there suddenly a swarm of people? He was pretty sure that when he arrived, not even fifty were in the room. Very few for a celebration, one might say, but Kiyoomi likes it better that way.
Nevertheless, he walked into the apartment knowing he would be attending a party. It didn’t smell of booze and tobacco earlier, unlike now. But then again, Kiyoomi wasn’t as befuddled as he currently is. Downing five shots of vodka weren’t included in his plan either. Kiyoomi only wanted to attend this party, greet his friend, and then leave. That's all. He didn't want to cause a scene, not in a party where most of the invited guests know each other including him.
Because many of these people do know who Kiyoomi is. Either they met him during high school thanks to his sports background or they saw him once or twice as he scurried along the crowded hallways in the university.
But one thing he's sure of is that all of them know the name Kiyoomi uttered.
Miya, he thinks again as his brain goes haywire.
It's his birthday celebration after all.
Kiyoomi can feel several eyes on him as he takes another step, gazes boring holes at the back of his skull. It's a bit uncomfortable. But he pays them no heed. He continues to walk, swaying left and right, feet dragging across the floor, and limbs flailing around the air. When did walking become such an arduous task? He could do this with his eyes close before.
Minutes later, much to his joy, Kiyoomi finally reaches his destination. He stands proud in front of the almost empty couch and a familiar face tips up to meet his eyes. Kiyoomi grins in triumph, a dopey smile stretching across his mouth.
Miya parts his lips. “Uhm—”
Without missing a beat, Kiyoomi drops his body on Miya's lap, earning himself a sharp intake of breath from the other man. The weight of the curious glances comes back full force at the back of his head, but Kiyoomi clicks his tongue and continues to forcibly ignore all the watchful eyes around them. Instead, he grabs Miya by the shoulders and heavily presses him against the couch.
“You know, I've been trying to keep this a secret for years but as you can see, I'm very drunk right now and you look so good tonight so I don't think I can hide this anymore,” Kiyoomi starts. He lets go of Miya's shoulders and brings his hands up to touch his face. His palm makes contact with Miya’s cheek. He squishes. It’s warm. He feels warm. It's like everything else disappears. Just him and Miya, all alone in the room. No one to bother them. No one to judge them.
For a few moments, nothing else truly mattered.
Just then, Kiyoomi's thoughts shatter immediately as he suddenly hears all the wolf whistles and sinister whispers coming from behind them. Ah, right. Once again, he is reminded that they have an audience. Normally, he would instantly shy away from the attention and leave for a place where he can be at peace and alone.
But right now, he doesn't care. He made up his mind. He's already made it out this far. Kiyoomi is going to confess. He's going to ask this guy out and hopefully date the fuck out of him.
Sakusa Kiyoomi takes a deep breath and with all the courage and alcohol flowing within him, says the words he's been locking at the deepest pits of his heart, storing them away from the world, and willing for it to pass only to be left in vain. With all the frustrations pent up throughout the three years of pining, gripping his lungs and ridding him of air, Kiyoomi finally confesses.
“Miya, I like you. Please go out with me.”
Then there was silence.
You see, Sakusa Kiyoomi is a model student, a good friend, a cooperative teammate, and a perfect son. All his life he made sure to follow the rules, to listen to his teachers, and obey his parents. He studied hard, got good grades and received several awards while he was in school. He believes he's a pretty decent athlete too. He admired his captain in the volleyball club, recognizing his skills as a setter and a leader. Kiyoomi wanted to make him proud so he trained religiously every day to prove himself worthy of the title of an ace. And with the best of his abilities, Kiyoomi helped his team reach the national stage several times until the time he graduated from high school.
Even in college, Kiyoomi is known by the professors as someone hardworking and intelligent. He’s responsible, disciplined, and reasonably obedient. Lots of students adore him and want to be around him. He easily became popular although it was very much against his will. Kiyoomi only wanted to study and play volleyball in the collegiate team, but with the undesired popularity comes the weekly invitation to hang out, eat meals, and drink together. His college teammates often try to get him to join them but he politely declines them all for… personal reasons. And of course, if there were people who liked Kiyoomi, there were also others that send a glare and sneer his way, not liking the way he seems to be effortlessly excelling in all his classes while simultaneously carrying the title of the team MVP on his shoulders. Nevertheless, Kiyoomi took these as a sign that he is currently doing a good job in the university.
So yes, Kiyoomi thinks he lived a pretty good life. Almost steady and with no bumps along the road. Personally, he thinks he lived a life not worthy of being damned and cursed with all the misfortunes in the world. He was a good person after all. And don't good people get rewarded or something?
But then why?
Why is Kiyoomi sobering up only to find himself sitting on the lap of a man who looks exactly like his crush of three years?
And why is this said man grinning at him from ear to ear?
“Ah, Omi-kun,” the man chuckles, deep and breathy. He takes off the hat that used to cover the bright color of his hair. He blinks rapidly, eyes focusing better at the sight in front of him. Kiyoomi gulps. It's no longer the color of piss, just the perfect light blond, unlike back in high school. He runs his fingers through the blond locks. Dyed blond, not brown. “I had no idea you liked me back.”
Suddenly Kiyoomi is fully sober again. His brain alert and thoughts running a thousand miles per second. His body stiff as a board and face drained of color. Several things went through in his mind in a matter of seconds. One, he's sitting on Miya Atsumu's lap. Two, he is touching his face. Three, there are people still staring at them. And four—
Huh?
What?
Back?
Liked me back?
Did Miya fucking Atsumu just imply that he liked Kiyoomi?
“What?” Kiyoomi's jaw drops. He almost topples over in shock but a hand finds its way to Kiyoomi's hips, steadying him and keeping him from falling. It's warm, just like the rest of him, and somehow it fits there perfectly. Like two puzzle pieces finally clicking together. Kiyoomi hears the buzz in his head and he drops his hands from Atsumu's face, clasping them together and putting it close to his chest.
Atsumu, realizing what Kiyoomi's actions meant, lets go of his waist and lets his own hands fall back to his sides. Kiyoomi stares at him with wide, questioning eyes. Atsumu flashes him a lazy grin and Kiyoomi swears all the alcohol in his blood is making him see things when he notices the pink tinge on the setter's cheeks. Maybe it's just the lights, or maybe it's from the alcohol Atsumu probably drank. Maybe there's nothing and Kiyoomi should pretend he didn't see anything at all. Because there is no way he's embarrassed. Miya Atsumu cannot be feeling shy after receiving a confession from Kiyoomi.
“You know what, Omi-kun? If I'm being honest, I liked you since our training camp in high school,” he admits, the smile not tiring out of his lips. He looks at Kiyoomi, eyes full of adoration. “I wanted to confess years ago. I was gonna tell you during our last spring nationals but you left before I could talk to you.”
He realizes it right then and there. The sincerity lacing his tone. The genuine smile replacing the usual cocky grin. The soft voice instead of the thick scream. It all comes crashing down and Kiyoomi wants to throw up.
Miya Atsumu likes him.
Atsumu truly likes him but Kiyoomi does not.
Because Kiyoomi likes Miya Osamu—the man attending the same university as Kiyoomi and has helped him a number of times. The man who he managed to befriend in the first few months of college. The man who would remind him to eat and bring him his favorite food when he's stressed out from classes. The man who keeps extra sanitizers and wipes in his bag in case Kiyoomi forgets to bring his own or runs out.
The man standing right behind them, brows creasing and eyes narrowing—
He likes Osamu and finally had the courage to tell him after three years of pining.
Kiyoomi likes Osamu but he confessed to the wrong twin.
Sakusa Kiyoomi may be smart but he is also very, very stupid.
Aside from the fact that he had somehow professed his love to the wrong person and failed to notice Osamu standing literally a feet away from Atsumu, Sakusa Kiyoomi has managed to make things worse.
How?
Through a simple exchange of Atsumu's nervous question (“So, are we together now?”) and Kiyoomi's panicked answer (“Uh, yeah. Sure.”)
Now, a day and a couple of text messages later, Kiyoomi finds himself sitting alone in a coffee shop booth, body wrapped in his college varsity jacket and his favorite gray sweatpants, half of his face covered with a black mask like the usual.
He taps his shoe impatiently on the floor, eyes glued on the store entrance as he waits for the chimes to sound and the glass doors to slide open to reveal a familiar face striding in. He thinks about how dumb he must have looked last night—imagine walking up to someone you haven't talked to in years only to sit on their lap and ramble about how much you like them, then mentally curse yourself after finding out that you fucked up in the biggest way possible. He grabs his own hair and pulls in frustration. God, Kiyoomi is never drinking again.
Fortunately for Kiyoomi's hair, Atsumu arrives a few minutes later. He walks into the coffee shop oozing with confidence, head held high and hands in his pocket. He walks with heavy steps like he owns the place and he knows it. Contrary to what Kiyoomi was initially expecting, Atsumu is dressed rather comfortably. No expensive or branded clothes in sight. Just plain pants, a hoodie, and a cap that hides his hair.
A cap. Again. Kiyoomi's eye twitches as the memory from the other night haunt him tenfold.
“Hey Omi-kun, did ya wait long?” Atsumu asks, his thick accent slipping out. There's a faint blush on his cheeks that Kiyoomi chooses to ignore. Atsumu smiles apologetically, pulling a chair across Kiyoomi to take a seat. “Sorry I got stuck for a bit during training. Coach was in a pissy mood today.”
“It's fine,” It's not. “I didn't wait long,” Lies. Kiyoomi has been waiting for more than half an hour.
“Still, I never should have made you wait.”
“It's really fine, Miya. It's not a big deal,” Kiyoomi insists, tugging down his mask to rest under his chin. He offers him a small smile, hoping his gesture will be enough to convince Atsumu that yes, even if he was a bit late, Kiyoomi doesn't mind. If anything, he actually needs more time to get himself together. So it wasn't really an issue that Atsumu was a few minutes late.
“It kinda is for me,” Atsumu sighs and then pouts. A pout. Kiyoomi blinks. What the fuck. “It's our first date. I wanted to leave a good impression.”
A date, Kiyoomi almost shuts off at the word. A first date that he didn't wish for. A first date that he didn't see coming.
For months, everytime he shamelessly daydreams of a date, he thinks of the same face, sitting in front of him and most probably feeding him desserts. But today, the same face of his dreams is right across him. Just within his reach. If he extends his arm out and tries hard enough, he can even touch him. It's here. A dream come true, some may say.
Yet it's not with the person Kiyoomi wants.
“Well, uhm,” Kiyoomi licks his lips and finds himself at loss for words. What's happening again? What are they talking about? Why won't Atsumu stop pouting? Does Osamu look as adorable when he pouts? He shakes the last thought away. “You can always do better next time?”
“Hm, yer right, Omi-omi,” Kiyoomi's eye twitches for the second time at the mention of the nickname, but he forces another smile to hide his displease. Atsumu grins at him, bright and blinding. “After all, we can go on as many dates as we like. I mean, we are dating now, aren't we?”
Once again, Kiyoomi is reminded of how stupid he is. Miya Atsumu is perhaps a living, breathing, proof of that.
“Yeah,” he croaks out, swallowing past the forming lump in his throat. “We are.”
Kiyoomi doesn't even have a proper experience when it comes to relationships. He never dated before. He's had crushes yes, but no one ever went further than that. Not in high school. He thought it was too early, that he was too young to date. He didn't date in college either. Not because he was too busy with studying and or playing volleyball. Kiyoomi just didn't want to. Because why would he go out with other people when all he wanted was that one person? One person that he thought was within his reach all this time.
And now he's on a date with that person's twin.
“Heh,” Atsumu lets out a satisfied huff and looks him directly into his eyes. Kiyoomi feels chills running through his spine, prickling him deep and sharp. The blond cocks his head and with another grin, he asks, “So what should we do for our first date then?”
Much to Kiyoomi's displeasure and surprise, the two of them ended up spending the whole day together.
Normally, Kiyoomi wouldn't be caught dead outside for longer than necessary. But today is their first date as a couple, according to Atsumu, and since Kiyoomi was the one who confessed and asked the other out, he can't bring himself to complain. Either way, it's a free day and even though Kiyoomi would rather stay at home and study for next week's classes, it's Atsumu's last day in Tokyo before he leaves for Osaka tomorrow morning. He owes this day to him at least.
The plan is to go on a small tour around Tokyo. Kiyoomi is going to walk around the city and show Atsumu the place where he grew up in, that's what they agreed on. But Kiyoomi is starting to regret it now. The blaring sun above them burns his skin like fire and the crowd is getting denser and denser by the minute. Someone behind him coughs and Kiyoomi wants to bolt right that instant. He naively thought there would be less people outside since it was a weekday. Adults should be at work and most students should be at school on a Monday right? But boy was he wrong. All Kiyoomi wants to do now is to curl into himself and hide away from the crowd.
“Hey Omi-omi,” Atsumu suddenly stops in his tracks. He was walking in front of Kiyoomi, humming with a skip in his every step. He seems happy so any plans of ditching him to go home and hide leaves a wretched feeling in Kiyoomi's gut, making him feel guilty.
“Yes?” he breathes out, trying his best to not look like he's dying.
“Do you wanna go home now?”
Kiyoomi halts. He blinks at Atsumu, a confused frown forming underneath his mask. “What?”
“You kinda look uncomfortable with being around this many people,” Atsumu says. “I don't wanna make you stay out longer than you can handle.”
Oh, Kiyoomi makes a realization. Miya Atsumu is… surprisingly very considerate.
“But you leave Tokyo tomorrow,” Kiyoomi replies as if that was enough for an answer. It wasn't. Atsumu shakes his head.
“It's fine. I already had the best birthday in Tokyo, and what's even better is that I got to spend a few hours on a date with the Sakusa Kiyoomi. That's already a dream come true,” Atsumu touches his chest and lets out an exaggerated dreamy sigh. “Besides, you already gave me your number. I can just text you if I want to talk to you.”
It catches Kiyoomi off guard, how shockingly observant Atsumu is to notice that Kiyoomi is starting to feel uncomfortable. He also didn't expect Atsumu to be considerate enough to send his boyfriend home despite only being together for roughly around two hours. If Kiyoomi has been pining for someone since high school, he would probably go all out and spend an entire day with them on the first date. He's simply not going to let the chance go to waste. But Atsumu? He's different, Kiyoomi thinks. Somehow, that makes him feel even worse. How could he even think of ditching someone as nice as Atsumu?
And a Kiyoomi who feels bad was never one to make the best decisions.
“I do want to go home,” he starts, and Atsumu smiles kindly at him in understanding.
“Okay, then I'll call you a cab and—”
“But you can come home with me if you like,” Kiyoomi suddenly cuts him off, stupid mouth running faster than his brain. “We can continue the date at my apartment.”
Atsumu stiffens in shock, not expecting the invitation. His surprise is written all over his face, blown eyes, mouth agape, and brows shooting up to his forehead. To be fair, Kiyoomi didn't see this coming either.
“Me? Come home with you?” Atsumu repeats in disbelief.
Kiyoomi nods. “Yes. We can just watch a movie in my living room and cook dinner if you want to stay until then.”
“W-wait, Omi” The blond suddenly flails in panic. “Are you sure? You're not just saying this out of some kind of obligation, are you?”
No. He's not sure and yes, he's probably just feeling obligated.
“Yes, I'm sure,” is what Kiyoomi says instead.
“You'd let me in your apartment?” Atsumu asks, each word quietly and carefully leaving his lips like he's afraid saying it loud will end his dream.
“Yes? I did invite you after all.”
Atsumu suddenly takes a step back. Kiyoomi lifts a brow as he looks at him in confusion. The setter huffs out a breath and puts a hand on his hips as he gently pats the side of his chest where his heart lies. Kiyoomi cocks his head and watches him silently.
“Okay. Okay, let me just… okay wait… might need a moment to process this… okay, okay wow.”
“Miya?” Kiyoomi calls, an amused smile stretching his lips. “Are you done now?”
It was as if his voice snapped Atsumu out of his stupor. The blond's expression shifts and he faces Kiyoomi with a soft smile.
Oh, Kiyoomi blinks, that looks better on him than the cocky smirk he shows on the court.
“Yeah. Yeah, let's go to your apartment,” decides Atsumu.
Kiyoomi nods his head and pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Alright then. I'll book a cab now.”
As he taps the keys on his screen, Kiyoomi wonders if aside from studying and volleyball, he also has a talent for making wrong decisions. Because if yes, then just the past few days alone is enough for proof.
When he confirms the booking, Kiyoomi raises his head and looks at the man standing next to him. Atsumu looks restless. A bit nervous and also a bit excited. Kiyoomi takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.
He's just bringing Atsumu in his apartment. It's not a big deal. He's brought other people into his home before. Motoya comes over often. Even Osamu visits him sometimes.
It's just Miya Atsumu. The guy he used to play volleyball with in high school. Miya Atsumu, who is his best friend's older twin brother. Miya Atsumu, who is the starting setter of Osaka's MSBY Black Jackals.
Miya Atsumu who also happens to be his boyfriend.
Miya Atsumu is an enigma, Kiyoomi soon realizes.
On the court, Kiyoomi remembers the terror the name Miya holds. A scary duo. A genius setter and a strong opposite hitter. Some teams shudder at the very sound of their name. They were an amazing and worthy opponent. Even Kiyoomi thought the same at one point in his life.
But befriending Miya Osamu, the strong opposite hitter from Inarizaki High, made Kiyoomi realize that their intimidating image fails to precede them once they're off court. Osamu who loves to cook in his free time. Osamu who loves to watch eating ASMR before going to bed. Osamu who creates eccentric recipes in the middle of the night. Osamu who says the weirdest food metaphors whenever he wants to bother Kiyoomi.
Miya Atsumu, like his twin, is very different when he's not touching the ball. With the way Atsumu screams, shouts, and stomps his feet during all the matches Kiyoomi has seen him play, he fully expected Atsumu to be loud and bossy at all times. He thought Atsumu would be someone who would demand attention wherever he goes and then throw tantrums when things don't go his way. He thought Atsumu would disrupt peace and wreak havoc like a second nature.
So on the ride back to his apartment, Kiyoomi held his breath, waiting for Atsumu to try and start talking to him, to ask him questions and make small talk. He grips his hands tightly on his lap, pupils shaky and lips abused by his teeth. He waits as the cab passes through a very familiar route, eyes darting back and forth between Atsumu and the window beside him. Kiyoomi waits. And waits. But the only thing he hears from Atsumu on the entire way home is “Are you really sure about this, Omi-kun?” like he's scared. Worried. For what? Kiyoomi doesn't know.
Kiyoomi merely tells him “Yes, Miya. We're already in the cab. I'm sure,” and Atsumu nods without another word before he turns to his side and leans against the glass window.
The rest of the ride was spent in total silence after that.
Now as he and Miya Atsumu sit on opposite ends of the couch, Frozen playing on Kiyoomi's television screen because how have you not seen this yet, Omi-omi? Sakusa Kiyoomi watches him try to subtly wipe a tear away when the snowman starts to melt. He listens to him mutter the lyrics of all the songs under his breath. He sees him smile when the true love in question ends up being about a love between siblings.
The movie ends and Kiyoomi asks Atsumu if he wants to stay for dinner. As soon as the question leaves his lips, Kiyoomi remembers his nearly empty fridge and cabinets. He doesn't have any food at home. Good going, Kiyoomi, he curses himself. He's already dreading the yes at the tip of Atsumu's tongue, wondering how he can get his way through this new fuck up, but to his surprise, the setter politely refuses.
He wishes Kiyoomi a good night and promises to text him when he gets home. He leaves Kiyoomi's apartment with a wave and a smile, and with a soft click, shuts the door close.
That night, Kiyoomi goes to bed feeling a mix of emotions. The day had been excruciatingly long. From the coffee shop, to the Tokyo crowd, and then to the comfort of his living room. Kiyoomi remembers his emotions vividly. The dread while he waits for Atsumu. The fear when he sees the crowd. The anxiety as he prepares himself for a small talk that never came. The curiosity as he observes Atsumu during the movie. And the weird sense of satisfaction when the day finally comes to an end.
Kiyoomi heaves out a deep sigh and closes his eyes.
It's just the first date, he thinks to himself. There are most likely more to come. More days to spend with Atsumu. More days to pretend like a good boyfriend. More days to act like lying so shamelessly doesn't kill him slowly inside.
Dread for tomorrow doesn't leave Kiyoomi's mind, but for now, he sleeps.