Work Text:
“If you have one regret, what would it be?”
Atsumu was stunned by the sudden question given by the 5’8 feet man with unruly, orange hair and brown eyes - Shoyo. He cringed at the question, “Who lives with only one regret in their life?” He sipped his water bottle, still eyeing the shorter - who squinted his eyes in disbelief.
Atsumu, “What?”
Shoyo, “Not that kind of regret ! You know the kind of regret where you’d do anything just to change it. Anything ”
He judged the man, putting his bottle in the locker and took his phone from a small bag inside, “ What’s the point of changin’ it from the first place?” He paused, actually understanding the question, “I don’t know. What yers?”
Shoyo had his hand under his chin, “I believe I don’t have one.”
Atsumu sat on a bench near their location, eyes still not leaving Shoyo, “Yer don’t?!”
Shoyo, “Regrets that make me feel so sick to the point I’d sacrifice anything to change it? No. I’m grateful to every mistake that I ever made, it kinda made my life eventful.” He bashfully smiled, before faking a wounded expression when Atsumu scoffed at him.
Atsumu, “Can see that.” He rested his hands at the back of his body, staring at the ceiling. “What’s the limit?”
Shoyo only hummed, questioning Atsumu. “Let's say ya are allowed to choose and change them, how far would ya do something for it?”
Shoyo, “I wouldn’t sacrifice my life.” Atsumu stared at him with cocked eyebrows. “I wouldn’t give up my journal, friends or family but if it's money then maybe I’d have something I want to change. For now I’m content.”
Atsumu only hummed, amused. “Isn’t this like basically wishing for something that we never had?” Shoyo sat beside Atsumu, rubbing a piece of fluffy cloth against his hair in an attempt to dry his hair that was yet to dry from the shower he took before greeting Atsumu.
Atsumu, “Won’tja wish for height?” His comment only earned an elbow striked on his ribs. He laughed while hissing in pain at Shoyo’s response. Shoyo huffed and stomped, dragging his stuff out from the changing room, probably straight to home as their training ended a few hours ago. Atsumu only stared at the figure moving further away from him, still laughing but slowly they were replaced by tears.
Shoyo didn’t know this, nobody did -- But Atsumu was a little or more tipsy when he was on the training that day, he might even be high - can you be high on sleeping pills though(?). It explained why some of his sets were off. But no one knew, no one saw how problematic he was for the past months. He was the only one left, the other already left -- returning to their respective homes, spouse and significant others.
How old was he?
- He had been living for 28 years.
“Wow, I’m so frickin’ awesome!” He exclaimed.
Never in 28 years did he actually learn to love or forgive himself, punishments. Confidence never came with self-love and somehow he wished it did. Envy. That’s slowly become his full-time job.
Of who though?
Osamu.
Kiyoomi.
Tobio.
And maybe, that Argentina’s setter, Oikawa (?)
“Urgh..” He grunted as he could feel his head felt like splitting open. Since the volleyball seasons just ended they were given breaks and Atsumu had nothing in plans except to drown himself in self-pity and alcohol -- add up with some medications but that’s to him.
He stood up from his previous position, slightly wobbly -- losing his balance. He wiped cold sweat beads on his face, seeing the white cloth stained with his skin color -- foundation. He found there was more to pity about himself. The way he had to do a full coverage make-up so that people wouldn’t notice how pale he had become.
“You’re cold Tsum-tsum!” Kotaro flinched at their short contacts, Atsumu did too. He coughed, claiming to be under the weather that one day. After that, he tried to avoid contact as hard as he could.
He smiled bitterly at the memory, he remember Shion said something about there were suddenly two Kiyoomis in the team, but if he were to be asked as to why would he avoid contact he could dismissed them easily with “ I want to concentrate”- how he wished he could still do so easily - or at times where the hyper monster wouldn’t leave him alone, a simple high five somehow didn’t expose him.
He shook the thoughts and started striding to his car -- to which he believed he shouldn’t be driving at the moment. “I’m tipsy, not drunk.” He ignored.
“Honestly, I don’t get the hype at all.”
“About what?”
“Atsumu. He’s not that good, heck I believe his friends are countable.”
“Does he even have one?” He laughed, “If not because Osamu he’d just stay as loner ya know?”
They laughed.
“I bet Osamu got too busy doin’ all Atsumu’s dirty work that’s why he got into lower class.”
“Yer tryin’ to say while his “brother” is busy helping him make friends for him and be less lonely he just sits back and enjoys his little life?”
“Stupid, really.”
“Honk!!”
Atsumu snapped out of his dream.
He was about to crash into a car. He inhaled a deep breath. He stayed at the side of the road, head placed on the wheel as he was breathing heavily. He wanted to puke. “Damn this-”
He should stop drinking, he knew that. He was trying though.
He took one last deep breath before continuing on the road.
“What’s with you?”
Atsumu was recovering from his bare minimum breathing as he was from the bathroom -- intoxicating. At the moment, he was greeted by one of his fellow teammates - who he wished to be close with - Kiyoomi, by the running track.
Atsumu tilted his head to face the younger as he was still in the crouching position. Breath in, breath out, “Nothin’. Shouldn’t ya go home by now?”
It was indeed Atsumu's new routine - which was followed by Kotaro, Shoyo and Meian later - to run a few rounds before going home. He was never interrupted - something inside him was happy though Kiyoomi did, but there was a part of him that didn’t. He was the reason his new routine was interrupted, thus he had no longer his alone time to drown himself in the pit of self-pity.
He had to face him.
Damn, gifted.
Atsumu knew Kiyoomi worked his ass off to get to where he was, but there was no denying - he was gifted. A gifted person with passion.
How sickening.
At this point, he knew it. How unhealthy his obsession was but he was already half-way in the track of envy - to the point he was so close to hating a person.
He didn’t want to hate anyone though, so distraction like whatever he did was the only way - alcohol, sleep, exercise, training and occasionally, smoke.
“What?” Atsumu said to get Kiyoomi returned to earth as he was staring at the panting man. It wasn’t like he was in daze as if he was thinking or processing something. It was as if he was forming words - to show sympathy. - At least, to Atsumu’s belief.
Kiyoomi scratched the back of his head before stating what he was trying to form, “You look horrid.”
Atsumu just stared blankly as to what Kiyoomi was trying to do because if he was trying to pick a fight -- he shouldn’t. But Atsumu wouldn’t deny it, he had eye bags, a dark and visible one - maybe that’s also the reason he started to wear make-up -- his skin wasn’t all pretty too, he looked tired and exhausted. Yet, he still took care of his appearance, he’s still someone who received “attention”.
“Wait, that came out wrong.” He mumbled - to Atsumu it was incoherent. Kiyoomi pulled his mask higher, as if he was trying to hide. Atsumu was on the verge of losing his sanity -- he stood up, subtly losing balance to which Kiyoomi took it as the older must have been overworking himself.
Kiyoomi, “You good?”
Atsumu, “Never been better.” He flashed a smile, quickly after that he took what’s his and stepped to their changing room. Kiyoomi just watched the silhouetted, again trying to form a decent sentence.
***
“Yer still here?”
Kiyoomi sat on the bench in their changing room, phone in hand -- more like he was killing time by scrolling nowhere. He looked at Atsumu as his hair was still dripping wet - from shower. Atsumu had a confused expression on his face, “I took an hour shower?”
Kiyoomi, “Yeah, it’s not a bad thing.”
Atsumu, “I’m not talking about the shower. Ya tellin’ me, ya’ve been waitin’ for an hour?”
Kiyoomi fixed his gaze on the floor before stating what he wanted, “I wanna take you out for dinner..” It was simply because Atsumu lacked rest and was visibly working his ass off, he thought about letting Atsumu know he had hands he could reach.
Did it matter whether Atsumu knew about it ? He would only turn a blind eye to him, because he thought he was doing better.
Atsumu declined the offer at first but somehow Kiyoomi got him sitting at the passenger seat later on, making their way to the restaurant Kiyoomi had a reservation for.
They were surrounded by a few chats, turned into playful bickering and some gossiping, so the air wasn’t all tense and gloom. Atsumu couldn’t lie, the only time he ever despised Kiyoomi was when volleyball was involved -- and that was because he felt inferior, undeserving.
Kiyoomi, “That’s so dumb!” they let out humane laughs, pointing out lowkey highschool gossip. “I know right!” Atsumu could feel the throbbing in his head for laughing too much.
“Thread why Kageyama should be the setter for the Olympics and not Atsumu.”
“Fancam -- Miya Atsumu’s fancam distracted by Sakusa Kiyoomi I mean who wouldn’t”
“You can’t lie Osamu look better in ---- than Atsumu”
Atsumu read yet another tweet about how his brother is better than him. Though, it’s not a lie.-- Occasionally, he’d read the comparement game between him and the others-- Osamu has always been better -- the only difference between them was enthusiasm and the lack of passion or fucks Osamu would give to anything but his passion for food and his family. Unlike Osamu, Atsumu gave too many fucks to the point he accidentally allowed the world to write his fate. -- again,he lost --
He was staring at the post when Kiyoomi noticed he was being quiet. “What? Jealous that your brother has better looks?”
“He might even have a larger fan club than yours, “ He continued.
Kiyoomi didn’t realize this but his words only made Atsumu feel more sick -- not by the fact he wanted it, but by the fact he only felt inferior.
Though. Kiyoomi never meant any of them.
Never in his 28 years, he met someone who wouldn’t compare them.
But, would he fight? He wouldn’t.
He gave up because it’s true. Osamu has always been better and will always be. There was no use fighting the thoughts inside his head, if he were to reply he’d read the script over and over again, “As if I’m still way better than him.” He turned off his phone then continued faking his confidence.
“I’m better than him.”
I’m not.
“I’ll prove to him that I’m happier, now”
Bullshit.
He might be, if people stop and actually look at him.
He might be happier.
He drank again.
“Blerghh..!”
Just as he took a step inside the apartment, he skipped inside, letting all he was keeping out. He halted a few minutes before he found himself in front of the kitchen counter with bottles and cans of liquor everywhere.
“I should stop.”
He opened a can and gulped it.
“But maybe not today.”
He continued drowning himself.
Cans by cans, to bottles.
God knows for how long he has been on it.
He remembered hearing his phone ring a few times but couldn’t find it. “Wheeeree..” he slurred. “Ugh, shuut iwt..”
When he found it, he read the contact name that said “Bro” with a onigiri emoji on the side, “Whoo?”
“Oh, Saamu!” He giggled, then remembered that Osamu was coming to check on him since he was “acting up” according to him. No matter how much Atsumu claimed he was fine, it wasn’t convincing. Not when he didn’t get to face him.
“Hehe, Samuw iz worywing toomucch”
He slid down, sat in front of his couch. He tried to put the phone to the coffee table but didn’t manage to do so. He questioned himself a lot, what exactly happened for him to end up in the pitiful state he was in?
Was it just pure jealousy?
No, it was a way to run away. A way to cope with the ugly feelings inside him. Once, it was merely to “forget” until it turned into “needed”.
He desperately wanted to distract himself, not from hating people around him -- but from hating himself any further. He hated himself so much for years, and he wanted to stop that. But he couldn’t.
Confidence never comes with self-love.
He’s a confident, obnoxious brat who hated his looks, his actions, his thoughts, his figure -- himself. He hated how he couldn’t be happy for others, how he couldn't get rid of the pit looming inside him, how he felt sick at the thought of failing or disappointing others, he felt so sick and disgusted.
A day. A single day where he can proudly say he was satisfied being him. That’s all he ever wanted.
He gulped down another bottle as if he was drinking water. Again, he ran across the room to his toilet -- how many times had he been vomiting? Honestly, he could care less.
“This is fine?”
Osamu almost let out every kind of curse he ever knew once he stepped into Atsumu’s apartment, if you still could call it that. He watched as his twin dragged the bag he was holding before from room to room as -- Osamu took it as -- he’s drunk. Dead drunk.
“It iz?” Atsumu wanted to sound sure.
“It’s not! What the fuck? How much have ya been drinkin’?” He pinched his nose bringed -- totally not planning murder--
“It’s fwine. Fwine, okaayh!” Atsumu jumped into Osamu embraced to which Osamu cursed, almost dropping him. “Ywer wram.hehe”
“Yer slurring. Oh gosh, this reek-” He felt him, his slow breathing to an irregular breathing pattern. He just held Atsumu tighter, a sudden anxiousness taking him. He got even more scared of the contact, he’s cold. Way too cold.
“I cowuld never hate ya, ywer really izs the bwest ‘Swamuu.. Haha..” -- he couldn’t blame anyone for his state, he simply knew it’s his fault. His fault for existing.-- Atsumu ‘fell asleep’ in Osamu’s hug.
“What’re ya talkin’ about?”softly, he tried to sound as soft as he could. He felt heavy, did Tsumu sleep on him? “Hey, Tsumu? Tsumu, wake up.”
He laid Atsumu on the floor, head in his hand, “Wake up, Tsumu.. Hey, hey Tsumu wake up!”
He tried shaking him, but nothing. His breathing pattern became worse by every second. Osamu picked him up and ran straight to his car, driving them to the nearest hospital to be found.
He was scared.
Crying.
He thought, he thought to himself a lot.
He should’ve check-on him the second he heard about how weird Atsumu has been acting up.
He should answer the late night calls Atsumu had been doing for the past months.
He should... care a little more.
He thought once in the car, Atsumu would survive.
But that was only a wish.
A wish that fell into a deaf ear.
He didn’t get his wish.
“Hey? Why you cal-”
“Tsumu, he … died from alcohol poisoning-”
“Omi-kun, let's say ya have a regret that ya want to change desperately, what’d that be?”
Kiyoomi, “Like a mistake? I don’t have one, I guess. You?”
“I have one. But it’s not that easy to change it.”
Kiyoomi, “Oh? How much would it cost?
“A life.”