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Sakusa Kiyoomi knows he isn’t the easiest person to love. He isn’t particularly affectionate and his routine is exhausting even to him most days. Past partners have called him too arrogant, too obsessive, too distant to build a life with and after so many years, Kiyoomi has started to believe it. Atsumu was supposed to be different, though. He’s never commented on Kiyoomi’s cleaning habits and seems to find Kiyoomi’s monotone sarcasm endearing. Kiyoomi is rather fond of him despite all odds, which is why it’s such a shame that Atsumu is about to break up with him.
All the signs are there, the bad omens of past failed relationships resurfacing. The way Atsumu calls Osamu only to stop talking abruptly when Kiyoomi enters the room is reminiscent of his high school boyfriend who’d complained about the constant, lingering smell of hand sanitizer when he thought Kiyoomi had left the locker room. The afternoon Kiyoomi walked past Atsumu browsing apartment listings reminds him of when his college boyfriend, unsatisfied with the scraps of Kiyoomi’s time leftover from volleyball and his studies, had moved out one afternoon while Kiyoomi was in class without a warning. Atsumu has stopped talking about hypothetical future plans the way he used to (“We should go to Australia, Omi!”), started making feeble excuses to get out of the apartment (“‘Samu needs help moving his couch”), and perhaps worst of all, Atusmu hates keeping secrets so pretending that nothing has changed is clearly weighing him down. He seems to think he’s hiding it well, but Kiyoomi knows.
So Atsumu is going to break up with him, and soon by the looks of things. Kiyoomi tells himself that even though it will hurt, he’ll be okay. He doesn’t really believe it.
It’s a Sunday when it happens. Kiyoomi is ready to throw Atsumu out himself if only to put a stop to the restless pacing he can hear all the way from the living room. Kiyoomi tries not to let how nauseous he feels show on his face when Atsumu leaves their bedroom with a horribly plastic smile that makes Kiyoomi yearn for the real thing.
“Omi,” Atsumu says, his tone just a shade off. “Do you wanna go for a walk? The weather’s nice, we can go to the park.”
In middle school, Motoya had won their movie night coin flip and chose a romcom to annoy Kiyoomi. They watched the quirky best friend tell the lead to break up with her boyfriend away from their apartment so if he reacted poorly he wouldn’t be able to start breaking her things, and at the time he’d seen the sound logic of that advice. Now he wonders if Atsumu has seen that movie too.
“Sure,” he replies, his own voice betraying his nerves.
Everything feels wrong as they make their way down the sidewalk. Despite the pleasant weather, Kiyoomi’s hand feels cold without Atsumu’s fingers linked with his, swinging their arms wildly as he points out dogs and cute cafes and flowers. Today, Atsumu’s hands are shoved deep in his pockets and his typical cheerful chatter has given way to tense silence.
We had a good run, Kiyoomi reflects as he watches Atsumu stare at the sidewalk, his brow furrowed slightly. In the two years they’d been together Atsumu had never held back his affection despite the stilted way Kiyoomi returned it. Atsumu’s steady presence made him feel secure and loved and slowly, slowly, he’d let Atsumu past his numerous impeccably clean walls. He’d been free to explore his emotions, both the good and the bad, and expand his horizons free of another person’s expectations. Atsumu had been so patient, waiting for Kiyoomi to catch up every step of the way, and even in the face of their breakup, he can’t bring himself to regret it. He hopes that even if Atsumu isn’t in his life anymore he can retain the growth his boyfriend had cultivated.
They reach the park, Atsumu leading them past the families and other couples. Kiyoomi recognizes their path as one that leads to his favorite spot, a bench under a weeping willow beside the wide stream that meanders through the park. He wishes Atsumu would leave the bench out of this, allow him to return here without the bitterness of this moment seeping in.
Atsumu sits down once they reach the bench and gestures for Kiyoomi to join him.
“This is where I asked ya to be my boyfriend, d’you remember?” he says, his voice shaking slightly.
Kiyoomi can’t bear to look at him. He looks at the ducks waddling along the bank, a child messily eating an ice cream cone, the rippling reflection of the footbridge in the water. Anywhere, anywhere but his soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend.
“Yes.” The bridge warps just like its reflection as his eyes fill with tears.
“Omi, look at me.”
He does, but through his blurred vision the familiar, comforting shape of Atsumu has turned unattainably precious; the warm amber of his eyes, the golden glow of his hair.
Atsumu finally takes his hand and Kiyoomi almost sobs.
“I thought I’d done an okay job hiding it, but it seems like you already know why we’re here,” Atsumu says.
Kiyoomi nods.
“Kiyoomi,”
Kiyoomi inhales sharply at the use of his full name as Atsumu slides off the bench, Kiyoomi’s hand still in his.
“Will you marry me?”