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Senior year of college is kicking Kiyoomi’s ass. Don’t get him wrong, he enjoys most of his classes and he’s actually managed to make a couple of friends in the last few years, but it's still kicking his ass. Exhaustion constantly plagues him, his stress levels have never been higher, and his anxiety has been taken to a whole other level. He's willing to bet money that the only thing keeping him sane is the amount of caffeine he consumes on a daily basis. Is it healthy? No. Does he care? Also no.
Of course, the other thing he can probably accredit to keeping him sane is someone incredibly unlikely: Miya Atsumu.
They hadn’t started out as friendly towards one another. Initially, they’d been rivals on the court, something that Kiyoomi found a little exciting. In all his years of playing volleyball, he’d never had anyone that would go at it as viciously against him as Miya did. Miya was determined to beat him, bendy wrists and all, or die trying.
Needless to say, Miya didn’t end up beating him. Regardless, Kiyoomi had to admit that he admired the other boy for trying so hard. He was passionate about the sport and determined to play and be the best that he could be.
It brought no surprise to Kiyoomi when he heard that Miya had been signed onto a pro team after they graduated. What did bring surprise was a text from an unknown number three weeks after he started his first semester.
7:13am
From: Unknown
Hey Omi-Omi! ^_^
He’d stared at his phone for a good five minutes before responding.
7:18am
To: Unknown
Who the hell is this
He received an immediate response.
7:19am
From: Unknown
Ur fave setter, ofc!
There was only ever one person who would be so full of themselves as to think like that.
7:21am
To: Unknown
How did you get my number, Miya
7:22am
From: Miya -_-
Aw c’mon, Omi, don’t be like that!
7:24am
From: Miya -_-
Komori-kun gave me ur number
Kiyoomi made a mental note to murder Motoya the next time they hung out.
7:31am
To: Miya -_-
Please delete my number and leave me alone.
Needless to say, Miya did not delete Kiyoomi’s number or leave him alone. Kiyoomi responded once a week, hoping that Miya would get the hint and leave him be.
Miya was stubborn, though, and after a few months of never ending messages from the setter, Kiyoomi finally started responding more. Slowly Kiyoomi's responses went from once a week to every day and that progressed to the two talking almost all of the time. They called nearly every night, even occasionally Facetiming, and Kiyoomi found himself looking forward to those evenings. It was a nice break from the stress of school, even if just for a couple hours.
So now here he is, on Facetime with Miya four days before his last college volleyball game and trying not to laugh at one of Miya’s god awful jokes. Kiyoomi will never willingly admit it, but the setter is decently funny most of the time.
“Yer last game’s comin’ up, ain’t it?” Miya asks, propping his head up on his hand. He tilts his face to the side just a little, reminding Kiyoomi of a puppy.
“Yeah, it’s this weekend.” He doesn't ask if Miya will be able to come watch it; as much as he wants the setter there, he knows he's probably busy with his own team, not to mention how long it takes to get to Tokyo from Osaka. "I'm looking forward to it," he continues. "One step closer to graduating."
"That's excitin'." A small frown pulls Miya's lips down. "Wish I could go, but Coach wants us ta do a practice match with the Raijins."
Kiyoomi tries not to let disappointment rule his features. "It's okay, Miya. You're not obligated to come to my games."
"But yer my best' friend, Omi! I need ta do somethin' fer ya every once in a while."
"You just visited me a couple of months ago. Besides, there's always graduation. Are you coming to that?"
A bright grin replaces the frown and Kiyoomi can't help but give a small smile himself. "Wouldn't miss it fer the world."
The rest of the week goes by fairly quickly. On the morning of the game, he receives a barrage of messages from Miya.
6:16am
From: Atsumu
Good luck Omi-Omi \|^-^|/
6:19am
From: Atsumu
I'll cheer u on from Osaka!
6:20am
From: Atsumu
Ur gonna do great!
6:29am
To: Atsumu
Thank you
He pushes down the disappointment that bubbles up again when he remembers that Miya can't make it to his game.
He'll be here for graduation. It's fine.
He lays his phone down and starts getting ready for his morning jog, trying to make sense of his feelings. Ever since he and Miya had gotten onto friendlier terms and even become best friends, as Miya so often liked to say, Kiyoomi had been a little confused. At first he’d only thought of Miya as a friend but for the last few months, he’s been thinking about Miya more often in a . . . more romantic way. Wondering what Miya would do on a date, thinking about if the setter would still tell awful jokes while they exchanged kisses, wondering what Miya would like when waking up.
He gets about halfway through his usual jogging route before stopping as realization strikes him: he likes his best friend. And not in a platonic way, but like in a romantic way. In a ‘I want to hold your hand and your hand only because you’re the only person I trust enough to actually keep my boundaries in mind’ kind of romantic. In a ‘I want to wake up to you every day for the rest of my life’ kind of romantic.
I’m so fucked, he thinks as he starts jogging again.
The game is long and hard-fought by both teams but it helps keep Kiyoomi’s thoughts away from his realization of feelings from earlier. By the end of it, his team is gasping for breath but crying out in victory as Kiyoomi slams down the ball for the winning point. The crowd breaks out into screams and Kiyoomi reluctantly allows a couple of his teammates to give him a high-five.
They line up, thanking the other team for the good game. Out of the corner of his eye, Kiyoomi thinks he spots a flash of platinum blonde hair but quickly waves the thought away.
He's in Osaka right now playing Motoya. He's not here.
The team goes back to the locker room and Kiyoomi quickly undresses and heads to the showers. He takes his time, letting the warm water soak him completely through and relax his muscles and mind. When he steps out, the locker room is empty, save for him.
As he gets dressed, he wonders if the practice match has already started yet.
Maybe I have time to call him before it begins , he thinks. He pulls out his phone and clicks on Miya's contact. A loud sound echoes in the hallway outside the locker room and Kiyoomi startles. As he listens, he realizes the sound is the ringtone that Miya set specifically for him.
Hurrying out of the locker, Kiyoomi looks around. He spots him at the end of the hall, trying desperately to shut his ringer off. Kiyoomi’s legs carry him down to him, stopping a few feet away from him.
"Miya," he says, disbelief coating his voice.
Miya looks up, startled. "Oh, uh, hi, Omi! Um, surprise?" He gives a toothy grin but he looks nervous.
"It's not that I don't appreciate you coming here. I just didn't think you'd come like that. I thought you had a practice game today."
One of Miya's hands comes up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah, um, how mad would ya be if I said tha's next week?"
Kiyoomi sighs. Of course Miya had been planning a surprise for him. "I'm not mad," he says quietly.
Miya's face brightens. "Really? I thought ya'd be real angry with me. Or at least real frustrated."
"Why would I be mad?"
The setter shrugs his shoulders. “‘Cause I lied ta ya.” He shuffles his feet, shifting his weight a bit. “I jus’ wanted ta surprise ya. I know ya’ve been real busy lately with everythin’ and I figured it’d be a nice thing ta do fer ya.”
Overwhelming affection rises up and smacks Kiyoomi. This idiot, his idiot of a best friend, is literally one of the sweetest and most thoughtful people that Kiyoomi has ever met. He steps forward, pulling Miya into a hug. Miya makes a surprised sound but doesn’t try to leave the embrace, instead wrapping his arms around Kiyoomi’s waist and squeezing tightly.
“Thank you, Atsumu. I . . . I really appreciate it.” Kiyoomi buries his face into Miya’s neck. “This was a really nice surprise.”
Miya lets out a happy hum. “‘M glad ya liked it, Omi. Ya got no idea how hard it was not ta tell ya.”
"I'm surprised you managed to keep a secret. You're terrible at keeping secrets."
Miya squawks. "I am not! 'M a great secret keeper!"
Kiyoomi’s lips pull up into a smile. “Oh yeah? How about the time that I told you that I used to sneak Motoya’s graham crackers when we were kids and you went and told him?”
“Tha’ was a lapse in judgement. I had ta!”
“Face it, Miya, you’re a terrible secret keeper,” Kiyoomi teases.
“Well I managed ta keep it a secret that I like ya!” Miya blurts out then his entire body freezes. “Shit, I wasn’t s’posed ta tell ya that yet,” he mumbles.
Kiyoomi pulls back, looking at the blonde. “Miya, what do you mean by that?” Miya looks away, avoiding eye contact. “Do you like me?” Still no response. “ Atsumu .”
“Yes!” Miya says loudly. “Yes, I like ya, Omi. There, I said it.” He still refuses to look at Kiyoomi. “I’ve liked ya ever since third year nationals. ‘Nd I know that ya prob’ly don’ like me back ‘nd tha’s-”
Kiyoomi places his lips on Miya’s, effectively shutting the setter up. This isn’t quite how he imagined their first kiss, but he supposes that it’ll do. At least now he knows that Miya returns his feelings. There’s no fireworks like in the movies, but he does feel butterflies in his stomach. Or maybe they’ve always been there and he just hasn’t realized it until now.
Either way, here he is, kissing Miya Atsumu in the hallway outside the locker room after his last college volleyball game.
Miya pulls back, eyes slightly dazed. “Does tha’ mean-”
“Yes, Atsumu, I like you too,” Kiyoomi responds, slightly embarrassed. He’s not sure why, maybe because of the fact that it took place in such a public place, but it’s fine. “I just realized that I liked you this morning.”
“So are we . . . are we datin’ now?”
“If you, um, if you want to.” Kiyoomi feels incredibly awkward right now but Atsumu’s bright smile is making him feel a little less so. “I’d like to.”
“‘Course I wanna date ya, Omi-Omi. ‘S’only been my dream fer ‘bout four years now.”
“You’re a dork.”
“Yeah, but ‘m yer dork.”
Kiyoomi smiles, relishing in that thought. Atsumu is his now. “Yeah, you are.”
“Can I kiss ya again?” Kiyoomi nods, leaning forward to meet him. Their second kiss is just as soft as the first one but it sparks even more butterflies. “I don’ think ‘m ever gonna get tired of tha’,” Atsumu mutters as he pulls away.
A soft laugh escapes Kiyoomi’s lips. “Come on, dork, let’s go back to my apartment.”
“Can we kiss more when we get there?” Atsumu’s eyes are so full of hope and love that Kiyoomi couldn’t possibly entertain the idea of refusing him, which he doesn’t want to anyways.
“Yes, Atsu, we can kiss more there,” he says as he leads Atsumu into the locker room to grab his bag.
“Can ya call me that again?”
He throws a smile back to the blonde. “Atsu.”
Atsumu squeals, looking positively giddy . “I like tha’ nickname. Can ya always call me that?”
“Of course.”
Kiyoomi picks up his bag but Atsumu swipes it out of his hand and throws it over his shoulder. “Gotta be chivalrous and carry the bag fer my boyfriend.” He tugs at Kiyoomi’s hand gently. “Now let’s go back ta yer place so I can get my promised kisses.”
Laughing, Kiyoomi lead him out of the locker room. “Alright, let’s go you big baby.”
“You love this big baby.”
“Yeah, I do,” he says, placing a kiss on Atsumu’s cheek. “I really do.”