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If Atsumu Miya was proud of one thing, it was his persistence.
He pushed himself above and beyond when it came to volleyball, and he was proud of that. He put his heart into everything. Atsumu puts his heart into the food he cooks. He puts everything into all his relationships. He puts his heart and his soul into all of his friendships. Atsumu Miya pushed. Even if there was a wall in his way, he would push.
The new wall in his way was Sakusa Kiyoomi. When he joined the Black Jackals, Atsumu made it his mission to be his friend. He just didn’t think it’d be so hard.
He thought that texting Sakusa every night at exactly ten pm would be a good way in, but Sakusa never responded.
night night, omi-omi!
Read, but no response.
Within the next few weeks, Atsumu kept pushing Sakusa to come out to team bonding night (totally his idea, no big deal). Sakusa always turned him down, saying he was turning in early for the night. Atsumu tried not to let it sting. He even invited Sakusa to the movie nights he occasionally had with Bokuto and Hinata. Nothing.
Atsumu sat down on the couch with a sigh, Hinata looking up at him with wide eyes.
“No Sakusa-san?” Hinata asked, a frown building on his face. Atsumu ruffled his hair, and forced a smile on his face.
“Not this time, little guy. Don’t look so down. Bo ‘nd I are here with ya!” Atsumu smirked as the bright smile returned to Hinata’s face.
It kept going on for months. Sakusa never responded to his texts, never accepted any attempt to go out with the rest of the team. He went to training, he went to his room in the shared house, and that was all. Atsumu even caved one time and knocked on his door.
Sakusa opened it with a glare, his hair damp from his shower. Arms crossed against his chest, a t-shirt that was too small on him, and sweatpants that hung low on his hips, Sakusa looked like a dream. But he raised an eyebrow, trying to prompt Atsumu into talking.
“Are ya doin’ anything right now? I was gonna go to the movies with ‘Samu.” Atsumu smiled as brightly as he could. Sakusa didn’t react, blinking slowly at Atsumu.
“No.” Sakusa said before closing the door. Atsumu opened his mouth to say something, but the door slammed in his face. He stood there for a while, feeling a pinch in his chest.
Sakusa Kiyoomi was hard to figure out.
He spoke to Atsumu only at practice, but it was the same amount he talked to everyone. Nice receive. Don’t mind. Try that set one more time. One more. And as soon as they all went home, it was nothing. It wasn’t like he was only avoiding Atsumu. Sakusa didn’t talk to anyone. And Atsumu couldn’t figure out why.
It was three am before he knew it, but he couldn’t sleep. His eyes were burning from staring at his phone for too long, but even when he tried to turn off his phone and tried to sleep, he would toss and turn. It was a nightmare.
He took to scrolling on Twitter, using his private account so no one could creep on the sad or the scandalous tweets that he liked. There was a song blaring in his ears, but he couldn’t process it.
His head felt heavy, and he didn’t know why. Even reading mindless tweets felt like too much. But something caught his eye, and when he read it, he read it again. And again. And again. Until the pit in his stomach got worse and he felt tears springing in his eyes.
why are you trying so hard for someone who doesn’t care?
And wasn’t that exactly what he was doing? He was putting his heart and soul into making Sakusa his friend. He was putting his time and energy into Sakusa Kiyoomi and he wasn’t getting anything. Sakusa kept brushing him off like he was a pest.
Atsumu sniffled, dropping his phone on his chest and rubbing his eyes. Was there even a point in trying anymore? It had been months, and Sakusa made it clear that he wasn’t going to budge any time soon. In a moment of pure weakness, he picked up his phone again, only to open the text thread with Sakusa.
All of them were exactly the same. The same goodnight next from Atsumu, and no response from Sakusa. From an outsiders point of view, it just looked sad. It looked like Atsumu couldn’t take the hint that Sakusa just wasn’t interested in being his friend.
For the first time, Atsumu had to swallow his pride. He had to give in. He had to give up.
Atsumu turned his phone off, letting stray tears fall from his eyes until he finally fell asleep.
–
Miya was acting strange. Kiyoomi knew it as soon as he walked into the locker room, and Miya didn’t say anything to him. There was no ‘good mornin’, Omi!” There was no asking if he slept well. Kiyoomi saw the bags under his eyes, and the way his face looked like it was practically dragged down. It was weird to see him so… down.
Kiyoomi forgot all about it at practice. Miya played the same way he always did: loud, brash, bright smile that lit up his entire face. But he only spoke to Kiyoomi on a few occasions. Nice receive, Omi. Don’t mind. One more.
At the end of practice, Miya talked with Bokuto and Hinata, not batting an eye at Kiyoomi. And it really shouldn’t bother him. Atsumu Miya had been a thorn in his side since day one.
But humans were habitual creatures. Change was scary. It was strange. So when Atsumu didn’t ask him what he was doing when they got back to the house, instead just leaving Kiyoomi alone in the locker room as he caught up with Barnes, Kiyoomi felt strange. It felt so off. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had gotten used to Miya’s consistent and overwhelming presence around him.
He also had gotten attached to the goodnight texts he kept receiving. Every night, without fail, Miya would wish him a goodnight. It was cheesy. It was childish. But it made Kiyoomi chuckle. It was nice knowing that Miya was thinking about him.
Kiyoomi was a firm believer in that you didn’t have to be friends with everyone at work. He believed that a person only had to tolerate other people long enough to get through the work day, and that was all. So he didn’t go out to team bonding nights. He didn’t join Atsumu, Bokuto, and Hinata at movie nights. He hid in his room, playing his piano and watching movies alone.
It was a lonely life he lived. Truly. There were nights he lingered by the doorway, contemplating going out and joining the movie nights. But he never did. He was scared to see what would happen if he let them into his life.
That night, Kiyoomi embarrassingly stared at his phone. He watched the time tick from 9:59 pm to 10pm. And he waited. He stared at the text thread and waited for the bubbles of Miya typing. But minutes ticked on. Five minutes turned to fifteen. Fifteen turned into thirty. And Kiyoomi was still staring at his phone like an idiot. There was nothing. He cleared his phone, checking the messages again. He reset his phone. He refreshed his messages so many times that he lost track of time.
But there was nothing. No new messages from Miya. And he didn’t understand why it made his heart plummet into his stomach.
On Friday, he waited. He patiently waited for Miya to come running up to him, bright smile and soft hair bouncing, excitedly asking for him if he wanted to come out with the rest of the team for drinks. But it never came. Kiyoomi sat at the dinner table, fiddling with the last of his food, and it never came.
Meian walked up to him, a soft smile on his face.
“Hey, we’re all going out. You’re welcome to join us if you want.” Meian’s voice was gentle, but it wasn’t what Kiyoomi wanted. He wanted Miya’s sparkling eyes. He wanted the bright smile that never seemed to truly go away.
Without his permission, his eyes darted over to Miya. He was lingering by the door, throwing his head back at something Tomas had said. He was wearing a shirt that he stole from his brother’s shop, a small onigiri in the corner. His hands were shoved into the front pocket of his jeans that were so tight they should be illegal. He wasn’t looking over at Kiyoomi. With a sigh, he looked back up at Meian.
“I’m okay. Thank you.” Kiyoomi said quietly. Meian smiled at him, a small twinge of pity behind his eyes.
“Okay. Have a good night.” Meian nodded, going towards the door.
The house was always quiet when the team left. Kiyoomi normally loved it. He loved being able to watch his show in the living room, where the tv was bigger than the one in his room. He could do face masks and make himself tea when he could. But now, he felt miserable. The silence was unbearable.
It went on for weeks. Miya only spoke to him when they were working, and nothing more. And it was heart-breaking. It was soul-sucking. Because, even if he didn’t know it, Kiyoomi lived for those small moments where Atsumu Miya tried to crack him open. Break down his walls.
One night, he physically couldn’t handle it anymore. He watched the time tick to 10:01 pm, and his heart sank into his stomach.He got up from his bed, completely forgetting his mask, and walked out of his room. Kiyoomi’s skull was screaming at him to turn around, but his body was moving before he could stop it. He was knocking on Miya’s door, his heart pounding in his chest. Kiyoomi didn’t have a plan. He didn’t have anything. He just wanted to understand-
“Miya.” Kiyoomi blurted out as soon as Miya opened the door. His hair was a mess, and he was wearing a hoodie that was too big. Miya’s soft brown eyes were wide as he stared at Kiyoomi.
“Oh, hey, Omi. What’s up?” Miya said, plastering a smile that Kiyoomi knew was fake onto his face. Kiyoomi blinked for a while. He didn’t know what to say.
“Oh. Uh… how are you?” Kiyoomi wanted to kick himself for how awkward he was being. Miya smiled brighter, and Kiyoomi shuffled awkwardly on his feet.
“I’m good. Ya here for small talk?” Miya chuckled, and Kiyoomi snorted, rolling his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the words to say.
“Well, if that’s all-”
“Are you avoiding me?” Kiyoomi blurted out before Miya could shut his door. The smile fell from his face, and he looked down awkwardly at the ground. He was.
“Did I do something to you? Is- Did I hurt you?” Kiyoomi asked, his voice wavering. Miya looked up at him, the brightness gone from his eyes. A snarl was creeping up on his lips, and Kiyoomi’s heart fell.
“Ya wanna know what ya did, Sakusa? Just look at the messages.” Miya spat out before he slammed the door in his face.
So that’s how that felt.
Kiyoomi stood there, tears burning in his eyes. He didn’t know what he did wrong. He didn’t understand. He felt like he was missing something big. The messages? Did he mean the goodnight texts that Miya stopped sending?
Kiyoomi walked back to his room, the vision of Miya looking at him with pure rage lodged into his brain. His legs felt like they were trembling.
As soon as he went back into his room, he picked up his phone, pacing in front of his bed.
It finally hit him as he scrolled through the messages.
night night, omi-omi
Countless of messages from Miya, and no responses from Kiyoomi himself. He kept scrolling. Surely he must have responded at least once. Nothing. Not a single reaction from Kiyoomi.
It finally clicked. Atsumu was trying so hard to be his friend, and Kiyoomi just pushed him away. He tried every chance he could, and Kiyoomi looked at him like a nuisance. Kiyoomi treated him like trash on the sidewalk, while Miya worshipped the ground that Kiyoomi walked on. All the movie nights he missed. All the team bonding nights he stayed home for. Every morning when Miya asked him how he slept.
How could he have missed it? How could he have been so blind?
Kiyoomi dropped into his bed, tears spilling from his eyes.
Atsumu Miya just wanted to be his friend, and Kiyoomi ruined it. He didn’t have many friends. He didn’t know how friendships worked. And he ruined the only chance he had with making any friends at all.