Chapter Text
His hands were dry. Clay stuck between his fingernails and hands smothered, leaving brittle pieces all over his careful, nimble fingers. The process is beautiful. A masterpiece is being created as he carves out details in the eyes, the hair, the skin. Countless hours are poured into this one piece. He yearns for its completion. Nights without sleep and days without even taking a break go by. Finally, as the last part of the hair is carved out, he’s content. He opens the curtains, allowing sunlight to pour in, shining over each indent and crevice. He takes a step back, looking at all his skill laid out in a singular work of art.
“It looks lovely, Kiyoomi,” his fiancée walks in, admiring the piece sitting in the middle of the studio. She places a gentle kiss on his forehead, being careful not to get clay on her clothing.
He smiles, “Mediocre at best, I’d say.” But he knows that it’s his best piece. It’s breathtaking, but he’s always expressed dissatisfaction when it comes to his art. Perhaps he still has a bit of insecurity remaining from his past.
“Whatever you say, darling. I’m off to work now,” she picks up her bag and heads to the door. “Alright, see you tonight, Kiyoomi,” she says, closing the door while she blows him a kiss.
“Yeah, bye, honey,” he mutters while trying to put some finishing touches.
~
When Kiyoomi was a child, he was labeled a prodigy. Those who know him now might assume that the label “prodigy” would’ve been referring to his ability to sculpt a work of art out of something as dirty and ugly as clay, but they’d be wrong.
When Kiyoomi was a child, he played volleyball. And he was good. Very good. It gave him a bit of an ego boost, knowing that he was one of the best. He could’ve gone somewhere with that talent, and he knew this. People would always tell his mother, “Wow! Your son is most definitely going pro!”, “Ah, I already know he’s gonna be a heartbreaker. Whoever his future wife is is a real lucky one.”, or one of the most common, “I wish my kid was more like yours! Kids these days are so lazy.”
He hated it. Being thrown on a pedestal and praised for his amazing work. Don’t get him wrong, he knew he was good, but the only words that mattered to him were the ones that would come out of his mother’s mouth. Or rather, the ones that didn’t come out of her mouth. Kiyoomi is 25. Not once has he ever heard his mother say she’s proud of him. His father was indifferent about the whole situation and merely followed his wife like a lost puppy. Either way, he stopped expecting praise from them a long time ago, accepting that he would never be good enough to receive their approval. Still, as a young child, he hoped that one day, he would play at least one game that would bring them to tears in adoration of their only son.
But his hopes were shattered.
~
It was nationals and Kiyoomi’s last year. His last chance to hopefully impress his parents. It was the last set, and all Kiyoomi had to do was hit the ball. That was it.
He sees the set and flies. It’s amazing and there are no questions about why he’s the second-best ace in Japan. His hand makes contact with the ball, and for a moment time slows. He slows his breathing, and refocuses, slamming the ball onto the other side of the court. His head is sweating from the bright lights, head throbbing from the intensity of the game, and he takes a moment to breathe. In, out, but as he breathes out his leg is suddenly hit with searing pain. He clutches his leg and cries in agony, but nothing comes out. Everything is silent except for the sharp ringing in his ear. The athletic trainer stands over him, asking questions, but Kiyoomi fails to retain consciousness and his eyelids flutter shut.
~
He tried not to let his injury stop him from going pro, attending physical therapy twice a week to try and overcome it, but deep down he knew that his volleyball career was over. Teams stopped scouting him and people stopped telling his parents that their son would “go pro” once he graduated high school. But worst of all, his parents stopped looking at him with that slight gleam in their eyes. That tiny sliver of what he saw as praise was gone after he had injured himself.
He was a failure. A fallen star. A lost hope.
Until one day, he walked past a room in the same building he was taking physical therapy. He saw a girl, her hair tied back with an apron covering her clothing, focused on the piece of art in front of her. He saw the way she carved the fine details that formed a face, how her delicate hands formed something that could convey so much emotion. It reminded Kiyoomi of how he felt on that day that he lost everything he worked towards, his emotion being thrown onto an empty slate that became something as beautiful as this, but he realized he was getting a bit too lost in his thoughts. After all, it was just a silly piece of clay that she was working on. How could a thing such as an inanimate object express how lost he felt that day?
Eventually, he snaps out of it and notices that he’s been staring for quite some time. She takes notice of him and flashes a smile. This causes Kiyoomi to blush profusely and start speed walking toward his physical therapist’s office. When he’s outside of her door he realizes how fast his heart is beating. Was this normal? Was he dying? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he wanted to see her again, and he did. Every Tuesday and Thursday he would come half an hour early to his physical therapy appointment just to watch her form something so beautiful out of nothing but a block of clay.
Over a month, he watched her experiment with different mediums, tools, and techniques. They never had a real conversation as they would only communicate through Kiyoomi’s awestruck eyes and her simple, yet kind smiles. But one day, she decides to speak up.
“Are you just gonna keep staring or are you finally gonna ask me on a date?” She smirks as an embarrassed flush works its way across his face.
“I-”
“I’m just messing with you,” she laughs, and that infectious smile of hers is all that runs through his head.
“I mean if you really wanted to, I’m free tomorrow for coffee,” he stumbles over his words a bit, scratching the back of his head due to his nervousness.
“How about now?” And without even allowing him to answer, she starts cleaning up the wheel.
“Oh, I have somewhere to be for the next hour,“ his voice trailing off.
“That’s fine! I can wait for you here, how ‘bout that?”
“Yes, that’d be great,” giving her a soft smile as he starts walking out the door.
“It’s Hirose, by the way. Hirose Naoka.”
“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”
And with that, he was out the door. After their interaction, they would meet for coffee after Kiyoomi’s appointments and talk about whatever was on their minds, and sometimes he would help her out in the pottery studio.
There was a day that Naoka didn’t show up to the studio, so Kiyoomi decided to mess around with the wheel. Even after all of that time, watching her hands mold and shape clay for hours, days, weeks, he faced difficulty trying to even get a mound shaped properly. He was so focused on trying to get the wheel to spin at the right speed that he didn’t even notice the light footsteps of a woman entering the studio. He wasn’t even aware that someone other than him was in the room until he feels someone’s arm snake around his shoulders, guiding his hands to manipulate the clay in whichever way he wished. Her touch was soft, gentle, and comforting. It felt familiar to him like she was someone he’d known his entire life.
This was the moment Kiyoomi realized he had fallen for her. So he let her teach him her ways. How to handle the clay, use it like it was merely an extension of his expressions. It was therapeutic in some way. Being able to separate himself from the injury that he thought had ruined his entire life.
He was a fast learner. He had been able to sculpt a piece that could’ve been displayed in a gallery in only two years. Over that time, Naoka got a job at an office building, but they still went on dates and Kiyoomi continued pursuing his newfound interest. He was a natural, just like he was at volleyball, and ended up starting a business out of it. He would do commissions for those who asked and they were beautiful. Carefully hand-crafted sculptures that would take anyone’s breath away. He was recognized in the city as a wonderful sculptor, and it brought him some closure. He thought he’d never be able to find something else he was good at, but he did, and he was loved for it.
Once he had earned up the courage and the savings, he decided that he was going to marry Naoka. He was going to be the one to make her happy and he was going to be able to spend the rest of his life with her. And when the time came, she said yes, crying tears of joy. They moved in together and their life was perfect. Work on the weekdays, dates on the weekends, memories being made that he never wanted to forget. He was content.
~
Kiyoomi is sitting on the couch fiddling with the pages of a book when Naoka unlocks the door and walks into the living room, placing a kiss on Kiyoomi’s forehead.
“Hi, honey, how was your day?” she inquires.
“Oh, just like usual, writing up orders and taking care of shipments,” Kiyoomi replies sounding half-dead, with his focus on whatever was written on the pages of his book.
She hums in response. “You know, Kiyoomi, you’ve been seeming a bit distant lately. Is anything the matter?”
Kiyoomi seems to be too caught up in the pages of his book to even care about the issue Naoka has just brought up.
“Kiyoomi.”
His brow quirks up at the sound of his name in such a demanding tone.
“See, this is exactly what I’ve been talking about. You’re either caught up in work with exhibits or focused on anything else other than me!”
“I-”
“No. I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen. How long has it even been since we’ve gone on a date?”
The man ponders for a moment, he couldn’t remember the last time he had even spent quality time with her. “I’ve been busy. You know that my big exhibit is coming up next week and I’m sorry I just haven’t had the time to-”
“That’s the problem, you seem to love your job more than me.”
For once there is silence. Of course, he loves Naoka, but why did it have to be between her and his job?
She huffs at his lack of response, “Well alright then. I hope you’ll eventually come to your senses.” She picks up her things and heads to the bedroom, “Don’t bother trying to sleep in the bed tonight, the door will be locked.” She closes the door and the click of a lock is heard.
Kiyoomi sighs. He takes a good look at the engagement ring sitting on the coffee table in front of him and decides he needs some fresh air. He grabs a coat and his house keys and heads out the door. He starts walking in the direction of the train station with no plans of where he’ll be going.
He picks the cheapest train, sits down, and hopes the ride will be smooth. The train is silent for the most part, other than the sound of the rails underneath, and there aren’t any people except for himself and an old man sitting on the end of the car. The train slows down for its first stop and the old man gets off the train. The doors are about to close but a man runs in at the very last minute. Breathing heavily, he sits down on the seat directly across from Kiyoomi.
Kiyoomi observes him, taking in his chiseled features and platinum blonde hair with an undercut showing his roots. He’s wearing a long black coat and is holding a bag. He seems familiar but he can’t quite pinpoint where he’d seen him before. Perhaps a wedding? It doesn’t really matter anyways since the man can clearly see that Kiyoomi is staring at him.
“Like what ya see?” he says with a smug look on his face.
Kiyoomi scoffs, “you wish.”
They sit in silence for another stop and nobody else enters the train.
The blonde’s voice perks up, “where are ya headed?”
He contemplates if he should answer him or not, and chooses the former, “I don’t know.”
“Ah, a man of mystery.”
The train makes a small noise, indicating the next stop is coming up. Kiyoomi prepares to get off since he doesn’t want to travel too far from his home since it is quite chilly outside. Once the doors open, he walks out into the cold, biting air. He starts walking in the direction of the closest cafe, hoping to get a cup of coffee before he sets off for the apartment.
“Wait!” The blonde waves him down, “It’s kinda chilly out here, grab a cup of coffee with me.”
“Alright,” he complies since he was planning on it anyway.
The other man’s eyebrow quirks up in surprise, “Follow me, I know a good place around here.”
And Kiyoomi listens, following a stranger he had met on the train only a few moments ago. Hopefully, he can defend himself if the situation escalates, but he has a feeling nothing more will happen. They arrive at a storefront he doesn’t recognize the name of, probably a local business. As soon as he walks in, he’s hit with the strong smell of coffee. It’s quite comforting compared to the icy, outside air.
“Oi, what are ya doin’ here so late?” a man nearly identical to the one standing next to Kiyoomi, except with brown hair, calls from behind the counter.
“I had to go pick up some stuff from the store,” the blonde set his bag on the counter like he owns the place, “I brought a friend by the way meet-”
“Sakusa. Sakusa Kiyoomi.” He decides to finish his sentence, knowing that he hasn’t even bothered to share his name with the stranger.
“Nice to meet ya,” the one with brown hair bows in his direction, “‘name’s Miya, but ya can call me Osamu considering there’s two of us here.”
The blonde one perks up, “Get a caramel macchiato started for me. Double shots. I’m gonna need it for tonight.”
“What could ya be doing tonight that’s so important ya need even more caffeine,” Osamu says as he starts brewing up his twin’s order, “Also, what did ya want Sakusa-kun?”
Kiyoomi ponders for a moment but keeps it simple with matcha. He doesn’t need caffeine right now, especially this late at night. He seats himself at a table close to the counter and the blonde follows behind.
There’s silence except for the sounds of their drinks being made until the blonde speaks, “So, what do ya do fer a livin’?”
“Uhm, I’m a sculptor. I make art for local exhibits in Tokyo.”
“That’s so cool! I’m a professional volleyball player here. Right now we’re not in season fer games, but ya should come to watch me play sometime! I’ll even check out one of yer exhibits.” He shoots him a blinding smile.
“Alright then, it’s a deal,” giving back a small smile in return.
Osamu comes over with both of their drinks and pulls up a seat for himself, “So how’d ya meet my brother?”
“I met him on a train ten minutes ago,” Kiyoomi states bluntly.
“Are ya serious?” He turns to face the blonde, “Ya met a stranger on the train and brought him to the shop? He could’ve killed us!”
The blonde sighs, “He wouldn’t have killed us, look at him!” They both turn to face him with curious looks on their faces.
“I need to use the restroom.” He immediately stands up, uncomfortable with the whole situation. With no idea where he’s going, he heads to the back of the restaurant.
Osamu yells in his direction, “It’s the door on the right!”
Kiyoomi enters the restroom and locks the door behind him. This whole encounter has been anything but normal. He freshens up and heads back out to sit down with the twins, but Osamu seems to be taking care of something else while the blonde is seated by the window, watching people and cars pass by. He grabs his drink from their previous table and sits down in the seat next to the blonde.
“Oh, yer back,” he says with a smile.
“I actually have to head out soon, I have a meeting to be at tomorrow,” Kiyoomi says.
“Oh, okay, let me walk ya home,” the blonde stands up, “Osamu! I’m leaving, I’ll see ya tomorrow!”
They walk out the door and the cold air overwhelms them.
“I live this way,” and Kiyoomi points and walks toward his apartment complex.
They walk in silence for a bit, but this time Kiyoomi starts the conversation.
“Why’d you ask me to get coffee with you?” He questions.
“I don’t really know,” the blonde says with a shrug, “I just kinda felt like it. Ya looked like ya were havin’ a crappy day and I thought it would help.”
“Oh, okay.”
The rest of the walk was silent until they reached the complex. They part ways but Kiyoomi thought that he should at least show some appreciation for the blonde’s actions.
“Thank you.”
“Hm?”
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, “I said, thank you.”
“Oh yeah, it’s no problem,” the man says with another one of his smiles.
Kiyoomi starts to head up the stairs but hears his name called, “Wait! Omi-kun!”
The man turns around and sees the blonde waving him down, “The name’s Atsumu by the way!”
“What?”
“Atsumu!”
Kiyoomi starts running back down the stairs to maybe hear the blonde’s speech clearer, but he’s too late by the time he reaches the ground. He heads back into the apartment in defeat and locks the door with a pleased smile on his face.
“What a day.”