Archive of Our Own

Miya Atsumu, was in all senses of the word, a patient person. He always used to sit sipping on a juice box while his twin brother was taking too long to get ready for school, he always let old ladies in front of him in lines, when he got his driver’s license he took to stopping at every pedestrian crossing and hell, once he even sat next to Bokuto on a bus ride for 5 and a half hours. The last one was much more brutal than the rest, Akaashi and him were still in their honeymoon phase. They still are, but Bokuto found a great listener in Hinata, who, in turn, does all the romantic things Akaashi does for Bokuto for Kageyama. It’s a foolproof system. 

Point is, Atsumu knows how to wait. Did it all his life without breathing a single word of complaint. The person he waited for most, though, was Sakusa Kiyoomi. Waiting is what Atsumu did when he first approached Kiyoomi in his second year of high school at the training camp and asked for a tissue because he was 15 and stupid and had a hopeless crush on the curly haired boy but had no idea how to go about it.

Of course, as it later turned out, that wasn’t the best course of action because instead of handing him a tissue and letting his hand linger near Atsumu’s fingers like the setter imagined, Kiyoomi just adjusted his face mask and promptly told him not to leave the house sick then left. He waited when he got ahold of Kiyoomi’s number through Motoya and texted him after he got home from practice one night in his third year, feeling like… Like one feels when one approaches their first crush, really.

He also waited when Kiyoomi told him he’s going to university and that he’ll go pro later. He waited when Kiyoomi called him sobbing before an exam. He waited for his calls that came more frequently over the few years the curly man attended college. He waited when Kiyoomi told him which train he was taking to Osaka to try out for the MSBY Black Jackals. He waited for him to finish rambling about how good it felt to play volleyball with players who had professional experience when he made him tea the first night Kiyoomi went over to his place in Osaka. He waited for him in the mornings to go to practice and waited for him in the locker room to take the short stroll back to their complex together every day, he waited for him to sit down in the window seat on bus rides to away games, he waited for him while Kiyoomi meticulously wiped down their table at every restaurant they visited. He waited and waited and waited.

But he was damn tired of waiting for Kiyoomi to make a move or give him a sign or drop a hint. Because throughout all the times he was patient with the man, he also found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with him. He made a promise to himself (and to Osamu and to Suna and to Bokuto and to Hinata, the latter two on the list because they cornered Atsumu after Kiyoomi’s first practice with the team and demanded to know how long he’s had a crush on the guy) that when Kiyoomi drops any sort of hint that he wants to be more than friends with Atsumu, he will take a leap of faith and ask him out.

That was circa a year ago and Atsumu was getting really tired of waiting. He hated when he couldn’t see things through and he slowly went from ‘I’m scared of rejection’ to ‘reject me already so I can move on’, which is why he called the Meeting in the first place.

The Meeting was, as its name suggests, a meeting between the parties that were aware of the Scandalous Sentiments for Sakusa Situation (copyright pending). Scandalous, because Atsumu should not be that whipped and hung up on anybody, the rest is just cool words with S. It became a thing after Atsumu got tired of texting their group chat and just plain called them on FaceTime and ranted for over 45 minutes about how Sakusa was even more in shape that day at practice than usual and how he let his hand linger on Atsumu’s back during stretches and no, Osamu, that wasn’t just to make sure Atsumu wouldn’t fall over while standing up, thank you very much. 

Then, it started to happen more frequently and Atsumu took it upon himself to make it a semi-regular occurrence, so they met every two weeks or so, mostly to catch up and partly to let Atsumu pine in peace.  

The current Meeting, however, was not in the spirit of gushing about Kiyoomi, but rather about what Atsumu could do to subtly check the waters. The blond had all the guys in the group gathered at his apartment prior to the weekly movie nights the team had. The Meeting was shaping up to be a rather chaotic one, with Bokuto and Hinata fighting over what movie to watch after and Osamu and Suna being much more disgustingly in love than they usually are. They probably have an anniversary coming up or something, Atsumu can’t really keep track.

Atsumu was pretty bummed that no one was paying attention, he even made a presentation, for fuck’s sake, the least they could do is pretend to be interested in what he was saying. Finally deciding on ditching the waiting game, he opened his loud mouth. 

“Listen up, fuckers, we’re here for a reason, not to wreak havoc!”

“Wow, Tsumu, didn’t know ya had such a vocabulary on ya,” Osamu said and Atsumu smirked in response.

“Surprise ya could comprehend what I sad with that pea brain of yours, asshole,” Osamu just scoffed at this and Atsumu let a smug smile take over his face, “Anyway, we’re gathered here today to decide what I’m gonna do with Omi-kun.”

“No one cares about that, dickhead,” Suna remarked. 

“Believe me Sunarin, if it was up to me, you’d be hearin’ all about what me ‘nd him get up to, but unfortunately for everyone in this room, I haven’t even gotten to first base, so,” at this, he pulled up the slides on his computer, mirroring the screen to his TV. 

The slides were pretty awesome, if you asked Atsumu. They had a space-y theme going on and a whole bunch of pink, purple and blue designs, which, y’know… Bi. Very fitting. The content, however, was pretty much what the audience heard every day, and as Suna’s hand started trailing up Osamu’s thighs, Atsumu faintly remembered learning in high school that you gotta capture the attention of the listeners of a presentation, and realized he should’ve recalled this fact earlier, but what was there to do? He practiced all afternoon, he wasn’t stopping just because Bokuto decided the birds outside were more interesting than what he was saying. 

“We agreed that I’d wait for a sign, right? It doesn’t seem to come, so what am I supposed to do now?” Atsumu concluded, and the question seemed to capture everyone’s attention. 

Hinata politely raised his hand and Atsumu gestured for him to speak. “Make him jealous. Kageyama asked me out because Kenma was all over me. I think.”

“Just Kenma?” Suna asked and Atsumu felt inclined to agree with his question. Hinata pulls .

“Who else?” Bless Hinata’s oblivious soul, “Anyway, I say you should start flirting with someone in front of him. Worked for me,” he said, leaning back on the couch and sipping on a very colorful drink that Atsumu assumed was about 80% alcohol. 

“I’m gonna be real honest here, Hinata, but there is absolutely no way you purposely tried to get with Kenma to make Kageyama realize his feelings,” Suna said and Hinata groggily agreed, “Plus, that won’t work on Sakusa, have you seen the guy? He’s definitely not the jealous type,” Suna added, playing with Osamu’s hair who somehow ended up lying on his boyfriend’s lap. 

“Nah, Sakusa’s definitely the jealous type. He’s all possessive about everythin’. Personal space, hygiene products, pens,” Osamu countered.

“Are ya still hung up about him not lending you a pen when ya had to sign that contract while we were in your shop? Geez,” Atsumu said, rolling his eyes. Osamu’s response was to give him the bird, which, real mature. “But this could work, maybe. Who’d I use to make him jealous, though? Everyone’s taken here.”

“No need to have anyone flirt with ya, scrub,” Osamu said, sitting up, “Just pay attention to everyone but him. But pay him enough attention that he doesn’t think you’re mad at him. But keep the mystery, so not too much attention,” everyone looked at Osamu questioningly, who lifted his shoulders in response,  “It’s a fine line, folks. Ya gotta learn how to balance it.” 

“You could like… Check on everyone but him, but sit next to him, make sure you greet everyone enthusiastically but be a bit less enthusiastic about him. Offer him popcorn but give everyone else their own bowl. That’s what you’re thinking of, right?” 

Everyone was gaping at Bokuto. “Ya player! How do ya know this?” Atsumu questioned, pointing an accusatory finger on the spiker and Bokuto just shrugged shyly. 

“Might be how Akaashi made me realize how much I love him. Earned him a very teary and sappy confession and as it later turned out, he didn’t do it on purpose. Just thought I was mad at him and he wanted to give me some space.”

“Man, I gotta see Sakusa cry, can I be there when he confesses?” Suna asked and Atsumu rolled his eyes.

“He most likely won’t confess, scrub. He probably won’t even notice I’m walkin’ that stupid line ‘Samu’s talking ‘bout. He had like a million chances to come clean ‘bout his feelings, he probably would’ve confessed by now if he liked me,” Atsumu replied, fiddling with his fingers at the mention of Kiyoomi not liking him back. 

“It’s worth a shot. Maybe he doesn’t know he feels this way,” Hinata added.

“So I’m just supposed to manipulate him into confessin’? That’s fucked up. We need a new plan.” 

Everyone stayed quiet for a few seconds, pondering what Atsumu said and they all seemed to reach the same conclusion he did. It was, indeed, fucked up. 

“Okay, how about this, and hear me out on this, guys, you actually suck it up and tell him how you feel? Worked for me and Kageyama,” Hinata suggested and Atsumu groaned.

“Dude, I can’t do that! What if he doesn’t feel the same way? It’ gonna be embarrassing ‘nd he’s gonna hate me for the rest of our lives.”

“Bold of you to assume he’ll remember you forever,” Osamu remarked.

“Not cool, ‘Samu,” Atsumu snapped and at the very least, his twin had the decency to look guilty. “Any other ideas?”

“I say put the moves on him tonight. You don’t have to confess, but do the opposite of what Samu said. Pay him extra attention, cuddle him, all that jazz. You know him well, know his boundaries maybe even better, so you definitely know what’s off limits and what’s on the table in terms of physical contact. I guarantee you, by the end of the night, you’re gonna have him wrapped around your finger,” Suna suggested and wow, that was an actually helpful idea. 

“Sunarin, your brain is so big,” Atsumu said, going over to hug his friend.

“Thanks, your brother gave me a lot of it.”

“And I never want to see either of you ever again, get out,” Atsumu said, pulling a disgusted face and stepping away from his friend. 

“He’s just kiddin’. Have fun tonight, and keep us updated, yeah?” Osamu said, standing up and pulling Suna with him. 

“Sure, ‘Samu. Drive safe.” 

After a quick hug goodbye to everyone, Suna and Osamu left, but not without Suna reminding Atsumu of his comment earlier; “I wasn’t kidding.” Atsumu never felt more satisfied to slam a door. 

Atsumu turned back to the remaining two people sitting on his couch, idly chatting. That was no good. 

“Hey, ya! Get your asses up and help me prepare for movie night!” He called, “Hinata, get started on drinks, Bokuto, help me with the popcorn. Chop, chop, boys! We don’t have all night!”

Both Bokuto and Hinata rushed to the kitchen, and thus began the preparations for movie night. They also might have discussed the logistics of the Make a Move on Kiyoomi Maneuver (patent pending), but that’s besides the point. 

☆

The Make a Move on Kiyoomi Maneuver (MMKM, for short) officially began when the rest of the team , sans Adriah and Barnes, because they had a double date night, or whatever, showed up. The order they arrived in was always the same: Meian, Inunaki and last, but certainly not least (especially not for Atsumu), was Kiyoomi. It was still up in the air if Kiyoomi was always late because he took too long to get ready (he always looked so good ), or because he did not want to be there. Atsumu was inclined to believe the latter, however, he often deluded himself into thinking the former is right. Sue him. The thought of Sakusa Kiyoomi taking an extra 10 minutes to carefully choose his outfit and to make sure his hair falls perfectly, just for Atsumu, was a very nice one. Not that Atsumu believed Kiyoomi dressed up for Atsumu and not for himself, but… Still. 

The MMKM started with the idea that Atsumu would graciously take Kiyoomi’s jacket, which… Did not really go as planned. 

“Hey, Omi-Omi,” Atsumu said upon opening the door for Kiyoomi after he knocked exactly 3 times, as he always did.

“Miya.”

Atsumu sidestepped, letting the man enter the apartment. As Kiyoomi was taking off his shoes, Atsumu examined the situation (and maybe Kiyoomi’s ass a tad bit, he was wearing the sweatpants that made his butt look phenomenal ) and came up with a quick plan; he would take the jacket after Kiyoomi put on his guest slippers. 

The plan, of course, did not work. He leaned over Sakusa to ask “Mind if I get your ja-”, and was interrupted by Kiyoomi straightening, promptly bumping his head against Atsumu’s chin. Ouch. 

Time stood still as Atsumu tried to assess the damage; Kiyoomi was not too keen on touching before, however, Atsumu noticed that he started initiating physical contact a lot more the past few months, with everyone on the team. The unspoken rule, however, was that only Kiyoomi could initiate, that way his boundaries are still respected. Atsumu did not know what the unspoken rule was about headbutting. Probably not something favorable towards him.

But then, the gates of Heaven appeared in front of his eyes, his ears were blessed and his existence and every single thing leading up to that moment, including his sore chin, was suddenly worth it because Sakusa Kiyoomi was laughing . Laughing. It was one of his rare laughs, the one that shook his whole body and made his face almost split with how wide his grin was. Atsumu only heard this laugh, this genuine, unrestricted one a handful of times over his life, but constantly thrived to pull it out of Kiyoomi. Who knew all it took was for Atsumu to make a complete fool of himself? Atsumu was pretty sure his heart stopped for a few beats just so his other senses could fully absorb the moment and remember it for the rest of his life. 

The jacket, of course, was promptly forgotten, the sound of laughter dying on Sakusa’s lips just as fast as it started. He hung said jacket on the hook and looked at Atsumu questioningly.

“Something the matter, Miya? You’re not running your mouth as usual,” even the deadpan, seemingly dismissive tone (Atsumu learned over the years that it was not a dismissive tone, but just how Sakusa talked) could not bring his mood down.

It seemed that it could, however, tie Atsumu’s tongue. “I– Sorry. Sorry for– For the… Head. Chin. Clash.” 

Atsumu heard Bokuto and Hinata snickering from the living room and honestly? He could not blame them. He was a mess and the Make a Move on Kiyoomi Maneuver so far was a big fat failure. All because Sakusa Kiyoomi decided that them bumping heads was hilarious . 

“Eloquent. I bought you something,” Kiyoomi replied and Atsumu tried to focus on the conversation rather than the barely visible flush on Sakusa’s cheeks due to the laughter. Oh Gods. He was screwed. 

Wait. Kiyoomi brought him something? Atsumu gingerly took the bag extended towards him and peeked inside, murmuring a small ‘thank you’ under his breath. His world might be tilting off its axis but he still had manners. Inside, he found a… Actually, he was not entirely sure what it was that he was seeing. 

“Are those– Disinfectant wipes?” Atsumu asked.

“Yes. My favorite kind.” Kiyoomi replied, opting to observe the pictures hung in the short hallway instead of looking at Atsumu.

Atsumu wanted to ask if Kiyoomi actually thought he was a dirty, unhygienic person, or what, but before he could speak up, Kiyoomi did, taking off his disposable mask and dropping it in the trash by the door.

“Never noticed these before. You look good on this one,” Kiyoomi said, finger hovering over a picture taken at their last championship game. It depicted Atsumu in a low squat, setting the ball to someone. The whole reason it was even displayed was because that set was for Kiyoomi, which not only got them the winning point, making them champions but also earned him a slight smile from Kiyoomi (no sarcasm or irony behind it, which is rare) and a ‘good one, Atsumu’, and a pat on the back. A singular one, but it still was significant to Atsumu. And, well, there were pictures taken during the match where you could clearly see Kiyoomi as well but Atsumu worried someone who was not aware of the Scandalous Sentiments for Sakusa Situation (copyright pending) could tell he had a big fat crush on his teammate. Nevermind that he had pictures with both Bokuto and Hinata respectively. Brains worked weird when it came to crushes, okay? Atsumu knew he was stir-crazy thinking a single picture could reveal his deepest secrets.

Anyway, Atsumu had bigger problems to deal with. Namely Kiyoomi gifting him disinfectant wipes and saying he looked good. Not about his current appearance but on a picture, but still. His brain was not functioning. What was he supposed to say to that? “You too”? “I’m in love with you please marry me”? “Thanks”? 

“You guys coming or what?” Meian called, startling Atsumu out of his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder and noticed the gang all seated on his couch, leaving only a sliver of space for one person to sit down. Atsumu held back a huge sigh. Fuck Bokuto and Hinata, honestly. His couch was huge, they could all sit on it if the aforementioned two did not manspread like crazy. 

“Come on, Miya,” Kiyoomi said, tapping Atsumu’s arm as he passed him on the way to the living room. A tap that lingered, for 1, 2, 3, 4 seconds. Atsumu counted, of course. The “how” is a question he could not answer because his brain felt like it was both in overdrive and completely shutting down at the same time. 

He needed to talk to Osamu as soon as possible. “I’ll be right there. Choose something fun.”

“The choice is mine?” Kiyoomi asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. The others groaned. 

The golden rule of movie nights was that the person who hosted got to pick the movie. Atsumu, ever the people pleaser, always tried to choose something everyone would like, but on the rare occasions Kiyoomi hosted, they usually ended up watching a period piece, which only Atsumu could genuinely enjoy besides Kiyoomi, because all of their teammates sucked and had no taste. Atsumu lived to spite them for this. 

“Sure, Omi,” he replied, put down the bag on the counter, and left the ruckus that his reply induced in favor of locking himself in his bathroom and texting his brother.

Atsumu : heLP

Osamu : What? He reject u already? Lol

Atsumu : autocaps are gross

Atsumu : and no, somehow its worse? 

Atsumu : we bumped heads and he laughed?? then shoved a bag into my hand saying he got me a gift??? and its just two packs of disinfectant wipes??? then he pointed to one of the pics in my hallway and said i looked good??????? THEN LEFT A LINGERING TOUCH ON MY ARM AS HE MOVED TO THE OCUCH?????:??:?

Osamu : Lmfao

Osamu : Sakusa bringing u disinfectant wipes is like when cats bring their owners birds I think

Osamu : This is fuckign hilarious I wish I could be there

Atsumu : advice????????

Osamu : Choke

Osamu : Flirt back idk we talked a bunch abt this today I think

Atsumu : u think?????? were u not paying attention to my awesome presentation??

Osamu : No. Lol

Osamu : Have fun

Atsumu : i hate u

Atsumu sighed and leaned on the sink, staring intently at his reflection in the mirror, like people in movies do to hype themselves up. He was not at the point where he would actually talk to himself in his bathroom, when people could hear , but he was close. 

He did not know what to make of Kiyoomi’s behavior. His usual demeanor was in place, but he also felt… More approachable? Atsumu felt less like a satellite in Kiyoomi’s orbit and more like there was a gravity field pulling him towards Kiyoomi. He was pretty sure there was a Harry Styles song about this. 

Plus, if Atsumu did not know better he would say Kiyoomi is flirting, in his own weird way. Which is. Probably not true. Kiyoomi and flirting cannot operate together. Atsumu is convinced that, given Kiyoomi’s bluntness, he would be very straightforward about his intentions towards someone, therefore, he would not resort to trying to seduce Atsumu with his ass and compliments and disinfectant wipes. He would look Atsumu in the eyes, and with all the enthusiasm of a pole, would tell him he likes him. That’s just how Kiyoomi operates. That’s just why Atsumu was so, so very confused.

He sighed, ran his fingers through his hair, and braved the battlefield that would be his living room. The state of it wasn’t too bad, from what he could see, however, upon approaching, three things became evidently clear: first, the movie Kiyoomi chose was Pride and Prejudice, which is coincidentally a movie (and book) Atsumu absolutely adores and a movie Kiyoomi barely tolerates, preferring the BBC series with Colin Firth and avoiding it like a plague most of the time. Two, the only space left for him is on the chaise part of his U-shaped sofa. Three, Kiyoomi has his legs up on the chaise and they are parted, slightly, looking like… Like he’s expecting Atsumu to sit there? That cannot be right. 

“Thanks for leavin’ me any space, guys,” he grumbled sitting on the edge of the chaise, mindful of Kiyoomi’s body to respect his boundaries. He glanced at the man briefly and saw a mix of… Confusion? Disappointment, maybe? In his eyes. Kiyoomi quickly averted his gaze. Atsumu hummed softly. 

“First come first serve. Plus we gotta watch fucking Pride and Prejudice ‘cause of you,” Inunaki replied, sounds of agreements echoing in the room, sans Kiyoomi, which was not unusual, but his silence somehow felt different than usual. Atsumu was going insane. 

“Oi, I didn’t choose it, Omi-Omi did!”

“And who gave him the right to choose?” Meian asked. 

“You did,” Bokuto added. Traitor. He was always supposed to side with Atsumu. It’s in the bro-code or something, probably. ‘Always take your homie’s side in arguments about what movie to watch during movie nights’. 

Atsumu glared at all of them, then looked back at Kiyoomi, who was studying him intently. This time, it was Atsumu who averted his gaze. 

“Whatever. Ya guys know where to find anythin’ if yer thirsty or hungry. Let’s jus’ watch.” 

“You gotta hit the lights first, Miya,” Kiyoomi spoke up, right as Hinata was about to press play. 

“Wha’? We never turn off the lights! Why now?” Atsumu asked, not really wanting to get up from his spot.

“Summer. Days are longer. Sun’s up longer and there’s a glare. Go,” Kiyoomi ordered, nudging Atsumu with one of his feet. “And also grab me a cup of whatever soda you have, please.”

Atsumu tried not to look too flustered about the fact that Kiyoomi trusted him enough to grab him a cup of whatever soda he has , but judging by the looks Bokuto and Hinata, and even Meian and Inunaki were giving him, he was probably failing. 

“Get me something as well,” Inunaki chirped up. 

“Get something for yourself,” Kiyoomi replied immediately and Atsumu felt his world tilt off its axis for the nth time that night. 

The team erupted in laughter as Inunaki grumbled, and Atsumu let out a low chuckle, going over to his kitchen to fetch Kiyoomi a glass of orange soda, the kind he knew the spiker preferred. 

The floor plan of his apartment was open, allowing Atsumu a clear view of Inunaki arguing, or rather, attempting to argue, with Kiyoomi, who was on his phone. Atsumu laughed quietly at Inunaki’s scandalized face at the fact that Kiyoomi wasn’t paying any attention to him. 

He finished pouring the soda for Kiyoomi, and that’s when Atsumu felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out, assuming it would be Osamu asking for an update, but the notification on his phone made him almost drop the glass he was holding.

Omi : ›1 attachment‹

Omi: Inunaki @ me rn.

The attachment was a very low quality image of an angry-looking cat. Atsumu stared at it for a solid 10 seconds, before deciding that Kiyoomi must have saved the picture moments before, because he had never sent a reaction picture, ever, in the history of their friendship. Plus, Atsumu was sure if he googled “angry cat meme”, that would be one of the first results. He opted to reply with a short ‘lmfaooooo fr’, like the chill dude he was, then pocketed his phone.

He reluctantly poured a glass of coke for Inunaki, and took both glasses back to the living room, turning the lights off with his elbow in the process. He handed Inunaki his drink, and extended Kiyoomi’s towards the spiker, who took it after letting– Letting his fingers linger on Atsumu’s? What was happening? 

Atsumu was convinced he was going to go crazy by the end of the night. Kiyoomi was… Like… Flirting? But… No, he couldn’t be. That’s silly. Atsumu had already decided that Kiyoomi was not the type of person who would do that… Right? Atsumu desperately wished Bokuto and Hinata were less oblivious and would actually pay attention to his interactions with Kiyoomi. How else would they dissect the situation at the next Meeting? They were betraying him. Traitors. 

Atsumu sat back down after studying Kiyoomi for a few seconds (who genuinely acted like nothing happened, even holding Atsumu’s gaze), his back towards the spiker.

“You can press play now, Bokuto!” Hinata said, lacking the usual enthusiasm, due to the fact that, as it was previously established, he was tasteless , and did not like Pride and Prejudice. 

“Yeah, let’s just get this over with,” Meian sighed, which earned him a scoff from Kiyoomi.

“You just can’t appreciate good cinema,” Kiyoomi said, slightly startling Atsumu. He was closer than Atsumu remembered him being. Or he was just going crazy. The latter seemed to be the conclusion that would be drawn from that particular movie night. 

“Like you can! You quite literally ranted for ten minutes when we talked about it a few weeks ago! You told us, in excruciating detail, might I add, that that actor played that guy differently than that other British actor did in that other adaptation,” Inunaki replied, putting his glass down on the table. 

“Matthew McFayden and Colin Firth, thank ya very much, Wan-san! Stop arguin’ with Omi-Omi and just watch the movie, ‘kay?” Atsumu said, trying to settle the argument.

“But he started it!” Inunaki defended, and Atsumu decided he would not grace his friend and teammate with a reply. He would survive. 

“Bokuto, just play the movie.”

☆

Things were going swimmingly, if you asked Atsumu. The story of Lizzie and Darcy distracted him from the failure that MMKM was so far, and his fascination with the movie also helped ease the nerves that were present due to Kiyoomi sitting a few feet away from him.

What it could not distract him from was, however, the crick in his neck and slight ache in his back. Given his occupation as an athlete, he was in great shape, but back support was something that everyone needed and at that moment, Atsumu lacked. He debated his choices, and settled on just staying in place. Hinata and Bokuto were dozing off, Inunaki and Meian did not have space around them and Kiyoomi… Kiyoomi would probably bleach all of his clothes completely before letting Atsumu in his space like that. 

He rubbed at his neck and back a bit, trying to ease the pain, when he received a notification. 

Omi-Omi: Is your back okay? 

Atsumu looked over his shoulder to search Kiyoomi’s eyes, and when he found them, he just saw genuine concern. Fuck, Atsumu was sure he was going to die. 

Kiyoomi raised his eyebrows and Atsumu realized he can’t exactly lie, since Kiyoomi saw him shift in discomfort for the past 10 minutes. He nodded. 

Now, Atsumu expected Kiyoomi to perhaps offer to switch seats with him, or tell Atsumu to grab a chair from his dining room so he’d have some sort of support, but instead, Kiyoomi did a thing Atsumu swore to remember for the rest of his life. He opened his arms, as an invitation for Atsumu to cuddle up to him. 

Now, if asked, Atsumu would tell you he handled the situation with grace; he definitely did not blush so deep he felt all the blood rush into his face, he also did not let out a squeak and lastly, he 100% did not pull a muscle in his neck from snapping his head back to his phone. No sir. 

Atsumu knew Kiyoomi was awaiting a reply, so he only let himself hesitate for a few seconds. In those few seconds, he decided he would deal with everything, in his head, in his heart, after Kiyoomi is gone. He would just let himself enjoy the privilege of cuddling Sakusa Kiyoomi.

He turned towards Kiyoomi, whose arms were dropped, but his body language still was an invitation, and he started crawling towards him, which prompted a crooked grin from Kiyoomi. Atsumu looked away before he did something stupid like kiss him or ask him to marry him. 

Once he was close enough, he hesitated again. What was okay for Kiyoomi? Should he just sit down in the sliver of space between Kiyoomi and the armrest? 

For the thousandth time that night, Kiyoomi surprised Atsumu by pulling him down, essentially making Atsumu half-straddle Kiyoomi and lean against his left arm. 

“Comfy?” Kiyoomi asked, voice low and so, so very close to Atsumu’s ear. Atsumu gulped and tried not to let his emotions show anywhere on his body. “Wiggle around however you feel most comfortable, okay? It’s completely fine by me.” 

“Okay,” Atsumu replied softly and slid between Kiyoomi and the armrest, putting his legs over Kiyoomi’s, leaning in the corner of the couch. Kiyoomi hummed and slid closer to Atsumu, arms wrapping around the blonde’s shoulder. 

Atsumu’s brain short-circuited. He did not know what was happening, and seemingly his mind did not even want to process it. His heart was leaping out of his chest, it was beating so fast, he feared Kiyoomi would hear it. He waited for his thoughts to settle, and when they were still running wild Atsumu started doing what he knew best: ignoring the situation. 

He turned his attention back towards the movie, where Elizabeth was currently dancing with Mr. Collins. His favorite scene, where Elizabeth danced with Darcy was coming up, and he once again became fixated on the screen, yet somehow was still keenly aware of Kiyoomi’s arm on his shoulder. It was both distracting and grounding at the same time. 

“This is your favorite scene, no?” Kiyoomi whispered in Atsumu’s ear, making a shiver run down the setter’s back.

He was screwed. 

“Yeah, it is,” he replied, voice sounding too rough for his liking. 

Kiyoomi hummed. “This is one of the few scenes I think the movie got right. Alongside the hand flex and the confession in the rain. Even I can admit those were amazing ideas,” Kiyoomi said.

“I didn’t know you liked the hand flex scene,” Atsumu replied, just as softly, just as quietly, tilting his head so he could properly look at Kiyoomi. 

“I didn’t. Not until recently. I figured out some things the past few weeks and now I can confidently say the scene is a revelation. It encompasses so much of Darcy and Lizzie in a single touch. Made me get some ideas. Oh, look, they’re done now.”

Atsumu looked perplexingly at Kiyoomi, trying to figure out what he meant by that, but the spiker already tore his eyes off of Atsumu and was watching the movie instead, face stoic. Atsumu, once again, tried to shut off his thoughts and his feelings and just enjoy the moment. 

Nothing of value happened for a while after that. Kiyoomi kept whispering commentary in Atsumu’s ear, his hand still on Atsumu’s left shoulder. 

When the first confession scene came on, the one in the rain, Atsumu’s body went into overdrive again. Kiyoomi started gently stroking Atsumu’s upper arm and shoulder with his hand. Atsumu took a deep breath and closed his eyes, thinking of ways to react properly. 

“This okay?” Kiyoomi whispered, and Atsumu, having a tied tongue again, just nodded, trying, once again, not to react to the touch physically. He was 100% sure he was failing, but luckily most of the team was either fast asleep (Hinata and Bokuto) or on their phone (Meian and Inunaki). The only person who could notice his blush would be Kiyoomi, and Atsumu, unfortunately, knew Kiyoomi noticed, not only because he was a generally perceptive person, but because a self-satisfied smirk appeared on his face, before he turned back to the TV. 

Atsumu would need to go to therapy after that night. Or get his heart checked, because he was pretty sure it should not skip so many beats in a single minute. What he definitely needed to do, before any of the previously mentioned, was talk to Osamu and Suna. They would definitely know what to make of the situation and they would definitely let Atsumu’s hopes die. Because that was what he needed. To be free of the burden of the hope Kiyoomi’s touch induced in him. He knew nothing would come out of the night. Kiyoomi was a bit bolder than usual, but he was probably just testing his own boundaries by touching. He probably wanted to be more comfortable patting his teammates on the back and high fiving them after a good play. Tonight had nothing to do with Atsumu. He was just a springboard for Kiyoomi’s extension of his boundaries. 

So why did a traitorous part of his brain tell Atsumu it was all about him?

Against his internal battle and better judgment, he ended up leaning into Kiyoomi’s embrace, letting his head fall on the curly haired man’s arm, who did not seem to mind. 

Atsumu stayed leaning against Kiyoomi’s side until the end of the movie, which, contrary to what Atsumu assumed, did not seem to break their little bubble. Even more surprising was the fact that no one really seemed to find the fact that Kiyoomi and Atsumu were cuddling weird, and no one commented on it. That was concerning. Not as concerning as Kiyoomi not letting him go, though.

“Omi, I gotta get up. Everyone’s leavin’, I gotta walk ‘em out. It’s like midnight,” Atsumu said, nudging Kiyoomi’s side with his right elbow.

All he got as a reply was a grumble and Kiyoomi’s arms loosening. Atsumu got up and joined the dazed group of his friends. 

“All good, ‘Tsumu-san?” Hinata asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“Splendid, Sho-kun, just splendid. Did ya have fun?” Atsumu replied, twisting the key in the lock.

“Fun is an exaggeration regarding the movie. However, you and Sakusa provided for great entertainment,” Inunaki said, smirking. Atsumu had half a mind to knock him over while he was putting on his shoes. 

He just needed everyone to get out so he could think. He was glad everyone was so bored during the movie that they would wanna head straight home to sleep prior to practice the next day. Well, everyone but Kiyoomi, it seemed. 

“Tsum-Tsum, keep us updated, okay?” Bokuto said quietly as he took his jacket off the hanger. Atsumu nodded and opened the door wide, letting his teammates out one by one. 

After saying goodbye and promising extra setting practice (with Hinata, of course, that ball of energy), Atsumu closed the door and turned back towards Kiyoomi. 

“Everythin’ good, Omi-kun?” Atsumu asked, trying to ease the heavy air that hung between them now, without their friends there to act as buffers. He started gathering the glasses on the table, to put them in the sink. Kiyoomi stayed quiet. Atsumu sighed quietly and continued the chore.

“What are you doing?” Kiyoomi asked, when Atsumu came back for a second round of dishes.

“Gettin’ ready ta do the dishes? Wha’ does it look like?” Atsumu asked, a hint of smile playing on his lips. He hoped his words sounded as playful as he intended them to be. 

Since Kiyoomi stood up abruptly, Atsumu assumed they landed differently than his intention. Well, fuck. 

Atsumu repeated his question from earlier. “Everything good?” 

Kiyoomi’s eyes darted around the living room, before settling on Atsumu. The blonde kept eye contact and even raised an eyebrow, hoping to get some sort of answer out of Kiyoomi. 

The answer he got was not one he expected. Kiyoomi’s demeanor did a full 180, his entire body language switching from open to closed off, the look in his eyes hardened, and he muttered a firm “Fine.”

Atsumu desperately wished he knew what he had done wrong. He did not get the chance to ask, because Kiyoomi stormed past him, not even bothering to put on his shoes, opting for just grabbing them and leaving in the guest slippers. 

Atsumu stood in his living room dumbfounded. He genuinely did not know what he had done wrong. No matter how many times he played the events of the night over in his head, he came to a conclusion in the same vein of “Sakusa Kiyoomi hates me now”.

The explanation that seemed to be the most plausible one was that Kiyoomi simply regretted touching Atsumu. He probably sweated too much or smelled bad or his skin was not smooth enough when Kiyoomi stroked his arm. Or maybe Kiyoomi just forgot about himself and his body acted on its own accord: it cannot be good to be so deprived of touch for so long, he probably just latched onto Atsumu because he was close. Maybe it was personal, maybe it was not, Atsumu was not sure.

What he did know, though, was that MMKM was a failure and would probably not happen in the future either, and that he needed to not talk to anyone about the situation until at least after practice the next day. He felt so deeply ashamed for indulging his heart by deluding himself that Kiyoomi would perhaps respond positively to Atsumu. It was ridiculous. He let himself ponder about how bad indulgence was while he cleaned up the living room.

But depriving himself of hope was even worse, he reasoned to himself later, in the shower. It would be impossible for him not to have hope; it was like trying to stop the rain from falling or the sun from shining. 

But then again, at the end of the day, he brought this situation up on himself, he’d think to himself even later, pulling the covers all the way up to his chin as he curled up on his side in his bed. 

He was the one who let himself get close to Kiyoomi, even though these outcomes were still there. All he had to do was think for a few seconds, instead of letting the feelings and thoughts bottle up in favor of “living in the moment”. Yeah, right. That sounds all fun and games till the moment ends. Then what? 

Thoughts like these floated around his head as he drifted off to sleep, ignoring the string of messages he knew were lying in his inbox. He could deal with that in the morning. 

☆

Morning reared its ugly head in the form of a phone ringing incessantly. Atsumu reached for the device that was laying face down on his nightstand, and blindly picked up, knowing who the caller was without having to look. 

“G’mornin’ Samu,” he grumbled sleepily.

“Mornin’? It’s 11, ya asshole! Ya haven’t responded to anyone in the past circa 13 hours, care to explain what you’ve been up to?” Osamu berated Atsumu.

“Sleepin’,” Atsumu replied, stubbornly keeping what happened last night to himself. 

“Surprised ya could even do that after cuddlin’ Sakusa fuckin’ Kiyoomi for like two an’ a half hours,” Osamu snarked.

Atsumu shot up to a sitting position. “How do ya know about that? Did Sakusa tell ya?” 

“Saku- What? How? I haven’t talked to the guy in ages! Hinata called me after ya missed yer usual mornin’ run with him. Said he tried to call ya but ya didn’t pick up. Explained he left ya there with Sakusa last night.”

“How do ya know Sakusa’s not here?” Atsumu challenged. 

“Because Bokkun texted me that Sakusa asked him about ya, so, obviously he’s not there,” Osamu replied. 

“What did Bokkun say?” Atsumu asked, hope swelling in his chest. Maybe Kiyoomi was worried about him. Maybe he had a string of missed calls and messages waiting for him in his notifications. He needed to get rid of Osamu immediately. 

“Asked if he knew whether ya’d be goin’ to afternoon practice. Bokkun told him that ya are goin’ and apparently Sakusa left him on read.” 

Atsumu scrambled to put Osamu on speaker, checking his notifications. There was a distant lack of messages or calls from “Omi-Omi”. Atsumu tried not to be disappointed. 

“What happened, Tsumu?” Osamu asked, tone much more serious than before.

Atsumu sighed. “I honestly have no idea. We were fine, cuddlin’ ‘n shit, then everyone left ‘n he jus’ stormed out,” he explained.

“Absolutely nothin’ else happened between these two events?” Osamu questioned.

“Nah. Nothing. I don’t know what I did wrong, Samu, ‘n it’s drivin’ me nuts.”

“Okay, just– Just take a shower ‘n get ready for practice. Ya will see ‘im there anyways, ya’ll get to talk to ‘im,” Osamu reasoned.

Atsumu knew fighting his brother would be pointless. “‘Kay.”

“And make sure ya eat somethin’, okay? I think I saw some eggs in your fridge last night.”

“Ya went through my fridge?” 

“Call me later.” 

And then Osamu hung up and Atsumu was left alone with his thoughts and Omi-Omi-less phone. He felt dizzy and sick, but he knew he could not miss his practice, so he started getting ready, going through the motions akin to a zombie.

He was in a bad mood, to say the least. He felt like crying and yelling and curling up in a ball and just disappearing at the same time. He knew what the cure was for the situation. Well, not exactly a cure, but something to soothe the ache: playing ‘If This Was a Movie (Taylor’s Version)’ by Taylor Swift on repeat until he got to the training center. 

It did not help as much as he thought it would, however, scream-singing the bridge while he was making brunch for himself did feel kind of therapeutic. He tried his best not to let his mind wander towards the events of the night before, but it was useless, his brain kept on conjuring up images of Kiyoomi. Of Kiyoomi gazing at Atsumu, of him cuddling Atsumu, of the look on his face when Atsumu fucked up. Kiyoomi consumed his thoughts, Atsumu was pretty sure that if he tried to actually use his brain, it would explode because it would keep trying to focus on Kiyoomi. The song on repeat did not help, either, but Atsumu was an optimist and he knew the tipping point was near when he would go from sad to angry. At least he hoped. He did not have much experience with situations like the one he found himself in. 

When the time to leave for practice arrived, he purposely waited an additional ten minutes, so he would not run into Kiyoomi like he usually did. He also took the stairs instead of the elevator, just in case Kiyoomi was running late, and upon arriving in the lobby, Atsumu felt treacherous hope rise in his chest again, because there stood Kiyoomi, earbuds in and fiddling with his phone, by the entrance. 

When Atsumu approached, Kiyoomi looked up, eyes still as hard as before, and Atsumu decided against saying anything. Kiyoomi left the building and Atsumu quietly followed, Taylor Swift still playing in his ears. The hope he felt before was significantly smaller now. 

The walk to practice was awkward, to say the least. They weren’t exactly walking together, but they weren’t walking separately either, and Atsumu felt that the entire thing was like a dance, trying to find the balance they both desperately craved but lost. Atsumu never felt more grateful that he found an apartment so close to the gym, because he was sure he could not take another minute of the thick air between him and Kiyoomi. 

Unfortunately, both Kiyoomi and him ended up being late. Coach Foster gave them a disapproving look as they approached the court after a cold, awkward change in the locker room. 

“Where were you?” Foster asked, and Atsumu’s eyes drifted to Kiyoomi. 

“Long night. Sorry for being late, Coach. I can guarantee it will not happen again,” Kiyoomi replied, keeping his eyes on Foster rather than Atsumu. Atsumu got the message, and quietly agreed with Kiyoomi. After a sigh and agreement from Foster, he headed straight to the far corner of the gym to warm-up properly. 

He caught the eyes of Hinata and Bokuto frequently while he got his body ready for the gruesome practice ahead, and he saw a longing in their eyes, wanting to know what happened between him and Kiyoomi, but Atsumu could not think about Kiyoomi without it being a distraction, so he kept averting his gaze. He could explain it to them later.

As it turned out, “later” meant the 2 on 2 practice matches they always did after warming up, and “explain” meant a very distasteful argument. Foster probably sensed something was amiss between Atsumu and Kiyoomi, so he paired them up, and they were up against Adriah and Meian. Atsumu was up to serve first, and the game went swimmingly, until he had to set to Kiyoomi. As soon as the ball left his hands he knew Kiyoomi would not hit the set. He could not decide whether it was his fault or Kiyoomi’s. 

“What was that, Miya?” Kiyoomi snapped, the first words he said to Atsumu all day. At least he was talking to Atsumu now. 

Atsumu shrugged. “A set. What’d it look like?” 

The thing is, he knew he was being difficult and annoying on purpose, but it wasn't like he could help it. He craved Kiyoomi’s attention and since the “novel” methods he developed during their friendship were not working, he opted to do what he did in high school: annoy Kiyoomi so much, he had no choice but to pay attention to Atsumu. 

“It looked like a weak-ass toss. What’s with you?” Kiyoomi snapped. 

Atsumu could feel his anger rise. “What’s with me? What’s with ya?” 

Kiyoomi stepped closer to Atsumu. “I don’t know, maybe if you paid attention, you could figure it out with that pea brain of yours!”

“What’s that supposed ta mean?” Atsumu asked, his volume rising. He knew everyone was watching them, but at that moment, he did not really care.

“You’re so oblivious and clueless, it’s driving me crazy! Why can’t you just think ?” Kiyoomi’s voice was louder as well, his eyebrows furrowed, a pout set on his lips. Atsumu fleetingly thought about how adorable it looked, before reminding himself what was happening.

“Think about what? How to toss to ya?” Atsumu asked, mimicking Kiyoomi’s expression. 

Kiyoomi stepped away and raised his arms in exasperation. “I fucking hate you, Miya. I hate you. So, so much. You’re so caught up in yourself that you cannot physically notice anything else that’s going on in the world!”

Atsumu knew they were not talking about his shit toss anymore. He was on the verge of crying, and he felt his voice break during his reply. “Then fuckin’ tell me, Kiyoomi , what kind of goddamn clue did I miss, huh? ‘Cause I’m tired of tryna read yer mind.” 

Kiyoomi harshly grabbed the front of Atsumu’s shirt, pulling him close, close , close . Atsumu would lose focus. That was not a good thing. He needed to think, to let himself deal with whatever he was thinking and feeling alone . He tried to distract himself from the depths of Kiyoomi’s eyes by surveying the gym.

Each of their teammates stood by them. “Should we stop them?” Atsumu could hear Hinata ask Meian. 

“I think we should wait a few more seconds. I’m not sure where this is going,” Meian replied quietly. Atsumu sucked in a breath and faced Kiyoomi, who was still quiet. 

“Me fucking flirting with you since we were 17, you dipshit!” 

Atsumu’s world stopped and it was tilting off its axis and everything was so wrong but so right at the same time and Atsumu was sure his breathing stopped and his heart also refused to pump blood into his veins because Kiyoomi has been flirting with him since they were 17 . He could not believe his ears. 

He geared up to reply properly but all he could muster was a weak, tear-stained “what”. Kiyoomi dropped his shirt and took a step back, looking away from Atsumu and pursing his lips. 

“You heard me, asshole,” he started, gaze pointedly on the floor, “I’ve been trying to get your fucking attention for 5 fucking years, and you kept on ignoring it. Ignoring me.” He finally looked up at Atsumu. “Last night I finally decided I had enough of your blatant obliviousness or whatever it was that you played upon whenever I tried to get closer to you, and put the fucking moves on you, just for you to start doing the goddamn dishes, instead of talking to me about whatever the fuck went down circa an hour prior! The dishes , Atsumu! You could barely even look at me! I realized then, that you were not dense,” at this, Kiyoomi stepped towards a dumbfounded Atsumu, “You knew I fucking love you and you love the attention, not me, so you basked in it and when it was time to face the music, you fucking shut me out.”

Atsumu thought he should be surprised at the confession, but strangely, he wasn’t. Kiyoomi was infatuated with Atsumu for the same amount of time Atsumu was infatuated with Kiyoomi. It made sense he’d be in love as well. 

Atsumu could not stop the tears streaming down his cheeks. He said the only thought his brain had at that moment. “You called me Atsumu.”

Kiyoomi let out a dry laugh. “Forget it.” 

He tried to storm past Atsumu, but Atsumu grabbed Kiyoomi’s shirt as he walked by, keeping him in place. “Can I say something now?” 

“No.” Kiyoomi replied, trying to free himself.

“Too fucking bad, asshole,” Atsumu said and started talking. “I hate ya so much, how could ya not see that I’m so in love with you I could burst? Yer so unfair, Kiyoomi. Ya blame me for not seein’ your signs but did ya pay any attention to mine? I thought I was bein’ obvious about my intentions from the get-go, and I genuinely thought ya needed more time, so I waited. I waited and waited and waited and I think I’d’ve appreciated a sign that was clear, ‘cause I’ve been watchin’ ya and everything ya did for the past two years and yet never once saw ya suggest ya wanted more.” 

Kiyoomi looked shocked, but before he could speak, Meian interrupted. Looking around, Atsumu noted that most of their teammates, and Foster were gone. Shit. “We’ll let you handle this now, but you’re both on clean up duty for the next month. And also, extra conditioning for the next week. And we, as in your teammates, expect a full explanation about whatever the fuck this was, because it was not pretty.” And without waiting for a reply, he left.

Both Atsumu and Kiyoomi stood quietly in each other’s personal space, seemingly neither of them wanting to take the leap. 

It was Kiyoomi who ultimately ended up breaking: “You didn’t notice anything because you were only paying attention to me with you, and also for the past two years. I have been making you an exception to everything since I met you. Of course nothing's gonna change, when everything is different from the get go.” His eyes met Atsumu’s, and the blonde was incredibly relieved that Kiyoomi finally dropped his walls, letting Atsumu in again. 

Atsumu thought about Kiyoomi texting him, about Kiyoomi calling him, about Kiyoomi casually touching him whenever he felt like it, about Kiyoomi seeking him out all the time, no matter the time or place, about Kiyoomi sharing everything, good or bad, with Atsumu first, about Kiyoomi letting Atsumu into his life, about Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi. Atsumu was so, so, so stupid. 

“I–. I’m sorry, Kiyoomi,” Atsumu said, tears welling in his eyes again. “You’re right. I was so focused on myself that I did not see anything else.”

Kiyoomi sighed softly and wiped the tears from Atsumu’s face. “I’m sorry as well. I should have paid better attention to you, than how I am with you. We’re, unfortunately, both in the wrong here. No winning for either of us,” He said, dropping his hand and lightly chuckling at the last sentence. 

“I hate this. I wish my plan would have worked,” Atsumu grumbled, unsure what to say now that their feelings were out in the open.

“Plan?” Kiyoomi asked, intrigued. 

“The MMKM. Make a Move on Kiyoomi Maneavuer. I was gonna seduce ya last night. But then ya laughed and the whole plan flew out the window. I could not scheme while ya were so open with me.” 

“I’m curious,” Kiyoomi started, lips curved slightly upwards. “How did you explain my blatant flirting last night to yourself? Since you obviously did not take it for what it was.”

Atsumu snorted. “After ya left, I was confused as fuck, then chalked the situation up to ya tryna test yer boundaries ‘n me crossin’ ‘em somehow, or somethin’. I thought maybe I smelled bad,” Atsumu confessed, searching Kiyoomi’s face.

Kiyoomi smiled, wide. “You’re so stupid. I can’t believe I love you.” 

“So what now?” Atsumu asked, smiling. 

“Now I’m going to kiss you, if that’s okay? Then we’ll have a long talk about healthy communication?” Kiyoomi suggested, linking the fingers on his left hand with Atsumu’s right. 

“‘N maybe talk about how we can get over ourselves? I clearly need some pointers,” Atsumu asked, prompting a small laugh from Kiyoomi. “God, I’ll never get tired of hearin’ that sound, I think. I can’t believe I could’ve been with ya for years . We have a lot to catch up on, don’t ya think, Kiyoomi?” Atsumu added, smiling up at Kiyoomi.

“What? No Omi? I’m wounded,” Kiyoomi said, lifting his right hand to his heart in mock hurt.

“I thought ya hated that nickname,” Atsumu said, fondly.

“Nah. Why would you think that?”

“‘Cause ya literally told me, multiple times?” Atsumu asked, confused.

“I was flirting,” Kiyoomi defended.

“That is definitely not flirtin’, what are ya talkin’ ‘bout?” Atsumu said.

“Yeah, it is. Motoya told me it was.”

“Ya took advice from Komori ? Even I know that’s a bad idea, Omi.”

“Yeah, yeah. Can we kiss now?” Kiyoomi urged, stepping impossibly closer to Atsumu. 

“Impatient, are we?” Atsumu teased.

“We waited five years for this. I’m allowed to be a bit impatient,” Kiyoomi said.

“Well, I mean-”

“Shut up.” 

And then they were kissing and everything that had been leading up to that moment, all the good and bad was suddenly worth it, because nothing in Atsumu’s life had felt as right as Kiyoomi’s lips and Kiyoomi’s arms around him and Kiyoomi’s scent and Kiyoomi’s body heat and Kiyoomi . Atsumu thought that if he were to die in that moment, he would die in peace, without an ounce of regret, because every choice led him there, to the middle of the Black Jackals gym, embracing (and shoving his tongue down the throat of) his teammate, his best friend, his favorite person. 

It did not matter anymore what games they were playing before, how they tried to make their own feelings known, all that mattered was Kiyoomi was there, in Atsumu’s arms, where he belonged and they loved each other. Atsumu knew they still had a lot to figure out, but he felt that as long as he was figuring it out with Kiyoomi by his side, everything would be a bit more bearable. 

When they separated, Kiyoomi’s gaze held so much love and fondness that Atsumu felt himself start crying again. Kiyoomi kept wiping them away, alternating between stroking Atsumu’s face and kissing it. 

Later, they’d have to explain everything to the team and Osamu and Suna and Motoya and everyone they knew, but at that moment, Atsumu thought that what they were sharing belonged only to them, their own little secret that no one could intrude on, that was no one else's but theirs. It was a lovely thought. Kiyoomi thought so too, after Atsumu told him.