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Sakusa did not want a relationship. Commitment always got messy, and he simply did not have the time.
He was a university student studying microbiology; if he wasn’t studying, the last thing he wanted to spend his free time doing was trying to entertain someone else. All he wanted to do was sit on the couch and mindlessly scroll and watch TV in the little free time he got. Maybe he’d give Motoya a call if he was feeling extra ambitious. But, the thought of having to carve time into his day —every day— to talk to someone or meet with them just for the sake of having “love” and “affection” was not something that appealed to him.
That’s not to say the loneliness didn’t sometimes creep in. It did. Especially late at night, when he was alone in bed, thinking about how Motoya couldn’t come over to watch that new movie because he was with his boyfriend, Suna. Or when he’s home alone in the middle of the day, having finished all his assignments, wishing someone was there to sit in companionable silence with.
The problem was that these feelings of loneliness— the desire to be with someone in a way that couldn’t be satisfied by his cousin— were not consistent. Sakusa would describe his yearning as a wave. There were days where he wanted and yearned so badly that his chest ached, and there were others where he felt as if he could live a long, happy, and successful life having never felt the romantic affection of another human being.
He’d thought of seeking out a “friends with benefits” type of arrangement, as his cousin has affectionately told him “Kiyo, you need a good fuck, no strings attached.”
Don’t get him wrong. Sakusa had considered it: seeking out a stranger for a night of physical companionship, never having to see them again. However, the problem lay within the fact that Sakusa Kiyoomi was a virgin. Yes, a 21 year old virgin. He had no shame in this. In fact, he knew that other people were in the same boat, and the fact that the people around him were mindlessly fucking one another did not mean that everyone in the world was. However, despite the fact that virginity is a social construct that he really couldn’t care less about, Sakusa Kiyoomi did not trust a stranger to be putting themselves in him. Nor did he trust a stranger to put himself into. And therein lay the problem. Sakusa wanted companionship without the commitment, yet wanted the sex with the trust.
Enter Sakusa Kiyoomi’s high school rival turned best friend: Miya Atsumu.
They met at a volleyball training camp, and to say they hit it off would be the overstatement of the century.
They hated each other.
Atsumu was too loud, and Sakusa was too picky.
Sakusa wanted nothing more than to wipe that arrogant smirk off of the piss-blond’s head with a spike to the face; and Atsumu couldn’t wait to get the chance to invade “Omi-Omi”’s personal space.
Their rivalry continued for years, the miles separating Hyogo and Tokyo closed with texts declaring superiority and wagers about who could get the most service aces in a match.
Over time, these texts turned from near declarations of war, to shared memes and complaints about family members.
Miya: can you be Samu would do something like that?
Miya: omi you better be on my side
Miya: there is no bigger sibling betrayal than stealing one’s food
Omi-omi: yes, Miya, I’m on your side. I did grow up with an older sister and brother
Miya: ya but they were so much older
Miya: samu and I shared a womb. It’s like....super bad when he does it
Kiyoomi can’t help but roll his eyes at the eloquence, or lack thereof, of his best friend, but he graciously let him know that he is on his side and understood.
They were sitting on the couch in Kiyoomi’s single bedroom apartment on campus, eating the onigiri Atsumu brought (lovingly made by his younger brother (re: onigiri which he forced his twin to make for him and Sakusa)). Sakusa could not be bothered to try to find someone to room with who would be okay with his strict cleaning schedule, and Atsumu was already living with his Osamu, so a one bed, one bath made the most sense.
They were sitting in silence when it occurred to him. Sakusa looked over at his friend. Atsumu's hair was no longer the color of dehydrated urine after Sakusa told him about the miracles of toner and purple shampoo. He had a good side profile: sharp jaw, high cheekbones, an only slightly crooked nose (which was a feat considering their love of volleyball).
"Miya," he started, a question hanging heavily in the one word.
Atsumu hmm'ed in acknowledgment, mouth slowly chewing the rice and tuna in his mouth, eyes glued to the TV.
"Friends can make out, right?" Atsumu choked on his food and he whipped his gaze over to his best friend, eyes wide in shock. Of all the things he expected to hear from Sakusa Kiyoomi's mouth, that was the least expected.
"Um, totally. I mean—no—yes? I mean, I once made out with Bo at a party. We were both drunk and had a good laugh about it, but, yeah. I guess we-- they can."
Sakusa nodded, taking a thoughtful nibble from the umeboshi filled rice ball he was holding.
"Do you...want to?" He asked with such a blasé tone that Atsumu had a hard time believing Omi was talking about anything other than the weather.
Atsumu didn't know if his eyes could get any bigger. Where was this coming from? Before he could respond, Omi interjected, "I mean, it could be nice. You don't do relationships and neither do I-- although for completely different reasons,” he added, as if to clarify that he did in fact know that Atsumu did not want a relationship for the simple fact that he was what Omi would consider a man-whore “--but that doesn't mean we don't both yearn sometimes. I trust you, you trust me. It's a win-win." He said all this with so much confidence, Atsumu couldn't help but wonder how much thought his best friend put into this.
Spoiler alert: Omi had put zero thought into this and was freaking out on the couch. Who the fuck let me say that? He thought to himself.
He looked over at Atsumu again, who seemed to have recovered from his initial shock. “Yer logic is impeccable, Omi. It couldn’t hurt to, I ‘spose,” he said with a shrug.
With that, Sakusa put his onigiri down on the coffee table in front of him, Atsumu following suit. He tucked his knees beneath himself, turning toward Atsumu, taking a moment to appreciate his honey-colored, heavy-lidded eyes. His hands came to cup Atsumu’s cheeks, causing the blond’s eyes to flutter closed.
“Tell me if I should stop,” Kiyoomi whispered as his lips barely ghosted over Atsumu’s. Atsumu gave an almost imperceptible nod as Kiyoomi brought his lips to press against his friend’s. Their lips met softly at first, and small adjustments were made to accommodate noses, lips sliding easily against one another. Atsumu’s hands snaked around Kiyoomi’s waist, as Sakusa’s trailed from Atsumu’s face to tangle into the blond’s hair, their breath becoming one.
Oh. Fuck.