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Even now, after years together, Shoyo feels an uptick in his heartbeat as he touches Tsumu’s hair. The strands feel a little thin, but soft still. Tsumu takes care of it as best as he can even if he insists on frying it with the bleach.
Luckily, he already had his roots touched earlier this week, but somehow, he’d still come out of the salon with hair too long.
“I like it best when you cut it,” was all Atsumu had said when Shoyo had raised his eyebrows. He’d looked like a little kid, eyes downcast and scuffing his slipper on their wooden floors.
And really, what was Shoyo to do with that if not go up to his tiptoes and kiss his pout away?
It’s not like he minds. At all. Cherishes it even more, now.
His fingers card between thick strands to gauge how much to cut, but he gets a little lost just scratching through Tsumu’s hair.
Tsumu slurs, “Yer gonna make me fall asleep.”
“Go ahead.” Shoyo says easily. “I’ll take care of you.”
Tsumu practically melts, the last of his tension dripping off him and rendering him soft and malleable in Shoyo’s hands. He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “Always straight to the heart.” and Shoyo ruffles his hair affectionately in response.
He grabs the spray bottle to dampen the mess and combs it all back in place, settling into the familiar routine.
As he nudges Tsumu’s head the way he needs it, his thoughts wonder off to places he’d rather leave alone.
Will he be allowed to keep this? Even when he’s chosen to go back to Brazil?
Will Tsumu drift away as time and distance take their toll?
Just thinking it makes his heart feel two tons too heavy, and yet, it would be better than feeling himself give up first.
But that’s not gonna happen , Shoyo thinks, staring at the back of his neck. The stars would crash and turn to stone before Shoyo ever gave up on the man in front of him.
There will always be a part of him that loves Miya Atsumu despite anything the future might bring. No distance, time or heartbreak can compare to what he feels. He’s sure of that much.
He shakes his head and scratches his blunt fingernails over Tsumu’s scalp, burying his morose thoughts with a brush of lips on his temple. “Gonna start.”
Tsumu hums. And raises a hand from under the blanket —wrapped around him to catch the clumps of hair— to give him a sleepy thumbs up.
He gets to work. Measuring the first clump and snipping it off. It used to be a little nerve wracking at first, but after doing it for the past two years, it’s basically a well-worn and practiced ritual.
It used to be Osamu’s job. Each twin taking turns whenever their dark roots started showing and needed a trim. He remembers how honoured he’d felt to step into the shoes of someone so important to Tsumu.
When he’d said that out loud, Tsumu had tilted his head at him and simply said, “You’re important, too.” And then had gone on to say what a butt Osamu was for whatever reason, and Shoyo had laughed, but he still feels that realisation warm through him.
It doesn’t take him long. In less than an hour he’s done, and circling his boyfriend to catch excess clumps and untying the blanket around him to fold up and deal with later.
When he stops in front of him, Tsumu wraps an arm around him and pulls him in his lap. “Did ya make me even more handsome?”
Shoyo doesn’t miss a beat, “Impossible,” laughs at Tsumu’s affronted gasp and continues, “When you’re already the handsomest no matter the haircut.”
“Shoyooo,” Tsumu groans, “It’s impossible to win with you.”
He pats his face, relishing in Tsumu’s relaxed happiness. “My pretty peacock.”
Tsumu snorts but doesn’t protest. So aware of himself, his boyfriend. He feels like he could drown from the affection and love that overwhelms him. He’s gonna miss this.
He’s gonna miss him .
Shoyo brushes his hair back wistfully, “I’ll miss doing this for you.”
“Really?” Tsumu looks delighted, if a bit sad at the edges, quick on the uptake of Shoyo’s tone.
He hums, leaning his temple against Tsumu’s forehead. “It won’t be easy,” he whispers it like a secret only they’re allowed to know.
“Shoyo,” Tsumu starts like he’s going to protest, but then, sighs, “ I know. ”
Cupping his face, Shoyo holds his eyes, entreating, “I won’t give up, if you won’t.”
Tsumu smiles at him like he does when he thinks Shoyo said or did something silly. With that tilt of his head. “Baby, I’ve waited six years to set for you. I can wait that and more, if I get to spend the rest of my life doing dishes and folding laundry with you.”
Shoyo breathes out.
And that’s that.
All the promise he needs to lift his heart and make it easier to breathe.
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
Shoyo jerks awake to the sound of the front door closing shut. He forces his heavy lids open and listens to the sound of his boyfriend shedding his winter coat and stepping out of his shoes at the same time.
Rushed footsteps, then a rush of breath as he stops in the doorway, “Shoyo,” Tsumu’s whisper is equal parts relieved and wretched. “Missed you so much— fuck .” His voice breaks. “So much.”
Shoyo turns in the arms Tsumu wraps around him and hangs on tight, breathing in. “Missed you, too.” He smells of night air and the pine car-freshener in Akaashi-san’s new Nissan.
“You’re so warm,” Tsumu sounds like he’s crying a bit. Shoyo leans back to check and sure enough there’re tears in his boyfriend’s eyes.
He laughs, feeling his eyelashes getting damp, too, and cups his face. “Tadaima .”
Tsumu buries his face into Shoyo’s hair and breathes deeply. “ Okaeri ,” he starts leaving quick, little kisses all over his forehead and cheeks, his nose and chin. “Gonna shower quick and then I’ll be back,” loud smooches back on his cheek. “Gonna go now.” But he keeps holding onto Shoyo and pressing their faces together.
Shoyo giggles softly, rubbing his cheek against Tsumu’s once, before he leans back and bites his chin. “Go on,” he grabs his hands and kisses the back of his fingers. “I’ll be right here.”
Tsumu’s eyes spark with heat before it fizzles out with a pained groan. “I’m actually exhausted,” he looks on the verge of tears again.
Shoyo laughs, loudly this time. “Me too. The flight back was rough,” he sighs and looks back up at his boyfriend with a small smile. “We’ll cuddle.”
Tsumu’s bottom lip wobbles and he exhales, shoving his index and thumb into his eyes before they can leak more tears. “Yes, that’s perfect— fuck , I’m going, going, going —” He walks out of the room backward with his eyes still shielded to resist temptation. “Gone!” He shouts just outside of their bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind him.
Shoyo flops back into the warm bedsheets with a big, happy grin. He curls back onto Tsumu’s side of the bed and listens to the sounds of the shower starting to run before he closes his eyes.
He wakes up again, to Tsumu’s fingers combing his hair back. “Scoot over ye greedy little man,” he says in the gentlest tone ever possible.
Shoyo, still half asleep, laughs and drags his body backwards to make space.
“Now, com’ere,” Tsumu fits an arm under his side and bodily drags him back so they’re chest to chest. “Gods, how’re you so warm .” He sounds a little delirious, nuzzling Shoyo’s face like he can’t get enough.
Shoyo hums, feeling at Tsumu’s hair with a floppy hand, “You’re still damp.”
“I blew it with the hairdryer as long as I could stomach and then gave up. Couldn’t wait to get to you.”
Shoyo hand finds Tsumu’s ear and pats the side of his face. “You’re gonna regret it tomorrow when you’ll wake up with four cowlicks.”
“No,” Tsumu locks him tighter in his arms, the bicep under Shoyo’s neck straining, “This is worth it.”
Shoyo kisses what’s closes to him, which happens to be his clavicle, and Tsumu’s shivers from it. “How was practice?”
“Got seven points with my hybrid serve, and Omi-kun sprayed me with his disinfectant again.” He sounds like he’s smiling. His hand is cupping the back of Shoyo’s neck, and it should feel stifling, but Shoyo only feels safe. “So, same old. What about your flight?”
Shoyo tries to curl closer, closing his fist around Tsumu’s soft henley and pulling him in, “Couldn’t sleep cuz the guy next to me had a really small bladder, but he didn’t want to switch seats cuz he said he’d feel sick if he didn’t have the window to look out from.”
Tsumu mutters something mean and disbelieving over the audacity of some people.
“It’s alright. Felt actually sorry for him, I don’t think he was faking it,” Shoyo winces remembering how green the poor guy looked. “I’m just glad he didn’t throw up.”
Tsumu sighs, warming his hand under Shoyo’s T-shirt to feel the bumps of his spine. “You’re too good.”
Shivers travel up his back from each light touch and he curls closer, closer , tucking himself under Tsumu’s jaw. He nuzzles the soft skin there and sighs. He smells so good. “Wished you could’ve been there. It wouldn’t have been as bad if I could’ve laughed with you about it.”
“Would’ve glared at the guy into holding it a little longer,” he huffs.
“Your mean look would’ve made him pee himself,” says Shoyo matter of factly. “And then where would we be?”
Tsumu snorts loudly, “Shut yer trap, don’t make me laugh,” he roughly ruffles Shoyo’s hair. “Sleep time.”
Shoyo digs two fingers into Tsumu’s side, making him yelp and kick out. “You’re the one that asked!”
“Sorry—ohmygod, Shoyoo! I said I’m sorry!”
Shoyo takes pity on him and smacks a loud kiss on his lips. “Thas! What I thought.”
Tsumu wheezes.
Shoyo pats his cheek, “Sleep time,” he repeats, cheekily and settles back curled into Tsumu’s side, pulling his big arm back around himself.
Two beats pass then, Tsumu laughs softly, a little giddy. “I really missed you. So much .”
Shoyo presses his smile onto Tsumu’s pec, just above his heart. “I know.”
This time it’s Tsumu that pokes a finger onto his side, albeit much more lightly.
Shoyo cackles, then relents with a happy smile. “Missed you too.”
Tsumu kisses him welcome home again.
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆
Tsumu has always been the most openly affectionate between the two of them. Always hugging him from behind or leaning on him. Whether he’s making breakfast in the morning, strategizing some sort of play to try at practice, or even just like now: folding laundry.
Shoyo’s sitting on the floor, a mountain of their laundry in front of him and little stacks of folded clothes around him forming a semicircle.
Tsumu had settled behind him a few minutes ago, chin hooked over his shoulder and arms like a band of steel around his midsection.
It’s nice. It’s perfect . Which is why he drops the socks he was rolling when he feels the arms around him loosen their grip.
“No!” He pouts, holding onto the arms. “Where are you going?”
Tsumu’s surprise gives way to barely concealed delight. “Nowhere,” he laughs, nuzzling into Shoyo’s face and kissing his cheek. “I was going to help.”
Shoyo shakes his head, threading his fingers through his and locking him in place. “Stay like this.”
Tsumu pouts. “But I wanna help you.”
Shoyo pats the back of his hand and turns back to the laundry mountain, “Tell me a story.”
“A story?” Tsumu curls closer around him to press their cheeks together. “About what?”
“Anything,” he shrugs. “Maybe something about when you were a kid.”
Tsumu hums as he thinks it over, starting rocking them side to side just because he can. Shoyo laughs, going with the motions as he folds two pairs or shorts, a towel and a pair of his own boxers before Tsumu finally stops. “Ah.”
Shoyo grins in response to the one he could feel in Atsumu’s voice. “Got one?”
“Yeah,” he snorts. “I think we were in 7th grade; it was our first volleyball summer camp. Aran-kun was supposed to be in the same bus as us and Samu and I fought all of the day and night before about who would get to sit next to him.”
“But what about the friends in Aran-kun’s class?”
“Oh, we didn’t think about them. We were two brats only thinking about what we wanted.”
Shoyo can’t help the snort. He can picture it so well. A little Atsumu so used to getting his way that he wouldn’t even consider thinking about how someone else might feel. “And what you wanted was sit next to Aran-kun?”
“Dude, yeah. He was already so friggin cool, I wanted to be his friend so bad.”
Shoyo leans back against Tsumu’s chest and looks up at his face. “And did you?”
“No,” Tsumu‘a eyes turn into two crescent moons as he laughs. “Okasan had enough of us beating each other up and told us to decide over breakfast with a game of rock, paper and scissors supervised by her.”
Shoyo gasps, but he’s already laughing. “But you always start with paper, first.”
“Yeah,” he wrinkles his nose, embarrassed by his idiotic tell he can’t seem to shake off no matter how aware of it he is. “And, of course, that butt of a brother of mine had already figured it out then, and fucking won.”
“Awww,” Shoyo turns into his hold so he’s lying sideways between his long legs and pets his chest. “I’m sure you got to sit next to Aran-kun plenty of times after that.”
“Oh, yeah, but the story isn’t over.” He smirks down at him. His big palms accommodating the new position by settling one cupping his elbow and the other curling on his waist. “Got my revenge.”
Shoyo raises his eyebrows. “Oh?” He kinds of really likes it when Atsumu’s lazy grin turns a little mean. It always means something fun for him.
“Aran-kun the cool guy he is, didn’t mind that Samu wanted to sit next to him, so he let him. And I, of course, was seething with jealousy, so.” His face splits into a grin again and Shoyo laughs already.
“What?”
“I saw Samu sneak in a can of cola into his backpack. I knew he wanted to offer it to Aran-kun when it would get hot to be the guy he’d be grateful to for quenching his thirst with the right drink or something, I dunno.”
Shoyo’s face hurts from smiling so hard. “I get it though, that’s how I made friends, too.”
“Well. I was sitting behind them and got my hands onto that can without Samu noticing it and shook it like my arms were on fire.”
Shoyo is already groaning, already predicting the end.
Atsumu nods, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes and holding his cheeks to stop laughing. “Samu opened it and it exploded . It went everywhere . On poor Aran-kun, of course, on the window, on the ceiling of the bus, on me, despite taking cover as best as I could,” he shakes his head. “It was magnificent. Wish someone had filmed it.”
“And then?”
Tsumu snorts. “Samu, of course, knew I had something to do with it –but that might’ve also been because I couldn’t stop laughing–”
“Yeah. That would do it.”
“–and then we started beating the shit out of each other,” he shrugs. “Same old same old,” he pauses thoughtfully, “I think that might’ve been the day Aran-kun started desperately trying to keep his distance from us, though.”
Shoyo giggles, wiping his eyes. “Can’t blame him.”
“No,” he laughs. “Too bad for him he still couldn’t get completely rid of us.”
“Hmm,” Shoyo leans up and pecks him on the chin. “Thanks for the story.”
Tsumu kisses him back but on the lips, quick and light and teasing. “Anything for you.”
Shoyo hums, pulling him down for another, slower kiss. Tsumu is always so easy for him, even when he’s trying to work Shoyo up for a bit of delayed gratification. It makes Shoyo’s heart beat a little faster every time he’s faced with it. His boyfriend really can hardly deny him anything and even when he has to, Shoyo isn’t sure who’s hurt from it the most.
And because kissing his boyfriend is all he wants to do right now, that’s what they do.
Laundry happily forgotten for minutes.
Tens of them.
And then hours when waistbands gets shoved down and hands and fingers sneak deep and deeper until gasps gets pressed into each other’s tongues and a pile of Atsumu’s t-shirts gets knocked over by Shoyo’s orgasm-heavy kick.
Shoyo blows a raspberry, surveying the mess but can’t make himself regret it. Tsumu kisses his temple and together they get cleaned up and changed into new sweatpants they pluck directly out the laundry mountain.
They settle back down, still with Shoyo sitting sideways between Tsumu’s legs, his thighs on top and across Tsumu’s left leg as they both start folding.
Shoyo tells him a story of when Natsu was a baby in exchange for the exploding cola one and Tsumu grins, coos and shakes his head. His eyes are bright, body loose and happy, relaxed in this pocket of time shared just with him.
He remembers being scared of losing this to time and distance. The fear isn’t exactly gone, but it doesn’t cut as deep when he’s had two years of Tsumu keeping his promise with easy devotion.
The suitcase in the corner reminds him that he’ll still have to leave and that being away and missing him will still suck.
But for now, he won’t think about that.
He’ll linger in these moments and collect them as treasure to look at later, knowing that Atsumu is doing the same.
And it’s enough.
For now, it’s enough.