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Atsumu has known himself to be autistic, just not to this extent.
He sits in his room, clutching headphones in his hands going white from strain. It was never this bad when he was younger: he thought to himself, what happened.
Atsumu found himself here after being hit with a reality check earlier on that day. Hinata and he had been cooking food
“What d’ya mean ya haven’t started yet? Ya were supposed ‘ta when I told ya!”
Atsumu can’t even recall what had initially happened, only that Hinata had been wholly unhelpful. He had been thrusted into a seat where he was expected to cheer the team up, tell them all was fine.
It was not fine.
It wasn’t fine, because there were too many people in this goddamn kitchen who were searching out Atsumu when hr himself were wuickly loosing his cool. They had a plan they needed to follow, one which had them finishing cooking at a specific time so they could leave for the hike and then practice some beach volleyball. But now apparently Hinata had not even started cooking- which he was supposed to do 15 minutes ago.
“What should I do?” Hinata has squeaked.
“I don’t-“ he had started scratching at his arm, “you were supposed ta-“
“It’s fine!” Bokuto’s loud voice has interfered, causing Atsumu to snap “No! it’s not fine it’s-“
His throat had restricted itself, only forcing out a croak as his hands begun to click. His feet took him away, hands soothing at the back of his neck.
He couldn’t ask for help, because up til this point he had consistently insisted that no help was necessary. This was a minor thing, like a hiccup or so. He could calm himself down fine.
He stumbled around, sitting down on a chair and shoving headphones into his ears before pressing play on a song and putting it on repeat.
He had begun rocking back and forth, and with that action reality had set in. He never used to have meltdowns like these, never needed to stim- he used to be a normal kid.
Was he supposed to be this way forever? Forced to medicate for his adhd and have sensory overloads at events he wished to go to? It wasn’t fair, he never wanted a life like that.
He wanted to also hang at parties til 4 AM and not leave an hour into it’s start. He also wanted to eat freaky foods without spitting it out because of a special diet.
The most pathetic he felt was at a New Year’s Eve , he had berm having fun, cheering in celebration when suddenly tears were running down his cheeks and every thunder of the fireworks sounded like a firecrack in his ears. He had hated the idea of wearing headphones, just wanting to see once if he could be like everyone else. He couldn’t.
So now Atsumu was sitting upon his bed, in his room, alone. He had always coped alone, never reaching out for help or anything in the past.
It had him realizing it was not by choice- as he recalls a moment in time between him and Kiyoomi. He had been on his way through a meltdown, unable to find his headphones in his bag in front of everyone when the midnight curled man had taken him aside and looked for them with him. It was a moment of clarity, of hope that prehaps he could do it.
A gentle knock came to the door, making his head whip upwards. His brows slanted together in confusion when nobody entered, leaving him starting at the door as if answers would appear. Hesitantly, he made his way over, opening the door only to find the hallway empty.
Instead, his eyes drop downwards. Finding items sitting at the floor with notes attatched. One was a plush from Hinata which belonged to Atsumu, having been unable to retrieve it from where he locked himself in. And next to it sat a blanket which was of the softest of materials from Bokuto. The notes both said “Take your time.” His phone buzzed too, with a message from Samu only showing a heart on display.
Atsumu found his eyesight going blurred, a sob of relief hitting him. It was a sob of acceptance, a sob-
“Atsumu?” His head jerked up, arms full of the items and almost dropping them upon seeing Kiyoomi standing before him, holding a plate of Atsumu’s favorite food.
People around him knew how he worked, knew how to help in their own ways. They were there.
“Can I come in?”
Teary eyed, Atsumu nodded. It was a sob of accepting that perhaps a life like this was possible to survive, with friends and family and lovers at his side.