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Before they became teammates, Kiyoomi had always thought that Atsumu was a ladies’ man.
He’d observed the Miya twins’ fan girls (and boys sometimes, too) show up at volleyball tournaments in high school to cheer them on, waving around glittery paper hearts and screaming their names. Atsumu seemed like the type to relish in the attention. It was obvious he had a high opinion of himself and his skills. Kiyoomi had even heard him argue with Osamu over who had more fangirls.
So it was a shock, the first time Kiyoomi witnessed his new teammate reject someone.
The MSBY Black Jackals had been hanging out at a local bar. A few drinks in, Kiyoomi was a bit buzzed, but for the most part lucid. He’d taken a place in a corner, settling in to watch everyone else make fools of themselves.
He couldn’t help that his eyes followed Atsumu’s form as he sauntered around, head held high and crooked grin in place. Listen: Kiyoomi wasn’t blind, and he was definitely not straight. Atsumu was attractive. There was no question about that. And his pants that night were very, very tight.
A young woman had approached Atsumu, and Kiyoomi watched with interest as she began flirting: There were eyelash flutters, giggles, bottom lip bites… all of the tell-tale signs. She even reached out to touch Atsumu’s exposed bicep.
The woman was attractive, too. Even gay-as-hell Kiyoomi could see that. Her eyes were chocolate brown, and soft-looking hair fell in ringlets over her petite shoulders. A green dress hugged her noticeable curves.
But Atsumu had just shaken his head and broken eye contact. “N-no thanks,” he muttered, brushing past the woman and hurrying away.
After that, Kiyoomi noticed it happen regularly—after games, during fan meetups, at train stations, inside stores. Every time, the person would start to flirt, and Atsumu would go completely rigid before making up an excuse to leave.
Now, Kiyoomi wasn’t the friendliest with fans, or strangers in general. In fact, he was probably worse than Atsumu. But that was just his personality. Kiyoomi was a blunt jerk. He knew it, and he was fine with other people thinking it about him.
But Atsumu? Well, he could definitely be a jerk, but in a different way. He was cocky. Demanding. Always wanting attention. So the fact he seemed completely uninterested in possible romantic or sexual partners intrigued Kiyoomi. More than he liked to admit.
A year into joining the team, his curiosity peaked.
He and Atsumu had made a habit of traveling together daily in the first shuttle from the training gym. Kiyoomi always preferred not to be jammed in with the rest of the team, especially when Bokuto and Hinata were a bit too hyped up.
Gradually, Atsumu started joining him, citing similar reasons.
They had just arrived at the dorms when Kiyoomi noticed a young woman loitering in front of the building. She was dressed nicely in a flared skirt and cashmere sweater. In her hands she held a tray of cookies. Kiyoomi lifted one eyebrow.
“Miya-kun!” she cried as they approached. “Good evening!”
Atsumu nodded. “Um, hey.” He gripped his bag tightly, his shoulders going tense. She didn’t seem to notice, though, grinning and holding out the cookies.
“These are for you! I made them myself. You are my all-time favorite athlete, Miya-kun!”
“Oh. Well, thanks.” Atsumu took the tray and nodded. She continued to ramble on, and in no time had started making advances. Kiyoomi watched, growing more and more agitated, as she kept moving closer. Atsumu was looking increasingly uncomfortable by the minute.
Kiyoomi finally snapped.
“Sorry, but we have to go,” he said, sending her the darkest glare he could muster. “We appreciate your support of the team.” He grabbed his teammate’s shoulder, leading him to the front door of the apartment complex.
It was silent as they took the elevator. Kiyoomi glanced at his companion now and then, noticing the way Atsumu was folded in on himself: arms crossed, shoulders hunched, chin to chest.
It wasn’t until they arrived at their floor and stepped into the hallway that Atsumu spoke up. “Hey, thanks.” He muttered, looking down at the cookies blankly. “I never know what to do in those situations.”
Kiyoomi shrugged. “It’s fine.”
He watched as the man turned to go. But damn, he wanted so badly to ask him what was going on. He couldn’t help it—he really, really needed to know. Which was weird. He usually didn’t care about other people’s lives outside of volleyball.
Oh, fuck it.
“Wait, Miya.” His legs suddenly moved of their own volition, quickly, until he caught up to his teammate. “Can I ask you something?”
Atsumu froze in the middle of unlocking his door. He looked over nervously. “I guess?”
Kiyoomi took a deep breath, steeling himself. He wasn’t used to asking people personal questions. He usually hated it. “Why don’t you … I mean, why do you always, um, reject people?”
Atsumu looked away immediately. He fumbled with his keys as he resumed entering his apartment. “W-what do you mean?”
“Oh come on,” Kiyoomi followed him inside. “You know. People flirt and proposition you all the time. But you never accept. Why? I’d expect you of all people to take any opportunity to take someone on a date. Or to your bed.”
Atsumu threw down his bag, slipping off his shoes quickly and heading to the kitchen. “None of your business.”
Kiyoomi knew that. It really wasn’t his place to ask. But for some reason he couldn’t stop himself. “You have women, and even some men falling at your feet! And you’re telling me none of them are up to your standards to fuck?”
Atsumu flinched. “Shut up, Omi. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re right! I don’t!” Kiyoomi huffs. “So tell me!”
“Why should I?!”
Truly, Kiyoomi didn’t have a good answer. But again, he felt strangely compelled. “Because it makes no sense, and it’s driving me nuts! Why, Miya? Why don’t you accept their—”
“Because I don’t want to!” Atsumu spat, face contorted in distress. “I don’t want to fuck them! Or anybody, alright?!”
The man seemed to realize immediately what he’d just confessed, his expression shifting from anger to fear in a split second. He turned on his heel. His fists clenched at his sides.
Kiyoomi blinked. For a moment, he was entirely confused. Atsumu doesn’t want… anyone? Ever? But that doesn’t…
Oh.
Oh, wait.
Kiyoomi felt so, so stupid. And like a total dick that he’d just harassed his teammate. This was most definitely not how he’d expected things to go.
“Ah,” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “I see.”
Atsumu groaned, ripping open his refrigerator and grabbing a beer. They really shouldn’t be drinking on a weekday, but Kiyoomi wasn’t about to reprimand him now. Atsumu violently popped open the bottle and took a swig.
“So, are you… asexual?” He asked, hesitant but doing his best to show that he didn’t mind. Not at all.
Atsumu glanced over, obviously surprised. “Y-you know what that means?”
Kiyoomi nodded, and Atsumu looked at least mildly relieved.
“Oh. Good. Um, yeah. I am.”
“Okay.” Silence fell again. They both just stood there, obviously unsure of how to proceed. Finally, Atsumu sighed deeply and turned his way.
“Sorry I snapped,” he muttered. “It’s just a touchy subject. Most people don’t get it. I’ve only told a handful of people, and two of them still say it’s not a real thing.”
“They’re idiots,” Kiyoomi said, and Atsumu shrugged.
“I mean, yeah, but it is weird for me, right? Like, I’m this big star athlete, talented, handsome, athletic—”
“Humble too,” Kiyoomi added sarcastically.
Atsumu rolled his eyes. “Anyway, people wouldn’t expect someone like me to not want it, ya know? And it’s hard because, well, I do have feelings for people sometimes. And I like kissing, and touching. But I know that eventually, things will turn to sex. And I won’t be able to go through with it.”
Kiyoomi hummed in understanding. They stared at each other for a few moments before the tension finally seemed to bleed out of Atsumu's shoulders. Without looking at him, he gestured towards the fridge. “Want something to drink?”
Kiyoomi didn’t usually accept such offers from his (messy, often unsanitary) teammates, but he found himself nodding. This was a special occasion. He was eager to show Atsumu that he was supportive. That there was nothing wrong with him, and anyone who thought otherwise was just ignorant and small-minded.
Awkwardly, they settled onto Atsumu’s small couch. Atsumu flipped on his TV—an old volleyball match was playing from his YouTube and for a while they just watched, drinking and occasionally commenting on a certain play.
But Kiyoomi couldn’t just leave things hanging.
Especially when he knew he could empathize.
“I, um, sort of understand what you were saying earlier,” Kiyoomi said. “About not wanting to, um, have sex.”
He felt Atsumu shift, turning his direction. “Oh?”
Kiyoomi nodded. “I’m not asexual, I don't think, but I’m very… picky.”
Atsumu snorted. “Unsurprising.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“No thanks! I thought we just went over this?”
Warmth crept up Kiyoomi’s neck at the teasing. “Shut up, Miya. I’m trying to be serious here.”
Atsumu grinned. “You’re always serious.”
“Anyway,” Kiyoomi tried to quash the blush now traveling to his ears. “I don’t really sleep with people, either. I have, and it was, um, okay. It felt really good. But I need things to be perfect. The right person, the right time, the right setting. I’m not one for spontaneity.”
Swallowing harshly, Kiyoomi continued. If he was going to talk about this, he should cover everything. No matter how embarrassing. “Honestly, I prefer to just… take care of things myself.”
Atsumu’s eyes went wide. “Yeah?”
Kiyoomi nodded. Part of him couldn’t believe he was sitting there, talking about sex and masturbation with Miya Atsumu of all people. But it also felt strangely liberating. The only person he’d ever talked so candidly with was Komori. But that was his cousin. Not a friend or teammate. Not someone he found attractive. Someone he liked.
Kiyoomi gripped his beer, shocked at the unbidden thought. Oh gods, did he like Atsumu? In that way?
No, it couldn’t be. He was hot, sure, but romance? With Atsumu? It seemed ridiculous. Unbelievable. Certifiably insane and—
“Same here,” Atsumu bit his bottom lip, tooth digging into chapped skin. Kiyoomi tried his best not to stare, but it was hard, considering the thoughts that now swirled in his mind. When his teammate looked up at him, hesitantly, through lashes that were longer than Kiyoomi remembered, Kiyoomi’s stomach flipped.
Oh shit.
His expression must have betrayed something because Atsumu’s brow suddenly furrowed. “Omi-Omi? You okay?”
“Y-yeah,” Kiyoomi replied immediately. He tore his gaze away, taking another long swallow of beer.
This was a disaster. Well, maybe not a total one, but close to it. He hadn’t had a serious crush on anyone since Wakatoshi. Even the two people he’d slept with in college were not exactly crushes, just people he’d found attractive and trusted.
But now he had to go catch feelings for his teammate? His loud, annoying, stuck-up teammate?
He’s also hard-working, his heart chimed in. Passionate. Loyal. Really, really handsome and—
“Sorry again for lashing out.” Atsumu said, again interrupting Kiyoomi’s turbulent thoughts. “And thanks for being cool about it.”
Kiyoomi took a deep breath. He really needed to calm down. “That’s okay,” he croaked. “I’m sorry for forcing you to come out.”
Atsumu shrugged, looking down at his beer and rubbing his thumb through the condensation. “I’m actually kinda glad you know.”
Kiyoomi blinked. “You are?”
Atsumu nodded and grinned, big brown eyes catching the light in a way that sent a shiver up Kiyoomi’s body.
“Oh. Well, thanks for telling me.”
The rest of the hangout was relatively normal. They finished another beer each, and Atsumu munched on crackers as they finished watching the match, saying nothing more about sex or sexuality or anything of the sort.
Despite the startling realization he’d made, Kiyoomi forced himself not to let the rest of the night be ruined. Even as he took his leave, he made sure to act as natural as possible, keeping his distance like always as he bid his teammate goodnight.
He’d have plenty of time to figure out his own feelings. Atsumu had said he had no plans to leave the Jackals any time soon. Kiyoomi didn’t either. They had years together ahead of them.
The thought made him warm.
Who knows what could happen?