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It was a known fact that Atsumu was generally a social person. He talked with all of his teammates, always joined group dinners, went out to bars, and even organised such events on some occasions. He had even hosted people at his place sometimes, cooked for them too.
What was not a known fact was that Atsumu liked his alone time too. He didn’t have much alone time for the first almost two decades of his life, living with his twin. Of course, Atsumu loved Osamu, despite how annoying he could be sometimes and how much they fought. They were still brothers in the end. But alone time was a sacred thing to Atsumu and he cherished it even now in his early twenties.
The urge to be alone didn’t come very often and so usually he wouldn’t even have to blow off plans to spend the evening in his flat with a blanket wrapped around him, a cup of tea warming his hands and a Ghibli movie playing on his TV. But tonight was one of those nights where he had apologised to the team and said he wouldn’t be able to make it. He offered no explanation and he wasn’t asked for one either.
It turned out that the one night Atsumu didn’t show up was also the one night Sakusa Kiyoomi did. The setter wasn’t sure if that was a pure coincidence or if it was intentional on Kiyoomi’s part, and if it was… well then that kind of stung. He’d been enamoured by Kiyoomi since high school, admittedly.
The spiker made his way to the top three aces in the country in only his second year of high school, armed with oddly flexible wrists and a team that won Nationals. They’d met officially at the National Youth Camp but Kiyoomi was not a sociable person, sticking to himself or his cousin, Komori Motoya. That didn’t mean Atsumu stopped trying, he was nothing if not persistent.
Their paths diverted after high school, where Atsumu signed a contract with MSBY Black Jackals, a Division 1 volleyball team, and Kiyoomi continued on to university, playing for a team there. It was a pleasant surprise to see Kiyoomi in the Jackals’ gym around a year ago, not long after Shoyo had joined the team.
Of course, Atsumu went back to his old habits of trying to start a conversation and make friends with Kiyoomi. Only, this time he was armed with more knowledge. He knew about Kiyoomi’s thing for germs, knew he disliked crowds and he knew from observation how to generally set for him.
So, he applied all these things.
He kept his distance when he talked to Kiyoomi, he made sure to pointedly sanitise his hands before touching a volleyball, he wiped down anything he was going to hand to Kiyoomi, he warned him beforehand if they were going to crowded places, he made sure no one bothered him if it looked like he wasn’t having the best time (because Atsumu knew better than most what bad days looked like), and he did what he did best, he set for Sakusa Kiyoomi.
But nothing went further than friendship, and even the friendship they had, if it could even be called that, felt frighteningly one-sided most times. Atsumu felt pushy, felt like he was shoving his affections onto someone who desired none of it. Kiyoomi never said anything but perhaps he was sparing Atsumu’s feelings, he didn’t deign to know how the mind of one Sakusa Kiyoomi worked.
The enamoured feeling he’d felt so long ago for Kiyoomi had developed into deeper affections. He was in love. In love with a man who didn’t seem to reciprocate a single one of his affections. A man who was out with his team on the one day Atsumu wasn’t.
So imagine his surprise when his phone rang and the screen lit up with a photo of Hinata Shoyo.
“Shoyo-kun?” Atsumu picked up, pausing the movie on his TV. “Everythin’ alright?”
“Uh… Atsumu-san…” Shoyo sounded slightly hesitant. “Omi-san is a little drunk and we don’t really know what to do with him.”
“So ya called me?” Atsumu was incredulous.
“Well… you’re the person he’s closest with on the team,” Shoyo replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “Not to mention how in love you –”
“Okay!” Atsumu yelped. “Okay! Text me yer address, holy shit. I’ll come get him.”
“Thanks Atsumu-san, you’re the best.” Shoyo laughed, making a kissy sound before hanging up. Seconds later, Atsumu’s phone buzzed with a message from him linking a location that was thankfully quite close to his flat.
He had lived at the dorms for his first year with the Jackals, and so did Bokuto, but they both moved out after, Bokuto to live with his boyfriend Akaashi, and Atsumu to live on his own. Kiyoomi and Shoyo however, still lived in the dorms along with Inunaki and Adriah. Oliver had a place of his own and Meian lived with his wife of course.
Atsumu was quick to tuck his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants, grab his keys and pull a pair of trainers on before heading out the door. A biting wind blew past as he walked out of the building and Atsumu winced, sucking in his cheeks, and tucking his chin into his chest, lowering his head as he walked.
It was mere minutes before he was stood outside the bar that Shoyo had linked him and he breathed out, stepping inside to be welcomed with warmth and a plethora of sounds. It didn’t take long to locate where his teammates were, considering Bokuto’s laughter was loud enough to be heard from all the way across the bar.
Shoyo was the first one to spot him and he brightened, waving happily to Atsumu with a wide grin. “Atsumu-san!”
“Shoyo-kun, hey,” Atsumu squeezed through the throngs of people. “Where’s Omi-kun?”
“Over there.” Shoyo pointed to Kiyoomi, who was sitting on one of the bar stools, his chin resting on the palm of his hand and his other hand wrapped around a half full glass of beer. “He… I don’t even know how many beers he’s consumed. I didn’t even know he liked beer! I thought he was a sake and wine type of guy!”
“No, that’s me. I like wine. Omi-kun doesn’t. I think he likes sake though,” Atsumu shook his head. “It’s… fine. I’ve never seen him this drunk but I’ll figure somethin’ out.”
“Good luck.” Shoyo saluted and then turned away to join Bokuto for an impromptu karaoke session.
“Thanks,” Atsumu murmured under his breath, approaching Kiyoomi. “Omi-kun?”
Thankfully, Kiyoomi turned to look at him with furrowed brows, flushed cheeks, and a glazed look in his eyes. “Miya?” He slurred.
“Hey. Yer in a state, huh?” Atsumu teased, sitting beside Kiyoomi, and reaching out to tug the glass of beer away, only to be interrupted by a whine from the curly haired man. “Come on, Omi-kun, I’m cuttin’ ya off. Ya’ve had enough fer one night.”
“Hmph.” Kiyoomi huffed and pouted, making Atsumu’s heart race.
“Yer so –” He shook his head. “Whatever, it’s fine, I – okay. Let’s get ya home, Omi-kun.”
“Don’t want to.” Kiyoomi shook his head.
“Yeah, well, yer goin’ ta regret this in the mornin’ if ya don’t get home so I’m doin’ this fer yer sake, not mine, trust me. I was havin’ a nice evenin’ in when I got the call from Shoyo-kun that ya were fucked up.”
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s –” Atsumu sighed. “It’s not yer fault. It’s fine. I don’t mind if it’s ya. Come on, Omi-kun.”
“Where’re we goin’?” Kiyoomi slurred his words.
“Back ta the dorms? Where ya live?”
“No, I don’t want to go back there,” Kiyoomi shook his head. “Some – take me somewhere else.”
“Omi-kun…” Atsumu began gently. “Yer drunk. Ya don’t know what yer sayin’. Why would I take ya somewhere not yer home, when ya’d obviously be more comfortable in yer own clean space, hm?”
“’M not that drunk,” Kiyoomi insisted. “I’m… tipsy. Dunno why they called you, ‘m fine.”
“I’m sure. But I’m here now, an’ I’m not goin’ back without havin’ ruined my evening fer good reason, so let me help ya out, will ya?” Atsumu paused. “Alright… if ya don’t want ta go back ta the dorms, then where do ya want ta go?”
“Don’t know.” The spiker sighed, his chin dropping from his palm and his cheek instead resting on his arm, that was spread across the bar top. Atsumu winced, knowing a sane, sober Sakusa Kiyoomi would never touch a surface like that with his bare skin.
“Oh my god, here,” He dug through his pockets, producing a squashed pack of antibacterial wipes from a brand he knew Kiyoomi liked, and grabbed one from it, cleaning his hands and then grabbing another and handing it over to Kiyoomi. “Go on, sober ya would kill me fer lettin’ drunk ya touch that bar top.”
“Oh,” Kiyoomi’s eyes widened and he took the wipe, wiping his arms and then keeping them off the bar top. “You’re… you’re a nice guy, Miya.”
“Sure, Omi-kun,” Atsumu sighed once more. “Right, where’d ya want me ta take ya?’
“Anywhere. Not the dorms. ‘s lonely.” Kiyoomi admitted in a rare display of vulnerability that left Atsumu slightly shellshocked.
“I… okay… would ya be okay if I took ya back ta mine? Promise it’s clean an’ ya can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa, I don’t mind. I was probably goin’ ta do that anyways if I’m goin’ ta be honest with ya.”
“Mhm. I – I know – I know you’re clean. ‘s fine.” Kiyoomi stumbled through his words.
“Alright, Omi-kun. Come on, ya mess,” Atsumu shook his head, a small, amused grin playing at his lips as he held a hand out to Kiyoomi, gauging to see if he would be allowed to touch him. “Come on, let me help ya. Ya’ll fall an’ crack yer head open, an’ then I’ll be down a spiker. We can’t have that, can we?”
“Just a spiker?” Kiyoomi questioned as they started towards the exit of the bar, Atsumu shielding the dark haired boy with his body as they had to walk through the throngs of people he passed through not too long ago.
“Yer not goin’ ta remember this conversation in the mornin’.” Atsumu said gently.
“I will. I always remember everything after I’m drunk.” And he sounded so sure.
“Okay. Not just a spiker then, Omi-kun. My favourite spiker.”
“Not Hinata-kun? Bokuto-san?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I love Shoyo-kun an’ Bok-kun, an’ of course they’re wonderful spikers an’ I treasure bein’ able ta set fer them, but it’s different, Omi-kun.”
“Different?”
“Well… Bok-kun has Keiji-kun, an’ Shoyo-kun has Tobio-kun, they’re not really my spikers.” Atsumu didn’t know how much more obvious he could be after that.
“But Hinata-kun is on the Jackals, and Kageyama-kun is on the Alders. Akaashi-san doesn’t even play volleyball anymore.” Kiyoomi whispered with his voice low as if he was sharing a secret.
“Yer right, Omi-kun. What was I thinkin’?” Atsumu forced a smile onto his face and urged Kiyoomi to move faster. “Come on, ya’ll catch a cold if yer out here fer much longer. Yer not really dressed for this weather, are ya?”
“Wasn’t this cold earlier.”
“Thought ya’d be smart enough ta know it gets colder at night,” Atsumu shook his head. “We’re almost there. It’s warm inside my flat, I left the heatin’ on when I went out.”
“What… what were you doing before?” Kiyoomi asked, leaning a little heavily into Atsumu’s hold.
“I was watchin’ a movie. Had a nice cup of tea too.” Atsumu recalled the cosy environment he’d built for the night and how abruptly it had been ripped away but he found he didn’t much mind that now, pressed against Kiyoomi, carrying his drunk self to warmth.
“What movie?”
“Ponyo. It’s a Ghibli movie.”
“What… what’s it about?” Kiyoomi asked as they stopped in front of Atsumu’s building.
“Tell ya what, Omi-kun. When yer sober again, we can watch it together. Ya’ll love it, it’s one of my favourites,” Atsumu bargained, and when he got a nod, a smile crossed his face. “Okay, cool. We’re here by the way. Come on.”
Just a little bit longer Atsumu dragged Kiyoomi along, flashing a smile at the security guard sitting in the lobby who sent him a sympathetic look upon seeing Kiyoomi draped over him and the blond setter waved it off with his free hand. They piled into the elevator, because while Atsumu liked using the stairs, he didn’t think Kiyoomi would be up for that in this state.
When the doors opened on the fifth floor, Atsumu helped Kiyoomi out and unlocked his door, helping him tug his shoes off and then taking his own off. “Alright, Omi-kun. Ya can shower if ya’d like. I’m gonna set up the sofa fer me, an’ grab ya an extra blanket. Ya get cold durin’ the night, right? Toya-kun mentioned that once.”
Kiyoomi nodded, looking dazed as he was shepherded into the bathroom inside Atsumu’s bedroom. “Clothes..?”
“I’ll grab some for ya. I promise they’re clean. I’ll leave them on the bed, alright? Ya should probably just sleep it off after, okay?”
“Mhm.” Kiyoomi nodded, stumbling to the bathroom, and shutting the door behind him. He wasn’t drunk enough to where he left his dirty clothes scattered on the floor, instead tossing them atop Atsumu’s laundry basket and then turned the shower on, stepping in and letting the warm water rain down atop him.
He must have almost fallen asleep in there because he heard a knock on the door after a while. “Omi-kun! Don’t fall asleep in there! I left some clothes on my bed, I’m gonna watch a movie and head ta bed. I’ll make ya breakfast tomorrow if yer still here when I wake up!” And then Kiyoomi heard footsteps receding.
The shower seemed to have sobered him up a little and he turned it off, reaching for a towel from the rack beside the shower and wrapping it around his waist. He draped another over his shoulders so his wet hair didn’t drip on Atsumu’s floors.
To his surprise, upon stepping out of the bathroom, he found a neat pile of clothes laid on the bed. There was a pair of navy sweatpants and a light grey sweater, as well as a pair of underwear still in their packaging, almost as if Atsumu knew Kiyoomi would never wear anything else, even if it had been clean. You do not share underwear. A quick glance at the desk in the room and he was even more surprised to find a glass of chilled water and a few pills for the inevitable headache he’d have tomorrow. This would help avoid that.
Kiyoomi dressed in the clothes, finding them to be incredibly soft, and while the sweatpants were the tiniest bit short, the sweater was actually a little oversized, which he supposed made sense because while he was taller than Atsumu, the setter was more muscled than he was, so he wore a larger size of clothing. It made sense. It also made Kiyoomi feel quite warm and fuzzy inside.
When he had dressed and downed the glass of water along with two pills, he tucked himself under the covers of Atsumu’s bed and sighed, sinking into the soft mattress, and closing his eyes, surrounded by warmth and exhausted.
He awoke the next morning to the smell of food wafting into the bedroom and sat up, mouth practically watering. Kiyoomi stood and dragged himself out of the bed, heading to the bathroom. Luckily, he didn’t seem to have much of a hangover and he rinsed his mouth in the sink and ran his fingers through his curls before exiting Atsumu’s bedroom.
The aforementioned blond turned around from the kitchen when he heard the sound of the door opening and lifted a hand in greeting. “Mornin’, Omi-kun. Sleep well?”
“Yeah,” Kiyoomi nodded, walking over, and sitting on one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. “Your mattress is really comfortable.”
“I’m glad. I’m almost done with this if yer not feeling too hungover to eat.” Atsumu asked, lifting an eyebrow, and trying not to freak out because oh my god, Kiyoomi looked adorable in the morning. Well… Atsumu thought he looked adorable all the time, but it was especially prominent in the morning, with his flushed cheeks and messy hair, dressed in Atsumu’s clothes.
“I’m fine. I don’t get too hungover in the first place and the pills helped.” Kiyoomi waved him off, answering quietly. The kitchen fell into a comfortable silence as Atsumu finished off frying two eggs. He popped open his rice cooker and divided the rice into two bowls and then put one egg on each bowl, then poured some miso soup into two bowls as well and transferred a piece of fish from the oven onto a larger plate and put it between the plates. “You cook?”
“Omi-kun, I’ve been livin’ on my own fer a while now, if I didn’t know how ta cook, I wouldn’t have survived this long.” Atsumu tossed him an amused look and rolled up his shirt sleeves as he sat beside Kiyoomi. The dark haired man tried not to look at Atsumu’s arms and instead turned to his food, muttering a ‘thank you for the food’ and grabbing a pair of chopsticks.
“Thought you ordered in or lived off of… instant ramen and microwave meals. I didn’t think you were capable of cooking.”
“No way I could live off of that stuff, I’m an athlete fer one, an’ fer two homecooked stuff is just better. I mean… ya know my brother owns an onigiri shop, he’s not the only one good at cookin’. He is better, I won’t deny that, but we’re both good. Our mother taught us how ta cook when we were little an’ I’ve always kept it up.” Atsumu shrugged, digging into his own food.
“Just cook or can you bake?”
“Why? Ya got a sweet tooth, Omi?” Atsumu teased. “I can bake, well… I stress bake.”
“Stress… bake…?”
“I get stressed. I bake. I’m not stressed anymore. It does result in tons of baked goods, but I usually donate them ta a shelter nearby an’ I keep some fer myself.” Atsumu shrugged.
“That’s nice of you.”
“I can be nice.” Atsumu murmured.
“I know. Thank you for… for helping me out last night.” Kiyoomi cleared his throat.
“I wasn’t gonna leave ya high and dry, now was I?”
“Why didn’t you?” Kiyoomi put his chopsticks down and turned his head to face Atsumu. “We interrupted your night in, why did you come?”
“Because yer my friend? Because I care about ya?” Atsumu turned to look at Kiyoomi too, his tone a little confused. It wasn’t a good enough explanation for Kiyoomi.
“Because you care?”
“Yes, because I care. Is it so hard ta believe?” Atsumu’s tone changed.
“No, that’s – that’s not what I meant. Actually… no it is hard to believe.”
“Why? Because I’m Miya Atsumu, asshole setter fer the Jackals. The guy who’s a dick ta even his own teammates when they don’t meet his standards, the guy who could never actually care about some –”
“It’s hard to believe you would care about me.”
“What?” Atsumu’s eyes widened. “Wh –”
“We’re the opposite. It’s clear. You’re friends with everyone, you socialise, you drink with them and go out to dinner with them. You’re friends with people on other teams. You’re good with people. I’m not. So why –”
“Kiyoomi.” Atsumu said and Kiyoomi’s eyes widened slightly at the sound of his first name, something he had never heard Atsumu refer to him as before. “Listen ta me. Yes, I’m friends with people, but most of those people are friends with ya too. I don’t know if yer dense or somethin’ that ya don’t notice what a friendship looks like, but ya got lots of them.
“And another thing, I’m not good with people. At all. I suck with people. I insult everyone an’ I’m brutally honest, an’ the people who are my friends are just used ta it. I don’t do it to them. I’m sociable sometimes sure, but I have nights like last night where I’d much rather sit in my apartment alone an’ watch movies an’ maybe get wine drunk. I’m not as perfect as ya clearly seem ta see me as.”
“Oh.”
“Man, if yer this dense about friendships, no wonder you never reacted to –” He stopped himself.
“…to?”
“Nothin’!” Atsumu laughed nervously and picked up his chopsticks once more, shovelling a bite of rice into his mouth.
“Miya.” Kiyoomi said in a threatening tone.
“Call me Atsumu an’ I might tell ya.”
“Atsumu.”
“Shit, I didn’t think ya’d actually do it.” Atsumu sighed, dropping the chopsticks, and rubbing his hands on his face.
“Atsumu, what were you going to say? Tell me,” Kiyoomi paused and softened his tone. “Please.”
“God fuckin; dammit, how am I supposed ta deny ya when ya ask me like that?” Atsumu looked up, meeting Kiyoomi’s gaze once more, cheeks flushed. “God, okay. This is gonna suck.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s really not, Omi-kun,” And Kiyoomi suddenly missed when Atsumu called him Kiyoomi. “Ugh, whatever, might as well get it over with. I was just… wonderin’… if ya were that dense about not realisin’ people were yer friends, ya must be even worse at realisin’ when I was flirtin’ with ya.”
“No, I realised.”
Atsumu made a strangled sound and the flush on his cheeks deepened. “Then –”
“I just thought you were messing around, like you always do.” Kiyoomi shrugged.
“Omi-kun, no!” Atsumu sounded wounded. “I – I wasn’t!”
“Kiyoomi.” Kiyoomi corrected.
“Huh?”
“Call me Kiyoomi.”
“I – okay… Kiyoomi, I was not messin’ around, I promise ya that. I’ve been inta ya since like second year of high school, I swear ta god. How have ya never realised? Everyone teases me about it!”
“Seemed too good to be true, to have someone like you be interested in someone like me.” Another shrug from the spiker.
“Kiyoomi, what? We need ta work on yer self-esteem, what the fuck? I’m just gonna throw compliments yer way aloud now instead of sayin’ them in my head.”
“What else are you going to do?”
“What do ya want me ta do?”
“Hm…” Kiyoomi leaned his cheek on his hand. “I suppose I’d like you to take me out to dinner. And kiss me. I’d like that.”
“Mhm, yeah, whatever ya want, Kiyoomi. Ya got it!”