Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Well, that’s a shocker” comes an all-too-familiar voice from behind him. “Do you ever go anywhere else?” Motoya says as he sinks into the snow to Kiyoomi’s side with a thump.

He doesn’t have to look or respond, not when it comes to his cousin.

Kiyoomi has traveled the world more times than he can count. He has seen everything and anything imaginable. The most scenic beaches, the lowest valleys, the clearest springs, the rockiest volcanos, and, of course, the whitest mountains.

It really should be no surprise that his favorite place to hang around is Nagano prefecture in Japan. That with the fluffiest, whitest snow and happy families.

Love for the country is in his blood, after all.

The curly headed man takes a deep breath in and lies down on the cold surface. His white hair and pale complexion compliment the environment. He looks… wintery.

When he closes his eyes the sun hits his closed eyelids. He can see it, but he can’t feel its heat.

He never would.

“Father sent you?” is all Kiyoomi whispers with a low snort. Sarcastic. He knows his father would never send anybody looking for him.

Motoya sighs when he feels the stubbornness coming from his cousin and looks around.

Mount Kenashi is honestly beautiful.

It’s undeniable, as Kiyoomi peacefully lies on the powder snow under a white covered tree Motoya takes in the scenery.

The children around them are screaming and laughing. People fly by them in snowboards, some making it to the foot of the mountain, some falling before even coming close. Families hold hot drinks on the solid ground, standing under the sun and trying to keep warm.

Christmas decorations adorn the stores at the foot of the mountain, crowns on doors and red and golden ribbons everywhere.

It brings a sense of community to Motoya’s usual loneliness.

It’s… admittedly lovely.

Who would have guessed Kiyoomi has such a sappy heart after all?

Even then, Moyoya will never understand why Kiyoomi always comes to the same spot. Every winter solstice he can find his cousin in the same place. Without fail.

He figures Kiyoomi will tell him when he’s ready.

Motoya lightly plays with the snow at his fingertips, looking down as it falls from his hands in a slow, wintery dance. “Are you going to shut me out again if I say no?”

He means to say it with playfulness, really, but instead his voice comes out weak and his chuckle sad.

Kiyoomi finally opens his eyes to look at him, lighter blue orbs looking back expectantly. The youngest man trying to decipher whatever it is his cousin wants from him.

He thought he made a clear statement when he ceased all communication with his family.

“I had understood you would be overlooking Norway this season,” he said instead, as monotone and stone faced as ever.

“I’m on my way there, coming from South America... you know, he misses you, even if he doesn’t show it. We can tell.” Motoya replies with an air of hope evident in his words.

Oh, so that’s what this is all about.

About how his father had him exiled a couple of months ago.

“I’ll pass. I was planning on staying for the season anyways.” And this time he’s not hiding the truth, Kiyoomi spends every single one of the northern seasons in Japan. He asks for it.

As the youngest of his children, his father used to at least accommodate his wishes.

Not that anybody knew where they came from in the first place.

“Who did he assign this to anyways?” The curly haired man follows up, referring to the continent as a whole. He hopes, since it has to be one of his siblings, the universe would at least let it be Mifuyu.

His older sister would let him be.

Motoya almost loses his head looking back at Kiyoomi, his white hair flips over his eyes with the aggressive movement and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

He was always terrible at poker. Too expressive.

“You haven't heard,” and he was looking at Kiyoomi like he couldn’t believe the question.

“Evidently, I have not, if I’m asking you of all people.” Irritation was clear in his tone. Seriously, what can he do to get some answers around here?

“He… gave Asia to Setsuka,” well, that certainly could have gone better. The oldest of his brothers would 100% be a pain in his ass if he ever saw him.

Great, now he has to be careful… sneaky. He rolls his eyes at the realization.

“But Japan… was excluded this season,” and to that, it was Kiyoomi’s turn to be surprised. Not that it showed in more than a slight furrow in his dark brown brows.

Huh?

“I am not sure I follow, you’re telling me that father…” the curly headed cousin started trailing off “didn’t assign Japan at all?” Motoya nods slowly. “Impossible.”

It should be impossible… right?

It was his father’s duty to look over the world. He couldn’t just turn his back on a country.

Who would oversee the snow? Who would make it malleable for snowmen and snowball fights? Who would ensure families are together, prepared, and cozy for snow days?

Who would keep winter from becoming too harsh?

Who would take care of…

Kiyoomi tsks and turns his face to the side. He spots black and gold gear, along with a soft bleach blonde tuft of hair going up the mountain on the drag lift.

The man’s rosy cheeks and smile compliment his tan complexion, and he looks beautiful as always.

Kiyoomi’s reminded once again of what he’s meant to do. Just like every year.

He quickly looks away, determined to keep his treasure from Motoya’s curious gaze.

“I see what he’s doing… that damned old man,” Kiyoomi whispers as he gets up from the floor. Snow falling off his back.

“Kiyo… wait, I’m sure it’s not what you think…” Motoya says before Kiyoomi has his bare feet planted on the snow and is balancing himself on his wooden staff to get his cousin up on his own feet by the arms.

Kiyoomi pat’s the guy's shoulders, grabbing onto them afterwards.

“Listen. I’ll take care of this, just like he wants, and I’ll meet you back home once the season is up” he says as he turns Motoya around by the shoulders to not feel guilty about his puppy eyes or pout.

Deep down they both know he’s lying, he can’t go back.

“Kiyo, I—“ Motoya started, but it was futile, his cousin wanted him gone. Now.

“Visitation hours are over.” Kiyoomi says curtly as he hans his cousin his own staff and the latter sighs.

“Please just… come back to us” he tries one last time with his face half turned and looking down. He hits his staff against the floor once and with a jump he’s gone in an instant. Kiyoomi breathes out in relief.

Still, he saw it.

Motoya was hurt, but there’s nothing he can do.

Nothing he wants to do.

“I don’t think I ever can…” he answers after a beat, to himself, as he slowly makes his way towards the expert circuit of the mountain.

Here is the thing.

There are thousands of winter guardians, the universe made it that way. So he really shouldn't be missed. At the beginning of time all guardians bowed down to Kiyoomi’s father and were given little individual assignments, they were given regions inside countries.

When father winter had offspring, about 200 years ago, he delegated his forces. All guardians started reporting to his children instead of him for orders, while Kiyoomi’s siblings answered to their father directly.

And when Kiyoomi came around, twenty-two years ago, that equilibrium was disturbed, and a decision had to be made.

The decision was that he would be treated as a low ranking guardian for the rest of his eternal life. Of course, not so explicitly stated.

After all, there are seven continents in the world and his father originally had seven children, so while his brothers and sisters overlook the world Kiyoomi has been stuck with a single country since he turned ten.

At least he has the whole country to himself.

Kiyoomi isn’t bothered, really, he’s always known his father was not expecting to have another child.

All his siblings had reached maturity centuries before he was even born and the need for coverage wasn’t there, but shit happens.

Shit being… well, Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi first served in Japan right when he turned sixteen, as his mother wished.

At that age, his body was still growing like a human child’s. His siblings reached maturity around twenty-five, so the expectation is for his development to follow the same path.

Back then, he had spent most of the season flying around the country and coaxing children to play with snow.

Especially inciting a certain yellow haired teenager and his twin to fight each other in the cold. He’s always enjoyed a good drawl.

Though work never ceased, he had stopped a handful of storms that year from reaching the warm house and country where the loud boy lived. Winter is harsh.

When uncontrolled it becomes deadly.

That’s where his father came in all those years ago. The fucker has been around ever since the world came to be.

Only when the great guardian met his mother, a human, did the family start.

Now, it’s 2020 and the great Jack Frost married a Japanese woman born in the 1800s. His children are half-human-half-immortals and they all inherited his powers… along with his looks.

If Kiyoomi’s white hair, blue eyes, and pale complexion are anything to go by.

His dark moles and eyebrows —and ever denied soft heart— came from his mother, a woman granted with immortality by marriage.

Kaguya spent ten years raising Kiyoomi by herself after the slip up happened. She taught him to love and be loved, but made sure to prepare him for his father’s training.

By the time Kiyoomi finished training with his father to fulfill the duties that he was born for, his heart had grown cold.

He realized that while his mother was ecstatic to have him, his father saw him as nothing more than anybody else.

Everybody around him made sure Kiyoomi knew the equilibrium of the family was destroyed and he was leftover. Destined to be sent in stowaway tasks throughout the remainder of his eternal life.

But now that he’s free from the guardian life he can spend the rest of his life doing what he desires.

With whom he desires.

The thought alone brings a small smile to his face as he walks his way across the mountain.

Cough. Cough.

Kiyoomi huffs as he realizes a woman just passed straight through him. The air punched out of his lungs, making him cough.

God, I hate that shit.

To be frank, invisibility and not being able to be touched by humans sounded like a sweet deal when he first heard, but now… every time he feels the phantom touch it just reminds him of what he can never have.

“Inconsiderate” he’s finally able to speak and is staring daggers into the woman’s back as she keeps making her way down the mountain full of laughter. Stupid people and his invisibility.

Spiteful, he makes an ice cube at her feet and she falls face first a couple meters down into somebody else’s back, making her companion stumble down with her.

A small smile tugs at his lips, he feels smug as he gets ready to jump.

One last look at them and… Oh.

He’s now just standing there, staring wide eyed as they make sure each other is alright. Hands on hair and protective goggles removed to share reassuring smiles.

Ugh.

He stubbornly turns around, stomping before he jumps straight to the other side of the mountain.

He takes in the cold air and the feeling in his belly as he leaps, turning in the air with open arms as he makes a delicate snowfall for the visitors. This is what it’s all about, and it never fails to bring a small smile to his face.

He lands on his feet after a front flip, staff on hand and… hey, he might as well have fun since nobody ‘s watching.

He makes his way quickly to his favorite seat, settling down under a white covered and shimmering tree with his legs crossed. Elbows on his knees and chin on his hands.

And he waits. Patiently.

He waits for the blonde man to get off the drag lift and once he does Kiyoomi breathes out a puff of air and stares.

It’s all he’s ever been able to do with Atsumu.

Atsumu who is now twenty-three and keeps dying his hair the fairly new platinum shade of blonde. He always thought the yellow was adorable, but platinum was beautiful.

Atsumu is beautiful.

Kiyoomi fixes his knit light blue sweater, almost falling off his shoulders and perpetually showing his collarbones. He sits straight and shakes his white curls, looking expectantly at the man atop of the mountain.

Atsumu gets closer to the edge, fixing his black protective goggles and getting into position. But this time he doesn’t look to his side before descending.

He’s alone.

Kiyoomi briefly wonders where Atsumu’s brother is, they always snowboarded together. It’s their family sport.

Though Kiyoomi didn’t wonder for long because Atsumu flashes a smile and starts letting himself be taken by the course. Kiyoomi feels his excitement grow as his favorite entertainment begins.

Go on, then. Show them how it’s done.

Atsumu descends gracefully as always with years of practice fueling his agility. But Kiyoomi knows the blonde wants more of the track and he himself wants to see more.

So he compromises.

Kiyoomi jumps again, this time behind atsumu. He glides through the air quickly behind the man, creating little snow mountains that Atsumu has to evade throughout the circuit.

Atsumu masterfully dodges a bigger pile of snow and subsequent rock as he laughs.

And that laugh was the sole purpose that drove Kiyoomi through eternity.

Both men quickly travel through the air and snow, going side to side, and Kiyoomi lets himself laugh with Atsumu.

He had never been this bold before, even though Atsumu can’t see or hear him. There’s something about the blonde that keeps dragging the young guardian in.

Something about the way he has never questioned any of these things. After all these years.

Kiyoomi quickly moved in front of Atsumu, the wind making his curls run wild as he laughed and kept making little mountains that the blonde avoided skillfully with a cocky smile on his face.

Ever the smug boy he once was, he’s not even shielding his lower face from the harsh winter breeze. Even though Kiyoomi can’t see his eyes or the rest of his face, he knows that Atsumu’s smile is all he will ever need.

The race is over as quickly as it began and Kiyoomi stops midair as Atsumu crosses to the foot of the mountain.

Both of them panting and smiling with child-like wonder.

He watches him take his helmet and goggles off and laugh with his full body as he steps off his board.

Atsumu is gorgeous.

If Kiyoomi was human his cheeks would be blushing.

It doesn’t take long for Atsumu’s friends to find him. The blonde turns to them, handshakes and brief hugs as he smiles and Kiyoomi can see the little puffs of air leaving his lips.

Atsumu’s friends all play the same sport with him. Kiyoomi might know because he might have been watching for years.

Atsumu is about to represent Japan in front of the world with his snowboarding skills and Kiyoomi was now free to cheer him on from the sidelines every time.

Kiyoomi is, and forever will be, immensely proud of his sunshine boy.

He smiles and, in a moment of being too inside his own head, waves goodbye.

Atsumu waves back.

————————

Kiyoomi is —once again— panting, but this time hiding from Astumu. He’s on the other side of the mountain, catching his breath sitting by a snow covered rock.

He had flown away so fast it felt as if he had teleported. He set his staff down and covered his face with his hands as soon as he landed. He now feels that he’s stuck in the position and will never stand again. Frankly, he’s wishing he was emotionally stronger.

He needs to stop freaking out, and he knows it, but some things are easier said than done.

The image of Atsumu’s smile as he waved at him will haunt him until the end of his days.

He needs to forget.

Still, he can’t stop wondering if it was for him. Objectively, it sounds ridiculous, but his head won’t stop entertaining the idea. His hopes have gone up too high and he’s now yearning.

He wants Atsumu to see him.

Kiyoomi gathers what’s left of his strength, pieces himself together, and stands up. He takes his staff in hand, shaking off his shoulders. His heart’s beating like a drum in his ears and his breathing is uneven, but he has a job to do.

So he leaves.

————————

Kiyoomi’s at peace.

After spending the rest of the morning and afternoon fulfilling small tasks all over the country he is able to relax and do what he loves most.

As children’s laughter fills his ears and heart, he gets to forget about his wounded heart. Drowning himself in the joy of creating some winter magic memories for the kids.

Just as he keeps doing time and time again.

If he’s being honest, he’s not supposed to ever get involved with the humans. His only job is to protect them, but Kiyoomi’s been granted a beautiful gift that he can use to bring happiness into people's lives.

So his father’s rules be damned, Kiyoomi never stood a chance to impress him anyways.

Soon enough he notices the sky turning bright orange and pink tones as nightfall embraces the city. The street lamps come on and the day starts to melt away, a few stores already have holiday decorations around them and those light up as well. It’s time.

The snow is due to fall harder.

Kiyoomi helps one more kid make a swift slide on her sled and then gets in the air. One foot higher than the other as he shakes his curls to get in the right mindset, then slowly and delicately he holds his staff vertically in both hands and raises his chin to the sky.

Come on…

Fuller snowflakes fall from the sky and rest atop his nose and eyelashes, he smiles and listens attentively to each of the children being called to their home.

Human parents are so attentive… it makes him miss his mother.

Mother… He wonders what she might be doing to himself as he clutches his staff in hand, reminiscent of her smiles and hugs.

He might be the youngest of his parents’ offspring, but his siblings were never truly around. They only ever gathered when an emergency warranted it, so about twice in Kiyoomi’s lifetime.

March was one of them. Kiyoomi was excited, but it all vanished when he was dismissed in so many different ways all day.

One thing led to another and there was a petty argument Kiyoomi can’t quite remember.

But he left. He was kicked out. Both. Simultaneously.

What makes Kiyoomi so undeserving of anything?

The man wanders through the streets of Nagano, leaving snowmen in just about every street he passes. He’s not lost, but he’s taking the long way to his destination. His feet are driven by muscle memory and his heart is shepherded by love.

Kiyoomi has ended up in the same place every night for years. Ever since he was sixteen..

Now he’s twenty-two, and he knows that’s where he’ll end up every night for eternity if the universe allows.

————————

He’s made it.

He left an infinite amount of all kinds of snowy creatures on the way, but he’s here now.

He stands in front of a small house that he knows by memory. One floor, two bedrooms, one kitchen, and a feel of home. Not that he had ever been inside, but he could tell.

It’s like a magnetic force, he spends his nights watching Atsumu as he decompresses from a full day of doing what he loves. And Kiyoomi’s unsure of what keeps him tied to the blonde, but he often wonders what it would be like to share that routine with him nightly.

What his heart might feel when strong bodies are covered in soft gray fabric and a burgundy mug is glued to Atsumu’s hand. Kiyoomi would lay on the couch and Atsumu would lean on him. Kiyoomi would shield him from everything as he quietly enjoys some baking show until his eyelids give up.

Kiyoomi would take care of him throughout the night, pick him up and take him to bed once he’s completely given in to his tiredness. He would make sure his sunshine boy is comfortable and well rested to continue sharpening his skills the next day. To continue giving his all.

But Atsumu always sleeps on the couch. As if something’s wrong with his bedroom, as if it’s too cold… or too lonely.

Kiyoomi understands the feeling.

The guardian lies down on his back on the back porch floor, one leg bent up and his staff to his side. The littl;e roof shields him from being buried in his own little snow storm as he creates little snowflakes with his fingers in front of his face, a faint light blue magical glow hypnotizing him as he waits for Atsumu to be ready.

He hears muffled speaking and music from the TV, and…

The sliding door opens abruptly.

Next thing he knows, Kiyoomi is standing in a defensive position, pointing his staff towards the man in front of him. He was just about to speak of a well backed up threat when his mind fog clears and he lets down his weapon, it’s just Atsumu.

And Atsumu is staring at him.

What the?

The white haired man stays still as a rock, not even allowing himself to breathe as the honey stare drills holes in him.

“So… ya comin’ in or what?” and Kiyoomi blinks, turns around, and even looks under his bare feet.

There’s nobody else around.

“Seriously, what are you? I said, c’mon,” Atsumu chuckles.

Oh, Atsumu is talking to him.

Oh.

“Err” is all that comes out of Kiyoomi as his mind rambles a thousand miles per second.

What is going on? Why am I visible? Did Father disown me? Is this what happens when you’re disowned by Jack Frost? I can’t survive as a human, I don’t even know how to do taxes.

He rushedly pulls on one of his curls. Still white.

He jumps in the air. He can still fly.

He makes a little snow castle on the floor.

What the fuck.

“Are you trying to scare me? Listen. You… don’t have ta if you don’t wanna, I just thought… well… you… we…” He heard Atsumu start to say.

His Atsumu, whose cheeks are going rosy from the cold and —hopefully— something else. His Atsumu who’s being backlit with a faint warm toned yellow light from his living room lamp and looks ethereal.

His Atsumu who is looking back at him.

Kiyoomi barely smiles. He’s excited.

“I…” he starts and quickly realizes that he doesn’t have any words. He closes his mouth and lets himself stand on the floor.

Kiyoomi is barefoot and surrounded by snow, only barely lit with the remaining light escaping Atsumu’s home.

“Just… come on in… m’kay?” Atsumu softly whispers again, resting his head on the wall next to him and Kiyoomi takes a moment to admire him. His arms are crossed as well as his legs as if he was trying to shield himself from the cold nightly breeze and snowfall outside his home.

Kiyoomi doesn’t have any physical feeling in his body, but he knows he must be cold to the touch. Atsumu must be warm.

Whatever that feels like.

“Okay…” he finds himself softly agreeing.

Atsumu steps back slowly, letting Kiyoomi come in.

Kiyoomi’s careful not to touch him, he doesn’t want Atsumu to be scared. He’s not ready to disappoint, not Atsumu.

Never Atsumu.

Inside his home he stands in Atsumu’s living room after closing the sliding door.

Kiyoomi feels out of place in his soft sweater hanging off his shoulders and cuffed jeans, barefoot, and holding his staff. Kiyoomi with snow in his hair and skin as pale as paper, with soft freckles over his cheeks from the sun and no signs of harm from the cold.

Atsumu’s already standing by the counter, leaning on it with his arms crossed. He looks cozy in his matching gray sweatwear. His hair is unstyled and fluffy, a blonde mess that Kiyoomi would give his immortality away to touch. The blonde’s cheeks remain rosy on tan skin, even when the heater is probably on.

Atsumu is stunning.

And Kiyoomi is getting anxious.

So for a while he let Atsumu stare at him and he stared back.

“I—“ The tallest one begins.

“Ya think yer slick, but I’ve always known what ya are.” Atsumu deadpans, walking over to the counter to grab his burgundy mug again.

If Kiyoomi could go pale, this is the time it would happen. Is he being chastised?

“Huh?” his voice barely comes out a whisper. He can feel his eyebrows furrowing in confusion and maybe a bit of amusement. “Honestly?”

“Ev’r since I was seventeen,” he continues as he slowly pours some liquid into his mug. Something about his passive aggressive tone crawls under the guardian’s skin. Atsumu has his back to Kiyoomi, and the latter is now officially losing it.

“My ma told me an’ Samu all ‘bout winter guardians when we were little,” he turned around. Hips against the kitchen counter and eyes on his mug as he slowly brings it up to his lips with both hands. “Samu never believed, but I’ve always been a sucker for fairy tales. People who make snow? They go ‘round flyin’ an’ protectin’ us from harsh winters…” Atsumu takes a sip of his drink and looks up at Kiyoomi through his eyelashes.

His eyes are on Kiyoomi like a predator and his guard comes up, but he would never even attempt to hurt Atsumu. Not even in self defense.

Atsumu just stands there, sipping his… “Tea?” the blonde offers, blinking up at him.

Kiyoomi slowly shakes his head, mindlessly dissolving the snow on him to not make a mess. He thinks Atsumu might kill him for that. Or for anything, really.

About the tea… technically speaking he can consume human food, but it’s usually just for pleasure. Right now he was too entranced.

Since when do I enjoy being scared?

And as if he didn’t already know, his brain reminds him of the obvious.

He’s doomed.

“You’re telling me that you have known… for six years.” Kiyoomi starts slowly. Atsumu nods, his eyes never leaving the slim man in his living room. “How? Why…? But, you’ve never…”

He has so many questions he can’t even begin to formulate one.

Atsumu lets out a low chuckle, soft. “Told Samu the first year… he thought I’d done lost my mind,” his southern accent was doing inexplicable things to Kiyoomi’s heart.

Is this what panic feels like?

Kiyoomi reaches his right hand up to his chest and lightly squeezes the fabric of his knit sweater. His body was overwhelmed, but his heart wanted more.

“I knew t’was real. Every damn year. Saw ya grow up with us… Saw ya get taller, stronger,” another sip. “Tho’, I still had my doubts, y’know?”

“But, three years ago I confirmed it. Ma helped me ta find a salon an’ I toned my hair. Saw ya almost fall off a tree when ya found out.” Atsumu smiles at him and Kiyoomi briefly chokes on his saliva.

The only noises in the living room are the coughs that he let out on his right hand to his side and the low sounds of the TV.

Atsumu patiently waits for Kiyoomi to pull himself together. An angel, really.

“I was merely surprised,” Kiyoomi finally replies with a raspy voice from his brief scene. Atsumu’s mouth quirks up from behind his mug.

Kiyoomi thinks he could use some water right about now.

Atsumu looks down at his mug, his smile going soft as his hands further wrapped themselves around the mug. Kiyoomi’s sure his heart just did a backflip. “Is that why ya keep comin’ back ev’ry year?”

Sharp honeyed eyes look up at Kiyoomi through thick eyelashes, and the curly haired man is now intrigued by what’s driving the blonde’s expression. Up until now he felt like he was prey, but now Atsumu looks almost… determined.

“I… love this country.” And listen, it’s not a lie, per say.

Atsumu sets his mug down, thumb slowly wiping his lower lip as he looks down at the floor with another soft chuckle. Kiyoomi wishes he could die with that sound alone on a loop.

He would surely thank the universe.

“Mhmm… ya may call me crazy…” he starts as he walks towards the taller man slowly, killer.

Kiyoomi’s not going to survive this.

“But I find it hard ta believe that love for this country brought ya to my doorstep specifically year after year.”

Atsumu stops just short of him and Kiyoomi takes a sharp breath.

What the hell is going on.

“Atsumu…” Kiyoomi whispers as he squeezes his own sweater harder, eyes never leaving the man in front of him.

All soft eyes, homey smiles, and sharp features.

Atsumu is beauty.

“May I at least know yer name?” Atsumu all but whispers. He was holding both of his hands together behind him, then he started slowly rocking from side to side. Call him a coward, but Atsumu seems like the bravest person ever.

The low rumble from the TV is a distant noise in Kiyoomi’s ears as he is mesmerized by the man in front of him.

“Kiyoomi.” the taller man replies, deep blue eyes looking into warm honey ones and holding his breath as if not to scare him away.

“Kiyoomi…” Atsumu repeats back, trying the name out on his tongue, and Kiyoomi doesn’t want to hear anybody else say it ever again. He decided.

His name now belongs to Atsumu.

Lazily blinking, Atsumu gravitates towards him. Kiyoomi’s eyes open up wider, his blood is rushing to his ears and… is he about to die? He has never felt anything like this before.

In a panic, snow piles up under Kiyoomi’s bare feet, making him slide backwards against the wooden floor and taking Atsumu down with him.

Thump.

Atsumu falls against his chest with a muffled yelp and Kiyoomi looks up at the ceiling, internally cursing out his father and the universe for his damn powers.

Then he looks at Atsumu with worry in his eyes.

“My sincerest apologies, are you alright?” Kiyoomi asks as he unconsciously runs a hand through Atsumu’s soft hair, looking for any highly unlikely injuries as the blonde laughs and leans into his touch.

It vaguely reminds him of earlier in the mountain and a shiver runs up his spine.

“‘m fine, Omi. No worries,” Atsumu smiles at him, and it's that full smile, the one that brightens Kiyoomi’s entire year.

And it's directed at him.

Kiyoomi slowly smiles back. “I’m glad. I would hate to see you get hurt.” His hand never leaves Atsumu’s hair, but he gets rid of the snow before it melts on Atsumu’s floor.

“Guess… I just fell for ya, huh?” Atsumu says, his smile turning cheeky and it makes Kiyoomi snort, letting his head fall back onto the beige living room carpet.

“What a corny thing to say… I think you can do better,” Kiyoomi smiles. “No. I know you can do better,” he says as he raises head a bit to look at Atsumu. Here he goes.

“Your quick retorts are deeply impressive. Osamu does not have it easy. I must admit, I’ve become a fan” he continues in all seriousness, his admiration for the man evident in his voice and expression.

Kiyoomi has witnessed Atsumu’s arguments with Osamu countless times over the years, and he was always amused with how witty Atsumu’s tongue could be.

“Gotta show ya sometime, maybe that outta keep ya ‘round,” Atsumu whispers softly, and all of a sudden Kiyoomi is very aware of their position and… their touch.

Atsumu is touching him in countless places, his body against Kiyoomi’s.

The youngest man laughs softly, scratching Atsumu’s scalp. The oldest closes his eyes and his face morphs into a pleased expression, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Atsumu’s touch feels like something he’s been waiting for his entire life, like something he was missing, something Kiyoomi never thought he could feel. Inexplicable.

He had never touched a human before.

He only ever wanted to touch Atsumu anyways.

Kiyoomi smiles, a small, private smile as he moves his other hand to cup Atsumu’s cheek. He doesn’t really know what he’s feeling on the soft, tan skin, but it has to be warmth.

How many firsts can fit into one night?

“Atsumu… you’re… warm?” Kiyoomi means to say with security, but it comes out more like a question. He’s cheesing from ear to ear at the discovery.

Atsumu returns the smile.

“Why, yeah, Omi. Thanks fer noticin’, yer pretty cold yerself,” Atsumu whispers back and one of his hands covers the one Kiyoomi had on his cheek just as he was about to remove it. “I never said ta stop.”

Kiyoomi blinks a couple of times. It feels like his brain is going into overdrive.

How did he end up like this with his sunshine boy?

“Up.” Is the warning he gives Atsumu as he moves the hand on his scalp to his side of his body, delicately patting him so he could let him get up.

Kiyoomi slowly sits up, bringing the man with him. Atsumu keeps his hands to himself and obediently sits in between Kiyoomi’s thighs, bending his knees above one of Kiyoomi’s legs to plan his feet to the side and looks at him expectantly.

When Kiyoomi does nothing but stare, Atsumu takes the lead once more.

“Listen… uhm… what I wanted to say…” his gaze falls, closing his eyes, and scrunching his nose a bit, as if the hanging question had been haunting his brain for a while.

Kiyoomi waits patiently. He would wait forever if he had to.

Luckily, he didn’t wait that long.

“Ya can stay… here. I don’t like seeing ya out there all alone, ya can be here… with… me…” he whispers, making himself smaller, his shoulders sink. Atsumu’s hands are holding each other and Kiyoomi can feel the tension, as if he was fighting to not cover himself completely.

That won’t do. But Kiyoomi is having a hard time finding an adequate answer, so Atsumu continues his nervous speech.

“God I sound like a teenager… was that too much? Oh! And we don’t gotta sleep together or anythin’,” the blonde clarifies quickly, a blush rising to his cheeks and Kiyoomi’s fingertips ache to touch.

So he does, because apparently that's something they do now.

At least it stops Atsumu’s ramble.

“I… could possibly stay most of the night.” Kiyoomi says as he gently strokes the apple of Atsumu’s cheek with a cold thumb.

“I don’t usually stay long after you’ve fallen asleep, unfortunately.”

Atsumu looks up at him, mouth hanging open incredulously. “Oh, fuck. Of course! Haha, how… I mean, I figured ya didn’t stick ‘round, yer usually gone by morning, I just… figured…'' The blonde is rambling again and chuckling nervously.

And is it wrong that Kiyoomi finds it adorable?

But Atsumu looks like he’s suffering as his cheeks turned alarmingly red, so Kiyoomi steps in to help. He thinks he might know what Atsumu is trying to ask.

If it’s the same thing Kiyoomi craved every night for the past six years, he has it covered.

“Would you like for us to get on the couch?” He gently offers, looking at the man in between his legs like he’s precious. And to Kiyoomi, he is.

He internally pats himself on the back for keeping his hands to himself for a full minute. His self control is really showing out tonight.

Atsumu’s head seems to finally stop torturing him, a small pout crosses his pink lips for a second, and Kiyoomi dies a bit inside.

“Please, God. Thank you.” He says as he gets up from the floor, booking it to the kitchen.

Kiyoomi watches him go and when Atsumu starts cleaning he steps up from the floor, grabbing his staff. He turns his back to Atsumu and in a moment of curiosity he holds onto it with both hands, tight.

His grip becomes so tight that his knuckles go white and he trembles. His face furrows and his lips seal. He could see a faint light blue glow coming from his grip, but then… nothing. He stops immediately, swallowing a groan.

“Ready, Omi?” Atsumu chirps from behind him, a smile on his face as he gathers his blanket and pillows.

Kiyoomi sets down his staff on the living room table. “Ready.”

Kiyoomi huffs low when he sits down on Atsumu's couch. It’s not his first time on a couch, his father had let his mother decorate his headquarters afterall. But something about Atsumu’s home was like a hug to his soul, inviting.

His heart jumps in surprise when he feels the other man bundling up to his side with a low hum. Thick, strong legs lie across his own as Atsumu covers them both in a fluffy plaid pattern blanket.

“This okay?” he heard Atsumu’s sweet voice, low and a bit rough. Kiyoomi’s arms wrapped themselves around his body, it felt like it was meant to be.

And it was, admittedly, a bit scary.

Kiyoomi had always been wary of the unknown, until he met Atsumu.

“This is perfect.” He murmured, letting his lips rest atop the older man’s head. His nose nuzzled into the other’s soft hair and he heard Atsumu chuckle.

“G’night, Omi.” Atsumu whispered.

“Good night, Atsumu.”

Kiyoomi stays still, fingers eventually moving slowly, caressing the covered skin under them. At some point Atsumu’s breaths became deep and even, a telltale sign of slumber.

The former guardian stares at the floor in front of them, his heart ached already with the thought of leaving. He sighs and sinks his nose deeper into Atsumu’s hair, shielding the man with his whole body.

Atsumu’s hair smells like berries. Kiyoomi chuckles softly, Atsumu’s scent is nice when he’s so close. It was sweet, just like him.

Kiyoomi never wants to leave it.

His eyes close slowly, his breathing matching up with Atsumu’s, but he’s not asleep.

One of immortality’s downsides, no down time.

And as Atsumu peacefully sleeps on him, he envies the man. A man who can love whoever he wants, who can touch and see who he wants, who can spend his days doing what he loves and work his ass off for what he deserves.

He wants to be like him. He wants to be with him.

Kiyoomi’s mind traveled to the inevitable. Why can’t he just be stripped of his powers?

Maybe if he was he could allow himself to stay with Atsumu.

But deep down he knows only his father can break his staff. It’s unspoken, but he knows, and sometimes he wishes he would.

In times like these, when Atsumu is so close but so far at the same time. When all he wants to do is stay and spoil him rotten. When he wants to take care of the man in his arms forever.

Finally, his wishes have come true and his sunshine boy has noticed him. But he’s not so sure things will stay that way.

Kiyoomi has crossed a line. He invited himself into a human’s home and is now lulling him while he sleeps not knowing if he can stay. Atsumu has fully given himself to Kiyoomi, he trusts him.

But Kiyoomi cannot do the same, not until he knows it will be forever.

————————

Atsumu’s living room clock reads 2:30 AM when Kiyoomi slowly gets up with him in his arms. He debated for the past half hour how he was going to do this and he decided on the plan that would disturb Atsumu the least.

Or at least that was the plan.

He had carefully arranged Atsumu’s pillows on the side of the couch before standing, creating a mountain of comfort where he lies Atsumu’s head and upper body first, placing him on his side facing the backrest of the couch.

Atsumu hums low, and Kiyoomi stays still as a rock praying to whatever God would hear:

Please, I don’t have the heart to leave if he even looks at me.

And it worked! Thanks.

Only when Atsumu is back to sleeping his soft little breaths does Kiyoomi continue by slowly laying his legs and bent knees, resting them against the back of the couch.

At this point, Kiyoomi’s stress-biting his lip as he carefully removes his arms from under Atsumu’s upper body and legs and covers him with the blanket.

Atsumu looks so cozy that Kiyoomi almost can’t leave.

Almost.

His lips were bitten red and his hands were practically shaking when he finally nuzzled his nose against Atsumu’s hair one last time.

“I’m sorry. I’ll come back for you, I promise.” He whispers as softly as he can with a knot on his throat.

His true, silent plea lingering in the air: so, please, wait for me.

Why is he so affected?

Sure, he had been daydreaming of this for six years and he now knows how his sunshine boy feels, but it was just for a couple of hours. He should be able to get over it.

Kiyoomi’s chest aches, missing the warmth of Atsumu’s body as he closes the sliding door to his home and stares at the snow built up under his bare feet. He swallowed a sniffle.

He needs answers. The quicker he gets them, the faster he can come back to Atsumu.

So he does a quick rundown in his head. A rundown that he has already made a thousand times in the last hours, but just to make sure that there is really no other option… ever… at all…

Sigh. He has to go see his mother.

————————

He’s exhausted.

It truly is one thing sneaking around continents trying to not be found out by his siblings, but as Kiyoomi makes his way into his father’s North Pole headquarters his brothers and sisters seem more and more appealing by the minute.

Besides playing a few heavy pranks on some guards, he’s had to crawl, hide, and run all over the damn surroundings as if he was a prisoner attempting a hell escape.

Quite the opposite, actually, he’s trying to get in.

It takes him a couple of trials and a few errors to take the right opportunity at the right moment.

He’s got this in the bag. Easy.

Kiyoomi’s just about to make it to his destination when the creak of a door echoes in the hallway and he quickly glides to hide behind a pillar.

The young guardian is just outside of his mother’s chambers, trying to steady his breathing as he witnesses a guard change.

God, yes, this is it.

He can’t stand the thought of trapping another guard in an ice cube or he really thinks his father will come for his head.

As the guards are chatting their way down the hallway, Kiyoomi quietly sneaks into his mother’s dormitory.

It’s as he’s slowly closing the door behind him that he knows he fucked up.

Shit.

Kiyoomi raises his head, the sharp edge of a blade at his throat. He feels the pressure increase and it makes him swallow, drawing a drop of blood as he prepares to speak.

Now, everything points to the obvious, he should probably attack, but judging by the angle that the dagger is pressed he has a good guess on who it is.

Kiyoomi smiles privately to himself. He’s so proud of his mother.

“Stay.” Whispers a sweet and almost seductive voice into his ear. He nearly gags as he gets confirmation that it is none other than his mother.

“Mother, please” he says with a scowl in a strained tone with the resilient pressure on his throat. That was gross.

He’s abruptly released, Kaguya’s blade makes a pretty metallic sound when it hits the floor and Kiyoomi drops his staff with it, rubbing his shoulder against his ear to erase the memories.

Ignoring his mother’s clear overexcitement for having somebody’s life on the line might be the wise choice. For his mental health.

He never knew for certain, but he has a good idea of what she did for a living when she was a mortal.

A shiver runs down his spine.

“Mother, I…” Kiyoomi starts his sentence, and it’s all he can get out when he turns around to face her. In an instant he’s enveloped in tiny arms and the tightest hug of his life.

He startles for a second, but melts into the familiar touch nonetheless.

Kaguya moves away for a second, hands on his youngest’s shoulders. “Kiyoomi, I beg of you, child. Are you trying to send your mother into cardiac arrest?” The lady has a furrow between her brows as she speaks, but the smile she tries to contain shines through.

She’s proud of him too.

Her son just shrugs in silence and squeezes her back in. That’s as much physical affection as anybody (excluding Atsumu) will get from him and the woman knows it. “I apologize…” Kiyoomi muffles into her shoulder, where his mother can’t see him.

Kaguya sighs and softens her embrace, Kiyoomi’s heart has always been a wonder to her. Her son is a spitting image of her of her own husband, with a hard head and an even harder exterior, always ready to defend their mellow inside from harm.

His mother has never separated from a hug first, ever. Kiyoomi knows she will let him be in her arms for as long as he needs.

But what he needs right now are answers, not emotional cushions. So he lets go of her, but stays standing there.

When faced with the fact that he now has to hold a conversation with the woman, Kiyoomi pointedly avoids eye contact. His chest bubbles with the anticipation of even starting on the topic he seeks.

Kaguya notices his trouble and raises her hands to cup his youngest’s cheeks. “What brings you here, my dearest?”

Simple question, complicated answer.

“Am I not allowed to miss my mum?” He whispers with faux confidence, not once has he looked in her eyes and he’s starting to think he might chicken out.

The whole being-in-love-with-a-human thing… Kiyoomi stops to think that it probably falls last in his mother’s expectations for a conversation after he left home the way he did.

Still, Kiyoomi’s aware that she knows him like the back of her hand and after making his way in the way he did… Well, there’s no looking back.

He can’t go back to Atsumu empty handed, he can do this.

“Although I am sure you do, dear, something’s troubling you…” she starts, giving Kiyoomi plenty of time to open up on his own. She sighs when he just breathes in, slowly drawing circles on his own wrists with his thumbs. “and I’m certain it’s more to do with somebody who’s not family.”

Now, that’s unexpected.

At that, Kiyoomi’s hands drop from his wrists to stay at his sides, his strong jaw clenched and he moves his fingers at his sides to build up the courage.

When he finally looks up from the floor at his mother is to try to read into her brown eyes. There’s no anger, betrayal, or sadness… if anything, there’s knowledge and wisdom.

A bit of smugness at having guessed his issue.

But in between all, he sees the eyes of somebody who has been through an impossible love and made it out alive.

And the first crack appears in Kiyoomi’s barriers.

The dam that has kept his emotions at bay for years and protected his heart from danger is precariously hanging on by a thread. He hopes it lasts long enough to make it back to Atsumu.

Kiyoomi’s eyes fill up with hot tears when trying to speak his answer out loud, threatening to spill as soon as he blinks. His throat knots up and he finds it hard to even breathe. But he finds a way.

“It’s complicated.”

His mother hums in understanding and slowly moves to grab him by the hand and lead him onto her bed.

Her enormous mattress is still decorated by silk sheets and countless pillows, just as he remembers. His own thoughts amuse him, how long was he even gone for? It feels like an eternity.

Kiyoomi sits down with the lady, long legs hanging from the mattress and feet planted on the floor. His huge hands find their way to his mother’s lap and she tries to cover them in her tiny ones.

He remembers how she always did the same when he was a child. His poor mother was always tasked with finding out how he had committed his daily sabotage and inquiring for a way to fix it.

Kiyoomi had always been out of line, and he wishes this time was as simple an explanation as back then.

He takes a deep breath in and starts counting.

One, two, three…

Here goes nothing.

“I’m not quite sure I know where to begin…”

So he tells his mother about the sunshine boy that he first saw when he was sixteen. He describes unkempt yellow hair, like wild spring flowers, and a sharp tongue. A boy who intimidated bullies and teammates alike, a prickly exterior with a precious inside.

He tells her about petty fights, bandages, and tears. How Atsumu’s conviction always got him into trouble, but he never backed down.

He talks about snowball battles and busted lips. The many times Atsumu begged his twin to accompany him sledding in the middle of the night and daring him to not be found out, fuzzy coats and gloved hands carrying their sleds as they inevitably broke into quiet competitions that turned into full blown arguments.

He recalls the first time he saw Atsumu dominate a mountain like he was born for it. “I’m not sure when it started,” he says “but that was the moment I realized I was done for.” He plays with the sheets under his fingers as his mind takes him back to genuine smiles between rosy cheeks and focused honey eyes, a hunger for more.

He skips everything else. He’s greedy and selfish. His and Atsumu’s love is to remain in between them. But Kiyoomi does brag about his platinum haired love and pride representing his country against the world. Snowboarding at the highest stage, right where he deserves to be because he worked his ass off for it, and Kiyoomi was there every step of the way.

And he will continue to be there, no matter what it takes.

Kiyoomi looks into his mother’s eyes, sharp determination in his blue irises. “Mother, he grew up to be the most stunning man I have ever seen. A man driven by passion and love, a man who gives his all even when he has nothing left. He’s a man that I admire and aspire to one day be like.”

He takes a deep breath and swallows thickly, his stomach doing backflips as his next sentence leaves his lips. His mother has done an amazing job of just listening to him, but he knows that will stop now.

“I want to be with him, side by side. I’m tired of hiding. I can’t give him what he deserves, and he deserves the world.” Now that Kiyoomi knows that Atsumu is willing to be with him, he needs to be worthy of him. He needs to be seen and felt.

He knows what he’s asking might sound like madness, but he has his reasons.

And his mother knows. “Kiyoomi… what you’re about to ask of me… is quite complicated.”

There’s the shadow of a frown on her face and Kiyoomi doubles down. “I don’t see the point, mother. I have never been needed, everybody made sure that I knew. I have been treated like a stowaway my whole life, everybody knows, and I know.” Kiyoomi’s frustration is increasing, but his tone remains as it was before. He would never raise his voice at his mother.

But still, his heart hurts, and he can’t have one thing or the other. He can’t be a hotshot guardian like his siblings, and he can’t be human and share Atsumu’s life.

Kiyoomi moves from his spot on the bed to get off, knees touching the decorative carpet under his mother’s bed and he inclines his upper body to touch the floor. He bows at his mother’s feet. “Please, mother… I beg of you. If you know anything, who, what, where… Let me have this, let me have him.” Kiyoomi whispers the last part. He feels vulnerable, small, uncertain.

He knows the rejection is coming before he hears it.

“My dearest, stand up,” comes his mother’s strong voice and he obeys. He stands up to his full height, moving to where she invites him by her legs.

He doesn’t realize the tears he had spilled until he feels thumbs wiping his wet cheeks. He makes eye contact with brown eyes and sighs in defeat.

“Kiyoomi, I understand where you’re coming from, honestly.” His mother starts and lets go of his face, placing one of her hands atop the other on her lap and looking straight at him with security, even when she’s below him. Kiyoomi’s back straightens at the sight, his mother might be human, but her demeanor is as powerful as everybody else’s.

If not more.

She takes a moment to continue, “but I think your view is obstructed. You have a gift, a blessing from the universe that was passed down upon you. I don’t have to list your powers and I know you’re well aware of how important they are to the world. You are important, beyond incredible. A miracle of life itself.” Kaguya reaches out for Kiyoomi’s hand and he lets her grab it, though not returning the hold.

“I say you go back to him and you make sure that you’re both loved the way you’re meant to be loved. At your own pace, and in your own way. No rush.” His mother squeezes his hand.

Brown eyes bore into his soul and Kiyoomi almost shivers at the intensity.

“You go back and you make sure you love him the correct way.”

So Kiyoomi picks up his staff from the floor and places a gentle kiss at the top of his mother’s head. He doesn’t need to agree out loud, his mother knows he’ll do it. A thought crosses his mind and he debates himself for a second and huffs.

“For the record… I’m glad you’re being loved the right way too,” he whispers once he’s standing back up.

He’s seen it throughout his whole life, the way his father and mother unapologetically love each other out loud. They made a promise to love each other for eternity centuries ago and it has never once faltered. Through the good and bad. Kiyoomi has to give credit where credit is due.

His father might be a shitty creature, but as a husband he is devoted. Caring. He worships his wife. He sees through his mother’s eyes, and her happiness is his happiness.

Kiyoomi’s parents were his first exposure to romantic love, and deep down, he always wondered if he would ever find somebody to love him like that.

Admittedly, Atsumu came much sooner than expected. Kiyoomi hopes he can keep him for as long as the blonde lives. Kiyoomi will be there as long as Atsumu will have him.

He clears his throat with his fist in front of his lips after the confession, and prepares to start his walk towards his mother’s balcony. The tall man turns on his heels, facing the outside world through the faraway glass.

He doesn't see it, but he knows his mother is smiling. He doesn’t feel it, but he knows that if he was human his cheeks would be turning a deep shade of red right now just thinking of his love waiting for him.

He’ll make the most of his time, but he won’t stop searching.

He has a lot to think about. His mind is torn between his mother’s advice and what he thinks is best, but his mother knows nothing of the stripping of his powers, he saw it in her eyes. That only leaves his father.

He knows his father can do it. And he hopes there’s another way, really. But he’s running out of ideas.

Unfortunately, he and the old man aren’t on the best terms right now to be doing each other favors. Kiyoomi guesses he can lay low for a bit, enjoy being with Atsumu before making any radical decisions. Maybe time will bring him the right answer.

But deep down he knows that whenever an opportunity arises in the future, he will take it in the blink of an eye. He’s walking a dangerous line. He needs to get his head straight, think objectively.

His father would be a good chance. Maybe next time.

The door opens abruptly just as he’s giving his first step towards his new and improved life.

How does that one phrase go? Speak of the devil…

“Kaguya, my love.”

And he shall appear? Yeah…

His father’s smile drops as he steps in the room, the door wide open behind him as he takes in the sight before him.

“Kiyoomi.”

If sound was a weapon, Kiyoomi thinks, he would be ice cubes on the floor just from that tone.

All traces of an idea to ask his father for help vanish from Kiyoomi’s mind when faced with the flesh and bones. He can’t believe he actually considered it at all, as he immediately ignores the man in second nature and continues his way out.

A firm hand on his shoulder makes him think somebody has other plans for him.

Oh, fuck me.

Of course his father wouldn’t let him go without a scene.

“I believe I spoke to you, son,” Jack attempts again, and Kiyoomi knows he’s giving him a, so called, chance.

The young man rolls his eyes to heaven and back and attempts to walk again.

But the grip on his shoulder won’t budge.

“Greetings, father. I hope you’ve had a lovely trip. I was just on my merry way out. Though, I can’t help but notice you interrupting my current task.” Kiyoomi spits sarcastically as he turns his head to the side to meet his father’s scowl already there.

“I know we raised you better than this, Kiyoomi. You leave home and sneak back in, covering half of our guardians in mountains of snow and trapping the other half in ice. When will you grow up and stop being so careless?” Jack lets out between his teeth, blue eyes never leaving Kiyoomi’s own.

And, listen, he knows he was inconsiderate, but he blames it on his youngest child complex. At least he was already planning on sending apologies on his and Atsumu’s joint Christmas cards!

Kiyoomi’s already got a response ready on his tongue when a rustling noise takes both of the men’s attention, turning their heads.

He hears his mother sigh from the bed and stand up. Atsuyo fixes her gown, wrapping her scarf around her shoulders as she ever so gracefully moves across the room to the door.

She raises her gown up one leg, picking up her weapon from the floor and placing her dagger on her thigh strap, where it usually lies hidden from view. “I’m guessing you two will be a while, so you’re more than welcome to come join me for afternoon tea… whenever you're done here.”

His mother’s calmness is no surprise, after all, nobody alive knows the two hard headed men like she does. And she knows it’s about to get petty.

Extracting herself from the situation is truly the best she can do.

Then, simultaneously.

“Thank you, mother.”

“Thank you, dear, be right there.”

The door closes with a rumbling thud when his mother exits the room and the tension snaps.

Blue meets blue immediately after, matching scowls on young faces. Jack will never look a day past 25 after all.

“Will you let go of me already?” Kiyoomi finally bites out as he shakes the older man’s hand off his shoulder. “Honestly, I’m just trying to leave as you so tenderly asked of me, dear father.”

He shakes his curls shortly, cracking his neck as he tries to shake the feeling of the uninvited touch on his bare shoulder.

His father scoffs. The audacity!

“Last I recall, you’re not on the Christmas invitations list, so tell me, why are you here?” Jack glares at his youngest son, arms crossed above his chest and clipped jaw pointed to the one creature more akin to him than any other.

His father cannot, under any circumstance, know of his true intentions. He would never help him if he did. Honey eyes flash through Kiyoomi’s mind and he has only one card to play.

“Come on, Santa, am I not allowed to miss my mother now?” His father scoffs.

“Here we go again…” The oldest of the two rambles under his breath.

Kiyoomi’s always been amused by Jack’s everlasting feud with the poor ever-happy old man. Mr. Claus seemed just fine when Kiyoomi spent a whole week holed up in his private pantry, indulging himself on cookies, and only found when snitched on by a grumpy elf with no sense of epic childhood memories. His father raised hell on him for eating half of the whole thing, it was golden…

Hey, hey. Focus.

Right, the convincing... “Seriously, this is ridiculous. She raised me for God’s sake.” But it leaves his lips bitter, defensive.

And Kiyoomi knows his father doesn’t buy it when he sees the same eye roll he had just done mirrored right back at him.

Truly aggravating.

“Cut the crap, kid, what were you doing here.” Jack hisses, twirling his staff to his side, a deflection practice he uses when something doesn’t feel right.

Kiyoomi’s eyes linger on the wood and his mind takes him back to the night before, a faint blue light between his hands and his staff fills his memory. It makes a lightbulb go off in his brain.

Well, there’s no time like the present, he thinks as he lets his lips break into a wicked smile and his eyes go somber.

“Ever heard of the fire scripts?” Kiyoomi’s not even done talking when his vision goes black.

When his head and back are slammed against the nearest wall he feels nothing, really, but once his vision focuses he can see the anger in his father’s eyes and that might be good.

Come on…

“Watch it, Kiyoomi. What do you think you’re talking about?” Jack whispers furiously on his face, keeping him on the wall with a forearm to his chest. His father is in the air, postured up against him, ready to attack.

In actuality, Kiyoomi has no idea what he’s talking about, really. The fire scriptures had just been an everlasting warning embedded in his memory since birth, but he has no clue what they hold. Still, for his purpose, he would make a thesis on the damn things.

The thought of a mortal life with Atsumu clouds his judgment and he fabricates the next step of his lie.
Kiyoomi swallows and puffs out his chest. He needs to keep it up.

The young guardian raises his head from the wall, getting closer to his father. He can feel the tension and anger pooling in the man across from him. Fear. “What did you think, old man? That I’d be off into the world for the rest of my days? That I would cut ties with you and just live on?” He chuckles low, mockingly.

His eyes leave his father’s for a second to look to his right. His own staff was on the floor, forgotten, as Jack’s was on the hand that wasn’t pinning him against the wall.

Kiyoomi lets his head fall back into the wall as his mouth turns into a side grin and he eyes down at his father.

“That I wouldn’t come back for revenge?” He says in a whisper.

All the white noise in the room and the ice palace suddenly stops. His father is not even breathing and his blue eyes are now rimmed red.

From anger, Kiyoomi rationalizes in his head. Has to be.

His father’s staff slowly makes its way to Kiyoomi’s chest, but Kiyoomi knows he won’t, he can’t do it.

His father’s heart will not allow him to put an end to one of his own.

Kiyoomi’s certain, because they are the same.

The young guardian puffs out his chest, chuckling on father winter’s face with a feral grin.

“C’mon old man, show me what you’ve got.”

————————

No.

Something's not right.

Kiyoomi regains consciousness slowly, his head doing laps around him as he tries to focus his eyes and sit up from the hard floor under him. He brings a hand up to his forehead and groans low, a hiss making its way out of his body without permission.

His eyes wander all over, he gets glimpses of the place and recognizes his mother’s quarters. But, what was he doing there?

His staff.

Kiyoomi’s head whips around and his temples pulse. His stomach turns in disagreement with the sudden movement. White curls flash over his eyes, but he fails to see it as the sign that it is, his plan has failed.

The room spins around him when he finally makes it to a sitting position and his stomach turns, threatening to give up. He gags, but there’s nothing in his stomach to come up.

His mind is hazy and he’s admittedly a bit confused. How hard did he hit his head?

As hard as it was, Kiyoomi had never felt pain like this, it was quite frankly beating his ass.

He almost laughs at himself, kind of pathetic and ironic.

After a few more seconds his eyes finally focus on the couple in front of him and he goes to stand.

“Mother?” He whispers, holding onto the wall with one hand for support as he fights to keep his eyes open.

He makes out the shape that she’s holding, eerily familiar, but so new all the same.

Father winter is rolled up against his lover’s chest on the floor. His wife’s delicate arms are wrapped around his strong body, and right now she is looking at Kiyoomi with an expression that his fuzzy brain can’t decipher.

He mentally shrugs it off and, once again, his brain reminds him of his main objective.

Kiyoomi looks beyond the couple and he sees it.

His face drops, tears welling in his eyes and he lets go, hitting his back against the wall for the second time that afternoon.

His staff was intact, laying on the floor where he had dropped it last.

Kiyoomi is not human.

And somehow, that’s what does it for him. The dam surrounding his heart gives up, the one that had been collecting cracks here and there but still holding on. Keeping him safe.

His emotional shield is gone and Kiyoomi goes numb.

“Kiyoomi.” His mother calls, her tone ever so calm.

He ignores her, letting gravity take him down onto the floor. He’s guided by the wall and once all the way down he presses his knees against his chest.

“Kiyoomi.” She tries again, the everlasting soft voice of a mother calling for her child. But he’s gone.

Kiyoomi hugs his knees, bringing his head down and arms up covering his head as if to shield himself against the world.

He failed.

“Kiyoomi.” Kaguya calls for the third time, a bit more desperation in her voice. Something is wrong, very wrong.

Kiyoomi’s heart wails.

Tears flow from the inside corner of his eyes and roll down his straight nose, hanging at the tip, and steadily dropping onto his sweater.

In his head, he’s crying silently. In reality, his mother and father can hear their broken boy from where they’re sitting. His devastated cries and shaking body alerting every sense in his two parents who were just feet away from him.

But not for much longer.

Kiyoomi doesn’t know when, or why, but strong arms come up around him. A strong body sits next to his, and a head lies on top of his white curly one. Immediately after that a soft fabric makes its way to his other side, delicate short arms wrap around both men, and long brown hairs get mixed up with short white ones.

It’s an embrace. From his parents. Both of them.

Kiyoomi cries and cries, and as time goes by he doesn’t know what time it is, what day it is, or even what year.

When his mind escapes him he daydreams of bleached blonde hair and dark curls, he daydreams of light and dark brown eyes, he daydreams of shared summer days and soft smiles, he daydreams of a secluded home and a backyard with a dog, he daydreams of sweet scents in the kitchen and a feel of home.

His mind shows him a universe in which he and Atsumu were born the same.

He daydreams of a love that was meant to be. A love that he doesn't know if he can allow himself to have. Not after he had been so selfish.

He knows he’s wrong, he knows Atsumu and him should make the decision together. Still, his imagination shows him what he could have had if he had been convincing enough.

If he had tricked his father into breaking his staff for good, stripping him of his powers, and leaving him a mortal boy with a life full of love to live.

He lies in his childhood bed, unsure of how he got there. Sad blue eyes stare at the ceiling in his old bedroom as they have done for the past three days. The young guardian’s staff, long forgotten at his bedside, propped up against the wall by his father on the first night he stayed.

His father…

“Are you just gonna stand there and stare all night?” Kiyoomi barely whispers to himself, but he knows Jack can hear him from the door. “This is not a zoo.” He follows up, quieter.

And he does feel watched, his parents have not left his side for the past 72 hours and that might be what drives him over the edge.

Despite the attitude, his father steps in. Barefoot steps and deep breaths are all that can be heard in the massive room. Father winter sits on the edge of his son’s bed.

“I must admit, I missed hearing your voice,” he says to his youngest. The faintest smile adorns his lips, but judging by the state of his hair, he’s not faring much better than Kiyoomi.

The curly haired boy doesn’t even look at the man above him, he turns to his side so his back is the one to face the other.

“Japan?” Is the first thing he asks. He has been worried, he left the country unguarded. He left his Atsumu unprotected.

“We got it covered.” Kiyoomi weakly nods.

He waits a couple of seconds, collecting his will and his voice. “Why didn’t you do it?” his voice comes out a thread, breaking and fighting to finish his sentence.

Why is Kiyoomi still not deserving of love?

His whole life he had been a disgrace to the family. Starting with his birth. In Kiyoomi’s ahort life he had made a point of breaking every single family rule and conviction imaginable that wouldn’t put the people or the fate of winter in danger.

So why do they still keep him there? Will eternity be the sentence for his sins? They must know he will not atone.

A man as old as time itself reaches his hand out to his absent son, whose body is currently the shell of the quiet and mischievous young boy he had in his arms so many years ago. He turns the body around by the same shoulder it had threatened before, it does as it’s puppeted, pliant and quiet as it bores its empty icy eyes on him. Jack strokes a white curl from its pale forehead, thumbing along two inherited beauty marks atop the right eyebrow.

Then a voice that comes as a whisper, “Kiyoomi… my son, what’s going on? Why did you lie about the scriptures?” A rough hand runs through his curls, and in his vulnerable state, Kiyoomi doesn’t pull away.

But he remains silent, a million memories of his love flooding his brain and bringing a fresh batch of tears to his eyes. He bites his already red lips to keep himself from letting the tears fall again.

“Your heart is broken. Your soul is wounded, and you came here in search of aid, of familiarity. You came to your mother, a human, because you saw you were stuck in the repeat of history itself.” His father has always been a wise man, he must admit, but Kiyoomi is so lost that he doesn’t know how to find himself back.

He just wants Atsumu. But does he deserve Atsumu?

“Your mother thought… that she had provided you an answer to your prayers, a chance to see yourself and what can and will be if you allow it to...” His hand cards through Kiyoomi’s curls and stops there. “I am sure you were just too stubborn to see that the best thing to do was stand back and cool down.” He’s not mean when he says it, he’s honest, you can’t cover the Sun with a finger and act like it’s not there. Kiyoomi knows. “You’ve always been the most akin to me, after all. I am deeply sorry for that.”

The last sentence runs in his mind for a while and Kiyoomi finally looks up at him, his mind intrigued and a bit surprised.

“I should have given you more. I should have shown you more. I should have made sure that you knew that you deserve to be loved, you deserve happiness as much as the next person does, Kiyoomi.” Father winter says without faltering, a fire burning inside of him, visible to Kiyoomi behind his blue eyes.

“I am sorry, Kiyoomi. From the bottom of my heart. I saw it back in March when I hurt you, and I was foolish enough to believe that you would understand me on your own. Something that I never had the courage to say out loud.” Kiyoomi blinks, sniffing softly and taking in a shaky breath.

When did he even start crying again? Maybe his heart just never stopped.

“Please, my child, love as loud as you can, and let yourself be loved. It is the only thing that will prevail, and you should not let yourself be deprived of it…” He says as he gently wipes a wet nose bridge.

“And a certain blonde doesn’t deserve to be deprived either,” he adds, and now he has Kiyoomi’s full attention.

Huh?

“You knew?” Kiyoomi’s incredulous as he wipes his tears with his long fingers, resting his body weight on an elbow to raise himself off the bed for the first time in days.

He might have just been shocked out of it.

Jack gives him a small, almost sad smile.

“Kid, there is nothing that goes on in my winters that I don’t know about,” and with that Kiyoomi’s stomach drops. “Listen, if you were able to do it, it’s because I deemed you deserved it. All the fun and mischief has always been a part of who you are, even when you choose to close it off to the world and hide your true self. We both know who you truly are.”

Kiyoomi sniffs the remnants of his continuous crying, wiping under his eyes and blinking a couple of times as he sits up on his childhood bed.

“Father, I…” he starts, but he realizes he doesn’t know how to finish.

His heart needs to urgently apologize for the fights and the lies. For the hurt that he caused his fellow guardians, the scare that he gave his parents, and the state that he had been in for the past god-knows-how-many days.

“Don’t you dare apologize right now. I should not have let any of this happen. It’s on me.” Jack continues for him, a soft smile on his face and twinkle in his eyes. It makes him look fatherly, admittedly.

And maybe Kiyoomi has a temporary change of heart about hugs.

Next thing he knows he has thrown himself on his dad, his long arms wrapped around his torso and his red face against a strong chest. Jack gasps in surprise and slowly returns the gesture, his hands finding place in Kiyoomi’s broad back and stroking slowly, patting him like a baby.

Soft steps can be heard from the open door into the room and his mother stands by the bed.

“My lovely boys…” she coos as she all but throws herself on top of them, embracing them both and gifting them with a soft kiss on each of their heads. “I’m so beyond sorry, my dearest…” she whispers as she strokes one of Kiyoomi’s arms over his sweater.

“It’s alright, mother. I promise.” He whispers, breaking off the hug and crossing his legs as his parents sit next to each other in front of him. Their hands find each other naturally and their fond eyes lie on their son.

His mother gently nudges her husband, to which he frowns, looking a bit confused, and then his face lights up.

As if he had forgotten something.

“Kiyo…” his father starts, fishing a small blue box from behind him. Must have brought it with him into the room, Kiyoomi wouldn’t know, he wasn’t looking. “Your mother and I had this made… It’s… from the same material as your mother’s ring.”

Huh?

“Mother’s… ring?” Her wedding band. The only ring she has, the only ring she wears.

The only ring that grants her immortality.

Kiyoomi’s sure his eyes will come out of their sockets when the box is passed to him. Upon opening it, there it is, a wooden threaded ring with a small blue crystal at the top.

He can’t believe his eyes.

“Mother, father, but why…?” He caresses the box, pointedly not touching the ring, it’s not his.

The only thing he can think of is Atsumu. The sweet man plagues his mind and all Kiyoomi can see is an adorned ring finger.

The ring is Atsumu’s and only Atsumu’s.

A sincere smile makes its way through his lips, his eyes crinkle with it and he laughs wetly when he realizes what this means.

“He deserves a choice. And you deserve to live as you were born. Love empowers, it should never weaken. Should you not make use of the ring and still have something else in mind, we speak on it as a family and you will make your decision.” His mother tells him and he dives in for another hug, a short one.

He has somewhere to be.

Kiyoomi stands up from the bed, resisting the urge to jump repeatedly on his bare feet from excitement. His body and mind have been through a lot the past couple of days and all he wants is to throw himself in Atsumu’s arms and never have to leave.

He saves the box in his pocket, smiling to himself.

The married couple gets up from the bed after him. His father goes first, extending his hands to his wife so she can get off without ruining her gown.

Kiyoomi grabs his staff, back to his parents and when they’re both on their feet he turns around to look at them. His emotions have neutralized little by little, slowly going back to his regular self.

“Mother, father… Thank you, honestly,” he inclines forwards, bowing to them before turning around. He opens his mouth again and an apology dies on his tongue. He knows his father meant his words, and he doesn’t wish to take from him and his responsibility as a parent.

He walks to his own balcony this time around and jumps to stand on the rail. He breathes in the cool air and turns around.

His parents are standing there looking back at him, arms around each other and soft smiles on their lips. Kiyoomi does a small wave with his hand and fingers before letting himself freefall backwards into his future.

————————

He’s back.

Kiyoomi is back in Japan, and as his bare feet make contact with the snow of a rooftop in the center of Nagano prefecture a thought haunts him.

A thought he can’t quite seem to catch.

But there’s a rush in the air and more people on the streets than usual. To be frank, he’s almost scared to get off the rooftop.

Even with his invisibility, he’s sure many people will go through him and that idea alone makes his head spin.

He shakes his head and his white curls hit his closed eyes, the thought vanishes with his movements.

Still, the December air is as crisp as all winters and the snow seizes its descent for a couple of hours; though, he makes sure the ground is white covered in fresh snow.

For ambience purposes.

As nightfall blankets the city and the sun rays leave to make space for the chill of the night, the streets of Nagano illuminate in joyous yellow, red, and green something in Kiyoomi’s brain clicks.

It’s December 24th.

His head whips around like a horror movie. How did he not see it before? He leans on his staff as he looks around.

The light poles are decorated with beautiful green crowns, red and golden ribbons adorning them. The trees that have lost all their leaves during the season have been covered with lights in their entirety, turning into the main source of light for the perfect nighttime stroll.

All restaurants have come alive with long lines of people for Japan’s most romantic night of the year, and couples hold hands as they look for shelter from the cold.

Kiyoomi blinks, taking it all in. Once, twice.

He needs to get to Atsumu, now.

The guardian hits his staff against the floor and jumps, swiftly gliding through the night.

His usual routine of going around the neighborhoods and creating all sorts of Christmassy creatures for the children long forfeited.

Sorry, kiddos, not tonight. You'll get it when you’re older.

Kiyoomi lets himself smile as his chest fills up with bubbles when he sees the home he has been missing.

Now illuminated with a light-up fawn and doe family on the front porch and Christmas lights along the borders of the house and roof.

Kiyoomi knows his Atsumu has always cherished the season. Just thinking of his sweet boy putting up all the decorations makes his heart do back flips.

His sweet Atsumu…

Kiyoomi all but drops to his feet in the backyard of the home. He almost goes straight for the door, but his anxiousness makes him take a moment to “fix” himself.

He looks down to his bare feet and jeans, dropping his staff on the snow around him and adjusting the pants at the waist.

Better? There’s no telling, really.

Okay, now. Eyes on his light blue knit sweater, he plays with the way it permanently hangs off his shoulders and shows his collarbones. Nothing to do there.

At least his moles are showing. Atsumu seems to like those.

Next, he gets handsy with a few of his white curls, opting to just leave them alone. There is only so much he can do, really. The curl life is a hard life.

And maybe he should consider getting a different change of clothes.

All ready to go, the young guardian takes a deep breath and nervously taps his pocket, verifying that Atsumu’s present is still there for the third time in the same hour.

It’s not a Christmas gift, Kiyoomi completely forgot about the occasion. That with his last couple of days the way he spent them, he’s just glad to be here.

He hopes Atsumu is too.

Kiyoomi takes a deep breath when the tiny box is, in fact, still there.

“Come on…” He whispers to himself as he grabs his staff from the snow, tapping it a bit so he wouldn’t bring any snow into Atsumu’s clean home.

He slowly, but surely makes his way to the glass sliding door.

Thump, thump.

Now, he doesn’t know if what he hears is his own footsteps on the snow or his heart about to jump off his chest, but whatever it is…

It’s loud.

Keep it together, Kiyoomi, he reminds himself. Breathing in and quietly counting under his breath.

One, two…

Kiyoomi finally gathers the courage to look up from the snow, and when he does his breath hitches.

Atsumu…

His eyes immediately soften and his hand reaches for his heart through his sweater, clenching his fist over the fabric as a way to control his rising excitement.

There he is, his sunshine boy in all his winter apparel glory.

Kiyoomi can’t help it when his eyes fill up with tears, the culmination of the hell he had been through for the past days.

And he hasn’t even gotten to touch him yet.

The guardian allows himself to lose focus of his goal for a second and takes a moment to admire the human on the other side of the door.

Some might say he’s wasting his time, limited as it is for humans, but to Kiyoomi, in that moment, he’s staring into his future. The rest of his life with the boy that he had daydreamed of for over half a decade.

What a thrill to be alive, truly.

Kiyoomi doesn’t get to stare for much longer as Atsumu takes his eyes off his mug, small pout on his beautiful pink lips as he looks towards his back door.

The second Atsumu sees Kiyoomi his eyes light up, the blonde sets his burgundy mug down and almost trips over his own two feet on the way to meet Kiyoomi at the door.

On the way to meet his lover.

Atsumu’s hands have the lightest shake to them as he grabs onto the handle to slide open the door.

It would be a lie if Kiyoomi said —which he probably would if asked— that Atsumu’s nerves don’t make him feel reassured that the blonde feels the same way that he does.

Ah, the details.

The door opens and the couple is finally allowed to breathe the same air.

The cold and harsh breeze from Kiyoomi’s winter makes it into Atsumu’s warm home and the blonde shivers. His feet covered in fuzzy red and black plaid socks and strong body bundled up in one of his many gray sweatshirt-sweatpant combos.

Atsumu’s platinum blonde hair is unstyled and soft, just like last time, his eyes barely red rimmed with the remnants of missing his lover, and his nose and cheeks turning pink from the cold that makes its way in and threatens to steal his warmth.

Not on my watch.

Kiyoomi quickly steps in and closes the door behind him, refusing to see his Atsumu suffer for his brain’s current lack of wording skills and slow reaction time.

There’s a blur after that.

Kiyoomi is unsure of who moved first, but their bodies are flushed against each other for the first time in what feels like years.

Atsumu hangs from Kiyoomi’s body like a koala, strong athlete legs and stronger thighs wrapped around his torso, strong arms around his shoulders and neck as if he would ever leave again.

He won’t.

Kiyoomi’s hands roam Atsumu’s legs and back, embracing his lover and placing tender kisses to his head, feeling Atsumu’s warm tears drop against his icy skin.

“Omi-Omi…” the young man calls softly through his tears, taking short sniffles and deep breaths to calm himself.

“My sunshine… I’m so sorry, I will never leave you again.”

Kiyoomi seals the promise with his lips against Atsumu’s cheek and enjoys the human’s soft calmer breaths against his neck.

He will never hurt Atsumu again.

Kiyoomi plants himself a mission: to soothe his sunshine boy.

“Come on, my love. Let’s get settled in,” he whispers after a couple of minutes of rocking his body from side to side, shamelessly babying his 80kg of olympic athlete.

Thank God for his powers, truly.

With the new point of view he gained on them he now understands that they help him do what he loves most: spoil Atsumu.

All he gets in response is a short, negative, “uh-uhh” and a damp nose brushing against his neck as the blonde shakes his head no.

Kiyoomi chuckles and palms his lover’s back.

Maybe Atsumu would like some familiarity. “Noted, dear. Would you like for me to get us to the couch? Mhm?” He whispers ever so softly against the other man’s cheek, making sure to brush his lips against the delicate skin even after he’s done speaking.

“Yeah, Omi-Omi… That’d be real nice,” Atsumu finally responds, his voice groggy from all the cuddling he’s done in the past ten minutes, but happy.

“Couch it is.” Kiyoomi smiles to himself as he starts to walk, the nickname still doing things to his stomach.

Maybe this is what some may call “butterflies.”

On his way to the couch he notices the Christmas tree Atsumu had decorated with all white ornaments and the presents underneath.

Kiyoomi’s heart is filled with warmth as he realizes the whole place has been decorated, even the couch pillows are now in theme with the holiday.

“This all looks beautiful, Atsu,” he whispers once he has settled in on the couch cushions, spreading his legs for Atsumu to sit in between and the blonde’s legs get thrown over one of Kiyoomi’s. Atsumu’s feet are now planted to the side of Kiyoomi’s body and his head lies against his lover’s chest.

Kiyoomi makes sure to cover them well with Atsumu’s favorite throw blanket and starts placing slow, chaste kisses all over his fluffy head.

“It’s…” Atsumu gets up from his spot in Kiyoomi’s chest. Flushed cheeks and straight honey stare into the other’s icy eyes, as Atsumu places his hands on the guardian’s cold cheeks and presses their foreheads together.

Atsumu’s eyes are closed and his breathing is peaceful, but Kiyoomi cannot stop looking at his tan hands and their proximity.

And then, a content sigh and a whisper so low Kiyoomi wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t /right there/.

“Merry Christmas, Omi-Omi.”

Atsumu lets go of his face and looks up, a blinding smile to go with his honey eyes. The kind of smile that makes Kiyoomi’s heart melt.

The sort of smile that’s reserved for Kiyoomi, forever.

Kiyoomi smiles back, leaning in to rub their noses together.

“Merry Christmas, my Atsu.”

They stay like that for a bit. Their eyes closed and noses side to side, private smiles on their faces. Their breaths periodically slow down and their smiles fall with them, but their hearts remain warm.

Astumu takes his hands to Kiyoomi’s face again and thumbs at the moles atop his eyebrow.

“Can I kiss ya?” Atsumu asks as he looks up to his beauty marks, then lowers his honey gaze to fix it on Kiyoomi’s blue eyes.

The guardian smiles. “I thought you would never ask,” he whispers as he leans forward, hands at the small of Atsumu’s back.

And when their lips touch it’s a seal of fate.

Kiyoomi knows he can never live without Atsumu after that day, and he’s not planning to.

Atsumu kisses Kiyoomi like he never wants to stop and, as the curly haired man gets his hands under Atsumu’s shirt to caress tender and warm skin, he knows they never have to.

After all, Kiyoomi holds the key to their forever in his pocket. Someday he will present Atsumu with the choice and, in whatever way he decides, they’ll be together.

Whether it’s a human life, or immortality, it will be theirs.

Their very own forever.

Fin.