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If you asked someone to name the three most notable features of Miya Atsumu, his eyes, muscles, and some other facial feature were the typical answers. However, his hair was mentioned every single time without fail. Blond since high school, Miya Atsumu’s hair has experienced every shade of yellow it can. From piss to it’s current sandy shade, blond hair is undeniably his trademark feature.
It’s a big deal when one day Atsumu wakes up and finds he has let his roots grow out for far longer than he should have. That also means its time for a haircut, he reasons, blowing hair out of his eyes.
He gets ready for the day then puts on a hat to hide his hair from the world as he makes his way to the hair salon down the street. Some people may make fun of him, but no one cuts his hair quite like the girls there, and he wouldn’t trade being in the salon gossip circle for anything.
“Atsumu dear! How are you?” An older lady who sits behind the counter has gotten up to give him a hug.
Naturally, he hugs back, saying, “I’m good Mitsuki, how are ya?”
“I’m swell dear. Now, what can I do for you? It’s early, so we are a little short staffed, though that has never seemed to bother you in the past.”
“I just needa quick cut, my hairs gettin’ real long.”
Mitsuki laughs a bit at that, pointing out the fact that Atsumu’s hair reaches just below his jaw, undercut barely grown out since it was last cut.
Atsumu protests. “It’s tha longest I’ve had it since I was a kid!” But he knows just as well as Mitsuki that its a silly argument and shes just poking a little fun.
“Get set up in that chair.” She instructs. “I’ll be over in a second.”
————
Maybe Atsumu should have gotten his hair dyed at the salon a week ago. His roots are reaching deadful levels of visibility, but the corner store has been out of his dye mixture recently. He rummages through the shelves once more to make sure he cannot find a box of the lighter blond he uses.
A thought crosses his mind: Dye it back ta brown .
Its a thought he has had before, one he will have again. Atsumu is 25 years old, he has been blond for a near decade.
At this point in his life, there is no need to necessarily differentiate between his twin. There is Miya Atsumu: world renouned volleyball player, and Miya Osamu: uber successful onigiri chef. The two are not tied to the hip media wise, so why should the need to differentiate between them still persist?
Of course there is the other major stake in dying his hair back to brown. His blonde hair has been a staple in his life for a decade or so. Changing it out if the blue would be Earth shattering. Literally, the media would be all over him and his fans would probably get upset. Now, don’t get him wrong, Atsumu has gotten much softer with his fans, but also when has he ever given that much thought to what his fans want from him.
He has a stare off with a bottle of brown hair dye. He knows it will match him cause in the middle of his debate, he color swatched his hair with the one on the box.
Why not. He thinks. If I really really hate it, I can just go back ta the blond.
He grabs the box.
XXXXX
Atsumu knows Kiyoomi does not have as much practice of dying hair like he does, but he still calls up the other man anyways.
“Miya it's 10 pm, what do you want?” Kiyoomi asks. If Atsumu didn’t know the man so well, he would have assumed he had just woken up. In reality, Kiyoomi was probably watching a late night soap opera, the outside hitter being a secret fanatic.
“I need help ta dye my hair. I could come over or ya could come here. I just would like some help ya know?” Atsumu really didn’t need any help. He just wanted the other man to be in his presence.
There was silence from Kiyoomi. “Fine. I will be there in 5 minutes.” He says. The line goes dead.
Atsumu smiles at the confirmation, then gets up to clean his bathroom. It’s not dirty, let that be known. Not only does Atsumu dislike a dirty bathroom, but having Kiyoomi over fairly regularly (and also having a big fat crush on him) causes Atsumu to take extra good care of it. Tonight’s cleaning is just putting everything into a cabinet or an extra bin he has brought in so that nothing gets stained with the dye. He sets up some old newspaper and gets his designated “dye towel” out, placing them neatly around to protect his bathroom.
He hears the creaking of the door to his apartment open. Kiyoomi is here.
“I’m in tha bathroom!” Atsumu shouts as he hears keys clank in the little key bowl he has by the door.
“Alright Miya. No need to shout.” Kiyoomi says, walking into the bathroom.
He assesses the room, seeing that many surfaces are covered in newspaper and a chair has been set up in the small tub.
“I thought that ya might wanna sit down when ya do my hair, but there’s not enough room in the tub fer two chairs, so I can sit on the ground an ya can take the chair, or ya can stand an I’ll sit on tha chair. We can always switch how we’re too.” Atsumu says, taking his shirt off.
And oh.
Kiyoomi knew Atsumu was good looking. He has known it since high school. But seeing him here, taking his shirt off at ten at night, a towel draped over his shoulders, and slightly damp hair, Kiyoomi is certain that Atsumu is beautiful.
“Omi?” Atsumu asks, waving a hand in front of Kiyoomi’s face.
“Sorry. Let’s just get started.”
Atsumu puts some music on and sits on the floor of the tub. Kiyoomi sits in the chair.
They have small talk, some jokes and stories past back and forth. Atsumu waits out the first timer for his roots before Kiyoomi begins applying dye to his entire head.
“Why did you ask me to dye your hair?” Kiyoomi asks, breaking the current silence. “You know I don’t really have much experience.”
“Dyin’ hair is messy especially with dark dye. I knew ya would be careful ta not stain my skin. I can feel tha pound of vaseline ya put on me by tha way. But also, I just wanted ta. I mean why not ya know? I trust ya.”
Kiyoomi’s heart warms at that. Miya Atsumu trusts him.
“Besides,” Atsumu continues, “yer doin’ a great job.”
Kiyoomi smiles. It's one you can see over the mask he's wearing to block some of the smell. Atsumu catches it out of the corner of his phone’s reflection. He hums pleasantly at the sight and at Kiyoomi’s hands which have begun massaging in the dye to ensure it's everywhere.
Atsumu wishes this could happen all the time. Have Kiyoomi help him with frankly meaningless tasks. Have Kiyoomi’s presence be a larger part of his daily life. Atsumu has known about his big fat crush on Kiyoomi, but it’s times like these that he kicks himself for allowing such fantasies to be nearly enacted. He kicks himself because he will always want more even though he can never have it. Because Miya Atsumu is a coward at the end of the day. He will coware away from such feelings for his outside hitter in favor of a friendship. One day Kiyoomi will have a partner and Atsumu will just have to accept that, and he will in the name of the friendship he has created.
But for now, he can enjoy the way Kiyoomi’s hands feel in his hair. The gloves get a little tangled in his hair, but Kiyoomi’s fingers are felt through them, carefully running through every strand to make sure Atsumu will look the best he can be.
“Alright Miya.” Kiyoomi says. “The bottle is empty and your hair is properly saturated. Set the timer for however long the next wait is. Also, you do know, I’m sure, that this will be really dark initially right?”
“Yep. That's why I did it on a Friday. Come Monday my hair will be practically back to its original color!” Atsumu sets the timer.
Kiyoomi nods and begins to help clean up some things in the bathroom. All used dye products return to the box, gloves going in last. Kiyoomi grabs a paper towel roll from the kitchen and brings it back in. Atsumu brings the chair out of the tub and picks up the newspapers. Nothing has stained.
As they clean, Atsumu hums a song, and Kiyoomi joins in. Atsumu laughs a little, before reaching a hand out to allow Kiyoomi to take it. He accepts and Atsumu twirls him around briefly, singing the lyrics to the song out loud.
Atsumu, Kiyoomi notes, has a wonderful singing voice.
Kiyoomi sings a little out loud too, and does his best to dip Atsumu without getting any dye anywhere. Atsumu breaks out into a large smile, a faint blush coating his cheeks. Kiyoomi smiles back, a blush creeping up his neck.
Their dance is interrupted by the timer going off. This is the time where one would typically leave. A second hand is not needed to wash out dye. But the two are greedy people.
Kiyoomi yearns to be with Atsumu. Help him even when he knows it's a one man job. Be there for him at his beck and call. Do any sort of task that will involve them working in tandem. Kiyoomi is in love and he knows it. He is in love and he will do anything to stay by Atsumu, no matter the relationship they have.
And Atsumu needs Kiyoomi like a flower needs the sun to grow. He needs him even when he knows he can do something himself. He needs him even when he wants to be alone. Because Kiyoomi has a spell on Atsumu, one that makes him entranced and enamored. One that causes Atsumu to make stupid decisions like blurt out “Stay!” when the timer goes off.
Kiyoomi looks taken aback. “Stay?” he asks, a question of confirmation and a hint of confusion.
“Help me wash my hair out. Please.” Atsumu says. He doesn’t know why he feels so embarrassed asking Kiyoomi to stay. It isn’t anything more than what's been happening, but his heart is rushing at a million miles an hour and it's pounding in his ears.
Kiyoomi breathes deeply. Internally, he is bouncing off the walls, joyous for such an offer to be made towards him, and by Atsumu nonetheless. “Ok.” He says calmly.
Atsumu grabs a small box and sits on it, dropping his head over the tub. Kiyoomi sits on the side, a new pair of gloves have been put on his hands. He switches the water flow to the handheld showerhead, turns the water to cool, and begins scrubbing at Atsumu’s hair.
Atsumu hums out loud at the sensation of Kiyoomi’s hand. The way he can feel his fingernails through the gloves, pressing down just enough that Atsumu’s scalp feels properly itched. The way Kiyoomi runs his hand through Atsumu’s hair. The care that is put into cleaning out the dye. Atsumu wants it at all times.
“I’m putting the conditioner in.” Kiyoomi informs Atsumu, signaling him to put a timer on to rinse it out.
Kiyoomi’s phone reads 12:17 am. A calendar reminder tells him he has a train to catch at 8 to see his mother.
“After we wash this out, I have to go. I am seeing my mother this weekend and have an early train to catch.” Kiyoomi says.
“Ok.” Atsumu says, not missing the fact that Kiyoomi had said ‘we’ in reference to his hair.
The alarm goes off and Kiyoomi turns the water on again. He takes extra care in washing out the conditioner in Atsumu’s hair. He runs through the now dark hair, taking in each strand, noting the way Atsumu leans into his longer runs. It could almost be seen as a domestic scene, sans the fact that they weren’t together and this was a one time occurrence.
“Omi,” Atsumu says, breaking the current silence that had enveloped them.
“What Miya?”
“I just wanted ta say thank ya. I know I already said it, but it means a lot ta me.”
“Of course, Atsumu.” Kiyoomi says. Then he murmurs, “anything for you.”
Atsumu hums as Kiyoomi runs through Atsumu’s hair one last time. He brings the towel up from his shoulders and ruffles his hair.
“Sleep with a towel on your pillow for the next night or two. See you on Monday.”
“See ya!”
————
Kiyoomi is exhausted. It is far too early, in his opinion, for practice to begin at 8 am on a Monday morning.
His mother had been fine, there was nothing special that had occured. She had asked him the basics: “are you seeing anyone”, “are you having kids any time soon”, and “when are you getting married”. The answers were “no”, “no”, and “no”. His train had been delayed and he did not get home until 3 am. Now, at 8 am, he is running around the gym, getting ready for practice. He sees Meian look at his watch then look at the players, then back to his watch again. Kiyoomi looks around to see what Meian is looking at, or rather, for. It’s quiet, he notes. Atsumu is not here yet.
Five minutes later, the door opens.
“Osamu?” Hinata asks, causing everyone else’s head to perk up.
“Do you have any onigiri with you?” Bokuto asks, leaning on Hinata’s shoulder.
‘Osamu’ blinks. “I’m not ‘Samu.”
Kiyoomi finally stops running and looks at Atsumu. It’s as if the heavens have opened up to envelop the man standing in the doorway. Sure, nothing but his hair has changed, but his aura is different. His hair is styled a little lower than what it usually is, and it has lost most of the typical purple wash that comes with darker dyes. Instead, his hair is just a little darker than what his roots were, but the light makes it light enough to match his original hair. Speaking of the light, it frames Atsumu like a god. The light pours through his hair making it look like it was spun with gold. The color becomes dynamic against Atsumu’s face, brightening his face and bringing out his eyes.
Kiyoomi is awestruck.
“Atsumu?” Hinata says in shock.
“You changed your hair?” Bokuto asked.
“Yea. I needed a change ya know. It’s just fer fun. I may go back if I wanna.” Atsumu explains with a small shrug.
“Alright! Atsumu, go put your stuff away and run some extra laps after practice for being late. The rest of you, get back to running.” Meian commands, taking the room out of its collective trance.
Kiyoomi is not taken out of the trance. He trips on nothing once or twice, misses a few spikes, and makes careless errors. It's not enough to raise concerns to send him home, but Atsumu is definitely aware.
He runs his extra laps as fast as possible to be able to make it back to the locker room in time to catch up with Kiyoomi, who is drying his hair off from his shower.
“Omi, what happened ta ya today?” He asks, genuine concern in his voice.
“Nothing Miya, don’t worry about it.” Kiyoomi says, waving him off.
“If ya say so Omi.” Atsumu says, not confident in the answer he has been given. “Ya wanna walk home?”
“We always walk home, Miya.”
“Yeah yeah, but I still wanted ta ask. Ya know, chivalry an whatever.”
“Chivalry? Where did you learn such a big word?”
“I know big words! Just cause I didn’t go to college doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Not my fault I was gettin’ money thrown at me left an right.”
“Whatever Miya, if your ready, lets go.”
XXXXX
The problem is not solved the next day, or the next, or even the day after that. They repeat this cycle of Kiyoomi messing up and Atsumu confronting him the entire week.
Kiyoomi would sooner die than tell Atsumu heis still in awe of everything that is Miya Atsumu and his stupid hair. That stupid stupid hair. So he lies and says nothing is wrong.
It’s driving Atsumu crazy. He knows something is wrong, so why won’t Kiyoomi tell him?
Friday after practice, Atsumu corners Kiyoomi in the locker room once and for all.
“Ya know Omi.” Atsumu says. “If ya have some issue with me, ya should just say it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kiyoomi asks.
“Omi yer one of tha most infuriating people I’ve ever met. Ya’ve been fuckin’ up in practice every single day this week, an it’s mostly when ya work with me. So what’s yer damn deal? Just spit it out already.”
Kiyoomi takes a deep breath, contemplating whether he should actually go through with telling the truth. “Your hair.” He says.
“My hair?” Atsumu asks. He puts a hand up to it and a frown crosses his face. “Do ya hate it?”
Kiyoomi looks up wide-eyed. “No! No, I don’t hate it.” He says. Then murmuring “I like it a lot, actually.”
“Ya what?”
“I said I like it a lot! God are you happy? Your stupid hair looks good and it is so damn distracting to me. It looks too good on you. I mean, you already looked good blond, and now you look even better? It’s unfair.” Kiyoomi’s neck feels like it’s on fire from how much he’s blushing.
“Ya think I look good?” Atsumu says, a similar blush creeping on his face.
“Yes. Does that please your big head? Is my attraction to you stroking your ego to satisfaction?”
“That’s not the only thing ya could stroke to satisfaction.” Atsumu laughs as he says it.
“Miya.”
“Sorry, sorry. Would it make ya feel better if I said I thought ya were hot too?”
“We have all seen your Twitter, this is not a revelation.”
“Fine.” Atsumu says, spite festering in him, preparing for a confession that may very well ruin his life. “Ya want some revelation? I’ll give ya revelation. I have had a big fat crush on ya since ya joined this team. Yer so stupidly good lookin’ an ya actually seem ta like me an it means a lot ta me that ya do, an even before all that set into how it is now, I fell in love with ya. An it’s so awful tha way ya make me act like a fool ta get some attention from ya. Hell, I asked ya ta help dye my hair with me cause I needed an excuse to spend more time with ya. Yer charmin’ an charasmatic an no one really gets me like ya do. Not even ‘Samu. So ya want revelation, I’m in love with ya, Sakusa Kiyoomi.”
“Oh.” Is all Kiyoomi says in return.
“Yeah ‘Oh’. I’ve fucked up our whole friendship an all ya can say is oh.” Atsumu throws his hands up in the air and sits on the bench beside him in exasperation.
“Atsumu, you’re so thick-skulled it should be a sport to try and get anything of meaning into your brain. I like you too. For reasons I have no answer too. But you’ve trapped me in a spell and I can’t get out of it. I don't know when it happened, but I know for sure that it has single-handedly ruined my life for every second I’ve been on this team. I have done everything I can to get you closer to me. You’re my permanent roommate and busmate and the only person who is allowed into my apartment. I constantly hang off your shoulder and you talk to the press for me. Half my fridge is filled with food you like, I even have a toothbrush for you in my goddamn bathroom. My sister, by the way, is convinced we are dating even though I have to tell her every time she mentions you that we are not, but I would love to tell her the next time that we are. You didn’t ruin this friendship, because how can supposed feelings ruin something when they are requited. I love you, Miya Atsumu.”
Atsumu hums it pleasantly. “Ya know,” he says, “I can thinka another way ya could get that through my ‘thick-skull’.” He throws a wink in for extra annoyance points.
Kiyoomi can feel the energy of a bad idea brewing around Atsumu, but he chooses to indulge anyway. He gets almost too close for comfort and whispers “What?” in Atsumu’s ear.
“Kiss me.” Atsumu says, voice unwavering.
Kiyoomi does just that.