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Atsumu says it first. He says those three little words, the kind that build castles and kick up raging storms.
I love you, Kiyoomi.
He whispers it on a Thursday night, over cups of jasmine tea and a movie that makes Sakusa cry. Atsumu wipes away his tears with some profound fondness, and then the syllables fall like cherry blossom petals in springtime. They are said like they were made to be, so tender and true, and Sakusa does not return them. He offers no audible, ‘I love you too,’ but he feels it. He always has. Atsumu is understanding, smiling sweetly and a little sad when Sakusa’s reply doesn’t come.
“Whenever yer ready, Omi. I just wanted ta tell ya, s’all,” he murmurs, stroking the side of the curly-haired mans chin. He nuzzles into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.
I love you too, Atsumu. I love you how the sun kisses the sky, he thinks.
“Okay. I’m sorry,” is what he says instead. The truth sits idly by.
The world didn’t shatter, when Sakusa fell in love with Atsumu. Love flowed through him slowly but all at once, like water down a sparkling stream. Now, loving Atsumu is something he knows is inevitable, something fated and simple. The emotion is always there, even when it hides.
It is easy like breathing crisp air, like snuggling close, close, close together under blankets and starry skies. Yet, actually telling him is less straightforward. That part is more delicate, more constricting on Sakusa’s lungs. He often wonders how something so easy to feel can be so hard to say out loud.
Sakusa was raised in a Victorian-style home, one with vaulted ceilings and empty, loveless rooms. He was given toys and a nanny and space, space, space, first too much and later just enough. He was taught to manage his money, to never make mistakes, and to quiet down until he himself was a tiny whisper. Affection never came to him like criticism did. Materialism replaced tenderness for eighteen years of his youth. His parents have his same dark eyes and the same milky porcelain of his skin. His mother has a beauty mark above her lip, and his father has inky curls not unlike his own. Even now, at twenty-three years old, Sakusa is unsure of what else they have in common. They never call to tell him. And if they did, he wouldn’t answer. He no longer cares to know.
Atsumu was his first enemy, his first tender touch, and the first special someone to be worth his foreign smile. Atsumu’s family is different from his own. They are made of togetherness and holiday’s and Sunday morning love. Atsumu gets his eyes from his mother and that bright, proud laugh from his father. He has his mother’s kindness and his father’s stubborn pride. Sakusa meets the family three months into their relationship. Atsumu’s parents greet Sakusa with a “welcome home” that can only be described as something new, as something hot that burns through all of his icy cold. Sakusa learns the art of living life from him; the art of merely being. He learns how untouched, how unmoved he has been from Atsumu’s family and suddenly, life changes. So does he.
Vulnerability is nothing shameful. It is not what Sakusa is used to but it is something he has grown to cherish. It took them time, years of pining and avoidance to get where they are. But now, what they have is good; solid. With Atsumu he craves closeness and touch, the locking of lips until he’s dizzy. So, it should be easy to let go around Atsumu, for the setter has gotten closer than anyone else. It isn’t easy, though. It is messy and stripping, all the nakedness of truth. Because being seen has always been the worst offender of all. Sakusa has never been taught how , is the thing. There is no instructions manual for learning how to love, no ‘to-do’ list for baring your soul. What is the right way? What wrong move will break all these pretty pieces?
All the loneliness Sakusa once told himself he wanted tastes bitter, nowadays. Atsumu is too sweet and warm to keep at a distance, all honeysuckle and sunbeams. He is crumbling all of the cloudy sky walls surrounding Sakusa with ease, leaving pieces of himself in their wake. Sakusa has memorized such beautiful, intimate parts of him, like his summer bronzed skin and kiss swollen lips. He knows all of the blond's favorite stories to tell and the taste of his rich, velvety laughter when it’s pressed against his mouth.
Atsumu hates white chocolate, raw salmon, and lavender-scented candles. He hates doing yoga but he still tries to, only because it makes Sakusa smile. Sakusa can feel Atsumu’s love in the way that he says his name, all saccharine and so slow, so hush hush hush.
It is those parts of Atsumu — all the gentle touches from his strong hands — that make Sakusa afraid. He is afraid of watching Atsumu leave after he’s found so much inside of the blond to cherish, like his pearly smiles and beating heart. For the first fragile time in his life, Sakusa wants someone to stay.
When the truth is spoken, it stays. It cannot be erased. So, when Sakusa says ‘I love you,’ he’ll have nowhere left to hide. It will make all of this, all of these toothpaste kisses and lazy weekends real. It will make them breakable.
Atsumu is asleep beside him now, bundled in thick blankets and the glow of morning light. It has been three weeks since those three little words, the ones that don’t feel all that little at all. Atsumu has yet to repeat them, and Sakusa hates that he wants for him to. He threads his fingers through sunny locks, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. The silence of the room coats him in baby pink and sky blue, a little sweet and a little scared that Atsumu will disappear. Sakusa watches every flutter of his closed eyes, every twitch of his full lips. It all fills his chest with fondness and an ache that needs soothing.
Sakusa bends his face down, pressing small kisses to the top of Atsumu’s head. He smells like cinnamon and the shea shampoo he always steals from Sakusa’s shower; he smells like coming home. He hopes that these kisses can reach him, even while he’s whisked away in sugarcane dreams.
“I dread the day that I lose you,” Sakusa whispers into the silence of the bedroom, lips still brushing against Atsumu’s temple. Its been ficve months together, five months of learning how to warm up and open his doors to someone else. No amount of months feel like they will be enough for him anymore. His eyes burn with something cruel, and his mouth tastes like fear.
“Stop dreadin’ stupid shit n’go back ta bed,” a sleepy voice replies. Suddenly, a strong arm is slipping around Sakusa’s waist, tugging and tightening. Atsumu is awake beside him. Sakusa gasps at the motion, glaring over at his boyfriend who has now popped open a droopy eye.
“It is not ‘stupid shit,’ you ass. I thought you were asleep,” he grumbles, cheeks flushing petal pink from embarrassment.
Atsumu merely chuckles, pulling him closer still. He kisses the two beauty marks that rest above his brow, slow and chaste.
“Well, ya thought wrong. G’mornin’, darlin',” he mumbles sleepily. The molasses drawl of Atsumu’s voice washes over him like ocean waves, welcoming and cleansing for the soul. It twists Sakusa’s stomach in knots, the pining he feels for someone who is right there. “What time s’it?”
Sakusa curls closer to him, chasing all the warmth that Atsumu comes with.
“Sappy. It’s around ten o'clock, I think. Not too sure, though. Not that it matters, we don’t have practice today.”
The blond hums. “You love when I’m sappy, ya can’t fool me. N’stop tryna bully me outta bed! I feel like I could sleep tha whole month, Foster has been kickin’ our asses lately.”
Sakusa rolls his eyes, all fond. “Maybe. Anyways, I’m not ‘bullying you out of bed’ in the slightest. Has anyone told you lately that you’re dramatic?”
“Yeah. You told me that last night, ya jerk.”
Sakusa laughs at that, small but genuine, before the quiet returns. Atsumu taps away at some puzzle game on his phone, sucking his teeth whenever he gets stuck on what move to make next. Sakusa pretends to pay attention, leaning on his shoulder all the while. The quiet isn’t heavy but it doesn’t settle the way it usually does. There is something inside of the room with them, floating just above Sakusa’s halo of curls like a stormy cloud. His nerves are tainting him today, shooting coal and soot in his veins. Atsumu must catch it because he squeezes Sakusa’s hand, beckoning his attention.
“What are ya thinkin’ bout, Omi?” Atsumu asks suddenly, abandoning level thirty-one of his game. He startles Sakusa from his whirling thoughts and those golden eyes bore into his own, smoldering and chock full of syrupy concern. Sakusa feels his breath catch in his throat, thick and heavy like a stone. Atsumu is beautiful even when he’s worried, and he is gone, gone, gone for him.
“Nothing. I’m just thinking of you, I guess,” he answers, sending a small smile his way. The words fall easily, and they sound lighter than he feels.
He watches the beautiful curl of those pink lips, pearly teeth peeking through. “Why think ‘bout me when m’right here? Talk to me instead, Omi," He replies, fingertips dancing up the side of Sakusa’s arm.
He tries to push away the shiver that rips through him, all from such a simple touch.
This is the problem,’Sakusa thinks. He knows that Atsumu is here now. He is ever present and handsome in this queen sized bed. He is full of wonder with his sparkling eyes and cheshire cat grin. He is here, right here, but for how long? And what the hell will Sakusa do when he’s not?
The discomfort that the thought brings must show on his face because Atsumu’s brows furrow, lips pulling into a frown.
“Kiyoomi? What’s goin’ on with ya, babe? Yer bein’ weird.”
He cocks up a brow. “Weird?”
“Not weird weird. Just.. yer energy seems off this mornin’, ya know?”
Sakusa scoffs. “My energy? Really?”
Atsumu frowns, flicking his forehead. This earns a glare from Sakusa but the blond pays it no mind.
“Shuddup, I’m bein’ serious! You seem sad, talk to me. I can’t read yer mind,” he murmurs, voice dropping to that low, sweet hush of sound that melts Sakusa like snow in the sun.
He swallows, averting his gaze as he gathers himself. Sakusa is steel strong and blunt with his words, made of quick retorts and unfaltering wit. He is one-hundred ninety-two centimeters of polished muscle and long, steady limbs. But he still feels so small sometimes, stuck in the shadow of his doubts. At that moment, he wishes Atsumu could read his mind. It would be easier than saying these six words, the ones much larger than the first three:
I am afraid of losing you.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
Sakusa’s face twists into something like a grimace. “Promise not to laugh.”
Atsumu sighs, grabbing his hand and giving it a soft, reassuring squeeze. The touch is worth the very Earth. “I can’t promise that. S’ me we’re talkin’ ‘bout. But I do promise not to judge ya fer whatever it is.”
He nods, accepting the response as good enough before speaking once more.
“How did you know that you love me?” he blurts. Atsumu’s eyes blow wide before settling into something gentle, something that looks like he understands.
“Do you remember that time we went hikin’ with tha team, and tha two of us got lost by that real big dip in tha mountain?”
Sakusa shudders at the memory. “How could I forget?” he grumbles.
Atsumu laughs. “Yeah, well you really didn’t want to go with us, from what I remember. But I practically begged you to come along, so you did. You didn’t even fight it fer that long. At first, I thought ya didn’t wanna ‘cause you didn’t want to be touchin’ a buncha rocks n’dirt, so I brought you those old gloves and some extra wipes. But when we got lost together, I realized it was actually ‘cause you were scared of heights. Ya kept lookin’ down and shakin’, and you weren’t talkin’ to me when we got lost. Even with all of that though, ya never once tried to ruin it fer me. You still came and ya kept climbin’, all ‘cause you knew I really wanted to get to tha top. We weren’t together at tha time either, but I remember lookin’ at ya and all I wanted to do was hold you. I wanted to take all of yer fear and throw it down tha damn mountain. And then I realized that even though yer tough as shit - and I know damn well that you can handle yerself - I still want to bundle you up n’keep ya from everythin’ bad. Yer too good fer all tha bad out there, even when you try to make yerself seem mean.”
Sakusa burns holes into the bed, head tilted down as tears threaten to fall. “Even when I’m afraid?”
Atsumu kisses his wrist one, two, three times, feather light and ever welcome. It is all kind and far too much to lose.
“Especially when yer afraid. I love you for who ya are, Kiyoomi. Even fer the parts of you that ya might not like yerself. Now, why are you askin’ me somethin’ like that?”
Sakusa shrugs, a subtle rise and fall of his shoulders. He has yet to meet Atsumu’s eyes, for he worries about what he will find inside of them.
“You didn’t say it again, after that first time. I thought that you changed your mind, I guess.”
Even without looking, he can feel Atsumu’s frown. “Omi, of course not. I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable if you weren’t ready, s’all. I didn’t mean to make ya sad about it.”
He shakes his head. “You didn’t make me sad, don't be stupid. And I’m not not ready. Or uncomfortable. It’s just… odd.”
“Odd?”
My parents never really told me that they loved me.
I don’t know if I’m doing any of this right.
“I’m not used to it.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll just hafta say it lots so that you never forget it, hm?” Atsumu says, his voice light and so full of something sure. He wonders where Atsumu finds that assurance, the natural trust that he will still love Sakusa past tomorrow. He hopes that unwavering trust will stay, even on the days that he is hard to love.
“How can you be so sure like that?”
“What?”
“How are you so sure that you aren’t going to get tired of me, Atsumu?”
A beat of silence passes between them. Atsumu scoots forward, nimble fingers cupping his jaw to wipe away something wet. He hadn’t realized that he was crying.
“Kiyoomi, you gotta look at me fer a second. Please?” he coaxes.
He sniffs, tilting his head up ever so slightly to meet Atsumu’s eyes. The setter looks plagued with worry but he doesn’t say so. Worry and pity have always made Sakusa itch in all of the wrong ways, and Atsumu knows that better than anyone. He cares enough to keep those words quiet. But when the blond opens his arms for Sakusa to bury himself into, he goes without question.
Sakusa feels like all starving things do, with bones and skin that beg for touch. With Atsumu, his is not too proud to crave.
“Listen, I’m new to all of this shit, too. I get it. And you know, ya can never be too sure of nothin’ in life. But there’s not anythin’ in tha whole world I’ve been more sure of than you. Ya just gotta trust me.”
Sakusa swallows down the words like they're made of milk and honey. Maybe they are.
Trust. Something easy to say and harder to feel.
Love. Something hard to choke out, but the sunny blond is making it simpler.
His own ‘I love you’ is coming. It bounces on the tip of his tongue, like a diver at the edge of a board; it begs him to take the plunge. And so, he does. He dives deep, deep, deep, because some chances shine too bright to ignore. Some chances have daffodil smiles and eyes that keep him warm. Those are the chances he needs to take.
“I don’t know what I’m doing half of the time. I am not going to be… certain, all of the time. But I do know that I love you, Atsumu.”
The words feel right to say, and then the anxiety dulls in comparison. It echoes within him, all the gilded light and sound of being loved by someone made of music; of loving someone who loves him in return. Atsumu smiles the way the golden sun blinks the world awake.
“We’ll take it one step at a time, Kiyoomi. Because I know that you love me. And I love ya too.”
When Kiyoomi dove, the waters were safe.