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It’s infuriating, in Atsumu’s mind. No matter how hard he tries — and by god, does he try so fucking hard — he just can’t get himself to… “go all the way” with his boyfriend. Atsumu and Aran have been best friends for what? Four years, now? So of course he trusts Aran to hell and back. And that’s clearly at least some part of what’s supposed to make him want this. At least, that’s what Kita said one time at a training camp. And the two have been dating for six months. Atsumu absolutely has very strong feelings for the boy. And that’s also supposed to be important. Plus, six months… that’s apparently a very long time to make a teenage boy wait, according to Suna.
There’s no way he can forget that day two weeks ago when Suna so casually told Atsumu, “He’s going to lose interest if you keep holding out. You say you’re into him, so what’s the hold up?”
And isn’t that the million yen question, Atsumu thinks as he feels wide palms smooth down his hips to grip his thighs. Strong fingers tease just under the edges of his boxer-briefs. A quiet part of Atsumu regrets choosing to ditch his shorts this morning, just staying in one of Aran’s long sleeve shirts and comfy underwear from last night. It’s the same part that gets louder as the atmosphere shifts around them.
The playfulness that usually comes with their make-out sessions and teasing — with the occasional step into that newly-familiar territory of letting his boyfriend guide him on giving pleasure — is quickly getting heavy with daunting intentions and expectations. He knows very well what is expected to come at the end of this path. He also knows the internal storm that follows him along the way. And honestly, 11am on a lazy Saturday with no volleyball practice is not the time Atsumu planned on dealing with it.
Static trails with the fingers inching further and further along Atsumu’s skin, his neck burning where warm kisses turn to nips and sucking. He wishes he could just enjoy this. He wishes there weren’t looming desires that he has no goddamn clue how to reflect hanging over him. He wishes Suna’s stupid voice would stop playing on a loop. He wishes the burning and tingling and chaos inside him would just stop. He wishes the touching would just stop. He wishes it would all just stop. He wishes—
“Tsumu, hey. What’s goin’ on?”
Atsumu jolts with the realization his body had completely locked up, that Aran’s hands left his legs to hold his cheeks. He stares, wide-eyed and lost, at the worried frown on his best friend’s face. His heart aches at the disappointment settled in the quiet breath that huffs out of his boyfriend’s nose.
Warm thumbs brush over his heated cheeks as Aran purses his lips for a moment, then sighs more audibly.
“Look, if yer not in the mood—”
“I’m sorry!”
Trembling, clammy hands slap over Atsumu’s mouth. His vision is getting blurry as he watches all the disappointment in Aran’s face vanish with the shock of Atsumu’s outburst. An outburst that wasn’t meant to leave its prison in his heart. But, the cage door has been ripped off its hinges, and all of his feelings and fears and regrets creep out of their sanctuary with their soft summary.
“I’m so sorry,” Atsumu whispers into his hovering palms. “I promise I’m tryin’.”
The shock hasn’t left Aran’s face. And it’s a bit surreal that Atsumu can almost clearly picture himself in this moment.
A boy made of fire, loud and bright and intense in all of his actions and existence. He feels loudly, he feels openly, he feels boldly. He doesn’t cry when he’s sad, or angry, or injured; no, he’s aggressive and snappy. He doesn’t even truly cry much when he’s happy, it’s typically just weeping from the overwhelming feeling of being cared for and loved. He’s just not that much of a crybaby like some people believe, instead he’s a loud ball of anger and ambition. It must be so strange to see such a big, loud boy become something so small and quiet. Fear brushes itself into his flowing tears as clear as the fresh water in the koi pond in the yard; it pushes itself into his uneven breathing; it carves itself into his broken voice. And Aran’s startled silence only makes it worse.
The anxiety and dread that’s been nesting in him since he first learned what sex was supposed to be in a relationship flees its cage. It escapes in a choked sob as he buries his face in the sleeves of his shirt. Hiding from the gross reality does nothing to help, he knows that, but it doesn’t stop him.
“I’m sorry! I don’t know why–why I can’t– I tried! It’s just–”
Everything is rushing out too quickly for his mouth to keep up.
“Don’t ha–hate me! Please, don’t! I can– I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it, please, please. I can fix it, I’ll try harder, just don’t– just don’t leave me. I don’t know– I’m–I’m sorry, sorrysorrysorry–”
Strong arms finally wrap around him. They draw Atsumu close and bind him against solid warmth. They offer a safe space to hide in, freeing his hands to grasp at the t-shirt he’d gifted Aran for his 16th birthday with a shy smile. The soft cotton of the collar is getting soaked as his begging turns into senseless babbling sobs. Gentle rocking combined with the blanket draped over the couple soothes more of his vulnerability to the universe watching his suffering.
“Tsumu, breathe, baby. I ain’t mad atcha. I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’re okay, you’re safe with me. I still love ya so much, kitten. So, so much.” The steady reassurances slowly drown out the static in Atsumu’s mind. “My good kitten. Just like that, keep breathing. Everything’s gonna be alright. I’m right here.”
Eventually, the senseless stream of apologies dies out into coughing sobs, then heartbroken weeping. His vice grip on the shirt never loosens, and the rocking never loses its rhythm. Aran’s reassurances turn into soft lullabies, familiar and warm in their tunes. With a bit more time, Atsumu falls almost completely quiet.
Another few moments pass, and the giant elephant in the living room is finally acknowledged.
“What’s goin’ through that busy brain?”
There’s no more energy left to hold up a mask. “I don’t like it.”
“What don’tcha like?”
That takes a second of debate to answer. Does he go with full honesty? Or does he go with technical truths? Or does he flat out lie? Their Mama’s voice rings clear in his mind.
Don’t y’all go breaking each other’s hearts over bad communication. Ask what needs answered. Answer what’s been asked. For the love of god, just. Talk. No matter what it takes.
“I don’t like…” Even the word feels gross to say out loud. “Sex?”
He gets a hum of acknowledgement for his confession. Somehow, his body is able to produce more tears to fill his lashes as that anxiety crawls up his throat. But, his boyfriend comes to his rescue as always.
“That’s okay, I still love you.”
For some reason, such a simple sentence shakes Atsumu to his core. He doesn’t bother fighting the weak sob. A strong hand rubs up and down his back.
“But–...”
“Hm?” Aran prompts his brief second of quiet. “C’mon, I need some help from my chatterbox here.”
The gentle prod to his soaked, sweaty cheek makes Atsumu smile just a tiny bit. It fades, though.
“Sunarin… He said yer gonna get tired of me. Cause I don’t like bein’ touched.” His hoarse voice cracks as that ache spreads from his chest to his stomach. “Normal guys need that stuff to be happy. Don’t they?”
The hand on his back pauses for a brief second before Aran’s head plops against Atsumu’s. “That idiot,” he groans. “He needs to start watchin’ that smart mouth of his before I get Kita to run him for three entire practices.”
Atsumu huffs a small laugh. “He’ll never need leg day again.”
“Either that or I shove my foot up his ass right next to that empty head he’s got up there.”
“Mm. Nah, Sunarin’s head ‘s too big to fit a whole foot next to it.”
That makes Aran chuckle. “Yeah, yer prob’ly right.” Another moment of quiet settles on them.
“He’s wrong about me leavin’ ya,” Aran murmurs into his hair.
Atsumu doesn’t respond, just hiding further in his boyfriend’s chest.
“Maybe he’s right about normal guys needing all that. But, you should know by now that part of the requirements of putting up with the insanity of the Miya twins is not havin’ much normalcy yerself.”
Atsumu can’t help but frown as Suna’s words still drift around his head. “You’ll get bored, eventually.”
His best friend snorts. “No chance in hell.” A firm kiss is pressed to his head. “Boredom is impossible with you. ‘Sides–” There’s a little smirk in his voice. “I like what we got goin’, now. Like watchin’ yer face get all red, hearin’ ya whine when I got my hands in yer hair and my thigh between yer–”
Atsumu smacks Aran’s chest with a loud whine. “Okay, okay! Point taken, jeez!”
Good-natured laughter jostles him. A smile blooms on his face as he hears his boyfriend still be so relaxed despite what felt like a bomb drop in Atsumu’s mind. Still, while they’re on the topic…
“There’s… some stuff. That I like. With you.” Embarrassment already crawls up his arms. It brings an unexpected sense of insecurity.
Aran hums. “We can talk about all that later, okay? Right now, let’s just turn on Miss Kobayahi’s Dragon Maid and I’ll make us some breakfast. We gotta bump up the health bar if we’re still takin’ on that river quest, later.”
The mention of their river date makes Atsumu perk up a little. “Can we get pudding while we’re out?”
“Course, kitten. We can even stop by that little stand ya love so much by the shopping district.”
Giddiness bursts in Atsumu’s veins as he wriggles to cuddle closer. “Hell yeah!”
Aran’s laughter is a sound he’ll never get tired of. And when his face is guided up for a kiss, he knows he’ll also never get tired of the way his boyfriend grins right before Atsumu closes the mindful distance between their lips.
Those insecurities and fears and panicky feelings aren’t magically fixed with these reassurances and kisses. But, as he laughs into his best friend’s big bear hug with “Boyfriend uses Snuggles!” ringing in his ears, warmth and safety glow next to that ache. His shout of “it’s super effective!” brings tangible joy and love from both of them into the atmosphere.