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Sakusa was wearing a new pair of earrings today, Atsumu noticed.
It was a regular part of his routine: Sakusa would come in, Atsumu would say hello, Sakusa would greet him back, and Atsumu would take a moment to look at what Sakusa was wearing.
Sakusa’s appearance always seemed put together and fashionable. He had clean cut eyeliner and makeup, his accessories sat neatly in place, and his outfit looked like he had woken up at 5 a.m. to make it look presentable and intricate.
Today, however, Atsumu couldn’t take in Sakusa’s full appearance as his attention immediately honed in on the new set of earrings he was wearing.
It was a pair of bead earrings instead of Sakusa’s regular charm ones—the bead earrings were technically handmade, Sakusa told him once—and there were four beads each. Atsumu’s eyes widened.
Are those the ace flag colors?
Atsumu’s mind whirred in thought as he looked at the earrings, and he must have stared long enough for Sakusa to feel it and turn towards him. He had a slightly weirded out expression, and Atsumu imagined his piercings moving with him underneath the mask as he spoke.
“Uh, Miya? Do you need anything?” Sakusa asked, and his eyes flickered to his blank canvas back to Atsumu periodically. Atsumu snapped out of his thoughts and focused on Sakusa’s face, blushing.
“Oh shit um-No! No. I don’t need anything ‘s just,” Atsumu trailed off, and Sakusa prompted him to continue, their class starting in a few minutes. And Atsumu knew they both needed the four hours they had to get as much painting done.
“Yer earrings look nice today. I like the colors,” Atsumu finished dumbly, some of his brain still stuck on the theory of if the earrings were meant to resemble the asexual flag.
“Oh. Thank you,” Sakusa replied awkwardly, and with the help of the sunlight pouring through the overhead windows, Atsumu could see a faint blush beneath his tired, stress of a million art assignments eyes.
They both turned back to their blank canvases, but Atsumu’s idea for his painting was on the back burner as he continued to think about Sakusa’s earrings.
——
Was it a good idea to be working on jewelry outside when the wind could blow the beads away at any moment? Probably not. That didn’t stop Sakusa though as he slipped one bead after another onto a work in progress necklace.
And was Atsumu watching this? Yes, he unashamedly was.
He should have been coming up with thumbnails in his sketchbook for one of his minor assignments, but Sakusa was right there dammit, and the sunny day wasn’t helping much.
It shone down on Sakusa’s lush face, his piercings, his expertly arranged outfit—how the fuck he manages to look so put together everyday is a mystery to Atsumu’s hoodie and sweatpants—and his charm earrings.
Speaking of earrings-
“Hey Omi-kun?” Atsumu called, and Sakusa’s small nod as he continued picking out certain beads for the necklace was enough for him to go on.
“Remember those earrings ya wore the other day? The bead ones?”
“The ones you complimented me on?” Sakusa muttered in a state of multitasking, but Atsumu could see him drop a bead and it rolled over the table into the grass. Sakusa cursed, and it looked like he was debating if he should pick it up.
“Yeah, those ones.” Atsumu paused, and a bout of overthinking that only creeped in when regarding Sakusa took over in that moment.
What if he was wrong? What if those colors weren’t resembling the ace flag? Maybe he just needed some earrings to match his whole goth aesthetic.
It would be nice if Atsumu were to know someone like him, though.
Would Sakusa get mad at the question? What if he made him uncomfortable? Was he intolerant? They’ve been close friends for a while, but Atsumu was still hesitant, for himself and for Sakusa.
Atsumu picked apart his brain, trying to remember the times where Sakusa had been with him to unwillingly witness his brother’s and friends’ gay, stupid, and annoyingly in love actions with their partners. Trying to remember if Sakusa had reacted badly in any of the memories.
There was that one time Osamu had called Atsumu to bring over food and he begrudgingly agreed after almost ten minutes of “why can’t ya just get it yerself?” and “cause Rin’s with me and I don’t feel like gettin’ up”, to which Atsumu responded with an aggravated ”Who’s the lazy one now?!”
Atsumu had asked Sakusa to come along as a nanny so he could make sure the blond wouldn’t poison the food on the walk back.
When they got to his twin’s dorm, Osamu and Sunarin had been cuddling on the couch, Osamu in the process of kissing his cheek as Atsumu opened the door. Sakusa hadn’t really done anything as he bickered with Osamu over the same argument, sometimes snorting at whatever insult Osamu jabbed Atsumu with.
”Yer supposed to be on my side, Omi!” Atsumu had groaned, but Sakusa just replied with ”No, I’m just your ‘nanny,’ remember?” Osamu had cackled at that, and Atsumu had made haste to the couch to try to suffocate Osamu with a pillow.
The next was when they were both getting coffee at the campus café since they both needed it to not face-plant on the floor in tiredness.
Atsumu had been talking to the barista, Yachi, with Sakusa staying silent again at his side, when Yachi’s fellow co worker—her girlfriend, Atsumu briefly recognized—had come in from the back and greeted her with a quick kiss on the lips.
Yachi had blushed in surprise as her girlfriend gave a teasing wave. Atsumu smiled while Sakusa again did nothing except use his pocket mirror to check if his eyeliner needed a touch-up.
And don’t get him started on Bokuto and his perfect boyfriend Akaashi-
“That’s weird. I’ve been able to focus in silence for a whole five minutes. Did you lose your voice to the sea witch, Miya?” Sakusa interrupted his thoughts, finally looking up from his jewelry making. He squinted at the sun with a lifted hand over his eyes.
“Ya wish Omi, but I wouldn’t even need my voice with all the physical charm I’ve got,” Atsumu replied haughtily in lieu of revealing his anxiety. Sakusa just stared in not even concealed judgment.
“You look like the product of someone suffering a cat hair allergy, and you’ve worn that hoodie four days in a row. I don’t want to know your definition of ‘charm’ to be frank,” Sakusa deadpanned, and Atsumu just stared in shock.
“I have not worn this hoodie four days in a row! I’ve worn it for three.”
“Ew.”
“Try being a cheap college student Omi!” Atsumu sarcastically and dramatically accused him. “Times will get tough.”
Sakusa just shook his head, his lips drastically down turned and his eyebrows furrowed so hard it gave the wrinkles an intense shadow. It smoothed out as he looked like he remembered something.
“Wait, what were you saying about my earrings again?” The question brought back Atsumu’s anxious train of thought immediately.
“Oh, I was just wonderin’…” Atsumu looked down at his sketchbook to hope for somewhere to focus his eyes on.
Maybe he should just tell Sakusa what he was thinking. With those past interactions in mind, it didn’t seem like Sakusa was intolerant. He did also give out his pronouns easily on the first day of class.
Alright, here goes.
“I was just wonderin’ if those were the asexual flag colors on yer earrings?” Atsumu still asked weakly, his eyes resolutely trained on something other than Sakusa.
He didn’t hear Sakusa speak for a second, and a wave of overthinking made its place in Atsumu’s brain.
Oh god. What if he made Sakusa uncomfortable? Was he breaching his privacy? Would Sakusa stop being friends with him? Atsumu should have just shut up.
The suspense was killing him, and so he looked up.
Sakusa looked the same, but he had that scrutinizing and analytical stare in his eyes. The dark eyeshadow and heavy eyeliner wasn’t helping him look like how Atsumu viewed him the first time they met: intimidating and reserved.
Atsumu didn’t give him a chance to speak as he started to do what he did best.
“Of course the colors could mean somethin’ different! Like yer favorite colors-wait you’ve never told me yer favorite colors Omi. Or they don’t mean anythin’ at all and ya just needed a color scheme to go with yer outfit! I don’t wanna assume anythin’ of course Omi, but that’s just what I thought of and oh god I hope ‘m not making ya uncomfortable-”
“Yes, they are. What about it?” His voice was clipped with caution as he cut Atsumu off, and his jewelry kit lay forgotten as he stared at Atsumu. He had a barely there, amused smirk on his lips.
Oh. Well, he wasn’t really expecting that.
“Oh, yer not mad or uncomfortable or anything?” Atsumu asked worriedly, the confirmation still frozen in his head.
“No. Why would I be?” Sakusa responded genuinely.
“It’s just - I don’t know,” Atsumu settled for saying instead, and Sakusa nodded. Trying to explain his complicated and messy thought process would drain everything out of him and he didn’t need that.
Well, Sakusa wasn’t uncomfortable or mad. That thought calmed Atsumu down exponentially, and a new idea appeared in his head.
Sakusa wasn’t uncomfortable or intolerant when Atsumu had mentioned asexuality, so he probably wouldn’t be fazed if Atsumu told him he was asexual, too. And Atsumu could trust Sakusa with not going around and telling people information such as his sexuality.
Omi’s safe.
“Basically, I recognized the color scheme, and it’s cause-” he continued after a moment, and with a small intake of breath, “cause I’m ace. Asexual. I’m asexual.” Atsumu took a breath, and tried his best to look into Sakusa’s tough as steel eyes.
Those same eyes glinted with a new type of softness, a glint of familiarity and the feeling that you got when someone was talking about something you knew all too well.
Atsumu watched with simmering patience as Sakusa went back to picking out beads for his necklace. “Cool. Me too,” Sakusa said finally, an air of ease and humor in his tone.
Atsumu physically deflated as the anxiousness blew away. “God Omi, yer nonchalance is something else. In my head I was fuckin’ goin’ o’er every time you were with me to witness my brother ‘n friends bein’ gay, and checkin’ to see if you were grossed out about it.”
Sakusa actually snorted at that, and he lifted his head to give a baffled yet lighthearted look to Atsumu.
“You were checking to see if I was homophobic in your head?”
“Well yeah! Didn’t wanna have a heart attack if ya weren’t accepting,” Atsumu joked lightly, but he had truth underneath the words.
“Understandable. But yes, I’m asexual too, and no, I’m not homophobic. Now start your thumbnails. I want to get this done,” Sakusa said with finality, but the slight upturn of his lips made Atsumu look a little longer as Sakusa slipped back into concentration mode.
Atsumu smiled fondly, and the remaining anxiety in his heart faded away as it slowed down to its regular beat.
He picked up his pencil, and with a last thought of Sakusa being ace just like him, he put it to paper and started drawing.
——
Turns out music couldn’t totally block everything out.
Atsumu had his brush poised above the canvas, ready to define an area with more shading when Sakusa had gotten up to get more paint from the shelves.
Even through the heavy and loud beat in his ears, he could still hear the scrape of the chair being pulled back. The painting didn’t stand a chance as Atsumu instantly looked over to follow Sakusa’s path.
The resounding click of Sakusa’s boots hit the floor as he walked, and his curls bobbed with the motion. His painted nails brushed over some of the paint bottles, and Atsumu blushed as he admired Sakusa’s beauty. He prayed that he didn’t have an utterly dopey and infatuated smile on his face that everyone in the class could notice.
It didn’t help that a romantic love song started to play in his headphones.
Atsumu felt like he was in a cheesy rom-com; he could picture it exactly. His eyes blocking everything out except Sakusa, surrounding him with a misty pink haze, and tiny hearts would apparate within it. But it started to feel like that would actually happen the more he looked at Sakusa.
Sakusa’s appearance was styled perfectly again today, his makeup and accessories making Atsumu fall a little more in love with him entirely. Even the paint-ridden apron hanging over him couldn’t make Sakusa look any worse for wear.
Some of the paint in his brush started to fall on the floor, but Atsumu’s attention was only brought back as Sakusa turned around and started walking back to his canvas, boots clicking to the rhythm of Atsumu’s unsteady heart.
If Sakusa had felt a very strong and longing stare on his back, he didn’t mention it.
Atsumu just kept painting with what he hoped was steady coordination.
——
“Hey Omi-kun! Which thumbnail should I pick?” Atsumu asked, his sketchbook open to a page of roughly drawn ideas for one of their assignments.
Sakusa looked up from his own sketchbook, but before Atsumu could even pass it over to him, Sakusa stood up and joined Atsumu on the opposite side of the table. He sat closely, leaning in to look at the sketchbook, but Atsumu only sat in confusion. It didn’t help his heart any better.
What just happened?
Did Sakusa really just get up and switch sides to sit by Atsumu, when he literally could have just asked for the sketchbook? Atsumu wasn’t complaining by any means, but it didn’t make sense.
Maybe he didn’t want to touch his sketchbook, but wasn’t this option worse in a way?
Atsumu blushed and honest to god started to sweat a bit as Sakusa leaned in a little closer, peering over the page at the roughly sketched out ideas in their own respective quadrants.
“I like this one; it seems like it’d be fun to draw. It’d also go with the theme pretty well,” Sakusa said, pointing at one of the thumbnails.
Atsumu grinned. It was a sketch of a figure holding a realistic heart in their hands, and there was a gaping hole in their chest where it should have been. Hands surrounded the outer edges of the quadrant, all of them reaching for the heart.
“Not really surprised that you gravitate towards the gory shit, Omi,” Atsumu teased to disguise what he was feeling about Sakusa’s proximity, and Sakusa huffed beside him.
“It’s not that gory, Miya. Just someone holding a realistic, bloody heart in their hands. But yes, you should go with this one,” Sakusa advised.
“Alright! I was kinda thinkin’ of if I should make the person be in the very center, or if they should be smaller and the hands go all around them,” Atsumu said, and continued to ramble about the exciting prospects he could add.
He stared off into the distance, trying to ignore Sakusa not even being arm’s length away from him.
Sakusa was silent and analytical as he listened to Atsumu with his hands in his lap. His hands were void of any paint streaks, and he watched Atsumu gesture his own hands around. There were stubborn paint streaks on his fingers, palms, and even on the underside of his arm that didn’t get washed away in his morning shower.
Atsumu turned back, finished with his rambling, facing the lack of distance once again.
Atsumu stuttered around unsaid words as he looked at Sakusa, who looked back with a hint of something in his eyes. Atsumu focused on the twin set of moles, his heart picking up speed.
The question of why Sakusa was sitting so close to him re-emerged. It was weird for Sakusa to do that, even with a mask on. He had seen the way Sakusa would physically get uncomfortable with people being too near in his personal space.
Whenever their instructor would come around to give some individual art criticism, Sakusa would shift away slightly in his seat as the instructor got up close to inspect his work.
Atsumu would catch Sakusa sometimes fidget in his seat from the lack of space, and once the instructor would move on to critique another piece, Sakusa would physically relax and continue working.
So for him to seem so nonchalant about their small distance, Atsumu was puzzled.
“But yeah, that’s what ‘m gonna do,” Atsumu added awkwardly after a few moments of silence.
Sakusa didn’t respond, and Atsumu’s eyes looked over his entire face. His moles, his expertly drawn eyeliner, the piercing on his eyebrow—every bit of Sakusa he took in with this unspecified amount of time to be up close.
It was quiet, and Sakusa’s eyes were vast as he looked down at Atsumu’s slightly parted mouth for a few, indescribable seconds.
Atsumu blushed as he watched Sakusa suddenly turn his head away and stand up.
“You’ll make it look great, Miya,” was all he muttered as he walked around to the other side of the table, sitting down and putting his headphones in.
Atsumu continued watching in stunned and bewildered silence as Sakusa drew in his own sketchbook.
Oh geez, he needed to call Osamu.
——
“I can’t believe ‘m saying this but I need yer advice, Samu,” Atsumu reluctantly but desperately says.
“Did ya kiss Sakusa-kun and then run away like an idiot without hearing what he had to say?” Osamu asks, and Sunarin snickers from where he’s resting his head in Osamu’s lap.
“What? No, I didn't kiss Omi!” Atsumu blushed furiously. “And how did ya know this is about him?” he added.
“Who wouldn’t! Ya constantly gush about him like, ‘Oh Samu he’s so pretty and cool! Oh my god Samu, Omi made such an amazing drawing today! Oh, Omi, Omi, Omi!’ I swear to god I have his entire birth chart ‘n childhood upbringing memorized,” Osamu groaned.
“I don’t talk about him constantly!” Atsumu denied, but he knew exactly what Osamu would say next.
“I knew ya were a shit liar but this is a new low,” Osamu pitied.
“Ok! Fine, maybe I talk about him a lot, but that’s not the point!” Atsumu said. “Basically, Omi and I sat kinda close today cause I asked him to pick an idea from my sketchbook for an assignment—which wouldn’t be weird except ya know he has a thing about germs and bein’ close to people.”
“We know,” Osamu and Sunarin groaned in unison, already knowing that particular fact from one of Atsumu’s daily ravings about Sakusa. Atsumu flipped them off.
“Anyway,” Atsumu said dramatically, “but the thing is, we were sittin’ at the same table opposite each other, and he coulda just asked to see my sketchbook and I’da given it to him! But he just walked over and sat next to me instead.
“And at the end we weren’t sayin’ anything to each other, and he was lookin’ at my lips and I don’t know what to think!” Atsumu was pulling on his hair at that point.
“He was looking at your lips?” Sunarin asked incredulously, sitting up from Osamu’s lap. There was something else in his tone that Atsumu couldn’t understand.
“Yeah! Like he stared at them for a second then looked away before goin’ back to the other side of the table like it was nothin’! I swear to god I coulda died there and you guys wouldn’t have known for a week,” Atsumu said, disbelief in his voice.
Osamu and Sunarin shared a look, then they both turned back to Atsumu with a classic stare that said “Atsumu, you’re a dumbass”.
“What? What don’t I get now?” Atsumu huffed, and Osamu rolled his eyes.
“Tsumu, I think it’s pretty obvious.”
“Well it ain’t that obvious if I don’t understand!” Atsumu yelled, and Sunarin piped in to make things worse.
“Atsumu, don’t you think the reason Sakusa-kun chose to sit next to you even though he didn’t have to, and him looking at your lips without saying anything - combined with a lot of other behaviors he’s been exhibiting towards you that you’ve mentioned in the past - is that he likes you?” Sunarin threw out the impossibility, and Atsumu stopped.
“There’s no way he has a crush on me! He’s mean to me, insults me, and sometimes when I ask him somethin’, he just stares at me and doesn’t say anythin’, and then he looks away! Like what the fuck?” Atsumu gestures, finding irrefutable evidence for his argument.
But he knew only the first two items were mostly applicable to when he and Sakusa had first started talking to each other.
“Probably cause ya said something stupid,” Osamu deadpans, and Sunarin nods his head in agreement.
“Oh fuck off Samu! But like I said, there’s no way he has a crush on me.”
“Oh geez, I think yer denser than I was when I had a crush on Rin and thought he didn’t like me back,” Osamu admits, and Atsumu gapes in shock and embarrassment. The thought of being worse than Osamu’s most arguably dumbest moment in his life was horrifying.
Sunarin chuckled. “I still remember when I held your hand and you thought I just needed warmth from the cold weather,” he said with a devilish grin, and Osamu blushed. Atsumu cackled, temporarily forgetting Osamu’s insult to bask in his twin’s suffering. This was definitely going to bite him in the ass later.
“It was a plausible reason,” Osamu bit back weakly.
“Was it also a plausible reason when I kissed you on the cheek before school, and you thought I was just practicing kissing people on the cheek in greeting in case I go to Europe in the future? Even though I had never mentioned an idea like that before?” Sunarin retorted, and Atsumu howled in laughter at Osamu’s harshly reddened face.
“Shut up Tsumu! Don’t think we forgot about yer fat crush on Sakusa-kun and you bein’ an idiot about it!” Osamu rerouted the conversation back to him, and Atsumu did stop his laughter at that. Before he said anything, Osamu beat him to it.
“Just think about it! I know that’ll be hard for you-” Atsumu yelled a “hey!” at the dig, “but think about the times Sakusa-kun coulda shown that he liked ya back.”
Atsumu scoffed, but he did as Osamu suggested.
As the two of them became closer friends over the past semester, there had been subtle changes in Sakusa’s behavior.
He didn’t look at him weirdly anymore whenever Atsumu greeted him after he walked into the studio, instead nodding or saying hello back. He would respond and joke back at Atsumu instead of leaving the conversations one-sided or very short. He accepted Atsumu’s compliments towards his artwork and his appearance easier now, even if it was also with a certain awkwardness.
As they became closer, Sakusa was also less hesitant in accepting Atsumu’s invitations to hang out.
Whether it was for mundane things like buying groceries, picking up coffee, or even checking out stuff at an art store (but never really buying shit except for one or two items because it was so expensive), Sakusa would join him.
No matter how boring it was like studying for classes, or just working in silence on art assignments, Sakusa was by his side. Even if they were outside in sunny weather when he had on all black attire - with the addition of his black curls as well - that sucked up all the sun rays.
And looking even further, Atsumu could remember Sakusa enjoying being with Atsumu—in his own Sakusa way. He didn’t turn away from the conversations much anymore, and he always kept Atsumu on his feet with his responses.
Sakusa’s reserved exterior and his bluntness didn’t change much, but past that Atsumu could see all the other little developments Sakusa had made towards him.
Atsumu also realized that Sakusa would be physically closer to him a lot more than when they first started talking, even if it wasn’t by much. He’d also look at him for longer than usual.
And like today, he sat closer to Atsumu, and looked at him for what seemed like a lifetime. He looked at Atsumu’s lips…
Oh.
Oh.
He wasn’t entirely sure if it was the truth, maybe Sakusa was just being a good best friend, but if one thing was for certain-
Atsumu was, plainly put, absolutely fucked.
——
Other than Atsumu pining even harder after Sakusa, Sakusa staring at Atsumu with a certain glint in his eyes more than usual, and the more frequent trips to the café because of a major art project kicking their asses, not much had changed between the two of them.
Just because Sakusa looked at his lips for five seconds, along with all the other changes in his behavior directed towards him, didn’t mean he did have a crush on Atsumu. Yep. Totally.
And even if Sakusa did trust Atsumu enough to share his sexuality with him didn’t mean he had a crush on him either. Close friends could tell each other stuff like that, too.
Then again, the ‘coming out’ to each other that they were both asexual wouldn’t have changed much anyway. It was just who they were.
Atsumu smiled fondly at that when Sakusa wasn't looking, holding the fact close to his heart that he had someone who was like him. Someone who understood the feeling just as well.
Oh geez, he was getting sappy.
But no, Sakusa couldn’t possibly have a crush on him.
The sound of Yachi calling out his name for his and Sakusa’s drinks broke him from his racing thoughts, and he walked up to the counter to retrieve them.
“Thanks again Hitoka-chan, and tell yer girlfriend I hope she feels better,” he said with a smile, and Yachi smiled gratefully back.
“You’re welcome, Atsumu-san! And I will, thank you so much. Have a good day and good luck with your assignments!” she encouraged, and Atsumu saluted her.
He walked back over to the entrance where Sakusa was, and they were out the door in stride.
While walking along the concrete paths - with a certain slowness to finish their drinks before they got to the art studio - Atsumu was hit with a very strong sense of laziness mixed with tiredness. Mostly laziness.
“Omi, would ya be mad if I said we should just skip workin’ on the project today?” Atsumu asked warily, taking a sip of his macchiato. With the mask lowered to drink he could see Sakusa’s mouth twitch with a familiar annoyance, and his eyes rolled before casting a look at Atsumu.
“Really Miya? We only have a week left to finish this project, and on a day we have all the time in the world to work on it, you want to just skip it?” Sakusa was giving him a look that was somewhat reminiscent of the look Osamu and Sunarin had given him that day. A look that screamed “are you a dumbass or is it just you?”
The reminder of that day and the revelations it brought made Atsumu blush.
“Yeah—but it’s a Saturday! We deserve a short break!” he pathetically rebutted, and Sakusa’s face just dropped into a completely blank, but also incredulous expression, his piercings glimmering in the sun.
“You’ll get that break when finals are over, not when - let me repeat - there are seven days before the deadline for this project. And like I said, it’s a day where we have more time than we’re given to work.” Sakusa rationalized, and he took a drink from his coffee again.
But Atsumu just stood his ground, and he was nothing if not stubborn.
“How ‘bout this, Omi-kun? I’ll rock-paper-scissors ya for it. Best of three! If you win, we go back to the art studio and work on the project till our hands cramp up since that’s yer idea of workin’-”
“That’s over exaggerating-”
“And if I win, I decide what we can do for a couple hours of a well deserved break! Also Omi, I’m not over exaggerating; I’ve seen ya working on some assignments well after class ended. Yer face is all like-” Atsumu tried to make his best concentrated Sakusa face, but said person cut him off with a scoff.
“That’s not what I look like.”
“You should use that pocket mirror ya have and check for yourself.”
“You should get one as well to check that massive pimple on your chin,” Sakusa replied seriously, and Atsumu gasped, instantly rubbing his finger over his chin to see where exactly the pimple was-
Sakusa snorted, and Atsumu wanted to push him into the dirt.
Sakusa sighed. “Fine, I’ll agree to this proposition since nothing else will work unless I physically drag you to the art studio.”
“Hell yeah Omi!” Atsumu fist pumped the air, and Sakusa rolled his eyes. They put their drinks on the concrete to ready their hands, albeit Sakusa did so with a bit of reluctance.
Atsumu recited “rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” as they thumped their fists against their open palms three times, and then revealed their moves.
Atsumu grumbled as he saw Sakusa’s clenched hand in a fist to his scissors. Sakusa just said nothing, his natural poker face in play, but Atsumu thought he could see a faint hint of smugness.
It was Sakusa this time who scrunched up his face in a tiny grimace, and Atsumu would have let out a “ha!” at seeing Sakusa’s paper to his resolute scissors, but this was a life or death situation. He couldn’t jinx it.
Sakusa muttered “I should’ve known” and Atsumu’s heart fluttered.
The 3rd round would determine it all, and the sun above them aided in a drip of sweat coming down Atsumu’s temple. With their bated breaths releasing into the air, Atsumu said “rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” and they made their final moves.
“Fuck yeah!” Atsumu yelled, and Sakusa groaned in defeat, staring angrily down at Atsumu’s victorious paper move in contrast to his fisted rock move.
“Ya fell for it Omi! Thought I was gonna do scissors again, huh? Classic,” Atsumu taunted, an idea of what to do for winning the deal already in his mind.
“Maybe I did,” Sakusa grumbled, picking up his coffee and taking a long, bitter sip. Atsumu did the same, smirking around the straw. “It would be like you to do something like this, though.”
“Well now we get to do what I want!” Atsumu exclaimed, and Sakusa mumbled a quick prayer.
“Alright Miya, what’s your marvelous idea of a break?” Sakusa sighed out and started aimlessly walking, Atsumu following along with a spring in his step.
Atsumu’s smug attitude vanished like a snuffed out candle, and his heart lit a flame in its place at the question. Sakusa was giving an expectant look, and Atsumu opened his mouth.
“I was thinkin’ we could do some jewelry together,” he suggested with an uncharacteristic awkwardness, reserved just for when Sakusa made his heart act fucking annoyingly. “Preferably at yer place because you have the tools. And beads. Yeah.”
Sakusa stared at him in slight surprise, and his pale face was no match for the sun’s rays as they revealed a reddening blush. Or maybe he was getting a sunburn.
“Sure. That’s fine. This is better than if you suggested we steal a police car and one of us starts strip dancing through the sunroof while we’re going ninety miles per hour on the highway.” Sakusa deadpanned in one breath, a sigh of relief making its way afterwards like he actually believed Atsumu would do that.
Maybe if he was drunk.
Atsumu laughed at the idea. “Nah, not today Omi. Besides, that requires too much effort,” he drawled, the laziness creeping into his veins again. Sakusa just watched him distrustingly.
“Mhm. Alright, let’s go, and if you spill any of the beads from my containers onto the floor you’re banned from my dorm room,” Sakusa threatened, and Atsumu would have chuckled menacingly if it weren’t for the absolute lack of sarcasm from Sakusa’s face and tone.
“Roger that Omi!” Atsumu saluted with a slight shudder, and took the remaining sip from his coffee cup.
They found a trash can to throw their empty cups in, and Sakusa led the way to his dorm.
——
The meticulousness of Sakusa’s room was the same as Atsumu walked in, and he paled at the idea of Sakusa seeing his room. His messiness was one of the reasons he avoided the suggestion of hanging out in his dorm. Atsumu could perfectly picture Sakusa’s face of disgust like it was right in front of him.
But maybe he should make more of an effort to clean it, if not for him then to make Sakusa comfortable so he could finally visit.
Sakusa went over to his desk to lay out the beads and tools needed, then turned to Atsumu.
“I’m going to steal my roommate’s chair—be right back. Don’t touch or break shit; I know that’ll be difficult for you,” Sakusa warned before leaving with a bottle of disinfectant spray.
Atsumu just stuck his tongue out childishly. The Osamu familiarity within Sakusa was annoyingly scary sometimes.
The assortment of beads Sakusa had was vast and colorful; some beads looked like diamonds while others looked like cubes. They came in so many different styles it seemed like Sakusa had bought out the entire bead section of the art store they typically perused.
Some of the colors didn’t seem like ones Sakusa would wear though, but then again there was still more to him Atsumu didn’t know about. He still didn’t know the guy’s favorite colors.
Sakusa came back with a chair and a victorious glint in his eyes. They both sat down at Sakusa’s desk, and before he could explain what to do, Atsumu spoke.
“Do ya have an Etsy shop or somethin? Also what’s yer favorite color?” Atsumu wondered, and Sakusa gave him a somewhat quizzical stare.
“I wish, but no. No time to manage one. I’d have to say green or blue, why?” Sakusa replied.
“I was just lookin’ through yer bead collection, and it doesn’t seem like you would use some of these beads for yerself,” Atsumu answered honestly, and Sakusa’s eyebrows raised in acknowledgement.
“You would be right about that. Some of my close classmates- mostly Motoya, though - ask me to make them jewelry, so I just buy some beads that fit best to what they want.”
“Oh that’s cool Omi! And kinda expensive. Do ya make them pay ya?” The question came before Atsumu thought about it.
“Duh, who wouldn’t?” Sakusa replied like it was obvious you made your friends pay you after you created something for them. Atsumu grinned at that; he was the exact same way.
He was a broke college student, and he needed the money, sue him. So the next best thing to do instead of getting a job: make his friends with jobs pay him, and make his friends without jobs pay him too (he was lenient with his friends without jobs, though).
If one of his friends asked him to make something for them, no matter how close they were, Atsumu would always charge money. And since he was a twin, of course the same would happen with Osamu in terms of food. Well, only if he was in a shitty mood.
“Wise decision. But green and blue? Wasn’t expectin’ that from you Omi-kun,” Atsumu said with some surprise, having expected him to say purple or something.
“Yeah, and I wasn’t expecting you to want to make jewelry with me,” he threw back. Atsumu couldn’t argue with that, his heart picking up the pace again.
Atsumu could have lied and said he was paying the absolute most attention to Sakusa teaching him how to make a good loop in the head pin with the pliers, or how to properly make a necklace clasp, but he wasn’t. He really wasn’t.
Being this close to Sakusa again was resurfacing the memory of that day, and all the reasons Sakusa was too distracting for his own good.
The afternoon sunlight filtering through Sakusa’s sheer curtains made a soft outline around his face and curls, and Atsumu could make out the frizziness from the day even clearer in that moment.
Some of his piercings reflected the light, and they looked like the stars Atsumu would sometimes pretend to touch back in Hyogo. Only this time Atsumu was so close it was like he was looking through a telescope, fully appreciating their glowing beauty.
Sakusa looked at peace as he concentrated on finding a specific aesthetic for a new necklace, different from the stressed and scary face he would make when working on a time-limited drawing.
Without the makeup, Atsumu could see faint acne scars and a recent splattering of acne on his otherwise smooth cheeks.
A familiar longing entered his veins.
If he could just reach his arm out, finally caress the face that has scowled, judged, and smiled at him. Maybe feel the piercings that made Sakusa him, feel the lip ring Atsumu had seen Sakusa get because he was curious to how the process worked.
Maybe run his fingers through the curls that looked so soft, finally feeling if they were what he dreamed of. Touch the twin moles he often stared at in idle conversation.
If he could just reach for that face, lean in closer, and finally kiss Sakusa-
“Miya? Are you ok? You look dumber than usual,” Sakusa’s smooth yet concerned voice shook him out of his Sakusa-filled imagination.
“I..” Atsumu hesitated, looking all around the room in anxiousness before finally settling on Sakusa’s dark eyes.
Those eyes waited as Atsumu went deep into thought, a feeling of déjà vu overtaking him.
Maybe Atsumu should just do it. He should just go after what he’s been wanting for a couple months now. Go after and take the feeling he gets when he’s near Sakusa by the reins.
And if Sakusa hates him afterwards and never wants to be near him again, Atsumu would understand. Even if he’d lose a friend, he would do nothing but respect his wishes.
Just knowing he chased the feeling in stride would be enough.
And if Sakusa did in fact like Atsumu back as Osamu and Sunarin had suggested, then at least Atsumu would spare himself a week of constant crying from getting rejected. (He did say he would respect Sakusa’s wishes, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.)
“Miya?” Sakusa inched a little closer, inspecting Atsumu’s face to check if he was sick or being stupid.
Maybe Atsumu was stupid.
Apprehension was in his bones, but after a moment, he finally moved.
Atsumu reached his hand out, and barely touched the face of his crush, an insurmountable amount of lightness in his fingertips. Sakusa flinched a bit, and Atsumu was ready to retract his hand. However, Sakusa didn’t pry his fingers away or shout at him after a couple seconds.
He only looked from Atsumu’s hand to his face, waiting.
Atsumu could feel the splatter of acne as his hand lowered down to officially rest on Sakusa’s cheek, and feeling braver or stupider than ever, he reached his left hand out and did the same to Sakusa’s other cheek.
Even though Atsumu’s heart was pounding in his ears, his senses worked better than ever as he saw the reddening blush high across Sakusa’s face, and he could feel the warmth from it radiating beneath his palms.
It was quiet, Atsumu doing nothing but looking into Sakusa’s eyes, trying to find a semblance of any discomfort towards the situation. There was none, only his certain glint that Atsumu would barely catch before it always went away. It stayed this time.
Atsumu leaned in only a fraction, wishing in that moment he could paint every little detail about Sakusa and hold it tight to his chest at night. But not he, or the greats, could ever replicate the beautiful and elusive intricacies of Sakusa Kiyoomi.
“Omi,” he asked with a delicacy and fondness reserved just for this moment.
“Yes?” Sakusa replied quietly, something resembling stars in the vast blackness of his eyes.
“Can I kiss you?”
Nothing for a second, but Atsumu was so focused and close to Sakusa he could see the small nod, and that was all Atsumu needed.
Atsumu leaned in bit by bit, and closed his eyes as his lips finally rested on Sakusa’s.
There weren’t fireworks, sparks, or any other ignition described in movies that Atsumu felt. All he could feel were the butterflies finally breaking from their cocoons and testing out their wings, fluttering them against Atsumu’s stomach. They flew around him slowly, and then rose and rose and rose as they filled his entire being with that awaited giddiness.
He was kissing Sakusa Kiyoomi.
Not daydreaming after him in class, not experiencing a blurry dream of kissing him, no.
He was kissing Sakusa Kiyoomi in real life. And oh god did he not want it to end.
The kiss wasn’t really much of a kiss at first, only Atsumu’s lips resting ever so softly on Sakusa’s mouth, hesitant to try anything more with his eyes squeezed shut in trepidation.
But then Atsumu could feel Sakusa physically relax as he slowly responded back. Atsumu’s heart soared, and in that moment he wanted Sakusa to hear its fast rhythm; he wanted Sakusa to know this was his doing, and that Atsumu’s love had long since overflowed for him.
Sakusa tilted his head a bit into the kiss, and Atsumu felt it as he continued to cup Sakusa’s warmed face. He could feel the cold of his lip ring, and Atsumu smiled a bit.
Nothing heated up, they didn’t wish for the other to go faster, and they didn’t expect anything more.
It was a mutual understanding only they knew, and the acceptance of it made both their hearts beat in ever growing adoration.
They kissed slowly and sweetly for however long, Atsumu didn’t check or care, the thought of the art project long gone from now both their minds. The sun shone down on them in the quiet room, and Atsumu didn’t want to leave as he rubbed a thumb over Sakusa’s acne scars.
The disconnection was inevitable, but it was dragged out as the two lingered close to each other’s faces, their breathing being the only sound to bring them down to Earth.
Atsumu could do nothing else but look at Sakusa, gauging for any negative reaction at all from their kiss. But Sakusa only looked just as intently at Atsumu, the flush still deep on his cheeks.
Atsumu broke the silence with a nervous and abrupt laugh. “I-wow um-Omi I-oh god words please,” he groaned annoyingly, and Sakusa snorted.
“You’re so eloquent, Atsumu,” Sakusa said sarcastically, and the sound of his given name made Atsumu look at Sakusa with a shocked stare.
Atsumu had metaphorical hearts in his eyes as Sakusa seemed to realize what he said, his cheeks heating up even more beneath Atsumu’s (still) caressing hands.
“Please keep calling me that, Omi,” Atsumu breathed out softly, his gaze not letting up as he was entranced by Sakusa.
Sakusa leaned into his touch, and with a gentleness so new to Atsumu, kissed the inside of his left palm. The butterflies flew their rampant course around Atsumu’s body, and he welcomed it in full.
“Alright, Atsumu,” Sakusa murmured, “but only if you call me Kiyoomi, too.”
Atsumu’s cheeks flared up at the prospect, and he grinned.
“Hmm, ‘Omi’ will be hard to let go though,” Atsumu replied, and Sakusa-Kiyoomi rolled his eyes wholeheartedly, “so I think I’m gonna let it coexist with ‘Kiyoomi’ instead.”
Atsumu smiled, and Kiyoomi just looked at him with that certain glint, but now Atsumu knew what it was.
Fondness.
And Atsumu’s heart was filled with it as he and Kiyoomi leaned in to meet in the middle, their kiss as soft and languid as the brushstrokes against a new, blank canvas.
——
“I can’t believe Samu and Sunarin were right.”
“What?” Kiyoomi muttered, looking up from working on the same necklace. It looked like he was making one for a friend.
They went back to jewelry making after just kissing and kissing and basking in each other’s company with nothing in between them. It was a time of testing and enjoying a new development in their relationship, and Atsumu wished it had lasted longer.
Kiyoomi had wanted to continue where they left off though, and Atsumu didn’t mind—ok maybe he minded a tiny bit since he still wanted to kiss Kiyoomi, but he’ll only say that to the man himself when he’s feeling extra sentimental one day.
Their chairs had moved a little closer this time around.
“Ya remember that day we were lookin’ at my sketchbook and ya sat pretty close to me, then ya looked at my lips?” Atsumu recounted with a blush, and Kiyoomi rivaled him with one too.
“Yeah,” he murmured.
“Well I basically got emotionally distressed over that and had to call my ugly twin for help—which never woulda happened except the situation was too serious to ignore,” Atsumu confessed, and Kiyoomi looked amused.
Of course, Atsumu was lying about not contacting Osamu otherwise; he really was the only person he could go to and rely on with things like that. Osamu may have been dense about his own love life, but he was surprisingly good with everyone else’s.
He wasn’t lying about the ugly twin part, though.
“And after talkin’, him and Sunarin concluded that you mighta liked me back. Turns out they were right,” Atsumu said, half groaning at what that statement would entail, and half giddy because they were right.
“Judging from your tone, I think those two will be happy to hear that,” Kiyoomi replied sarcastically, but he smiled softly at what the sentence meant, too.
“They sure will be,” Atsumu shuddered, the thought of Osamu constantly hanging this over his head for the rest of his life was going to be awful. But he has dealt with worse.
They were both quiet for a moment, and Atsumu was the one to break it.
“Omi, how long have ya liked me?” he asked with an air of shyness.
Kiyoomi looked at him with the same stars in his eyes, and it seemed like he was recalling a fond memory.
“Since the second semester of our first year,” he finally said. “It was at one of the art shows; the one where our class’ works were showcased.”
Atsumu’s heart stuttered. Over a year had Kiyoomi liked him, and Atsumu had only realized his feelings a couple months ago.
“I was just walking around, and seeing everyone’s finished pieces made me feel proud. Even if I didn’t really talk to a lot of them,” Kiyoomi recounted with a small smile. “Then I saw one of yours. It was one of your bigger acrylic paintings, and the way the spotlights shone down on it just made me stop and look for longer.
“The way the colors flowed together - the fact that it was an arbitrary style painting fits you well now that I look back - the way it was so messy but carefully detailed as well, and the addition of random textures that didn’t seem like they belonged there but you made them work. It was beautiful.
“I was just so enraptured by how it looked; I had to check the name to see if it was actually yours. I knew I was there in the studio with you to see it develop, but actually seeing it finished was something else entirely.”
Atsumu just listened attentively, his heart quickening at the way Kiyoomi spoke about his painting.
He remembered the piece Kiyoomi was talking about, and hearing the one person’s opinion he cared about more than anything praising his artwork made Atsumu feel incredible, indescribable things.
“Your piece looked so unabashedly you, and somehow I knew that even though I didn’t know you that well. It was obvious you spent so much time on it; I think I just stood there for five or so minutes, admiring everything about the painting.
“And I think that was the moment I started to like you,” Kiyoomi finished fondly.
The butterflies in Atsumu’s body fluttered in adoration, and he wished he could paint an accurate depiction of how he felt for Kiyoomi, but he knew that it would be impossible. No amount of paint and dedication could ever replicate the love he held in his soul for Kiyoomi.
“Omi, ya never fail to make me fall harder for ya,” Atsumu softy said, ever present hearts in his eyes to Kiyoomi’s stars.
Kiyoomi laughed, and Atsumu savored the sound to his growing memories of the fellow artist.
“Yer story is so sweet and poem-like, and mine is kinda embarrassing,” Atsumu admitted, but Kiyoomi gestured for him to continue, a curious look in his eyes.
“I’ve liked ya since the time I accidentally spilled coffee over myself, and ya just laughed at me. But it was the first time I heard ya really, genuinely laugh,” Atsumu confessed, half flustered but still smiling happily as the memory of Kiyoomi’s laugh that day replayed in his head.
Sure, spilling coffee on himself wasn’t fun, but he wouldn’t have changed it if it meant he wouldn’t have heard Kiyoomi’s laugh.
Kiyoomi smiled softly before snickering at his words. “Technically, I was allowed to laugh because it wasn’t hot coffee and it wouldn’t have hurt you,” he reasoned.
Atsumu huffed. “My coffee was still wasted, though!”
“Yeah, but the face you made was hilarious.”
“If you spill coffee on yourself don’t expect me to help, Omi!”
“I have a feeling you’re lying about that,” Kiyoomi correctly assumed, and Atsumu rolled his eyes. “And you’re right, your story was mildly embarrassing. For you, at least.”
“Oh shut up Omi!”
A patient silence returned for a while, but this time it was broken by Kiyoomi.
“Well, what are we?” he asked quietly.
“Hm?” was Atsumu’s dignified response.
“What do you want to call us?”
Atsumu blushed at the implied meaning, and he was scared Kiyoomi would hear the loud fluttering of wings in his stomach.
He pretended to think for a moment. “That’s tough, Omi. Classmates? Friends? Best friends?” Atsumu asks annoyingly, and Kiyoomi groans.
“They all sound pretty good, but I think ‘boyfriends’ sounds even better. And I think we’ve both waited long enough,” Atsumu proclaimed, looking at Kiyoomi like nothing else existed.
“I think that’s your best idea yet,” Kiyoomi replies just as softly, and Atsumu can’t stop his hand from reaching into frizzy curls as he leans in to kiss Kiyoomi.
The repeating thought of “Kiyoomi is my boyfriend” runs all around Atsumu’s head in happiness, and he smiles into the kiss. He can feel Kiyoomi let out a short laugh.
Kiyoomi is his boyfriend, and nothing else could ever rain on his parade.
They spend the rest of their time together in comfortable silence after they part, once again going back to jewelry making.
Atsumu managed to make a pair of earrings for himself, but only after having to hear Kiyoomi explain how to make a loop with the pliers again.
(“What do you mean you weren’t paying attention?” he had asked, and Atsumu only replied with, “I was distracted by how beautiful you are Omi!”)
After admiring his work in the handheld mirror on Kiyoomi’s desk, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Kiyoomi pick up the now finished necklace from earlier. Atsumu’s chest warmed. He didn’t say anything, but Atsumu understood.
He turned around in his seat and felt Kiyoomi move closer as arms and a slight coldness went around his neck. He heard the click of the clasp, and turned back around to look in the mirror.
It was an assortment of different beads in shades of yellow and pink, some of them diamond shaped while others were so small Atsumu would never find them if they fell on the floor. There was a charm in the middle.
“A fox!” Atsumu exclaimed in excitement, his fingertips gently touching the gold charm. He looked back to Kiyoomi, and in a second of consideration, leaned in to sweetly kiss his cheek. The blush was an everlasting mark on both their faces.
“Omi, this looks so pretty! I like the colors, and the fox of course,” Atsumu complimented, and Kiyoomi smirked knowingly.
“Seemed fitting for someone as lazy and cunning as you,” he teased, and Atsumu flipped him off.
“Wait, are you gonna charge me for this?” Atsumu asked genuinely.
Kiyoomi’s face straightened out. “Yes. That’ll be 2500 yen and I expect to be paid right now,” he said humorlessly.
Atsumu blanched in panic, sputtering out a “Huh?!” before being cut off by the soft and swift press of Kiyoomi’s lips on his. All thoughts vanished as he sunk into the kiss, his hands instantly finding their place on Kiyoomi’s cheeks.
It lasted for only a moment before Kiyoomi pulled away slowly, and Atsumu thought he could see the stars being replaced by the same metaphorical hearts he had.
“Kidding,” Kiyoomi shortly said, and Atsumu smiled so hard it physically ached, but he didn’t care.
“The necklace was going to be a subtle appreciation gift from me since I was still too scared to confess. I was also going to give that to you the week before finals.
“I was going to play it off as a ‘here’s something you can have your fingers play with’ gift, or a ‘here’s something you can add to that horrible wardrobe of yours’ gift,” Kiyoomi admitted. “Didn’t want you to catch on, but looks like that didn’t end up happening.”
He smiled fondly once again.
Atsumu could hear a romantic love song in his head as he smiled so hard at Kiyoomi, and he prayed he wouldn't cry right then and there.
But Atsumu’s heart loved being emotional, and he let the happy tears fall.
Kiyoomi immediately reached out to touch his face, a concerned expression taking over.
“Atsumu? What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?” Kiyoomi asked worriedly and frantically, but Atsumu could only laugh as the tears ran down his cheeks.
“No Kiyoomi-I just-” he paused as he sniffled, “I just like ya so much.”
Kiyoomi paused, and then he smiled slightly.
“I like you a lot, too.”
A combination of hearts and stars filled both their eyes.
Sakusa Kiyoomi liked him back, and in the meticulousness of Kiyoomi’s room with his jewelry supplies, his collection of organized outfits, and the longing feeling being caught and cherished on both ends, Atsumu couldn’t ask for anything more.
——
The next day at the art studio entailed six cups of coffee for the two men, harnessing the speed of a cheetah, and configuring all the focus they needed to work on their project.
But that didn’t mean lunch was ignored.
“Samu, I swear to god if ya don’t bring the food in the next hour I will personally become a homewrecker ‘n ruin you and Sunarin’s eventual marriage and take him all for myself while I laugh at you. Ya owe me from last time,” Atsumu threatened, a blurry truth underneath his words in his delirium. The hunger was recruiting annoyance and barely concealed anger.
“Thanks for telling me yer plans. I’ll make sure not to invite you to the wedding and move where ya won’t find us,” Osamu replied stoically, his tone casual as he was already used to Atsumu’s “slowly going insane over major art projects and if I don’t have food this next moment I will break the law” mood.
“Don’t underestimate my detective skills Samu,” Atsumu warned, and he could see Osamu’s rolling eyes.
“Yeah yeah, love you too Tsumu. Say hi to your boyfriend for me and Rin in the meantime!” his twin said gloatingly, the call ending halfway through Atsumu’s half shouted “Oh fuck off Samu”!
Atsumu could see Kiyoomi silently laughing in his peripheral vision.
“Don’t make me dump paint on your head, Omi,” Atsumu said menacingly.
“It’d be a loss for you though since you like my curls so much,” Kiyoomi rebuked, and Atsumu flushed.
After finishing up with jewelry yesterday, he and Kiyoomi just talked while laying on his bed, and Atsumu may have taken the liberties of running his fingers through Kiyoomi’s hair idly.
Atsumu grumbled and he knew Kiyoomi was smirking proudly beneath the mask, but then he looked around the room with a glare, before turning back to Atsumu steadfastly.
His vision was shrouded suddenly as Kiyoomi pulled down his mask, walked the short distance, and leaned in to plant a quick yet fulfilling kiss on his mouth. Atsumu smiled into the kiss happily, the hunger forgotten momentarily as he gazed up at Kiyoomi’s black-lined eyes afterwards.
Kiyoomi smiled softly before pulling up his mask and returning back to his canvas, and Atsumu didn’t look away once as he listened to the sound of boots walk away.
Atsumu’s painting was forgotten as he covered his face in his hands, the warmth from his cheeks being shielded from the classroom air. He stared into the blackness with a lovestricken smile.
Removing his hands from his face, he pulled at the necklace he wore and looked down at it, some of the beads glowing from the overhead sun.
Atsumu focused on the fox charm in particular, and in its movement did it shimmer particularly bright from the sun, making it seem like an actual treasure Kiyoomi retrieved from the bottom of the sea instead of a charm.
Geez he was sappy, but he didn’t give a fuck.
He liked Kiyoomi so much, and if Atsumu thought about it, if it weren’t for his genius idea of a break, he probably wouldn’t have had the courage to confess for a long awhile. Even with what Osamu and Sunarin had said in mind.
So yeah, they did deserve a break once in a while.
Atsumu looked over to where Kiyoomi was.
He was wearing bead earrings today, Atsumu had noticed, and they had the colors of the ace flag.