Chapter Text
Young Kiyoomi was never one to have a crush; there was visible discomfort on his face every time a couple kissed in the hallway, or when he was interrogated by his parents on when he was planning to get a girlfriend. Each time he was asked he brushed it off with an inconclusive response, entertaining the topic would only worsen the gruelling conversation.
It was especially worse around Valentine's day; Kiyoomi swore that his repulsion to the lovey-dovey chatter of couples swooning over eachother just meant that he wasn't meant for this lifestyle. A domestic life spent with another seemed exhausting, a space you share constantly with someone else? He couldn't see how a person would view that as a fulfilling life, his social battery definitely wouldn't feel fulfilled.
It wasn't as if Kiyoomi was a shut in - he was perfectly capable of keeping conversations flowing, of socialising, but there's a limit to everything. That was until Kiyoomi found someone that pushed those limits.
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The first word that Kiyoomi thinks of in association to Miya Atsumu is 'insufferable.'
His confidence almost seemed like arrogance at times, don't get him started on the multiple fangirls that scream Atsumus name at each game. Even from the court, the squealing could be heard from the crowds above; it drove Kiyoomi insane. It was completely unnecessary, the man was good at volleyball, sure! He was extremely good, even Kiyoomi was willing to admit it. But did that warrant ear piercing screams each time he let out a breath? No. It didn't.
Atsumu wasn't any better, yelling at his brother every chance he got. The twins bickering echoed in the gymnasium, although it was clearly a sign of how close of a relationship they had. The Miya twins were truly a force to be reckoned with - dealing with those two proved to be difficult, but if you saw them outside the court? Kiyoomi was glad he kept headphones on his person at all times.
That was until the training camp came along.
He had recognised the Kansai dialect ringing through the hall, and in an instant he began to prepare for a constant headache. Miya Atsumu was here, and he would be forced to be with this man for hours on end. His headphones couldn't save him this time. It wasn't as if Kiyoomi hated Atsumu, but it was clear that there was a huge difference between the two.
One being that Kiyoomi was averse to physical touch - while Atsumu seemed to be the embodiment of it. During the camp, a point scored meant he let out a cheer that would be followed by the sound of a double high-five. Kiyoomi swore that Atsumu had equal contact between the ball and his teammates.
When it came to Kiyoomi, he commended his teammates with a firm nod and moved on; isn't it unnecessary to perform an entire dance? Atsumu did everything with pure enthusiasm. It was clear how passionate he was about the sport, the quality of his technique and communication was something that could be gained through hard work. But even with the same fervor Atsumu held, Kiyoomi expressed his feelings through his play, not through the interactions he had with his teammates. With how busy his family was, Kiyoomi spent much of his time alone - or with Komori. He'd be practicing more often than not, spiking a ball off the ground hundreds of times. He cared about the details, the little things that could enhance his skills. He was considered one of the top three aces in the country for a reason.
He and Atsumu were different, and the latter didn't seem to care.
"Omi-kun! What're ya frowning for? Ya scored the point!" Atsumu slapped Kiyoomi on the back, earning a glare from the spiker.
"Your set was off, Miya. Focus on the game, not analysing my facial expression." He retorted, but for some reason there was a change in Atsumus face. His confident demeanour seemed to waver for a split second - a slight flush in his cheeks appearing.
" 'm not analysing yer face! Sorry fer tryin' to cheer up my spiker!"
pang!
Kiyoomi felt his heart skip a beat. What was that? His eyes darted up to the spiker, who has returned to his position, preparing to continue the match. His spiker? The phrasing wasn't special; it was a totally common way to say it! He's heard his captain call him that more times than he could count on his hands, but it was different. But different how? He didn't know.
The game continued as if nothing happened; Kiyoomi was on top of his game as usual, but his mind was shaken from the earlier event. The feeling was unfamiliar to him - it was scary. Suddenly he was analysing each interaction with Atsumu - was there a secret meaning? What made him choose those words? Then came the physical observations - did he look strange? Did he do something to make Atsumu look at him with such- admiration? Wait, hold on. Admiration?
It was true, Atsumu looked at him as if he was the only thing in the world; his eyes full of fondness, somehow filled with excitement and giddiness. But Kiyoomi didn't understand - in the past he had felt such repulsion towards this man, so why was he searching for something greater in his eyes? Surely Atsumu was just feeling the thrill of playing with him, again, he was one of the top aces in the country! They've played against eachother a multitude of times - he knows his skill, and vice versa. If that was the truth, then why did it feel like so much more?