Work Text:
Kiyoomi walks slowly on the sidewalk leading to his apartment as he holds a plastic bag filled with some vegetables and meat. The fall wind howls, ruffling his hair curls which have now almost reached his lips, shadowing his face.
His eyes are fixed on the glass window of a clothing store as he is about to cross the street. A massive poster ad, over two meters long, depicting a gorgeous figure wearing eyeglasses was attached there. His hair is golden, and he has it cut and styled in a neat and smooth way
That is a kind of hairstyle that Kiyoomi hates because he would much prefer if that golden hair was clean from gel and hairspray; disheveled like straw and soft as it is. He used to love that hair so much that Kiyoomi could spend hours playing with it while reading or watching TV, enjoying the fine strands of gold brushing through the skin between his fingers.
It was long ago.
It feels funny now; being stunned at that face after a long time as if Kiyoomi just see it for the first time, yet also desperately trying to deny the sense of familiarity in his hands—of the softness and the smoothness of that hair, feeling so real as if the last time he touched it was two hours ago, not two years.
Now is the second year, in October, without Miya Atsumu by his side.
"Tsumu, what do you want as a present?"
"Hmm ... I just want you."
"Huh? Why me? I'm here, though, not going anywhere. "
"Well, promise me then, now, next year, and years after, you're not going anywhere. That’d be the present."
"Like I could go anywhere without you."
"Ugh, sap."
Kiyoomi remembers, that there was a time when he worshiped Atsumu too severely, greedily basked himself in the warmth of Atsumu’s hug, clinging to that man's body —both literal and figurative way— because Kiyoomi had loved, but never loved that much.
"Atsumu, when are you coming home? What time is it already?" asked Kiyoomi on the cell phone. Her hand rubbed the back of her neck, feeling deeply agitated.
"It's only 10 o'clock, Omi. Why, though? This event is not over yet, I feel bad if I go home first," Atsumu replied. A heavy sigh was heard. Kiyoomi could imagine Atsumu now, with his furrowed brows and pouting lips, the annoyed expression that had been appearing too often lately on his lover's face. "You don't have to wait for me-"
"Tsumu, I'll finish yours," said a voice that Kiyoomi didn't know whose.
Too clear means too close. Kiyoomi tried his best to ignore this uncomfortable heat in his chest, or the invasion of questions in his head.
"Yes, just finish it," said Atsumu to the owner of the voice earlier. "Omi? You go to sleep first, okay? I promise that after the event is over I will immediately go home, not going anywhere,” said Atsumu. The tone was smoother now, more soothing.
Kiyoomi closed his eyes, counting one, two seconds. "Okay. Don't drink too much. Please let me know if there is anything," he said, giving up.
"Of course, Omi my dear. Don't worry, I will definitely come back to you in one piece no less."
Kiyoomi grinned, despite himself.
Kiyoomi remembers, that there was a time when jealousy bothered him so often, when Atsumu was shining too brightly and blinded those around him so Kiyoomi had to desperately hold back, when Atsumu could easily overturn Kiyoomi's emotions in just an instant, when Atsumu was so capable of making him the happiest person in the world with just a kiss on the forehead but also hurt him so much only by rising his voice.
They hugged tightly.
"Since when did we become like this, Omi?" Asked Atsumu.
His voice was low and hoarse due to their fight; shouting and screaming because they had refused to hear each other, crying over problem after problem that seemed to have no end.
"I don't know, Atsumu," Kiyoomi replied helplessly. His face was wet with tears that never dried up. His hands tightly hugged the body of the man who had accompanied him for years, who repeatedly made him fly and fall again, who had been hurting him and also he had hurt all this time.
Kiyoomi let go of the hug, staring at Atsumu's face. His cheeks grew thinner, accentuating his high cheekbones. His lashes were wet, with shadows beneath his eyes that had been getting darker ever since. His eyes were red, but so wide, so clear, reflecting Kiyoomi face that turned out just the same. Just as tired.
Since when were they no longer happy?
Kiyoomi remembers, that there was a time when all the words that came out of their mouths were deliberately and intentionally coated with poison to pain one another, when they swore at each other till their throats ache, when they both kept crying in each other’s arms, as they repeatedly whispered the words of love but deep inside wondering why they had to suffer this much together.
The suffering which finally prompted Kiyoomi to say "Should we just end this?"
The suffering which finally prompted Atsumu to nod his head as he said, "Yes, maybe we should. This is just the way it should be."
Now, after two years, Kiyoomi is standing in front of a large poster ad with Atsumu's face in it.
Atsumu smiles broadly, cheerful and radiant, wearing a smile that Kiyoomi used to protect, radiating the happiness that Kiyoomi used to give.
After two years, after reminiscing the time when everything felt so easy and hard at the same time, Kiyoomi finally understands …
That happiness is not something that is left to others like a responsibility, that Kiyoomi has no right to define happiness for Atsumu as easily as he defines his own, that their happiness might be different, and might as well lead them into separation.
That before becoming the person whom Kiyoomi loved, Atsumu was always himself first.
But hey, after two years, Kiyoomi also notices, that his wounds are no longer as bad as they used to be, that his longing is no longer as frequent as before, that his smile is no longer as fake as it used to be.
Maybe it's true what Atsumu said, this is just how it should be.
Because now Atsumu is no longer haunting him. Because, finally, their happiness is no longer destructive.
Kiyoomi turns around and steps forward, leaving Atsumu who is now only a story.
And I know you should take yourself
Feel the rhythm life goes on again
Though I ain't sure it's really how we meant
I'll feel settled in a simple sense
As I think of you
Less and less