Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Atsumu first leaves him, Sakusa finds a crumpled-up list shoved into the crevices of his highschool jacket, print washed out and faded.

On the top, written in big, bold, scrawled text is “reasons to hate Miya Atsumu”.

In the back of his mind, Sakusa distantly remembers, the list he had to desperately written out on a scrap of notebook paper on the final night of their shared training camp. Komori had laughed at him, of course, as he watched Sakusa try to write away any of the lingering betrayals of his heart.

It was juvenile, really.

But even so, Sakusa opens the paper, eyes dragging along the desperate handwriting, and he begins to read.

Number one. He has disgusting piss colored hair. It looks like he bleached it, before proceeding to dip his head into a vat of highlighter ink.

Sakusa’s situated behind Atsumu, forced to take his position behind the flippant setter as Hinata serves the ball into the air, hitting it to the other side of the court with a resounding thwap. Naturally, the opposing team sends it flying perfectly into the air, an arc straight into Atsumu’s waiting position, ready to send the ball at Sakusa. It was a progression as natural as breathing, a sequence that Sakusa had done a million times over.

Run, jump.

And trust that Atsumu will always send the ball where it needed to be.

Because even if they hadn’t spoken for the past two months, despite being cooped up in the same tiny dorm, everything with Atsumu was as natural as life itself.

And it couldn’t be any other way.

“That’s one more point for the MSBY Black Jackals!” the announcer cheered, causing an eruption of resounding cheers to sound from one side of the stands, drowning out the groans of the other supporters. “And with that, the game comes to an end with another win for the MSBY Black Jackals.”

As Sakusa comes down from the high of the clean score, he turns around, half-heartedly accepting the gentle pats on the back he receives from his teammates.

But Atsumu wasn’t beside him anymore.

For the shortest moment, Sakusa turned around, expecting a fist bump or an entirely too forceful hug to his back, but he felt none. Even with the cheers of fans surrounding him and the howling of his other teammates as they celebrated their victory, Sakusa found himself surrounded by nothing but emptiness.

Because as he turned around, he saw Atsumu, standing next to a girl on the stands, all smiles and laughs as he lets her coddle him, her fingers brushing through his sweat mused hair. His eyes sparkled, glowing under the bright stadium lights. His hair was nothing like Sakusa remembered — it was platinum blond now, soft. It was a far cry from the damaged bleach hair he would rag on and on about in his list.

Sakusa wondered if Atsumu would’ve smiled that much if he had run his fingers through Atsumu’s hair like the girl was doing now. If Sakusa had dared to touch is sweat stained hair without the fear of discomfort, without having to worry about scrubbing his hands clean with steel wool and hand soap. If he could love and feel and touch.

But Sakusa supposed it didn’t matter.

And that fact carried with him, laid in his mind as he tore his gaze away.

Number two. He’s annoying, loud, and fucking insufferable. Get over him.

Sakusa wondered if mealtimes were always this quiet.

There was no doubt that people were talking. Sakusa could hear the buzz of alcohol around him as the Jackals cheered to their win, refilling their glasses over and over and over again. It felt different, even if the volume of their voices were the same. It wasn’t like it was before, when Atsumu’s heavy Kansai dialect would cut in in the middle of everyone’s sentences, the words coming from his mouth teased out by the alcohol running through him. It wasn’t the same, without Atsumu foolishly challenging every single Jackal to another round of a drinking game, even if he would lose every single time.

“Where’s Atsumu?” Hinata called out, looking around the table.

“Went out with his girlfriend, or something,” Meian replied, eagerly pouring another glass of vodka into his shot glass. “He’s basically a married man already. No mind, though, who wants to do shots with me?”

As some of the younger players scrabbled to challenge their captain, Hinata laughed. “You’re married, Meian. Shouldn’t you be the same as him?”

Meian shrugged, raising his glass to clink it. “Young love, I guess. You can tell Atsumu’s really in love with the girl, his eyes sparkle and everything. He barely joins in on team drinking session anymore, but that’s how it is. I’m sure it’ll be the same with everyone.”

As Sakusa takes his own shot, he ignores the sideward glance Hinata casts at him, eyes filled with concern.

“You’re drinking, Sakusa-kun?” Inuaki laughs. “You never drink during our celebrations.”

“It’s time to start, I suppose,” Sakusa grimaces, relishing in the way the alcohol burns his throat, incinerating the bitterness of his thoughts.

And oh, what he would give up for one of the teasing voices around him to be Atsumu’s.

Because now, no matter how loudly they cheered and how much Hinata tried to include him in conversations, nothing would ever replace the cheerful, careless lilt of Miya Atsumu’s voice. It was arrogant, flippant, and tinted with the most annoying tone Sakusa had ever had the joy of encountering. The voice that Sakusa would have given anything to shut up throughout his entire highschool life.

But now, Sakusa couldn’t imagine ever parting with it.

And he misses him.

Number three. Atsumu’s sets never hit the mark during training camps. It doesn’t match my hand, and when I mess up, he blames me.

Just get over him already.

In their new season, their coach tries out a new setter.

They bench Atsumu for a game. It wasn’t a particularly important one, just a preliminary game they had to get through to fully qualify for the Division One league. It was a game the Jackals had never lost, not ever since their founding. They had always qualified, always scored well, always—

“And it seems like Sakusa missed the receive,” an announcer called out, disappointed noises coming from fans as the other team’s points increase by one. “Usually, Sakusa is an amazing receiver, but maybe the team’s new formation is throwing him off his game. You see, Sakusa is usually paired with Atsumu Miya, a powerful duo that carried the team—”

Sakusa tunes out the announcer’s voice, clenching his teeth as he sharpened his eyes, focusing on the game in front of him.

As the ball is served, Sakusa runs into position. He begins his jump, reaching into the air, waiting — trusting — that the ball would reach him. It was what he and Atsumu always did. Always at their positions, always perfectly in tune. They never needed to look at each other, never during any of their combos, because they just knew. Knew that the ball would be where it needed to be, and that they would always score.

But as Sakusa hit, the only thing he felt was air.

And even before he heard the thudding of the ball on the ground, he knew.

“One more point lost by Sakusa yet again! Maybe because this is the first match the Jackals have had with their new setter, but the other spikers seem to be doing just fine. Is this an adjustment that only Sakusa needs to make, considering that he’s almost always been paired with Atsumu?”

“Megumi! We’re subbing you out for now,” their coach called out, motioning to the setter. “We’re trying Atsumu for this set.”

As Atsumu took his spot, Sakusa relaxed, feeling the tension in his muscles disappear.

Run, jump, spike. Trust.

And they manage to do just that.

“Now with Atsumu paired with Sakusa, the game seems to be flowing much more smoothly, but we can never tell if the Jackals can still turn the game around. Will this be their first loss in the prelims in twenty years, or will the ultimate duo be able to turn the game around?”

Sakusa watches as Atsumu runs up underneath the ball, tossing it up in the air like he always did. It was a perfect arc, flying straight at Sakusa, neatly connecting with his palm.

Perfect, perfect, perfect. It was always perfect.

“Nice kill, Sakusa,” Atsumu smiles.

Sakusa tries not to grimace as he clenches out a smile. “Nice toss.”

Because how could Atsumu be anything other than completely perfect?

The next time they’re paired together for a match, Sakusa can barely look him in the eye.

”Don’t pay any mind to him,” is what they all said. ”Out of sight, out of mind, you’ll forget about him soon.”

Sakusa squatted at his position in the court, steeling himself to receive the ball that was ricocheting towards him. Cleanly, he dipped low, letting the ball bump against the side of his outstretched hands. The ball flew up in a perfect arc, directly at Atsumu’s waiting position. Without hesitation, Atsumu jumped, tossing the ball gracefully towards their outside hitters. The ball slammed into the hands of the waiting libero, before unceremoniously bouncing off, earning a cheer from the Jackals’ stand.

“As always, Miya is on top of his game,” the announcer cheered. “But it’s been 21 points into the game with the Jackals lagging behind, and we’ve yet to see Sakusa and Miya’s dangerous combo. Have the Jackals been working on a different combination that separates the two, or will we see it make a comeback?”

Sakusa grimaced.

Anything but the combo again.

“And here we’re beginning with a serve from Miya, who’s known for his powerful playstyle,” the announcer continued. “We’ll have to wait to see if the Jackals can turn this game around!”

“Try out the combination with Atsumu, Sakusa,” Meian spoke from beside Sakusa, giving him a pointed look. “Whatever happened in your personal lives should not be cause for us losing a game so early in the season. If the chance comes, do it in this set, preferably now.”

“And Miya serves the ball, which is received cleanly by EJP Raijin!”

Sakusa steeled himself, approaching his position for the run-up. Atsumu is settled perfectly where he’s meant to be, hands prepared to make a toss, the toss that only the two of them had ever pulled off perfectly during a match together.

The ball, swiftly approaching, falls into Atsumu’s outstretched hands.

“Omi-kun!”

Sakusa didn’t spare a glance at the setter, making his jump without watching the ball leave Atsumu’s outstretched fingertips. He pulled himself away, as far as he possibly could from the thought of Miya Atsumu, forcing himself to black the setter from his vision.

And with a sharp inhale, he hit.

Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of—

“A beautiful combo made by Sakusa and Miya, but unfortunately the combo failed to hit its mark. It’s a surprising turn of events, considering that the duo’s combo has never failed in the history of its usage, but we can thank EJP Raijin for showing that any combo, no matter how powerful, can be overturned!”

“Failed?” Meian murmured, Sakusa barely catching his words.

Sakusa clenched his teeth, settling back into position as he received a dump from the opposing setter, the ball flying into Hinata outstretched hand for a spike.

“Though good effort has been made by the Jackals this season, it appears that EJP Raijin is much closer to victory than we thought,” the announcer groaned, watching as the ball flew out, Hinata wincing at the loss of a point. “EJP Raijin is now at 24 points, compared to the Jackals’ 21 points. Though unlikely, we will have to observe to see if the Jackals will be capable of overturning this unlikely turn of events.”

“Keep calm, everyone!” Meian called out, taking his position. “Keep your focus.”

Sakusa nodded, tearing his eyes away from the scoreboard to focus on the court.

“And we begin!” the announcer said, in tandem with the starting whistle. “If the Jackals fail to return this serve, EJP Raijin will be taking home a win against one of the most prominent Division One teams in Japan — it will be a history making moment for them!”

Sakusa watched as the ball flew into the air, dangerously quick, hurtling towards his side. Quickly, he stepped towards the side, reaching out to receive the ball, steeling himself for the impact—

Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight—

But before the ball could reach him, an opposing force slammed into him, crumpling his stance.

And a whistle.

“What are you doing?” Atsumu growled, picking himself up with a scowl. “That was clearly my ball. Why didn’t you check where you were going?”

“Well I’m sorry that you didn’t make it clear enough that you were going for the ball,” Sakusa retorted.

“Anyone with eyes could see that I was already making my way to it early so I could receive it,” Atsumu sniped, words edged with malice. “That was the set point already, EJP Raijin won against us, for the first time in years. We don’t have an opportunity to make it to the finals anymore because you neglected to look.”

“Doesn’t the same go for you?” Sakusa spat back. “You didn’t look either. If you did, you could have stopped halfway and avoided barreling into me.”

“I did,” Atsumu snapped. “I noticed you were coming, I even called out that it was my ball to get you to stop running and you still didn’t stop. You’re telling me that you can’t hear on top of being blind?”

“Are you trying to pick a fight?” Sakusa griped, approaching Atsumu, teeth grinding.

“Sakusa, Atsumu, stop.”

Sakusa looked back, halting as Meian’s gaze bore into him, warning edged into his hard glare. Atsumu had the gall to barely look apologetic.

“You can continue whatever fight you want to have after we thank EJP Raijin for the game and the debrief. Don’t bring your personal matters into work.”

Begrudgingly, Sakusa stalked away from Atsumu, falling in line with his teammates to bow towards the victorious team, hands clenched at his side as the cheers from all around him thudded against his ears, a white noise that consistently filled him.

By the time the team had returned to their waiting room, prickly agitation and testiness filling the air, Sakusa was barely listening. The words of their coach barely sounded in his ears, nothing processing. He barely caught the words “played well” and “fought hard”, despise settling in him. He’d heard those words far too many times — he would puke if he ever had to hear them again after the loss of a match.

“That is all for the debrief,” their coach surmised. “We won’t be able to play the finals, but we still need to play well enough to secure a place as high as possible on the leaderboard. The Jackals’ reputation in the Division One league depends on this. With that, everyone is dismissed — I trust that Meian will see everyone to the prepared accommodation with the bus waiting outside.”

Slowly, the Jackals begin to stand, murmuring thank yous to their coach as they filtered out of the room, quietly making their way to the locker room.

Before Sakusa could so much as change his shirt, Atsumu comes striding up to him, hard glare set onto his features.

“Don’t think you’ve gotten off the hook yet, Sakusa.”

The absence of a nickname stings him.

“Not now, Atsumu,” Meian cut in, but Atsumu was far too gone.

“You’re just going to let him frolick around happily after he basically cost us that entire match?” Atsumu spat, eyes narrowed. “His spike was off to the point that our guaranteed combo was received by the libero from EJP, and he couldn’t even open his ears enough to listen during the final point. If he’d so much as tried to play properly today, we would have won that match, and we would have had a chance to make it to the finals.”

“We all made mistakes today—” Meian tried, by Atsumu flared.

“Don’t try to talk in favor of Sakusa, Meian,” Atsumu sniped, rounding on Sakusa. “He hasn’t even looked at me or tried to speak to me unless I was the one who rounded him up and tried to get him to communicate. He doesn’t even look me or the ball when I’m trying to set for our combo; how can you even defend him?”

“Drop it, Miya,” Meian snapped. “It’s not like you’ve never made a single mistake in your life.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life,” Atsumu rebuked, “but not one that’s costed an entire team, a very well-known and powerful team at that, to lose their chance at the finals.”

The rest of the Jackals stared that the two, stoic as they glanced between Atsumu and Sakusa, uneasiness filling the air.

“if you have an issue with my performance today, don’t take it out on Meian,” Sakusa replied, voice on edge.

“So you’ve finally decided to speak?” Atsumu growled. “Fine, let’s talk; I’ll stop yelling at Meian for defending your mistakes. So, any responses to anything I’ve said so far, or have you not been listening?”

“Take this out of the locker room, both of you,” Meian spoke, tone stone cold. “If it’s a personal issue you have with each other, I want it out of this locker room.”

“Fine, sure!” Atsumu laughed, tone humorless as he stalked out of the locker room.

Meian shot Sakusa a glance, concern written over his features as Sakusa slowly dropped his belongings, following Atsuu to the hallway, slipping into a room that Atsumu had opened with a bang.

“I want answers.”

Sakusa closed his eyes, using all his willpower to stare at Atsumu straight in the eyes. “I don’t have answers to any of your questions.”

“Bullshit,” Atsumu snapped, fists clenching dangerously. “You aren’t even looking at me when I set to make sure thaty ou’re synced properly with my tosses. Our combo failed for the first time since we’ve done it because you refuse to look at me to match up the timing of my toss and your jump. I’m not the one being sloppy.”

“Miya—”

“I want answers.”

Atsumu’s tone was non-negotiable, hardness punctuating every part of his sentence.

“Still none?” Atsumu scoffed. “You don’t even have a response as to why you won’t interact with me at all throughout the course of the match?”

“Yeah, I have none,” Sakusa bit out, prickling discomfort settling over him as the lie slipped from his lips. “So, stop harassing me about it.”

“Liar.”

Atsumu’s tone was malicious.

“I deserve to know the reason why, because today I was the one fucked over by you,” Atsumu spat. “Not that it’s anything new.”

“Excuse me?” Sakusa bit out, prickling pain settling into him.

“You heard me the first time. You fucked me over today, and nothing changes the fact that it isn’t the first time you’ve done that.”

Sakusa grit his teeth. “Then I’m sorry for that.”

“’Sorry’ doesn’t provide me with a reason why you won’t even look at me,” Atsumu snapped. “Do you hate me? Despise me? Do you tell all your friends that I was the one who broke your heart and made you incapable of playing volleyball properly ever again? I want a fucking answer—”

And Sakusa snapped.

“I haven’t gotten over you, okay?” Sakusa reeled, shame settling in him as the words left his lips before he could even process them. “Are you happy that I have an explanation? The game is lost, you patronizing me into giving you a reason why won’t bring us the win.”

Sakusa waited, breath stalled as he watched Atsumu’s features morph, coldness settling into them.

“Just because you haven’t gotten over me, doesn’t mean that I haven’t,” Atsumu ended, words icy. “It doesn’t give you an excuse to make your feelings my problem. I’ve gotten over you, Sakusa. Whatever happened between us was months ago — I suggest that you take that to heart.”

Without another word, Atsumu clicks the door behind him as he leaves.

And silently, Sakusa collapses, and shatters into a thousand pieces.

When Atsumu gets scouted for the national team, his fortunes come with a beautiful girl at his side.

Sakusa is on the opposite end of the table as Atsumu walks into the celebration, a chorus of cheers coming from the other Jackals as he enters the room with his girlfriend by his side, congratulations on their relationship and Atsumu’s recruitment rising in the air. Sakusa glances at them for a moment, letting out a weak shout of congratulations as he watches the two, half-heartedly joining the chorus of the others.

Meian is already passing out bottles of alcohol around, raising it in the air as Atsumu settles into his seat, arm wrapped around his all too pretty girlfriend, adoration shining in his eyes. His gaze showed no signs of pain, no signs of exhaustion. They simply shone, gentleness softening his gaze as he gently pecked her on the forehead.

Sakusa tore his eyes away, ignoring the gripping of his heart.

“The night has just started, but let’s begin with a toast to Atsumu,” Meian announced, holding his own glass of sake up in the air. “Here’s to Atsumu for making it to the Japanese national men’s volleyball team!”

Sakusa raised his glass, shutting his eyes in feign happiness as he clinked his glass against the others’. As he opened his eyes, swallowing the shot of sake, discomfort settles in him, clenching every part of him.

“Since we already cheered,” Atsumu began, nudging his girlfriend closer towards the team, “I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend.”

Sakusa didn’t miss the worried glances the team threw at him for the briefest of moments.

“My name is Ayaka,” she smiled, voice sugar sweet and gentle. “It’s nice to meet everyone.”

Variations of ‘welcome’ rose from the team, cheering and patting Atsumu on the shoulder as the older team members passed around drinks again, graciously filling cups to the limit.

“How did you end up meeting?” Adriah asked, tipping yet another shot down his throat. “It’s a wonder that you manage to do anything other than volleyball in your day.”

Sakusa filters out Ayaka’s words, staring blankly as he watched her talk. Innocent, gentle, unburdened. She was everything that someone would want. Bright, cheerful, no pain or emotions or anything behind the soft smile she flashed at everyone around her.

She probably didn’t push people away, Sakusa thought bitterly.

She probably didn’t cry at the slightest failure, or the loss of a competition. She probably didn’t overwork herself to the point of no return. Sakusa could practically see her, returning all of Atsumu’s affections, combing her fingers through his hair in the way Sakusa never got to. She probably didn’t yell at Atsumu, or scream at him, or burden him or pain Atsumu with anything Sakusa had ever did.

She probably was perfect for him.

“Sakusa?” Hinata’s voice called out, the spiker patting his shoulder gently. “Sakusa!”

Sakusa snapped out of his thoughts, turning around to face Hinata.

“I apologize, I spaced out,” Sakusa muttered. “Did something happen?”

“Ayaka was talking to you,” Hinata motioned, pointing to her smiling figure.

Sakusa turned, nodding amiably towards her, movements stiff. He could feel the burning of his skin as he watched Atsumu trail his arm around her waist, gently pulling her onto his lap, gently embracing her.

“I just wanted to say hi,” she explained, eyes friendly. “Atsumu tells me a lot about you. He says that he likes setting to you the most because you’re always reliable. Apparently, you guys almost always score a point if you’re paired together, right?”

Bull shit.

“Yeah,” Sakusa nodded, forcing a passive look onto his face. “We do good combos on the court.”

Before Ayaka could throw another conversation at him, Adriah stood up from where he sat, cheeks slightly flushed with alcohol.

“Before we all leave, we should do some drinking games!” he announced, gripping onto the neck of the alcohol bottle tightly, using it like a microphone. “Anyone up for dare or drink?”

“Isn’t it truth or drink?” Hinata mumbled, but didn’t protest any louder.

“Whatever it is, let’s play it,” Adriah stumbled, falling back onto his seat. “Atsumu, why don’t you go first? I’m sure almost everyone has good dare ideas for you.”

Chorus of teasing rose from the Jackals, save for Sakusa.

“Fine, fine!” Atsumu laughed, eyes sparkling.

Even his laugh sounds pretty.

“I have a dare,” Adriah continued, ignoring the protests of the younger team members who were intent on discussing the dare first. “Passionately make out with Ayaka.”

Sakusa clenched his fists under the table, stiffening as the others jeered Atsumu into taking the dare.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit too much for a dare?” Atsumu whined, reaching to take a drink. Before he could even take a sip, the surrounding team members stole his glass, complaining about him being ‘no fun’.

“Do it, Atsumu! Do it!”

With a questioning glance at Ayaka, as if checking for consent, Atsumu shrugged, pushing their lips together. Immediately, the Jackals roared, laughing and cheering engulfing the room, a light blush dusting itself across Atsumu’s cheeks, as everyone cheered him on.

Sakusa watched silently as Atsumu snaked his arms completely around Ayaka’s waist, her hands carded in his hair, her lean figure seated on Atsumu’s lap. He grit his teeth, not speaking as he simply watched them, red angry sparks beginning to heat in him, teeth gritted as he continued to watch them, distaste spreading in him as he closed his fists tighter, heart clenching.

Slowly, Sakusa downed another shot, tearing his eyes away from their heated exchange, mentally blocking out the cheers and wolf whistles from the group.

When they finally parted, Atsumu’s lips were red, shining under the low light of the room, breathing heavily as everyone around them laughed.

And for a moment, Sakusa wished it was him who had got Atsumu to that state.

“I’m going to the toilet,” Sakusa murmured, drowned out by the rowdiness of the crowd as he pushed his chair back, bitter jealousy rising in his throat, biting through his alcohol laden thoughts, filling his mouth with foulness.

Sakusa stumbled into the bathroom, heaving as he crashed onto the ground, hacking sounds filling the silent room as vomit filled the toilet, throat raw and pained as he continued to hack, chest squeezing, eyes shut. All he could hear was the cheers outside, mind replaying Ayaka on Atsumu’s lap, over and over and over again. As the scene flashed through him again, Sakusa heaved once more, bile leaving him as bitterness stained his mouth.

Sakusa leaned against the toilet, biting the inside of his cheek as his body threatened to lose itself again, hammering pain filling his chest.

“Sakusa? Are you alright?”

Sakusa turned around, watching a familiar figure enter the bathroom through bleary eyes. Hinata sat beside him, passing him a damp towel, gently directing Sakusa to clean his face.

“Are they still outside?” Sakusa murmured, gripping the edge of the toilet bowl as the all too familiar taste of alcohol and vomit rose in his throat.

“Yeah,” Hinata murmured. “Atsumu and Ayaka have gone for another round of dares.”

Sakusa heaved again, retching as his body convulsed over the toilet, bitterness consuming him. Hinata sat beside him, unflinching as he gently placed a hand on Sakusa’s shoulder, grounding him through the bitter waves.

“Let it all out,” Hinata murmured, voice gentle. “I know what it’s like. It’s alright, Sakusa.”

And with a pained gasp, Sakusa continued.

Sakusa stood outside of the doorway to Atsumu’s house, housewarming party still going loudly as he slipped his feet into his shoes, clenching his teeth as he tried to ignore the burning sensation coming over him at the feeling of Atsumu’s eyes on him, watching his every move intently.

“Thanks for coming,” Atsumu offered, gently placing one of his hands on Sakusa’s shoulder.

At the feeling, Sakusa tensed.

If he noticed it, Atsumu said nothing, arms bringing Sakusa into a hug.

It was warm, familiar.

“Of course,” Sakusa murmured, lips pressed tight as he blinked the glassiness of his eyes away, and tore himself from Atsumu.

And as Sakusa walked out of the door, coat hanging off of his shoulder, his heart gripped, and a voice called out.

“Hey, Omi?”

Sakusa turned around, and Atsumu smiled.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

And Sakusa smiled.

He smiled, turned around with a gentle, masked nod, and pretended that everything was fine.

He pretended that everything was fine as he walked slowly through the dying streets of Osaka, lights in the city already beginning to dim as the sky deepened into twilight. He pretended that everything was fine as the rain began to slowly splatter across the side walk, sending splashes of water up into the air, catching Sakusa around the ankles. He pretended, pretended, and fucking pretended.

“Omi-kun, hold up!”

Sakusa whipped around, body all too conditioned to the voice that called out to him, stance steeled, thankful that the rain masked the mistiness of his gaze.

“It’s raining,” Atsumu mumbled unhelpfully, running up to him with an outstretched umbrella in hand. “You’ll get a cold.”

Before Sakusa could manage a sliver of gratitude, Atsumu pushed the umbrella into his hands, warm fingers brushing against his own ice cold ones.

And Sakusa broke.

“Keep the umbrella, Omi,” Atsumu smiled, radiating as he ran his fingers through his own messed up hair, messily fluffing it up, even if the rain prevented him from rightening it in any way. Atsumu, raw, messy and beautiful in every way he possibly could be, grinning a wide smile at him.

Content, happy.

As Atsumu began his jog back, Sakusa’s gaze dragged along with him, capturing his quiet motions, the gait of his run, the slicked back hair, everything.

And with a clench of quiet resignment, Sakusa gripped his umbrella tight, letting his tears fall and become one with the pouring rain.