Chapter Text
Over the past few months, Atsumu has learned to spend a lot of time in his head.
It wasn’t a conscious decision. It mostly just happened because he didn’t know how to voice his thoughts.
That doesn't mean he didn’t have people he could turn to. For one, even with the distance between them, Osamu is always just a phone call away. Even with the distance, Osamu is still the first person Atsumu thinks about when he feels weighed down by his thoughts.
Then, if not his brother, his teammates and friends are always at arms reach. He sees them every week, even when they are on breaks. Hinata lives in the same complex as him, so naturally, he spends a lot of time with him. Bokuto lives two buildings down, and when he isn’t busy with his soulmates he is crashing Atsumu’s apartment; stealing his PlayStation controller as he engrosses himself in the countless games Atsumu owns.
There is also the group chat where all his teammates manage to keep a steady conversation going. On the side, Atsumu has conversations with each of his teammates quite often, and though it’s mainly about volleyball, he knows that if he made the conversation more personal no one would object or take him lightly.
Lastly, Atsumu has Sakusa.
He's had Sakusa for two years now, but just last year Sakusa went from being just another teammate to the soulmate Atsumu has waited all his life for.
Sakusa bears the same soulmate mark Atsumu has. He has called out his name and accepted their bond. He is Atsumu's soulmate in every sense of the term that Atsumu has learned to accept over the years— and up until two months ago, Sakusa had been his boyfriend. Yet even then, Sakusa was the last person he ever considered sharing his thoughts with; the main reason being that his soulmate was the reason for the turmoil in his head.
It started the day Atsumu first saw Sakusa’s mark.
Atsumu remembers that day vividly. He remembers laughing along to something the captain had said while he washed off the shampoo from his hair; remembers casually letting his gaze fall on all his teammates as he closed the tap, reaching for his towel to dry his face; remembers the light blush he felt on his cheeks when he caught sight of Sakusa drying his body; but more than anything, he remembers his eyes casually fall to Sakusa's lower body only to feel the ground being stolen from him when he gets a good look at Sakusa’s bare ass.
(His mouth moves before his mind has completely caught on. He screeches, shouts, gets everyone's attention and makes the whole situation a spectacle. Sakusa reacts like, well Sakusa, and Atsumu is not really surprised.
He is hurt, however, when Sakusa admits how long he has known they have matching marks. Hurt enough to shut down his emotions long enough to gather the strength to walk away. He leaves the showers and then the change room with only a towel covering his lower body and finds a place to hide as he lets his mind make sense of the situation.
He doesn’t want me, is the first concrete thought in his head. It doesn’t surprise Atsumu, but it does twist his heart and suck the oxygen out of his lungs. Almost instantly Atsumu is reminded of all the times he had thought that a possibility when caught deep in a slump.)
What if they see my mark and decide they don’t want me? He once asked his brother when Suna found his soulmate; when his insecurities were seeping through his confident front. He doesn’t know why it affected him so much, seeing Suna suddenly find his soulmate (after a match, out of all scenarios) when he didn’t have a physical bond like Atsumu.
Weren’t physical bonds suppose to be superior? Or at least, didn’t they guarantee finding your soulmate to be much easier?
Those are all petty thoughts but Atsumu can’t help entertaining them. It’s probably one of his less redeeming qualities, belittling those around him because he sees himself at a higher standing. Though Suna has always been a friend he values, someone he knows stands by his side, yet Atsumu stupidly lets his jealousy and insecurities resent him for finding his soulmate before he can.
Alas, talking to Osamu that time helped. Atsumu picked himself up and eventually found the heart to congratulate his friend with an honest heart. Tracing his mark always helped; letting his fingers run down each line on his thigh while he thought about how somewhere out there, someone bared the same mark.
(Touching his mark while he lies in the storage, is what lets him put that first thought aside to let his mind continue to process the situation.
Sakusa is my soulmate, is the second clear statement stamped in his head. Atsumu lets those words sing in his head loudly to prevent any self-sabotaging and deprecating feelings from rising. Sakusa Kiyoomi, Atsumu’s heart beats to his name loud and long enough for him to nearly miss Bokuto’s presence when he joins him in the storage room.
Bokuto doesn’t say anything for a while and that's enough for Atsumu to let his mind come up with enough to say to reassure his friend. Atsumu laughs, making sure to keep his voice from cracking as he rants about soulmates, about how he had his doubts, about how surprised he feels. He talks about Sakusa, curses his name and the fact that his tattoo is well hidden but somehow a better sight than Atsumu’s.
Then he remembers how it came to be that Sakusa began showering with them and even thanks Bokuto for his part in all this. Bokuto is patient with him, he knows the right things to say, and soon enough Atsumu feels magically better— or at least, he feels well enough to say the right things and escape his friend’s watchful eyes to wallow privately.
Yet, by the time he makes it home his talk with Bokuto lightened his mood enough to alter the direction of his thoughts. He gets excited and his earlier surprise overtakes him as he barely manages to dial his brother's number to share the news with him. Osamu picks up sounding irritated, but it doesn’t deter him. He gets Sakusa’s name out and eventually after some inquiring, the rest of an explanation.
His brother, because they are twins and probably operate on the same frequency, asks the one question Atsumu asked Sakusa the moment he found out. ‘How long?’ How long is all he says but Atsumu knows exactly what he means. He falters, nearly chokes and then with whatever strength he can muster remarks with a ‘does it matter?’
It does matter. It matters a lot. It matters from that moment on and onwards. It’s all that matters; it’s all that ever mattered each step of the way.
Does it matter? Atsumu remarks and his brother lets it go and Atsumu forces himself to move along. He takes a deep breath, goes to sleep, and wakes up ready to face the music. Atsumu swallows back his doubts and questions and any other insecurity that threatens to break his resolve and he acts.)
He smiles and jokes. He stands confident and firm. He reaches out to Sakusa and Sakusa meets him halfway.
(“Miya Atsumu,” Sakusa is the first to say when they are finally talking about it, or more like when they finally have a private moment together. (They don’t really talk about it, Atsumu doesn’t want to bring it up and Sakusa never does either.) “Miya Atsumu.” Loud and clear. Atsumu hears him and his heart skips a beat, he feels his insides warm and he nearly chokes on his words when he goes to reply.
“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”
Sakusa-san, Atsumu called him when they first met at the training camp, back in high school. Then, Kiyoomi-kun, when they faced each other at nationals. Omi-Omi, and any other variation of that nickname came when he joined the Jackal.
Right at that moment—saying his name as he accepts the bond—the words feel bitter.)
Despite that, Atsumu swallows down that bitterness and buries it deep inside him, alongside the growing objections and probing rebuttals every time Sakusa takes his hand.
It happens a lot— Sakusa taking his hand, it happens a lot. It’s one of the many changes in their relationship after calling out each other’s names. Atsumu thinks it’s one of the more surprising changes. Sakusa touches him without a care in the world. He hates dirt, filth, anything gross, anything unclean, and though Atsumu is none of that, if he were, Sakusa would still probably reach out for him.
Atsumu didn’t expect that change but he welcomed it. He rejoiced in it. The truth of the matter is, it gave him strength— validation. So he played along with it. He lets Sakusa pull him closer, he lets him hold on tightly, he lets him wash away his insecurities with every touch because this is everything Atsumu has ever wanted.
This is his soulmate.
Atsumu has dreamed of this since he first paid attention to the mark on his thigh. From the moment his parents explained what it meant, Atsumu felt it in his heart; that longing, yearning, desire to find whoever fate thought belonged by his side. Atsumu would trace his mark and think, ‘in time, I’ll find you’, he would stare at his mark for hours and say, ‘no matter what, we will meet’, he would fall asleep with his legs curled up against his chest and promise, ‘wait for me, I’ll love you’.
And suddenly, he had that.
(“I found you,” Sakusa even says at times, his lips grazing Atsumu’s neck before they suck on his skin, their hands intertwined as Atsumu lies below him, caged by Sakusa’s firm legs. “Atsumu,” Sakusa whispers before kissing him, pushing his tongue forward and leaving Atsumu gasping for air.
“I love you,” he says, their bodies pressed tightly together, Sakusa thrusting two more times before they both reach their climax and then Atsumu says it back as he feels Sakusa’s hand burn against his thigh.
Sakusa love tracing Atsumu’s soulmate tattoo, his hands always find his thigh and Atsumu feels elated at the touch. His heart flutter because Sakusa touches his mark and then looks at him with love and adoration and— what else is he supposed to want? What else is there to want?)
Why is it that Atsumu can’t let that be enough? Sakusa says he loves him and he shows it with his actions. He welcomes Atsumu into his life, he gives as much as he takes.
Atsumu never once doubted his love.
Nevertheless, they ended up breaking up.
“What are you saying Atsumu?” Sakusa’s voice still rings in his ear, angry, cutting, desperate. Atsumu remembers looking him in the eyes, remembers seeing rage and hurt, remembers thinking Sakusa probably mirrored his own expression.
(“I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.” Atsumu repeats, his voice barely coming out as he continues to sob. “I can’t— I’m not okay, this isn’t okay.” Sakusa tries to reach out for him and Atsumu avoids his touch. He lets his hands drop from his face long enough to see Sakusa’s wounded expression as he stares at his hand, disbelief clear since Atsumu never once rejected his touch before.
“Miya,” Sakusa eventually tries and it hurts, it hurts hearing Sakusa call him anything but Atsumu or the many other nicknames he has gotten used to over the years. It hurts but Atsumu can understand all too clearly why he does it.
He knows his soulmate. He knows that it’s easier for Sakusa to draw boundaries by disassociation. Atsumu knows he surprised Sakusa with his words, he knows he caught him off guard and that there is nothing that prepared him for this conversation— if anything, Atsumu is the heartless one. He is the one that landed the first uppercut.
It’s only fair that Sakusa returns the favour.
“So this is it?” He hisses, the hurt in his voice slowly vanishing as his anger increases. “This— this, all this, and for what?” Atsumu meets his eyes then and Sakusa laughs. He laughs, tears running down his face even with his features firmly expressing his anger. “What am I to you? What joke did you take me for?”
With tousled hair, red-rimmed eyes, and a sore throat Atsumu tries to explain. He tries to ignore his breaking hurt, his burning lungs, and his aching body long enough to word all the emotions he feels— has felt since that day in the showers— but nothing comes out. He doesn’t make any sense and Sakusa continues to watch him with anger and disappointment until he can’t stand it any longer.
Sakusa turns away from him but he doesn’t leave. He stays because Sakusa doesn’t give up on anything. Sakusa finishes what he starts. There is not a bone in his body that wants to leave Atsumu and so he has to be the one to walk away.
It’s so unfair. Atsumu feels his heart tear itself apart with each step he takes away from Sakusa and all he can think is, it’s so unfair.
“You are just going to walk away?” Sakusa’s voice follows after him. “You are just going to leave?”)
It’s so unfair but Atsumu cannot care for fair, not when he feels cheated by the universe.
How else can he describe his situation? Atsumu spends hours and hours every day thinking and thinking about it. His body functions on memory alone while his mind never lets the topic rest.
How long?
Five years, give or take. Sakusa has known about their matching marks for five years—that’s if he never heard of Atsumu before their training camp; if he never saw him in those volleyball weekly magazines he has collected his whole life; if he didn’t follow along with the news on setters of their generation as closely as he followed everything else associated with volleyball.
Atsumu has never shied away from showing his mark. It sits on his left thigh, high on his quad. His shorts barely cover it during practice but it doesn’t stop Atsumu from rising them ever so often to show the world what he has been blessed with. He is proud of his mark, he has always been proud of his mark because it’s a mark that someone out there shares with him.
Someone out there was meant for Atsumu. Fate wrote it in the stars and for better proof, carved it on his skin. So why hide it? Atsumu could never find a reason so he showed it to everyone. He made sure everyone knew and ultimately it was so his soulmate could also know. I am here, Atsumu thinks he was saying all those times he exposed his mark, I am waiting.
Sakusa had looked at his mark and made the conscious decision to ignore it for five years— and god knows how much longer had Bokuto not broken the private shower.
At first, Atsumu had decided to believe Sakusa had a reason. There had to be a reason. So he thought to himself, I’ll listen and understand…but what was there to listen? What was there to understand when Sakusa never had anything to say.
Ask him, he tried telling himself over and over again, just ask him, because the first and only time Sakusa barely gave an excuse it hadn’t patched the gap in his heart.
(“Do you want me to figure out his intentions?” Suna once jokingly said, when he came over after their match. Atsumu laughed, shaking off the hurtful feelings those words forced out of him.
“Omi loves me,” is what he responds with, keeping his tone light so Suna’s perceptive ears don’t pick up on his inner turmoil, “for years now.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Suna grumbles, “of course a guy like him needs years to gather up the courage to confess,” he teases and then adds, without any malice, “to you.”
“Shut up,” Atsumu hisses, wrestling Suna for the T.V. remote as he tries to ignore the way those last two words echo in his head louder than anything else he tells himself as reassurance.)
What if they see my mark and decide they don’t want me?
(“He is a prick,” Osamu tells him once after his restaurant is closed and five empty beer bottles rest on their table next to takeout, “for keepin’ it a secret.” Atsumu groans because it’s the third time Osamu says something alike. “And yer an idiot for callin’ his name.”
“He is my soulmate,” Atsumu says, uncaring of the emotions that seep through his words, Osamu is too drunk to notice. “It’s fate.”
“It’s stupid.” Osamu grunts and Atsumu agrees.)
It’s stupid. This is all so stupid. Sakusa is his goddamn soulmate so why can’t Atsumu let it go? Why is his mind complicating everything? Why does he have to question every little thing? Why can’t he just move forward?
Isn’t it enough? Isn’t having his soulmate alive, within arms reach, enough? Atsumu tries to make it enough, he tries to convince himself that it’s more than enough, but his mind always disagrees. His mind always disagrees with what he thinks is logic and so Atsumu feels stuck.
Stuck in a constant state of confusion. He feels too much, he thinks too much, there is just too much going on but nothing is happening. Sakusa is no longer by his side, hasn’t been by his side for two months now, and the void in Atsumu’s heart just seems to be growing.
He can’t even talk about it. It’s all just in his head, he doesn’t know how to voice anything.
His brother holds him when Atsumu finally gathers the courage to see him a week after the break-up, pleading, begging to hear about what happened— “Tsumu, come on, breathe with me,” he says, “it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” he promises, “just tell me, please, tell me,” he tries and tries but Atsumu can only cry and selfishly seek the comfort of his brothers hold.
He can’t find the words to express what he feels; can’t even stutter through a half-assed explanation of what his mind is overthinking, at least not honestly. Never honestly. Everything he says always ends up sounding like a web of lies.
“Tsum-tsum, come on, talk to me.”
“Atsumu-san, you can always trust me with anything.”
“Hey Miya, if you need someone to talk to…”
Left and right, Atsumu is offered a shoulder to cry on. With every turn he makes, there is someone there ready to offer their support; ready to offer words of wisdom that could calm Atsumu’s inner conflict
And Atsumu wanted to accept the hands stretched out for him, he wants to voice out his thoughts but it just gets harder and harder as the days pass. Then, thanks to his silence, the people around him have turned to their own opinions and perceptions to create a narrative Atsumu has no energy to rebuke.
Nevertheless, now that's another burden on his shoulder because Sakusa has been made a villain when in reality Atsumu is the one at fault. He is the one that bottled up his doubts until they ate up his confidence and tore apart the sandcastle he built around his relationship with Sakusa.
“He doesn’t want your help!” He remembers Suna shout a month ago, eyes ablaze while Sakusa barely stood on his own two feet. That’s not true, Atsumu immediately thought, staying still and silent as Sakusa stumbled his way out of the situation, that’s not true.
(“Go home, Miya,” Sakusa says the next day before the sun rises; long after the party; long after his brother dropped him off at the hotel he was staying at with his teammates only for him to grab a cab and head straight for Sakusa’s childhood home.
Atsumu has a key so he lets himself in. Sakusa’s parents aren’t around (they are never around) but he makes sure to be quiet. He sees Sakusa’s shoes on the entrance where he leaves his own before entering, heading straight for his soulmate's room.
Sakusa is sleeping, still dressed in the clothes he wore to the party and that tells Atsumu just how much he had to drink. Why? He wonders, knowing Sakusa doesn’t have a particular taste for alcohol. Was it because of me?
“You were drunk,” Atsumu responds to Sakusa’s dismissal when he wakes up. Sakusa doesn’t look surprised to see him but Atsumu knows that’s just a front.
“Why are you here?” Sakusa then asks, reaching for the glass of water on his bedside table. He drinks the water and then the pain killer left beside it. Atsumu watches how he avoids his eyes, how his hand trembles holding the glass, how the clothes he wears clings to his body with sweat and makes every movement uncomfortable.
“You never drink this much, Omi.”
Sakusa flinches at the nickname. “We won the season, that’s reason for celebration— why are you here?”
“I was worried,” Atsumu tries, the words lacking sincerity even though they are not exactly a lie. “I wanted to apologize. For Rin.”
“I don’t remember.” Sakusa lies because he knows Atsumu will know it’s a lie. He is giving him a way out— or more like, he is cutting the conversation short so Atsumu can leave.
He should take it. He should nod, ask Sakusa how he feels and then excuse himself. That’s what Sakusa wants from him and that’s what Atsumu knows will be the right thing to do. However, that’s not what Atsumu does.)
Instead:
(“Omi,” Atsumu eventually utters, tasting the remaining traces of beer in Sakusa’s mouth, “Omi, please,” he pleads, hips grinding down to meet Sakusa’s thrusts while both their hands work to remove the clothing they wear.
“Atsu, Atsu-fuck,” Sakusa moans back, one hand finding Atsumu’s head to pull him closer while the other sits on Atsumu’s left thigh.
Sakusa’s touch feels hot even though Atsumu still wears his pants. His touch burns the spot where Atsumu’s soulmate mark rests and Atsumu’s mind haywires at the realization that that’s probably something that’s never going to change.
“We can’t,” Sakusa eventually says and Atsumu agrees, nodding his head and then verbally voicing it, “we should talk, we— you, this isn’t solving anything.” Atsumu pulls away because Sakusa puts space between them by leaning back first. He then grips Atsumu’s head to lock eyes with him. “I know you, I know this won’t change anything.”
Atsumu feels his heart being pierced.
“But I will give it to you, Atsu.” Sakusa says, eyes bright and staring right into Atsumu’s soul, “I— anything. Anything you want, I’ll give it to you.” Atsumu feels his throat dry. He chokes, searching for the right words to say back but nothing leaves his mouth. Then Sakusa is pulling him closer again, pressing their foreheads together without breaking eye contact, “I need you to know that. This, right now, I’m consenting.”
Use me, he might as well just say. Let your anger out, hurt me like I hurt you.
“Atsumu—”
“Shut up,” Atsumu gasps, leaning to close the gap between them. Shutupshutupshutup.
This isn’t about revenge, Atsumu doesn’t say. This isn’t me trying to hurt you.
He doesn’t say any of that because five hours later, he will carefully remove Sakusa’s arms from around him, with even more care he will get dressed, and then lastly he will watch Sakusa’s soulmate mark, feel the alcohol he drank yesterday come up his throat, and bolt out of his room, out of his home and out of his life.)
What the fuck are you doing Atsumu? He thinks while he cries when he is back in his apartment in Osaka. Then a month later, he is tormented by similar thoughts. Why can’t you get your shit together? Why can’t you just move on?
He is my soulmate.
You broke up with him.
I love him.
He didn’t want you.
That’s not true.
He played with your feelings.
He loves me.
Does he?
“Fuck!” Atsumu shouts, hands pulling at his hair while his thoughts are interrupted by his phone ringing. Atsumu grabs his phone, sees his brother’s name in bold letters, and puts it down. “What the fuck are you doin’, Atsumu,” he speaks out loud to himself, hoping that hearing the words will have a greater effect than letting them play in his head.
His phone continues to ring for half a minute and then it stops. Atsumu doesn’t even have time to feel guilty for ignoring his brother when the ringing picks up again. Atsumu groans, not bothering to look at his phone this time as he lets it ring. Then again, not a minute later and it rings again.
Fuck me, Atsumu thinks, knowing he can’t ignore three consecutive calls from his brother. They have a code after all, and regardless of what crappy miserable drama Atsumu feels like he is caught up in, he knows the world doesn’t revolve around him.
He picks up and grunts a greeting, getting completely caught off guard by the voice that speaks back to him.
“Atsumu? Thank god!”
“Tadashi?” Atsumu questions, double-checking who’s call he picked up. His phone does read Osamu’s number, so why… oh god, Atsumu thinks, Yamaguchi’s anxious tone finally registering in his head. “Where’s Samu? What’s goin’ on?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. He just— Atsumu, you have to come.” Yamaguchi sounds anxious and scared. He is breathing heavily and pronouncing each word with a tremble in his voice. “I just woke up and he wouldn’t—I called the ambulance, I called your parents I just— I tried everything and I don’t know, I, I don’t understand.”
“Tadashi, what’s wrong with Osamu?” Atsumu asks, his body already moving in search of his jacket and house keys.
“He won’t wake up. We went to sleep and the next morning he just— he is not waking up!”
Atsumu feels his heart drop. The words repeat in his head once, twice and then the ringing starts. He vaguely hears Yamaguchi list out more details, he vaguely makes out the name of the hospital before Yamaguchi is being called over by what he assumes is a paramedic and Atsumu is left listening to the line die.
He is not dead, Atsumu knows, Yamaguchi wouldn’t be capable of saying anything if he were. He is not dead, he is not dead, Atsumu repeats and repeats in hopes of calming his beating heart. He is just not waking up, the treacherous pessimistic part of his mind whispers back and Atsumu lunges into action.