Chapter Text
Atsumu sat in a doctors office, anxiously tapping at the leather seat beneath him as he awaited results.
This had become something rather routine in his life.
Giving blood samples, laying in a tube for hours, sitting in all too familiar waiting rooms. Today, he was waiting for the results of his second CT scan. He wasn’t sure why he kept coming back, the answer was always the same, Nothing came up. We’d like to run some more tests.
He looked up as the door opened, a woman in her late forties walking in and sitting on a small stool as she looked at a clipboard. “Everything looks normal.” She stated, and for some reason, Atsumu still felt a tinge of disappointment. He should be used to it by now. “I’ve spoken to your childhood physician and he said he’d like to get you in to see a psychologist. He thinks your pain could be the result of unresolved trauma.”
Her gentle expression and soft voice did nothing to ease the panic filling Atsumu’s body. Unresolved trauma? What the hell did that mean? He blinked at her before he let out a heavy sigh, “M’ life’s been pretty peachy if you exclude the constant pain ‘m in.” He looked at her and pulled his lips into a tight line. “So I’m ‘fraid I’ll have ta pass on that one. Not flushin’ more money down the toilet.” He said as he picked up his sweatshirt and slung it over his arm, the zipper rattling quietly. “Thanks, doc.”
“I understand how frustrating this all is.” She spoke as he stood, clearly attempting to keep him for another moment. “There is one last thing. It’s a bit experimental but well within the realm of possibility.”
Atsumu raised an eyebrow. “Well what’re ya waitin’ for? Tell me.”
She sighed softly, her eyes falling down to the wedding ring on her finger. It was by no means extravagant, a simple gold band with a tiny emerald in the center that complimented her dark skin nicely. “Do you know what your soulmate bond is?”
He blinked a few times and reached for the door again, a small chuckle leaving his mouth. “Don’t got one.”
“Miya,” She reached out and held the door shut. “I promise you, I’m going somewhere with this.”
Atsumu groaned and sank back into his seat, only halfway listening to the junk about to leave her mouth. What the hell did soulmates have to do with him being in pain all day every day?
“Do you know what your twin’s is?”
“Music.” He nodded, “They can hear each other sing. Rather annoyin’ if ya ask me, I gotta wake up to them hummin’ to each other every mornin’.” Atsumu smiled as he thought back to early morning brawls, Atsumu punching him for waking him up before the alarm.
“Typically twins have the same bond.” She hummed, leaning back in her seat although there was no backing to catch her. “But, there are some cases where that’s not true, and I believe you two are one of those.”
Atsumu knitted his eyebrows in confusion. “..Kay? He has one and I don’t, whoopee. ‘M not seein’ your point here.”
“I think your soulmate bond may be pain.”
That was ridiculous.
“Ain’t the bonds supposed to be, like, nice?”
“Not everyone has that luxury, believe me, I would know.” She laughed softly, holding up her decorated hand. “I crave whatever my husband eats. Led to a lot of self control. Right now it’s tuna.”
Atsumu just stared.
“So you’re tellin’ me, if this is actually some crazy soulmate thing, I just have to deal with it? I can hardly move some days.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Well it’s a good thing it’s not.” He sighed and stood. “I’ll take the number of the psychologist.”
Atsumu sat in an uncomfortably neat office, an older man looking at him with fake-soft eyes. He adjusted on the couch, granted, a lot nicer than his own, but still uncomfortable. It was stiff and over-stuffed.
“What brings you in today?” The man asked, straightening out the notepad that sat in his lap. “Your doctor told me she recommended you see me, but that’s all I’ve been made aware of.”
“I’ve had this terrible pain since I was like, fourteen, and I’ve gotten every test imaginable done but they always come back blank, so they think ‘M just psychin’ myself out or somethin’.” He muttered and stared at the man, his expression unchanging.
“And do you think that’s a possibility?”
Atsumu blinked a few times before he formulated a response. “Well it’s either that or I’m crazy and imagining it.”
The man shifted into his seat and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I try to refrain from using the word crazy in my office.”
Yeah, this definitely wasn’t for him.
Nevertheless, he finished the hour-long session, no matter how humiliating it was admitting all of his secrets to a too-soft stranger.
But it was worse thinking this could all be some crazy, unsolvable thing, so he took the man up when he offered a second visit.
Before he knew it, he had spent months talking to the man, and he had spent months in pain. This wasn’t working and he was close to running his bank account into the negatives thanks to his rather bad insurance. So he stopped going.
Atsumu sat on the bleachers as his teammates played, his eyes closed tight and his body curling in on itself, doing nothing to cure the shooting pain through his shoulder. It didn’t get this bad often, and most of the time it was his leg that hurt, rarely his shoulder. He could manage his leg, the pain subsided quick enough, but this was a whole new obstacle. He grasped handfuls of his hair as someone sat beside him, setting a large hand on his back.
“You okay, Tsum?” Bokuto asked, gently running circles along his skin.
Atsumu groaned in response.
“Can I do anything to help?”
Another groan.
His teammate sighed softly and continued to rub his back as the rest of the team chugged their water, they were on a small break. They were far enough to be left alone and close enough to overhear when they were mentioned, which seemed to be a lot. It always was when Atsumu was like this.
The boys were nice, Atsumu considered them his best friends, but they just didn’t get it, and at times it seemed like they didn’t believe him. And the worst part was, Atsumu couldn’t even blame them. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure it was real, either.
“I dunno why this shit happened to me of all people.” He groaned, falling onto Bokuto’s shoulder. The man wasted no time wrapping his arm around his side and squeezing his shoulder. “I’m probably one of the healthiest kids at this god damn school. I’m a D1 athlete for fucks sake.” He muttered, his voice surprisingly clear and level for the amount of pain he was in.
Bokuto whispered a few reassurances before he was called back onto the court, leaving Atsumu to suffer alone.
(✿◠‿◠)
Kiyoomi woke up bright and early, pulled himself into the kitchen, and sorted through his heaping pile of medicine that had slowly started taking over his counter. He found his most recent medications and filled his weekly pill box before he took this morning’s meds with a sip of water. Not that they did anything, anyways.
He laid out a yoga mat and carefully lowered himself onto it, taking note of a few new bruises that rose on his pale skin overnight. He turned on a playlist of soft pop songs before he began his daily stretches, careful not to push himself too far.
He reached forward to grab his foot when a blunt pain hit his side, his whole body wincing in response.
His fucking soulmate.
He had figured out his bond when he was little. He spent most of his time inside, playing music and irking his siblings, nothing that would make him hurt, but he constantly felt the burn of scraped knees and broken bones, enough to send him into crying fits. If only he knew what was waiting for him.
His soulmate seemed to get hurt a lot, but it was easy to differentiate it from his own. Sakusa’s pain was sharp and internal, it was quick to make his eyes water and knock him to the ground, while his soulmate’s hits felt dull and hard, like one impact that was easy to walk off. It usually faded pretty quickly but remained sore for an annoyingly long time.
Sakusa thought about it a lot.
He felt a little bad for whoever his other half was. They were clearly in a situation where they got hit around a lot, and they had to deal with Kiyoomi’s illness on top of it. They probably had no idea what it was, either.
He wondered if it was worth trying anymore. Was love even worth making another person suffer through his daily aches?
He pushed the question to the back of his mind, knowing it wasn’t going anywhere healthy.
Kiyoomi changed into his work uniform after milling around all day and left his apartment, pulling a heavy coat over his black shirt. He carefully walked out onto the frozen-over sidewalk, eyes focused on the snow as he marched to the bus stop. His knees weren’t cooperating today, shaky and unstable, so it took a little more focus than usual.
A bike flew past him and Kiyoomi stepped aside, his foot slipping off of the curb. He let out an embarrassing squeak as he fell out onto the road, a hand flying back in an attempt to brace himself on the asphalt.
His mind clouded as he looked around, thankfully alive, and watched the man jump off his bike and run over. He held both hands out and Kiyoomi took them, allowing him to help him onto his feet. He felt light headed.
The man panicked, his breath heavy as he looked Kiyoomi over for any scrapes or cuts. “I’m so sorry, oh my god, are you okay?” He spat out the words quicker than Kiyoomi could process. He was distracted by fiery red hair and bright eyes. “Sir?”
Kiyoomi blinked a few times before he nodded, holding onto the man’s shoulder as he got a grip of himself. He tugged down the shoulder of his jacket and lifted his sleeve, frowning at the way his shoulder poked out, the usually rounded edges now sharp with bone.
The man’s eyes widened, “Oh my god.”
“It’s fine.” Kiyoomi reassured, “Not a big deal.” He added on, the shock finally beginning to fade. Now it was raw pain, shooting through his arm and collarbones. The stranger seemed a little calmer now and helped Kiyoomi to a bench, watching as he stretched his arm over his head and tugged on it, hearing a small pop as it visibly slid into its socket.
He let out a shaky breath and gripped his knees with white knuckles as he shut his eyes as tight as he could, desperately trying to get the pain under control.
“Do you need to go see a doctor or something? I’m headed to school now, you can come see the nurse if you need-”
“It’s fine.” Kiyoomi sighed, just wanting the man gone. “You should get wherever you were going, you looked like you were in a rush.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He said through gritted teeth. The man apologized again before he hopped onto his bike and scurried off, leaving Sakusa to deal with it himself. He took a few moments to let the pain go down before he continued his walk, cutting it too close for comfort.
He hopped onto the bus right before it left and found his seat, rubbing at his arm gently. He felt pain on his scalp and five spots on his arm and frowned, an unpleasant reminder that his soulmate felt all of that.
Kiyoomi milled through his work day with little problem, thanking the lord he wasn’t stuck working the drive thru. The man in front of him was looking over their menu, it was written on a chalkboard that hung above his head.
He was one of the cuter customers of the day, a black backpack hugged his shoulders and blond hair stuck out beneath a cap that had some sort of animal on the front, ‘BJ’ written beneath him. Kiyoomi bit back the too-obvious joke.
Hazel eyes looked at him, widening slightly. “I’ll uh, I’ll do a medium macchiato. Car’mel.”
Sakusa nodded and scribbled the order down on a white cup, “Is that all?”
The man nodded, eyes still wide, but now his hands were fiddling with a black leather wallet.
“Can I get a name for your order?” Kiyoomi asked, looking up at him. He didn’t seem to hear. “Sir?” He asked again. When the man’s eyes finally snapped back into focus, he went red.
“Miya.” He blurted, his voice abrupt and loud, as if he wasn’t expecting the question.
Sakusa pressed something on the register, and the man held out a bill before he could even ask if he was paying with credit or cash. Sakusa took it and opened the register, automatically grabbing the change.
“Do ya got a tip jar?” The man asked, sounding a little calmer.
“No.” He shook his head, taking note of the way the customer tilted his head. “Most people are mobile orders or they use cards, so there’s not much of a need for it.” He explained as he held out the change.
“Keep it.” Miya insisted, “As a tip.”
Sakusa smiled softly beneath his mask and nodded, “Thank you.”
The customer gave an over-zealous nod and ran off to a table in the back, taking a laptop and textbook out.
Kiyoomi made his drink with a little extra care, his hands trembling over the pumps and lids. He stretched out his fingers and furrowed his eyebrows, carefully rolling his wrists in the air.
“You good, Sakusa?” A coworker, Kageyama asked.
“Yeah.” He exhaled and picked up the cup again, snapping a lid on top.
“Do you want me to take orders for a minute?”
“Would you?” He turned. Surprise was evident on his friend’s face, Sakusa nearly always shot down the offer. “Just for a few minutes, I need to stretch.”
Kageyama nodded and took his place at the register.
“Miya!” Sakusa called out, placing the drink on the opposite end of the counter. The blond popped up and made his way over, taking the drink. He looked tense.
“Thank ya.” He grinned, Kiyoomi unsure how much of it was plastic.
He nodded and watched him return to his seat. Sakusa stepped out into the cafe and found an empty table, planted his hands on the wood, and carefully leaned onto them. He flipped his hands so the backs were against the table, leaning left and right. He looked up to see the blond watching him intently.
Sakusa shot him a look, and Miya quickly looked away, leaving him feeling oddly cold. He felt warmth slowly creep back in, and as he expected, the man was looking at him again.
“Can I help you?” He asked.
Miya gulped and shook his head as he went a deep shade of scarlet, his fingers curled above his keyboard. He looked back at him, “Actually,” he began his heart thumping loud in his head. “Are you on break?”
“You could call it that.” He shrugged and flipped his hands again.
The man must’ve taken it as a yes, because he perked up. “Do you wanna keep me company while I study?” He asked, an anxious grin on his face.
Sakusa glanced at the clock, a truly pointless action, and shook his head. “I’m only off to stretch.”
Miya turned in his seat, now giving Kiyoomi his full attention. “You’re real flexible. You a gymnast or somethin’?”
“No.” He chuckled beneath his breath, “Just a student.”
“With freakishly bendy wrists.”
Sakusa sent a playful glare his way. “Hypermobility does that to you.” He commented, stretching his middle finger down to his forearm, which made the blond outwardly cringe. He scrunched his nose and mimicked the movement, his hands nowhere near as flexible.
Kiyoomi wasn’t sure why, but it was endearing. He held his pointer finger up and pressed it back, the tip bending in an unnatural way.
“Ow,” Miya hissed, looking down at his own hands and balling them up into fists. He waited a moment before he looked up, his hands slowly relaxing in his lap. “Sorry,” He smiled awkwardly.
“You okay?”
Miya nodded. “Yeah, it happens sometimes.” He turned to his laptop, “You should get back to work. Your coworker looks like he’s plottin’ your death.”
Kiyoomi looked back to see Kageyama glaring at him. He left without a word.
“Didn’t know I was letting you go flirt.” Another man chimed in, Suna Rintaro. “With Samu’s brother of all people.”
Kiyoomi glared back at him. “I wasn’t flirting.” He stated blandly, he knew that reactions only fueled the man’s antics. “And who the hell is Samu?” He asked, giving into his curiosity.
“A friend.” Suna smirked, “Why would you be interested if you weren’t into ‘im?” He turned towards the blond, a lazy grin on his face. “I’m not makin’ fun. He’s pretty to look at.”
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes and shifted his attention to a customer pushing open the door.
(✿◠‿◠)
Atsumu stumbled down the hallway, stuffing a piece of gum in his mouth as he pressed the elevator button a thousand times. He groaned as he waited, hands in balls as he stared at the top of the elevator, a small light shining as the doors opened. He hurried on and turned to the floor panel, sighing when his was already selected.
He let out a long exhale and leaned against the wall with closed eyes, hugging his ribcage.
“I didn’t know you went here.”
Atsumu opened his eyes and looked at the man in front of him, his stomach flipping. “Oh, Sakusa.” He smiled, attempting to sound as nonchalant as possible as he fixed his hat, stuffing messy locks under the fabric. He looked down at his clothes, he sported black sweats and a red hoodie, a small stain on the bottom, and dirty white high-tops. Not a great look for his crush.
Sakusa seemed to pick up on it, a small smirk on his face as he looked Atsumu over. “You look terrible.” He said, his words dripping with sarcasm.
“Feel like it, too.” Atsumu chuckled tensely, keeping his eyes down on his feet.
The elevator seemed to be getting smaller and smaller as it dropped to the lowest floor. Atsumu adjusted his bag before he stepped out, glancing down at his fitbit and sighing loudly as he pushed open the outside door.
Sakusa watched him with narrow eyes, unsure why he felt the need to ask what he did. “Do you need a ride?”
Atsumu spun around with wide eyes, “Please.”
Kiyoomi nodded and walked outside, speeding up his pace slightly as he found his car. Atsumu noted that it was oddly close to the building, most students got stuck with their cars all the way in the back. He hopped into the passenger seat and buckled in, taking note of how clean and nice the car was.
“Thank ya for this, Sakusa.” He smiled, a hand tight on his seatbelt.
“It’s no problem. I’m going there, anyway.” He said as he slid off his mask and started the car. He set his hand on the back of Atsumu’s seat and looked over his shoulder, carefully reversing out of the tight spot.
This was hell. Atsumu could smell his cologne, or maybe it was his aftershave, and see every little dimple on his face. He had some obvious acne scars which manifested as small dents on his cheeks, but he had no other blemishes, if you could even count those as blemishes.
Sakusa settled back into his seat and Atsumu’s eyes flicked forward, noticing the handicapped symbol on the pavement. That’s how he scored a spot so close.
Atsumu looked at him for a moment, wondering what he looked like under the mask. He could see a fair amount of his nose, a bump on the top that sloped into the tip of his nose, and if Atsumu had to guess, it was slightly upturned. His jaw was strong, even through the fabric, and the dip between his eyebrows and nose was very prominent. His eyes were heavy and his brows were low, he seemed tired.
Sakusa turned to him, “What?”
Atsumu quickly looked out of the window, scratching the side of his face in an attempt to hide the blush creeping up. “Nothing.”
Dark eyes lingered until the light turned green. They didn’t speak until they reached the main building, the car stopped in the spot closest to the stairs. Atsumu hopped out with his bag, took one last look at the spot, and decided not to mention it. Sakusa would bring it up if he wanted to.
Atsumu waited for him to catch up before he walked to the stairs, no longer worried about the time. He was late either way, and what difference did a minute make? Sakusa walked up the stairs slowly, which Atsumu was grateful for, because he felt pain with every step and it was just a little more bearable when he went slow.
Atsumu opened the door for Kiyoomi and stepped in after him, “What class do ya have?”
“I have sociology next period.” He hummed, walking through the main hall and looking down at Atsumu expectantly.
“I’m s’posed to be in graphic design right now.” He shrugged.
“Then why are you milling around with me?”
“I’m already late,” Atsumu shrugged again, “We’re just sketchin’ today anyway.”
“Get to class, Miya.”
Atsumu chuckled as he looked up at him, “Ya sound like my teacher.”
“Good. Go.”
He rolled his eyes and waved before he turned into a separate hallway, finding a seat towards the back. “Sorry ‘m late,” He said to the professor as he set a few things down on his desk, it was still early enough to be excused as traffic or a late bus, and hopefully she would assume that.