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Kiyoomi can hear the party before she actually sees it. The music is loud enough to give her a headache, even over the noise of her bike as she finds a place to park further down the street. She debates leaving her helmet on to drown out the noise inside the house, but thinks better of it, leaving it behind as she walks up the front steps.
Motoya emerges from the party before Kiyoomi even has a chance to reach for the door handle. “Kiyo! Wow, I didn’t think you’d actually show,” her cousin exclaims, reaching out like she’s going in for a hug, but never actually touching her. “I’m glad you’re here, you need a night off! Come on, come on!” Motoya continues rambling on, ushering Kiyoomi through the front door.
The volume of the party is exactly as jarring as Kiyoomi expected, if not worse. Motoya has to yell next to her ear just to be heard. She says something about Kiyoomi needing a drink, and guides her towards the kitchen.
The two weave between people as they make their way through the house, Kiyoomi wanting that drink more and more with each body that brushes her back or bumps her arm. She’s prepared to drink just about anything by the time they clear the short distance to the kitchen, but Kiyoomi’s thoughts are halted as she takes in the sight she’s met with.
“You didn’t tell me she would be here,” she grimaces.
Motoya pauses, looking from Kiyoomi, to the kitchen, and back to Kiyoomi, following her cousin’s gaze. “Oh. Oh! Kiyo, I didn’t know she was invited,” Komori says, realization dawning on her, “Really, I didn’t! Let me just get you that drink, okay?”
Motoya shuffles off, but Kiyoomi stays frozen in the doorway to the kitchen. She continues to stare, taking in the person who stands before her. She’s wearing a tight purple mini skirt— one Kiyoomi knows all too well— and has her long blonde hair pulled over one shoulder as she leans on the counter. She throws her head back in exaggerated laughter as the man in front of her, who Kiyoomi hadn’t even noticed, says something likely very unfunny.
The laughter rattles in Kiyoomi’s ears, a sound she could recognize at even the quietest volume. Miya Atsumu’s laugh used to be contagious, but now, nearly a year after their breakup, it only brings annoyance to Kiyoomi, much like the sound of a mosquito buzzing around her head.
Kiyoomi finally comes to her senses and turns to leave the godforsaken party she didn’t want to be at in the first place, but only manages a couple steps towards the door before Motoya returns and shoves a plastic cup of something into Kiyoomi’s hand. Kiyoomi hopes it’s strong.
“Oh, don’t leave!” Motoya pleads, clutching her own drink, “At least stay a couple hours. You probably won’t even have to speak to her, really.”
Kiyoomi gives her cousin a withering look, but agrees, and Motoya begins ushering her away from the kitchen. Kiyoomi keeps her drink close to her chest as she walks, a hand over the top to keep it safe. Her face feels hot. Whether that’s from the rising temperature of the party, her already half empty drink, or residual anger at Atsumu, she isn’t sure.
A few rooms over from the kitchen, Motoya excitedly flags someone down. The short orange haired girl jumps in surprise, then her face lights up at the recognition of Motoya and Kiyoomi.
“Komori! Omi! I’m so happy you made it!” Hinata beams, her ponytail swishing as she bounces with each word.
Kiyoomi can’t help but crack a small smile at the other girl. She’s always been fond of Hinata, though it’s hard not to like someone as bright and caring as her. In another world, where they were both looking for something serious, things might’ve worked out well between them. But when they hooked up at the start of the semester, Kiyoomi didn’t think she could balance a relationship with her coursework, and Hinata was just enjoying having casual flings in her first year of college.
Motoya laughs, “I practically had to drag this one here, you know how she is,” she says, pointing to Kiyoomi with her thumb, “Wouldn’t socialize with anyone if you didn’t make her leave her room.”
“I call you and Itsumi everyday,” Kiyoomi retorts.
Hinata’s eyes crinkle and she dips her head as she laughs. There’s a glow about her that no one on Earth could replicate, no matter how hard they tried.
“Mimi is your sister, she doesn’t count,” Motoya scoffs, “And you only talk to me because I call you everyday!”
Kiyoomi dismisses her with a wave of her hand and takes another sip of her drink.
“Well, Omi can do plenty of socializing tonight!” Hinata says, “I think I saw Tendou around here somewhere…” She trails off, scanning the room for Tendou before striking up conversation again to tell a story about the beginners cooking class she started taking. “And there were pepper seeds everywhere and my hands were wet so they just kept sticking to me, it was horrible! You would’ve hated it, Omi.”
Kiyoomi smiles at the thought of Hinata knowing her well enough to recognize that the mess of the kitchen and feeling of wet pepper seeds on her hands would be something akin to a nightmare for her.
Hinata continues talking, and after a while Motoya taps Kiyoomi on the shoulder, leaning in to speak near her ear, “I see Suna over there, I’m gonna go say hi! Will you be okay here?”
Kiyoomi nods, and Motoya says a quick goodbye to Hinata, giving Kiyoomi a thumbs up as she leaves.
With Motoya gone, Kiyoomi moves closer to Hinata, filling the gap her cousin left. She can hear Hinata much better from this distance, making it easier to listen to the other girl ramble on and on. If no one stopped her, she would probably just keep telling stories forever.
Listening to Hinata is easy. Kiyoomi sips her drink leisurely, shifting out of the way as people pass by the two of them. A problem arises, however, when Kiyoomi realizes the spot she’s moved into has her facing the kitchen again, with a perfect view of Atsumu.
She tries to keep engaged with Hinata's stories, really, she does. But Atsumu keeps throwing her head back to laugh, and brushing hair behind her ears, and delicately touching people’s arms, and it’s distracting, to say the least. Not to mention her lipstick is smudged enough for Kiyoomi to see it from here, no doubt from kissing someone, or a few someones, and that makes Kiyoomi angry all over again. They aren’t together, so it really isn’t her business, but the least Atsumu could do is fix her damn lipstick.
Kiyoomi scoffs, and goes to take another sip of her drink, only to find it’s empty already. She tilts the cup back to double check, frowning.
“What’s wrong, Omi?” Hinata asks. She tilts her head in question, concern in her eyes.
Kiyoomi shakes her head, “I just need another drink, don’t worry.” She feels bad for causing concern for Hinata, so she gives a small wave as she starts working her way through the crowd towards the kitchen.
She’s careful to keep her head down when she nears the kitchen, making a beeline for the drink table in hopes that a certain blonde won’t catch sight of her. She’s almost made it to the table when the inevitable happens.
“Omi-Omi, is that you?”
The voice is tinged with spite and the words are a little slurred by alcohol, but the familiar clip of each vowel is unmistakable. Kiyoomi can practically hear the stupid smirk she’ll see when she turns around. She raises her head in defeat and grates her teeth as she speaks, “What do you want, Miya?”
Atsumu gasps with exaggerated surprise, “So it is you, Omi-Omi! I’m surprised to see ya at a party of all places. Did your cousin drag you outta your room? Or did she trick ya into coming?” The cocky grin is on full display, as is much of her chest when Atsumu leans into her taunts. Kiyoomi only flits her gaze down for half a second, but she’s sure Atsumu noticed. She always was unreasonably perceptive. “What’s wrong? I would’a thought you’d take that stick outta your ass for a party, at least.”
Kiyoomi rolls her eyes and leans back on the table behind her. There are a few canned drinks left out, so she takes one of those and ditches her cup. The drink is a little warmer than she’d like, but it’ll do. “You always loved the sound of your own voice. I can’t believe you’re still like this.”
“Like what?” Atsumu asks, “Beautiful, hilarious, the most captivatin’ person in every room? Ya gotta be more specific here.”
“You have lipstick all over your face.”
Atsumu slowly drags a thumb along the bottom of her lower lip, smudging the lipstick more in the process. She holds her hand out in front of her to confirm. “Looks like you’re right,” She says, then turns in the direction of the stairs, “I’m gonna go fix my face, you’re welcome ta join, Omi!”
With a huff, Kiyoomi pushes herself off the table and follows. When they reach the bathroom Kiyoomi shuts the door behind them, needing a break from the noise. Atsumu heads for the sink, putting her small purse on the counter and rooting around in it for her lipstick. Kiyoomi catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, noticing the slight flush of her cheeks. Her curls are still perfectly intact, though a little frizzy, with the left side pinned behind her ear. She attempts to smooth down some of the frizz at the top with her hands as she sits on the edge of the bathtub.
From her seat behind Atsumu, Kiyoomi can see the purple miniskirt again. She knows it's one of Atsumu’s favourites. It used to be one of Kiyoomi’s favourites, too, when they were together. The skirt hugs her figure perfectly, showing off every curve and dip of her hips, and just long enough to cover her ass.
“Like what ya see?” Atsumu winks in the mirror. She’s removing her lipstick with a makeup wipe she seemingly grabbed out of thin air.
Kiyoomi flushes at being caught. “You know I’ve always liked that skirt. I was trying to remember where you got it.”
“Mhm, sure. Ya know, you don’t have to pretend I’m not attractive just ‘cause we broke up, Omi. I mean, those moles of yours are still too damn cute, and yer thighs-” Kiyoomi glares at her in the reflection, “Fine, fine. Speakin’ of skirts, I’m surprised you’re not wearin’ one tonight. Since when do ya wear leather pants?”
“I can’t wear skirts on the bike. It’s not safe.” Kiyoomi sips her drink.
“No way! You got that motorcycle ya wanted? Finally conquered that fear of disappointing yer folks, huh?”
Kiyoomi rolls her eyes. “Itsumi helped me find one and learn to ride after I came out. Mom was a little shocked, but ultimately got over it. I don’t speak to Dad anymore. It was rough, I needed an outlet of some sort, hence the motorcycle. And the haircut.” She gestures to her hair, now cut in a bob instead of her old lengthy curls.
“Shit, Omi. I had no idea. ‘M sorry your dad was shitty about it.” Atsumu sets down the lipstick, frowning.
“Whatever. I couldn’t keep hiding it forever. They kept bringing up husbands every time I visited home.”
Atsumu frowns sympathetically and goes back to her lipstick. Silence falls over them for a while, only the muffled sound of the party can be heard while Kiyoomi works her way through the vodka cooler in her hand. She mulls over what she said, and the sneaking feeling that your coming out experience isn’t something you should talk about with your ex creeps up inside her.
Finally, with a couple pops of her lips Atsumu turns around and announces, “I’m done. How’s it look?”
The nude lipstick she chose fits Atsumu’s complexion perfectly, and looks like it was applied with an expert’s hand. Kiyoomi tries not to stare at her lips too long, feeling heat rise on the back of her neck up to her ears. “Good. That’s a nice colour on you.”
“Aw, Omi! See, I knew you could be nice.” Atsumu smiles, turning back to her tiny purple purse on the counter, “Y’know ya could really use some colour on your face. I got that red lipstick ya like in her somewhere.” She roots through her bag some more, pulling out a lipstick and uncapping it to reveal a deep red shade. “This’ll look great with your whole biker get-up, don’t’cha think?”
Kiyoomi scrunches up her face involuntarily at the thought of using someone else’s lipstick, “I’m not using that.”
“Omi. We’ve done so much worse than sharing lipsticks, come on.”
“You’re so vulgar,” Kiyoomi complains, but she doesn’t stop Atsumu from joining her on the edge of the bathtub. She reaches out to take the lipstick, but Atsumu snatches it away.
“Ah, let me do it, Omi. You always mess it up.” Kiyoomi glares in response.
Atsumu looks around as if she’s trying to find something. “What is it? Are you going to apply the colour or not?”
“I can’t get a good angle like this,” Atsumu says, scanning the bathroom some more. Finally, she lands on the inside of the tub. “Oh! Here, Omi. Sit in the tub.”
“I am not sitting in someone else’s bath, Miya.”
Atsumu rolls her eyes, standing and handing the lipstick off to Kiyoomi. She then walks to the bathroom cabinet where Kiyoomi knows the towels are located. She pulls a clean white towel off the top shelf and shakes it out in front of her.
“How do you know where to find those?” Kiyoomi asks.
Atsumu looks between the towel and Kiyoomi, confused. “The towels? I used ta hook up with this girl who lived here, and ya know we need a towel to clean up after all that.”
“Do you have any manners?” Kiyoomi asks. Then she thinks for a moment about who’s house the two of them are currently in, “Hold on, did you sleep with Hinata Shouyou?”
Atsumu laughs, “Yeah, I did. What’s the matter, Omi? I know yer not the ray of sunshine Shouyou is, but I didn’t think you’d be the type to slutshame.”
Kiyoomi shakes her head, “It’s not that. I’ve been with her too, at the start of the semester. I can’t believe your stupid flirting tactics worked on her.”
“Well they worked on you, too, remember?” Atsumu returns to the bath with the unfolded towel in hand, “We’re really livin’ up to the lesbian stereotypes here, huh?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m Omi-proofing the tub, obviously,” Atsumu says, laying down the towel with a dramatic flare of her wrist, “M’lady, your seat is ready.”
Kiyoomi sighs, but carefully slides into the empty bath to sit on the towel. She bends her legs to fit, and Atsumu quickly slots herself between them, kneeling to face her. She leans over Kiyoomi, uncapping the lipstick again and hooking a finger under her chin to tilt her head up.
“Try not to move too much, yeah? Don’t wanna smudge it.”
Kiyoomi’s heart betrays her, skipping a beat. If she didn’t know better she would think Atsumu could hear it hammering in her chest with how close they are. She tries to stay still as Atsumu begins swiping colour on her lips, gently turning Kiyoomi’s head one way or another to see what she’s doing. Kiyoomi doesn’t know where to look. Looking at Atsumu feels too intense, so she settles on closing her eyes while the other girl works. She can feel Atsumu’s legs pressed against hers in the small confines of the bathtub, shifting slightly with each of her movements. She’s sure if she looked now, she would see that purple skirt riding up. Kiyoomi keeps her eyes closed.
After a few minutes, Atsumu moves Kiyoomi’s head to face forward and leans back. She gently swipes some colour from the corner of Kiyoomi’s mouth, then sighs. “Okay, ‘m done. Open your eyes, sleepin’ beauty.”
“I wasn’t-” Kiyoomi tries to reply, but her breath catches in her chest. Atsumu is nearly face to face with her. Her cheeks are pink and her long hair is tucked behind both her ears, falling over her shoulders beautifully. From this close, Kiyoomi can see her dark roots are coming in slightly.
It’s then that Kiyoomi realizes her hand is resting on Atsumu’s hip. She doesn’t even know when she did that. She starts to pull away, but Atsumu reaches out and grabs Kiyoomi’s arm, keeping her hand planted there. With Atsumu’s free hand, she pushes a stray curl out of Kiyoomi’s face.
“I wasn’t lyin’, earlier. When I said I still think you’re beautiful. Hell, Omi. I still think about kissin’ ya all the damn time.” Atsumu barely speaks above a whisper, leaning in impossibly close. Kiyoomi can feel her breath on her cheek, warm and sweet, just like she remembers.
Kiyomi glances down at the other girl's lips, and then her restraint is gone. She closes the distance in a second, placing both hands on Atsumu’s hips to pull her closer. Atsumu reciprocates immediately. She cups Kiyoomi’s face and quickly finds the curve of her waist, fingers playing with the fraying hem of her shirt.
The kiss is breathless. It lasts forever, but still not long enough. Their lips slot together perfectly, exactly as they always used to, but still so much better than before. Separating to breathe feels like a crime.
Atsumu’s hand finds its way under Kiyoomi’s shirt, trailing up her torso to the lace hem of bra, then back down to the waistband of her pants. Her fingers begin to venture under the fabric, thumb hooking into the belt loop. Kiyoomi reaches out, seizing Atsumu’s wrist. She pulls away, just barely, to whisper against the other’s lips, “Atsumu, not here.” She breathes.
Atsumu cracks a smile and presses her forehead against Kiyoomi’s, “Ah good. I was gettin’ worried for a minute, there. Thought you might’a forgotten my name.”
Kiyoomi rolls her eyes, laughing as she leans back in.
They lose track of time, kissing senselessly in the bathtub until they have to come up for air, then kissing all over again. Kiyoomi’s brain shuts off, only needing to consider the girl in front of her for the time being.
She’s barely present as a voice grows steadily louder, approaching the bathroom door, “Be right there, just gonna grab a hand towel, ‘kay?”
Kiyoomi doesn’t even consider the possibility of the door being unlocked until it’s open, and a figure with bright orange hair enters the bathroom. “Oh!” She says, looking between both girls, tangled in a bathtub. In her bathtub, Kiyoomi realizes, because the figure before her is none other than Hinata.
Kiyoomi starts to explain, but Hinata beats her to it. “I just needed a towel! I’m glad you two worked things out,” She beams, opening the cabinet quickly and then hurrying out the door. She pops her head back in before leaving, “You should probably lock this, though.”
The door closes, and Kiyoomi looks to Atsumu with shock. “Did you tell her we used to date?” She asks.
Atsumu shakes her head. Kiyoomi thinks for a moment, then shrugs. She takes in Atsumu’s face in front of her. She’s flushed pink and breathless, lips swollen and hair a mess. The purple skirt has most definitely moved up her thighs since getting in the tub. Kiyoomi smiles, “You have lipstick all over your face.”
Atsumu leans in, peppering kisses all over Kiyoomi’s face until she starts giggling, “So do you.” She says. Finally she presses one to Kiyoomi’s lips, sweeter than all the rest. “So, when do I get a ride on that motorcycle of yours?”
Kiyoomi kisses her again and again, sweet and slow, “Don’t press your luck.”