Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Atsumu first met Sakusa Kiyoomi at the young age of sixteen. At the time, he’d thought he was old, mature, practically an adult; however, in actuality, he was very much none of those things. He can admit now that he was just an angry, rude, stubborn child with almost no care for anyone outside of his own family.

He had been bragging to his teammates for weeks, laughing and non-stop talking about how he was going to the Japan National Youth Camp, how he was going further than them, than Osamu. He was so proud of himself, ecstatic that he was getting such an amazing opportunity, but being himself, he didn’t know how else to express those feelings other than acting so overly confident that everyone around him wanted him to shove a volleyball down his throat.

In reality, the train ride to Tokyo had been pretty terrifying even with Aran by his side. He'd never really been apart from Osamu or Mama, never done much alone without one of them being there, other than going out on walks with their new dog, Adzuki. He didn’t know how to play volleyball without his brother, didn’t know how to talk to others without one of them beside him – he supposed that was another bonus of Aran being there, other than that he was just happy to have his friend by his side – and he barely knew how to sleep without him in the same room. He’d never been separated from Osamu. Even if he wasn’t alone in this, even if Aran was there, it still felt wrong. He still felt lonely.

So, obviously, to combat the feelings that were festering in his gut, Atsumu was overly loud once he arrived at the training camp in Tokyo. He spoke to everyone, dragging Aran around to meet people, covering his attempt at making friends and blocking out the nerves by stating that he was simply sizing up the enemy. People didn’t seem to like talking to him much though, he realised after the first day, so he went back to just staying around Aran.

Sakusa Kiyoomi had shown up shortly after them on the first day, wearing a mask and a neon yellow tracksuit, alongside Komori Motoya who instantly had a mischievous look in his eyes. The whole day he frowned, seemingly out of his element despite being a monster on the court, and the one time that Atsumu attempted to approach him after being shunned by the majority of people at the camp, he had just glared and walked away, muttering under his breath about how he was too loud and seemed rude. In response he shouted, ‘says you!’ and it was right then and there that he decided he didn’t like the guy, because he’d not even said a word to him yet, not even introduced himself, and he was already being insulted. He didn’t bother going anywhere near him for the rest of the camp, other than when he was ‘accidentally’ complaining too loudly about him, or when they were made to play on the same team; Aran kept saying it sucked that they played so well together. Atsumu just wanted to go back home, somewhere that Sakusa could never touch, and somewhere the people at least somewhat liked him.

They met again at the national tournament, Atsumu now showing off gold – no, it wasn’t piss-coloured, Sunarin – hair, and standing by Osamu’s side. He felt more confident like this, surrounded by his teammates who at least liked him more than his middle-school team had. It was also nice that he was finally recognisable to everyone, or at least those who paid enough attention to remember the difference in the twins’ hair colours.

Standing in the main lobby, Sakusa walked past him, and deciding that he would try to provoke him – because why not? He was bored – Atsumu grabbed him by the shoulder; when he flinched and his eyes went too wide, he inwardly swore to never touch him again.

“Sorry, Sakkun, just wanted to get your attention,” he said, hands shoved into his pockets to hopefully put the other at ease. For whatever reason unbeknownst to Atsumu, it was clear that he didn’t want to be touched. Very clear, by the way he was eyeing his pocketed hands.

The other boy didn’t say anything though, just stared at him and stood far enough away that Atsumu had to shout to be heard through the noise. “Just wanted to let ya know I’m gonna kick your ass in our game later,” he grinned, pretending like nothing had happened.

Sakusa’s eyes narrowed then, and he took a – small – step forward. “Good luck with that, Miya. I heard you’re on close watch; they’ll probably switch you out before the first set’s even complete.”

Offended, he bit back, wishing he hadn’t talked to him. “They’ll probably switch you out cuz of your shitty attitude, prick!”

He rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, looking completely disinterested in him and this interaction. “Says you.” He walked away before Atsumu could even respond. Maybe he wouldn’t have even known how to though, if he’d been given the chance. All he could focus on was how people knew that he was on close watch. Did they know why? Did they all know he was constantly getting into fights at school? Was that why no one wanted to be around him?

Later, even though he and Osamu got their team almost a full set all in all, even though Atsumu managed to stay on the court for the majority of the game, Itachiyama beat them. He looked Sakusa in the eyes from across the net and promised him that he would win next year, and that he would be on the court for the entirety of the match.

At seventeen, they met once again at the Youth Camp. Atsumu was alone this time, and while he wanted to say it wasn’t so bad since he knew the majority of the people there, he was still nervous the entire time. He would hesitate to say that he was excited to see Sakusa if someone asked, but… well, it would be a lie if he said otherwise: he liked playing with him, even if he hated his personality.

They didn’t speak much on the first day other than a few teasing comments here and there, what with Atsumu being intrigued by the new first year that had shown up from Karasuno: Kageyama Tobio. He was quiet and confusing and not quite how he had imagined him after hearing the rumours and nicknames. He didn’t really seem like much of a king: he seemed like a goody two-shoes. Kageyama didn’t seem to like it when he later told him so on their last day, despite him not really meaning it as an insult. This whole thing was a lot harder when he didn’t have Aran around to keep him in check.

On the second day of the camp, Sakusa finally approached Atsumu when he was sat across from Hoshiumi at the breakfast table, laughing at what he was saying while simultaneously messaging Osamu about how Mama was doing. He’d grown more into his body, having gotten taller since their last meeting; his first thought was that he looked good.

“Have either of you seen Motoya?” he asked, sounding like he was gritting his teeth while he did so. He wasn’t holding any food, and Atsumu hadn’t seen him eating when he walked in about half an hour ago; he’d just been standing in the corner of the room the whole time. Maybe he was supposed to be eating with his cousin?

“Nope!” Hoshiumi, said, shovelling rice into his mouth. Sakusa grimaced at him.

“I saw him a bit ago, shovin’ something down Korai-kun’s pillow,” he said with a shrug, trying to hold in his laughter when Hoshiumi jumped out of his seat and ran away without a word. Sakusa nodded, stared at him for a weird moment, and then left, and that was it. Later that night, he approached the both of them again, asking if they would “eliminate” a cockroach he had found – in the end, it was Kageyama that managed to get rid of it.

They didn’t really say much else to each other, aside from small comments directed towards each other about the other players at the camp, specifically Kageyama who Sakusa seemed to be annoyed at purely for beating Ushijima, and while they didn’t necessarily have any positive conversations, they didn’t really have any negative ones either. Atsumu took that as a win.

At that year’s nationals, their conversation this time was much different to their previous encounters. They were in the main lobby, scoping out the competition before their match against Kageyama’s team, Karasuno. He couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when Inarizaki would beat them; when Atsumu would beat him. Miya Atsumu, always desperate to prove himself the best, as Nan would put it.

Then he caught sight of Sakusa, crushed up in the corner of the room, staring at the ground with more hatred than usual.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he said, already squeezing past the people that littered the room.

“Don’t start shit with anyone, asshole!” Osamu yelled, but he didn’t stop him despite that being a very likely possibility.

He stopped in front of Sakusa, then bent his body sideways so that he could meet his eyes, since he refused to do so himself. “You alright, Sakkun? Ya look awful.”

“Says you.”

He groaned and rolled his eyes but pushed on. “I’m bein’ serious. You look like you’ve seen a ghost or some shit.”

Sakusa glared at him, as is customary for all their interactions, but then instead of giving some snarky comeback again, he just looked away and muttered something under his breath that he didn’t catch.

“What was that?”

He sighed, somehow bending over himself even more, becoming smaller, willing himself to just disappear. “I lost track of Motoya and Iizuna-san.”

“Oh?”

“They usually help me weave through the crowds, but they disappeared somewhere while I was…” he hesitated, “distracted.” He seemed very put out by having to share this information. This was one of the moments in which Atsumu felt a pang of realisation at how young they really were, despite what he often felt.

“You can’t be on your own or somethin’?” he asked, trying to understand the situation better and only a little confused.

He looked offended at that, but still didn’t move to look at him. “Of course I can, I’m not incompetent, it’s just—” he cut himself off, glaring daggers at his arm. Oh. Maybe it was to do with his whole touch-aversion thing. The look on his face now was similar to the one he gave him when he touched him for the first – and last – time, so it made sense.

“Did someone bump ya?”

Sakusa finally looked up at him then, shock painted on his face. “While I wasn’t paying attention, yeah.”

Atsumu nodded, then looked around himself, searching for neon yellow and green tracksuits. They weren’t hard to find.

“I think that’s them, over there,” he said, pointing to the far side of the room. He sighed, just to make it seem like he wasn’t happy to help, then turned back to him. “You don’t like physical contact, do ya? I’ll help you get over there without anyone touchin’ you. I’m pretty good at getting through a crowd.”

Sakusa didn’t say anything, just nodded, and they made their way across the room, Atsumu guiding him through the cracks between people. He supposed he was one of the best people for the job, honestly, seeing as he was never afraid to tell people to shove it if they got in the way. Like right now.

“Excuse us,” he said to the group of people blocking the path, all seemingly there to cheer on one of the other schools. They ignored him. He repeated himself.

“Miya, maybe we should—”

“GET OUT THE FUCKIN’ WAY!” he yelled, careful not to be too close to their ears, being kind enough to not deafen them. A couple of the boys turned towards him with glares while the others shuffled inwards, giving them room to move past; he stuck up his middle finger at them and kept moving.

“You’re kind of an asshole,” Sakusa said once they were far enough away from the others that they had stopped shooting daggers at the two of them. He shrugged.

“Says you.”

They walked in silence for another few seconds before he started waving his arm in the air. “Oi! Komori!” he shouted, then muttered to someone to let them past as the boy in question turned around from where he was standing with his team to look at him, face brightening when he saw Sakusa behind him, still trying to hide from everyone despite being right out in the open.

Atsumu stood awkwardly by his side as he explained to his cousin and captain why he had gotten lost, Komori looking at him suspiciously when he said he was ‘distracted’. Just as he was about to turn back around and leave for his own team, Sakusa caught his attention.

“Why… did you help?”

Oh. That wasn’t really what he was expecting, if anything. “Well…” he decided then to give him a new nickname, because the other one was too boring, and too many other people called him it, and something in him told himself that this was going to be a shift in their relationship. “I figured if you were stressed out, ya wouldn’t play good in our match later, Omi-kun.”

“Omi-kun?”

“See ya!”

Atsumu in fact did not see him later. Karasuno beat him.

In their third and final year of high school, Osamu told Atsumu that he wouldn’t be playing volleyball anymore – not professionally, at least – and in the midst of their long argument, the former moved into the spare room at home, leaving Atsumu in the room that he’d never before known quiet in.

After nationals, in which Inarizaki almost beat Itachiyama in the finals, Atsumu heard right from the man himself that Sakusa wouldn’t be going straight into the V-Leagues because he had decided to further his education.

Crushed and left behind, Atsumu stood tall and decided that he didn’t need any of them. Then he moved out and cried a lot, lonelier than he’d ever felt in his life. Those first few weeks in Osaka weren’t the best, especially not until he grew close with Bokuto and realised that it was apparently possible for people to like him.

When Sakusa joined Atsumu’s beloved team after graduating university just a few years later, it both excited and worried him; it wasn’t like they had the most stable relationship with each other. After a few months, however, he decided that he was right to be excited, because sure they argue a bit too much, had done so especially during those first few weeks, but… well, once he stopped being petty over those dumb feelings of betrayal from someone he barely even knew, they started to get along better, started to joke and tease. Atsumu could even call them good friends now, he thinks. And while he still constantly misses home, misses Mama and Osamu, Suna and Aran, Kita… Sakusa sure brings an almost familiar, comforting feeling to his life that he never really thought he would find anywhere else than home. It’s secure, and that’s something he doesn’t think he’s truly felt in a long time.

Chapter Text

He’s sitting on the bench now, taking a break from the gruelling practice they’ve been submitted to. It’s getting to be too much, too tiring, especially in this heat – he can barely stay standing at this point – and to top it all off, Sakusa has decided that today is the best day to be a prick. It’s a bit shit, since it’s their last day of practice before their break for summer, and he was actually thinking he might miss him.

“Atsumu! Break’s almost up!” Meian calls from where he’s standing by the open doors with Shoyo, who’s completely unaffected by the heat, thanks to all that time he spent playing volleyball on the beaches of Brazil: he’s just standing there, grinning, jumping up and down like he can’t wait to get back to their 4v4. Atsumu thinks this might be the first time he has felt hatred towards him. He also thinks that it’s completely unfair, because one would think that growing up in Hyogo where it gets real fucking hot in the summers, would have allowed his body to adjust to the heat. Clearly, not enough.

“Alright!” he yells, too tired to question why he’s being singled out when the rest of the team are also sitting around. As much as he loves this team, loves volleyball, he just wants their break to start now, wants to go home and laze around the house playing videogames with Osamu and Suna, taking the dog for walks around town, eating watermelon slices and popsicles and onigiri and— Gods, he misses it.

He stands up with a sigh and makes his way back to the court, glancing over at Bokuto, Sakusa and Inunaki, who are all on his mini team for the match. Shoyo, on the other side of the net, sends him a huge smile which both makes Atsumu hate him more, and remember why it’s impossible to even do such a thing.

“Come on, lighten up, Atsumu,” Inunaki teases when he lets out a groan, but he looks just as put out as he feels.

“I’m going to slap you.”

Inunaki laughs, then gets into position, mumbling something about how Atsumu would be sure to get a longer break if he did do that… which is true, now that he thinks about it. That would be pretty funny.

“Aw, you two, calm down! We just need to make it through the rest of this match, and then we get to go home!” Bokuto says, slapping Atsumu on the back as he walks past, and really, he’s not even mad, because he just finds himself wishing that he could be as positive as his friend.

“Bokkun, I don’t know how ya do it,” he sighs, wiggling his fingers by his sides to ready them for the rest of the game. They don’t even have long left, only a few more points to get, but he really is tired; he barely slept last night.

“Alright! Sakusa, it’s your serve!” Meian calls from the other mini team, and they all focus back in on the game. Sakusa takes the ball, walks to the back of the court, and serves it, the game continuing on despite the heat and exhaustion surrounding them.

“Miya!” Sakusa shouts for probably the fiftieth time today, turning to him with rage practically burning in his eyes and steam coming out of his ears. Atsumu prepares himself, body tensing, and tries not to react to him; he knows he doesn’t do super well with the heat, knows that’s why he’s in such a shit mood today.

“Sakkun…” Bokuto says, almost in warning, and reaches out a hand as if to stop him even though he would never – none of them would – touch him without consent.

“You set that way too low; did you think I couldn’t jump high enough because I’m tired from the heat?” he says, defensive, and it’s such a dumb thing to pick a fight over; if it were any other day, he would just glare at him until he got the memo.

He grits his teeth. “No, I just…” he huffs out a breath, wiping the sweat from his brow, “made a mistake.”

“Right. Well, good to know you can own up to something at least,” he says, rolling his eyes. “And stop being so loud: it’s obnoxious.”

He blinks, and then his face morphs into something of annoyance. “Loud? I’ve been keepin’ my cool with you all day!” he argues, and he knows that he is being loud now, but he’s too tired to even care at this point – they’ll be over it all by tomorrow, anyway. “And the fuck do you mean it’s good to know I can own up to somethin’?”

Sakusa takes a step back, eyebrows lowering. “You’ve been shouting during all our breaks and laughing annoyingly loud; it’s hard to focus on things that actually matter with you around. And I know that you’re the one who messed up my bed in mine and Bokuto’s hotel room during our last match – I had to go out and buy new sheets.”

Atsumu looks from him, to Bokuto, to Inunaki, and back to him again, wishing more than anything that he weren’t here right now. “That wasn’t me! That was fuckin’ Inunaki, cuz he didn’t realise it was your bed until after he’d spilled his drink on it, and then I spent ages tryin’ to clean it up before you got back!” he shouts, because really as much as he loves Inunaki and doesn’t want him to die, he’s not taking the blame for this, especially not when it obviously didn’t even matter that much until now when Sakusa’s trying to think up reasons to complain about him. “Maybe if you had asked someone, instead of just assuming that I was at fault for it, then you’d know that it wasn’t me; but of course, it’s easy to blame your shit on the person who’s known ya longest, especially since I don’t matter to ya. Geez Omi-kun, I thought you trusted me now….”

At that, Sakusa just stares at him, seemingly stuck in his spot, realising that this time round, he’s the asshole. Atsumu takes that as a win and turns away, annoyed with himself for getting heated about this instead of just playing it off as their usual banter-like arguments. It’s been so long since they last properly argued, too.

Foster, standing on the side-lines, sighs at the both of them. “Honestly, you two get into fights about the dumbest things,” he says with a shake of his head. He turns and starts to make his way to his office. “Practice is over for the day anyway. Have a good holiday, you lot, and keep up with your exercises: I’ll know if you don’t.”

Atsumu takes a deep breath, grateful, and walks towards the locker-room. Hyogo really can’t come soon enough.

When he gets out of the shower, having spent quite a while longer in there than he needed to – he heard everyone else getting in and out while he was still in his stall – he sees the team finishing up with getting dressed and talking about their holiday plans. Shoyo’s going back to Brazil for a week, then going home to Miyagi to see his family, and Bokuto’s going to Tokyo to visit family and Keiji; Atsumu knew that already though.

Sakusa looks up when he walks over to his locker and grabs his clothes, pulling them on as fast as he can so he can just get out of here, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s way too hot, and the awkward atmosphere that follows after an argument doesn’t exactly help. He ignores the stare directed at him, instead joining in with the others’ conversation, talking about how he’s staying at Mama’s for the break and how they’re all welcome to visit if they need a break from their families or something, seeing as the journey’s a fairly short one in comparison to a lot of the others. When he first moved to Osaka, he went back home every few weekends.

When he’s finally done getting his stuff together, he says his goodbyes to the team and heads out of the gym, ready to get back to his apartment and finish packing the things he’s taking back home with him; he feels a bit like a university student, going home before his next semester starts. Though, he supposes that if he were a student, he would have already graduated like Sakusa.

He makes it a few steps before he realises someone is following him.

Speak of the devil.

“What do you want?” he asks, stopping where he is and turning around to face him.

“I—” Sakusa hesitates, purses his lips, and looks down at the ground, one hand keeping his gym bag on his shoulder. “I wanted to apologise for how I acted today.” He looks just as put out as Atsumu would be if he were apologising for something. They’re pretty similar in that respect. Though… he was not expecting this.

“Huh?”

“Exercising in the heat can be difficult for me, as you know, and I’ve not been having the best day in general,” he explains, fist tightening around the strap of his bag. “That isn’t an excuse, I know, so I apologise for being confrontational. Meian told me I should be more honest.”

“Oh. Uh—alright, apology accepted, Omi-kun,” he says, because really, Atsumu can be one of the pettiest people alive sometimes, but he’s also pretty good at not holding grudges, thanks to all those years with Osamu – and Suna and Aran, for that matter. “Gods, it feels weird hearin’ an apology from you of all people.”

Sakusa looks a bit surprised, maybe because he’s been forgiven, or maybe because Atsumu didn’t just ignore him and walk away – it would be a very him thing to do.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, and when Atsumu starts walking again, he moves by his side. “I um… didn’t mean that thing. About you not mattering. I should have asked and not assumed the worst in you, because I do… trust you.” He practically has to force those last few words out, and it almost makes him laugh. “Though, I think it’s fair enough that I did, considering what you did the last time we shared a room.”

“That was an accident!” he yelps, but his stomach does a little jumpy thing which he chalks up to the fact that he’s not used to getting apologies from anyone. He usually has some kind of non-verbal understanding with most of his friends that for the majority of the things he says, he doesn’t mean them. “Anyway Omi-kun, you’re bein’ real articulate right now, and you’re really following that advice of being honest… how can I be sure that you’re not actually Meian in Omi’s body?”

He glares at him, unamused. “The team didn’t want us to leave while we were fighting. And…” he trails off, mumbling the last part.

“Huh? Didn’t catch that last bit.”

His glare somehow turns darker, burning holes into the ground as they walk, and Atsumu swears he sees pink peeking out of the top of his mask that makes him sputter out a quiet laugh. “I felt guilty. I didn’t want you to think that I… didn’t value you. As a teammate.”

Huh. That shocks him honestly, but he inwardly shakes his head and tries to hold it in, instead allowing a sly smirk to settle on his face. “Aw, only as a teammate? That hurts, Omi-Omi, I thought I was your best friend.”

“Don’t push it.”

Atsumu hums for a moment, sticking his tongue out at him, and then he turns to him, curious. “So, what’re your plans for the break? Goin’ to some fancy holiday home your parents own?” He knows his parents are crazy rich, but that’s about it – they own a major business or something boring like that.

He swears he sees Sakusa tense for a moment, but then it disappears, being replaced by something distant in his eyes as he looks ahead. It’s not a very familiar expression for him to hold. “I’m staying here. I might go visit Motoya and my aunt at some point, but no, I’m not going to some fancy holiday home.”

He jumps a little and turns to him, aghast. “You’re not going anywhere other than that? So, you’re just gonna be alone in your tiny little apartment?” That’s heartbreakingly sad, even if he is a grown man that can take care of himself.

Sakusa takes a step away from him, looking a little defensive. “Well… I won’t be alone. I have a fish.”

“You have a fish?”

“Yes.”

Atsumu blinks. “Omi-kun, that is not company. It can’t even hug ya, like a dog or a cat. I bet you’re a cat person, right? I could see it. You should get a cat. Those hairless ones are pretty mess-free I hear, even if they are absolutely terrifying. It’d match ya.”

Sakusa raises an eyebrow, overlooking his last comment. “I prefer dogs, actually. I couldn’t get one though, not when I don’t have a garden for it to run in and I’m always at practice. It would be unfair. It just… helps, to have something else that’s alive in my apartment, I suppose.”

Huh. He wouldn’t have thought that Sakusa Kiyoomi, mess-hater extraordinaire, would like dogs. “I guess that makes sense. I have plants to fill that void though, and they’re way better than a fish tank that sits in the corner of the room – oh, and they remind me to open my curtains in the mornings.”

He shakes his head. “My fish breathes and needs feeding.”

“Hey! Plants breathe and need feeding too! I’ve got Inunaki goin’ to look after them while I’m gone!” he says, pressing a hand to his chest. “I just— seriously, can we get back onto the topic of how a fish isn’t company? Like, what do you even do with it? Is it like a therapist to you? Do ya tell it all your problems and hope it doesn’t get so stressed out that it dies?”

Sakusa looks at him like he’s both amused by and also completely over this conversation. “I just look at it. Sometimes I… watch matches on my laptop with the screen at an angle that lets it watch with me.”

Oh Gods. “Omi-kun, that is the saddest, and somehow cutest, thing I’ve ever heard. It would’ve been healthier to just not have bought it.”

He rolls his eyes, as is customary for him to do so every time Atsumu speaks. “I didn’t even buy it. It’s my niece’s. My sister bought it for her, but they moved recently, and she asked me to look after it until they’ve finished unpacking.”

That’s new. “You have a niece? And a sister? What else are you hidin’ from me?”

“A list of ways to shut you up that I recite to myself every morning,” he says, deadpan. Atsumu is not amused.

“Hah, hah. Seriously Omi, how’d I not know that you had a family other than your parents and Komori?” He really can’t believe this. They’ve known each other, been acquaintances at least, since they were sixteen, and he didn’t know that he more than just two birth-givers.

He sighs. “It’s not really a big deal, Miya. I have a mother and father, a sister who’s much older than me with a husband and two kids, and a brother who’s a year older than her with a wife and three kids. That’s all there is to it.”

“Hm… well, why aren’t you going to see any of them at some point?” he asks, and then regrets it as soon as he sees him wince.

He’s quiet for a moment. “That’s none of your concern.”

Atsumu goes quiet too, thinking through his next words and wondering whether or not what he’s about to say is the best idea, and then shrugs to himself and begins walking again with a smile. Gods, if his sixteen-year-old self could see him now. “Well, like I said to the others, you can come spend some time at the Miya residence if the fish doesn’t cut it for ya. We’ve got a spare room sort of, and my mama loves havin’ guests; so does Adzuki.”

Sakusa’s face contorts from shock to confusion. “Adzuki?”

His smile stretches wider just thinking about it. “My dog. She lives back home, for the same reasons why you didn’t get one here.”

“You have a dog?”

He laughs at the way his face lights up. “Yep. An ever-so-rare shiba inu,” he hums, wiggling his fingers in front of him as if having the most popular breed of dog in Japan is fascinating. “She’s real friendly. She takes after me.” He winks.

His eyes widen ever-so-slightly, and he looks away. “You named your dog after a type of bean?”

He shrugs. “I thought it was cute.” Thinking about her is making him yearn to be home even sooner. He really does miss her.

He shakes his head. “Well, I appreciate the invite, but I’m sure Goldy and I will be just fine.”

“Pfft. Goldy?”

“My niece is half-English. As you can tell, she’s terribly creative with names,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his tone and Atsumu laughs. He doesn’t miss the way that a tiny smile creases Sakusa’s eyes before he hastens to add, “It’s not even gold; it’s blue.” Atsumu snorts.

Two days later, when Atsumu’s on the train back to Hyogo with a suitcase and a few more bags, he receives a text from none other than Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Omi-Omi: My sister took Goldy back.

Omi-Omi: Sakura cried when she saw her.

Omi-Omi: I do not understand how she is so attached to a fish. It can’t even hug her.

Atsumu grins.

Me: i can pick u up from the station tomorrow

Me: if u promise to be nice to me for however long ure here

Me: and if u say something nice about me now

The response comes about twenty minutes later.

Omi-Omi: Your hair looks better now that it isn’t piss-coloured.

Me: im gonna leave u at the station

When the train finally pulls into the station and Atsumu sees Mama waiting for him by the barriers, eyes darting all over the place to find him as people push onto the platform, he practically runs off the train, almost falling over in the process and making a complete idiot of himself. He’s missed her so much.

“Mama!” he shouts, dragging his suitcase and bags behind him, and instead of feeling like a university student, he now feels like a little kid again, getting picked up from his and Osamu’s weekend at their grandparents’ house after their parents split up.

“Atsumu!” she shouts back, smile spreading so far across her face that her eyes crease, and she opens her arms wide, waiting for him to barrel into them. That he does.

She wraps her arms around him, joining her hands together behind his back and standing on her tiptoes to try to make it easier; she and Nan always said they got their height from Dad. He squeezes her, gentle, with his knees bent.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, and she squeezes him back, and he feels so happy in this moment, so much better than whatever weird energy has been stopping him from sleeping recently. He’s improved a lot since he first moved to Osaka when it comes to living alone and being more independent but being away from her still gets hard sometimes. He lets out a breath, melting into her.

When she pulls away, he holds her still by the shoulders, bags abandoned by his side, and looks into her eyes, looks over her face, just to make sure that she’s okay, that nothing’s happened that he wasn’t informed of. Luckily, she looks the same as ever, other than a couple more wrinkles from smiling too much and a few more strands of white and grey in her hair.

“You always worry too much,” she teases, shaking her head slightly and picking up one of his lighter bags. He shrugs and follows her out of the station, grabbing hold of the others.

“I just like to make sure you’re alright.”

“That’s my job, ya know,” she laughs. “You’re supposed to be out livin’ your life, not thinking about your mama all the time.”

“Well, that’s just dumb.”

“You’re dumb.”

“Mama!”

He’s driving along the country roads, past Inarizaki high school, past Aran and Kita’s families’ houses, back towards home, and he’s probably never felt better than he does right now in this moment. It’s comfortable, familiar, and honestly just what he’s needed for a while. He can just forget everything like this, all of his troubles back in Osaka – not that there are many – and just relax for the summer.

And then he remembers. He’s going to be doing this same drive again tomorrow, and he can’t help but wonder how similar it might be to this. Will the person in the passenger seat be as enamoured with this place as he always has been?

“Mama,” he calls, turning down the radio of his beloved red pick-up truck and looking to where she’s sitting in the passenger seat for a brief moment, just to make sure that her attention is on him.

“Mm?” she hums, turning his head away from the window. “What’s up?”

He takes a deep breath, almost wanting to pinch himself because it honestly still doesn’t feel quite real. “My teammate’s gonna be stayin’ with us for a bit; he’s coming tomorrow. That alright? I figured I should make sure with you.”

Her face lights up. “Oh! Is it Shoyo? Or Koutarou?” She loves those two like they’re her kids as well, but he guesses it’s pretty impossible to not love them, no matter who you are.

“Damn, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you like them more than me,” he says, slouching dramatically in his seat. Then he sits back up, eyes ahead. “Nah, it’s Omi— Sakusa Kiyoomi. He’s not really got anyone to hang out with over the break, and honestly, I think I’m his closest friend other than his cousin, who’s away on some trip for most of the holiday. And Bokkun, I think.”

“Oh,” she says, a smile creeping onto her face. She doesn’t need to say anything else for him to know what she’s thinking, obsessed with his love life as always.

“Mama… it’s not like that,” he groans. Even just the thought of dating Sakusa makes his throat tight with the laugh he keeps down.

She lifts up her hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything. I’m just excited to meet him!”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, just— he’s not like… anyone, really.” He kind of likes that about him, though. He’s unique. “He can be kinda awkward and blunt, and he doesn’t like germs or people touching him – it can make him anxious, but he’s also just pretty specific about that stuff, I dunno – but he’s nice, yeah? He’s really into stars and stuff, so you could talk to him about that. Oh, and—”

“Atsumu, honey, you’re ramblin’,” she says, cutting him off gently and placing a hand on his shoulder with a light squeeze. “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

He nods, trying to calm himself, and glances towards her to see a reassuring smile. Why is he so nervous about all this? Usually, he doesn’t care that much if his family likes his friend or not… though, he’s never really introduced them to anyone before other than Bokuto and Shoyo, who he didn’t need to worry about at all. “Yeah. Right. You get it.”

“I get it. Now, come on, your brother and Rintarou are waiting for ya.”

“Ew,” he jokes. “You know I’m only back for Adzuki.”

“Very funny. I’m tellin’ them you said that.”

“Good.”

When they pull into the driveway, Atsumu sees that the house, similar to Mama, is almost just how he left it, at least from the outside. There are more vines along the walls, and there’s an extra car that belongs to Osamu, but that’s about it. It’s home.

“You go on inside, I’ll bring your bags in,” Mama says, and before he can even try to argue, she’s opening the front door of the house and Adzuki is running at him, knocking him over onto the ground and licking at his face. Gods, it hurts.

He laughs, unable to keep it in, and wraps his arms around. “Hi! Yeah, alright, I see ya!” He tries to push at her chest, gentle enough so that he won’t hurt her. “Alright, stop, I don’t wanna make out with you Zuki.”

Mama chuckles from behind him while he attempts to wrestle with the dog, continuing to be licked at and attacked, and then he sees Osamu and Suna looming over him, just watching him struggle like the assholes they are, the latter holding his phone out in front of him.

“Wow, hey Samu, Sunarin, good to see you two, thanks so much for the help by the way, I really appreciate it,” he says, deadpan almost as good as Sakusa’s as he glares up at them.

“No problem,” Suna grins, still pointing his phone’s camera at him, definitely recording him for his evil little folder of embarrassing footage of his friends. “I’m posting this on my Instagram story.”

“Here, Mama, gimme some of those,” Osamu says, reaching his arm out for a bag. She passes him the heaviest one, and as soon as he picks it up, he glares at Atsumu. “You’re annoying.”

“Yeah, piss off.” He kicks at his leg, attempting to make him trip up on his way back into the house, and then is kicked in return.

“Boys!” Mama scolds, obviously not ready to deal with their antics quite yet. “Get inside, we need to clean for Kiyoomi-kun. And by that, I mean Atsumu needs to clean and you two need to come shopping with me.”

“Kiyo— huh? Sakusa’s coming?” Suna asks, dropping his hand and shoving his phone in his pocket. Mama pats at Adzuki’s head and whistles, nodding her head to the side, and the dog jumps off Atsumu and follows her towards the back garden. Suna reaches out a hand and helps him up.

“Yeah, uh…” he scratches at the back of his head, “I told him he could stay here for as long as he wanted. He didn’t really have anywhere else to go, and being the gentleman I am, I couldn’t just let him stay in his lonely apartment on his own.”

“Who told you that?”

“What?”

“That you’re a gentleman – they were lying to you.”

Atsumu pushes him lightly and he laughs.

“When’s he get here?” Osamu pipes in, dropping Atsumu’s bags at the bottom of the stairs because he’s an awful brother who can’t even carry them to his room like a well-behaved bellboy.

He shrugs. “Sometime tomorrow. He’s gonna call me tonight, I think, to finalise times and… stuff.”

“And stuff?” he repeats with a raised eyebrow.

“Sus,” Suna comments eloquently, winking.

His attempt at punching his twin is dodged. “Shut it. I’m not gettin’ in any relationships or whatever you think this is right now – I’m only twenty-three.” Seriously, why do people keep assuming there’s something going on with him and Sakusa? Even Shoyo asked him if he had a crush on him a couple weeks ago.

“What’s wrong with being in a relationship at twenty-three?” Suna asks, and Osamu puts his arms around his shoulder, like they’re in some dumb movie and it’s just been revealed that they’re dating.

He shudders. “Ugh, get outta my face. You’re both disgusting.”

“Homophobic.”

“Samu! Come help me get the shoppin’ bags!” Mama yells from the kitchen, and Atsumu sneers at the two of them as they walk away.

“I dunno what you’re so happy about, loser; you’re the one that has to clean the house by yourself!”

Oh. Wait. Fuck.

In all honesty, Atsumu has never hated cleaning. He supposes he can understand why it brings Sakusa peace, even if it’s a different feeling to what he experiences himself. It’s methodical and leaves you feeling like you’ve accomplished something; he can respect that. It’s probably one of the reasons why Kita likes cleaning so much, too, if he thinks about it.

It takes him a while, especially once the others get back from their shopping trip and he has to work around them, but with his earphones blasting one of his old playlists from high school, and small breaks to give Adzuki his attention, he manages to finish most of the house before seven. There’s only one room left, and he knows he’s going to have to face it soon enough, especially with Sakusa staying in it, but… well, he’s avoided it for years, so he figures he can avoid it for one more day. He doesn’t want to think of the memories it holds.

So, he reaches out to Mama to pull her aside so that Osamu doesn’t make fun of him – though he doubts he would about something like this – and quietly asks her to take care of the spare room for him. She squeezes his arm with a look that screams love and understanding, and nods, taking the cleaning supplies from him and walking upstairs without so much as a mention of how he needs to brave this.

“Oi! Samu! I’m takin’ Adzuki for a walk! You two coming?” he calls after downing a glass of water and starts pulling on his trainers. At the word walk, Adzuki comes sprinting out of the living room to jump at his legs. There’s a couple moments of silence, other than the sound of her collar jangling against itself, probably the two of them debating, and then a shout of confirmation comes, telling him they’ll just be a couple minutes. He nods to himself, then grabs Adzuki’s lead – despite her always having been a well-behaved dog – and walks outside with her trailing excitedly behind him.

The sun’s barely even started setting, what with it being summer, but he knows that by the time they’re back home and having dinner, which he’s really hoping will be pizza from the take-out shop in town, they’ll probably be eating with most of the natural light gone. He doesn’t care, though. He’s just happy to be here.

He leans against the fence lining their driveway and rubs at Adzuki’s ears, smiling down at her when her tongue flops out and she tries to jump up at him. Gods, he’s missed her so much. He doesn’t understand how people can hate dogs, even in the slightest. What would he do without her?

“Where we goin’?” Osamu asks when he and Suna walk out of the house to join in him in the driveway. Atsumu takes a moment to think before he decides, still looking down at his smiling puppy who is definitely not a puppy anymore.

“The field? I figure I might as well leave the special places for when Omi-kun’s here, since we can show him around,” he says, pushing away from the fence and starting on the familiar walk that leads to the big field on the outskirts of the old forest.

The field, just by the start of the trail that leads into the forest, was a place that Atsumu and Osamu always spent a lot of time, especially in their teenage years. It was never too busy, even on sunny days, seeing as people often preferred to spend their time at the beach, but it was fairly common for their friend group to be found lying on the grass.

A lot of the time, they would take water guns or balloons, soaking each other in wars that wouldn’t end until the sun was going down, and other times, they would have barbecues there. Atsumu would take his guitar and Aran would bring blankets and seats, and they would stay there until the sky was dark and their parents were texting them to get home.

It’s not necessarily a special place for him, not like the beach or the lookout point he drives to when his head won’t shut up, but… it’s another piece of home, of memories that he never wants to forget.

“It feels like I’ve not been here in forever,” he says, walking over to the tire swing that’s been hanging from one of the stray trees since Dad helped them put it up when they were young and still loved by him. He tugs on the rope and, deciding that it’s still strong enough to take his weight even now, sits down and gently swings back and forth, relishing in the slight breeze that pushes through his hair. Adzuki barks happily at him, then starts sniffing at the flowers around them, glad to be surrounded by so much empty space to run around in.

“It has been a while,” Osamu agrees, leaning against the tree and picking a leaf off one of the branches. Murderer.

Suna raises an eyebrow. “I’ve not been here since graduation, probably. How have I not been here for five years?”

“I’ve walked by a few times with Adzuki over the years, but I’ve not been back here, to the tree and stuff,” Atsumu says, his words almost a sigh. Sometimes he doesn’t care that it was Dad who put up the tire swing, and sometimes it’s too much to think about.

“Damn,” Suna mumbles, looking up at the tree with his eyebrows slightly furrowed. Atsumu plants his shoes on the ground to steady himself and he starts to climb it, sitting down on the branch he always opted for. He pulls out his phone and points it down at the two of them, so they stick their middle fingers up and smile at the camera, just as they always did.

“I always feel like something huge happened here, instead of us all just gettin’ drunk and crying,” he says with a tiny smile, because looking back on it now doesn’t hurt anymore, not like it used to when he was still trying to adjust to being away from here. He’s happy now, even if he does still sometimes miss his high school days, all his friends. He misses Aran and Kita the most.

Suna snickers. “You literally ran away because you didn’t want to vom near the sacred tree.”

“To be fair, I don’t think any of us wanted Tsumu to vom here. It would’ve ruined the whole vibe,” Osamu adds on, grinning, and Atsumu feels a sense of nostalgia and peace settle over him. This is what he wanted from his break away from Osaka, from the city. He wanted to be more than just at home; he wanted to be home.

“So,” Osamu starts after a while of silence save for Adzuki’s excited barks whenever he throws a ball for her, “what’s the deal with Sakusa?”

Atsumu turns his head to him, frowning. “What do ya mean?”

“Like… why’s he comin’ here?”

Oh. “Well, I dunno, I just invited him. Not that it’s your business, but I don’t think he’s really all that close with his family, other than Komori, but he’s away or something – Sunarin probably knows more about that than me. Plus… he’s my friend,” he explains with a shrug. “I think maybe… he’s got some stuff to deal with too, and I figured this place could probably help, right? It’s quiet enough.” He looks up from the ground and sees them sharing a look. “What?”

“Nothing… I was just wondering.”

Suna smirks. “Imagine telling young Atsumu that he’s gonna be friends with Sakusa. He’d have a fit.”

Osamu barks out a laugh. “He’d punch ya, Tsumu.”

He reaches out his leg to kick him. “I’d never punch myself, I’m too amazing. He would be furious though,” he adds on with a grin.

When they get back to the house, having spent a while longer in the field playing with Adzuki and reminiscing over their youthful years, Atsumu’s prediction is proven true, the sun having almost completely gone down by now. There are pizza boxes sitting on the coffee table in the living room where Mama is picking out a movie to play, and he honestly thinks he feels tears in his eyes.

“Mama, you are literally the light of my life,” he cries as he walks past, taking Adzuki to the kitchen to pour some food out for her into her bowl. She sits politely beside him, watching with big eyes and a wagging tail as he measures out the correct amount of dog food and tips it into her bowl. He adds a few torn up pieces of ham that he finds in the fridge, just because she was so good today and he loves her so much.

“Go on then, Zuki,” he says, voice higher-pitched than normal, and she goes running at the bowl, obviously excited for her special dinner. He leaves her to it and goes to join the others, ready to sit down and eat his own food.

“Gods, I’ve missed pizza so much,” Suna says, reaching for a slice of margherita as soon as Atsumu’s sat himself down at the end of the couch next to Osamu.

“Me too,” he agrees, practically feeling butterflies in his stomach at how excited he is to eat this. He takes a slice of pineapple and savours the first bite. “Fuck, I might just quit volleyball so I can eat this more. I hate bein’ healthy.”

Mama laughs. “No, you don’t – you’ve always been careful about food, even when you were little. I never cared as long as you were eatin’ your veggies, but you really did save the unhealthy stuff for special occasions… or when you were sad.”

Osamu nudges him. “She’s right. I mean, come on, you even go for the pizza with ham and pineapple.” Beside him, Suna makes a gagging motion at his choice of toppings.

He nudges him back. “It’s good! And it’s a good balance of nutritional stuff and shit,” he defends, because he will not sit here and let them diss his beloved pizza. Or his diet. He likes to stay fit and healthy, and he likes the taste of fruit and vegetables.

Mama smiles at him and presses play on the movie, almost teasing. “Hey, I’m not complainin’. It was nice to not have to deal with two fussy bitches when you were babies, even if you did grow out of it.”

“Mama!” Osamu shouts, and Atsumu’s cackle rings out into the room.

This. This is what he’s missed. It’s just weird that he feels like he’s still missing a puzzle piece.

Chapter Text

The next day, Atsumu sets off in his car for the station at eleven in the morning, despite his complaining to Sakusa the night before that he wanted to sleep in until the evening for once, who only ignored his pleads.

He takes the time to prepare himself for the next couple of weeks or so, because he really does like Sakusa, he’s one of his closer friends, but… well, they’re not too used to spending large amounts of time with just the two of them. What if his cleaning isn’t up to par? What if he instantly decides that he hates Atsumu again and goes straight back home?

“Calm down,” he mutters to himself, leaning against the outside of his car with his arms crossed, and takes a deep breath. He’s taking this way too seriously. It’s only Sakusa. Sakusa, who is part of his team; his team in which no one really knows much about Atsumu’s personal life: even Bokuto doesn’t know all of it.

It’s not like he doesn’t trust his teammates with personal information, but more so that he just doesn’t like talking about it. Like how Dad left, how Mama had to work so many jobs for so long just so that they could stay in their house and their school, how Nan died a few years back and he’s still not quite over it.

He sighs, annoyed at himself for even thinking about this shit because it’s basically irrelevant, and he pushes his hair back, running his fingers through it just so that he has something to do. He wants to be driving again, wants to be behind the wheel with the window open, in his own world without having to think about anything. Maybe Sakusa will let him go for a surprise drive sometimes, if he’s lucky. He used to love driving to nowhere, disappearing for a whole day.

Before he can think any more about any of it though, he sees a familiar figure making their way towards him with a few bags and a suitcase.

He grins. “Omi-kun, good to see ya. So sorry to hear about Goldy being taken away from you. I bet it must be hard, especially seein’ as you had such a close attachment with her,” he teases, holding his hand out to take some of his bags. Sakusa hesitates, then passes two of them over.

“I already regret coming,” he says, deadpan, and Atsumu figures that maybe he didn’t really need to worry so much about it all, because this is definitely going to be fun. He’s got free reign over making fun of Sakusa without having Meian around ready to scold him like he’s a little kid again and has just picked a fight with Osamu.

“Aw, come on, Omi-Omi, don’t say that! I’ve still got plenty of time to annoy you to death. Oh! Maybe I can speed-run it and you’ll be unconscious by the time we get back to the house! But you do have practice from all those bus journeys to matches, so maybe it’ll take longer….” He opens the back-seat doors and shoves the bags and suitcase on the freshly cleaned seats.

Sakusa narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything, then looks from Atsumu to his beloved red truck, then back to Atsumu. “How long is the drive?”

He shrugs. “Eh, like, an hour dependin’ on how fast I drive. Do ya want me to speed Omi? That’s not very safe.”

“An hour?” he repeats, suddenly looking paler. He laughs, loud and excited, because this is decidedly going to be a very fun break.

“Well yeah, I mean, it takes a while to get to the coast,” he says, then opens the passenger door and holds out a hand. “Need help in, your majesty?”

“You live by the sea?” he asks, and honestly it takes him aback a little; how does he possibly not know that?

“Yeah? I have since I was born. I mean, when we went to Inarizaki, sometimes me and Osamu stayed at Suna’s if we were at practice late and too tired to catch the bus, but… yeah. How’d ya not know that?”

Sakusa studies him for a moment, then gets into the car, swatting away his hand without any other words. Atsumu hurries round to the other side and pops himself into the driver’s seat. “Don’t worry, Omi, it won’t seem that long. Plus, the views round here are real nice.”

“Are there not any stations closer to where you live?” he asks once he’s started up the car and is looking in the mirrors to make sure he can get out of his spot safely.

“Nah, we live in a pretty small village, so this is the closest one, unless you wanted to switch trains and get a bus too. I won’t talk too much though, honest. I like the drive. Helps me think.”

He side-eyes him, then nods and averts his gaze to the window. Atsumu pulls out of his parking space and onto the road, the car’s radio kicking in with the quiet music of one of his playlists.

“You know… it’s strange, but I’ve never really been around Japan much,” Sakusa says after a while of driving in silence, the radio continuing to play music quiet enough that it mostly merges with the wind.

“Whaddya mean?”

He hesitates, then turns to face Atsumu who glances at him before looking back to the road ahead. There are barely any other cars around, as per usual. “Well, I went on holidays with my parents and siblings fairly often when I was young, but they usually preferred to go abroad, to countries like the United States, Germany, Korea, Italy… so before I joined the team and started travelling to more places for matches, I’d only ever really been around Tokyo.”

“I guess that makes sense, but I thought you didn’t like flying? Y’know, cuz of the recycled air and all the germs and shit,” he says, putting his indicator on and turning left onto an even quieter road, through the farms.

Sakusa’s silent for a moment, then he nods. “Yeah… I suppose my parents thought the exposure would help me. It didn’t, but it did allow me to travel to a lot of fascinating places, so once we were actually there, it wasn’t so bad.”

Atsumu smiles, happy to listen to Sakusa talk about… well, anything really. While he definitely speaks a lot more now than used to, he’s still not always the chattiest. “You’ll have to tell me about it sometime then. I wanna see photos of baby Omi in like, some castle or some shit.”

“Yeah, no, that’s not happening. You’ll probably make fun of me by saying I looked just as grumpy as I do now, or something equally ridiculous,” he says, rolling his eyes. He knows him so well. “I just mention it because I don’t think I’ve ever really been to Hyogo other than the occasional visit to Kobe.”

He has to stop himself from slamming on the brakes in his shock. “What?! For real? Damn, Omi-kun, you’re missin’ out. The beach here is real fuckin’ nice. The whole town is nice, honestly: quiet, not too busy… it’s home.”

“I suppose we both had very different upbringings, what with you growing up somewhere like this, and me growing up in Tokyo,” he comments, eyes back on the view outside.

“Eh, you’re probably right, but I think we’re more similar than people realise,” he says, taking a hand off the wheel and running it through his hair. “I mean, we both like volleyball.”

Sakusa huffs out a laugh and it causes a little burst of pride in Atsumu’s chest – it’s pretty rare to get much of a reaction out of him, other than frustration. Though… he doesn’t think he’s ever seen him laugh without his mask on. He wonders what it looks like.

“If liking volleyball is the only thing that links us, then I’d say we’re similar to a lot of people, Miya.”

He shrugs, then turns right on the road. “Are you gonna call me that the whole break? ‘S just that, well, I think it’ll get kinda confusing. I know you love annoying me by always calling me that, but come on, Omi-kun, please just call me Atsumu; I lose my mind a little more every time you say it.”

Sakusa doesn’t say anything to that for a moment, instead directing his eyes elsewhere with a shrug that somehow exudes a teasing energy. “Hm… maybe. It is fun to annoy you.”

“Omi-kun!”

Atsumu stops the car, pulling into the driveway, and turns to Sakusa, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. Why is he nervous?

“Why are you looking at me like you’re about to tell me something bad?” he asks, frowning at whatever expression is on his face. He tries to wipe it away.

“Sorry. It’s not bad, just uh… you know I can be a bit full on—”

“A bit?”

“Shut up. My family can be more full on, is what I’m getting’ at. You know me and Samu are a lot, and Mama means well but sometimes can be quite chatty and affectionate,” he says, hoping that it doesn’t drive Sakusa away. “I told them you don’t like being touched and stuff though, and we cleaned the room you’re stayin’ in, so don’t worry about that! I cleaned the whole house, too.”

He visibly deflates. “Ah. I really thought you were going to tell me something bad… like, your parents are horrible and keep dead bodies in the basement; that would be far too unsanitary for me.”

Atsumu laughs. “Nah, that’s only one of ‘em,” he teases, then opens the car door before he can get in a response. “Come on, I’ll help ya take your stuff in.”

He nods and gets out the car, walking to the back doors and taking the bag that Atsumu offers him – he takes the rest since he’s trying to be a good host – and they turn towards the house, fully taking it in. How does Sakusa see it? He’s pretty sure the house he grew up in was some massive kind of mansion, from what he’s heard.

“Welcome to your home away from home, Omi-kun,” he grins, walking forward and letting go of the suitcase for a minute to open the door. “Adzuki’s in the garden since I didn’t think you’d want her jumping at you straight away.”

“Oh. Thank you,” he says, following him into the house and peering at the hallway that greets them. Atsumu gives him a sign to cover his ears, then shouts as loud as he can, just to be annoying. “Mama! We’re here!”

Sakusa lowers his hands and glares at him, so he smiles in response and puts his hands on his hips, waiting for Mama to walk in. She only takes a few seconds before she’s speeding over, drying her hands with a towel. He tries to view her from Sakusa’s eyes: not too short, but short in comparison to them, with long brown hair that’s streaked with white that almost looks purposeful, and a face covered in laugh lines. He hopes he likes her. She deserves for the whole world to like her.

“Ah, Kiyoomi-kun – can I call ya that? – it’s lovely to meet you! I’m Emiko, so feel free to call me that,” she says, hands held behind her back to stop herself from holding one out to shake his. “Anyway, I’ll let you both settle in, I’m just in the kitchen if you need me. Atsumu, your brother and Rintarou are—”

“Right here,” Osamu says, walking in from the living room with Suna right beside him. It strikes Atsumu that Sakusa has not said a word yet, and that this hallway is far too cramped for three professional volleyball players, an ex-volleyball player, and a mother.

“Sakusa, it’s been a while,” Suna says, leaning against the doorframe, and Sakusa nods, a little frantic look in his eye. Atsumu pushes between him and his family, careful not to touch the former.

“Alright, geez, you’ve not even given Omi-kun a chance to speak yet, so hold off on your greetings and intimidations for now, yeah? We’re gonna take his stuff to his room, then we’ll come down and talk with ya,” he says, shooing them away with his hands. Mama quietly apologises, laughter in her voice that proves she’s not really sorry, and she pushes the other two along to the kitchen with her.

“Gods, sorry Omi-kun,” he breathes, turning back around and taking a step away to put more space between them. He looks to the stairs and his chest tightens a little, but he knows he can’t exactly put this off any longer. Maybe it’ll be better that he’s not doing it alone. “I’ll show you where you’re sleepin’, okay?”

Sakusa nods, looking a little overwhelmed already, and Atsumu picks up the bags he’d brought in and leads him upstairs, pointing out which rooms are whose and where the bathroom is on the way. It’s too soon that they reach the guest room’s door.

“Um, you’re in here,” he says, trying not to sound or look too obviously tense. He doesn’t do a very good job.

“Are you… alright?” Sakusa asks before he can reach out for the door handle, looking straight at him. He nods, swallowing.

“Yeah. This room used to, um,” he sucks a breath in, feeling ridiculous, “be my nan’s. I’ve not really been in since her funeral – I even got Mama to clean it for you so that I wouldn’t have to.” It feels dumb saying it aloud, like he’s being childish. It’s only a bedroom, after all.

“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss,” he says, a little awkward, but sympathy clear on his face.

“It’s okay. It happened a while ago; I’ve just kinda been a coward about seeing it again,” he laughs, weak, but considers it a win since he’s not crying… not that he does that a lot. He reaches his hand out and grabs onto the door handle, pushing it down and opening the door. “Anyway, let’s go in, yeah? You’ll probably want to unpack or whatever, right?”

“Preferably yes, if there’s somewhere for me to put my things,” he nods, following him in, and Atsumu takes in the sight of the room. It looks a lot different to how it used to. He doesn’t really feel as sad as he’d expected to, though – he’s more grateful than anything, he thinks. If it still looked like Nan’s room, it would feel wrong, letting other people stay in it. But the walls are grey now, rather than the pale yellow they used to be, and Mama’s littered plants and a couple candles around the room, as well as replacing the old bed; it’s a whole new place. He wants to be upset, but he can’t even manage it when he looks closer and sees old decorations that belonged to her, still scattered around the room.

“Huh. This… isn’t as hard as I thought it was gonna be,” he says, feeling a little lighter even through the sadness that still clings to his heart. He really does miss her. She was the first person he always went to when he was sad, the person who introduced him to some of his favourite things outside of volleyball.

“It’s nice,” Sakusa compliments, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to the window. “Were you close with your grandma?”

He leans against the wall, not wanting to sit down in case he dirties the clean sheets; he really had seemed anxious at first when Inunaki spilled his drink on his bed at that hotel. He’d rather avoid touching it. “Yeah, really close. I didn’t see her all that much when I was really young, but she moved in here after my dad left, y’know… to help Mama and comfort us, I guess. This was the spare room before she came here, too.”

They’re quiet for a moment, and then Sakusa speaks up, watching the way his fingers are tapping at his thighs to get out some of the nervous energy. “I didn’t know about your father. Or really much of anything about your family beyond your mum and brother.”

He shrugs, stopping the tapping and crossing his arms. “Yeah. I don’t really like talkin’ about it, since it’s not really that fun to think about,” he says with a quiet laugh. He wonders if he understands, even just a little bit, since he’s clearly not too close with his own family. He shakes himself out of his head, then stands up a little straighter, unable to stay still. “Me and Osamu used to share a room, the one I’ve got now, and the one he sleeps in now was Dad’s office – Mama and Nan converted it to a spare bedroom after a while of him being gone, since our other one was occupied now; honestly, I think re-decorating things helps them with grief, for whatever reason. Anyway, we were really stubborn when we were kids, so we refused to sleep anywhere but our bunk bed, but then we had a crazy fight at the end of our second year at Inarizaki, and Osamu moved into that room. He liked the independence or whatever though, so we just stayed in separate rooms even after we made up.”

“It seems like there’s a lot of history in this house,” Sakusa jokes, and Atsumu grins.

“Yep. It’s not so bad now, even if it does seem like one huge sob-story. We struggled for a while with money and stuff, but Nan was always super strong-willed and strong-hearted and all that shit, so eventually she called Dad and yelled at him that the least he could do was pay some fucking child support, and he did… so I guess there’s some kind of a heart in him.” He thinks about all that time Mama spent working too many jobs, always coming home exhausted and whispering to Nan about how they might have to move. It was bad for all of them. After Nan called him though, she got to quit one of her jobs, and after a while she started painting again, and it felt like there was some kind of light back in the house. He tries not to imagine what it would have been like if he’d just stayed.

“I’m glad that you feel better now,” Sakusa says, and when Atsumu looks down from the ceiling to smile at him, he’s surprised to be given one in return. For a moment too long, he can’t find it in himself to look away, wrapped up in the fact that he’s being smiled at by the man who rarely gives anything other than a glare.

He swallows, finally snapping himself out of it, and pushes off the wall, walking around the bed and towards the wall. “Gods, it’s hot in here. I’ll open the window for ya, so that it’s not super stuffy when you come in later.” He’s fiddling with the lock and pushing it open when he feels a presence behind him; he peeks out the corner of his eye to see Sakusa looking out at the view of the garden and, beyond that, the sea.

“It’s a nice view,” he hums, then steps away. “I feel like I should properly introduce myself to your mother.”

Atsumu grins and nods, hurrying past him towards the door, always happy to go see Mama and to get away from the topic of Nan and Dad. “Let’s go, then!”

He follows him out the room, and this time they take it a little slower, the both of them having calmed down more just in the span of a couple minutes. As they’re walking down the stairs, Sakusa smirks from behind him.

“This is the worst photo of you I’ve ever seen,” he says, and when Atsumu turns around, he’s got his phone pointed at the photographs hanging on the wall. He practically screams and leaps for him.

“DELETE THAT!”

Sakusa steps back and holds his hand out of reach, Atsumu unable to get the phone without touching him. “No, I’m going to send it to the group chat.”

Not the group chat. Inunaki will never let him live it down. “OMI-OMI! Why do you hate me?! I got a bad haircut, that’s not my fault! Look, Samu’s got the same one! Make fun of him!”

“He doesn’t look as awful as you do.”

“WE HAVE THE SAME FACE!”

There’s no way he’s getting hold of that phone. He sighs, letting out a whine and instead opting for silencing his notifications on his own phone, so that he at least won’t be bombarded with insults from his teammates. “You’re fake.”

Sakusa rolls his eyes, putting his phone back into his pocket, and brushes past him on the stairs, continuing his way down. “You’re over-dramatic.”

“Says you.”

They continue their argument into the kitchen, and when they walk in, Atsumu trying to convince him that he wasn’t an ugly child, Omi, they see Mama sitting at the table with Suna and Osamu busy by the stove.

“Kiyoomi-kun’s only been here ten minutes and you’re already arguing with him,” she says with a sigh, sending a disapproving look at Atsumu as they sit down on the opposite side of the table.

“He was insultin’ me!” he defends, throwing his arms up in the air.

“I bet it was for a good reason.”

Sakusa nods. “It was, E- Emiko-san.” He looks down at the table when he says her name, and Atsumu swears he sees a light blush on his cheeks. Cute.

“He was chatting shit about the photos of me by the stairs,” he sulks, avoiding the resulting thoughts of whatever that was. Suna laughs.

“Was it the one with the bad haircuts?”

Mama presses a hand to her cheek in reminiscence, a light smile on her face. “Oh Gods, that photo. Atsumu cried for a week after, complaining about how he’d make no friends looking like that; we didn’t let their father cut their hair again.”

“That was probably a good decision,” Sakusa says, clearly happy with the topic of conversation. He never turns down an opportunity to insult him, the asshole.

Mama nods with a quiet hum, then her eyes brighten a little as she focuses in on him. “So, Kiyoomi-kun, where’re you from?”

He sits up a little straighter, and Atsumu realises that maybe he’s just as nervous as himself about all of this. Probably more nervous, now that he really thinks about it. He hadn’t put much thought into how scary it must be to spend so long with people he’s never really met.

“Tokyo: I lived in the same house until I moved to university.”

“Oh wow! I’ve only been to Tokyo once, at Christmas – it was lovely there. Very different to this place, though I’m sure you’ve already figured that one out,” she laughs. “What did you study? I remember Atsumu complaining for weeks after he found out you weren’t going straight into the V-Leagues.”

“Mama!”

“For weeks? More like months,” Osamu pipes in, turning away from whatever he’s making for lunch. “Gods, he was so annoying, Sakusa.”

“I was tempted to get Komori to force you to drop out,” Suna adds. Atsumu decides he hates his family, and he wishes he had never come back.

Sakusa raises an eyebrow at him. “You did seem strangely happy when I joined the team.”

His face is way too hot. “What?! You’re good at volleyball, obviously I was gonna be annoyed that you were leaving to study; same goes for you joining the Jackals! This isn’t about me anyway, Mama asked you a question, prick.”

He huffs out a small breath and it takes him a moment to realise it’s a short little laugh. His stomach swoops and he stands up to go peek at whatever Osamu’s making – he didn’t think he was that hungry.

“I studied biology and Japanese Literature,” Sakusa answers as Atsumu looks over the pot of rice that’s cooking. “I also took a few astrophysics classes over the years.”

“Tsumu told me you’re interested in stars, but he didn’t mention the other things. I’ve always liked the night sky myself; painting it helps me clear my mind, y’know,” Mama says, happy to be speaking about something she loves. “How did you get into astrophysics?”

Osamu shoves Atsumu away from the food and he yelps, rushing back over to his seat so that his brother can’t hit him. “His aunt teaches it at a university and he used to read all her books about stars and stuff when he was a kid,” he answers for him, purely so that he doesn’t have to listen to Osamu yell at him. “Oh, that reminds me, I was gonna tell you about this book he has with a bunch of pictures of constellations and stuff, cuz I thought it would be good inspiration for ya, but I guess since he’s here he can do that himself, right Omi-kun?”

Sakusa’s eyes go a little wider than usual. Is he shocked? Gods, he swears everyone thinks he doesn’t pay attention to anything even though he’s actually a good listener. He’s one of the most observant people he knows, aside from Bokuto, and he’s pretty good at reading people too.

“I would be happy to,” he says, nodding.

“Aw, that’d be—” Mama is interrupted by a loud bark. All of their heads turn to the sliding glass doors, on which Adzuki is leaning her front two paws and yapping excitedly, tail wagging back and forth behind her.

“I think she’s spotted ya, Omi-Omi,” he laughs, walking over to the door and taking hold of the handle. “Brace yourself.” He opens it.

Adzuki sprints into the room, slipping on the floor in her frantic attempt to get to Sakusa as fast as she possibly can, and she jumps up at him, practically begging him for a hug. This is the first time that Atsumu sees Sakusa Kiyoomi’s eyes sparkle.

He rubs at her head and behind her ears, saying hello to her in that same high-pitched voice that everyone is unable to resist using when speaking to a dog. She barks in response as if saying hi back.

This is the first time that Atsumu hears Sakusa Kiyoomi laugh. It’s more than a puff of air, more than a simple hah! It’s a proper laugh, and it causes his heart rate to speed up ever-so-slightly; he can’t believe he’s been missing out on this for so long.

It takes Adzuki a while to get tired of playing and move on from Sakusa to go lay down, but once she does, he makes his way upstairs to unpack his things and Atsumu flops down on the sofa, tired from the long drive and the onigiri Osamu made for lunch. He stays there for a few hours, as far as he’s aware, just scrolling through his phone, and eventually decides to post something, looking through his camera roll. There’s not really much on there other than selfies, which he’s not really in the mood to post right now, and then he spots a photo Suna sent him while they were all eating: it’s Sakusa, mid-laugh, while Adzuki has her paws over his shoulders in a hug that she has somehow learnt to do over the years.

He thinks on it for a few minutes before remembering that yesterday, Suna had posted a collection of photos he had taken throughout the day, including the one he took at the tire-swing on their dog walk. Atsumu had woken up to see comments tagging him, saying that he was so photogenic and so pretty; it’s always a nice ego boost. Though… if he posted this photo, it wouldn’t exactly draw in compliments for himself, but it is too good of a photo to just keep to himself. Some Sakusa fangirl out there will probably be very happy to see it.

He posts the photo, adding the caption ‘look who’s joined us for our summer break back in Hyogo!’ and then shoves his phone on the side table and buries his face in the pillow beneath him. He’s tired, and maybe if he’s asleep, Sakusa won’t wake him up to shout at him.

Chapter Text

Atsumu is sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee the next morning when Sakusa walks in fully dressed and ready for the day to begin. Honestly, he’s disappointed, since he was looking forward to seeing him all dishevelled. It’s not often he gets to see him like that.

“Mornin’,” he says, putting his phone face-down on the table. “Want some cereal? Or uh, toast? I’m not good with breakfasts.”

Sakusa raises an eyebrow at him – maybe because he’s still in his pyjamas and hasn’t done anything with his hair yet – and then nods, taking the seat beside him. “Whatever you’re having is fine. I’m not fussy.”

He snorts. “Omi-kun, not fussy; never thought I’d hear that in the same sentence.” He stands up and walks over to one of the cupboards, pulling out a bowl, then pauses. “You want some coffee?”

“Yes,” he says, and then a second later, “thank you.”

He nods and pulls out a mug, busying himself with prepping the ever-so-fancy meal and ignoring his hesitance. “So, uh,” he yawns, “I was thinkin’ we could take Zuki for a walk round town today, y’know, us and Samu and Sunarin. It’s a nice day and it’ll give me the chance to show you around, yeah?”

“Are they even awake yet?” he asks, eyeing the stairs. Atsumu grins.

“No way, Samu’s even worse with mornings than you, Omi-Omi. We’ll set off a bit later; Adzuki doesn’t really care when she goes for a walk as long as she gets one, and she’s tirin’ herself out in the garden now anyway.”

“What will we do while we wait?”

“I dunno, talk? Like normal people? Or are you already tired of me, Omi-kun?” he pouts, turning around to face him. He rolls his eyes.

“I ought to be,” he says, then looks to the counter. “I can do that myself, you know.”

“It’s alright. I’ve gotta be a good host somehow. I’ll wait until tomorrow to make you do everything, then you can make me breakfast too.”

“In your dreams, Atsumu.”

Oh. Huh. That’s the first time he’s said his name so far. His actual, given name. It sounds… nice, coming out of his mouth. Like it was meant to be spoken by him. Weird.

“Oh definitely. I dreamt of you making me breakfast last night, Omi-kun. You brought it to me when I was still in bed, and then fed me strawberries,” he jokes, putting a hand to his chest to really sell himself. Sakusa glares at him.

“Yeah, you keep dreaming of that, because it’s never happening.”

He laughs, then picks up the cereal and coffee and passes them to him, grabbing his own things and taking them to the sink. “Here ya go, your highness. I’ll let you eat in peace while I go get ready, then I’ll be back to annoy you.”

“Wow, so kind of you,” he deadpans, and it just makes him laugh even more.

Their walk starts just before noon, the other two having finally woken up. Atsumu takes a few deep breaths before they set off, because for some reason his mind has decided to be annoyingly nervous about whether or not Sakusa will like it here. Yesterday was a lot for him, he knows that, so he just wants today to go well, for him to have fun and relax and feel comfortable. Plus, he’s excited to go around with Osamu and Suna again too.

“Alright, Omi-kun, you can hold Adzuki’s lead if ya want. She doesn’t pull too much unless she gets excited,” he says, holding it out for him as the four of them stand in the driveway. Sakusa hesitates for only a second before he takes it and looks down at the dog staring up at him with her tongue hanging out of her mouth.

“Hmm, so which infamous place are we gonna take you to first?” Suna says once they’ve started walking away from the house, eyebrows drawn in.

“How about the place Tsumu got punched in the face as a kid?” Osamu suggests, and before Atsumu can shout at him, Suna pipes in with another suggestion.

“Oh, or the place that he broke that guy’s nose in second year.”

“Or—”

“SHUT IT!” he yells before they can reveal any more embarrassing stories or facts that Sakusa doesn’t need to know. “We’re goin’ everywhere. We’ll just walk into town and see what happens, assholes.”

Osamu grins, moving next to him for a brief second. “Don’t worry Sakusa, there’s probably a story about Tsumu everywhere. You’ll have plenty of material to mock him with.”

“Oh, for sure, and I’ve got a photo album filled with photos and videos of him that he doesn’t want anyone to see. I’ve also got one for Osamu, if you’re interested.”

“Rin? I thought we were makin’ fun of Atsumu, not me too!”

Suna grins. “You were wrong.”

Sakusa glances at Atsumu, who feels completely betrayed at all the information being spread around so quickly, then looks back to Suna. “You will definitely have to show me that later. I’m sure the others would be glad to see them.”

“No way,” he interrupts. “Shoyo or Wan-san will post them online and I’ll never live it down. My career will be over!”

“Is there supposed to be a negative to that?”

Osamu snickers and Atsumu remembers that he hates him. “I think we’re gonna get along great, Sakusa.”

They start off, as Atsumu said, by walking through the town. They go past the park he and Osamu used to play at when they were little – which is also coincidentally where he was punched in the face – and they go past their old primary school, where he relays the story of the time Osamu fell off the monkey bars and cried for an hour. Next is the library which, yes Omi-kun, I spent a lot of time in, and the old record shop that the three of them and Aran used to hang out in every weekend. It’s only really once they’ve circled the whole town and Sakusa has been sufficiently filled up with knowledge about their lives that Atsumu decides, while the two of them are standing outside the old corner shop and waiting for the others to buy some snacks, that he wants to show Sakusa the tire swing. He still maintains that it’s not the most special place back home, but… well, something doesn’t have to be in the top three to mean something to you.

“Did you really break someone’s nose?” Sakusa asks after a couple minutes of silence, looking up from where Adzuki is sniffing some plants by the shop door. He winces.

“Yeah. I uh, got in a lot of fights in high school. People were assholes and so was I, plus I was kinda goin’ through a lot.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, that’s why I was on close watch in first year, if you remember that. They couldn’t deny that I was good at volleyball, but… they were worried about me getting into fights with the others there. Honestly, I might have if Aran wasn’t there,” he says, scratching at the back of his head.

“Did they deserve it?”

“Huh?”

“Did the people deserve it? The ones you got into fights with?”

Ah. “Sometimes. The guy with the broken nose did; he was shouting slurs at a girl in my class, and yeah, I’m a dick, but I’m not gonna sit there and listen to some homophobe. There were a few times though where people just… got on my nerves or were being casual pricks, but they didn’t deserve to be hit. I mean, it’s not like I’m proud of it, but—”

“You don’t need to defend yourself,” Sakusa interrupts, still looking down at Adzuki. “I was just interested. Honestly, I never really thought of you fighting anyone other than your brother.”

He smirks. “Oh, don’t worry, that happened a lot too, but the majority of it was just in good fun, y’know? Gods, Sunarin used to post videos of us fighting on Instagram; sometimes he’d sell photos to the fangirls at school,” he laughs, rolling his eyes. “They’re probably on his blackmail folder too. I remember one time we came in late after a dentist appointment, and Sunarin and Gin were doin’ like, back-alley trades behind the fucking stairs.”

His eyes raise. “People paid for that?”

“Right? Shit’s crazy, but I made them buy me meat-buns for a week, so it wasn’t so bad,” he says with a shrug. “Have you got any dumb stories from high school?”

He groans. “I should’ve known you were going to ask that.” He hesitates, then averts his eyes, the tips of his ears turning just slightly red.

“Oh shit, you do! You’ve gotta tell me Omi-Omi, or I’ll find some awful pic of you and post it everywhere.”

He glares at him for a moment before looking back to the ground. “My first date was at the library; Motoya convinced me to go, saying it would be good experience if nothing else. We barely spoke to each other the whole time though, just sat there reading, and then he tried to kiss me at the end, and I screamed and ran away.”

“Oh my Gods.”

“It wasn’t my finest moment,” he mumbles, embarrassment clear on his face. He takes a strand of his hair and pulls it down over his moles and eye; it goes straight only to bounce back up again as soon as he lets it go. Cute.

Atsumu shuffles closer from where he’s leaning against the wall beside him, leaning over to meet his eyes. “Do you always scream when someone tries to kiss ya?”

He frowns at him, then crouches down to stroke at Adzuki’s head. “No, obviously not. I’ve gotten much better since then with my anxieties, and also… I haven’t gone on any more dates with people I wasn’t interested in.”

“Damn. So, who have you kissed?” he asks, curiosity pushing at his chest. It’s probably just because he barely even lets people touch him, but he really can’t imagine him kissing anyone.

“Why do you want to know?” he counters, eyebrows furrowed in suspicion, and it pushes a little bubble of laughter out of him.

“Just interested, Omi-Omi. I wanna know who managed to push past that brick wall you’ve got up.”

His eyes seemingly glue onto the dog in front of him who looks between them, oblivious. He stays quiet for a few moments, debating with himself whether or not he should reveal it. “Wakatoshi-kun,” he murmurs. Atsumu manages to pick it up.

“Holy shit.”

“We met up shortly after his graduation, and it was just a… heat of the moment thing at the train station when he was leaving. Nothing really came out of it; he was moving away, and I didn’t really want a relationship at the time,” he explains, and Atsumu’s smile grows.

“I can’t believe you kissed fuckin’ Ushijima. Was he your first kiss?” he asks, aware that he’s being nosey but not caring enough to stop. He can’t believe this. Sakusa Kiyoomi kissed Ushijima Wakatoshi. Holy fuck.

“Yes. Like I said, it’s not a big deal.”

“Damn. My first kiss was a girl who cleaned tables and shit with me at the diner I worked at in my second year,” he says, sighing. “I wish it was someone as wild as fuckin’ Ushiwaka. Though I guess my second kiss is a bit bigger: it was Kita-san.”

Sakusa’s eyebrow raises. “Your second-year captain?”

He nods, thinking back on it. They dated for a couple weeks, and then decided that it wasn’t working and they would rather just be friends, so they called it off; it was a lot simpler than some of his other relationships over the years. “It wasn’t really anythin’ serious, just a little crush kind of. Samu always says I’ve got a thing for clean people… I dunno what he means by that, but whatever I guess.”

His other eyebrow raises, both disappearing behind his hair and his mouth opening just slightly, but before he can say anything, the other two finally come out of the shop with a bag of drinks and snacks.

“Alright, where to next?”

They sit in the field until the evening comes, Atsumu laying out a picnic blanket for the four of them – specifically Sakusa, since the rest of them have never cared all that much about sitting on the grass – and trying to stop Osamu and Suna from relaying every single embarrassing thing he did here on their graduation night. He does not succeed, but when he sees Sakusa laugh again, he decides it’s not too bad, even if he’s probably judging him for the several bad choices he’s made over the course of his life so far.

“Why would you mix vodka and beer together? What sense does that even make?” he asks, incredulous, and Atsumu throws his hands in the air.

“I don’t know! I was bored of always havin’ the same drinks, and they were just the first two bottles I saw,” he says, thinking back to how disgusting it was.

“He ran away and vommed in the trees straight after,” Osamu laughs.

“I have a photo of it,” Suna says with an evil smile, slowly holding up his phone. Atsumu jumps at him.

“STOP!”

“Alright, fine, I won’t show him! Get off me, asshole!” he laughs, pushing at him until he rolls off and onto his back, half on the blanket, half on the grass.

“You two did embarrassin’ shit too, I don’t know why you’re only laughing at me,” he cries, folding his arms behind his head. “Samu started crying about everyone separating, and Sunarin tried to spike a volleyball but ended up fallin’ on his butt and rolling down the hill.”

“You tried to climb the tree after vomitin’ and then fell off it, prick,” Osamu argues, and it sets Suna off cackling.

“Oh Gods, and he cut—” he gasps for air, “he cut himself, and started wailing when he saw the blood. He said the tree was gonna become a vampire because it had tasted him, and he’d never be able to come back here.”

They all burst into laughter, and it strikes Atsumu that this is the happiest he’s been in a while. He loves it in Osaka, loves his friends and his apartment, especially Bokuto and Shoyo, but… it will never top what it’s like being here, with his best friends in the whole world, not having to think about anything serious and not having to think about the future. The only thing that matters is whatever’s happening right now, and he couldn’t be happier that these are the people he’s with. Would it feel strange if Sakusa weren’t here too?

He opens his eyes to see the man in question bent over him, looking down at him, and his arm loosens around his stomach from where he was clutching at his shirt through the laughter as he realises that it might have been Sakusa that was missing from last night. It’s weird how much he seems to fit in perfectly here, like he was always meant to be here with them. With Atsumu.

“Omi-kun,” he greets, smiling up at him. “You wanna see the scar I got from the tree?” He tilts his head further back, closing his eyes to block out the sun, and points to the corner of his jaw where he knows the faint scar resides. It’s odd how at ease he feels around him, how he’s felt that comfort for so long now. Even whenever they’re in the middle of an argument, he’s still glad to be around him, like he brings him some sense of home. “The branch scraped it when I was falling.”

“You’re an idiot, Atsumu,” he teases.

“Says you.”

And then suddenly, like a feather, he feels delicate fingers touch the small scar, and his eyes snap back open. Holy fucking fuck. “I always thought this was from a dumb fight with Osamu-kun. Or one of those other people, I suppose.”

“Nah, he’s got a couple scars on his hands from those ones,” Osamu says, grin obvious in his voice, and it’s obvious he isn’t looking at them right now because there is no way that he and Suna wouldn’t be giggling together, making fun of how red his face must be. Sakusa Kiyoomi is touching him, pressing his fingers gently to the small strip of lighter skin that decorates his jaw, and his heart is beating a million miles per hour.

He clears his throat, pretty sure that if he didn’t, his voice would break as soon as he opens his mouth. “Don’t worry, Omi, if the tree attacks you, I won’t let it drink any of your blood.”

Sakusa smiles, small and light, and presses hard, pushing his face away and sitting back up straight. “I don’t think that will happen, don’t worry,” he teases. Atsumu pushes up, leaning on his elbows and looks at him, trying to swallow down whatever feeling is rising in his throat.

“Ya never know. Vampires are sneaky.”

“I hope a vampire kills you,” Suna says, and the strange new energy which had been lacing the air around them dissipates as quickly as it had descended.

Atsumu lays there reeling for a moment before snapping, “I hope a vampire kills you!” He doesn’t really know what just happened, but of course Suna had to go and make sure he never finds out. The prick.

They head home not long after that, Atsumu giving Adzuki some fresh water and her dinner as soon as they’re in, and despite not wanting to leave Sakusa and Suna alone after the latter’s earlier threats, he joins Mama and Osamu in cooking yakitori and some rice for them to all have, since they’ve not really had a proper meal since breakfast – if cereal even counts as that.

Once they’re finished, they all decide to move outside to eat, Sakusa helping Atsumu to set the picnic table while Suna grabs some glasses and juice. It doesn’t take too long, and throughout the meal, they tell Mama about their day, her unfortunately adding onto the stories with even more embarrassing information about him that can only be karma for something he’s done in his life.

They finish eating pretty quickly, the four of them starving from being out all day, and they move to the living room once the summer-night breeze starts to settle in and being outside becomes too cold.

“Alright, Kiyoomi-kun, would ya like to pick the movie? Choose wisely, or Atsumu’ll never let you be in charge again,” Mama says, sinking into her armchair. He looks at him and he grins.

“She’s not wrong.”

Osamu, who’s sat beside Suna on the other sofa, nods. “I’m trustin’ you to have good taste.”

Sakusa takes the remote from Atsumu, placing himself down beside him on their own sofa, and scrolls through their options for a couple minutes, ignoring the twins’ bickering about nothing in the background, and eventually decides on Moana. Suna groans and Atsumu cheers.

“Thank the Gods for Omi-Omi. I swear, if I had to sit through the fuckin’ Matrix again I would literally cry,” he says, relaxing further into his seat.

“Oi, what’s wrong with The Matrix?” Osamu defends.

“You do pick it every time,” Suna points out, and Atsumu nods frantically.

“It’s boring at this point.”

“Wha—”

“Atsumu, stop bitchin’. You’ll fall asleep halfway through anyway,” Mama says. “Osamu, you need to watch some more movies. Rintarou, you’re perfect and I love you. Kiyoomi-kun, good movie choice.”

Atsumu brings his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, muttering to himself that he’s not going to fall asleep.

He falls asleep.

He wakes up to the dim light of one of the lamps at the other side of the room, the main light having been turned off while he was still fighting off sleep, and someone gently taps his upper arm. He blinks his eyes open, adjusting to the world around him, and looks down at the hand. His eyes flit the other way then to whatever his head is leaning on, and he sees Sakusa peering down at him. Oh shit. He fell asleep on his shoulder. He pulls away at record speed.

“Oh my Gods, Omi-Omi, I’m so sorry, I—” he rushes to say, tripping over his words in his attempt to apologise as fast as possible for touching him. “You should’ve just pushed me away, or—”

“It’s fine, Atsumu. I don’t mind,” he interrupts, voice quiet and calm, and he realises there’s no one else in the room. He doesn’t mind?

“But—”

“Seriously, calm down,” he says, avoiding his gaze. “If I was uncomfortable, I would have moved you. I… wasn’t, though.”

Oh. What? That’s… unexpected. What? “O-Okay. So, uh, you’re okay now? With touching me?”

Sakusa turns his head away slightly, pulling at the hem of his shirt. “It’s hard to explain. The more comfortable I become around people and the more time I spend in close quarters with them, the less anxious I feel about… touch and stuff.”

“Oh.” He swears there isn’t a single thought in his head that isn’t oh.

“For example, over the past few months I have gradually gotten to know you better and have discovered that you’re not so unhygienic.”

Atsumu frowns. “You only just realised that?”

He puffs out one of his little, breathy laughs. “No. I just understand your routine more which puts me more at ease. Plus… you’re always extra careful with hygiene around me, so I feel more comfortable I suppose.”

Huh. “That’s, uh, cool. I’m glad.” He didn’t think hearing Sakusa say that he trusted him would make him feel so happy, but he can’t really stop himself from smiling.

He rolls his eyes. “Come on, it’s late. Everyone else went to bed about five minutes ago.”

He yawns, eyes watering a little from it, and stands up, suddenly being hit with a wave of exhaustion. “You don’t realise how tiring volleyball is until you stop for a while,” he jokes, following Sakusa to the stairs.

“I suppose. Bokuto mentioned you’ve been having trouble sleeping recently as well though, and you’ve been driving a lot which you’ve not done for a while, so those probably factor into it as well,” he says, turning off the lamp as they pass it. Atsumu checks that the front door’s locked on the way.

“Yeah, I guess.”

They stop outside of the guest bedroom. “Don’t stay up all night watching Dance Moms clips.”

Atsumu grins, sleepy. “You know me too well, Omi-Omi.”

“I’m serious.”

“I won’t. I’m exhausted.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Night, Omi.”

That night, he dreams of vampires and curly black hair and some weird pill that turns him into Moana.

The next day, he wakes up at noon, confusion swirling around in his sleep-fogged mind at whatever that dream was. When he opens his eyes, he sees the ocean staring right back at him, and the dream is forgotten about entirely; he’d forgotten to close his curtains last night. How has he never, in all the years he lived in this room, always remembered to close them? He’s been missing out, he thinks.

He gazes outside for a few minutes, zoning out into the sleep that still clings at him, and then he sits up properly and remembers the events of yesterday. Sakusa had touched him. More than once. He’d said he was comfortable around him, and he touched his dumb little scar and let him sleep on his shoulder. He’d laughed, too, and smiled. In just two days, a whole new side to him has been shown already… and Atsumu really likes it. It feels as if he’s finally starting to put all the puzzle pieces together after all these years and he’s seeing the full image now, clear and amazing and whole.

He shakes his head of the thoughts of Sakusa – he’s really not used to thinking about him this much – and gets up to stumble into the shower. He’s not got any plans for the day, but he figures he might as well clean himself up so that, if not for anything else, his house guest can feel more comfortable around him.

He changes into a t-shirt and sweats once he’s done, and when he gets downstairs and into the kitchen doorway, he sees Mama and Sakusa sitting at the table together, the former telling him about her paints and the art-pieces she keeps in her workshop. Atsumu’s always loved her art room with the secret entrance under the stairs and a door beside the shelves of paints that leads to the garden. He used to sit in there with her whenever he fell out with Osamu, doing his homework while she sketched out ideas. The look in Sakusa’s eyes, completely focused on her words, creates a funny little feeling in his stomach that he can’t put a name to.

He traipses to the cupboards and grabs a glass, filling it with water.

“Morning,” Mama teases when he turns around, leaning against the counter and looking at them. There’s a couple of her sketch books laying on the table. “There’s some tamagoyaki in the fridge that we had for breakfast, if ya want some.”

He perks up and hurries to the fridge, searching for the plate of food.

“I can’t believe you always hassle me for not being a morning person. I woke up three hours ago,” Sakusa says, watching him move around the kitchen with a practiced ease. He heats up the leftovers in the microwave, then moves to sit beside him.

“Well, Omi-kun, my beauty sleep is important,” he says after swallowing his first bite, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, you say that, but it doesn’t look like it’s done you much good.”

Damn. Fake friend. “Where’s Sunarin? I like him better than you.”

Mama rolls her eyes too. Oh Gods, he’s rubbing off on her already. “In the livin’ room. Stop being mean to Kiyoomi-kun.”

“Wha— he started it!” he cries, throwing his spare hand out.

“Well, he’s not the host, is he?” she says, and he knows she’s messing with him but damn, she’s fake too.

“I’m goin’ to play videogames with Sunarin. Maybe he’ll be nice to me,” he cries, standing up and swallowing down the rest of his food, hungrier than he thought he was. He carries the empty plate and glass to the sink, quickly washes them, and places them on the drying rack, humming to himself instead of paying attention to the conversation the other two have gone back to, Sakusa asking a question about one of Mama’s drawings.

He's on his way out, tucking his chair back under the table, when without really thinking about it he lifts two fingers and pokes both of Sakusa’s moles. Like an idiot. He looks up, eyes big and questioning.

“Shout me if ya need anything. I’ll be in my room,” he says, and before he can even nod in response, he leaves the room and bombards Suna, dragging him upstairs to go play Mario Kart on his switch; it doesn’t really take much though since he’s got nothing to do and Osamu’s at the restaurant today. Plus, losing at coconut mall gives him plenty of time to ask himself what the hell he was thinking poking Sakusa’s moles. Idiot.

The day passes pretty quick after that, Atsumu playing different games with Suna and them making fun of each other for being bad at them; they never really got the hang of them like they did with volleyball, no matter how much they played.

Once they get bored of that, they resort to just sitting there for a while, showing each other tiktoks and laughing over stories about their respective teammates. He has way too much fun relaying the story of when Shoyo fell over so badly that he somehow got tangled up in the net – it got to the point that almost the whole team had to help get him out.

It's almost five when they leave his room, Suna going out to take Adzuki for a walk and to meet Osamu by Onigiri Miya, and Atsumu goes downstairs to see what the other two are up to. He’s humming to himself and peeking through the doors when he enters the kitchen and sees Mama and Sakusa sitting outside, both with easels in front of them. The former’s painting looks much nicer than the latter’s, and it makes him laugh a little.

He traipses over to them and rests his chin over her shoulder. “Your one looks much better, Mama,” he says with a grin, looking over the beautiful painting of the ocean view.

“Don’t be mean. Kiyoomi-kun’s never painted before,” she scolds, but there’s a small smile on her face that shows she appreciates the compliment… and he’s also pretty sure that she’s been teasing him too. He turns to look at Sakusa and his heart stops.

There he is, sitting on the chair beside her, glaring at him, and he looks exactly like he always does except for the little fox clips pinning his hair back from his forehead, and it is the cutest thing he has ever seen in his life ever. He can’t even pretend not to think it or ignore the way his heart seems to be trying to break through his ribs, because he just looks that adorable. Atsumu had been given those clips by some girl in high school if he remembers right and he’d given them to Mama when he got home since he figured she would be able to find some use for them. It’s in this moment that he decides he is so very glad that he didn’t just throw them out.

“Omi-Omi, oh my Gods,” he breathes, taking the few steps needed to get close to him, and he bends over to look upside-down at his face. “You look incredible.” He grins, glad to be teasing him, even if he’s also being very much serious.

Sakusa looks away from him, cheeks dusting with pink, and it just makes him even cuter. “Shut up. My hair was in my face.”

He hums, then stands up straight and moves to lay on the picnic table bench just a couple feet away from them. “You should wear them at our matches,” he suggests. They’d be good at keeping his hair out of his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to keep blowing it away.

“Yeah, because you’d have a field day with that,” he says, and he doesn’t need to look to know that he’s rolling his eyes.

“Oh definitely. Your fangirls would love it too, I bet,” he laughs, looking up at the sky. “Bokkun would probably cry.”

“Aw, I miss Koutarou,” Mama sighs then. “How is he? He knows he’s always welcome here, doesn’t he?”

“Geez, yes Mama. Sometimes I think you’d rather see him than me,” he fake cries, eyes focusing on the clouds above him. Some of them look like flowers and one even looks a bit like a volleyball… or maybe he’s just experiencing withdrawal symptoms. He wouldn’t be surprised by that. And then an image of Dad pops into his head out of nowhere, complaining about how he’s never satisfied with anything, always too needy. He tries to shake it away. The bastard always appears in his thoughts when he least expects it.

“Not true, Tsumu, I just think ya could bring him over more when you come to visit,” she says, smile evident in her voice.

“It’s okay, Emiko-san, I like Bokuto more than Atsumu as well,” Sakusa says then, and he bolts upright to see him smirking at him.

“That’s not true, liar,” he argues, no actual bite to his words. “You don’t let Bokkun touch ya.”

“You don’t know that.”

His heart breaks. “Huh?! Damn, ya think you’re special….”

Sakusa shakes his head and turns back to his easel, unaware of the slight torment that seems to be building suddenly in Atsumu’s mind, and glances at Mama’s for reference. Honestly, his painting isn’t even that bad really – it just needs more technique with the blending. He likes it.

“I’m joking, Atsumu,” Sakusa says after a moment, and it breaks him out of the thoughts swirling around in his head. How?

“Oh.” He feels his face heat up.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Atsumu and Sakusa spend most of their time just relaxing around the house, talking about random things, finding out information about each other that they’d never even thought of before in relation to them, and taking Adzuki out for walks to the tire swing and around town and even through the forest trail a couple of times. It’s weird, but in a good way, because he never really expected to find himself in a situation that involved his old nemesis staying with him for their short summer break. He finds that he likes it though, spending time with Sakusa and properly getting to know him, getting to understand him. The thing is, once he gets comfortable somewhere, Sakusa really starts to open up: it’s crazy how much he’s seen him laugh this week.

Another thing that takes him by surprise is the touching. As the days go on, Sakusa begins to touch him more and more, whether it’s just brushing shoulders with him on their walks or pushing him away when he annoys him. It’s all just small things, but it emboldens Atsumu to try touching him more too, especially since he’s always been a physically affectionate person. It feels like he can be more himself too, when he’s not putting so much focus into avoiding any kind of touch between the two of them. He pokes him when he’s bored, taps him to get his attention, brushes his fingers with him when passing things to him… though, the last thing always makes his stomach a little fluttery.

It's on the seventh day of him being at the Miya residence, once Osamu and Suna return from visiting the latter’s family in Nagoya, that they all decide to spend the afternoon at the beach. Atsumu realises that it’s going to be the first time he’d been there since he last visited home, and it takes him by surprise, because this is one of his special, favourite places. It takes Sakusa so long to get ready that he ends up practically dragging him out the door, but like… without touching him. He’s still getting used to being allowed to do that.

“We’re almost there!” he shouts after a couple of minutes, walking backwards so that he’s facing the three of them.

“We were almost there at home: it’s a five-minute walk. You’re hurtin’ my head, Tsumu,” Osamu complains, leaning on Suna – he clearly wasn’t happy about having to wake up so early this morning to get the train back. He sticks his tongue out at him.

“Don’t care, wake up,” he says, flicking the top of his head and jumping away before he can retaliate. “We’ve got a fun day ahead of us and I’m not letting ya ruin it, Samu.”

“I’ll hit you.”

“Maybe it’ll wake you up a bit.”

“Ya wanna test it out?”

Suna pulls out his phone. Sakusa rolls his eyes and grabs Atsumu by the arm, pulling him further away from his brother. “I can’t believe I’m going to have to be the parent today.”

“I mean… you could just let them fight,” Suna suggests, phone still out like he’s hoping one of them will lunge for the other.

“Then we’ll have to listen to them whine all day,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s more trouble than the amusement’s worth.”

He sighs. “Damn, alright Sakusa, if you’re sure. Atsumu looks great with a bleeding nose, though.”

“Aww, Sunarin. I knew you loved me.”

“Rin!”

“What? You always cry when you get properly hurt, loser,” he shrugs, laughing when Osamu turns to him with the most heartbroken look on his face.

Atsumu laughs too, always more than happy to gang up on his brother with Suna – he’s so mean to him, he deserves it. “Get fucked, bitch baby.”

“I’ll drown you, prick,” he threatens, and before he can bite back, Sakusa groans and starts walking down the wooden steps on the edge of the road that leads down to the beach. He runs to catch up with him.

“Wait, Omi-kun, don’t leave me with him! He’s a psychopath.”

“Says you. You literally threatened me yesterday because I ate your last onigiri,” he says, raising an eyebrow at him.

Osamu jumps to defend him, suddenly back on his side. “You ate his last onigiri? That’s fucked, Sakusa.”

“Thank you! See? He gets it.”

“Can you go back to fighting?” Suna asks. Atsumu ignores him to instead jump over the last couple of steps and onto the sand, revelling in the feeling of it. He’s almost tempted to just fall back into it and make a sand-angel.

“Alright, follow us, Omi-Omi – we know the perfect place to sit,” he says, speeding up his pace to get there faster. He wants to get in the water ASAP.

“Is it less busy than this?” he asks, looking around them cautiously, almost looking nervous at the amount of people that are covering the beach. He smiles, hoping that it’s one of comfort, and pokes him.

“Definitely. No one ever goes there apart from us.”

Sakusa furrows his brows but doesn’t say anything, but he does shuffle in closer to him, as if to be protected in case a child comes sprinting into them. It reminds him of their meet-and-greets after matches.

It only takes them a couple minutes to get to their spot, especially with their quickened pace, and finally Atsumu stops and turns around to face Sakusa, gesturing at the view behind him. Sand coats the whole ground up to a cliff that goes pretty high up, and right atop it is the house. It always reminded him a bit of Ponyo.

“Secluded enough for ya, Omi-Omi?” he asks with a teasing smile. Barely anyone ever comes over here but when they do, they usually end up leaving pretty quickly when they realise how loud he and Osamu get.

“It’ll do,” he says, laying his towel down on the ground half in the shade and sitting on it. Atsumu grins, throws down his things beside him, and pulls off his shirt.

“Well, I’m goin’ swimming! Are you gonna come in?”

Sakusa looks away from him, instead watching as Osamu and Suna put their towels down just a few feet away from them. “No. The water is filled with fish pee and the Gods know what else.”

He snickers, only a little disappointed, and shrugs. “Alright, if you say so. I’d say it’s a lot cleaner than volleyball, but whatever, Omi-kun.” He turns, looking out dramatically at the water. “Today’s the day I get my penis back from that dolphin who stole it. I’m gonna find you dolphin, and I’m gonna steal your penis.”

“What?”

A single, high-pitched ‘hah!’ escapes from Suna’s mouth. “While that sounds like a great idea, what if instead we throw Samu in?”

His smile spreads wide, an evil glint in his eye, and he nods. “Fuck yeah.”

They both run at Osamu.

He gets out of the sea a bit later, when the sun is lower in the sky and a summer breeze is blowing its way across the beach, and he’s decided that he’s had enough of swimming around and hiding under the water to scare Osamu and Suna. He pushes his hair out of his eyes and flops down on the towel beside Sakusa, who lowers his book and turns to face him.

“Oh, what a shame, I was hoping your brother would have drowned you,” he says, eyes squinting slightly in an attempt to see him through the sunlight. Atsumu reaches for his t-shirt that he’d chucked off earlier and, grabbing the pair of sunglasses he’d had clipped onto the neck, leans over and places them carefully on Sakusa.

“I was hoping you would have been buried in the sand,” he counters, simpering at him and leaning his jaw on one hand. “Hm… maybe I should make you into a mermaid.”

“There is no way I’m letting you do that.” He shuffles a couple centimetres away as if it would stop him from throwing sand over him or tackling him.

“I have my ways, Omi-kun, you can’t stop me,” he says with a grin, moving to instead lean back on his hands, closing his eyes against the sky and soaking it all in. He used to come down here all the time, especially as a teenager, to just sit and think. It was one of the only places he ever went without Osamu.

There were a few instances even in winter when he got too fed up or tense being stuck in the house and would just run to sit by the waves, staying there until his face hurt from the cold and he couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers anymore, until he couldn’t even attempt to process a single thought, like his brain itself was frozen.

One day, when Mama and Dad were arguing so bad that he couldn’t think, he went downstairs and found Osamu sitting under the kitchen table, covering his ears and squeezing his eyes shut. He took his hand and walked them down to the beach and they sat up against the cliff face until it was dark and hunger was pulling at their stomachs. When they got back home, Dad was gone.

“It’s strange being at the beach without Hinata,” Sakusa’s voice breaks through his thoughts after what feels like hours. It’s probably just a couple of minutes though.

He raises an eyebrow, trying not to get carried away by the bad memories. “Have ya not been to one since we all went last time? He really beat your ass at volleyball there.”

“No, I’ve not. I’m not always too fond of the sand, and they’re usually overcrowded. And for the record, he beat all of us. He’s the only one who’s really had practice playing beach volleyball properly, I’ll remind you.”

He grins. “I was still better than you.” Then, feeling a little shy, he asks, “Do you like it here? On this beach?” It feels important to him, like a part of him might cry if he says no.

He’s quiet for a few moments, then he brings his book back up to his face, still wearing his sunglasses. “Yeah. I do.” He says it like it’s important to him, too.

The four of them stay there for a while longer, Atsumu letting Suna turn him into a sand mermaid when Sakusa refuses because he’s boring and a loser, and then jumping back into the sea with a graceful dive when he realises that the sand has stuck all over him. When he runs back out and over to them, shaking his wet hair over Sakusa, he sticks out his leg and Atsumu face-plants into the sand with a yelp; he has to go back into the sea.

By the time they get home it’s six, and Aran and Kita are already waiting for them in the living room, laughing about something with Mama. He and Osamu go running at Aran and force him into a hug, and while Sakusa and Suna take the first showers, they stand there and catch up with the two of them – Mama refuses to let them sit down until they’ve showered. It feels a bit like they’re teenagers again, even if the conversation has turned to one of farms and volleyball and restaurants. Osamu goes to shower when Suna gets out, and the four of them head outside and start on the bonfire.

Atsumu takes his time once Sakusa comes downstairs, spending longer than necessary to properly condition his hair and just think over how much he enjoyed today, how excited he’s been for tonight. It feels like forever since he last saw Aran and Kita, and well, with them hanging out now, everything feels complete. This is what home always has been for him: being with his best friends, with Mama and Adzuki, with bonfires and barbecues and the sea and air that’s so easy to breathe. Having Sakusa here is a bonus that he didn’t think would affect him so much.

He gets back outside about half an hour later wearing a pair of ripped jeans from a couple years ago that he just managed to pull over his since-bulked-up thighs and a white shirt that he’s left half-unbuttoned which honestly might have been Osamu’s once-upon-a-time. He tries not to overthink the way Sakusa watches him as he walks over, running a hand through his hair. Which, really, why is he even overthinking it? What is there to overthink? The fact that his friend has noticed he’s there? It’s not exactly some crazy big thing.

He sits down and accepts the drink that Suna passes him, looking over at Osamu, Mama, and Kita as they start on the barbecue. He pops off the top of the bottle on the side of the table and takes a sip, then winces. “Gods, I hate beer,” he hisses, holding it in front of him and looking at it with distain.

Sakusa raises an eyebrow. “Why are you drinking it then?”

“Don’t wanna waste money,” he says with a shrug, taking another regretful sip of it. “It’ll taste better the more I have, anyway.”

Aran sighs, standing up and taking the bottle from him. “There’re other drinks in the kitchen, y’know. Gimme that, I’ll have it, and I’ll go get you somethin’ else.”

Atsumu sends him his best puppy-dog eyes. “Aran, I love you so much.”

He rolls his eyes and walks away, and it strikes him that the majority of his friends use fond exasperation – or at least that’s what he likes to call it – as a love language with him. He decides that Bokuto is the only good person ever, because he’s pretty sure he’s one of the only people that are just nice to him.

Before he can start to get sad over missing his friend – you’re never satisfied Atsumu – Adzuki comes running over from where she was sniffing around the barbecue, ready to catch any bits of food that fall on the ground. He laughs and wraps his arms around her, resting his head against her stomach. “Zuki my beloved, my baby girl, what would I do without you?”

“Probably cry like a baby,” Suna suggests, and without moving his head, he glares at him.

“Sunarin, you were so nice to me earlier… what happened? Datin’ Samu changed you.”

“I just like to be mean: it’s fun. It’s even better when there’s someone to gang up on you with, like Sakusa,” he says, smiling innocently.

“Well, you must be ecstatic then,” he mocks, sitting back up straight and looking Adzuki in the eyes. His voice goes higher. “Sunarin’s a prick, isn’t he? Isn’t he? Yes, he is. Yes!”

“Okay come on, you’re just making it too easy to make fun of you.”

He lifts his head up, stroking behind her ears. “Sunarin, you’re an awful friend,” he whines, then turns to his right, “and Omi-kun! Why’re you just sittin—” He pauses. Sakusa’s watching him with a small smile that makes his brain freeze up, interrupted before he can even finish his sentence. It’s a smile he knows he’s never seen before, and he can’t place an emotion to it, but… it makes his stomach flutter. “What?”

He shrugs, turning back to the table, and he reaches for his glass of whatever he’s drinking. “Nothing,” he says, then takes a sip. Atsumu stares at him until Aran comes walking over with his preferred drink of highball and he grabs it off him, downing it in one. The three of them stare at him.

“What? I’ve not drank in forever,” he chokes out as an excuse, bolting out of his seat and to the kitchen to grab another can of highball and hopefully drink it slower this time. Considering how the sun’s getting lower in the sky, it is way too hot out there.

It’s after dinner, with their stomachs full of food and alcohol, all sat around the bonfire, that Kita turns to him, lips quirked in a smile, and asks the question he’s gotten embarrassingly used to hearing from his friends. “Will you get your guitar out, Atsumu?”

A light warmth spreads throughout his chest, happy that he wants to hear it enough that he asked. Guitar was always one of the things that he could be weirdly insecure about, especially when he played the few songs that he wrote himself. It feels more honest than anything else, he guesses. “Only if the others don’t mind.”

“Obviously not, dumbass,” Osamu says, nudging him. Sakusa tilts his head slightly.

“You play guitar?”

He nods, rubbing at his arm. “Yeah. I’ve got a guitar in Osaka, but my special one’s here… I didn’t want it to get damaged on the train rides back and forth.” He stands up and squeezes past the others. “I’ll go grab it.”

The walk up to his room only takes less than a minute, but when he’s up there, a wave of nostalgia hits him, one that he’d expected to be more prevalent when he first got here. He walks over and takes hold of the guitar, resting on its stand as always, covered in a thin layer of dust. He grabs the cloth he leaves on the shelf beside it and sits on his bed, running the fabric over the neck and the strings and all the stickers that cover its body, ones that he’s spent years collecting and adding. It feels weird holding it now.

It's older than the guitar he keeps in Osaka, a better make with a better sound, and it’s far more special to him. It’s been too long since he last came home, and even longer since he played it, even held it. He runs his fingers over the strings and revels in the sound they make, the perfect volume and the perfect sound, even if it’s horribly out of tune. He can still remember the look on Dad’s face when he used to play it, like it was sucking him in. Whenever he was in a good mood he would help Atsumu learn the chords, and when he did well, he would mess with his hair and tell him he was proud. It was one of the only times that he would think maybe he did like him.

He pulls the strap over his neck, angling it at a position so it doesn’t bash into anything as he walks, and leaves his room feeling like he’s about to tell a secret.

When he gets back outside, picking up a couple more cans of highball on his way, they all look at him with a weird sense of excitement that he feels bubble up in his gut too. He used to love this, sitting by a bonfire or on the beach, playing guitar and having the attention on him, having his friends see something in him that he struggled to say in normal conversations. No matter who it is, when he plays, people always look at him differently to how they do when he plays volleyball.

“Alright, I’ve got it,” he says, sitting back down on the end of the beach where he’d previously been sitting beside Osamu. “I’ve gotta tune it first, though,” he warns before any of them start interrupting with song suggestions. He plays the first string and winces at its sound, fiddling with the peg.

“How long have you been playing guitar?” Sakusa asks, sat beside Kita who he has decided is the most pleasant person here. He responds for him, knowing that he always finds it difficult to focus on tuning while talking to someone; it’s the same reason why he prefers silence when he serves.

“He started learning when he was in his first year at Inarizaki.”

Mama nods, looking at him with a quiet kind of fondness in her eyes. “He’s always had it… it was his dad’s.”

“Yeah, it was the one good thing he left,” Osamu says, annoyance clear in his voice. What about us? he jokes in his head.

“He started learning when he was gettin’ in all those fights and he got suspended,” Aran mentions, both sounding amused and disappointed in his actions. He looks up from the guitar, finished.

“I just took it and started strummin’ on it really hard cuz I didn’t have anything else to get my anger out on… I guess I just thought it would be a good release,” he says, picturing the look of content on Dad’s face whenever he so much as held it. He hadn’t touched it after he’d left until then. He looks from Sakusa to the stickers that decorate it. “I tried to remove anything that made it his.”

“Oh, Atsumu, play that one angsty song you used to play all the time,” Suna says then, obviously over with the conversation. He can’t say he disagrees. “Y’know, the one from the Ghibli movie?”

He raises an eyebrow. “There’re a lot of Ghibli movies, dumbass.”

Osamu flicks the top of his head. “He means Fine on the Outside. Y’know, the angsty one.”

Oh. He does love that song. “Isn’t it a bit heavy? I don’t wanna bring the mood down.”

“You won’t. It’s a nice one,” Kita says, smile still on his face.

“Alright, fine,” he sighs, bringing the capo down to the seventh fret and getting his fingers into position. He takes a deep breath and starts singing, and it’s an honesty that he’s never shown Sakusa, even when he mentioned Nan and Dad.

When he finishes the song, without even giving them time to comment – Sakusa specifically – he goes straight into Riptide, just for the lols. After that, he’s forced to subdue the ever-so-rare compliments from his friends and teammate, trying not to get too flushed or embarrassed, and accepts the requests they give him, all of them joining in to sing awful renditions of their favourite songs.

They go on for a while, and when his fingers start to hurt too much from playing for so long, he takes the guitar back up to his room and shotguns another highball, very much feeling the effects of the alcohol now. He’s sitting on his bed, sipping on a new – second – drink of vodka and coke, when Sakusa walks in and sits beside him.

“Omi-kun, havin’ fun?” he asks, grinning up at him and feeling a lot shorter than he knows he is. Probably because he’s leaning back.

He nods, cheeks a little flushed but not overly red; he’s only had one or two drinks. “It’s… a lot better than I was expecting.”

He hums, a little giggle bubbling out of his throat. “I knew ya’d have fun. You’re blushinggggg.”

He raises an eyebrow, taking hold of Atsumu’s fingers when he pokes at his two moles. “How much have you had to drink?”

He pouts, raising his other hand to poke at the moles; he grabs that too. “Not enough, Omi-Omi. Am I blushin’ too? Do I look as cute as you?”

He’s quiet for a couple seconds and then sighs. “I liked your guitar earlier. You have a lovely voice.”

His heart skips a beat in his chest, and he leans in a little, feeling off balance. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“You’re avoiding the compliments.”

He groans and in lieu of his leaning being ignored, flops back on his mattress, hands slipping out of his grasp. “Singing’s too honest… it’s different to talkin’ and volleyball. I don’t want compliments for feeling.”

“I’m not complimenting you on feeling, Atsumu,” he says, looking down at him. “I’m telling you that I like your voice, and that you’re talented.” He seems like he’s blushing more now, but he can’t tell if that’s just the lighting.

“Oh.”

He rolls his eyes.

Atsumu sits up then, feeling restless, and reaches over for his glass to take another sip. “I just realised you’ve not been in here yet.”

Sakusa blinks, then looks around at the room. He never really changed it much, not wanting to erase all the memories, good and bad, from his childhood room. Most of the same posters are up, most of the furniture is in the same place, the awards are where they always were. The main thing he changed was the bed. It felt… lonely, having a bunkbed for just one person.

“This was yours and Osamu-kun’s before he moved to the spare room, right?”

He nods, happy to hear he’s been listening, and looks at the door across the hall. “Yep. He wasn’t even that far away, but it felt like there was a whole rift separatin’ us. Anyway, I tried not to change too much about it.”

“It’s nice. It’s almost as childish as you.”

“Omi-kun! Shut it, prick,” he says, but there’s no bite to his voice, no anger in him. He swallows down the rest of his drink and stands up, only wobbling slightly. “Alright, let’s go back downstairs, yeah? You’re too pretty to be cooped up in a small room, Omi-Omi.” He’s always been told he gets annoyingly flirty when he drinks. He can never seem to stop himself. He hopes he isn’t annoying Sakusa.

“I don’t know,” he hums, standing up and taking hold of his bicep to steady him. “You look like you need water and sleep.”

He shakes his head and pulls his arm away, running to the stairs. He doesn’t even fall down them. “See? I’m perfectly fine! The night’s still young or whatever!”

He sighs but doesn’t protest and follows him back outside. As soon as the others see them, an arm is slung over his shoulder and he almost goes falling to ground. Sakusa doesn’t even help this time, just walks away to talk to the others.

“Atsumu, look,” Aran starts, looking him in the eyes, “I hate you. You’re so annoyin’. But I love ya, too. You and Osamu are my brothers, y’know? Even if you both make me wanna disappear forever.”

His eyes sting and he looks up at him. “Really? ARAN, I LOVE YOU TOO! I MISSED YA SO MUCH!”

The night continues on like that, Atsumu being too honest and too flirty, and it’s only at the end when Aran and Kita are about to leave that he decides fuck it and pulls out his phone.

“Right! I’ve kept this a secret for so long cuz I know you fuckers’ll just make fun of me for it, but I’ve got a scrapbook!” he yells, opening the camera app. “So, you’re all gonna take a photo with me so that I don’t forget ya when you all leave me behind!”

“Atsumu, we’re not—”

“Mama! Can you take the photo for me?” he asks, reaching his phone out to her. She takes it with a knowing smile and holds it up in their direction.

“For the record Tsumu, I told Rin about your book ages ago. He laughed for an hour,” Osamu says, and instead of attempting to fight him, Atsumu just moves to grab Sakusa’s hand – who’s standing awkwardly to the side – and pulls him in. Mama takes a couple photos, then tells them to do a different pose. Logically, he knows she’s probably taking so many because he looks awful right now, but he doesn’t even care, and so he swings his arms around Aran and Osamu’s shoulders with a grin. Mama snaps a few more pictures.

“There ya go, now let ‘em get home,” she says, moving to hug Aran and Kita goodbye before going back inside to check on Adzuki. Atsumu lets go and turns to them.

“I love you guys,” he says, pointing at the both of them. “Don’t leave me behind or I’ll, I dunno, punch ya.”

Osamu scoffs. “You wouldn’t dare punch Aran.”

Suna nods, elbowing him. “Or Kita.”

“Shhh, they don’t need to know that,” he whispers, finger to his lips.

“No one is going to leave you behind, Atsumu. Go get some sleep,” Kita says, looking to his side where he’s pretty sure Sakusa is.

His suspicions are confirmed when he speaks up, a hand landing on his shoulder. “Come on, you need water.” He’s pulled away by him to the kitchen before he can say anything else embarrassing.

“Omiii, I’m fineee,” he cries, practically being dragged away by the hand.

“No one believes that,” he says, then points to one of the seats at the kitchen table. “Sit down.” He sits down. Sakusa fills up a glass of water and puts it down in front of him.

“Drink.”

He drinks it, and then he refills it. “Hey, Omi, d’you like Osaka?”

He pauses, then turns around and puts the filled glass back on the table for him. “I suppose. I prefer it to Tokyo. Do you like it?”

He hesitates, really tries to think about it through the alcohol muddling his brain. “Yeah, I do, it’s just… sometimes I get really homesick, you know? You can’t see the stars so well there and there’s basically always noise.”

“I’m a lot more used to that, though, so it’s probably not comparable.”

He sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “I guess. I like my apartment, especially with all my plants and stuff, like, I can decorate it however I want! And I love the team so much, but….”

“It’s not your home,” he finished. Atsumu nods, fast and repeated.

“Yeah. This is home, this will always be home. Osaka’s, like, home, but not… home.”

“Right.” He studies him for a moment, eyes searching for something that Atsumu doesn’t know, then he frowns, just slightly. “Are you unhappy there?”

Oh. No, he doesn’t think so. Not at all. He shakes his head. “No… I just kinda always feel like I’m missing something. I guess maybe I never got used to bein’ without Samu, I dunno. Dad left when we were pretty young, but he used to say I wanted too much, like I was never satisfied; I think Osamu agreed with him. Maybe they were right.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting, Atsumu,” he says, and as always, the sound of his given name in his mouth sets his heart alight. There’s nothing wrong with wanting.

“Doesn’t wanting make me selfish though?” he asks, swallowing the rest of his water down. He’s always been selfish, he knows that, and he’s never cared much about it, but for some reason it matters with this. It makes him feel bad.

“I don’t see why,” he shrugs, taking the glass from him and putting more water in it. “So what if you’re selfish, anyway? It’s your life.”

Huh. He looks up from the tabletop to the pretty man standing across from him, curls bouncing over his forehead, over the two cute moles above his eyebrow. Being selfish is the one thing he never let himself have, let himself want. Wanting usually leads to ruining, so he never let himself want friends. He never let himself want people around him. Even with Dad, he spent so long refusing that he wanted him to come back. He’s too scared that being selfish with the important things will mean that he’ll lose them.

“I like that ya call me Atsumu now, Omi.” It makes him feel wanted. Did anyone ever want him? Did anyone ever feel selfish when they thought of him?

Pink mixes with red over his cheeks and on the tips of his ears and even after getting to know him so much better recently, it’s still such a new, odd look on him. It’s nice.

“Drink the rest of your water. I’ll help you to bed.”

He drinks the rest of it.

Sakusa walks him to his bedroom and turns way while he fumbles into his pyjamas, watches while he brushes his teeth, then helps him stumble into bed, and there’s something so domestic about it, something that makes him feel warm and happy.

“Thanks for helpin’ me Omi. You’re a lot nicer than ya let on, you know. I like that,” he says, fighting off a yawn as soon as his head hits the pillow, exhaustion suddenly grasping at him as if it’s radiating from his bedsheets.

“Says you.”

Oh. He thinks he’s nice? He buries the majority of his face under his duvet and looks up at him, studying the shape of his face. “Do you remember in second year at nationals when you called me an asshole, and I said you were one too?”

“Yes?”

“Well, I think we were right. We’re both assholes, but… it’s kinda different when we’re with each other, don’t you think?”

He looks down at him, eyebrow raised, and he looks so soft in the warm lighting of his bedside lamp, looks just as warm as he feels. “Sleep on your side so you don’t choke on your vomit,” he says, ruining the moment.

“You suck.”

“Says you.”

Chapter Text

Atsumu wants to die.

He wakes up to a severe pounding in his head and a feeling in his throat of something trying desperately to stay in. Or maybe it’s trying to get out, and he’s just forcing it down.

He shivers, and as much as he wants to bury himself back under his duvet and not have to deal with anything ever again, he knows that there’s no way he’s getting back to sleep: not with how he’s feeling, and not after— whatever. It was just a dream, it’s not like he can control them. He’s had really weird dreams before, some nightmares, all based on intrusive thoughts that cause him to wake up feeling disgusting… and he totally feels like that now, right? He’s not… he doesn’t like Sakusa. Just because he had a dream about kissing him, about running his hands through silky black curls and pressing his lips to even softer ones, to soft cheeks and a soft forehead and—

NOPE. He shakes his head and sits up, vision swirling a little as he does so, and looks around at his room. He’s not into Sakusa. Imagine that! It’s funny, honestly. Imagine: Miya Atsumu likes Sakusa Kiyoomi. HAH! There’s no way. Not in a million lifetimes. Never. He’s not— he would never— pfft.

He swings his legs over the side of his bed and pushes himself up, trying his very best to ignore how awful it makes him feel, and grabs his phone without bothering to look at it; he knows there’s probably plenty of embarrassing photos and videos of him up on Suna’s twitter and Instagram, and he’s really not up to seeing them right now. He would much rather go throw up.

He stumbles to the bathroom and drops down to the floor in front of the toilet, head swimming and the feeling in his throat getting harder to push down. The taste of alcohol clings to his tongue even after brushing his teeth last night under the guidance of Sakusa. He’d been worried about him falling over and hitting his head, which was probably a fair assumption because Atsumu’s pretty sure he remembers tripping and being caught in his arms. His surprisingly gentle, pale arms, with tiny moles sprinkled here and there but not as much as the ones that dot his back, the ones he’s noticed when they get changed for practice. Not that he cares about that! He’s just stating a fact! It’s not like he spends a lot of time thinking about Sakusa’s arms, or his body, or—

The feeling in his throat becomes too much and he throws up the contents of last night.

When he gets out of the shower and is properly dressed in an old t-shirt and sweatpants, having attempted to brush his hair and teeth, he begins to try to make his way down the stairs, very aware of the fact that it is now well past noon. He is still being tormented by last night’s dream, even though he is very aware that it means nothing. It was just a dumb dream. Just a stupid, silly, alcohol-induced dream. In which he held Sakusa Kiyoomi and kissed Sakusa Kiyoomi.

It's not like he hasn’t had dreams like that before: they’re not completely new or wild. He never does anything with them, never actually has any feelings for the people in them. Atsumu doesn’t do relationships. He does kissing and hook-ups and maybe more-than-one-dates, but not relationships. Why is he even thinking about that anyway? He doesn’t want a relationship with Sakusa. He feels like laughing just thinking about it: holding hands with and being the boyfriend of Sakusa. It’s ridiculous. It’s just a dumb dream.

It's not like he wants to kiss him! It’s not like he thinks he’s adorable sometimes…not in a romantic way. He doesn’t fantasise about placing his lips against his friend’s and making out with him and putting him on his lap and hearing the little moans pass his mouth when he does something right and—

He trips over the last couple of steps and falls with a very loud thud and a very loud yelp.

“Atsumu?!”

“Hnnggh.”

He looks up to see Mama standing in front of him, eyes wide. “Oh Gods, you’re in a bad way honey. Come on, you should go sit down,” she says, a little twinkle of amusement in her eyes, and she reaches out a hand for him. He ignores the stinging in his eyes at the pain.

“Don’t tell the others,” he pleads, trying not to put too much weight on her while getting up.

She raises her eyebrows, then looks towards the living room door. “Oh, Tsumu, they’re all in there. We all heard you fall. Also, your nose is bleedin’.”

Oh. Shit. “Kill me, Mama. Just do it. It’s the only option.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Stop being dramatic. Go on, I’ll get you a tissue.”

He sighs and takes a deep breath. It’s just Sakusa. It’s his teammate, his friend. He’s not into him. He wouldn’t be into him. That’s so— there’s just no way. It was just a dream. Just a dumb, really hot dream.

He walks into the living room and flops down on the sofa that Osamu’s sat on the arm of. “I’m goin’ to die.”

“Good.”

“SAMU!” he yells, then slaps a hand against his head at the pain it causes. “Ow.”

“Your nose is bleeding. It’s not as attractive when it’s not from a fight,” Suna says with a sigh from the other couch. “You just look kind of pathetic.”

“Are you just datin’ me cuz I’ve got the same face as him and he wasn’t an option for ya?!”

Suna grimaces, clearly joking, and side-eyes Sakusa. “Did you tell him? He wasn’t supposed to find out.”

Atsumu groans. “Sunarin, you’re a prick but at least I can always count on ya to tell me I’m hot.”

Osamu flicks his head, and he swats him away. “Stop flirtin’ with my boyfriend.”

“Aw, it’s okay Osa, I’m sure you’d look even hotter than Atsumu if you weren’t a puss and got in a fight with someone other than him,” Suna says, batting his eyelashes. “It’s a shame he always went easy on you.”

“You’re bleeding kind of a lot,” Sakusa says then, interrupting whatever this conversation is.

“I know.”

“You should pay more attention when you’re walking downstairs.”

“I know.”

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

“Oh fuck,” Osamu says, sitting up straight, “you really aren’t okay. You never admit to bein’ stupid as fuck.”

Well, I must be stupid as fuck to dream about making out with my teammate.

Mama walks in then like an angel from the heavens and holds out a tissue for him. “There.”

He takes it and presses it to his nose, sitting up. “Thanks. Gods, I feel like shit. Where’s Zuki?” She normally comes jumping at him as soon as he’s awake.

“Outside,” she says with an empathetic smile, running a hand through his hair. “I’d take her for a walk, but I’ve got all my paints set out already.”

Oh Gods no. He groans. He does not feel up to leaving the house, or even going into the garden for that matter. But… it’s not fair on her.

“I’ll take her,” Sakusa says then, standing up and walking over to him. “I need some exercise.”

He might cry. “Omi-Omi, light of my life, you are—” he pauses when he’s poked on the forehead. He looks up at him.

“You should get some tea. And also stop being an idiot.”

“Go away,” he cries, pushing him away and ignoring the beating in his chest. Suna stands up then just as Sakusa is leaving the room.

“I’m going with him so that, y’know, he doesn’t get lost.”

He instantly fills with dread. “Don’t you dare show him that blackmail folder, Sunarin.”

He starts walking away. “Huh? What was that? You’re so far away! I can’t hear you!”

“SUNARIN!”

“Alright, I’ll be off painting,” Mama says, putting her hands on her hip. “Kiyoomi-kun’s right: you should get some tea, and somethin’ to eat too for that matter. I heard you throwing up earlier.”

Atsumu and Osamu, the only two left in the room, don’t say anything until they hear the front door shut and Mama’s humming fades away.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He swivels his head to face him, eyes wide. He knows they’ve always been good at reading each other, but… how can he tell this is something more than just a hangover? “Nothing. What’s wrong with you?”

Osamu deadpans at him, but it’s nowhere near as powerful as Sakusa’s. “You’re being weird. What happened? Did you do something?”

“No! It was just a dream!” he rushes to defend himself. Shit.

He grins. “What was just a dream?”

“Nothin’! Shut it and leave me alone!”

“No way. Tell me what happened.”

He groans. It’s not even a big deal! It’s not like he’s in love with Sakusa. “I just… kissed Omi-kun in my dream! That’s it!” he yells before he can really think to stop himself.

Osamu’s grin spreads. “Oh my Gods, I knew it.”

“Knew what? There’s nothing to know!” he says, and his face is so hot. Why is it so hot? He doesn’t— there’s just no way. Atsumu doesn’t get crushes anymore, and he avoids getting into relationships because they’re way too stressful, and he certainly doesn’t pine.

As if he can hear what he’s thinking, which honestly, he probably can, Osamu leans in a little, absolutely delighted at this catastrophe. “You’re pinin’ for Sakusa!”

“NO, I’M NOT!” he screams, causing Mama to shout at them from her art room to stop being so loud. He shrinks into himself a little. “Look, yeah, sure Omi’s pretty and adorable sometimes but like… a bunch of my friends are hot!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you call your other friends pretty and adorable?”

“Wha—” he chokes on his spit and coughs. “Well, it’s true! That’s just a fact! It doesn’t mean I’m into him! Like yeah, he’s smart too, but so is Kita, and it’s not like I’m crushin’ on him… anymore; and okay, fine, so I had a little crush on Omi in high school but like, that’s gone now! It’s not like I dream about—”

“Making out with him?”

He shuts his mouth. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. This is so dumb. Fine, maybe he possibly has a little thing for Sakusa, a miniscule amount of attraction, but who cares? It’s not like it’s anything beyond physical attraction. He’s just aware that he’s hot and honestly, what kind of a friend would he be if he wasn’t? “Shut up. It’s not a thing. I’m not into him. There’s no pining involved in us.”

“Do you even believe yourself at this point?”

No. “Yes! Can you even imagine me and Omi? Together? It’d be-“ gentle, warm, happy, “-dumb!”

“You’re startin’ to annoy me.”

“You’re annoyin’ me!”

“I’m not the one in denial over falling in love with my friend. I already accepted that years ago, loser,” he hums, leaning back against the little bit of couch cushion he’s got behind him on the arm. Atsumu has half a mind to push him off.

“I’m not in denial,” he groans, tipping his head back. So what if he likes Sakusa’s curly black hair and two little moles and the way he blushes and his smile and his laugh? So what if he spent an hour the other day wondering what it would be like to take him to a planetarium, wondering if his face would light up? So what if he sometimes wants to pick him up and spin him around and— oh fuck.

Sakusa’s words from last night echo in his mind. ‘So what if you’re selfish, anyway? It’s your life.’

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. The thing is, Atsumu’s never actually gotten much of what he wanted, other than volleyball, and that’s been enough for him. He was fine with letting Osamu have what he wanted, fine with spending his free days working so that it meant Mama wouldn’t have to get another job, because wanting doesn’t mean you’ll get something, no matter how desperate he is for it. Afterall, he wanted a dad more than anything, and he wanted to go pro with Osamu, but… well, it seems that the things he wants most in life never want him as much back. He doesn’t know how to be selfish when everything he’s ever wanted has been out of his control.

A huff breaks through his thoughts. “Look Tsumu, you’re bein’ an idiot and getting way too deep in your head. You clearly fucking like him, and he clearly likes you too.”

Maybe he’s right. Sakusa has touched him, and he looked after him when he was drunk, and he blushed at him and moved in closer during movies, so maybe Osamu’s right. He’s not exactly oblivious: he can usually tell when there’s a vibe between him and someone else; but no matter the possibilities that could come from confessing, it doesn’t change the fact that Atsumu is terrified of losing anyone else. He was selfish when he was too young to be anything else, and that ended with Dad leaving…. He doesn’t know how to trust Sakusa, or anyone for that matter, to not do the same.

It was just a stupid dream, just a little attraction, so why is he getting so worked up? Why does he always have to get so in his head about this shit? Even when he and Kita broke up, if it can even be called that considering the short amount of time they were together, he was so anxious and afraid of what could go wrong.

He tries to steady his voice, but it comes out small and vulnerable and he hates it so much. “If I accept it and I start to feel too much, how do I know he won’t leave too?”

Dad said he wanted too much, he said he was never happy with anything, nothing was ever enough for him, so he tried to stop. He tried to want less, be happier, let even the smallest things be enough, and in some ways it worked. But sometimes he wonders if he was right. If he’s just, at nature, too much.

Osamu’s quiet for a few seconds, studying him, and Atsumu decides he’s done with the conversation. It’s gotten way too angsty for him and he’s never really been one for talking so openly about his feelings. So, he stands up and tries to ignore the way the world spins thanks to his hangover. “Ugh, anyway, I’m starvin’. I think I vommed all of last night’s food up.”

“Atsumu—”

“I’m craving cereal.”

Atsumu decides in the evening, after being sent pointed looks from Osamu all day, that he has had enough of his brother and promptly shuts himself in his room. Sakusa had raised an eyebrow at him when he’d stood up suddenly at the dinner table, feeling too tense under the concerned gaze of his brother, and announced that he wasn’t hungry. Today has been far too long and he still feels like complete shit thanks to last night.

He huffs out a puff of air and pushes his window open, allowing himself just a few minutes to stare out at the sea. It’s moments like this that got him through the hard times in high school, the quiet moments where he just lets himself disappear, pretends like he doesn’t exist to anyone but himself. It’s easier when he’s out somewhere else that isn’t the house, but it’s nice here anyway. Standing and looking out at the water and the sky, blue melting into blue, nothing feels like so much of a big deal anymore. The idea of liking Sakusa or being left by him, by Dad, by Osamu… it’s one of the only moments that he’s okay with feeling small and insignificant. It never lasts long though.

He pushes away from the window and opens his bedside drawer, pulling out the big black notebook covered in stickers: his scrapbook. Along with that, he grabs the mini photo printer and a few pens. Aside from his guitar, Atsumu’s never been much of an artsy person – not like Mama – but the one thing he did always enjoy was making his book of memories look nice, no matter how much work he had to put into it. It’s been a good form of relaxation for him for years, been something that he can turn to when he needs to distract himself or when he starts to feel insecure and has to remind himself that he’s got good people in his life who do actually like him.

He lays everything out on his bed, then grabs his air-pods and phone and plays an old playlist, and he looks through the first few pages at the photographs of their family: Dad, Mama, Osamu and him, all happy. Though none of that lasted very long, not when Dad decided he didn’t want them anymore.

He gets into bed at around eleven that night and stares up at the old glow in the dark stars on the ceiling for hours until he finally passes out.

When he wakes up, it’s about 4am, and Atsumu already knows as soon as he opens his eyes that he won’t be able to get back to sleep. If only there were special headphones that could block out even the sound of your own thoughts; it’s this exact thought that brings him to his decision on what to do.

He goes to the bathroom, brushes his teeth, and shoves on a hoodie atop his pyjamas, doing it all as quietly as he possibly can in order to avoid disturbing anyone else in the house by accidentally waking them up, and then he tiptoes down the hall and down the stairs. It’s when he reaches the kitchen to make himself a coffee that he finds out he is in fact not the only person awake in the house.

“Omi-kun?” he whispers to himself, quiet enough that he isn’t even heard. But there he is, sat at the kitchen table with a mug of what is probably tea, knowing him, and looking barely awake. His hair sticks in every direction, probably from a night filled with tossing and turning, seeing as he’s still awake, and his face looks like he’s ran his hands over it a thousand times. He looks… cute. Or— he leans his forehead against the doorframe, sighing. Sakusa Kiyoomi, cute. How can it both make so much sense and none at all?

It feels wrong in the same way that his first crush on a guy felt wrong, like his brain is telling him something it shouldn’t, making his stomach churn. He doesn’t know what to do with this. Last time, he just cried in his room until Osamu came in and told him it was okay.

It’s wrong in the best way possible, and he doesn’t want it to stop.

He knows that liking boys is fine now, he doesn’t think twice about it, but… Sakusa Kiyoomi isn’t just some random man. He’s his teammate, his friend, his… well. He’s one of the only steady things he knows. He’s always been there. Wouldn’t it be better if he just denies those feelings? Or is it only hurting himself?

Sakusa lifts his head, suddenly noticing that he’s there, and he looks even more tired than him.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Atsumu asks, pushing away from the door – pretending like he wasn’t just standing there staring – and he turns the kettle on, heaping a few teaspoons of instant coffee into a thermos. Sakusa shakes his head in response, eyes drooping a little, and his hair bounces with every turn. He looks soft, so different to the person he’s come to know, yet exactly the same. He wants to squeeze him. And kiss him. Gods. He actually really wants to kiss him.

He leans over, elbows resting on the counter, and hides his face in his hands. He doesn’t want to stop. He doesn’t want to not feel this way. But… he doesn’t want to lose it. What if he loses it?

He huffs out a breath and stands up straight, turning to face Sakusa as he decides that yes, his earlier decision is very much needed. He leans over the table and pokes his two moles, an action that is quickly becoming his favourite thing.

“Wanna join me for a drive?”

He raises an eyebrow up at him, hair hanging over his eyes, and Atsumu has to take a physical step backwards to stop himself from grabbing his face and pulling him in for a kiss because he really doesn’t think he’s quite ready for that yet. Also, it would be weird.

It’s completely unfair how pretty he is, especially the way his curls bounce ever-so-slightly as he nods.

Atsumu turns away lest his bright red face be questioned, and finishes making his coffee, then grabs a spare thermos, cleans it just to be careful, and fills it with mint tea for Sakusa. He’s not quite sure when he memorised that being his favourite hot drink.

“Let’s go then,” he whispers, walking past him and unlocking the front door. They leave the house as quietly as they can and get in his car, and in silence, Atsumu drives.

This is it. This is his special place.

He reverses into the parking space close to the edge of the cliff and then reaches for the blankets and pillows that he keeps on the backseats, giving Sakusa a small smile as he gets out and sets them up in the cargo bed. He helps him up onto it and they sit beside each other, looking out at the beginning of the sunset.

“I used to come here a lot…” he says, voice crackling like static breaking through the radio silence from their journey. “I guess I still do, when I visit. It’s kind of like my secret hide-out I guess.” It’s always been the perfect place to just think: no distractions, no guilt, nothing. It feels like he stops existing when he’s here.

“Why did you bring me then?” Sakusa asks, and it’s the first time he’s said anything today. His voice is a lot quieter than usual, but not in a bad way: he sounds comfortable, relaxed. It’s… nice to see. To know that he can be like this when it’s just the two of them.

“I dunno. I guess I trust you, as awful as that is,” he jokes, lightly nudging him with his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything in response, so they just sit there for a little longer watching the sunrise until he speaks up.

“I’m… grateful. That you let me in on your life like this. Your family is really special,” he says, curling into himself. “You said anyone could come, but sometimes when I’m offered things like that, I think I’m just being pitied.” He blows on his thermos of tea and shivers. He looks small like this.

Atsumu pulls off his hoodie, fine with just being in a t-shirt, and holds it out to him. “Here. I washed it yesterday and only put it on when I woke up.” Once he hesitantly accepts it, he continues. “I guess I was pityin’ you a bit, but I really didn’t mind you coming. I’m really glad you did, now.” He rubs at the back of his neck, sheepish.

“I’m glad I did too,” he mumbles, and then he pulls on the hoodie, and while it fits mostly the same on him as it does himself, the action messes up his hair even more and there’s something about seeing Sakusa like that, in his own hoodie that he’s had for years, that makes Atsumu’s heart squeeze.

“You look painfully cute, Omi,” he teases, shuffling a little closer to him. Sakusa’s cheeks flush baby pink and he looks down.

“Shut up.”

He grins, then something pops into his head, and he decides that maybe it’s okay to ask now. He’s been feeling a lot more confident in their friendship recently. “What’s your family like? I get the idea that you’re not all that close with ‘em.”

“I’m not,” he says in a hushed tone, shifting slightly. “My parents were never very affectionate with me, and my siblings were a lot older so… well, we weren’t anything like you and Osamu-kun. I suppose my sister was always more of a mother to me – she’s one of the kindest people I know.” He shrinks into himself. Atsumu can’t imagine not being close with Mama. He pokes at his hand with his pinkie to let him know he’s there, or, whatever.

“Why didn’t you go stay with her over the break?”

He shakes his head. “She’s done so much for me already, and she’s got her own family now, her own responsibilities… I don’t want to burden her.”

What? Burden her? Atsumu leans over so that he’s in direct eyesight of him. “You’re not burdening anyone, Omi. No one.” How could he even think that?

“It’s okay, Atsumu, I know I’m a lot. I’ve made peace with it; I understand that it can be too much.”

What? No. How can he even— in what world is Sakusa too much? Who the fuck told him that? He knows that feeling, he knows what it’s like to think that, and no one else should have to experience it. Especially not Kiyoomi. He takes hold of his hand without thinking about it first, too preoccupied with making sure he listens to him. “No. You’re not. Who cares if you’ve got issues and routines and whatever; none of that means you’re too much. You could never be too much.” Is he being too honest? Saying too much? Is that being hypocritical?

Sakusa looks at him, eyes wide, and then nods. “Thank you.” He doesn’t really look totally convinced. He wants him to be convinced, though. He wants him to understand, to know that he understands. He doesn’t want him to think that he’s just saying it for the sake of making him feel better; he knows how shit that feels.

Atsumu sits back again, and he feels like he’s going to be sick. He doesn’t know how to be honest. He doesn’t know how to do this, but… he wants to. Because he doesn’t have a guitar to hold, to play, he decides to squeeze Sakusa’s hand instead.

“Y’know, I feel like that too, like all the time – like I’m too much.” He looks out at the sky, blue soaking into orange, and pretends that he’s singing the words so they don’t get stuck in his throat. “My dad left when we were pretty young, but it eventually became clear to me that he didn’t like me all that much. I was too loud, too sensitive, too honest… too much for him. It felt like I was too much for everyone.”

“You’re not. You’re not too much, either,” Sakusa whispers, and a quiet puff of a laugh escapes past Atsumu’s lips, because it’s one thing to try to convince himself, but it’s a whole other thing to hear someone else say it. He can feel his eyes stinging, can hear the quiet voices in the back of his head telling him that he’s being too dramatic, that he’s a hypocrite, but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s looking down at their intertwined hands, feeling smooth skin shift carefully against his. Not when Sakusa’s looking at him like he’s never lied a day in his life, and he doesn’t dare start now.

He looks into his eyes, unable to hold back the wobbly smile that he knows is pulling at his cheeks, and squeezes his hand like it was always meant to fit in his. Like he even knows what that means. “Yeah. We aren’t.”

They look at each other and it’s so weird, because this is so unlike them – having serious conversations and being physically affectionate, it’s something they rarely experience, especially together. It’s just right though. There’s nothing wrong about this. There’s nothing wrong about it being Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Sakusa’s eyes drop for a split-second, and when they snap back to him, there’s concern in them. “Was your dad mean to you?”

Atsumu shakes his head, his smile turning sad. “No, not really. There were moments when he was really nice, like when he would let me attempt to play his guitar even though my hands were too small, or when he would take the family out on daytrips to wherever Samu or me wanted to go. But then, he just…” he sighs, tilting his head back, and he says something that he’s never told anyone else, something that’s only ever been a thought, a diary entry. “When twins are born, there’s one kid who wasn’t planned, y’know? It’s not super common for people to get pregnant and think, oh Gods, I hope I have the nightmares that is twins!

“I was the first one out, the ‘planned’ one, but… it always felt like Samu got that spot. I was the unplanned one. The unwanted one. The one that made things difficult. Or at least, that’s how Dad saw it, along with the rest of the world, spanning from classmates to teammates to friends. I was the least favourite, the too much, and Osamu was liked and invited to things and was wanted. He was the child. I was the twin.” He tries not to regret saying it. He feels his hand be squeezed, a surreal, careful feeling, soft fingers linking with his own, and he feels lighter, like his body’s been begging him to let it all out.

“You’re not unwanted. Even when we hated each other I still wanted you there because I liked playing against you,” he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like he hasn’t just turned Atsumu’s entire world upside down with that one statement. “Fuck everyone who makes you feel like you’re too much.”

A small laugh bubbles out of him. “Fuck everyone who makes you feel like you’re too much.”

“Fuck everyone,” Sakusa decides on, and Atsumu grins.

“FUCK EVERYONE!” he shouts into the sky, and he thrusts their still-intertwined hands into the air like a cheer. He thinks it might be the best he’s ever felt.

Taken off guard by the sudden movement, Sakusa falls into his side, mouth shaped into a little ‘o’, but when he goes to sit up straight again, to his surprise, Sakusa doesn’t move away, instead staying pressed close to his side. Warmth spreads throughout Atsumu’s body, rising to his cheeks. He doesn’t comment on it, just rests their hands on his knee and softly strokes Sakusa’s skin with his thumb, hesitantly at first, then when there’s no objection, more confidently. He looks back out at the sky. “I think you should go see your sister when you get the chance though. If she really raised you, then I bet she wants to see you just as bad.”

Sakusa hums in response, but he huddles in even closer to him, and he thinks maybe that’s an agreement. A promise.

They lay there for a while longer, time almost stood still, with the only indication that the world is still moving being the rising of the sun, and they talk more about their families, about Hyogo and Tokyo, about volleyball, about everything, and Atsumu’s never felt quite so content.

“Your hands really do have scarring,” Sakusa says under his breath when there’s a lull in the conversation, and Atsumu looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Huh?”

He lifts their still-linked hands, holding up his knuckles to face him. “Osamu-kun said you had scars from your fights in high school. I didn’t even think that made any sense.”

Oh. “They’re not really from the punching,” he explains, watching as he examines the little scratches that never disappeared. “There were a couple times when things broke, like glass and stuff, and it got in my hands. Or that one time some prick in the year above stabbed me with a pencil.”

“Someone stabbed you with a pencil?!”

He snickers, leaning his head on his shoulder through the laughter as he thinks back on that day. “I got in a fight with him cuz he was chattin’ shit about the team and he started calling Samu slurs, so I punched him and he reached for the first thing he could find, which just so happened to be a pencil. I was out of volleyball for a couple days, the asshole.” He lifts his head back up and looks straight ahead. “The glass thing was my fault, though. Someone made some dumb comments about Dad leaving, and I was havin’ a bad day, and I pushed them into a shelf of beakers… a few of ‘em broke and got in my hands while I was punching them. That’s why I was on close watch at the training camp – they almost didn’t let me go.”

He stares at him for a moment, and he wonders briefly if he’s worried, but then in true Sakusa fashion, he just insults him. “Gods, you’re stupid.”

He yelps and looks at him, mocking offense. “Omi! I’m a genius!”

He rolls his eyes. “Geniuses don’t shove people into shelves filled with glass.”

“Shut up. You’re just a nerd that would’ve cried over the beakers instead of the fight.”

They stay there until the sun is fully visible and their phones tell them it’s around 7am. Sakusa falls asleep on the drive back home, the sun shining on his face through the front window, and Atsumu can’t help but think that he’d really like to watch more sunrises with him. And maybe hold hands more often; when they’d let go, it’d felt like he was missing something.

Gods, he really is pining.

Chapter Text

It’s later that day, after Atsumu and Sakusa get back from their drive to watch the sunrise and spend about half the day napping, that they inform the latter on what a special day it is.

“It’s Mama’s birthday!” he announces when Sakusa appears in the doorway after his nap to find the three of them sitting in the living room, wrapping up presents on the floor. Mama’s out with one of her friends today, so they’ve got until the evening to get everything ready, but… maybe he shouldn’t have slept until noon.

His eyes instantly go wide, flicking between the three of them and landing on Atsumu. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He raises an eyebrow. “I’m tellin’ ya now.”

He deadpans at him. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I don’t know if I’ll have enough time to find her a gift.”

Wait. What? He pauses in his wrapping and looks up. “Omi-kun, you don’t need to get her anything – you only just met her, and she won’t expect anythin’. I can say my present is from both of us if you’re that worried.”

He runs a hand through his hair and Atsumu watches as the black curls slip easily through his fingers like he has the smoothest hair on Earth. Maybe he does. He wants to find out. “I’m staying here for free, and she’s been effortlessly kind to me: I can’t just stand there and give her nothing.”

Osamu, who’s watching Suna wrap their gift because he can’t do it for the life of him, pipes up then. “Effortlessly?”

Atsumu jumps in, thinking about their conversation from that morning. “Yeah, effortlessly. Mama’s kind to everyone without even tryin’. Not that she’d need to try.” He sends him a knowing smile and Sakusa shifts his weight back and forth between his feet, lips quirking up slightly.

“I don’t know how she had two kids that’re such pricks,” Suna says, a slight tilt to his mouth as he takes the tape from him.

“Oi, shut it,” Atsumu says, then focuses back onto Sakusa. “Seriously, Omi-Omi, you don’t need to get anything.”

“You shut it. I’m going to get something,” he says, then turns around. Suna cello-tapes the last bit of his and Osamu’s gift and then stands up.

“I’ll come with you, Sakusa; I know the best shops in the area, and these two have to bake a cake. I’m not allowed near the oven,” he says, grabbing his phone off the sofa.

Sakusa’s grateful look morphs into one of confusion, his eyebrows furrowed. “Why aren’t you allowed near the oven?”

“He sucks at cooking,” Osamu answers, shivering at the idea of even letting him try.

“Ah, so that’s why you’re together then, so you can cook for him,” Sakusa jokes, and Atsumu lets out an embarrassing little giggle under his breath.

“You know me so well already, Sakusa,” Suna grins, walking past him to go put his shoes on, and he follows behind him. Osamu whacks Atsumu.

“I dunno why you’re laughing. They’re a dangerous pair and they’re goin’ off together… they’re probably gonna make fun of you the whole time.”

Oh. “Goddammit.”

He grins, then stands up and starts making his way to the kitchen. “Come on, let’s start on the cake.”

Every year, Atsumu and Osamu make Mama’s birthday cake together. It has been this way since they were kids, getting help from Nan on what to do, and he hopes it will be this way for the rest of their lives. No matter what, they always find time to get together and prepare for Mama’s birthday.

Atsumu was always, to the surprise of everyone for some reason, the better baker of the two of them, mostly because he used to make cakes and bread with Nan while Osamu would help Mama with dinner and lunches, meaning he’s the better cook. But still, they make her cake together.

“Sooo,” Osamu starts as they begin measuring out the ingredients into separate bowls – Atsumu knows it just means extra washing, but he’s always liked to organise it all first. He likes being able to just add everything in as he needs rather than faffing about measuring things while he’s trying to actually make the mixture.

“What?” he asks, glancing over at him as he pulls out the containers of flour and sugar that are kept in the same cabinet as always.

He grabs a stick of butter and flips it in his hand. “Where were you and Sakusa this morning? Rin went out for a run and said neither of you were home.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Oh Gods. He can already feel himself turning red. “Nowhere. Just… neither of us could sleep, so I took ‘im to watch the sunrise with me.”

Osamu pauses, eyes big, and a grin begins to spread across his face. Atsumu wants to punch him. “You took Sakusa somewhere you don’t even let me and Rin go? Inch resting.”

He really wants to punch him. “Shut it. I told you already, we just went cuz we couldn’t sleep, and I’d already decided I was gonna go. It’s not a big deal.”

His grin shifts into a straight line. “Ya took him to your special place that you don’t even let your best friends go to.”

“I’m trynna bake a cake here, and you’re not helping.”

“I’ll help when you admit you’re in love with him.”

“I’M NOT IN LOVE WITH—” he shrieks, cutting himself off when he starts choking on his own saliva.

He snickers and then stands up straight, walking over and measuring the butter out. “Whatever you say.”

Atsumu sucks in a breath and rolls his eyes, pushing a bowl aside. Sure, whatever, fine, he’s into Sakusa, but he’s been into a lot of people over the years: just because he has a crush doesn’t mean he’s in love with him. He isn’t sat on his bed daydreaming about taking him on dates to museums and planetariums, or kicking his feet and blushing and writing songs for him. In love. What does Osamu know? He really thinks that being in a devoted relationship means that he’s some kind of love guru.

“You’re the most annoyin’ person I know,” he says decidedly, looking over the cake recipe briefly to make sure that he’s gathered and measured everything they need.

“Says you,” he scoffs, nudging him as he walks past. Atsumu really does hate his brother.

It’s not until the cake is in the oven and they’re cleaning up the kitchen that Osamu reminds him exactly why he couldn’t sleep last night, why he was avoiding him yesterday.

“Oi, Tsumu… about what you said yesterday—” he starts, and it instantly puts him on edge, muscles tensing.

“Stop, just forget about it,” he interrupts, not looking away from the bowl he’s scrubbing at, “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He doesn’t want to think about Dad and how he’s ruined any chances he has at getting too close to someone because of his varying trust issues. He doesn’t want to think about the fact that even if he did manage to fall for someone, they probably wouldn’t like him back, because he’s annoying and too loud, which is fine, he likes himself, but… sometimes on the odd occasion, it would be nice for someone else to like him.

‘Fuck everyone who makes you feel like you’re too much.’

He shakes Sakusa’s voice out of his head. He doesn’t want to think about any of this right now; he did enough of that this morning. He doesn’t want to think about how whenever he grows close to someone, something always happens to separate them.

Osamu, persistent as always, refuses to forget about it. “You don’t have to talk about it, idiot, but I’m going to. Look,” he holds up his arm to block Atsumu’s attempt at hitting him and sighs, pausing in his drying of the dishes. “I don’t know what the deal is with you two, but if you’re holding yourself back because you’re afraid of being left alone like what Dad did, then you’re being dumb. You’re annoying, and you’re ugly, yeah—”

“We have the same face, prick!”

“—but everyone else has stuck around, you know. Mama, Aran, Suna, Kita, me… we’ve not left yet, even though you suck.”

You didn’t stay with me, though. He doesn’t have to say it out loud. Even after all this time, and how proud Atsumu is of his brother, how hard he tried not to be selfish, they both know that he still wishes he had stayed. Osamu knows.

“Gods, I can see it all over your face, asshole. I didn’t leave, Tsumu, and I’m not goin’ to. I wouldn’t have been happy going pro, and we both know that; and before ya say it, I know you’re not mad at me for it and I know you’re proud or whatever, but… I also know that you never really got over it. But I’m not sorry. And I’m saying it now even though I feel like I’m gonna be sick, because we never do, but I love ya, alright? And I’m still here. You know volleyball isn’t everything, there’s more to life than that, and I wanted something else, and as much as you would die for it, I know you want something more too. But even without volleyball, I’m here. I’m still gonna reluctantly talk to you every day, and I’m still gonna bake cakes with you for Mama’s birthday even though you’re a control freak, and I’m still gonna insult the fuck outta you cuz it’s just too easy. Oh, and before you even bring Nan up, because I know you got in your head about that too, she didn’t leave us by choice. And I know it’s scary as fuck, Tsumu, but you can’t avoid everyone for the rest of your life just because you’re afraid of them dying. So…” he takes a deep breath and looks him in the eye, like he’s trying his best to be dramatic, “just because that prick was shitty, just because he left, and just because people die, that doesn’t mean you don’t still have all of us. I’m not goin’ fucking anywhere. And I mean, Sakusa clearly likes you enough to have come here, so that’s gotta count for something.”

Oh.

Now, there’s one thing about himself that Atsumu, along with his closest friends, has always known – and resented – and that is the fact that as much as he likes to come across all strong, and as much as hate doesn’t often get to him, he really is a sap, and he gets overly emotional – one thing Dad was right about – whenever someone says something nice to him. This is probably why he is crying now, he figures. In order to counter that, he punches his brother in the arm.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m actually gonna vom,” he chokes, sniffing.

“You’re literally cryin’ fucko!” Osamu retorts, but honestly, his eyes look a little shiny too. Atsumu really does love his brother. So much.

When Mama gets home that evening after spending the day with her friend, she is surprised by the four of them standing in the kitchen with a cake sitting on the table in front of them, all shouting Happy Birthday to her. Atsumu thinks it must be their best year because this time she hasn’t walked into him and Osamu fighting, and this time there’s four people there, each one holding a different kind of adoration for her. It’s exactly what she deserves.

“Y’know, I wanna say somethin’ like oh you didn’t have to, but you do this every year so I’m not all that surprised,” she jokes, setting her handbag down on the counter and walking around the table to kiss her sons on the cheek.

“Damn, we worked extra hard on this one you know,” Atsumu cries, folding his arms over his chest.

Osamu smirks and elbows him. “Yeah, he even started cryin’. It was really embarrassing.”

“Wha—” he yelps, swivelling around to shout at his brother. “You know that was about something else, ya prick! And you said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“Yeah, but I enjoy lying to you,” he grins, evil and mean and a traitor.

“Alright, stop it. You know the drill: no fightin’ on my birthday,” Mama sings, interrupting the two of them and smiling softly down at the cake. “It’s beautiful, you two. Thank you.”

“You’ve gotta blow out the candles now, and then we can go open your presents,” Suna says, reaching over to light them with a match, and Atsumu starts up the song of Happy Birthday. Mama waits patiently for them to finish – it’s not as good as usual because he’s trying so hard not to laugh at how awkward Sakusa looks – and then blows them out, taking a moment to make a wish in her head.

While Adzuki comes running in, jumping at Mama and trying to lick her face, Osamu cuts the cake and Atsumu tries desperately to pull the excited dog off her, and then the six of them walk into the living room and he stands there for a moment, just taking it all in. It’s probably the millionth time he’s thought it this past week and a bit, but it once again strikes him how happy he is to be back home with his favourite people and Sakusa, who he thinks has become one of them, and he just feels so real. It’s like Dad never even existed, like this has been his family all along and like he didn’t spend all that time suffering over him. Does Sakusa feel the same? Like he’s found somewhere he feels like he belongs? He hopes so. Some part of him, deep inside, really wants this place to feel like home for him, maybe the one that he never really got.

He could spend the rest of eternity like this.

“Oi Tsumu, what’re you starin’ at? Come on or I’m not giving you any cake,” Osamu calls, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up, I’m comin’, asshole.”

“You’re what?” Suna jokes.

“Die.”

After the cake, and Mama deciding to pull out photos of her two sons when they were babies in order to make fun of them with Sakusa and Suna because it’s her birthday so she can do what she likes, they finally get round to opening the gifts. As is tradition, they start off with Atsumu’s, him being the first one out of the womb and therefore technically the oldest, Osamu.

“You’ve gotten better at wrapping,” she says, amusement in her voice as he hands over the gift, the five of them sitting around the coffee table in the living room. Adzuki is sound asleep by his side, too, completely over her excitement from before.

“That’s better?” Sakusa asks, almost looking disgusted at the absolute atrocity that is his wrapping technique. Atsumu thinks that whenever he next gives him a gift, he’s going to wrap it as badly as he possibly can.

“Unfortunately,” she laughs, reaching over and messing up her son’s hair when he starts to frown at the two of them. “Alright, let’s see.”

“I hope it’s another bath bomb,” Suna says in anticipation, grinning and barely holding in his laughter at his teasing.

“That was three years ago!” he cries, rushing to defend himself. He had still been trying to get the hang of picking out gifts without Nan’s help, and he’d thought it smelled nice. Mama had been grateful, but Osamu and Suna made fun of him for weeks about what a boring present it was.

The sound of paper tearing draws his attention back to her and Atsumu has to stop himself from biting his nails. He’d tried extra hard this year, dragging Shoyo around the mall for hours in a desperate attempt to find the perfect gift for her fiftieth birthday.

She pulls the wrapping paper away from the small box and his heart stops as she carefully pulls off the lid and holds the necklace up to her face. His heart pounds in his chest when she looks up at him, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Oh, Atsumu…” she whispers, choked up as she gazes back down at the jewellery.

“Holy shit, is that Auntie’s necklace?” Osamu asks, leaning over to look at it in maybe just as much shock as Mama.

“The one that got lost when you guys moved?” Suna questions, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah… but it was super old and when it went missing Mama couldn’t find a replica anywhere cuz it was a one-of-a-kind.”

“Our papa made it for her,” Mama hums, tear tracks running down her face. “How did you get this?”

He fiddles with the hem of his jumper, taking a deep breath. He looks at Mama. “Well… I know that Auntie was your best friend, and even though we were young, I remember how broken up you were when you couldn’t find it after we moved. Dad said you were being too sensitive.” He really hates that man. “Sometimes I still see you reaching for your neck when you’re stressed like you’re trying to get comfort from her, and you look so sad when you remember it’s not there. So… after a whole day at the mall trynna find somethin’, I got an idea; I took a bunch of photos that I found of you and Auntie wearing it, and I showed them to this jeweller who’s like, renowned for his works or whatever – it was the same guy who make Bokkun’s engagement ring for Keiji-kun – and he made as perfect of a replica as he could. I know it’s not the same, and it’s not made by your dad, but… I thought ya might like it.”

Anxiety and embarrassment claws at him with everyone staring at him, with Sakusa’s eyes practically glued onto him, and a small part of him really wishes he had just gotten another bath bomb. But then Mama starts full-on crying, and she slides around the table to pull him into a hug that could crack his ribs.

“Thank you so much, baby. You are amazing,” she whispers, hands somehow tightening around him, and he buries his face in her neck.

“I’m glad you like it, Mama.”

“I love it.”

“Damn Tsumu, now our present is just gonna look like a sack of shit,” Osamu says then, and Mama pulls away, wiping her eyes and moving back to her previous seat.

“Oi, be quiet. I’ll like anythin’ you get me, just like how I appreciated the bath-bomb,” she hums, accepting Suna’s help to fasten the necklace on her while she takes the envelope Osamu holds out to her. “It’s from both of us,” he says, moving back to sit beside his boyfriend.

She smiles, soft and so full of love for all of them, and carefully opens the envelope. It takes her a moment to read the slip of paper and then she looks up at the two of them, the tears in her eyes replaced by stars, intriguing Atsumu.

“What is it?” he asks, leaning over the table to peek at the paper. Sakusa takes hold of his bicep, grip gentle, when he nearly falls onto the dirty plates that had their cake on. “Thanks, Omi-kun.”

“Be more careful,” he says, but his voice sounds a little different and his stare doesn’t really drift away from him. He decides to ask him about it later – maybe he’s just nervous about whatever he got for Mama.

“They’re tickets to the Hasui Kawase art exhibition in Tokyo!” she exclaims, answering his question, and she reaches over to hug the both of them.

He smiles and looks out the corner of his eye at Sakusa. “That’s Mama’s favourite artist.”

“I know you’ve been wanting to go see his work for years, and we thought it could be a nice trip; we’ve booked a real nice hotel as well,” Osamu says, looking relieved at her reaction, like he really was worried that his gift wouldn’t compare to Atsumu’s. He inwardly shakes his head at his brother’s stupidity.

“I love it so much. Thank you, you two,” she grins. This is why she has so many smile lines, he thinks then – she can never go more than a few minutes without her lips at least quirking up a tiny bit. She slaps her hands against her thighs and lets out a big breath. “Right, you lot have spoiled me. Should we go start on dinner?”

“Oh—” Sakusa tries, but then he swallows and looks down at the neatly wrapped present in his hands, hidden from her view by the table. Atsumu, sensing the nerves building up inside him, reaches over and squeezes his arm with an encouraging smile before he can even think about it… it feels oddly natural.

“Mama, Omi wanted to give you somethin’ too,” he says before she can stand up, and her eyebrows raise so high that he thinks they might just fly away. “He practically ran out the house as soon as he woke up.”

“Kiyoomi-kun, you didn’t need to get me anything!” she flusters, cheeks a little pink but not as bright as Sakusa’s – Atsumu can’t stop the laugh that escapes him, and he receives a red-faced glare in return.

“It’s the least I could do, Emiko-san… you’ve allowed me to stay at your house for the break, without expecting any money or any help, and you’ve been unbelievably kind to me,” he says, voice a little shaky, and it squeezes at Atsumu’s heart because how adorable can one man be? He holds out the wrapped rectangle to her and, once she takes it, his hands flop down at his sides. He wants to reach out for them so bad that it actually almost hurts keeping them to himself.

“Oh, honey,” she chuckles, slowly unwrapping the gift with extra care. “You are always welcome here, even without Tsumu.”

“You make it sound like ya don’t even want me here,” he comments, folding his arms which is honestly just mainly to stop himself from going to hold Sakusa’s hand. Mama doesn’t say anything to that and instead pulls a book out of the paper, scanning over the cover.

“Atsumu—” he is never going to get used to hearing him say his given name “-told me you like stars, and you seemed interested when we spoke about the book my aunt gave me about constellations, so I got you a copy of it. It’s filled with photographs and facts about them, and it’s detailed, so…” he trails off and it makes his chest ache even more because Sakusa Kiyoomi never trails off. He rarely gets embarrassed, rarely fumbles over his words, and very rarely second-guesses himself. He must be really nervous.

“It’s beautiful,” she hums, running her fingers over the slightly raised text on the front of the book and smiling up at him. “Thank you so much.”

In lieu of a response, Sakusa nods and looks down at his lap, still blushing.

“Cute,” Atsumu comments, standing up and gathering the plates as Mama takes hold of her presents to take to her room. He doesn’t miss the way his blush gets deeper.

After dinner, Sakusa offers to wash the dishes, and considering how tired Mama is, she doesn’t try to argue, instead just thanking him and traipsing off into the living room. Osamu and Suna take one suspicious look at each other and then hurry off behind her. Either they’re being assholes and don’t want to clean, or they’re being assholes and want to force Atsumu into uncomfortable situations. The important thing is that they’re assholes.

“I’ll dry,” he says after a couple seconds of helplessly staring after them. Sakusa hesitates for a brief second and then nods, picking up a stack of plates and carrying them towards the sink, so Atsumu grabs the rest of the dishes and puts them down as well. “I think Mama really likes the book you got her. I saw her peeking inside it while Samu was cookin’.”

“Oh… I’m glad. Though, it wasn’t anything like your gift,” he says, pulling on a pair of cleaning gloves and running the hot tap. “I’ll be honest, I was surprised. You’ve been doing that a lot.”

“Surprisin’ ya?”

“Yes.”

He grins, light laughter dissipating into the air. “Did you think I was gonna get her a bath-bomb too?”

“Suna did tell me about it while we were out,” he shrugs. “Though, you do usually get our teammates good gifts as well so maybe I should have given you the benefit of the doubt. It was… really kind of you to put so much effort into her gift.”

He nods, a feeling of warmth settling into his bones and his heart and his head. “I definitely get better gifts than you,” he jokes when a memory pops into his head. “D’you remember when you got Barnes that pack of washable pens because he was complaining about his kids making a mess?”

“They were practical!” he defends, not looking away from where he’s scrubbing at a plate.

“I couldn’t breathe, I was laughin’ so hard,” he argues.

“That’s because you’re an asshole.”

“Says you.”

“Shut up.”

“We’re both pricks, Omi-Omi, you know it,” he grins, opening up the cupboard to his right and putting a couple of dried plates in it. “It’s why we get along so well. Come on, we’ve had this conversation multiple times.”

“I just get surprised that you’re willing to admit it,” he says with a raised eyebrow, the two moles above it raising with it. Would Sakusa blush if he kissed them?

“Well, I mean, I’m not an idiot.”

“No, you definitely are.”

“Omi!” he yells, holding a plate to his chest. “How dare ya! Go back to complimenting me.”

He rolls his eyes, always tired of Atsumu’s antics, but he doesn’t look annoyed: it’s almost like there’s a wave of fond exasperation washing over him. He knows that look too well after constantly seeing it on his friends’ faces.

Sakusa doesn’t say anything for a bit, seemingly happy to just wash and dry the dishes in silence together, and in the oddly – but not bad – domestic moment, Atsumu allows himself to relax and just hum to himself, the same lullaby that Mama used to sing to him and Osamu when they were little. He doesn’t remember any of the words anymore, but he knows the tune like the back of his hand, and it never fails to make him happy, like as long as her voice is in his memories, everything will be alright. It’s why, when matches get tense, he hums it in his head to calm himself down.

He likes this, standing in the kitchen with Sakusa and cleaning up together, working with something as simple as this just as well as they do with volleyball. He likes the warmth that has settled into his bones, and he likes the faint noise of cicadas outside the window. He just… likes it here. With Sakusa. It feels like a crime that he’s deprived himself of this for so long.

“Hey Omi,” he says when he’s passed the last pan, just because he feels like fucking with him, and he figures his plan is fine since it only involves clean water and soap. “Ya missed a spot.”

Sakusa leans in closer to take a look, confusion clear on his face because how could he possibly do that? “Where?”

Atsumu grins and as quick as he can, dips his hand in the sink and splashes water at him. “There. I got it.”

There are two seconds of silence in which he thinks he might genuinely be killed, worries that he’s crossed a line, and then Sakusa reaches for the bottle of dish soap and squeezes a bit at his chest. And, well, in the Miya family, that means war.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” he warns, and before he has time to process what’s happening, he reaches behind him for the spray bottle of water that Mama uses to water the house plants, and shoots at him. As expected, it turns to chaos.

Sakusa sticks with his dish soap as a form of weapon, consistently shooting it at Atsumu and trying to grab onto him – he’s pretty sure he’s planning on dunking his head into the sink – and so he attempts to block his advances by shooting water at him every time he tries to get close. He laughs and sticks his arms up in the air when he manages to get water in his eyes.

“Hah! Get fucked!” he whoops, spraying more water at him as laughter falls out of his mouth. In a single moment, however, Sakusa turns on the tap, reaches for him, pulls him in closer, and splashes it at him three times. He raises an eyebrow and pulls the dish soap away from him, squirting it at his still-gloved hands.

“That was a bad move on your part, Atsumu,” he says, lips quirked up mischievously as he rubs his hands together, and he lunges forward, clapping both of them on either side of his face. “You seem to be losing here.”

The soap is cold and feels awful, and it was indeed a bad move, but with his history of fighting, he has a couple tricks up his sleeve. “Eh, I’m not too big on losing.”

“You have a lot of bad moves for someone who wants to win.”

And with that, before Sakusa can even attempt to take the bottle back, he grabs onto his wrist, spins him around, and pins him against the sink, arm blocking his escape; he draws a little bracket next to the two moles on his forehead to create a smiley face with the soap. He shoves it down on the counter and grabs onto the edge with a smirk, completely trapping him.

“What was that about bad moves?” he teases, voice low, looking down at him and grinning at the face he created on his forehead, along with the fact that he’s pouting, and his skin has taken on a very red tinge. “Adorable.”

“Shut up,” he says, voice oddly raspy and looking extremely flustered – it reminds him of Osamu’s dumb words from yesterday. You clearly fucking like him, and he clearly likes you too. Well, it’s not all that clear to him. What if he’s got it all wrong?

He keeps his eyes on him, about to make him admit that he lost, when he pauses, head going completely blank and heart somehow both stopping and racing. Sakusa’s eyes are green. Like, a really dark green. He has green eyes that somehow Atsumu has never noticed until he really looked at him under the kitchen lights and it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Does everyone else know they’re green? Is he the only one to have not noticed it yet? How has he not seen it yet?! He stares at him all the time!

He swallows and it’s not until a little breath escapes Sakusa’s mouth that he realises how close they are, because he can almost feel it on his own lips. They just look at each other, silent and staring, and it feels like time’s stopped, like nothing else exists out of his little bubble he’s accidentally created here.

“Your eyes are green,” he mumbles, voice quiet because there isn’t any need to be loud at this distance. He nods and their noses almost bump together. He wants to kiss him.

Atsumu lifts a hand from the counter and pulls his sleeve over it, carefully reaching up to wipe away the soap from his forehead. Sakusa doesn’t move, so he puts it back where it was.

He wants to kiss him so bad.

“I didn’t notice.”

“Most people don’t.”

He looks down at his lips, slightly parted and pink and so soft-looking, then back to his eyes.

He wants to kiss him so fucking bad.

“They look like crystals.”

“Yours look like chocolate. And honey.”

He puffs out a small, quiet laugh. “You got a sweet tooth, Omi-Omi?”

The pout returns to his lips, but this time it’s only just noticeable. “Maybe.”

He really, really wants to kiss him.

Sakusa’s crystal-green eyes glance down for a split second, then back up, blush getting even brighter.

Does he want to kiss him too?

“I like ‘em. They’re pretty. Like you.”

This time, he does feel it on his lips when his breath escapes him. He hadn’t even realised they’d been getting closer. He’s so, so pretty. He’s so cute. He’s so… Sakusa. He’s Sakusa. He’s Kiyoomi. And he really wants to kiss him.

He’s going to kiss him.

“TSUMU! WE PICKED OUT THE MOVIE!”

He lets go of the counter and shoots back, bumping into the table, and swivels his head to look at the door, heart racing and face on fire. “Alright, we’re comin’!” he yells, willing his voice to stay steady. He hates Osamu. He despises him. He is never going to speak to him ever again in his entire life.

“Didn’t need to know that,” Suna calls like the asshole he is, because really, not the time.

Sakusa clears his throat, and he turns to him. “I’m going to go get changed. You can clean up, since you started the fight.”

“But you lost,” he argues, but he’s already walking out of the door.

“I can’t hear you,” he calls.

“Prick!”

Atsumu’s going to kill Osamu.

“What took ya so long?” Osamu asks when he walks into the living room after finishing up with the dishes and going upstairs to change. He flops down on the empty sofa and relishes the way that he sinks into it.

“Where’s Sakusa?” Suna adds on, looking over at the door to see if he’s there.

“Just cleanin’ and getting changed,” he says with a shrug, an answer to both questions, and rests his head back to look at the ceiling, his heart still trying to calm down from the almost-kiss. “What’re we watching?”

“I decided on Brave!” Mama says, and he doesn’t need to look at her to know she’s smiling. She loves Disney movies and that one’s been her favourite for years.

He nods and presses his hand to his mouth when he feels a yawn incoming, exhaustion pulling at his bones and his eyes. Even after getting back this morning, he only slept for a couple hours, and he’s definitely starting to feel the effects – the soap fight and all of its… excitement… didn’t exactly help with his energy levels, either.

“Oh Gods, you’re gonna fall asleep again, aren’t you?” Osamu groans, rolling his eyes.

“Why do we keep waiting for him on these movie nights when he can’t even make it through them?” Suna asks, grinning at him in his lazy, asshole-y way. He sticks his middle finger up at him.

“I didn’t sleep last night, shut it,” he retorts, glancing at the doorway. “Oh, and fuck you, Samu,” he says when he sees that Sakusa isn’t there yet and he can therefore continue to sulk about the fact that he didn’t get to potentially kiss him.

“What did I do?!” he yells, throwing his arms out in the air.

“You ruined my perfect day,” he whines, pretending to wipe a tear away from the corner of his eye.

“I didn’t even—”

“Do you ever stop arguing?” Sakusa asks suddenly, and he looks so pretty even though he’s just in a t-shirt and sweats.

“Aww, Omi, are ya worried about me?” he flutters his eyelashes, putting a hand to his chest. “I knew you cared.”

He raises an eyebrow at him. “No. It’s just annoying.”

“Omi!” he cries, because damn, he’s so fake. Why does he like him again? Other than for his looks. Gods, he’s gorgeous. And he has green eyes.

He rolls his eyes and moves to sit next to him on the sofa, and even though he does that most of the time, it makes the butterflies in his stomach go for a joy ride. “Stop being a baby,” he says, but Atsumu barely even hears it because their shoulders are touching, because Sakusa Kiyoomi has gotten so comfortable with touching him that he can just sit there beside him with their shoulders touching. If he wasn’t such a mess, he’d laugh at the idea of telling his younger self all of this.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, because he’s vaguely aware that he’s been insulted, but he doesn’t even really care all that much. He just wants to hold his hand and kiss his forehead and listen to him talk about the most boring books in existence that he for some reason likes.

Mama rolls her eyes and tells them all with a fond exasperation in her voice to be quiet, and then she places the movie. It’s only about ten minutes in, after Atsumu has hummed along to Touch the Sky – he really can’t help it, he loves that song – that he feels a gentle, almost hesitant weight on his shoulder and he looks down to see Sakusa’s head resting there, eyes half-lidded and directed straight ahead at the TV. He’s actually going to kill him. He’s going to go back to the team after break and tell them all that he has officially killed Miya Atsumu.

He rests his head on top of his, and he melts into it like it’s an assurance that this is okay, and it’s one of the best, comfiest feelings he’s ever experienced. Sitting here, half asleep with everyone he loves, it feels like he’s healing from all the damage Dad started. It feels like he’s been wasting so much time worrying about whether or not he’ll get to be truly happy. If this isn’t real, pure happiness, then what is?

Chapter Text

Atsumu opens his eyes slowly, attempting to adjust to the morning light that’s leaking into the room, to the feeling of a comforting weight across his body and his arm wrapped around what feels like a waist. The last thing he remembers from last night was Sakusa nodding off on his shoulder, and then… holy shit. Fuck carefully adjusting to the light, he doesn’t have time for that anymore. He snaps his eyes open.

He's laying on the couch and it is in fact morning. And Sakusa Kiyoomi is laying on top of him, head resting on his chest, and holy fucking fuck he is the most gorgeous person he has ever seen in his entire life ever. How does he manage to keep getting prettier? How?

His eyes are closed and when Atsumu really focuses, he can feel soft puffs of air through the fabric of his t-shirt and Gods his hair is so soft where it brushes against his bicep. He wants to hold him tighter, wants to run his fingers through his hair, wants to kiss his forehead and gently wake him up to ask if he wants breakfast. He wants to stand in the kitchen, cooking them both something to eat, and know that he’s right there waiting for him. He wants to wear a big hoodie and snuggle in beside him. He also wants to kiss the living daylights out of him, but that doesn’t really fit the whole aesthetic he’s dreaming up here, so maybe in some other fantasy.

He's about to close his eyes again and just let himself sink back into his peaceful sleep, holding onto Kiyoomi until they wake up together or someone else rudely disturbs them, when a bark rudely disturbs them because he just can’t catch a break.

He shifts his head around to see Adzuki staring up at him, threatening to jump on him, and he instantly knows that if he tries to ignore her and go back to sleep, it will only be a losing battle: she is one persistent dog.

He groans and, as carefully as he can, slides out from underneath Kiyoomi, who seems to be the world’s heaviest sleeper, and grabs a blanket from the basket next to the sofa, laying it over him and smiling to himself when he lets out a quiet murmur and curls up underneath it. He is so cute that he genuinely feels the need to squeal which yes, shut up Osamu, he knows it’s embarrassing.

“Okay, lemme get changed and we’ll go for a walk,” he whispers to the dog when she starts running around in a circle, chasing her own tail in excitement. She doesn’t even allow him a moment of peace, following him up to his room and sitting by the door while he puts on some clean clothes. It has been a while since just the two of them went for a walk.

Despite it being fairly early in the morning, the sun shines down with a gentle warmth on him as he walks along the sea front – as per her request conveyed by her barking towards the sea when they got out the front door – and he watches as Adzuki runs ahead of him, the wind blowing her fur back as she goes. It doesn’t take him long to sit down on the sand, watching her go around in circles until she realises that he’s stopped and bounds towards him.

“Hey, pretty bean,” he hums, stroking behind her ears as she pants in front of him, none the wiser to the mess that is swirling around in his head like a tornado of stress. She presses her paw to his arm and, unlike when he was younger and thought she was pushing him away, he knows now that she’s just trying to pet him back. It feels like she’s asking if he’s okay and, well, Adzuki’s always been a good listener.

He sighs. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this about someone,” he whispers to her, voice almost drowned out by the sound of the waves and the light breeze. She tilts her head at him, and he takes it as a push to go on. He’s pretty sure it’s weird to talk to his dog like she’s a real person, but… Gods, she’s just so good for it. “It’s weird cuz like, I care more about his opinion than I ever have about anyone, y’know? I want him to like me. I dunno. I like makin’ him smile and laugh, and I like knowing that he wants me around, but… I really don’t want to lose that. What if I’ve got it all wrong and he doesn’t feel the same? That’d just be embarrassing.”

She tilts her head the other way in a somewhat unimpressed manner, and really, it’s actually freaky how human she can be.

He rests his chin in his hand. “I know Samu told me to stop lettin’ Dad get in the way of my life, and I know he’s right, and I know I’m only hurting myself by avoiding this shit, but… what if it happens again, Zuki?” he asks her, voice strained. “I just want to be good enough for someone and have that be enough.”

She barks at him and jumps up, arms over his shoulders, like she’s hugging him, and his heart hurts a little when a thought pops into his head. “Do you feel like I left you and Mama?”

She licks his face, reminding him that she’s completely oblivious to what he’s saying, and then pushes off of him and runs into the sea.

I guess Samu was probably right….

He thinks of everything he’s said over the years, thinks of Kiyoomi’s words and Nan’s help and Mama’s love, and the fog in his brain clears a bit. The tornado dissipates.

Dad left, that’s true; but no one else did, not like that. He didn’t leave like that. They all just… separated. He still sees Osamu, he still sees the friends that matter, he still sees Mama and Adzuki and keeps up traditions with his brother, and maybe that’s what his rationality has been missing this whole time: the fact that there’s more to life and relationships than either staying in the same place or leaving. It’s more than just separation.

“Fucking hell. I’m an idiot,” he mutters to himself under his breath, because how did it take him this long to realise what growing up really means? Then, just for himself, to bring him a sense of peace, “I really hate Dad.” He stands up, takes a deep breath as he looks at where the sky meets the sea, and runs.

“Hey, Zuki, come catch me!” he calls, and her head snaps up and she bolts after him, and well, yeah, she’s just a dog, but it feels special to him. He doesn’t feel so alone anymore.

He runs and runs and runs until he’s completely out of breath, until he can’t run anymore, and he turns to the sea and screams, just for the shits and giggles. He had a shit dad. He’s been a pretty shit person himself at times. But he’s got some pretty fucking good people around him, and he thinks that maybe he should stop being a petty asshole and just trust them to stay.

He stays out with Adzuki for a while longer, spending time with quite possibly the best dog to ever have existed in the entire history of the universe, and when he gets home, he sits in the kitchen with Mama and Suna, and they all eat cake for breakfast. And he knows they love him as much as he loves them. And it’s enough.

Atsumu gets out of his shower a while later, having spent an unbelievable amount of time pretending he was in an interview with a shampoo bottle, to see that Kiyoomi, Suna, and Mama are all preoccupied painting in the garden, and Adzuki’s asleep on the patio. So, with them all busy and Osamu at work, he takes a minute to watch Kiyoomi paint – he’s really struggling, and honestly, it’s adorable, as well as the fox clips that he is once again wearing – and then grabs his phone and shuts himself in his room, ready to talk to his favourite advice giver who also happens to be one of his favourite and kindest friends. He opens up his text chain with him and types out possibly the most important text message he’s ever sent.

How did you know you were in love with Keiji-kun?

His phone lights up with Bokuto’s face not even one minute later.

“OH GODS, OH MY GODS, OH MY—”

“Calm down, Bokkun,” he says after almost dropping his phone at the volume, attempting to give him an amused smile to let him know that he’s not annoyed.

He holds the camera needlessly close to his face, excitement overriding his knowledge of how to properly facetime someone, and stares into his soul. “Are you in love with Sakkun?”

His face lights on metaphorical fire, and part of him wishes it were real fire. “WHY— HOW DO YOU KNOW I’M TALKING ABOUT OMI-KUN?!”

“Answer the question Tsum-Tsum!”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face and giving up any attempt at arguing it. “I don’t know, maybe a little bit? Or—” he huffs out a breath, trying to get a hold of all the thoughts running rampant in his mind, “I might be getting there, I think. Like maybe I could. Ugh, I dunno, that’s why I’m askin’ you!” Part of him, the part that is still tempted to pretend none of this is happening and that he doesn’t care about anything at all, wants to hang up now. Desperately.

Then Shoyo’s face pops into frame, looking almost as excited as Bokuto. “Hi Atsumu-san!”

“Shoyo’s there?!” His voice definitely does not crack.

They both nod, and then the phone camera pans over the room to show Kuroo and Kenma sitting on the couch, the former waving at him with that lazy, annoying grin.

“We’re waiting for Keiji so that we can start our game night!”

He ignores the fact that it’s not even noon yet. “Wow, great Bokkun, just air out my love life to the whole world why don’t you.”

“The whole world isn’t here though: I told you, we’re waiting for Keiji,” he says with a small smile, and it’s absolutely disgusting and sickening, and he should never speak again because he’s cringe and a simp.

“Don’t worry Miya, you don’t have a love life to be aired out yet,” Kuroo says, and he wants to strangle him.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Hey now, I’m in charge of your—”

“Kuroo-san, stop trying to abuse your power and let him talk! I’ve been waiting for this for months!” Shoyo yells, flapping his hand at him. There is too much happening for Atsumu to try to process this. Months?

“Can ya just answer my question, Bokkun?” he sighs, flopping back on his bed and holding his phone above him. He’s never been all that close with Kuroo or Kenma, but he’s known them a long time, seeing as they saw each other a fair amount of times at Nationals, and also, well, they’re best friends with his best friends – he tries to avoid thinking about how the former technically has some kind of a hold over his career, seeing as he works for the Japanese Volleyball Association. He often wishes he didn’t know them at all.

“Hmmmm,” he drags out the sound as he props his phone up against something, assumedly on the coffee table, and sits on the floor in front of the couch. “Well, I dunno, I guess it was always just a feeling I had.”

“A feeling?”

“Yeah,” he nods, a far-off but gentle look in his eyes. “Like, when I look at him, I just feel safe and comfy and… warm. Like if he wasn’t here then I’d be missing something huge.”

“Koutarou, as lovely as that is, I don’t think it was very helpful for Atsumu-san,” a familiar voice says, and into the frame walks Keiji, giving a polite smile and small bow to the phone. As much as he wants to agree with him, Bokuto’s words do remind him of how he feels, how he felt even at the start of their break.

“How did you know, Keiji-kun?” he asks, because he really needs as much help as he can get, clearly.

He’s quiet for a moment. “I’m afraid I can’t be much help either, Atsumu-san; all I can say is that I just looked at him one day and I knew. There were a lot of occasions like it, where I just felt it more than usual, like a surge of that feeling that I couldn’t really name, but then I just realised. I suppose that it helped that I had been speaking to Kenma-san before-hand about his crush on—” He is cut off by something being thrown at him. He throws the something back. Kuroo has to hold Kenma back.

“Damn, I forgot how entertaining it is watching you four. And Shoyo of course,” Atsumu says with a cackle, sitting up a little.

“Shut up, Atsumu, you are literally prime entertainment with how much of a failure of a human being you are,” Kenma bites once Keiji settles down and decides to give up on his attempt at killing him.

“I miss when you were too nervous to openly be a dick!” he yells back, and it is in this moment that he realises his window is wide open and there’s a good chance his shouting can be heard in the garden. He throws his phone at the wall and runs to slam it shut with a short scream.

“I miss when—”

“Alright, Gods, why are you all so violent,” Kuroo groans, interrupting them, and he looks into the phone camera when Atsumu picks it up, face bright red and hair almost as messy as his. “Look, Miya, if you’re even thinking it, then the chances are you probably are in love with him. Plus, it’s not really that big a deal, since clearly you at least like him enough to be thinking about love, so stop being a virgin and tell him.”

“I’M NOT A—”

“I don’t know, you do seem defensive,” Kenma says, and honestly, he’s tempted to get on a train to Tokyo right now just to kill them all.

“Exactly,” he nods, arm slung over the back of the couch.

“Shut it! If anyone’s the virgin here, it’s you! Ya literally call your boyfriend your fuckin’ discord kitten!” Atsumu shouts.

“No, I don’t!” he shouts back, but the bitchy grin finally falls from his face. He really might go kill them. Apart from Bokuto and Shoyo, who are blessings to this planet. And Keiji, who essentially funds Osamu’s life considering how much onigiri he buys from him. Basically, he just wants to kill Kenma and Kuroo.

“I hate you both,” he groans when they whisper something to each other, probably insulting him, and Kuroo’s weird hyena laugh sounds through his phone.

“But you don’t hate Omi-san,” Shoyo sings, grin huge on his face, and Atsumu can’t really say anything to that because he’s right. And as much of a dick as Kuroo is, his advice does make sense.

“Alright, whatever, thanks,” he says, looking out of the window and down at Kiyoomi, who really is awful at painting. He flips around his camera and tires to zoom in on the easel. “Look at this,” he says through a snicker.

It’s a while later, once he’s been hung up on by the group of horrible, awful people plus Bokuto, Shoyo and Keiji, to go play dumb board games, that Atsumu leaves his room to sit outside and bother the painters.

“Mama,” he greets, walking past them to sit down on the bench next to them, “your paintin’ looks lovely as always. Sunarin, your painting is… well, it’s not awful—”

“It’s definitely better than your face. Go let someone punch it.”

“—and Omi, my sweet, dear Omi-Omi—” why did he say that?—“yours looks like it was done by a nine year old with a very basic grasp on paints, but I love it. It’s really something, and I definitely didn’t make fun of it with an unnamed group of people for a long time.”

“We all heard you shouting on the phone.”

“Okay, and? What, I’m not allowed to have freedom of speech?” he defends, crossing his arms. Kiyoomi looks at him like there’s something wrong with him, which he figures is fair enough, because there probably is, but also how dare he?

“Atsumu, honey, did ya hit your head again?” Mama asks after a moment.

“I don’t know, did you drop me on my head when I was a baby?”

“That feels like a self-burn,” Suna comments, raising an eyebrow at him.

They are all fake and he hates everyone he knows. “I came here to get away from Kenma bullyin’ me.”

“You were talking to Kenma?”

“I phoned Bokkun and the whole gang was there,” he groans, almost having to suppress a shiver at the memory of them all. That was both a great and horrible facetime.

“Oh Gods, I wish I’d been there to see it,” Suna cries, sinking back in his chair. Atsumu sticks his middle finger up at him because damn, fuck this bitch.

“I wish you’d been there to see me fuck your mum,” he retorts. Kiyoomi scrunches up his face at him, and he knows it’s because he’s disgusted or whatever, but it’s so cute.

“You’re awful.”

“You’re adorable.”

“What?”

Oops. Well, it’s fine, right? He can play it off. He flirts with his friends all the time! It’s fine! “I said what I said, Omi,” he grins, leaning in closer to him. He lifts his hand and pokes the two moles above his eyebrow, then stands up and walks into Mama’s studio. “I’m gonna sit in here for a bit, Mama.”

“Oh! Show me your drawings when they’re done!” she says, voice higher pitched. She’s always liked his art, even though he doesn’t do it too much. He learned from her, but volleyball has always been his passion, so he focused most of his energy on that; then, he figured out that he kind of liked guitar and having plants as much as he likes drawing, so he started spacing it all out more. It’s nice though, sometimes.

“Will do,” he hums, taking one look back at Kiyoomi’s blushing face. It’s funny how flustered he gets whenever he’s flirted with – it’s a stark contrast to those small moments that he gets a burst of confidence and makes him blush.

He pulls out a random sketch book that’s lying around and, after a minute, decides on what to draw. Normally he just goes for whatever’s on his mind, and well, Kiyoomi’s on his mind right now, so why not? Maybe if he shows him, he’ll get to see him blush again.

Gods, he really likes him.

It’s after Sakusa and Mama go to bed that night that Atsumu is joined in his room by Osamu and Suna, both of which force him – it really doesn’t take that much effort though – to play videogames like they used to. So, they sit on the end of his bed, Suna on the beanbag, and connect the Nintendo Switch to the TV, ready to waste away until the early hours of the morning playing MarioKart. Aside from the new technology and the different layout of the room and all the other little changes that have gone on over the years, it feels like he’s back in high school, except this time he’s actually happy: really happy, even with the two of them bullying him. It gets even better when he and Suna decide to gang up on Osamu.

They don’t talk about any of the important stuff in here, they never really did: the three of them playing video games, plus occasionally Aran or Gin, was always just time where they didn’t need to worry about anything else, didn’t need to even think. It was just their time to exist and relish in the fact that they were with people who seemed like they would stick with them no matter what. It’s helpful to know that even though he’s a dick, they’ve always been there with him. He should have realised that sooner.

However, towards the end of the night, indicated by the fact that none of them can stop yawning, especially Osamu who’s actually spent his day doing important work, Atsumu makes a decision. To tell Kiyoomi, and to tell them. To confess the truth to even himself.

“I like Omi-kun. A lot,” he says when they’re about to start their last round of races, still stuck on the character screen.

“No shit,” Suna mumbles, not even looking at him. “Literally everyone knows.”

“We knew before he got here,” Osamu adds on, confirming his character and allowing the screen to change to the map selection.

He groans and kicks him without any force. “Shut up. I mean, like,” ugh, why is this so hard? “I’m gonna tell him I like ‘im.”

“Oh.”

“Damn, you finally grew a pair,” the asshole on the bed beside him says, which really, he’d think his brother would be happy for him. What a fake ass hoe.

“I’m literally better than you in every way possible.”

“Yeah, better at being an idiot.”

“Good luck, Atsumu,” comes from the beanbag, interrupting the two of them, and he smiles down at Suna. He supposes that’s the thing that works with the three of them: they’re all kind of assholes, but they’re there for each other when it really matters. “Not that you need it. He’s more whipped than you are, and that’s saying something: Komori’s been complaining to me about his pining for months.”

“You— WHAT?!” Months?!

“Shut up! You’re gonna wake Mama and your boyfriend,” Osamu says, elbowing him in the side.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he argues, but begrudgingly lowers his volume.

“Ugh whatever, can you just pick the rainbow road map? I’m tired.”

He loses the cup, too busy trying to get a good photo of the three of them to put on Instagram with a caption about how much he hates them.

Chapter Text

“I need a haircut,” Kiyoomi groans, sitting in front of Atsumu and blowing his hair out of his face with a roll of his eyes. He laughs and reaches onto the countertop where there are several fox hair-clips waiting after having been taken out of Mama’s room to join the few that have been given to him.

“Well, y’know, I wasn’t joking when I said you should wear ‘em for volleyball,” he says, reaching out for him and carefully pinning back his hair.

“It’s embarrassing,” he mumbles, voice not needing to be so loud at such a short distance. “You might be accustomed to that, but I try not to be.”

“Shut up.” He grabs another clip and takes hold of another black curl, smoothing it back, away from his forehead. “It’s not embarrassin’, it’s cute.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t say anything in response to that, so Atsumu takes the last clip and pins back the rest of his hair that’s in the way. It’s been a couple days since he decided to make it his mission to see him blush as much as possible, and today they’d all planned to hang out together in the garden, along with Aran and Kita. They had just played a game of volleyball with their old net, and Kiyoomi was gradually getting more annoyed with his hair, so once the game was over, Atsumu took his hand and pulled him inside to sort it out for him; not because he needs help with it, but just because he wanted an excuse to run his fingers through his hair.

“It was fun playin’ the three on three,” he says after a moment, sitting back and admiring his handiwork. He looks, as expected, perfect.

“It was. Though, I’m not such a big fan of playing outside.” He turns his head to gaze out the window at the group of people in the garden, each doing something different. Osamu’s bothering Aran about something – which honestly, how dare he do that without him? – and Suna and Kita are talking while petting Adzuki. Mama’s reading the book Kiyoomi gave her for her birthday.

“Honestly, me neither,” he sighs, pushing his own hair back out of his face. “I don’t get how Shoyo likes playing in the sand. Like, that time we played beach volleyball was fun, but playing it all the time? I’d miss the gym too much, the wooden floors, the air conditionin’. Gods, it sounds like a death sentence.”

“You’re too pampered,” he says, although just the look on his face proves that he feels the exact same way. Honestly, Atsumu was surprised he didn’t have to work harder to convince him to play in the garden… maybe he just misses volleyball though. It’s weird not playing every day.

“Says you,” he argues, standing up from his seat and reaching out for Kiyoomi. He takes his hand, so he pulls him up with a smile on his face. “Want me to teach you guitar?”

He grimaces and shakes his head. “How about you play it, and I just sit there and don’t touch it? I’m awful with instruments. My mother tried to get me into violin and piano when I was younger… it didn’t work out.”

He laughs, imagining baby Kiyoomi getting frustrated with ivory keys. “Alright, if ya say so. You’re already obsessed with my singin’, I know it, there’s no need to hide your true feelings, Omi-Omi.”

“I feel like I’ve been quite loud about my true feelings, but if you insist,” he sighs and looks into his eyes. “You’re annoying.”

He pushes him away but lets a grin spread across his face. “Oh, you’ve got such a way with words.”

“Let me rephrase that: you’re incredibly annoying.”

“Aww,” he coos, “ya think I’m incredible?”

“Ugh, I’ve had enough of you. I’m going outside.”

“I’ll go get my guitar and serenade you, my sweet prince Kiyoomi.”

“How about you just go?”

They spend the next hour playing guitar, and while Atsumu doesn’t get to teach him how to play it by taking hold of his hand and guiding it to the correct chord position – you know, like in the movies – he does relish in the way that Kiyoomi looks at him while he plays old songs from their teenage-hood. There’s a look in his eyes, a slight quirk of his mouth, that brings a terrifying but excited hope to his heart.

It's after they’ve all taken a break to eat some watermelon that they decide to sit on the grass – he sets out a picnic blanket for Kiyoomi who wants to read – and talk about old stories, just like they did that first day they spent out together. It’s even better with Aran and Kita here, and Mama chipping in every now and then.

They all split up for the night after the sun has set and they’re all far too tired to talk any longer or try to play one last game of volleyball for the day, waving goodbye to Aran and Kita, and saying goodnight to each other. Osamu, Suna and Mama leave for their bedrooms, and Atsumu takes hold of Kiyoomi’s hand and helps him up onto the roof.

“Before I could drive, I used to sit here all the time when I couldn’t sleep or when I needed alone time,” he says, setting out the blanket he brought up and sitting down.

“It’s nice,” he hums after a moment, a calm smile on his face. “You can see the stars a lot better here than in Tokyo and Osaka.”

“Yeah. It’s one thing that really sucks about the city. Whenever I end up retirin’, I’m coming right back here.” He leans back on his hands and looks up at the sky, glad that it’s a clear night. “I’ve still not really gotten used to living somewhere so busy, y’know? Or… I guess not, since you grew up in Tokyo.”

“Yes, but I never really liked it. I hate crowds, and it was shit getting the bus and train every day for school.”

“Fair.”

“I can’t really see myself past retirement, not clearly anyway,” he says after a moment, voice almost a whisper. “I put so much work into getting a degree for that exact reason, so that if things didn’t work out then I would have another way to support myself, but I want to stay in volleyball for as long as I can.”

Atsumu turns his head to him, looking at the way his face lights up in the moonlight, straight out of a dream. “I feel the same, you know. I mean, I didn’t go to college or anything obviously, but… it’s weird imaging a life without volleyball. I guess that’s why I wanna become a coach or somethin’ when it’s my time to leave. People always say I’m good with kids, so I guess it’s a good option. I don’t know. I guess I’ve just gotta find something I love as much as volleyball, like Samu did.” He doesn’t say it, but as terrifying as it is, he spends a lot of time thinking about the future. Who will be there, what he’ll be doing, where he’ll be… it can be fun sometimes, to picture it all. He knows Bokuto wants to adopt, and he’s pretty sure Shoyo’s going to end up back in Brazil, at least for a few years if he doesn’t end up there permanently.

“I could see that for you. You always seem to be good with the children at our matches. I hate… most children. They’re sticky and awful. My niece is probably the only hygienic child I’ve met.” He shivers in disgust and Atsumu spits out a laugh.

“She learned from the best.”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree and it almost makes him laugh again. “I like that I can see the stars. They make me feel more at peace.”

He hums, inching his hand closer to his on the roof. “I get that too. I guess that like, lookin’ up at all of ‘em, it makes all your troubles feel smaller.”

He’s silent for a moment, then nods, and his head falls onto his shoulder. “Yeah.”

Atsumu lets his head rest atop his, and he knows it’s time, knows that he should tell him now because when else will there be a better chance? It’s clear that he’s not going to get over him any time soon, and despite it being Sakusa Kiyoomi, the man who holds a history of hatred for and from him, he doesn’t want it to be anyone else. He wants to want. He wants to be selfish.

“Omi, I think I like you.”

He feels him go stiff, and then slowly the head on his shoulder moves away and Kiyoomi stares at him, speechless. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to go on.

“No, I know I like you. Like, really like you, in an I could love you very soon kind of way,” he says, and as anxious as he is, he keeps his eyes on his. “Honestly, I think I have for a while, but… you being here has brought it to my attention, I guess. I just, uh— Gods, this is harder than I thought it’d be.” He swallows. “I wanna watch more sunrises with you, Omi. I want to fall asleep on the couch with you while we watch movies with my family. I want to have bonfires and car rides to nowhere and soap sud wars and dumb conversations about whatever.

“I’ve never really been too good with relationships or love or anythin’ like that past flirting, and I’ve got some trust issues that I’m working through, but I just… would like to try. With you. If you’ll have me. You told me to be selfish, so, yeah. I’m trying.”

Kiyoomi’s eyes are wider than usual, and it takes Atsumu a moment to realise through the moonlight that his face is gradually turning redder. What’s going through his head? Is he happy? Upset? Uncomfortable? Trying his very best to stay looking smart and put-together?

“Please say somethin’.”

“I feel the same. In the I could love you soon too kind of way.”

Oh. “Really?”

He nods. “Yes. Honestly, I thought you were just messing with me when you were complimenting me…” he trails off, touching the tips of his fingers to his hair where the fox-clips are still pinned, albeit looser now.

“No way, Omi!” he defends, and he reaches out to gently take hold of his hand. “These,” he taps the clips with his forefinger, “have been drivin’ me crazy.”

“They’re just childish hair-clips,” he mumbles, looking away from him, and it squeezes at his heart because he’s so cute and just so unbelievably different to the Kiyoomi that Atsumu met when he was just sixteen.

“They’re really not just anything. They have been begging me to kiss your forehead ever since you first put ‘em on.” He leans forward after only a second, realising that he can do that now, and presses his lips to the exposed skin for a brief moment. “Ah, mission accomplished.”

“You’re embarrassing,” he says, because of course even after they’ve just confessed to each other, he can still insult him.

“There’s not even anyone else here!” he yelps, and then doesn’t even have the heart to pretend to be annoyed when he sees the soft smile on Kiyoomi’s face; it turns his bones to jelly. He looks down at his lips, then back up at the green eyes focused on him, heart racing.

“Can I kiss you, Atsumu? Properly, I mean.”

Oh. “Are you gonna scream?” he asks, teasing him because it’s all he knows to do. Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, but his free hand takes hold of his jaw and he leans in, pressing his lips to his own. They’re soft and gentle and oh fuck he didn’t realise how much he wanted this.

They break apart for barely even a full second before Atsumu scoots closer on the roof and kisses him again, still just as gentle but more passionate as he runs his hand through the back of his hair, allowing himself to indulge in this moment. He’s never felt this much from a kiss, never wanted it so badly, and it’s amazing. It feels bright and warm and like his whole body’s on fire even though Kiyoomi’s lips are cold and his hand on his jaw is cold, and despite him being a tall, muscular professional athlete, it feels like he could slip through his fingers. He feels him tense slightly under his touch and pulls away instantly.

“You okay?” he breathes out, looking into his eyes that seem to reflect the stars.

He nods. “I just… I’m not good with words.”

His heart squeezes and he smiles, tightening his hold in the back of his hair. “That’s okay, Kiyoomi.”

He shakes his head. “No. You deserve to know that you’re good. Because you are, Atsumu, you’re good. You’re a good friend, a good son, a good person, even if you like to pretend you’re not… also, as much as I hate to say it, you’re hot.”

A single laugh bursts out of him and he grins, resting his forehead against his. “Good to know. Can I kiss you again?”

He rolls his eyes but nods, apparently over his small bout of shyness, and leans back in before he can do it himself. It’s deeper now, a hunger burning in his stomach, and it’s just as amazing but in a different way this time. He hasn’t been too desperate, waiting for this moment for months, but like this, sitting on the roof and figuring out how Kiyoomi likes to be kissed, it feels like he has. Gods, is he glad that he agreed to come here for the break.

He wraps a hand around his waist and, fulfilling his previous wish that came to his mind after that godforsaken dream, pulls him onto his lap, surprised at how easy it is to do so. He gasps into his mouth, and he swallows it down, taking advantage of his surprise to nip at his lower lip and revel in the resulting moan. He almost whines when Kiyoomi pulls away, but it’s only a second before his breath is on the corner of his jaw.

“So hot,” he mumbles, tongue swiping across the tender skin, and he laughs into the night air, breathy and quiet. He slides his hand up the side of his body and takes hold of the hem of his shirt’s neck, guiding him back up to meet his lips, gentle and hot and slow.

After a few more minutes, he pulls away – reluctantly – and grins at him. “I feel like we probably shouldn’t make out on the roof. It’s safe, but… well, I don’t know about you, but my legs feel kinda boneless, and that’s gonna make it real hard to get down.”

Kiyoomi pouts but nods, gazing into his eyes and making his heart go even wilder. He rubs his thumb along his cheekbone. “I’m not good with words.”

“You said that already: it’s okay.”

“But… I like that you’re you all the time. You never pretend to be anyone or anything else. You’re just you.”

“Oh.” No one’s ever told him they liked him for being just him.

“I like everything about you, Atsu.”

His breath hitches, heart skipping a beat, and he leans forward to peck him. “I like everything about you too, Omi.” He reaches up for the hairclips that have almost completely fallen out and pulls them away, admiring the way his hair bounces over his eyes, shining in the moonlight. “You’re stunning.”

“Says you.”