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Kiyoomi is inexplicably drained. The bitter wind clawed at his cheeks, as he tightened his scarf with a grimace, already resenting the world for being this cold. It’s been like this for two weeks now, and to be frank— he was tired of it.
He had never liked the cold, harsh winds biting at the tip of his nose as he sniffled. That… was never something he appreciated. He was a difficult kid. Too withdrawn, too strange, too panicky.
Sometimes, he wondered if the cold brought that part of him back—cracked it open like frost on glass, letting old discomfort seep through. The kind that made his chest feel tight and his jaw clench without reason.
And now— as he walked to the cafe, hands buried deep in his coat pockets—he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was unraveling a little with every step. But besides every thought scrambling his head, the thought of the café—warm, quiet, predictable—was enough to keep his feet moving. He wasn’t excited, exactly, but he’d take a hot drink and silence over the freezing wind any day.
The bell above the door jingled, the noise far too cheery for how cold Kiyoomi felt. He stepped inside stiffly, the sudden shift in temperature making his nose sting, and stood in line, if it could even be called that. It was empty, just him and the guy behind the counter, who was lazily wiping down the espresso machine like the snowstorm outside didn’t exist.
Kiyoomi glanced at the chalkboard menu like he hadn’t already memorized it weeks ago, just to stall. His hands were still half-numb as he reached into his coat pocket—right side, then left, then back again.
His brows twitched.
No wallet.
Atsumu noticed the hesitation, the brief flicker of panic that crossed the guy’s face before it was shoved right back down. He’d been watching since the door opened—kind of hard not to, considering how miserable he looked when he walked in. Like the cold had been gnawing at him all morning.
He leaned forward on the counter, feigning interest in a muffin placed carefully in the display case. "You were just about to order, weren’t ya?" he said, voice casual. "Didn’t take ya fer’ someone who comes all this way just ta’ stand around."
Kiyoomi’s mouth opened, then closed. His eyes dropped to the floor, then to the empty space where his wallet should’ve been.
“I forgot something,” he said flatly.
Atsumu hummed like he was thinking, then tapped the side of the register. "Guess it’d be kinda tragic if ya came all this way in the middle of a snowstorm n’ left empty-handed, huh?" He already had the cup in his hand. "Tell me yer’ order. I’ve got it."
Kiyoomi stared at him, skeptical, like this might be a prank or some kind of elaborate trap. Always too skeptical. But Atsumu just grinned, easy and unapologetic, like this wasn’t a big deal.
"Unless yer’ planning on just standing there and freezing all over my floor."
Kiyoomi stared for a second longer, then shifted his weight, jaw tight. "Hot chocolate," he muttered. “Medium.”
Atsumu raised an eyebrow, but said nothing—though he’d pegged him for a black coffee kind of guy, maybe something bitter and dramatic. Hot chocolate was... oddly specific. Kinda soft. He liked that more than he should’ve.
“Comin’ right up,” he said, turning to the machine with the kind of ease that only came from way too many hours behind the counter.
Kiyoomi stayed where he was, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere near the sugar packets like they might explode if he looked away.
Atsumu worked in comfortable silence, steam rising from the milk pitcher and soft clinks echoing as he stirred in cocoa powder. It wasn’t fancy, but it was warm and real and smelled vaguely like childhood.
“You do this for everyone?” Kiyoomi asked after a beat, his tone dry but not sharp. More like… curious, if you knew how to listen.
Atsumu glanced over his shoulder, lips twitching. “Only the ones who look like they’re five minutes away from losin’ a fight with the weather.”
Kiyoomi didn’t smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched—barely. “I’m not.”
“Sure yer’ not,” Atsumu said, sliding the cup across the counter. Their fingers didn’t touch, but they were close. “But just in case, this one’s on me. No tragic blizzard stories on my watch.”
Kiyoomi took the cup slowly, like he wasn’t quite convinced it was real.
“…Thanks,” he said after a moment, voice quiet. Almost reluctant, like the word had to fight its way out.
Atsumu just nodded, already pretending to clean something that didn’t need cleaning. “Anytime.”
He didn’t mean it to sound like a promise. But somehow, it did.
Kiyoomi stood there for a moment, the warmth of the cup seeping into his frozen fingers, almost enough to make him forget about the cold that still clung to his bones. The feeling of it in his hands was comforting, but it didn’t quite erase the weird, tight knot in his chest that hadn’t loosened since he walked in.
He glanced back at Atsumu, who was busy rearranging napkins on the counter, looking entirely too content with his task. The whole thing felt... casual. Too casual.
Kiyoomi shifted on his feet. "Are you sure you don’t want me to pay you back?" He hated the thought of leaving the café with nothing but a free drink hanging over him like an obligation.
Atsumu looked up, somewhat taken aback, and shrugged lazily, a smile playing on his lips. "Nah. Not everything's about money, ya know." He paused, his eyes narrowing just a little. "Besides, it's a good reason for ya to come back next time." He didn’t sound like he was expecting Kiyoomi to argue, and he definitely didn’t sound like he was trying to make a point. He just said it.
Kiyoomi didn’t know how to respond to that. His throat tightened again, and the words stuck. Instead, he nodded once, gruffly, like he’d made some kind of silent agreement with himself.
He took a step back, turning toward the door, but then stopped, his hand gripping the handle. “I’ll... I’ll be back,” he said, not quite making eye contact, but something in his voice made it sound like he might actually mean it.
Atsumu didn’t reply right away, but there was a moment where he didn’t look like he was just humoring a customer. He looked almost... pleased? Maybe a little curious, too. But then he was back to that same laid-back smirk as if nothing had changed.
“Don’t take too long,” he called out just as Kiyoomi stepped outside. “I’ll be waiting.”
Kiyoomi’s heart gave an unexpected, uncomfortable skip at that. The door swung shut behind him with a soft jingle, and he stood there on the snowy sidewalk for a second longer than he probably should’ve, staring at the now-closed door like there was something he’d forgotten to say.
But when he turned away, the heat from the drink in his hands was enough to pull him back into the present, enough to keep his thoughts from wandering too far.
It was just a hot chocolate. Nothing more.
Kiyoomi didn’t really know why he lingered outside the café for so long. The snow was heavier now, clinging to his hair, the world already blurring into the kind of gray that made everything feel distant. But still, he stayed.
Maybe it was the drink in his hands—the warmth slowly seeping into him, starting at his frozen fingers and spreading down his arms, making him realize just how cold he’d actually been. Or maybe it was the strange weight of the interaction that he couldn’t shake off, like the simple act of someone offering something without an expectation attached to it had unsettled something deep inside him. He hated that feeling, the way it made him think too much about things he’d rather not.
But it was just a hot chocolate, he reminded himself again, tightening his grip on the cup. Just a drink.
Still, he found himself walking back the next day. And the day after that.
Each time he walked into the café, the same routine played out, Atsumu— he’d been asked to call him by his first name. As his family name reminded him too much of his twin brother— greeted him with that easy grin, a joke about the weather or the fact that Kiyoomi never seemed to bring the right amount of change, and he’d make the hot chocolate without asking questions. Kiyoomi never brought it up, but the thought of offering to pay him back didn’t seem to fit somehow. Atsumu didn’t seem like the kind of guy who cared about things like that, and it made Kiyoomi feel strangely... lighter, each time he left.
It was the little things, like the way Atsumu would never let him stand in line too long, always waving him over when the café was slow, or the way he’d toss him a napkin with a smirk when he made some halfhearted comment about the snow. Kiyoomi didn’t say much. He didn’t need to. The space between them felt comfortable, like it was just a series of short interactions, nothing too personal, but just enough to make them feel familiar.
But today was different.
The usual greeting from Atsumu was there, a sharp, teasing remark about the snow—“Thought ya might be trying to freeze to death out there, Omi,” he had said with that same casual, knowing grin. Kiyoomi didn’t mind. He was used to it by now. But when he stepped up to the counter, Atsumu didn’t immediately start making his drink. Instead, he leaned over the counter, his eyes a little more intense than usual, and his voice quieter.
“Ya’ okay?” Atsumu asked, his tone shifting, just slightly. “Ya’ look like yer’ about ta’ fall asleep standing up.”
Kiyoomi blinked, caught off guard. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been tired lately—school, practice, everything piled up on him, but to hear it coming from Atsumu, who barely knew anything about him, threw him off.
“I’m fine,” Kiyoomi muttered, his voice hoarse. He tried to push past it, like it was nothing. “Just... didn’t sleep well.”
Atsumu didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t press the matter further. Instead, he just nodded, eyes flicking briefly to Kiyoomi’s face, and then back down to the counter.
“Well, if ya say so. Hot chocolate, right?”
Kiyoomi nodded, grateful for the easy shift back to normalcy, but there was something about the way Atsumu was looking at him now—more like he was seeing him, really seeing him—that made the air between them feel a little different. A little charged, like there was something unspoken, hanging in the space between them.
As Atsumu prepared the drink, Kiyoomi’s mind kept wandering. It wasn’t like he had never been noticed before. He’d had teammates, friends, acquaintances—people who knew who he was. But no one had really seen him the way Atsumu did. Maybe it was because Atsumu didn’t care enough to ask questions, or maybe it was because he didn’t have an agenda. He just... didn’t make Kiyoomi feel like an inconvenience. Didn’t make him feel like an outsider.
“Here ya’ go,” Atsumu said, handing the cup over with a small smile. But this time, his gaze lingered, just a little too long. “Don’t stay out too long, okay? I’d hate to see you freeze before I get to see ya’ again.”
Kiyoomi blinked, taken aback by the shift in tone. Atsumu was being a little too... real.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Kiyoomi felt that familiar tightness in his chest, that sensation he had grown so accustomed to, the one that made him want to shrug it all off and walk out. But this time, he didn’t. Instead, he found himself looking up at Atsumu, his eyes meeting his for just a moment longer than usual.
"...Thanks," Kiyoomi said quietly, his voice almost unrecognizable to him. It felt like a different version of himself was speaking, someone who wasn’t afraid to let the words slip out, just for once.
Atsumu smiled again, the same lazy, half-teasing grin, but there was a warmth to it that felt a little different this time. “No problem. I’ll see ya around, Omi.”
Kiyoomi nodded, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t hurry out of the café. He stood there for a moment, letting the warmth from the drink fill him up and the light hum of the café settle around him. It was a small moment, but it was enough.
It had been a long time since anything had felt... like it might be enough.