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Kiyoomi has never had much interest in dating. Not because of an actual lack of interest in dating, but because of what dating tends to involve. He hates touching and being touched by other people.
People tend to assume that he avoids physical contact because of mysophobia, which isn't untrue, but it's also more of a convenient excuse than anything else. He can watch someone brush their teeth, use mouthwash, and thoroughly wash their hands, and his skin would still crawl at the thought of getting too close to them, much less kissing them.
The second that he had first heard the term asexual, he knew it applied to him. He didn't crave physical intimacy the way everyone around him seemed to.
Sex-averse asexual.
It felt good to have a term for it.
Still, when a girl confessed to him in middle school, he'd felt obligated to say yes. Dating didn't have to mean sex, and they were so young anyway, so it wouldn’t be an issue for a while.
When she'd held his hand, he'd felt far too aware of each point of contact between them, each brush of skin against skin. He never knew what to do. He could feel her phantom touch after they parted ways, and he had to scrub at his hands until they were red before they felt like his own again.
He felt like he'd learned his lesson.
He tended to only ever let family hug him, and even at that, he never handled it properly. He was stiff, and he never knew quite what to do with his hands or when to pull back. He tried to let the other person take the lead, but he always ended up feeling like he simply couldn't wait to get away, counting seconds in his head. He was sure the other person could feel how ready to bolt he was too.
The only place where touches felt okay were on the volleyball court. He could handle a slap on the back. Everyone was uncomfortably sweaty, but so was he. He could live with it.
So, no. He knew that dating was off the table. He didn't have time for it, nor the interest, and especially not the willingness to open himself to that kind of intimacy.
And then Miya happened. Miya goddamn Atsumu. Probably the worst thing to ever happen to Kiyoomi.
And the best, but that would come later.
It almost feels like at all times, Miya is touching someone else. He's handing out high fives, he's hugging, he's leaning up against someone just for the hell of it. It's like he can't live without it. And from what Kiyoomi hears, Miya is just as eager to give his entire body away to anyone.
Which is perfectly fine and none of Kiyoomi's business. He can do whatever he wants, as long as he keeps it far away from Kiyoomi.
Except that he doesn't, because Miya is determined to have the same relationship with Kiyoomi as he has with the rest of the team. It's months of dodging his invitations to hang out, of pushing his head off his shoulder, of trying to beat into Miya's head that he values his personal space.
"Can't you go leech off of Bokuto instead?" he asks once, because god knows he'd put up with it better.
"I don't wanna hang out with him right now, I wanna hang out with you,” Miya responds, turning on the sad puppy dog eyes. Miya Atsumu’s entire presence should be a crime.
"Fine," he says. "Fine, stay. But if you talk over the TV, I'm not responsible for my actions."
"Alright, alright, Omi-kun. I'll be good."
Over the next half hour, genuinely, Miya does behave. For the most part. He doesn't talk over Kiyoomi's show, but he does... gravitate closer. Kiyoomi almost wonders if he's aware of it, or if it's just some magnetic pull, like he truly can’t help but seek out touch. All Kiyoomi knows is that Miya's knee is suddenly brushing against his thigh, and oh, he hates that.
Ordinarily, the solution to this problem is a simple one: quietly, subtly put more space between them. With some people, he has to repeat the process a couple of times, but the job gets done. But he knows Miya doesn't take to subtlety very well, so he grabs a throw pillow and puts it between them, a solid boundary keeping any part of their bodies from touching.
It's comforting.
There's a flicker of hurt on Miya's face - and if that's how it has to be, well, so be it - but it's quickly chased away by something Kiyoomi hopes is understanding. Miya nods, as if he's just reached an agreement with himself.
After that, Miya is... tolerable?
It's kind of amazing, actually, how seemingly, suddenly a switch has been flipped.
Miya still talks his ear off, but he maintains something of a respectful distance between them. He even occasionally acts as a human shield when others get a little overzealous. They don't talk about it, which is probably better for them both, but there's definitely an understanding between them. It works out pretty nicely, really, and it improves their relationship - both on the court and as friends off it.
Eventually, Kiyoomi comes to a horrible realization, which starts with the name "Atsumu" falling from his lips.
He doesn't know when they got to that level. He doesn't know when Atsumu had given up on asking to be called by his given name, or when after that he'd started to think of him as such. Maybe somewhere around when he'd started getting to know Osamu as well.
And that... was a startling thought. When had he started to bond so much with Atsumu? When had they gotten this close, and why - why doesn't that scare Kiyoomi?
The thing is, Kiyoomi knows he's not aromantic.
He knows that asexuality and dating aren't inherently mutually exclusive. No, he still craves that connection with another person. He wants intimacy.
Just not of any physical kind.
And, he was realizing, he wanted that intimacy with Atsumu. Which was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid all this time. He had known that, yes, dating while asexual was an obstacle, but not one that couldn't be overcome. Hating touch this much, however, likely couldn't.
Especially not with Miya Atsumu, whose love language so clearly is physical touch.
Miya Atsumu, who is always draping an arm across the nearest person's shoulders. Miya Atsumu, who kisses cheeks and finds comfort in cuddling his teammates after a hard loss.
Miya Atsumu, with his surprising respect for boundaries.
Miya Atsumu, who hasn't touched Kiyoomi in weeks.
Kiyoomi does the only appropriate thing to do in this scenario: try and ignore it. His errant feelings will sort themselves out.
Spoiler alert: his feelings do not sort themselves out.
If anything, realizing what they are only makes them more pronounced. Impossible to ignore. A watched pot never boils, but ignoring it doesn't keep it from boiling over. Certainly not when said feelings are for Atsumu, who is the most frustrating, cluelessly endearing individual on the planet.
Eventually, Kiyoomi feels things getting out of hand. Boiling water splashes into the counter with a sizzle.
"Atsumu," he says one night. They're standing in his kitchen at two in the morning and he didn't give permission for his mouth to speak.
Atsumu is lactose intolerant and eating cheese straight out of Kiyoomi's fridge. He looks like he thinks he's about to get in trouble. "Yeah?"
"I feel like I want to kiss you," he says. "But I don't want to kiss you."
For a long moment Atsumu just stares. "I... don't know what to do with that, Omi." He lets out a little laugh; he’d handling this pretty well for someone who is being rejected without ever having expressed interest in the first place.
He's going about this wrong. "I... I have feelings for you," he says, trying to start over.
Another pause, before Atsumu admits, "I thought ya might."
"But I don't... I don't think we can date."
Again, he doesn't look surprised. "Why not?" he asks nonetheless.
"Because, I don't think I'll ever want to kiss you," he said. "I don't know if I'll ever be comfortable even just... holding your hand."
"I'll wash 'em."
Kiyoomi's heart aches. "It's not that. I trust you, I do, I just... I don't like the way touching makes me feel.”
"How does it make you feel?"
It's a reasonable question to ask, but Kiyoomi doesn't even know where to start. "It makes me feel..." he pauses, letting out a long breath. "Trapped, maybe? It makes me feel wrong. It feels wrong, and it feels like I'm not..." He lets out a frustrated sound.
Before he can try to go on, Atsumu shushes him. "Omi, don't worry about it," he says. "Dunno why I asked, it doesn't really matter."
"Doesn't it?"
"I mean, it does but it doesn't. I'm not tryin' to say yer feelings don't matter," he clarifies quickly. "But what I am trying to say is that, well, saying yer not comfortable is enough. Ya don't need a reason."
Kiyoomi tilts his head, looking at him. What happened to the Miya who only ever thought of himself? Or maybe that Miya had never existed.
"I... Well, I appreciate it," he said.
"So where does that leave us?" Atsumu asks when Kiyoomi doesn't go on. "I mean. I have feelings for you, too."
That should be exciting. It is exciting. But it's also terrifying.
"I don't know," he said. "I - you won't be happy with me."
"I'm not sure you get to decide that," he says.
Atsumu is right, but Kiyoomi is sure that he is, too. There's no winning here. "I don't want you to date me and later regret it," he tells him.
"How about you let us give it a go, and if it turns out I'm... unfulfilled, or whatever, then we'll reevaluate?" Atsumu suggests.
It's not a terrible idea, but it also fills Kiyoomi with dread. He'd always said that if he were to date, it would, at least, not be an allo. He knows there are so many needs that he can't take care of for Atsumu. If they do this, the guilt will eat him alive.
He nods anyway. Atsumu makes him reckless. "Okay."
Atsumu grins at him. "Ya won't regret it."
Kiyoomi nods, because that's not what he's worried about.
Dating Atsumu is... nice.
Atsumu picks up the tab and he's a perfect gentleman. The feelings Kiyoomi had reluctantly let himself start to feel only grow, and now with his permission and Atsumu's encouragement, they flourish.
He's also waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He and Atsumu haven't kissed even once. Atsumu hasn't shown any signs of being frustrated with the situation, but Kiyoomi knows that Atsumu is good at masking his feelings.
But he also finds that he doesn't mind the way their hands will brush when they walk side by side. Atsumu always pulls his hand back when that happens, ever respectful.
But when Kiyoomi gets the wild urge to take hold of his hand, he gives in to the impulse. Atsumu's hand is tense at first, as if he's the one uncomfortable with physical contact, but then Kiyoomi gives him a squeeze and he squeezes back.
"Omi?" he asks, looking a little unsure like he has to double check that this is okay even though Kiyoomi had, in fact, been the one to initiate this contact.
"I want to," he says. "I'm not - this isn't out of obligation."
"Huh," he says, a little dumbfounded. A smile grows across his face; it’s reminiscent of a golden retriever sitting in the sun.
"Wipe that look off your face, Miya, it makes you look dumb."
Atsumu laughs, undeterred. "We're holdin' hands."
"Yes, we are," he says. "Doing okay?"
"Peachy," he says, grinning at him.
"Did I actually ruin your brain just now?" he asks.
Atsumu shakes his head and looks down at their hands. He moves his hand and for a second Kiyoomi thinks he's pulling back, but then he intertwines their fingers.
"Nah, I'm fine, Omi," he says. "This is just... It's really nice, honestly."
"I can't promise that you're ever going to get more than this, you know," he cautions him. "You might not. It's not like we're suddenly having some kind of major breakthrough."
"We are," Atsumu responds easily. "Not kissing ya doesn't take away from enjoying holdin' yer hand."
He could spend the rest of his life getting more and more little nuggets of wisdom from Atsumu, and it would never feel less monumental.
Even after they part ways that evening, he can still feel the warmth of his boyfriend's hand against his own. But this time it doesn't feel violating. His hand is still his own, it doesn't feel like a stranger to him.
He maybe even misses Atsumu's hand in his.
It's still not a breakthrough by any means, regardless of what Atsumu says, and he isn't suddenly about to desire things with Atsumu that have always repulsed him, but... He does start to want more.
When they get together for movie nights, he lets himself sit down close enough that their thighs touch.
Atsumu doesn't comment on it, though Kiyoomi almost expects him to. He can almost hear it, some kind of comment about him getting adventurous. No, instead it's just a nice, quiet moment; he realizes he’s grateful that this doesn’t have to be a big deal. And as the evening wears on, he pushes his own boundaries just a little further, resting his head on Atsumu's shoulder.
It doesn't feel wrong. If Kiyoomi were to really go out on a limb, he might even say it feels right.
That's as far as it goes that night, but the night time they're hanging out, he invites Atsumu to put his arm around his shoulders. That feels right, too, and little by little, he desensitizes himself to touching Atsumu.
He still feels cautious about it all, until one night they're laying on the couch together, Kiyoomi fully laying on top of Atsumu (and okay, maybe he's been missing out on cuddling all this time), when Atsumu calms all his fears.
"I'm not... like you," he starts, and admittedly it's not the best start, but then he carries on, "I'm not ace. I'm - you know I'm sexually attracted to you. But it's..." Atsumu pauses, laughs, and looks at Kiyoomi like he's expecting him to be ready to make fun of him, too.
Instead, he just waits.
"You not wanting sex is kinda a relief to me," he says. "I've never really had much of a sex drive, even when I wanted to."
There are a lot of things Atsumu could've said that Kiyoomi wouldn't have been surprised by. This isn’t one of them.
"I've seen you hook up with a lot of people," he says.
"Sure, sure. I have," he says. "And I do enjoy sex when I'm havin' it. But it's always felt more like... Like it's just a way of getting closer to another person."
"I don't think I understand," Kiyoomi says, but he wants to.
Sighing, he shrugs. "It's... I dunno. I've never gotten close to people. Sex is a good way to have intimacy when ya don't have a real connection."
A part of Kiyoomi wants to argue that that's not really intimacy at all, but that's semantics, and he understands what Atsumu is saying. "So... You're fine without having sex with me?"
"Thought ya knew that by now," he said with a laugh. "But yeah. Sex'd just be a cherry on top." He must be able to tell that Kiyoomi is about to protest, because he cuts him off. "Which I really, truly don't need. I'm closer to ya than I’ve been with any of my past partners, without ya ever havin' seen my junk."
"Don't call it that."
"I could've called it way worse things, Omi."
Kiyoomi huffs and rests his head back down against Atsumu's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. There’s a heavy hand on his back, rubbing up and down his spine, but it doesn't feel like he's being trapped by it.
"You promise?" he asks eventually.
"I promise, Omi," he says. "And if anything ever changes, you'll be the first to know."
"Thank you, Atsu."
It's still not easy. Sometimes he's still sure that he's holding Atsumu back, sometimes he notices him taking a suspiciously long time in the bathroom. There are days that he doesn't want to touch Atsumu at all, and snaps at him if he tries. But those days are, generally, fairly few and far between, and Atsumu loves him through them.
Atsumu is generous with his compliments and adoration, saying "I love you" like it's going out of style.
Kiyoomi says it back in gentle touches, in kisses on cheeks and linked pinkies underneath restaurant tables.
He never wants to let go.