Work Text:
Me >> oh my god i love you
If Atsumu's remembering correctly, he had dropped his phone which now has a hairline fracture along its edge. Not enough to impair visuals or cause serious damage, but enough so that it annoys him when he's trying to do mundane things like text or play Candy Crush.
That was last night, and he hasn't opened messages yet. In fact, Atsumu's tried to ignore his phone as much as possible since then because, well, are you supposed to want to dwell on the fact that you just told your boyfriend of a year and a half that you love him and, no he didn't respond with I love you too, in fact, he didn't respond at all.
So Atsumu's freaking out. You can tell because he woke up at four in the morning and took his morning jog (which is usually around six-thirty at the absolute earliest), then proceeded to be the first one at the gym at five - he and Kiyoomi usually walk together. And Atsumu's not avoiding him, but he's not opposed to shifting his schedule by two or three hours to avoid a possibly relationship-ending conversation.
Avoidance is not usually his tactic because it's a cowardly move and it takes an enormous amount of effort. Plus, Atsumu's a naturally confrontational person - he gets angry and calms back down just as quickly, the whole Miya family is like that - but Kiyoomi's made him a better person. Or at least, he likes to think that.
Anger doesn't work with Kiyoomi Sakusa. Getting mad and screaming shuts him down, like flicking the off switch on a robot. And that's a more terrifying prospect, because when Kiyoomi shuts down, he doesn't talk. And he doesn't talk for a really long time. And if you know anything about Atsumu, you know that he requires a constant stream of affection just to function normally.
Which is why he's not going to confront Kiyoomi about it and he's not going to get mad about it and he's just going to pretend like it never happened in the first place. Avoidance is like a drug, once you learn how to function with the inconveniences it brings, you can learn to enjoy its relaxing benefits. Atsumu isn't quite feeling the relaxed part of it yet, but he's sure, with time, he'll learn to function in this new reality.
There are a lot of things better than losing Kiyoomi Sakusa. Like catching a deadly disease or getting run over by a train or a zombie apocalypse- actually, really anything.
Because, whether he likes it or not, Kiyoomi's taken a piece of his soul that he's never going to get back, so really the only option is for Atsumu to keep him around forever and ever until they both die.
Which isn't going to happen if he talks to Kiyoomi and it turns out that, no Kiyoomi doesn't love him back, and no, Kiyoomi's not ready for that step. Which is why Atsumu has made the executive decision to just ignore the problem until it (probably does not) take care of itself.
He practices setting to Bokuto - a disaster if he's ever seen one. It stands to reason that when you spend most days learning how to toss perfectly to someone (Kiyoomi), learning the way their body moves and reacts, gauging their reactions time in respects to the way you set the ball, that trying to adapt that to another person (Bokuto) however good either party may be, is a challenge.
Bokuto and Hinata always get in early, but only because they both have the energy capacities of five-year-olds. Between Hinata's grumping about having to be the one who tosses the ball and Bokuto's whining about how he can't seem to hit Atsumu's spikes right, the setter is efficiently distracted. No time to think about how you're relationship is imminently about to end when you've got two actual children to take care of.
"I'm not doing it right, Tsum-Tsum," Bokuto laments for the nth time that morning, just as the sun's coming up. In truth, it's a combination of Atsumu being way off his game, and, yes, Bokuto isn't doing it right, at all. He's jumping too early and he's not putting enough force behind his swing, probably because he's worried about it going out.
"For the millionth fuckin' time, Bokkun, yer doin' it fine. I'm havin' a rough day. Just jump a second later and don't be afraid ta use yer arm," he's been mumbling the same thing for an hour, and each time Bokuto nods like he's going to take the advice before promptly chickening out. "If it goes out, it goes out. It hasn't yet, so when it does we'll make the adjustment."
This time, when Hinata tosses the ball, Atsumu's set is actually halfway decent, and Bokuto jumps at the right time which is a double plus. But of course, it goes bad much like everything else in his life - because the universe seems to be quite enjoying taunting him - when the door to the gym opens and both Bokuto and Hinata scream like nine-year-olds.
Atsumu drags his eyes so far back in his skull he can probably see his brain, scrubbing his hand the length of his face before turning to face the doorway.
He almost goes into cardiac arrest on the spot when he sees his boyfriend standing there, staring directly at him like he's the center of the fucking universe - on any other day, Atsumu would be flattered, might even poke fun at his spiker for the way dark eyes stick to him, but today he just feels like he's about to pass out.
His saving grace comes in the form of Meian entering shortly after, cutting off whatever horribly awkward interaction Atsumu was about to have to endure.
Practice is hell on earth.
Kiyoomi doesn't look at him, doesn't talk to him, doesn't make any passing attempt to touch him (though that's not quite that unusual). And the worst part is that he spends the entire time setting to Bokuto because at least practicing with someone who whines about everything is better than practicing with someone who maybe possibly hates you because you love them.
Atsumu doesn't understand it. But then again, loving has always come easy to him, and sharing that love equally as much.
In the Miya household, you tell people you love them before they go to the grocery store, even if it's just a few minutes away because there's a possibility they could get mugged at gunpoint and, if you didn't tell them, your last words to them would be, 'Ma! 'Samu's eatin' raw mayonnaise!'.
In the Miya household, you don't leave or enter the premises without getting hugged at least once, and you don't go to sleep without saying goodnight, and you don't start a fight without finishing it. And that's something Atsumu's just had to adapt to with Kiyoomi. And he was okay with it, at first, but you can only ignore the instincts that are trained into you.
Atsumu guesses it was only a matter of time before he fucked up.
He's dropped back to the present moment with a draining whine-
"I miss Keiiijiiii," Bokuto drawls as he flops on the floor - he gets like this whenever Akaashi has to travel out of town. Atsumu would be a fool not to suspect at least a little bit that his boyfriend's absence is contributing to their difficulty with syncing up properly.
He gets it. It's hard transitioning to someone new when you've spent the better part of three years being set to by the same person. And when you also have a relationship that runs bone-deep with said person, it only makes the bond harder to untether when you eventually go your separate ways. Relationships take a toll - Atsumu realizes this now.
Thus, every time Bokuto doesn't get what he deems to be enough of Keiji Akaashi at home, the longing extends to practice to the point where he's moping about the fact that said man is no longer his setter anymore. An unchangeable, immoveable fact, because Atsumu is his setter.
"I know Bokkun, but I'm yer setter now. Please, please can ya get up off the floor?" Atsumu kicks at the heel of Bokuto's shoe, which only serves to make the owl-headed spiker sag more into the ground, bones becoming floppy, useless tools.
Atsumu's been at it for half an hour now on the tail end of their practice. He's tried bribing and coaxing and even getting angry and now he's fucking begging and it's getting him exactly nowhere.
"We have like, five minutes a' practice left. Can ya please just do somethin' other than mope?"
"No," Bokuto pouts, the petulant child in him baring its fangs. "I miss Keiji!"
Then Meian makes the decision for them to call it a day, and Atsumu damn near drops dead. An entire practice wasted, and now he has to have a discussion that he really wishes he could just ignore for the rest of his life, and he feels so tired because all he wants to do is fall asleep with his Omi next to him, and instead he's going to go home and cry. Fun. His life is so fun.
Maybe he'll call Osamu. He knows his brother will only give him trash advice (or good advice that he'll refuse to follow on principle) but it's better than being sad and lonely. At least he can be sad and annoyed - he's pretty sure annoyed is preferable to lonely, but don't quote him on that.
The team files into the locker room, Atsumu takes an inordinately long time packing up his gym bag. Kiyoomi is always the first in, and Atsumu watches him enter without so much as a glance back - he's torn between being sad and relieved. On the one hand, he's avoiding Kiyoomi until further notice. On the other, he is hopelessly in love with, and sorely missing Kiyoomi Sakusa despite it having only been a little under twelve hours.
He checks his email - something he rarely does because it's a massive waste of time considering he's too lazy to organize it and keeps getting spam mail - just to waste time, wrinkles his nose at the hundreds of "free amazon gift cards" he's won. Trust me, if that was a thing, Atsumu would've monopolized it. People don't just give other people free money.
And he waits until he's ninety percent sure everyone's either left or at least finishing up before he even thinks about stepping foot in the locker room - if he goes in and Kiyoomi's still there, it's not like he can just moonwalk back out. There's no rewind button for life, unfortunately.
When he finally does decide he's waited a sufficient amount of time, the place seems empty enough. So he breathes a sigh of relief and goes to take a shower - it's actually quite nice with no one around (no Bokuto and Hinata failing at harmonizing on the Celine Dion song from Titanic, no Meian telling them to shut the fuck up, no waiting for showers or having to get naked in front of all your teammates, there's actually hot water for once). He should do this more often.
He's loathe to admit it, but when he turns off the tap, he actually feels relaxed. Which he knows can only be a bad sign because life had been a pain in the ass recently which means this must be the calm before the storm, but he'll relish in it, even if, at the back of his mind, he's waiting for whatever apocalyptic disaster the universe decides to throw at him next.
Standing in front of a mirror, he wraps a towel tightly around his waist and ruffles his wet hair - he's never particularly liked how it looks all floppy like this. He really needs a haircut - before exiting out into the main area of the locker room.
"Jesus fuckin' christ!" Atsumu almost slips and dies when Kiyoomi - who had not been there prior to his shower, by the way - is leaning on the lockers across from him, arms folded, deadpan look on his face. "I thoughtcha were gone," he laments more to himself than his boyfriend.
"I was outside. It was boiling so I waited in here...Atsumu-"
"Okay stop before ya say anythin'," should he maybe let Kiyoomi speak? Probably because that's what you're supposed to do to have a functioning conversation. But Atsumu has never been prepared for anything in his life, and he decides, just this once, that, while winging it can be fun and easy, maybe being prepared for all scenarios isn't such a bad thing. "I'm really really sorry Omi, I could tell ya that was an accident but it wasn't an' could we just pretend that that whole thing never happened 'cause-"
"Seriously shut up," Kiyoomi glares at him, pushing off the lockers and starting toward Atsumu like a wolf about to devour its prey. Alright, so Kiyoomi's not just going to break up with him, he's also going to murder him. Maybe that's preferable actually. At least if he's dead he can't wallow in his own self-pity-
"I wanted to tell you that I...." Kiyoomi starts, the words seem to get stuck in his throat, like this is the hardest thing he's ever had to do. And, oh god, Atsumu is totally screwed.
As if on cue, his eyes begin to burn and the urge to cry becomes a palpable thing he can hold in his hands. Of course, this is just what he needs right now, to cry and be a fucking baby - how would Kiyoomi Sakusa even break up with someone?
Atsumu's always imagined Kiyoomi kind of like a robot- or at least he had until they got together, and then he realized that he can be sweet and soft when he's not being an asshole. To be fair, the way Kiyoomi had asked him out was nothing short of emotionless.
("Go out with me. Or don't," Atsumu had been completely uncomprehending at the time. The fact that Kiyoomi had been portraying exactly no discernable emotions and had promptly walked away were both factors adding to his confusion).
But the close they got, the more Atsumu found peace in watching the walls between them crumble. The softer he felt with actions like handholding and hugging which were but inconsequential, everyday blips in his life before, but were now something to be cherished and worshipped. Until one day it all just kind of settled into place, the knowledge that Atsumu had found his it.
Kiyoomi Sakusa is it for him. Oh, I'm not it fer him. Maybe tears aren't so unjustified.
"I'm trying to say... fucking- why is this hard?" Kiyoomi breathes in a deep breath, fixes ink-black eyes anywhere but Atsumu. That in itself makes Atsumu's chest shudder with an ache, the apprehension, whatever he's about to say he's never said before or doesn't know how to which means he's afraid which means-
"I love you too...is what I'm trying to say. I'm in love with you," Atsumu blinks, mouth feeling glued shut as Kiyoomi locks eyes with him. He feels fidgety, like he needs to do or say something but he doesn't know what it is and he couldn't even if he tried. He's completely paralyzed with a lethal dose of sweet poison - he can't even bring himself to mind. Even when he finally manages to part his lips just a little bit, he's cut off.
Kiyoomi places two hands on his chest, splaying pale, boney fingers out over tanned pectoral muscles, sliding their way up to his neck then to his face, as if he's holding something precious. Atsumu doesn't know whether to smile or cry or both, likely, he's going to do some combination of the two because, secretly, he has the emotional structural integrity of a bowl of jello.
"If you're going to ask why, it's because when I saw your message...I..."
Kiyoomi looks like he's about to admit to murdering someone, preemptively rolling those pretty eyes of his at himself.
"Freaked out and dropped my phone in the sink," and oh, Atsumu wants to cry with how happy that makes him. And not because he now has hard proof of his boyfriend being an adorable dork - though the possibility will occur to him sometime later that night - because he has a boyfriend who loves him. Who he can kiss and hold and hug, who he can say 'I love you' to anytime he wants now. "It got totally fucked up so now I have to buy a new one."
"Oh my god," is the fragment of his thoughts that actually makes its way past his lips - among the colliding of everything he wants to say, that's the only thing that makes it out unscathed.
And then he's kissing his Omi because he tastes like whatever sunshine and stardust are made of. It's a secret of the universe's, but Atusmu knows it's sweet and familiar and only Kiyoomi Sakusa possesses it because no one else is worthy of something so divine. He shivers at callused hands gripping his bare waist as Kiyoomi eagerly parts his lips - that's as much forgiveness as anything for Atsumu being a brat.
He can still taste the words on Kiyoomi's tongue as they kiss - saccharine and permanent - as he smooths his fingers over Kiyoomi's perfect skin, his sharp jawline. Atsumu wonders what he would've done if this hadn't happened, how long he would've lasted in his petulance before he broke down completely and either went insane or ceased to be a functioning human being without Kiyoomi being his anchor.
Atsumu loves kissing Kiyoomi deep and slow, tasting him and losing himself to whatever tangible euphoria is. But what he loves just as much is how Kiyoomi places soft, lingering kisses of his lips afterward like an apology - sorry we have to part so soon - and continues to hold onto him as though he can stand to separate for oxygen but letting go is a little too much to ask.
"Now you have to say it," the spiker huffs breathlessly, soft into the air made humid by the warm weather and steam from the shower. "I said it and you texted it. That's like breaking up with someone over text. It's a dick move."
Atsumu should be more offended that Kiyoomi just called him a dick, and he should probably clap back because that's what he does. But instead, he just stands there with a stupid smile on his face, high off of Kiyoomi's allowance for the possibility of eternity together.
Atsumu always thought he'd never want to stay with only one person for the rest of his life. But, he also thought he was straight until the age of fifteen. And he thought he wanted to be a doctor until he was ten. So plans change. Kiyoomi is his change.
"I love ya Omi."