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Kiyoomi settles into bed with a low groan. Atsumu glances at him with an amused smile.
“Feeling tired?” he enquires, tapping around on his phone. He’s sitting on the edge in his boxers and Kiyoomi shifts forward to press his face against his thigh. “Ow, don’t bite me.”
Kiyoomi pulls back with a tired smile up at his husband. “It’s been a long day. Let’s go to sleep, yeah?”
Atsumu ruffles Kiyoomi’s curls and hums. “Yeah. I’m just going to put an alarm for tomorrow. We have to leave at ten, correct?”
“Correct,” Kiyoomi agrees and rolls to his side of the bed. “We have to get up at eight if you want to shower.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Kiyoomi turns his head to the side and watches Atsumu carefully set an alarm for 7.30am. Then 7.40am, 7.50am, 8am and so on until he finally reaches 10am. Then he goes through all the alarms again, checking that the date and time is correct. Then he checks them again.
Maybe a few years ago Kiyoomi would have stopped him and forced him to go to sleep, but he’s since learned it’s better to just let Atsumu do his rituals unless he wants his husband squirming with anxiety all night. So he just watches with half-lidded eyes as Atsumu checks the alarms for the third time and then adds more alarms just in case. It’s completely unnecessary because Kiyoomi wakes up from the slightest noise and has never overslept in his life, but it makes Atsumu feel better.
“September 4th, 8am,” he mutters and then swipes up on his phone to check the date. “It is September 4th tomorrow, right?”
“It is,” Kiyoomi reassures in a low voice and laces his fingers together to crack his knuckles. “They’re all correct, babe. I can put alarms on my phone too, if it helps.”
Atsumu looks uncomfortable with the idea. “No, I’m not used to your alarm sound. What if I don’t wake up to it?”
“Okay,” Kiyoomi agrees easily. “That’s fine. Come cuddle with me, okay?”
Atsumu casts a final look on his phone and then locks it and sets it on his nightstand. He crawls under the covers and presses himself against Kiyoomi who accepts him in his arms.
“You wanna be big or little spoon?” Kiyoomi murmurs against his hair and Atsumu shakes his head.
“Let’s do it this way,” he answers and burrows closer to Kiyoomi’s neck. The latter hums and slides his hand down Atsumu’s back to his hip.
“Good night,” he whispers and presses a kiss to Atsumu’s temple. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” Atsumu mumbles back. Kiyoomi knows it’s going to hardly be the last time they’ll talk tonight. Knows Atsumu won’t stay in his arms for long either.
He lasts for a few minutes before he starts shifting restlessly. Kiyoomi loosens his hold and lets him pull back.
“I have to check them again,” Atsumu whispers and rolls over to reach for his phone. Kiyoomi hums and throws an arm over his eyes to shield them from the bright light. Atsumu mumbles numbers under his breath as he checks through the alarms.
“Do you think 8am is early enough?” Atsumu asks him in a quiet voice and Kiyoomi looks over to see him chewing his lip. “Two hours for showering, eating, choosing our clothes and I’ll have to charge my phone too. What if we oversleep? We won’t have enough time.”
“We will,” Kiyoomi reassures patiently. They do this almost every night, he’s had a lot of time to get used to it. “You know me. I’m out of the bed the moment the alarm goes off. I won’t let us be late.”
“Okay,” Atsumu agrees and locks his phone again. “The time hasn’t been put forward yet, right?”
“Nope,” Kiyoomi says and pulls Atsumu in again. “And even if it had, phones update the time automatically. It’s correct, babe.”
“Okay,” Atsumu exhales and relaxes back into Kiyoomi. It looks like he’s satisfied quicker than he usually is and Kiyoomi closes his eyes to finally go to sleep.
--
It’s funny watching Atsumu eat. His compulsions only include some specific foods, like candy and bread. Whenever he eats sandwiches, he eats the crust first and only then the rest of it. Even if the bread doesn’t have apparent crust, he’ll still eat the edges first.
“It’s not that I can’t eat it normally,” Atsumu explained one day. “I won’t die if I do it. It’s just that it puts me at ease to eat the crusts first. It’s weird doing it otherwise.”
Kiyoomi can’t comprehend what that feels like, he doesn’t spare a single thought to his food before he eats it.
Whenever Atsumu eats mashed potatoes, he smooths it down with his fork and presses indents on the surface. Then he scoops a layer into his mouth before smoothing the mash again and so it goes on. When he eats candy, he eats them in an order that looks random to Kiyoomi but Atsumu insists it makes perfect sense.
“Every bag of candy is different but the mechanisms are similar,” he argues when Kiyoomi asks him how he knows what order to eat in. “I just know what to eat first and then it continues. There’s categories, Omi.”
It doesn’t make Kiyoomi understand any better.
--
They’ve just dried off from their shower and getting ready for bed when Kiyoomi notices it: Atsumu scratching at his arm absentmindedly. The action is innocent enough but he keeps his eyes on his husband anyway.
He pats moisturizer on his cheeks and watches Atsumu rake his nails over his hip with a pleased groan. He’d put on a t-shirt because it’s starting to get colder outside but now he pulls it off so he can reach the back of his shoulders easily. Kiyoomi presses his lips together in displeasure but decides he’ll give Atsumu time to get it in control himself.
They brush their teeth side by side and Kiyoomi keeps his eyes on his husband through the mirror. Atsumu’s other hand is behind him, scratching at his lower back. “Holy fuck, we need to invest in a back scratcher or something, Omi. I’m itchy as hell.”
Kiyoomi spits in the sink, quickly turning the faucet on to let the water wash the foamy mixture down the drain before Atsumu gets nauseated. It’s another one of his icks that he can’t really explain, only that it makes him want to throw up. Kiyoomi turns to him with a frown.
“You should stop while you still can. I can take out the cold packs from the freezer if you want.”
Atsumu makes a face and spits his toothpaste out. “I can’t just stop, it feels so good.”
Kiyoomi sighs and pulls Atsumu’s hand away from his reddening skin. Atsumu allows it for a few seconds before he twitches and wrenches his hand away to scratch at his stomach. He sighs in pleasure and moves to his thigh, rinsing his toothbrush with his other hand and setting it on the counter.
“Atsumu, this is what I’m talking about. You’re not going to be able to stop soon if you keep scratching,” Kiyoomi frowns and grabs both of Atsumu’s wrists. Atsumu grimaces and he starts fidgeting uncomfortably.
“Omi, it itches,” he whines and lifts his foot to scratch it against his calf. “Please, just for five minutes. I promise I’ll stop after that.”
His whole body twitches again and Kiyoomi lets go to rub his hands up and down his sides. “Atsumu. That’s what you always say and then you end up bloody and sore. Let’s go get the cold packs, okay?”
Atsumu nods reluctantly. “Fine. It just feels so good.”
“I know it does,” Kiyoomi comforts him and leads him by the hand to the kitchen. He hears the sounds of fingernails scratching against dry skin behind him. “If it were just a normal itch, you know I wouldn’t care about you scratching but this is compulsive. You’re not going to stop until the damage is done, you understand that.”
Atsumu grumbles but doesn’t disagree. Too many times has Kiyoomi walked in their room only to see Atsumu sitting on the floor, legs bloody and inflamed, scratched raw. It’s like Atsumu doesn’t even realize in the moment what his skin looks like, too busy chasing the satisfaction of fleeting serotonin. He’s explained that he physically can’t stop himself, like his brain is screaming at him to scratch and scratch. Which is why it’s dangerous for Kiyoomi to let him indulge.
He pulls cold packs out of the freezer and turns to Atsumu who hops onto the counter, straightening his legs on the surface. Kiyoomi sets the packs over every available patch of skin, prompting Atsumu to hold a couple on his stomach while he does the same to his back.
Atsumu sighs in relief and lets his head hang back. Kiyoomi smiles softly and noses gently at the spot behind his ear. “Does it feel good?”
“You know it does,” Atsumu basically moans and adjusts one of the packs on his thigh. “I’m sorry I was difficult.”
Kiyoomi snorts. “You always are, but I made a vow when we married to always be here. I knew what I was getting into.”
“Where would I be without you?” Atsumu smiles and leans back to rest his shoulder against Kiyoomi’s chest.
“Probably in the hospital,” he laughs quietly. Atsumu grins and turns to look at him.
“You’re joking about my mental illness, you know. I could take offence,” he jokes and steals a quick kiss that Kiyoomi doesn’t even have time to respond to.
“You make more jokes than I do,” he scoffs but tucks a strand of bleached hair behind Atsumu’s hair fondly. “You know I love you no matter how much your compulsions push through. It’s not an inconvenience or a burden on me.”
“Yeah, I know,” Atsumu sighs and presses a cold pack tighter against his stomach. “It’s nice to have a reminder anyway.”
--
Atsumu avoids saying negative things, but sometimes he slips.
They’re watching a movie that’s honestly speaking terrible. They’re more into making fun of it than actually watching it. Kiyoomi’s eyebrows rise when a sex scene comes on. “Isn’t that the actor you hate?”
“Yeah,” Atsumu snorts. “Fucking hell, how does he manage to make his way into every movie I watch? A sex scene no less.”
Kiyoomi elbows him lightly. “You’re just jealous of the woman. Bet you wish you were in her place.”
Atsumu cackles and slaps Kiyoomi’s knee. “I’d rather die!”
Kiyoomi winces immediately and looks at Atsumu who’s frozen in place. He pushes back Atsumu’s hair and rubs a thumb over his forehead. “It’s okay, it was just a joke, you weren’t serious-“
Atsumu whimpers and looks distraught. “But what if they don’t realize? They’ll think I’m serious and I’m going to die.”
Kiyoomi shakes his head firmly and holds Atsumu’s face between his palms. “No. Listen to me, everyone says things like that and nothing has happened to them. You’ve said that before and you’re still here. Alive. You’re not going to die.”
Atsumu lifts trembling hands to hold over Kiyoomi’s. “I’m going to die in my sleep.”
“No,” Kiyoomi breathes out helplessly. He doesn’t know how to convince Atsumu his words have no effect on reality. “You won’t. I’ll be there the whole night, I’ll protect you. When have I ever let you get hurt?”
He bends down to try and catch Atsumu’s eye. “Hey. Look at me. Do you want me to say it too so we can be in it together? You won’t have to deal with it alone.”
Atsumu lifts his gaze hesitantly. He never believes other people can get hurt over what they say, only himself, but he still looks uncomfortable with the idea. “No, it just… would probably make me feel worse.”
“Okay,” Kiyoomi nods and brushes a thumb over Atsumu’s cheekbone. “I promise to you the universe doesn’t think you or I want to die. It won’t kill us.”
“I know that,” Atsumu whispers. “I know it’s irrational and stupid. I can’t help it.”
“It’s not stupid,” Kiyoomi denies immediately. “Is being scared of spiders irrational? Yes, but it’s not stupid or invalid. Don’t feel bad about it, okay? Your brain is the way it is and you can’t do anything about it.”
Atsumu nods and pulls Kiyoomi’s hands to his neck. “Yeah. I won’t die.”
“You won’t die,” Kiyoomi assures and pulls him closer. “You’ll live a long and happy life if I have anything to say in the matter.”
Atsumu smiles, a tiny but genuine thing. “They’re still having sex.”
Kiyoomi glances at the screen and grimaces in disgust. “Oh, gross. How long are they going to do it?”
Atsumu laughs and collapses against Kiyoomi’s chest. They settle back again and watch the weirdly long sex scene in silence, Atsumu’s fist clutching Kiyoomi’s shirt tightly. After a while he whispers against his neck: “I won’t die?”
Kiyoomi hums and cards his fingers through blonde locks. “You won’t die. I promise.”
--
Atsumu doesn’t usually have problems handling knives. Most of the time he’s okay unloading the dishwasher or chopping onions. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out, like today.
They’re making dinner and Atsumu’s in charge of cutting up the vegetables. Kiyoomi hands him a cutting board and a tomato. “Cut it in cubes.”
“Yes sir,” Atsumu says cheerfully and grabs a knife. Kiyoomi busies himself measuring the amount of spaghetti. Atsumu makes a wounded little noise behind him and Kiyoomi turns around, fully expecting him to have a little cut on his finger.
Instead he’s greeted with Atsumu squeezing his eyes shut, knife abandoned on the cutting board. He’s clutching his wrists, quickly switching to hold his hands over his eyes, moving to hide his temples and then back to his wrists again. He’s getting worked up, Kiyoomi can tell. His breathing is quick and he looks like he’s about to cry.
Kiyoomi drops his measuring cup and rushes over to his husband. He helps him stand up and directs them away from the kitchen. “Hey, baby, it’s okay. We’re away from the knife, it can’t hurt you.”
Atsumu gasps and tears slip down his cheeks. “Oh god, I can’t get it out of my head. Shit, shit-“
He cries out and his hands scramble to cover his eyes. Kiyoomi gets them to their bedroom and he prompts Atsumu to get into bed. “Okay. Okay, don’t try to fight against it. The more you try to not see the images, the longer they’ll stay. Just let it happen and we’ll try to get them out some other way, okay?”
Atsumu nods and cries quietly while Kiyoomi lifts the blanket over their heads. They’re shrouded in darkness and Kiyoomi gathers Atsumu in his arms, hoping to offer him some comfort. “Okay, I’m going put on a video from YouTube, is that okay?”
“Yeah,” Atsumu whispers wetly and hits his head softly against Kiyoomi’s shoulder multiple times. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Kiyoomi hums the first song that comes to his mind while he searches for a random music video on his phone. The best thing to do when Atsumu gets intrusive images in his head is to distract him before he gets a panic attack. “Okay, let’s watch this one.”
He increases the volume and angles his phone so Atsumu can see. Music fills their little blanket bubble and the different colors from the screen get reflected on Atsumu’s face. Kiyoomi keeps petting his hair calmly, hopes it helps. He always feels helpless when it comes to things like this, doesn’t feel like he’s really helping.
Atsumu keeps letting out random whimpers, jerking randomly to dispel the images in his brain, but he seems distracted by the colorful, busy video. Kiyoomi lets out a relieved breath when his breathing steadies and he seems to calm down.
He switches to another video when the first ends, lets Atsumu watch as many as he wants until he feels calm enough to stop. It takes two more before Atsumu turns in Kiyoomi’s arms and pushes the blanket off them. “I’m fine,” he explains quietly.
Kiyoomi nods and pecks his cheek. “I’m glad. Are you okay to be alone if I finish dinner?”
Atsumu nods and wipes the stray tears from his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t feel like getting near kn-“
He winces. “Those things. I’ll stay here to read or something.”
“Okay,” Kiyoomi smiles at him and stands up. He used to be scared to leave Atsumu so quickly, but years have taught him Atsumu knows himself and if he says he’s alright, Kiyoomi believes him. “Are forks and the tiny versions of the thing okay?”
Even using the word knife could trigger Atsumu again and while it feels ridiculous to skirt around it, Kiyoomi doesn’t want to make Atsumu feel worse.
Atsumu thinks for a moment, grimacing and pressing a hand against his wrist. “No. I’ll eat later.”
It’s better than nothing. Kiyoomi nods. “Okay. Take your time. I’ll come after I’m done, yeah?”
“Yeah. Love you,” Atsumu tells him.
“I love you too,” Kiyoomi smiles softly and closes the door behind him. Atsumu may have to deal with things Kiyoomi will never experience, but that’s okay. It doesn’t make him weak or unlovable. He’ll be okay and Kiyoomi will be there to make sure of it for as long as it takes.