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Sakusa shows up at Atsumu's apartment, who promptly slams the door in his face. "Are you kidding me, Atsumu?"
Atsumu's voice comes from the other side of the door. "Omi, what are ya doin' here? Didn't ya see my text?"
Sakusa glares at him, imagines his gaze piercing through the slab of wood between them. "That's precisely why I'm here. Now open the door."
Atsumu opens the door again, this time with a face mask. "Why did ya come?"
Sakusa lifts a bag up. "Medicine."
Atsumu frowns. "Ya didn't have to, I could've asked someone else to bring some over."
Sakusa stops in the middle of taking off his shoes. "Do you not want me here?"
Atsumu shakes his head frantically. "Don't get me wrong, Omi, I love bein' with ya. But I'm sick."
"Don't worry about me, I came prepared," Sakusa assures. He's wearing his usual mask and also brought along a pair of disposable gloves.
"Promise me you'll leave if it gets too much for ya," Atsumu says, then he turns away to cough. It is a stifled, painful sound that makes guilt rise up in Sakusa. It doesn't make sense why Atsumu is the one being cautious when he's the one who's sick.
Sakusa feels his body involuntarily tense up at the sound of the coughs. But he wants to be here. He reminds myself that it's Atsumu and takes a deep breath. "Have you had any medication?"
Atsumu shakes his head wordlessly, swallowing hard to hold back more coughs. He mimes wearing on something on his hands. Sakusa nods, and he pulls on the pair of gloves he brought. Then, he gets Atsumu a pill and a cup of water. "Do you feel like eating?"
"Ya gonna cook?" Atsumu asks in surprise.
Sakusa nods. "Something light."
Atsumu smiles. "Sounds good."
Sakusa decides to make a pot of porridge. Atsumu is unusually silent throughout it all, and it unnerves Sakusa. He scoops a portion into a bowl and places it on the table.
Atsumu sits down. "Thanks, Omi. Wow, it looks great."
Sakusa grows warm at the compliment. He stares at Atsumu expectantly but he doesn't move to start eating.
"What's wrong?" Sakusa asks.
"I needa take off my mask to eat," Atsumu says.
"Yes, that is correct," Sakusa replies.
"Do ya wanna sit farther away from me then?"
The question feels like a slap to the face. Sakusa wants nothing more than to touch Atsumu without gloves, to sit next to him, and to actually take care of the person he cares about. Atsumu is so cautious with him, like he is glass, when he's not even the one who's sick. It makes frustration well up in him.
He pushes the chair backwards and sits a few metres farther.
Then, Atsumu pulls down his mask. He flashes Sakusa a smile so genuine that for a second Sakusa feels like there isn't a problem at all. He finishes the porridge quickly, and puts his mask back on before speaking. "I haven't had anythin' all day, that was good, thanks."
"Mn." Sakusa begins to reach for the bowl.
Atsumu intercepts him. "I'll wash, Omi, don't worry 'bout it."
Sakusa frowns. "I can wash it."
Atsumu waves him off. "I'll do it, ya can prepare yer things."
"Prepare my things?" Sakusa echoes.
"Yeah, yer goin' home, right?"
Sakusa freezes. "Now?"
"Um," Atsumu hesitates, "I thought-"
"Do you," Sakusa pauses, "not want me here?"
Atsumu's eyes widen. "What? Omi, no, I never not wanna see ya. I just..." he trails off.
Sakusa's gaze drops. "You thought I wouldn't want to stay."
Atsumu inhales harshly. "I'm sorry I assumed, Omi, but this isn't exactly yer type of scene. Not that I don't appreciate ya comin' over, but I was scared of..." he trails off.
Sakusa bites on his bottom lip. "Setting me off?"
Atsumu gives him a desperate look. "It's not that I think ya can't handle it but if I were the reason ya got anxious, I would hate it."
And the guilt washes over Sakusa again. But somewhere in him, he knows that if Atsumu had been sick and he didn't come over, he would hate himself too.
At Sakusa's silence, Atsumu winces. "Ignore what I said, I was bein' selfish."
"You weren't," Sakusa answers softly.
"Did I fuck this up? Omi, I'm-"
"No, I'll be honest with you, Atsumu," Sakusa starts, "I'm not comfortable now."
Atsumu looks at him worriedly.
"But I want to try," Sakusa says.
Atsumu's eyes widen.
"If you'd allow me," Sakusa quickly adds.
"Fuck, Omi, of course." Relief washes over Atsumu. "I'm sorry I assumed."
Sakusa feels like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. "I really want to hug you but I don't think I can manage that right now so can we just-" Sakusa holds out his gloved hand.
Atsumu slides his fingers in between his before he can even finish his sentence. "Okay?"
Sakusa smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Now let me wash up."
Atsumu hands him the bowl. "Wanna watch a movie?"
Sakusa nods. "Anything you like."
Atsumu grins as he turns the television on. When Sakusa is finished, he walks over to the couch. He hesitates minutely, like it has been ingrained into his muscle memory.
"Omi, if ya want, I'll sit on this end and-" Atsumu starts to suggest.
Sakusa plops onto the couch right next to Atsumu.
Atsumu stiffens. "Ya sure?"
Sakusa grabs one of Atsumu's hands which is hovering awkwardly mid-air. "You can touch me. If it gets too much, I'll tell you."
Atsumu relaxes and he leans against Sakusa. "I have extra masks if ya want."
Sakusa hums. "I also brought some."
"Of course ya did. That's my man."
Sakusa cringes, but he feels warm inside. His man.
"But ya really were plannin' to stay," Atsumu teases, "Ya really like me."
Sakusa hits him. "Miya Atsumu, you-"
Atsumu giggles, "That's a bit embarrassin'."
Sakusa hits him again harder. "You're embarrassing, you're more-"
Atsumu laughs harder. "Ow, Omi, ya hit me like yer spikin' a ball." He pretends to massage his arm.
"What?" Sakusa cocks an eyebrow. "Is all that muscle just for show?"
Atsumu scoffs. "Now, Omi, y'know full well that all of this," he gestures to himself, "is more than just for show. In fact, I remember a few nights ago, ya said-"
"Please shut up," Sakusa groans. "I beg you." He can feel heat rushing to his cheeks.
When the movie finally starts, Sakusa almost forgets how nervous he had been before coming here. Now it all looks so insignificant. Atsumu's got his germy self pressed up against him and sure, he will have to burn this sweater when he gets home, but he thinks it might be worth it.