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“Hey. What’re ya doin’ next Wednesday?”
“Next Wednesday,” Kiyoomi repeats the blonde. “February 14th. Valentine’s Day.”
“Geez, Omi, ya don’t gotta say it a million times. Yes, Valentine’s Day.”
Kiyoomi’s immediate thought is that this must be some kind of prank. Sure, Atsumu flirts with him from time to time, but it’s never isolated to just Kiyoomi. The guy even teases the mascot for crying out loud. The point is, he’s never shown any real interest before, so what else would prompt him to ask Kiyoomi out on the most romantic day of the year? After much deliberation, Kiyoomi simply asks, “Why?”
Atsumu sighs. “It’s my ma. She keeps settin’ me up on the worst dates. Guess I’m just too good lookin’ to be alone.” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes at the comment. “Anyway, she asked me if I had plans and I might’ve told a little white lie to get her off my back.”
“I see.” Kiyoomi begins to make sense of it all. “So you just need a warm body.”
Atsumu scratches the back of his head. “Well, kinda…except I kinda already told her it was you.”
“You did WHAT?”
“Sorry, Omi, I panicked!” Atsumu shrugs, looking guilty. “She wanted a name, and ya were the first person I could think of.”
Kiyoomi’s pretty sure that he’s insulted by the confession. “Right. Because poor, sad Sakusa couldn’t possibly have a date for Valentine’s Day, is that it?”
“No, it’s not that!” Atsumu squirms. “I’ve just never seen ya with anyone before, so I figured ya probably aren’t the datin’ type. And I thought if that’s the case, maybe ya’d be available.”
He’s not exactly wrong, per se. While Kiyoomi isn’t completely turned off by the idea of having a companion, he’s never found pleasure in the actual dating aspect of it all. Not that he has much experience in the matter. Kiyoomi declines to make Atsumu privy to any of that information, though. “Maybe I just value my privacy. Did you ever think of that?” he opts to say instead.
Atsumu’s face drops, as if appearing to have misread the situation. “Are ya sayin’ ya have a secret lover, Omi?”
“Ew.” Kiyoomi’s lip curls up in disgust. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I’m not currently seeing anyone.” He emphasizes the word ‘currently’ in an attempt to convince Atsumu that he’s not a total recluse (even if he is).
Atsumu’s eyes go wide with excitement. “That’s perfect then, ain’t it? I’ll pick ya up for dinner, we take a couple of selfies to satisfy ma, and then in a week I’ll just tell her that it wasn't meant to be.” Though the plan seems well thought out, Kiyoomi remains expressionless. “Please, Omi. I’m beggin’ ya.”
Kiyoomi blinks a few times and stares at Atsumu, who looks like he might actually get on his knees and beg if Kiyoomi says no. It’s not a terrible image to picture, but he decides to let the man keep at least a tiny shred of his dignity. “Fine,” he concedes and Atsumu beams. “But you owe me. Big time.”
Kiyoomi’s body stiffens as Atsumu goes in for an unwelcomed hug. “Thank you thank you, Omi Omi! And I’ll for everything. Don’tcha worry.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
Atsumu decides to go all out for his ‘date’ with Kiyoomi in an attempt to keep any suspicion from his mother at bay. He makes reservations at a nice Italian restaurant in the city and dresses to the nines in a light pink button down and charcoal gray slacks. Then he goes to the local konbini and picks up an assortment of flowers for good measure.
Kiyoomi's door opens within seconds of Atsumu knocking, and he’s met with what he assumes is an emotionless expression, though it's hidden behind a black mask so he can't be sure. Kiyoomi fixes the cuffs of his silky black button down and grabs his (also black) peacoat from the genkan. Atsumu can’t help but think that he looks good. “Uh, these are for you,” he stutters, handing the flowers to the man. “May I?” Atsumu asks, as he takes his phone out to catalog the moment.
Kiyoomi pulls down his mask, pursing his lips together in an awkward smile as the shutter sounds from Atsumu’s phone. Atsumu then goes to his text messages and sends the picture to his mom with the caption 'Ain’t he just the cutest?' before putting his phone back in his pocket.
“Did you want these back?” Kiyoomi asks, referring to the bouquet in hand.
“Nah, keep em. Consider it a ‘thank you’ for what I’m about to put ya through.” Atsumu smiles when he notices Kiyoomi chuckle at his joke.
Kiyoomi takes the flowers and walks further into his apartment. Atsumu peeks his head around the door to witness Kiyoomi sniffing the bouquet before putting the flowers in an empty vase on his kitchen table. Atsumu’s lip curls up once again at the gesture as Kiyoomi returns to the entrance. “Shall we go then?”
“‘m ready whenever you are!”
Kiyoomi is taken aback when Atsumu opens the car door for him. He initially felt the same way about the flowers until he realized that Atsumu likely only purchased them to further sell the ruse to his mother. And though his mother would never know about the chivalrous car door behavior, Kiyoomi brushes it off as a force of habit; nothing to get too worked up over. It is nice, though.
As Kiyoomi sits in the passenger seat, he takes a quick glance over at Atsumu, examining his chosen attire for the evening. Pink is a good color on him, he decides. Atsumu must feel his gaze, quickly peeking over at Kiyoomi before returning his eyes to the road. “Ya look nice, Omi-kun,” he says unprovoked and Kiyoomi feels a slight tilt at the corner of his mouth. “But would it kill ya to add a little color to yer wardrobe?”
Kiyoomi's usual scowl returns. “You couldn’t just leave it at ‘you look nice’?” he spits back.
“Nah, where’s the fun in that?” Atsumu quips before changing to a more serious tone as he adds, “Ya do, though. Look nice, I mean.”
Kiyoomi’s mask hides the slight blush forming across his cheeks. He’s never been much for small talk outside of their usual bickering, but there’s something comforting in how Atsumu is speaking with him now.
“Thanks,” Kiyoomi replies. “I suppose I could return the compliment.”
“Oh?” Atsumu questions as he pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant and turns to Kiyoomi. “So ya think I look good, Omi Omi?”
“What are we, in middle school? Yes, Miya. You look good.”
Atsumu giggles and gets out of the car. He hurries over to Kiyoomi’s side and opens the door, presenting his hand. Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, but decidedly grabs the outstretched palm offering to help him out of the car. He does, however, decline to take Atsumu’s arm to which the other man pouts and places his hands in his pants pockets.
When Atsumu is greeted with an ‘irasshaimase’ by the hostess, he waves and replies “Good evenin’. Miya, reservation for 2.”
“Of course. Right this way, Miya-sama,” the hostess responds.
Kiyoomi’s already very impressed with the cleanliness of the establishment, not to mention the decor. The two are sat at a small bistro table underneath a beautiful chandelier that Kiyoomi guesses is about a hundred years old, but has been modified to fit the more modern theme of the restaurant. A waiter comes by and hands each of them a menu before offering a glass of wine. “When in Rome!” Atsumu says and Kiyoomi blushes from embarrassment. The waiter gives the two a few minutes to look over the menu. “Order whatever ya want, Omi-kun. My treat.”
“This place is very nice,” Kiyoomi says as he peruses the menu, noting the astronomical prices. “A little too nice. Are you sure you want to spend this much on a fake date?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been wantin’ to try this place out for a while. Plus, it’s the least I could do, since I pretty much forced ya to come with me.”
“I could have easily said no, Miya. I’m here of my own free will, even if it is just as a favor.”
Atsumu briefly moves his chair over to Kiyoomi’s side of the table. “That reminds me…” he says as he pulls his phone back out for another photo. Kiyoomi dawns another awkward smile and they both raise their wine glasses. “Lemme just send this real quick…”
“Would you like for me to take the photo, sir?” the waiter offers upon his return.
“Actually, yeah, that’d be great! Thanks!” Atsumu replies as he moves his chair back, and Kiyoomi resumes the same uncomfortable smile. The waiter hands the phone back to Atsumu, gets their orders, and is off once again. Atsumu then looks down at his phone and frowns.
“What’s wrong?” Kiyoomi asks.
“I guess I’m startin’ to feel guilty for lyin’ to ma,” he says as he shows Kiyoomi his phone, which is open to the text conversation with Atsumu’s mother. Kiyoomi sees where she sent a teary-eyed emoji in response to the photo of Kiyoomi with the flowers. His heart sinks a little bit.
“I suppose I didn’t really think much about the other party in this charade,” Kiyoomi admits. “She seems genuinely concerned for your happiness. I wish I had a mother like that.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty great. Wouldn’t trade her for anything,” he says bashfully. “So ya aren’t close with yer family, Omi-kun?”
Kiyoomi explains that his parents were forced into an arranged marriage, and because of that he’s always associated the term ‘family’ with wealth and status, but never love. “I envy you,” he tacks on at the end, finding himself hoping that it comforts Atsumu.
“Damn,” Atsumu whispers. “I guess that explains yer rough exterior.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kiyoomi asks, a bit defensive.
The waiter returns with their food and refills their water glasses. He asks if they would like another glass of wine, to which both eagerly accept.
“I just mean that ya aren’t exactly approachable.” Atsumu stops when Kiyoomi scrunches his face and tiny lips. “Now hold on, I didn’t say it was a bad thing. I’ve learned enough about ya to know that ya don’t want to be approached. Hell, ya made a kid cry last week when he asked for yer autograph!”
“I didn’t mean to make him cry.” Kiyoomi attempts to defend himself. “He just took me by surprise, that’s all.”
“I know that,” Atsumu agrees. “And hopefully that kid’s parents will explain to him that ya can’t always go into a situation expectin’ the other person to cater to yer every whim.”
Kiyoomi furrows his brow, blinking a few times as he processes Atsumu’s rambling. “I’m not sure I follow where you’re going with this.”
“Listen, I’m not tellin’ ya to make it yer life’s mission to make every little kid cry, but I am tellin’ ya that yer tough outer shell isn’t somethin’ ya need to change or apologize for. It’s part of who ya are. And I’m just spit-ballin’ here, but I think maybe that’s because ya’ve never experienced what it’s like to feel loved.” Kiyoomi’s not sure why, but he can feel tears welling up in his eyes. Atsumu, appearing to react on instinct, reaches out across the table to grab Kiyoomi’s hand.
“Atsumu…” Kiyoomi whispers, actual tears falling now. Atsumu pulls the hand he grabbed moments ago up to his lips and presses in a delicate kiss.
“Ya deserve to feel loved, Sakusa Kiyoomi.”
And that sentence breaks him, or fixes him? Kiyoomi’s not sure, but what he does know is that he’s now leaning across the table, lips crashing into Atsumu’s as a steady stream continues to flow down his face.
When they finally break apart, the waiter comes by with a towel in hand. It seems that Kiyoomi knocked over both glasses of wine in the heat of the moment. He barely cares, but he does apologize to the waiter.
“No worries at all, sir.” The waiter smiles graciously as he wipes up the mess. “Actually, I took the liberty of taking a few photos of you two. Would you like for me to share them with you?”
Atsumu, who was already radiating with glee after Kiyoomi’s kiss, continues to beam as he responds to the waiter. “Yes, please! That would be perfect.”
Atsumu thanks the waiter again and scrolls through the new pictures with Kiyoomi. They look…happy. The waiter also happened to capture the tender moments leading up to and including their kiss, which Atsumu appears to be especially giddy about. “I can’t wait to show these to ma!” he exclaims.
Kiyoomi wrinkles his brow. “You don’t still feel bad about deceiving her?”
“What’re ya talkin’ about?” Atsumu stops to think, seeming to finally remember what brought them there in the first place. “Oh, right…Hey, Omi?”
“Yeah?”
Atsumu pauses again before continuing. “I know ya just kissed me, but I don’t want to assume anything so I’ll just come right out and ask.”
Kiyoomi touches his fingertips to his lips as he’s reminded that they did indeed kiss just moments ago. And he definitely didn’t hate it. In fact, he’d very much like to do it again…
“Will ya be my valentine?” Atsumu asks sheepishly.
Kiyoomi’s feels an unfamiliar, but welcome flutter in his stomach. He dawns a genuine smile and replies “You’re so cheesy”, all-the-while taking the question as an invitation to plant his lips on Atsumu’s once more.
Atsumu melts into the kiss and manages an "Is that a yes?" through a goofy grin.
Kiyoomi nods. “Yes.”