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Kiyoomi knows his spikes are off. It’s an off day. A melancholic aura floats in the air. He hopes that no one has noticed. But with a setter as observant as Miya Atsumu, it’s foolish to hope so.
“Are you okay Omi?” Atsumu approaches Kiyoomi after their teammates had left the locker room.
“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” Kiyoomi keeps his usual stoic expression. He is asking himself the same question just as much as he’s asking Miya. Why is he feeling like this? He has no reason to. And yet he feels… sad.
“I’m fine, Miya,” Kiyoomi pulls up his mask and slings his gym bag over his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Even after Kiyoomi gets home and had a nice long warm shower, drank his favorite tea, and watched his favorite episode of his favorite show, the ache in his chest persists.
Kiyoomi hugs his couch cushion. Was the physical touch that he starved so bad that it is actually hurting him? He tries to think back over his childhood, all the times he felt the warmth of a loving parent. But he couldn’t remember. He does remember in his teen years he’d asked his mother why she never hugged him and she simply said well you never ask for any. Why should Kiyoomi have had to ask his mother for physical affection? Isn’t that her job as a mother to provide that security to him? On the off chance she would decide to embrace him, it was so cold it was like hugging an icicle. No warmth spread through his body. His body felt no relief. And she would love to blame Kiyoomi for the lack of affection by saying she loved to hug and kiss him when he was a baby but when he was older he never came to her. And his father, well they had a strained relationship, to begin with, Kiyoomi wasn’t looking for anything there.
Through this musing, he must have decided something because before he knows it he grabs his jacket, grabs his keys, and is already a foot out the door.
He looks at the apartment number on the door and sighs. He lifts his arm to knocks, his movement filled with hesitance. He rubs the bridge of his nose and shifts on his feet nervously. The door swings open not a moment later, with a very cozy-looking Miya Atsumu in fuzzy socks, sweatpants, and a comfy tee, at the door.
“Omi! What brings you by?” Atsumu grins at him with a smile so bright, Kiyoomi is sure it would make him go blind if he looked too long.
“I- um… well I… I just was… um…” now that Kiyoomi is here he has no idea how to actually say what he wants to say. It was embarrassing honestly, how is he supposed to ask this.
Atsumu looks at him, not an ounce of annoyance detected on his face, “do you want to come in?” Kiyoomi nods and steps into his apartment without uttering a word. Atsumu jerks his head toward the living room and begins to walk there as a way of inviting Kiyoomi further into the house. They both sit on the couch, the tv still on and playing whatever Atsumu had been watching before he got there. “So what is it, Omi? I could tell something was off even during practice.”
Kiyoomi fidgets with his fingers in his lap, his eyes downcast not brave enough to meet Atsumu’s gaze. “Could you hold me like how you hold the others at practice… sometimes?” Kiyoomi’s voice rings barely above a whisper.
“You want a hug?” Kiyoomi opens his mouth to answers, his eyes flickering up to meet with Atsumu, they were genuine with no hint of teasing. Kiyoomi looks back down, feeling red dusting his cheeks.
Strong arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer. Kiyoomi melts into the touch. It is a little awkward since they both are sitting, their knees bumping the other’s, but it’s so warm. Kiyoomi wraps his arms around Atsumu’s waist and nuzzles his face into the crook of his neck, finally feeling the ache from his chest being lifted.
Kiyoomi isn’t sure when, how, or why, he had started crying but he feels the moisture of his tears against Atsumu’s skin. He feels Atsumu start to gently running his fingers through his hair, “Are you okay?” Kiyoomi shook his head with a yes squeezing his eyes tight, knowing his voice would betray him if he spoke.
He tightens his hold when he feels Atsumu start to pull away. He didn’t mean to, he didn’t have the intention of making Atsumu uncomfortable. But Atsumu relaxes against him, running a soothing hand over his back and petting his hair. Kiyoomi wants to stay like this forever, he feels like a dead battery that was finally being recharged. Kiyoomi wonders if he could stay like this forever? If he never lets go.
Kiyoomi eventually lets go of Atsumu and promptly stands up and bows, “uh thank you.” What exactly is he supposed to do now?
He was halfway out the door when he feels Atsumu tug at his sleeve, “come to me, whenever you need. Kiyoomi.”
And he does. He comes back every time he feels the coldness seep into his veins. And Atsumu welcomes him every time. Soon the short interactions in Atsumu’s apartment turn into more. They turn into movie nights every Thursday after practice. They turn into warm-up runs in the morning followed by coffee from their favorite cart. They turn into actually making an effort to go out for drinks with the team on Fridays, but always by Atsumu’s side with pinkies linked. They turn into trying a new and different restaurant every weekend. They turn into first kisses. They turn into late-night calls. They turn into stargazing, and Kiyoomi pointing out new constellations that Atsumu’s struggles to find. And they turn into a final “I do.”
Kiyoomi isn’t sure how he got so lucky. But he is so glad that did. Because Kiyoomi has never been cold ever since that night he showed up at Atsumu’s apartment. Always under the warmth of Atsumu. Like rays of light shining upon him. How the sun shines upon this earth.
Atsumu is Kiyoomi’s sun.