Chapter Text
"I really hope this doesn't end up falling apart in the middle of the night," Atsumu says, hands holding a thick plank steady. "Because that would really suck."
Sakusa, steel wrench in his grip and poised to secure the final bolt in place, sighs. "As long as we don't do anything reckless then there's no reason for it to fall apart."
To that Atsumu instantly shoots him a look , eyebrow raised and the hint of a playful smirk on his lips. "Tell me, Omi-kun. What exactly kind of reckless thing did you have in mind that might warrant our bed frame to fall apart?"
A chuckle greets Atsumu's foolhardy flirtation. "Don't tell me you're already thinking of breaking it in."
Atsumu scoots closer to Sakusa and he drops his voice to a whisper. "I'm going to sleep in this bed so hard you won't believe it, Sakusa Kiyoomi."
What valiant effort to exercise utmost concentration evaporates completely once Sakusa blurts out a laugh. However, he eventually does find himself endeared by the amused glint that's very potently evident on Atsumu's features.
"So are you happy now that you've sufficiently distracted me?" Sakusa huffs out.
"I'm just surprised I didn't have to take my shirt off to distract you," Atsumu teases. "Who would have thought my brand of humor would be your downfall?"
"An acquired taste," Sakusa scoffs but all in good nature. He eventually resumes fastening the bolt, but he takes a moment to glance over at Atsumu. "Although I'm still very much open to that last resort you just mentioned. I don't think my resolve has been weakened thoroughly enough."
Atsumu feels warm and his skin suddenly grows sensitive to the fabric of his sweatshirt. But he remains rigid, keeping these signs of something at bay. "Are you going to pretend that you haven't seen me without my shirt, Omi-kun?"
Sakusa continues to look calm, the deft movements of his hand as it maneuvers the wrench a testament to his iron composure. Atsumu notices him make an extra forceful tug and his throat goes dry.
"Well to be fair, you've never done it here ," Sakusa murmurs without even peeking at him, eyes instead locked on making sure the final part of their bed frame is secured firmly in place.
Atsumu doesn't say anything to that, opting to just silently burn this image of Sakusa in his head, specifically tucking it away in his mental rolodex of Moments Where Omi-kun Is Being Really Hot.
His burgeoning fevered attraction aside, Atsumu contemplates in awe over how far they've come.They had only started dating last year, navigating through all of their relationship’s stages of awkwardness like fools out on sea without a map or a compass. But luckily they had the metaphorical stars and each other and in the end they managed to successfully carve out their own path after much trial and error.
Now they're both sitting on their apartment floor, stained in late afternoon sunlight that's buttery and dense as it bleeds through their naked windows. They have to remember to put up the curtains at some point later though, Atsumu notes. Because apart from an aesthetic perspective, it was also to ensure their safety and privacy more than anything else.
The thing is, strangely over their last few matches of the season, the two of them seemed to have amassed quite the following ever since some fans have traced their high school history together and the uncanny ways that he and Sakusa had been narrowly revolving around each other's circles despite the physical miles between Tokyo and Hyogo. As teenagers, it had meant nothing to them both, but in retrospect, those instances could only be considered as comically serendipitous. That is, until now.
Atsumu recalls how Bokuto had shared what a fan had posted online. It was a slightly blurry photo from when he and Sakusa had attended the youth training camp together for the first time. The caption had read something along the lines of fated rivals turned teammates, following it up with a dramatic retelling of when they had faced off at the Interhigh, and finally an impassioned spiral into internet-slang gushing. While the other guys on the team had fawned at the scrawny, teenage versions of themselves on screen, it had made both him and Sakusa queasy knowing that some random stranger was able to pull up a photo of them from 2012.
So curtains were indeed going to have to be a necessity.
"Hey," Sakusa nudges him with his knee. "You okay?"
Atsumu’s ears instantly perk up at the speech pattern that he's so intimately familiar with. And it now comes as a most startling delight to hear this accent that he carries around like a memento from home now delicately encased in Sakusa's voice. All Atsumu could do was blink back at him in surprise.
“Did you just ask me if I’m okay.. .in kansai-ben? ”
The blush which Atsumu anticipated has bloomed to completion on both Sakusa's cheeks. Atsumu snickers at the sight, not a smidge of malice in his bones, but just an unadulterated elation for this very reality that Sakusa Kiyoomi--a true-blue Tokyo homegrown--has actually picked up on his accent. And somehow it feels better than a first kiss.
"It's not really that funny," Sakusa says and he's knitting his brows together in that way that should already prompt Atsumu to cease and desist from any and all shenanigans.
Atsumu does let up, his temporary surrender giving Sakusa a false sense of security before he swoops in so his face is impossibly close to his boyfriend's.
"Are you gonna let me kiss you?" Atsumu asks, hardly skimping on his dialect as he enunciates his words.
Sakusa doesn’t verbalize his reply and just lets his actions speak for him when he pulls on the front of Atsumu’s shirt so they’re mouths can finally meet.
Since the tail end of the new year, Sakusa has come to gradually take notice of Atsumu’s lowered inhibitions in regards to, well, physical intimacy. Clearly, airing things out has been effective and Sakusa is not one to kid himself and say that it hasn’t been a welcome change. Yesterday, while they kissed on the couch, Atsumu had actually ducked down to slot himself in the crook of Sakusa’s neck, asking permission if he could kiss along the stretch of skin there. Sakusa had allowed him. It was great.
Currently, the bedroom floor has become the chosen spot of the afternoon, and as they languidly share kisses while surrounded by stray tools, bolts, and a wrinkled instruction manual they’d abandoned halfway through assembling the bed frame, Atsumu carefully inches a hand near the hem of Sakusa’s sweater. Sakusa nods once and he deepens their kiss while Atsumu slides a warm hand under the garment, skimming the area near his navel. Sakusa sighs. As expected, it's great.
***
Venturing into a life of joint domesticity has been both a lesson on hubris as well as a game of expectation versus reality. While they had spent a considerable amount of time together before in the Black Jackals dormitory, it quickly becomes apparent that it’s not exactly the same once you strip your living quarters down to just two people. Somehow, the absence of their other companions makes them feel more seen to each other--as if they were getting to know the other person for the first time.
They allow themselves grace, however, since it has only been less than a week since the move. Atsumu especially has learned to slowly loosen the reins on his perfectionist tendencies, openly communicating with more ease which has only been met with continued patience by Sakusa. And while certain circumstances might pose an occasional threat to any stability in this new chapter of their lives, they've both learned how to take matters in stride.
For now, they'll celebrate the successful assembly of their bed frame.
"That's finally two pieces of furniture we can check off the list." Atsumu collapses into the couch after they've hauled the stiff mattress on top of the frame.
Sakusa joins him moments later with two mugs of tea. He hands one to Atsumu, settling in the space beside him before he takes a sip out of his own mug.
"We can always continue tomorrow," Sakusa tells him and he carefully places his mug on the wooden stool that currently doubles as a side table.
Atsumu's eyes dart to the side, casting a wary glance at the slumped figure next to him. "Tired?"
In response, Sakusa leans against the vacant shoulder, growing significantly lax once he can feel that he's pressed close enough to hear every resolute thump of Atsumu's heart. An arm snakes from behind him to draw him in. Everything feels right.
"We really gotta tell the landlord about the heater," Atsumu says. "Although to be honest, I do like sharing our body heat like this."
"I must remind you that it's only February," Sakusa points out. "At this rate, I'm not certain we'll survive until spring."
Atsumu hums in agreement then he takes Sakusa's hands in his. "Your hands are always so cold, Omi-kun."
Their hands have always been more or less the same size, but right now Sakusa completely lets himself surrender to Atsumu's gentle and warm grasp, and so he balls his hands into fists to snuggly fit inside his hold.
"Frankly I used to be self-conscious about it," Sakusa admits. "But you really didn't mind so I ended up not caring as much as before."
And Atsumu raises Sakusa's hand to his lips so he can tenderly plant kisses along the ridges of his right knuckles. "There are a lot of things about you I don't mind, Omi-kun."
These exchanges, Sakusa noticed, have also become more increasingly common. What had once lay stilted on their tongues--a fear of mortifying honesty--now spills out in comfortable declarations. Whether whispered or tossed into the air, it finally leaves untethered by hesitation. And so far, they’ve both proven to be quick studies in this regard.
Perhaps it's the privacy they have now acquired all to themselves and how it might have emboldened Atsumu now that there are less eyes on them--less cheeky teammates ready to pounce with a teasing jab should Atsumu so much as let his guard down. After all, it has become common knowledge among the team that Atsumu is the most susceptible to bouts of embarrassment, much to Atsumu’s chagrin.
And it’s not just exclusive to when he's trying to woo Sakusa with smooth-talking either because even his failed attempts at humor that go unacknowledged is enough cause for grief for the setter. Sakusa has thus made it a personal point to try and laugh at his jokes, but as time passes, it becomes less and less of a concerted effort on his part. It's a bit unnerving to say the least that what he finds funny has now evolved, but maybe this is what love looks like. Things that were once unsavory would become, as Sakusa has said, acquired tastes. And at this point, Atsumu's more straightforward gestures of sentimentality are becoming more and more of a deliciously acquired taste.
Sakusa wriggles his hand free from Atsumu's hold, shifting its position so he’s cradling Atsumu’s jaw and using his thumb to brush against the skin of his cheek. Back then, it had been the obvious choice to resign himself to simple hand-holding. The perpetual chill in his palms that lingers with an incessant stubbornness is reason to resist grazing it anywhere near Atsumu’s face. But he’s already assured Sakusa that he doesn’t mind.
There are a lot of things about you I don't mind, Omi-kun.
And so Sakusa lets these words settle like an anchor sinking to the bottom of the sea floor, one which would ground him to this perceivable truth of their togetherness as he feels warm skin against his. It’s like holding summer and rain and fire and a blizzard. A force of nature right in the palm of his hand.
Atsumu kisses him in the quiet of their living room apartment and the cold is swallowed whole by the dizzying affection that travels with reckless fervor across every square inch of his body. And as Sakusa kisses him back, holding on to him like roots to the soil, he understands for perhaps the nth time since the beginning of their move that this right here is what it’s like to feel all kinds of right.
***
At some time just before dawn, the heater becomes inoperable as usual, but not without sputtering out some last few remaining fragments of heat which were clearly not resilient enough to last two six-foot tall athletes until daybreak. The morning chill becomes an effective natural alarm clock that stirs Atsumu’s body to semi-consciousness, and his first sleep-dazed thoughts of the day are to instinctively seek out warmth from the person next to him.
Atsumu makes a lazy turn until he’s facing a still slumbering Sakusa. Then he slides an arm across his chest, slow and cautious so as not to awaken him. The body heat, as expected, is glorious and the sensation elicits an involuntary satisfied grunt from Atsumu who only presses himself closer until the top of his head brushes against the line of Sakusa's jaw.
"You're awake." He hears Sakusa whisper in a voice rougher than usual. Atsumu could listen to it all day if he could.
"It's cold," Atsumu excuses, and he burrows deeper into what meager space is available between them so that Atsumu is hiking up one leg to nearly throw over Sakusa's thigh.
He cracks one eye open, curious to find what kind of expression Sakusa has put on, and what he encounters is an excruciating fondness that is slightly shadowed by apparent shades of lethargy. The small smile, however, does not entirely elude Atsumu's periphery and what swells within him as a result is a biting urge to pull him close and kiss him.
Sakusa, sensing the shrinking distance between their faces, wrinkles his nose at him. "Brush your teeth first."
Atsumu gives him a sheepish grin, but he budges scarcely an inch as he noses instead along the exposed collarbone of his boyfriend. "Just give me a minute."
They stay stuck in this tender chaos of limbs and sheets for at least ten minutes more. In the time that has passed, Sakusa was able to sneak a kiss on top of Atsumu's crown while Atsumu was granted access to slink a hand inside the layers of Sakusa's sweatshirt so he can run his lithe fingers along his ribcage.
Sakusa shivers at the touch and Atsumu stops. "Didn't know you were ticklish here," he says more to himself than Sakusa.
"Rather, I'd like to think I'm enjoying your touch in a way that almost frightens me," Sakusa confesses.
"Scared you're enjoying it too much ?"
"Scared to feel that I'm not getting enough."
Outside this cocoon they’ve built themselves it’s unwaveringly cold and neither of them is particularly willing to dislodge themselves from the other first. Atsumu continues to press intuitively along the hard lines of muscle from the abdomen to the firm cords of Sakusa’s back, and the latter seems to relish in it once he closes his eyes, airing out his contentment by virtue of muffled hums.
"Hey, Omi-kun?"
"Hmmm?"
He reaches Sakusa's lower back and he slowly draws circles along his spine. "It's Valentine's Day five days from now. Do you wanna go out?"
Sakusa, already like putty in Atsumu's arms, nods wordlessly.
Atsumu could kiss him like this. He desperately wants to. So he withdraws his hand which swiftly earns him a questioning look from Sakusa.
“I’m gonna go brush my teeth,” Atsumu tells him as he pushes away the covers.
Then he’s finally leaving the comfort of their bed, smiling softly at the pliant form of his boyfriend, cheeks flushed and unruly black curls poking aimlessly. And in this moment much like any other moment where he's stricken with an absolution to extend his endearment, Atsumu feels veritably weak in the knees.
“What are you looking at?” Sakusa raises an eyebrow at him.
“Motivation to brush my teeth.”
Sakusa squeezes out a dollop of toothpaste onto Atsumu's toothbrush before proceeding to do the same with his. For the subsequent moments, all they hear is the arrhythmic tune of the bristles against their teeth.
While standing in the semi-cramped space of their bathroom, Sakusa takes notice of how Atsumu always starts off with his molars and the way he also always seems to be in the habit of looking down intently while he brushes his teeth. Whether or not he's actually deep in thought is a matter Sakusa has considered asking him about, but every single time he attempts to bring it up, he realizes he's not in a hurry to find out, admitting that perhaps this is just one of the small things he can continue to let Atsumu have for himself.
Atsumu pauses, eyebrows suddenly furrowing, then he spits out a foamy wad into the sink. Sakusa sees him wince just as he was about to put the toothbrush back in, but Atsumu figures he's in too much discomfort to continue so he runs the tap to rinse out his mouth instead.
Sakusa rubs Atsumu's back. "Is it still hurting?"
Atsumu hacks out any traces of toothpaste and mouthwash. Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "I feel like it's gotten worse," Atsumu finally says.
Sakusa eventually finishes as well and he places his toothbrush back in its holder. "You should go to the dentist and have that checked," he suggests.
"I will. Later, to be exact."
"You managed to schedule an appointment?"
"Yeah." And Atsumu clenches and unclenches his jaw as if to assess the degree of his pain. "Do you think they're going to pull out any of my teeth?"
Sakusa looks at him briefly concerned, but he softens at the genuine innocence of the question. "I'm not entirely sure, but I'll have you know I'll still think of you dearly even without your teeth."
Atsumu lets out a chuckle, but Sakusa sees through him and catches just a tinge of nerves that accompany his small grin.
“That’s sweet and all, Omi-kun, but if I’m going to be honest, I’m freaking out a little bit.”
And Sakusa was right.
He ends up pondering if it would be appropriate to ask Atsumu about any aversions he might be harboring against dentist visits, but Sakusa knows Atsumu well enough at this point and so he goes down the more obvious route and takes Atsumu’s hand in his and gives it an assuring squeeze.
“You’re going to be fine.”
Atsumu appears to take his word for it because the creases of doubt between his brows have smoothened and are replaced almost instantly with a look of mischief.
“Anyway, as you can see I’ve already brushed my teeth so…”
Sakusa doesn’t squander any more seconds, doesn't hold back as he leans in to kiss Atsumu, tasting mint and more mint once Atsumu starts to kiss him in return. They pull apart in a haze, stupid smiles plastered on their faces.
“Good morning, Omi-kun.”
“Good morning, Atsumu.”
***
Atsumu can confidently count in one hand all the dentist visits he's gone to, and with good reason. But apart from his auspicious fortune with oral and dental health throughout his existence, Miya Atsumu just--to put it more succinctly-- does not enjoy having someone prod at the inner caverns of his mouth with medical-grade apparatuses. And so he’s taken extra precaution to ensure that he can avoid dental check-ups much like the one that he's about to have.
There isn't much of a queue when he arrives at the clinic and in no time, he's being ushered to the back where he's instructed by the assistant to lay on the bulky dental chair that easily shifts to a reclining position.
The dentist greets him cheerfully, then she interrogates Atsumu about his pain--when it started, where he feels the pain is most concentrated at, and the intensity of the pain. Eventually, the dreaded moment comes and Atsumu is asked to open his mouth to which he complies, his palms having already moistened significantly with nervous sweats at this point.
Atsumu feels every glide, every clink of the instruments along his teeth and once it's finally over, it had felt like he had waited an eternity before he was given the go-signal to rinse.
"Well, it's definitely not cavities," the dentist informs him. "In fact, you have very healthy teeth, and they're quite impressively straight too. Did you ever wear braces when you were younger?”
He shakes his head. "I'm just very careful with them, I guess."
"I'll have you know that you're doing a very good job," the dentist says, and the way her eyes narrow at him is a telltale sign of a smile concealed by her surgical mask. "However, the pain you’re feeling is caused by your wisdom teeth. So after you get an x-ray, we’ll decide how to go about it, but for now I’m sure we need to have two removed.”
They really are going to pull out my teeth.
Atsumu clears his throat. "Ummm, when should I have them removed?"
The dentist strolls over to her desk, removing her gloves in the process and chucking them into the nearby waste bin. Then she pulls out an iPad and starts to scroll through it.
"The earliest time I can see you again is around next week." She pauses, then looks at him from her desk. "How does February 14 sound?"
That's Valentine's Day.
“Ummm, would a later date be possible?” Atsumu asks.
“Hmmm, I don’t think so.” The dentist glances back at her tablet. “I’ll be leaving for an overseas conference the day after and I won’t be back until mid-March. Unless, of course, you can put up with it until then."
Atsumu mulls it over, but then a throb from the back of his mouth clamors for attention and he knows that the rational decision would be to get it over with as soon as possible. After all, training will commence again soon and there’s also the impending Olympic try-outs to consider. Definitely the last thing Atsumu would want is to be out of commission for the next most crucial months of his volleyball career.
"Okay," he relents. "I'll be here on the 14th."
"The 14th it is then," the dentist confirms.
After getting the requisite x-ray, Atsumu finally leaves the clinic and as he trudges outside, he begins to anticipate the creeping waves of anxiety. Before any of this, he’s never had to stay at the dentist for far longer than ten to twenty minutes at a time, and now he’s set to have not just one, but two teeth taken out. It should have been enough to drive him to a nervous fit, yet what Atsumu feels instead are the sharp notes of disappointment. He’d promised Sakusa a date on the 14th and even though he’s aware that Sakusa wouldn’t mind him prioritizing his health (Atsumu knows he would even insist on it), it’s just difficult to avoid feeling even an inkling of remorse when all he wants is to be able to take Sakusa out.
By the time he arrives home, Sakusa is in the middle of doing the laundry, another trivial instance of their day-to-day that serves as a gentle reminder of their new living situation and it makes Atsumu’s stomach do just about the tiniest flip. He’s not so sure he’ll tire of feeling this very specific way any time soon.
“So? How did it go?” Sakusa asks him.
“Well, believe it or not, but they’re actually going to be pulling some of my teeth out.”
Sakusa cranks up the washing machine. “It’s not cavities? Is it?”
“Wisdom teeth,” Atsumu says and by saying it out loud, he grows a little bit lightheaded and he lets himself sink into their couch. “Have you had any of your wisdom teeth extracted, Omi-kun?”
“Uhh, just one tooth if I remember correctly,” he tells Atsumu. “When I was still in university.”
“How did it go? Did it hurt?”
“They used anesthesia so it was virtually painless,” Sakusa answers. "It was localized anesthesia though so I was awake the entire time."
Atsumu sits up with a jolt. "I'm going to be awake the entire time ?!"
Sakusa finally emerges from the laundry area, lines of worry forming on his forehead. "I do believe you can request for them to actually sedate you." A pause later and Atsumu sees him crossing the room to eventually join him on the couch. "You know I could always come with you to your next appointment."
It's undoubtedly a rather attractive offer, one which Atsumu is perfectly aware would significantly make the entire ordeal that much more tolerable. But until now he’s still incapable of shaking off this nagging thought of someone having been able to obtain that one obscure photo from their youth training camp days and how certain fan behavior that’s generally out of their control can possibly snowball into something more unfavorable that Atsumu isn’t willing to take any risks.
“I think I’ll be fine,” Atsumu assures him and he’s hoping that the false bravado he’s putting on is convincing enough to quell whatever bit of concern that Sakusa is fostering.
And Sakusa doesn’t counter him, but instead he beckons Atsumu to scoot closer and Atsumu obliges, melting effortlessly into the forthcoming embrace that has always just been the most befitting remedy in any time of crisis.
***
Rain comes down in sheets on the fated day of Atsumu's wisdom teeth extraction and for Sakusa, his once regulated expressions of unease for Atsumu have decidedly risen to the surface because he can only pretend for the sake of Atsumu's ego for so long when Atsumu has already unintentionally spilled his tea twice , and for the most part rambling away like a well-oiled machine of jittery cogs and anxious gears. Sakusa is worried that if he doesn't step in to actually placate him soon, he might get into more unwanted messes--both literally and figuratively.
Sakusa guides him to the couch. "Hey, you'll live through it. In fact, it'll be over before you even know it."
His words of consolation are able to make a dent somehow because Atsumu deflates a little on the couch, ounces of tension finally leaving his body.
"I've already decided that they should just completely put me under," Atsumu announces although it appears that he's saying it more to himself than to anyone.
He has about an hour left until his scheduled appointment and so Sakusa plops down beside him on the couch. He reaches for Atsumu's slackened shoulder and slowly curls his fingers around it, not exactly to bestow a firm squeeze, but to just let the familiar weight of him serve as enough comfort for now. And Sakusa doesn't miss the way Atsumu is gradually leaning into the touch.
Eventually they do share an embrace on the couch, Atsumu's head perched on Sakusa's shoulder, their arms having slithered around the other like haphazardly grown vines.
"I better go," Atsumu says and already he sounds less likely to faint at a moment's notice.
"Don't forget to take an umbrella." Sakusa watches him rise from the couch and they wave at each other before Atsumu disappears outdoors.
Sakusa stares at where Atsumu had stood by the genkan then he's plucking out his phone from his pocket.
To: MSBY Meian Shugo
Captain, I was wondering if I could borrow your car for today. Thank you.
***
It'll be over before you even know it. It'll be over before you even know it. It'll be over before you even know it.
Atsumu allows Sakusa's words to bounce around in his head like a meditative chant. However at some point, he begins to develop this fear that the constant repetition of the statement might eventually rob it all of its meaning until they devolve to just words and he's back to being condemned to a mere bundle of nerves.
His name finally gets called and he ambles to the back of the clinic where the same dentist chair from before awaits. The assistant hands him a clipboard attached to which is a piece of document that asks him a slew of questions, some of which involving anesthetics.
"Umm, can I request for the kind of anesthesia that just completely knocks me out?" he asks the assistant.
The assistant looks vaguely amused. Atsumu wouldn’t put it past him to find it especially hilarious to witness a six-foot tall adult still choosing to be caught in this precarious dilemma. "Of course, sir. Although you have to disclose any and all health conditions on that paper there so we can avoid giving you the kind that may possibly endanger you during the procedure."
Atsumu returns his attention to the clipboard and in the midst of filling out the items on the paper, the dentist arrives.
“Is everything all ready?” the dentist asks while pulling on a pair of nitrile gloves.
Fuck it.
And Atsumu is relinquishing the clipboard to the assistant who scans it briefly before showing it to the dentist.
The dentist peers over at him. “General anesthesia?”
“I would just rather prefer to not know what goes on while you pull out my teeth,” Atsumu puts it bluntly.
“Fair enough,” the dentist says. “Also, you don’t appear to have any pre-existing conditions that would cause you to react negatively to it, so whatever makes you more comfortable.”
Atsumu exhales a sigh of relief and after the precursory setting up--slipping on the dental bib, reclining the chair completely, and eventually hooking him up to an IV--he finally senses all the rigors of apprehension dissipate, sending him afloat to where he hopes pain is just a far-fetched fantasy.
***
The only way to describe Atsumu’s current state of being is as if he were underwater. Everything feels sluggish and sound seems to travel at a much slower pace. Also there’s a dull pressure somewhere around his jaw, but he’s too much in a haze to properly discern if it’s an external one or if it’s coming from inside his mouth which right now seems to be stuffed with something. He’s somehow able to comprehend what the assistant is trying to tell him and he does his best to be responsive.
“We’ll get you a cab to take you home, okay?”
Atsumu’s head feels like it’s filled with nothing but rocks and it takes him a great deal to nod in agreement. Has he even left the dentist chair? Why is it so irritatingly bright everywhere?
“Sir, it looks...has come...pick you up.”
He doesn’t exactly know how he managed to get to the reception area where he sees someone standing by the entrance of the clinic. He takes a gander and assumes it might just be the cab driver. And when he’s being led to the cab, it’s like walking knee-deep in a muddy field--all wobbly legs and stiff knees. The cab driver fastens Atsumu’s seatbelt for him and once the said driver is behind the wheel, Atsumu carefully turns to look at him, his mouth moving in a way that’s so strangely foreign to him.
“Y’know...you kinda look like my boyfriend,” he slurs.
***
Sakusa had most definitely been on the brink of laughter when he saw Atsumu for the first time post-extraction, all puffy-cheeked and swaying into the reception area like a delirious drunk.
“I’ll take it from here,” he had told the assistant as he linked his arm with Atsumu’s in order to steady him.
“Here’s an ice pack for his jaw.” The assistant had carefully placed the still cold and solid material on his open hand. “Make sure he gets plenty of rest and also if he starts to feel any pain, especially after the anesthesia has worn off completely, he can just take some painkillers.”
“Noted.”
“Oh and he can only have soft foods for the next few days,” the assistant had called after him.
Sakusa, remembering the tub of chocolate ice cream he had already purchased and stowed inside their freezer, just gives an affirming nod.
“Y’know...you kinda look like my boyfriend.”
Sakusa side-eyes Atsumu and he wonders as to the potency of the anesthesia that had been administered to him because Atsumu is very much so lacking in coherence. But Sakusa is too weak for this kind of Atsumu whose signature honey brown eyes have glossed over with confusion and everything about him is too dangerously adorable that it’s difficult to not want to enthuse him in this once-in-a-lifetime moment.
“Really now?” Sakusa says.
“Yeah like...my boyfriend is tall and hot...kinda like a Greek statue.” Atsumu’s speech is garbled, but Sakusa is still able to make some sense of it. “But he’s not Greek he’s Japanese. Kinda like how you look, but he’s hotter and taller.”
Sakusa successfully holds in a laugh. “So what is he like? This boyfriend which you speak of?”
And Atsumu is rearranging the ice pack he’s been holding against his jaw. “He’s like...like” --and Atsumu shows him a scowl-- “like that. Like all frowny face and stuff? You know? But he’s the absolute best in the entire world.”
Something inexplicably warm begins to unfurl in Sakusa’s chest and it makes an upward crawl to his cheeks.
“My boyfriend is really kind,” Atsumu continues. “And patient and kind and he cares a lot even when he’s acting like he’s not, but I see it. He can pretend all he wants, but I see it all. Did I say he’s kind? He’s very kind.”
Sakusa’s throat is now a desert and in order to prevent his brain from utterly imploding, he finds himself reaching for his phone and he angles it so he can capture Atsumu on screen. Then he presses record just in time for more of Atsumu’s stream of consciousness revelations.
“I’m so happy my boyfriend chose me,” Atsumu drawls, gauze-stuffed mouth muddling his speech. “I’m working really hard so he doesn’t regret it. I hope he’s not regretting it so far. I don’t. I’m having the time of my life.”
I don’t regret it, Sakusa thinks to himself. Not once. Not ever.
For the rest of the car ride home, Atsumu alternates between extended pauses and a rapidly manic exposition of anything he can babble on about senselessly. He’d talk about the sun and the clouds, then he would take a pause. Then he would resume and go off on an impassioned speech about rice balls and volleyballs. Sakusa made sure that it was all caught on camera. And as he saves the last video and checks his camera roll, he suddenly remembers Inarizaki High’s team banner, the one that had flashed with great pride over Atsumu and his team when they had faced each other at the Interhigh for the first time.
Who needs memories?
Atsumu always connected with it. Sakusa has yet to grasp it in the same way that Atsumu does, but as Sakusa glances at his phone, he sees all the memories it beholds and he concludes he’s not ready to appreciate that saying to its fullest extent just yet. Hopefully not for a long time.
***
Atsumu is in so much pain when he comes to. He is surprised to see himself already tucked comfortably in their bed, but this initial state of bewilderment is swiftly put in the back burner when the unrelenting shock of pain comes to the forefront causing him to groan.
“Oh good you’re awake.”
Sakusa situates himself by the edge of their bed and he’s holding a mug in one hand and a bottle of painkillers in the other. “On a scale of one to ten, how badly does it hurt?”
“A whole twelve,” Atsumu whines.
He hears Sakusa sigh. “I’m really sorry that it hurts, but do you think you can stand up? I believe it’s time that you should be taking out the gauze from your mouth already so you can drink your painkillers.”
The trust that Atsumu would usually have for his motor skills has not yet been completely restored, but he musters all the strength that he could channel to his limbs and after he’s assisted out of bed by Sakusa, he’s able to waddle to the bathroom, pull out the bloody gauze and flop back in bed so he can take his painkillers. The taste of metal from all the residual bleeding coats his tongue and he grimaces after he swallows his pill.
“You want something to eat? I bought you ice cream,” Sakusa tells him. “And I got your favorite flavor.”
“Chocolate?”
Sakusa nods, smiling tenderly at him and after Atsumu answers with an eager yes, Sakusa carefully musses his hair before he retrieves a bowl of the sweet dessert from the kitchen.
“Here’s your ice cream.”
Atsumu takes the bowl from him and he’s not exactly sure if it’s the traces of anesthesia that’s making him woozy or if it’s simply this smothering feeling of being cared for that’s making his chest twist into a taut coil. Whatever it may be, it’s an oddly pleasant sensation to bask in.
While he scoops out a glob of the creamy delight, Sakusa slips beside him in bed and he’s brandishing his phone in front of Atsumu.
“Do you want to see something interesting?” And Sakusa’s unlocking his phone.
He cocks an eyebrow at Sakusa. “What is it?”
“I’m so happy my boyfriend chose me…”
Is that...my voice?!
“Omi-kun, just what the hell is that?”
And Sakusa flips the phone to show him, well, him --hopped up on anesthesia and talking out of his ass as a result. It’s horrifying.
“ Oh my god...”
However, Sakusa is snickering at the video and it’s truly one of the sounds that’s music to Atsumu’s ears. And so he doesn’t give it a second thought when he sits back to watch the smile on Sakusa’s face grow ever much wider.
“I couldn’t even understand half of what you were saying,” Sakusa says. “But it was highly entertaining regardless.”
“You should feel lucky, Omi-kun. That’s some prime, exclusive content you can’t get anywhere else,” Atsumu kids. Then he sets his bowl down on the bedside table and he leans further back until he can feel the plush texture of his pillow. “I just hope you never grow sick of me. Wouldn’t want you to use that as blackmail material.”
“I’ll never grow sick of you,” Sakusa asserts, but it comes out as a whisper as if he were guarding this promise from whatever could corrupt it. “But should that day ever come, I promise you that I’ll spend every waking moment regretting that I didn’t try hard enough.”
Atsumu feels his eyelids grow heavy and he flutters them close. “Don’t regret, Omi-kun. Just remember.”
The last thing Atsumu hears before his exhaustion wins him over is a soft ‘I will'. And he’s certain that once he drifts off, it’s with a smile on his face.