Work Text:
Atsumu experienced the world through touch. It was how he expressed himself, his love, his passions. Any overwhelming emotion he had was shown through touch. When he was happy he would pull anyone into his grasp and shake them to get them to share in how he was feeling. When he was mad, he’d lash out at whoever was closest, usually Osamu. When he was sad, the thing that he needed was a hug from his mom. The comfort of being in his mom’s arms was unlike anything Atsumu could describe. The only time his mind was quiet was when he was being held. When he sat next to someone, he ended up with some part of his body touching them. He’d gotten told off a couple of times for it, usually with a slap or a shove from Osamu.
That was part of why he loved being a setter so much. He had the most touches on the ball, and it was his touches that let his spikers have the best hits. It was him to slap encouragements on his teammates backs and shoulders. During practices, he would move his players with his hands into the exact position he wanted them to be in. It was easier for Atsumu to connect with his teammates this way.
Everything changed in middle school.
Suddenly, people were shying away from Atsumu’s touches. He didn’t notice at first, but once he did, he couldn’t understand it. He didn’t stink, did he? Atsumu began to feel self-conscious. He tried to ask Osamu about it, but he had just shrugged him off without giving him an answer. It all came to a head one day at practice. Atsumu slapped the back of one of his teammates after a solid spike.
“Why do you keep touching me! I’m seriously sick of it! Are you sick in the head or something?”
Atsumu took an unconscious step back from the volume his teammate was screaming at.
“I-I’m sor-”
“Just stop! It’s disgusting!”
Almost overnight, Atsumu stopped touching everyone. When he unconsciously raised his hand to place it on someone’s shoulder, Atsumu would catch himself before it could land. He was filled with self-disgust every time he caught himself. The cruel words and twisted expression on his teammate’s face was enough for him to never want to touch someone ever again.
His mother and twin had tried approaching him about it, but Atsumu pushed aside their worries with big grins and a change of subject. He could tell they were suspicious at first, but, eventually, even they forgot about it.
Inwardly, it was a completely different matter for Atsumu. He began to hunger for any kind of physical contact. It turned into a hunger that was too painful to even acknowledge. It became a part of himself that he despised. It terrified him to think that there was something that he craved so much that it hurt to receive it. The few times his skin had brushed against another’s skin, it felt like there was fire ignited in his veins. He began to wear bigger shirts and sweaters so he could cover his skin in fabric and mitigate the risk of skin on skin contact.
Atsumu was able to continue living this way throughout high school. He would pat the air around his teammates backs and shoulders, not willing to risk the slightest touch. He learned how best to skirt high-fives, handshakes, and hugs. He wasn’t always able to get out of them, and when he was dragged into a team hug or given a slap on the shoulder, his body burned for the rest of the week. He could feel the exact impression of where he was touched. It was absolute torture.
Joining the MSBY Black Jackals right out of high school was the best decision that Atsumu had ever made. All the players quickly understood Atsumu’s touch-aversion and respected the space that he placed between them. It didn’t change the way they treated him, and Atsumu was so grateful.
For the first two years.
He trusted his teammates, loved them even, but he couldn’t show them that he did in the way that he wanted to. Everytime he tried to reach a hand out to Barnes or Bokuto, his mind fought against him, reminding him of the disgust and contempt shown by his middle school teammates. Logically, Atsumu knew that his current teammates wouldn’t do that, but there was a barrier that Astumu just couldn’t push past. The hunger grew even more overwhelming and demanding. By his third year on the team, he began to have uncontrollable emotional attacks. They didn’t happen very often, usually when he was in his apartment by himself, feeling completely and utterly alone.
After his fourth year on the team, Atsumu was considering taking the upcoming season off. His attacks were coming more frequently. Last week, he almost had one in front of his teammates. That was something that Atsumu wouldn’t let happen.
Atsumu was still considering this as he made his way into MSBY’s locker room. He stopped short in the door when he was confronted by a familiar face.
“Omi-kun! What are you doing here?”
Sakusa turned at the sound of his voice and gave him a short look.
“I’m here for practice.”
The ”obviously” was left unsaid.
Atsumu wanted to slap himself. The new recruits would be starting today. That was part of why he had been seriously thinking of stepping down for the season.
Sakusa walked past Atsumu to head into the gym, throwing one phrase over his shoulder.
“It’s good to see you again, Miya-san.”
Atsumu felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Sure, he’d played Sakusa in a couple of tournaments, and they even went to the All-Japan camp together, but Atsumu didn’t know that Sakusa thought enough about him to be happy to see him again. If anything, Atsumu expected Sakusa to hate him. Practice went smoothly. Sakusa fit right into their gameplay and the dynamic MSBY had created. All the sets Atsumu sent to him were hit with a nasty snap and overwhelming power. Atsumu was in awe of Sakusa’s skills.
After a particularly nasty spike, Atsumu walked up to Sakusa and patted the air around his shoulder, saying, “Nice kill, Omi-kun.”
Sakusa gave him a weird look, but continued practicing as he had been. Atsumu didn’t think much about it. That was how most people reacted to him when he first did that to them. Practice ended with a few words of encouragement and welcome from their coach. Atsumu walked away feeling like he could play this season. Playing with Sakusa was fun, and Atsumu didn’t want to waste a minute of it.
After a week of practices, Atsumu could tell that Sakusa was watching him closely. They hadn’t talked much outside of strategy and helping Sakusa getting settled in his new place in Osaka. However, all through practice, Atsumu could feel Sakusa’s eyes on him, tracking his movements. Atsumu wasn’t going to confront him about it though. He didn’t know why Sakusa was watching him, but he didn’t think that he meant any harm and Atsumu didn’t mind being observed.
The end of practice rolled around and Atsumu began to feel bad. It felt like one of the warning signs for one of his emotional attacks, and he started to panic. There was no way that he’d be able to get away from his team before it hit. He could only hide what was happening and hope none of his teammates noticed that something was wrong with him.
He was mostly successful. Most everyone had left and no one had said anything to him. The last hurdle Atsumu had to cross was Sakusa. Atsumu cursed Sakusa’s unnaturally long post-practice ritual. He wanted him to leave so he could break down in peace.
Atsumu heard the last of Sakusa’s ritual finishing and thanked whatever god was listening. He could finally let go once Sakusa walked through the door. But instead of Sakusa’s steps fading, they grew closer to where Atsumu was sitting in front of his locker.
“Miya-san? Are you okay?”
A dagger to the heart would have been less painful for Atsumu in that moment. He couldn’t speak without bursting into tears. He turned to see Sakusa’s concerned face and nodded, trying to give him a somewhat convincing smile.
He knew he failed when Sakusa’s brow furrowed even further and he sat down next to him on the bench. Sakusa’s shoulder brushed against Atsumu’s and he couldn’t help but flinch away. This wasn’t helping him. Sakusa hummed and pressed his whole side against Atsumu. Atsumu gasped and jerked away. He looked up to see Sakusa staring down at him.
“Please let me help you, Miya-san. I think I know what’s wrong.”
Atsumu couldn’t force himself to talk, so he nodded, allowing Sakusa to put his arms around him, pulling him close. It was pure fire. Not hellfire, but the purifying fire that destroyed the gaping maw of yearning that had filled Atsumu since middle school.
“It’s okay to need this. It’s okay to put yourself first sometimes.”
Sakusa’s words broke the dam Atsumu had built inside himself. Tears streamed down his face in relief and from how overwhelming the sensations were that Atsumu was feeling. He could feel the heat of Sakusa’s body and soaked in it. HIs mind was finally quieting down again. After years of constant noise, it was all quiet in Sakusa’s arms.
Sakusa’s hands moved up and down his back and even went into his hair to stroke the back of his head. It was no longer painful for Atsumu. He basked in any touch Sakusa gave him. He felt his own hands make their way around Sakusa, pulling him even closer to himself.
“Please, Omi, please.”
“I’m right here, Atsu. Shh. I got you.”
Atsumu didn’t know what would happen after this moment, but Sakusa had broken the wall Atsumu had tried to destroy for the past two years. He knew he would need Sakusa in the future. From the way Sakusa clung to him, Atsumu hoped that Sakusa would need him too.