Archive of Our Own

Have you ever had your sibling–twin, no less– call you and basically flip you off? Probably not. Atsumu thought he would be a part of the majority, but knowing his twin seemed to do nothing but screw him over, because little did Atsumu know, he was about to get the best call of his life.

He ambled down the sidewalk, right at the block where he turned to his apartment building. It was a routine, to walk back and forth from practice, take a steamy shower, eat dinner, and hit the sack. So as soon as he pried open his door, his back pocket started making lawn mower sounds.

He would’ve hung up, he could’ve, but he didn’t–he wished he had. However, doing that would only elicit pettiness from his annoying twin brother, Osamu. That would mean unnecessary attacks on his character whenever they saw each other again.

“Hey ‘Tsumu.” Osamu’s voice came from the speaker. He was talking cautiously, like he was about to tell him something grave, and for future reference, he did just that.

Atsumu didn’t really have the energy for this right now, having just failed 4 jump floater serves, missed 3 tosses, then got told off by his perfectionist outside-hitter teammate after practice—Kiyoomi Sakusa— and his coach; it’s safe to say that he wasn’t in the mood.

“Whaddya want, ya scrub, I’m–” but before he could grumble anything else, he was hit with–

“I’m gonna take Rin to ma’s wedding.” Osamu might as well have dropped a bucket of ice on a sleeping Atsumu, because he would never have expected that to come out of his mouth.

You see, for starters, Osamu Miya and Rintaro Suna’s relationship has always been ambiguous. They played it dangerously; each of them always teetered on the edge of ‘friends’ and ‘lovers.’ They were constantly together– sharing a phone, giggling about something, long-lasting touches that stayed for a little too long, and they were always in each other’s space. However, no matter what or how Atsumu told his dense, idiot of a brother, Osamu would always deny any hidden feelings between him and his best friend.

Now when standing in Atsumu’s shoes, this is wild– it’s like watching pigs fly. It seemed impossible for them to get together so quickly—Atsumu thought it would’ve taken them another year to confess.

On top of that, he was taking him to their mother’s wedding, which wasn’t surprising, because if he hadn’t, Rintaro would’ve been invited anyway, but was crazier that he was bringing him. That didn’t mean he was invited–even though he was– that meant he was going as a plus one.

In other words, he was going to make Atsumu look like a total loser. He would go looking like a lonely single guy while his brother, who was unknowingly pining for someone for half his life, gets to bring his partner. How cruel is that?

“So, what you're saying is, you finally asked him out after years pining after him, and now you’re gonna leave me to be all alone at ma’s wedding?” Atsumu inquired, but he knew the answer. Osamu would leave him in a heartbeat, no questions asked, zero hesitation.

“Yeah, kinda.” He replied. The sound of running water echoed from his speaker. Probably the kitchen in his restaurant.

“Okay, well curse ya then. Have fun sucking face with Rin, while your older brother gets to cry in his room all night long about being lonely.” Atsumu scoffs.

“You’re older than me by 2 minutes–” and there goes the line.

Atsumu kicked open his apartment door, even more irked than he was before. His mother’s wedding was happening in half a year. That wasn’t much time to pick someone out and bring them to something this important. Anyway, his mother would probably be able to tell if he brought someone he didn’t like.

This sucks. Atsumu thought as he threw his clothes into the hamper next to his closet. Most of the time he made it in, but because his mind was already occupied, his shirt flew to the right of the bin, missing it by a long shot.

He grabbed a towel and trudged into his messy bathroom and hopped in the shower. Even though it would skyrocket his water bill, he made the decision to stay in the shower for 40 minutes, and luckily it proved helpful. Maybe, the extra hundred bucks would be worth it.

His shoulders relaxed, and the knot in his back loosened. He didn’t feel like a trainwreck anymore, he felt more like a hit-and-run. After he cleaned up the mess on the kitchen counter, Atsumu made his daily meal. A good ol’ bowl of rice with salmon and eggs. It never did him dirty.

Obviously, the situation doesn’t seem too bad, but to Atsumu, it was the worst possible thing to happen. Him and his brother were always competing, whether he was racing to see who got to the edge of the parking lot quicker, or racing to eat their lunch quicker. They were always versing each other. So, if Osamu got a boyfriend quicker than Atsumu, that would basically mean he won, and Atsumu lost. The least he could do was also bring someone to his mother’s wedding.

After his meal, he went straight to bed. As a professional volleyball player, the need for a perfect sleep schedule was great. However, sleep didn’t come.

Obviously, he was happy–no, elated– for them. If you asked the deepest depths of Atsumu’s heart, it would reveal that he was always rooting for them. He supported his brother unconditionally, and that included his relationship with his best friend. Though, he didn’t want them to get together before he did.

However, that wasn’t what he was worried about. Right now, he needs to find someone who wouldn’t blow his cover, and while this wasn’t hard–Atsumu had many friends outside of Rintaro and his brother– he didn’t really know who to ask. Turns out, almost all his friends are in healthy and happy relationships, and he’s pretty sure their partners wouldn’t want them to go to a wedding with little ol’ Atsumu.

Trying to recalibrate, Atsumu immersed himself farther into his bedsheets. He used one arm and a leg to throw more of his blanket onto himself; he wrapped himself up in the warmth of the fabric and wrapped himself into his own thoughts.

Here’s his exact thought process. When his brain thinks of friends, he thinks of his high school friends. Sadly, they are all hours away, which wouldn’t be good for potential planning in case something comes up—a great example: his mother asking to meet them before her wedding. Ruling all of them out, he’s left with his current teammates. Unfortunately, most of them are dating—let alone married—, so he needs someone with a few specific qualities.

First of all, he needs a good liar. No one will believe him if he turns up with someone who can’t keep a straight face for 3 minutes. Atsumu would only get even more embarrassed if it’s revealed that he got a whole fake-significant other just to one-up his brother. Second, they need to be in his area. This will be great for last-minute plans. For instance, he’ll need to come up with fake-but-real sounding stories in order to escape the grasp of his nosy family members. Calls won't cut it, he needs face-to-face talking. Third, they need to be single, or at least have their partner agree to the arrangement.

Any regular person would drop it and go to sleep, but Atsumu is nothing if he wasn’t ambitious and stupid. So he grabs his phone on his dark wood bedside table and powered it on. The brightness of his lockscreen blinded him, and the faces of his friends greeted him like a slap. After recovering from the flashbang, he unlocks his phone and goes straight to his message app.

He clicked on the group chat labeled, ‘MSBY BLACK JACKALS!!’ The group chat was originally made to aid communication between his team, but now it’s used like any other group chat. Even at everyone’s supposed sleeptime, messages came in like clockwork.

There, he sent everyone a message saying:

In need of a fake boyfriend. Anyone offering?

Of course, some people responded. However, none of them were willing, they only asked about it. Which is reasonable, but Atsumu didn’t think he had the energy to explain everything right now. He shut off his phone and silenced it. He placed it back onto the nightstand, and continued to curl in his massive blankets, and finally, he dozed into slumber.

When Atsumu rose, he was bathed in sunlight. His curtains weren’t ever closed, and he liked it that way. It reminded him of his sun-soaked days as a child.

Atsumu would have to admit, he was quite nervous. He knows his teammates are as weird as him, but he’s not quite sure if they’d respond how he would hope for. He kicked off his white comforter, and then removed the extra blankets underneath. Atsumu jumped off the side of his bed, and walked towards his bathroom.

He swung the door open, and looked back at himself in the mirror; his eyes were inching closed, and his hair was all messed up and leaning towards one side of his head. His bathroom was relatively clean, the soaps were always put in the same spot, and his facial cleansers and moisturizers sat on his sink counter. His khaki shower curtains were pushed to the side, revealing the off-white tiles.

When he got out, he glanced at the clock. It was 6 AM, just 3 hours and a half before his practice started, which is when he usually woke up. However, when he attempted to change, he fumbled with the dresser’s handles and tossed some clothes around, trying to find his favorite shorts. Maybe it was his anxiety, or maybe it was the hour less of sleep he got, but he continued to trip over the hem of his clothing. His head got stuck in the t-shirt’s arm hole, and then he almost ripped the seams of his shorts after putting it on the wrong way.

When he finally finished changing, Atsumu headed for his kitchen to prepare an easy lunch for practice. While he was waiting for his egg to finish cooking, he almost dropped the egg carton while putting it back. The egg was seasoned with salt—he almost grabbed the sugar— and pepper, embellished with chopped-up chives and pieces of potato. He tipped the pan over his container of rice, and watched as the egg slid into place— not without struggle.

Once he cleaned up his space, Atsumu washed his hands and strode to his shoes. Slipping them on and opening his door. He was going to go on his morning run.

He was welcomed by a row of doors, some of them belonged to one of his teammates. However, Atsumu only knew a couple of people who got up around this time— he and his team once had a debate about this, which ended with a petty fight between him and his teammate, Kiyoomi Sakusa.

Thinking of his teammates, he thought of his text message he sent the night before. So like any normal person would—Atsumu is constantly in denial— he opens the chat up. However, he didn’t know what he was expecting, because the chat was only filled with an array of question marks and ‘why’s’. There wasn’t a single “yes,” or “sure,” to be seen.

I’ll just talk to them at practice. Atsumu concluded. What’s so wrong about his message?

Okay, who is he kidding? There are so many things wrong with his message. If he were being honest, Atsumu knew that there were so many red flags that came with his message. I mean, a fake-boyfriend? Come on. If Atsumu got that same text, he would probably clown the sender and take a screenshot of the message to use it as blackmail. However, just because he would do the same— if not worse— as everyone else in the situation, doesn’t make it less troublesome.

Atsumu clicked the sticky buttons on the elevator and waited for it to come to his floor. While he was waiting, he thought about his mother’s wedding.

It was going to happen in three months near the countryside where Atsumu grew up, in a beautiful wedding venue with lush, green scenery. His mother always talked about how much she loved the feeling of the outdoors. In her words, nature is freedom. A week for the celebration made sense, and especially when his parents had never invested money or time into getting married in a church until now. When Atsumu asked them about it, all his father said was they needed to focus on their precious children—when Atsumu heard that, his heart flooded with warmth. He needed to make this perfect.

Atsumu wanted the best for his mother. If she fell in love with his fake-date, he might as well fall too.

Before Atsumu could dwell on that, the doors of the elevator opened. He went inside and clicked the close button. The space was small and reeked of lemon and chemicals; it’s evident that it had been cleaned only a couple of hours ago. `

He clicked the star button at the bottom of the panel, and tapped his foot while waiting for the lift to go to the first floor.

When he got out of the elevator, he headed for the doors, ready to face the sunshine. He opened the doorway to the outside.

The weather was a mixture of cool and sunny. Atsumu took his walks at the edge of dawn and beginning of morning; when the sun rises and smiles. The feelings of midnight’s dust turning into one with the beams of sunshine. It calmed him down. Getting him ready for another day.

Atsumu jogged down his block, warming up for his one hour run. He knew his warmup was over when he passed the grocery store he shops at.

He didn’t really know what to think about right now. His head was swimming in thoughts but drowning in emptiness at the same time. What if he brought someone to the wedding, and it’s revealed that they don’t really love each other at all? He could imagine his mothers face: disappointed eyes, a frown, and the crease of her forehead. Then would come the, “Disappointed but not surprised. Do you always have to compete with your brother?” Sorry mom, but he pretty much has to. What’s ‘family’ without a little feuding? The word family was probably written on his skin and down to his very bones. Some other words, too.

Maybe he was jealous. Maybe he can’t handle the thought of him being lonely? Atsumu shook off the thought. He wasn’t lonely. He just wanted to see the look on his brother’s face after he told him that he has a special someone as well.

Atsumu passed the grocery store. He switched his pace from jogging to running. His feet set a solid tune, constantly touching and pushing off the ground. The sky was a beautiful baby blue, and birds sang melodies to pass the time.

He loved running. The sound of his feet hitting the floor. The feeling of his calves and heart burning. The way his arms swayed—following his feet and swaying to rhythm.

Okay, maybe Atsumu was a little jealous. He never really had someone like Osamu had Rintaro. He always had them both, and his mom, and all his other friends, but none of them counted, obviously.

By the time Atsumu was done sulking and wallowing in self pity. He had reached back to the apartments. Atsumu took out his phone and glanced at the time, it was 7:15. The birds halted their singing, but the sun wasn’t any less ruthless.

Atsumu walked into the building and to his room, this time opting for the stairs instead of the elevator. Around this time, people would be heading to their own errands, so the lift would be crowded—it’s not Atsumu’s ideal situation, considering that he was sweaty and stinky.

He opened the door to his apartment and walked to the shower and turned on the faucets. His shower lasted for an approximate 15 minutes—half of the time he took yesterday. Atsumu got out of the shower and dressed up in different clothing. The tee shirt he wore had a decal of a fox, and his shorts stopped right in the middle of his thighs.

Atsumu got ready for his day. The apartment filled with the pattern of thumping and creaking of the wooden floor. He did everything he needed to; brushed his teeth, washed his face, and scrolled through his phone to pass the time.

When it was 9:10, Atsumu headed out of his apartment building and strolled to the gymnasium. He reached the building, and was greeted by the smiles or nods of his teammates.

Most of them were there, some of them stretching, or warming up with some drills. Atsumu sped up and jogged to the locker room to change into his sports attire.

Now clad in volleyball shorts and a different T-shirt, Atsumu came over to his teammates.

A voice came from his right—it belonged to his teammate and close friend, Shoyo Hinata. His bright orange hair and short-but-built frame spawned into view.

“So, Atsumu, what’s up with your latest text?” Shoyo inquired. If he were anyone else, he would believe that Shoyo was trying to grate on his nerves, but Shoyo was asking out of pure curiosity. Who could blame him anyway? The text was laced with mysteriousness, and was so vague that it could be compared to his middle school situationship.

“Ehh, it’s a long story, Shoyo. We’d be here the whole practice if I told you.” Atsumu laughed it off, flipping his hand at Shoyo’s face.

“No seriously, what’s up?” Shoyo questioned once again. Maybe it was Atsumu acting up again, but he could tell that this wasn’t going to end well. Shoyo usually left things at a, “Okay.” He never prodded at people; unless he had a good-maybe-bad reason, something had to be up his sleeve.

As soon as Atsumu was about to reply, a salt-and-pepper haired man caught wind of their conversation, and popped up next to Shoyo in a heartbeat. His name was Koutarou Bokuto. He was only an inch taller than Atsumu, but his biceps were way more chiseled than his.

“Oh hey! Are we talking about Tsum-tsum’s ominous message?” Bokuto lightly teased, he made a gesture with his hands and his eyebrows wiggled. Atsumu recognized that look; It’s the face he gave at anything slightly flirty he did—and he Astumu had done a lot of flirty things.

”Yup, and Atsumu, we both want to know what it means.” Shoyo cheekily smiled at Atsumu, and he wiggled his eyebrows, trying to imitate Koutarou. The duo stared at Atsumu longingly, trying to fish out the answer through puppy eyes. Atsumu caved.

”Welp, long story short, Osamu is going to bring Rin to ma’s wedding, and I need someone to go with. Just to one-up my brother.” Atsumu proudly grinned. Maybe it wasn’t the best thing to be prideful about, but Atsumu couldn’t care less, as long as it meant trolling his brother.

Shoyo and Koutarou looked at each other, probably trying to gauge if Atsumu was being genuine. Though, Atsumu knew that they both knew the answer. He would do anything to try and rile up his brother. However, instead of sighing and wishing Atsumu luck on his hunt, Shoyo looked like he was hit with an idea.

Shoyo grabbed Koutarou’s arm and dragged him into a corner where nobody was near. He got on his tippy-toes and whispered something into the other man’s ear.

Before Atsumu could breathe in their dust, he was called over by a low and commanding voice, which belonged to his coach, Samson Foster. The gut feeling returned, but twice as strong.

By the demand of his coach, Atsumu started on his own warm-ups and practice. He only had around 5 minutes until practice actually began—which is probably why his coach called him over—, so Atsumu milked the 5 minutes to his full capacity. He was careful, not trying to pull another muscle; last time Atsumu spent too long chatting and rushed his stretches, he pulled his muscle in his thigh and got benched for weeks.

Practice flew by; everyone settled into the chaotic-yet-familiar feeling of their team. Atsumu’s muscles throbbed for the second time that day, and Atsumu couldn’t be any more content. The feel of your body tingling all over, your heart working overtime. It all felt so fond to Atsumu, having done this a million times before.

The chat with Shoyo and Koutarou still lingered at the back of Atsumu’s mind. His cheeky smile, the lightbulb in his head, the dragging of Koutarou’s hand. He needed to know what he was up to, before the bad feelings manifested and Atsumu started vomiting again—yes, this had happened to him last time he endured something similar.

Some of his other teammates—Adriah, Inunaki, Meian, Barnes— asked about the text, but when hit with the answer, wished him good luck. Atsumu was relieved for his teammates' passiveness, probably because they didn’t know him as well as Shoyo and Koutarou did. Well, to be frank, they probably had no words for Atsumu’s antics anyway.

As everyone shuffled inside the locker rooms, chugged their water bottles and exchanged compliments on today’s gameplay, Atsumu was confronted by Shoyo, again.

”So, Atsumu, you need a bogus date, right?” Shoyo’s bright expression and sugary words all screamed neon red lights in Atsumu’s head, but he still responded.

”Yeah, whaddya need, Sho?” Atsumu capped his water and placed it next to his gym bag.

“Well, me and Koutarou have the perfect match for you!” He squealed. Shoyo’s giddiness scared Atsumu, because he had no idea what he was planning.

“The floor is yours, Sho” Atsumu’s hands brushed through his bleached blond hair—Osamu constantly tells him it’s yellow, Atsumu rejects that idea—, an immediate sign for his uncertainty. However, he knew no matter what, Shoyo would ignore his reluctance and tell him anyway. At least Atsumu wouldn’t have that uneasy feeling settled in his stomach.

”Okay, well, before I tell you anything, do you have any specific rules for this fake-date?” Shoyo straightened up and looked right into Atsumu’s eyes. He was being particularly hard to decipher.

“Uhm, well, I just need a good liar that’s close by. Overall, that’s it.” His hands moved from his hair to the back of his neck. Scratching there instead of at his scalp.

Shoyo grinned, Atsumu grimaced.

”So, have you considered any of us yet?” The orange-haired man questioned, rocking back and forth on his heels. At the back of Atsumu’s brain, he could literally feel it exploding with alarm sounds. He’s never seen Shoyo act so mysterious.

“I have… Where is this conversation going, Shoyo?” The air was tense, even the conversations between his teammates calmed. If this were a cartoon, then the eyes of everyone in the room would be stretched out of their sockets and right next to Atsumu.

“Have you considered Kiyoomi?” Atsumu choked on his saliva, and the room was drenched in stillness— the silence was very, very loud.

“Huh?” Is everything Atsumu could muster up.

Out of everyone, why would Atsumu consider Kiyoomi Sakusa?

A million different questions materialized into Atsumu’s mind. Kiyoomi—referred to as ‘Omi’, courtesy of Atsumu— was well-known for being a control-freak, grumpy, and blunt. Honestly, the thought of asking Kiyoomi for a favor as trivial was already far-fetched. As that would probably earn him a dirty look, and a rude, “no thank you.” Then, he would be subjected to years of teasing and scowls— as if he doesn’t already go through that.

If anything, Kiyoomi would probably be his last choice— besides going by himself, that was a no-go. Anyway, why would Shoyo even subject anything so cynical? He knew Shoyo liked to joke around, but he always recognized him as a sensible person. On top of that, he knew that he and Kiyoomi weren’t that close. I mean, as teammates and somewhat acquaintances, they never really interacted outside of volleyball related-reasons. On top of that, Atsumu was sure Kiyoomi disliked him to his core. They’d always throw insults at each other and pester one another. Kiyoomi and Atsumu weren’t nearly as close for him to waddle up with his sob-story and ask for something as outlandish as that.

The tension was palpable; no one dared to say anything. Until a low and gravelly voice came from behind Shoyo. It belonged to Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi was 2 inches taller than Atsumu, and he had well taken care of inky curls that draped over half his forehead. There were two moles dabbed on the top of his eyebrow. His eyes were dark and soul-sucking. He always had an indifferent expression or a scowl plastered on his face— Atsumu could count on one hand how many times he’d seen him laugh or smile. If he wasn’t rocking the facial expression of a sociopath, he’d be clad in a black surgical face mask—which he wore everywhere but on a volleyball court. If Atsumu didn’t know any better, he’d mistake him for a younger grim reaper.

”What in the world are you suggesting?” It came out more as a accusation than a question, but Atsumu couldn’t blame Kiyoomi, he would probably say the exact same thing.

What made the situation even more awkward was that Kiyoomi had just finished showering. His hair was dripping water on the floor, and he was in the midst of putting on a shirt.

Before Atsumu could even do damage control, Shoyo opened his mouth again.

”Come on! Didn’t you mention that you also needed a fake date?” Shoyo there his hands up, like he’d just solved the hardest math equation. Instead, everyone stared at him, probably pleading for him to stop.

It was common knowledge that Kiyoomi never messed around with ‘dating’ or ‘love’. He was more of the lone-wolf type—at least that’s what Atsumu thought. Why would he need a faux-partner? Also, he barely knew the guy. What fool would go into a relationship— fake or not— with someone they had no knowledge of? Atsumu was dumb, but not simpleminded.

“Yes, I had, but why would I go with Atsumu?” Kiyoomi deadpanned. Though Atsumu could see it in his eyes, he looked like he was about to burst out laughing.

”But it’s convenient and efficient! You both need someone to play as your boyfriend. You both have each other, and don’t need to go looking. Anyway, don’t you love convenience and efficiency, Omi?” Hinata made a good point. If Atsumu knew anything about Kiyoomi, it would be that he loved efficiency and convenience. When it came to anything, he always preferred the most efficient version of every scenario. Atsumu was convinced Shoyo’s efforts were futile, though, there was no way—

“You know what, I guess that could work.” Kiyoomi had his ‘thinking’ face on. Atsumu classified that as one of his many 5 expressions. Number one, neutral. Number two, disgust. Number three, frustration. Then, the rest are faces Atsumu had only seen once or twice; there was sadness and an expression that made it look like Kiyoomi wasn’t constipated.

That knocked the wind right out of his lungs. How would that work? Atsumu doesn't even know if he’s a good liar. He doesn’t know the first thing about Kiyoomi. In which twisted universe would that happen?

Actually, it could perhaps happen in this twisted universe, because—despite what every bone and bacteria inside told him— he found himself contemplating it.

It might actually work. He’s close by, and if Shoyo thinks he’s a good liar—he’s not entirely sure if he should trust him, Shoyo’s judgement isn’t the exact best— then he should be adequate. Though, he doesn’t know about the whole dating thing. Does he even know how to hug someone? Every time anyone touches Kiyoomi, he looks like they’ve killed his family and cursed his entire bloodline. As if he’s thought of reproducing.

“So, what do you think, Atsumu? Do we have a deal?” Shoyo beamed at Atsumu. All smiley and sweet. However, he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with how Shoyo was acting. Atsumu always acknowledged Shoyo to be a big ball of sunshine, which no one even challenged, but he couldn’t help but feel like Shoyo planned this—not just the fake-boyfriend stuff, but something way deeper.

As for Kiyoomi, he didn’t actually think he would accept. If anything, he assumed that Kiyoomi would have ignored their shenanigans and stalked off to god-knows-where. Then he’d ghost everyone— like that’s really different, Kiyoomi wasn’t even active in the group chat, he only texted to confirm schedule changes.

“Sure?” It was more of a question than a statement. Atsumu’s voice was a little shaky, probably from the amount of shock he could feel in two days. Maybe he’ll have a heart attack in the middle of his apartment, and no one will ever know until they find his dead body a week later.

“Great! Now it’s settled. I’m going to take my shower now. You two figure your stuff out!” The orange haired man skipped out the door and into the communal bathroom. Atsumu raised an eyebrow as he watched Shoyo giggle through the door. What did he think he was playing, matchmaker?

After a small intermission of silence, the team returned to their respective conversations. Throwing—no, running over— the previous exchange.

Atsumu, however, did not return to his original self. He was currently shutting down. What did he just agree to? He didn’t know. He assumes one else knew either. I mean, why else did no one say anything? This all felt like a fever dream, or one of those dreams where you could control everything, but you still knew you were dreaming. Someone should pinch Atsumu right now.

He returned to his regular routine of winding-down from practice, yet none of this felt regular. His heart felt like it could burst at any second, and his head was straining from the amount of thinking he was doing. The comforting feeling of hopping in a hot shower didn’t feel comforting anymore. It felt scolding hot, even though nothing had changed. Or maybe everything had tilted on its axis, Atsumu couldn’t really tell.

However, when he saw a head of pitch-dark curls walk outside the gymnasium doors, he couldn’t help but speed up his movements. The air had changed, he could feel it. Atsumu didn’t even put on his shoes all the way before chasing towards a man already 50 feet ahead of him. He grabbed his black bag, and stuffed his phone in his pocket before sprinting all the way towards Kiyoomi.

If he didn’t have the speed and stamina of a professional volleyball player, he wouldn’t have caught up with him. Unfortunately, for everyone praying for his downfall—sorry, Osamu—, he yelled Kiyoomi’s name loud enough for him to pause and turn his head back, rather annoyed.

Atsumu came darting towards the stagnant Kiyoomi. He was forty feet away, then he was 30, then he was at 20. Then he picked up the pace once again and got to 3 feet away.

“Why’d you do it, Omi?” Atsumu puffed. Kiyoomi looked at him disinterested.

“Shoyo is right. It’s convenient and efficient. That’s why I did it.” Atsumu was stunned by the mere thought of Kiyoomi agreeing. No sounds came out either of them. They stayed stationary and had a makeshift staring contest—Atsumu did lose, he was too caught up in the idea that he continued blinking.

“If you have nothing else to say, I’ll be on my way.” Kiyoomi turned with his bag around his shoulder and strolled away, but before he could make any significant distance, Atsumu grabbed his wrist.

“Wait! You need to tell me what you need a fake-boyfriend for. I’m not accepting it unless I know what I’m in for.” Atsumu let go of his wrist and crossed his arms around his chest after Kiyoomi turned back around. He looked a tad bit more agitated.

“If I told you now, it would take too long. We pass my building on the way to yours. Let’s just walk and talk.” Kiyoomi’s irritated expression morphed into something of mockery. Atsumu couldn’t tell if it was aimed towards him or not.

Atsumu moved to the other side of Kiyoomi. The sky was still blue, but the sun was beginning to set. There was a lingering smell of dew and musk from the leftover days of spring. The weather was nice enough to not have to wear a jacket, but when the night began to slink closer, a light coat was recommended. The only noise was the sound of their own feet and the voices of birds.

Atsumu didn’t really know what to say. He’s also assuming that Kiyoomi didn’t know how to start the conversation either. It was awkward, to say the least. He caught the movement of Kiyoomi’s mouth. It opened, but closed soon after, never making a sound.

He surprised himself when he spoke first.

“So, uhm. Well, you probably already know why I need one… but I’ll still tell you.” Atsumu waited for Kiyoomi to protest; it never came. He continued to talk.

“Osamu came to me a day ago and told me about him and Rin—I’m assuming that you already know, because Rin is quite literally a gossip girl at heart— and now I’m all alone.” Atsumu continued.

“So what does that have to do with a fake-date?” Kiyoomi’s smug expression told Atsumu that he already knew why. He sighed.

“Just lemme finish. So anyway, now that Osamu is bringing someone, I gotta as well. Your turn.” Kiyoomi looked like he wanted to ask, but quickly chose to stay quiet.

“Okay, well. I need you for dinner with my family.” He said curtly. There was no explanation laced with the sentence. Unlike Kiyoomi, Atsumu would definitely ask.

“Why?” Atsumu questioned.

“I didn’t ask you any questions.” Kiyoomi responded.

“Yeah but that was yer choice.” Atsumu quipped.

They stayed silent for a moment. Both of them just looked at each other. Kiyoomi looked like he wanted to strangle Atsumu, while the blond’s face was plastered with a wide lopsided grin. Kiyoomi gave in and sighed.

“Alright, well. My family has been pressuring me to settle already… but I don’t want to. So this was probably my only option.” He concluded. Atsumu was at a loss for words. They were only in their 20s after all, and on top of that, they’re professional volleyball players. Who has time to date?

“Sheesh. That’s tough.” Atsumu replied.

They fell back into an awkward silence, but this time, they weren’t facing each other. The sky was mixing into an ombre, and the temperature dropped. It was cool and breezy, the perfect weather. Unfortunately, Atsumu wouldn't be able to spend it productively, because he was currently awkwardly walking home with his supposed-fake-boyfriend.

The gods finally pitied him, because Kiyoomi pointed to his apartment complex and walked—more like ran— to the front door. Atsumu didn’t even look back. He hurried away from the building as fast as he possibly could without looking like a weirdo. That was, no doubt, the most uncomfortable walk home, which is hard to beat, considering his previous ‘worst walk home’ was when he and his ex were walking through the same path from school.

Atsumu changed his pace when he was certain Kiyoomi couldn’t see him—if he even wanted to see him again. He did it notice he was holding his breath until he stopped at his building.

The door that swung open groaned when it hit the wall. Atsumu’s hands gripped the door handle and shut it closed; here’s the kicker, the door closes itself.

Atsumu was done with the day.

The next morning, he woke in a cold sweat. He shot up from the bed like something would’ve dragged him to hell if he didn’t. His shirt clung to his back and his armpits were damp. Atsumu came to two different epiphanies.

Number one: Atsumu needs to ask Kiyoomi about his own guidelines. The one thing Atsumu would hate to do for himself– and Kiyoomi– would be embarrassing himself in front of his rich snobby parents– Atsumu doesn’t actually know if they are snobby, but he's inferring it from Kiyoomi’s dejected expressions and monotone voice every time he talks about them. On top of that, Kiyoomi would kill him if his parents found out he agreed to date someone just to avoid their pleas to settle down.

Number two: If Atsumu wanted to impress his parents— he’s assuming he needs to do so, because his parents seem like the snobby type who wouldn’t let their child settle for anything less than perfect. However, he’s not sure if they actually heard of him, so he’ll ask about that as well.

His fluffy comforter was ripped off his legs by his hands, his legs basked in the sudden cold after a night of sweaty tossing and turning. He quickly got ready for his run, switching the faucet on and off, preparing lunch, and busting out the door.

The crisp air of the morning hit his face, a mix of the heat and humidity from summer. While he ran, he planned his week in advance. This includes the deafening awkwardness between him and Kiyoomi, and how he’ll have to shred his last sliver of dignity by asking him if he prefers Atsumu to kiss his cheek when he visits his parents or if he’ll just hold his hand.

When he was done with his time outside, he rushed back home and plopped on his couch, indulging in the cushions and the warmth of his pillows– in hindsight, this was actually extremely unpleasant because he’s bathed in sweat and he’s sticky as the netherworld, however, Atsumu is too dazed to care.

He arrives to practice on time and gets straight to work. He diligently warms up, tosses some balls, and does everything to shake whatever’s on his mind out through his ear. It doesn't go so well, because the situation with Kiyoomi is still lingering in his brain, and he can’t seem to eradicate it from existence.

When practice was officially over, Atsumu rushed to take 30 minutes in the shower and get out of there. After half his set time in the shower, he could already hear the closing of lockers and the shutting of the big egress door that led outside.

Fully milking his time, Atsumu waltzed outside, fully expecting an empty locker room. Which was perfect for blasting Doja Cat and Kali Uchis while he toweled off his hair and slipped into his clothing.

That fantasy was immediately crushed when he saw a head of black curls and a face with 2 moles above his forehead. His first instinct was to scream, but after realizing who it was, Atsumu’s eyebrows flew up to the sky.

Why are you here? Was Atsumu’s first question, but when he tried to execute a sound, it was replaced by a single peep. Kiyoomi never stays longer than 15 minutes in the locker room; he was set on escaping the gym as fast as possible. Apparently, he spends a couple minutes rinsing off in the shower, then he goes home and takes his respective 45 minutes in the bathroom to do his after-practice routine. Atsumu always thought it was a bit overkill, but when he voiced his concerns he was met with a cold, “I have curly hair and it’s hard to take care of.”

“Hello.” Kiyoomi said, seeming completely unaffected by the pure shock on Atsumu’s face.

“Hi?” The look of utter confusion didn't crack. Atsumu could now feel his damp clothing seep moisture into his skin; it only amplified the feeling of his uncomfortableness.

“I need to talk to you.” Kiyoomi stood out the way for Atsumu, letting him pass to his sports bag and pack away his materials. In the process of putting everything away, he didn’t meet Kiyoomi’s eyes— not that he minded, Atsumu was confident that he wouldn’t want Atsumu to make eye contact with him anyway.

“Oh, perfect! I needed to talk as well.” The uneasiness in his voice was so easy to detect, that even Atsumu himself internally berated himself for being so awkward. Usually, he wasn’t like this. Every time someone talked to someone, he would be all sloppy grins and witty remarks.

“Sure.” Atsumu guessed that they had the same idea, because when he picked up his bag, they both headed out the door and started walking together to their apartment buildings. When they hit the sidewalk, Atsumu spoke up.

“Okay, so, when’s the family dinner?” He asked, but instead of looking at him like a normal person, Atsumu was suddenly intrigued by the fox keychain he was gifted from high school dangling on his bag.

“In 2 weeks.” Kiyoomi’s curt reply was nothing less than expected, but Atsumu still wished he would fill in the awkward silence.

“Um, alright. Anythin’ ya want me to do…?”

“I have a set of rules, actually.” Now that didn’t surprise Atsumu, Kiyoomi was always on time and prepared everything beforehand. He even decided to get a degree before he went pro. However, Atsumu did wonder if he also spent an unholy amount of time questioning his decision while making said rule set.

”Which are?”

“Number 1, you cannot make anything up on the spot, everything will be decided beforehand, got it? We can make up our fake love-story later. Number 2, touching is limited. You already know I have an aversion to physical contact, but I know my parents will get suspicious if you don’t touch me at all. I only allow hand-holding when we get there, and maybe some other regular contact— basically how you act with Shoyo and Koutarou.” Kiyoomi began.

”Alright, so—“

”I’m not finished. If my parents do question our relationship that much, we can throw in a kiss on the cheek or something. We just need them to lay off.” Atsumu felt as if he got the wind knocked out of himself. He was expecting Kiyoomi to be firm about physical affection or any form of that, so he was ready to tape his hands to his back. He didn’t reply to the comment, which seemed as an agreement for Kiyoomi to go on.

“I know you said that you enjoy PDA, so do what you will, as long as it’s in those guidelines, I don’t care— but I swear to god, Atsumu, if you pull any weird stuff I’ll—“

”How little do you think of me? I would never do that.” Kiyoomi looked at Atsumu with his mouth open, wanting to say some witty retort, but he halted when he took in the sincerity of his words.

“Whatever. Number 3, if we don’t have an answer for one of their questions, I will tell them the answer. You can add on to it, but remember, what I say is the basis of our story.” Atsumu nodded and looked to the sky. While he was lamenting his life choices, he felt a small droplet of rain land onto his skin. He furrowed his brows and put out his hand, feeling the rain pool in the winkles of his palm.

He sees that Kiyoomi notices it too, because he gives the clouds a scowl and holds his hand out as well. His mop of inky curly hair was dethroned from the top of his head, strands and chunks of hair getting heavy from the water, rolling down to the sides of his face. Atsumu could feel the rainwater seep into his scalp, disrupting his body temperature, but his heart only got warmer.

It seemed to hit them that they had to get moving, so they both started to run to the end of the sidewalk. When they hit the end of the block, they swiftly turned to the direction of Kiyoomi’s apartment building. Atsumu laughed while he held his bag on top of his head and rushed to the front entrance. He didn’t know why he chose to step inside the apartment complex, because he didn’t live there; when he grabbed the door handle to go back outside, Kiyoomi looked back at Atsumu.

”Do… Do you want to stay for dinner? I think the rain would let up for another hour or two.” Kiyoomi looked at Atsumu with such intensity that he could’ve convinced Atsumu that he was going to skin him alive inside his room, but Atsumu knew Kiyoomi would never want to get blood also over his belongings, so he did what every person would do when it was bucketing outside and they were chilly.

”Sure.” He was going to continue with a joke about getting murdered, but he didn’t feel like it. Not when Kiyoomi seemed to be in a mood to let Atsumu inside. He should feel thankful.

The duo took the elevator upstairs. Sounds of rain ambience and droplets of water fell off his hair colored in the silence for them. However, this time, it didn’t feel like their awkward silences they shared before; it felt peaceful, like it was prompting Atsumu to fall asleep.

When the elevator ride was over, they stepped out on floor 3 and into Kiyoomi’s room. As soon as the door opened, Atsumu could’ve sworn he saw sparkles radiating from the countertops and floor. It was pristine in this room, like it’s never seen a spec of dust before.

It’s not like Atsumu would think that Kiyoomi would keep it any other way. Judging by his neat-freak tendencies, Atsumu anticipated that he would also have both an air humidifier and incense here— he was right, when Kiyoomi got in and took off his shoes, he lit one lavender stick and turned on his white humidifier near his couch.

Atsumu would have made a comment on how nice his place is— more like ask him if he’s a robot, but he digresses— if it weren’t for the fact he didn’t want to get kicked out as soon as he got here. By the time he finished taking in the place, Kiyoomi had exited his bathroom with two towels in tow.

“Go wash up in the bathroom, I’ll get you some clothes.” Atsumu nodded, and then took the towel from his hand, and sauntered in the bathroom. The bathroom was also extremely clean—that was no surprise—but Atsumu could help marveling at the assortments of hair and body care products lined up on his shelves. Atsumu knew Kiyoomi cleaned up nicely, but this was at a whole new level.

He toweled off his damp hair and switched on the shower faucets. It took everything in him not to get a pump of all the shampoos, but he knew they were all for curly hair anyway, so he got a dollop of the Native eucalyptus and mint shampoo that was nestled tightly in between multiple products. He used his body wash— that also happened to be eucalyptus scented— and rinsed off.

This is how it feels to take a shower in Kiyoomi’s home, I guess. Atsumu couldn’t tell if he was confused or endeared by what Kiyoomi was doing for him. He always believed that he despised Atsumu for his crude comments and reckless behavior— Kiyoomi has always done things by routine, always planning for the next day or the next moment— so he never thought he would ever do something like this for him. On the other hand, he felt warmed by what he was doing, but he didn’t want to think about that.

There was a knock at the door, and when Atsumu allowed the person to enter, Kiyoomi dropped a pile of clothes on top of the fuzzy toilet seat that conveniently had a towel on top of it.

”These may be a little big on you, but I tried my best to find clothes that would fit you.” Kiyoomi said, and then shut the door, leaving no room for Atsumu’s response.

After the shower, Atsumu waltzed outside wearing an oversized t-shirt and baggy sweatpants that threatened to fall off his hips if he didn’t tighten it and tie the strings together with all his might. Kiyoomi was still busying himself in the kitchen, but acknowledged Atsumu’s presence by motioning him to sit down.

He did as he was told, and sat down on the high stools that surrounded his island counter— what also failed to surprise him was the island, because Kiyoomi came from a family with riches, so of course he had some money to his name. His head settled on his hand as he waited for Kiyoomi to finish making food.

The aroma of tomato sauce and fresh cooked pasta graced his nostrils. If he said that it didn’t smell heavenly, he’d be lying. Though, Atsumu couldn’t help feeling a bit off, like he was severely out of place. Kiyoomi and Atsumu’s friendship never warranted stays over and activities of that sort, so having Kiyoomi make them dinner was extremely weird.

When Atsumu was halfway through his meal, Kiyoomi dropped his fork, his expression serious.

”We need to come up with a story.” He stated.

”I’ve figured out that much.” Atsumu joked, and continued to shove the pasta in his mouth, attempting to ignore how off-putting everything felt. Kiyoomi scoffed and took another bite of his food before speaking up.

”Okay,” Kiyoomi began, “so, my parents already know you are my teammate. That means we only need some confession story.”

“Who confessed first, me or ya?” Atsumu asked.

”It would make more sense for you to do it. I guess we’ll settle for that.” Atsumu nodded.

”Sure. Where would our first date be?” Kiyoomi put on his thinking face— the one he uses during stressful matches or when he is lost in thought.

”Let’s just say a restaurant. It’s the most believable one anyway. How long have we been dating?” Kiyoomi stood up to grab two ceramic cups from a cabinet, and then filled them both up with water.

“Um. Let’s just say a week or two. I think that should be the most reasonable.” Atsumu took the last few spoonfuls of his dinner and then scraped the remains from the edges. Instead of putting the dish away, he just sat there and played with his fork. It felt laughable yet novel; he was creating a fake love story for a fake boyfriend.

“Sure. How did you confess?” Kiyoomi prompted.

”Um,” This question stumped Atsumu. How would he want someone to confess to hir, or, well, how would Kiyoomi want him to confess? His mind was drawing a blank. He didn’t know Kiyoomi enough to know how he’d want someone to tell them of their undying love. “How would you want me to confess to ya?”

Atsumu’s response also seemed to thwart Kiyoomi, because instead of replying, a cup clinked with the marble counter. In front of Atsumu was a thinking Kiyoomi who placed a glass of water in front of him. Kiyoomi settled in his seat before replying a second too late.

”I would want you to confess somewhere I think is comfortable, but if I said you confessed to me in my own apartment, my parents would get suspicious. I don't have a habit of letting people into my private space.” Kiyoomi took a sip of the mug in his hands.

“All the more reason for me to confess there, right? It shows them that I’m close to ya.” Atsumu laughs, and also takes a swig from the cup Kiyoomi placed for Atsumu.

Kiyoomi looked at Atsumu in an unreadable expression. If Atsumu was any less observant, he would’ve missed the microscopic crinkle in his eyes, half of his face covered by the beige cup in his hand.

Once they both agreed on their tale, Kiyoomi led Atsumu to the guest bedroom. First of all, Atsumu was gawking at the fact that Kiyoomi chose to buy a two bedroom apartment, but when he mentioned his cousin, Motoya Komori, and how he stayed sometimes, Atsumu just sighed. Kiyoomi left him to take a shower, so Atsumu just settled into the bed.

Next morning, Atsumu rose an hour before Kiyoomi’s scheduled wake up time. He couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy— it wasn’t his house, after all. So what Atsumu did next was perfectly reasonable. There were no signs of rain outside, and the sun was hitting its beautiful orange shade, so Atsumu packed his things and left the apartment. He’ll just repay Kiyoomi later.

Once he reached his house, Atsumu did everything he needed to do there; he brushed his teeth and changed into his sportswear— oh yeah, he was still wearing Kiyoomi’s clothes, but he just popped them into the laundry machine—, prepared a lunch and a breakfast, and then got out for his run.

The night before was still lingering in Atsumu’s mind. How weird it felt, sleeping in someone else’s apartment— that wasn’t new for him, but it still felt off. Atsumu sometimes crashed at his brother’s or his friends’ places, but he didn’t know Kiyoomi. Atsumu finished his run thinking about his previous day.

At practice, Kiyoomi didn’t come up to him or anything. He did everything like he usually did; a nod as a greeting, and his scowls every time Atsumu said or did something stupid. Though, he was grateful that he didn’t bring up anything when his teammates were around. Even though Atsumu knew no one would question it— he was sure they all knew of the arrangement— he still felt a bit embarrassed about having to stay over with someone he barely knew.

However, when everyone finally left, that’s when Kiyoomi striked. As Atsumu was returning from his shower, Kiyoomi cornered him at the doorway, again.

“Where are the clothes I lended you?” Kiyoomi may be only 2 inches taller than Atsumu, but it felt as if Kiyoomi was looming over him.

”Ah. I washed them when I got back home. I can return them later today, if ya want.” Atsumu responded.

”Okay.”

“Do ya wanna walk back home together?” Atsumu asked. He didn’t know why, but he guessed having someone as your fake boyfriend makes you want to spend more time with them.

Kiyoomi eyed him cautiously, like Atsumu was scheming something. Nonetheless, he caved and agreed to walk with him. Atsumu did a small cheer and they both grabbed their bags to head out. This time, their conversation was marginally less awkward, and felt some semblance of a normal conversation. The more they walked, the easier it got to talk to each other.

They spoke about random topics. Those ranged from things like recent scandals between V-league members— turns out, Kiyoomi is actually interested in these topics, which thoroughly surprised Atsumu— and embarrassing memories from their childhood, which Atsumu led, obviously.

It didn’t hit Atsumu until he returned to his apartment that his conversation with Kiyoomi felt easy. Maybe too easy for someone he thinks he doesn't really know. He doesn’t think about it, instead opting to dry Kiyoomi’s clothes and going over to his apartment to drop it off to him.

When he knocks on his room number, Kiyoomi answers it, and takes the clothes. He says a simple thank you and shuts the door. Atsumu would’ve felt offended if it were anyone else, but he starts to think that he knows some things about Kiyoomi, which includes the fact that he prefers his own time.

Atsumu returns home, and the night becomes morning. He finishes his routine, and goes to practice.

His schedule doesn’t change, or at least Atsumu thought they didn’t change, but when he started noticing Kiyoomi more and more, it seemed that it did change. Before he knew it, his ‘walk home with Kiyoomi’ also became part of his routine. Each time he comes out of the shower, Kiyoomi is still miraculously there, waiting. Atsumu doesn't ask, but the fact that he’s still there lingers in his mind most nights.

Though, he couldn’t be any less thankful that he has someone to walk home with. Instead of his silent walks home, where he’s left with his thoughts, he can enjoy a talk with a teammate— who’s slowly starting to become one of his friends.

However, one day while they reached Kiyoomi’s apartment, and Atsumu was about to continue walking to his building, Kiyoomi spoke up.

”Atsumu, do you want to stay for dinner?” Kiyoomi held out the door for Atsumu, like he’d known that Atsumu was going to agree, and he was right. Atsumu smiled at him and entered through the door Kiyoomi had opened for him.

When they both got to the kitchen, Kiyoomi and Atsumu agreed to start cooking. Admittedly, Atsumu wasn’t that useful in a kitchen—Osamu got all the cooking genes, which is why he started his own restaurant, where Atsumu totally doesn’t steal from, (Atsumu calls it brotherly love and support, while Osamu just calls him a leech.)

Kiyoomi got out some ingredients while Atsumu continued to talk about a memory from high school. However, his rambling got cut short when Kiyoomi mentioned something about the family dinner.

”By the way, my family is really excited to meet you. They seem happy that I’ve finally “found” someone.” Atsumu snorted while washing his hands.

”How would we tell ‘em that we're gonna break up in like, 4 months.”

“They’d probably get all lecture-y and say something about the consequences of dating a teammate or whatever.” To that, Atsumu lets out a laugh.

“Does your brother know about this fake-boyfriend thing?” Kiyoomi asked.

”Nah. I’m doing this in spite of him, remember?” Atsumu looked up at Kiyoomi, who’s currently chopping up vegetables, and can’t help but feel a little fond.

”Right. Because you’re so mature.” Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, sliding the pieces of carrots into the rice on the pan.

”What about you? Does Motoya know about this?” Atsumu leaned on the counter, watching as Kiyoomi cooked.

“No, but he’ll probably find out after dinner. You know how he is.” Atsumu, in fact, doesn’t really know how he is. He’s only met the guy a couple of times, and he doesn’t seem too bad. Motoya was all laughs and giggles from what he’s seen. However, even not knowing him, he justs assumes from Kiyoomi’s comment that he’s not like he seems

”So ya can’t say anythin’ either!” Atsumu barked. Kiyoomi rolled his eyes again. Atsumu swears that one day, his eyes will roll back and stay that way, because with the amount of times he’s rolled his eyes at Atsumu, he’s surprised it hasn’t happened already.

”Technically, I can, because I’m not doing this just to spite him.” Kiyoomi gives him a smug expression.

Atsumu scoffed and remained silent after. Letting his presence speak for him. There was something about this setting that made Atsumu feel at ease. He couldn’t tell what it was; it could be the years of cooking with Osamu that made this scene feel so homey, or it was the fact that he was hungry and dinner smelt amazing. Whatever it was, Atsumu couldn’t pinpoint it, because he just wanted to bask in the fluidness of it all.

If Kiyoomi was mad about Atsumu not helping with dinner, he didn’t let it show. He just plated the food in two bowls and placed them on the counter and gestured for Atsumu to sit down with him.

”So, any extra rules ya wanna set? It’s only a week until the family dinner. I don’t wanna mess this up.” Atsumu took a spoonful of rice and brought it to his mouth.

“No, I think we’re okay for now. Though, I need to ask you about your wardrobe.” Kiyoomi said.

”Oh. Do ya want me to wear some expensive suit? ‘Cuz I gotta warn ya, Omi, I don’t own anything like that.” Kiyoomi looked at Atsumu with squinted eyes for two different reasons. First of all, he was eating with his mouth open— in Omi’s little life-rule-book, eating with your mouth open was forbidden—, and he also made some dumb comment on his family’s wealth. However, Kiyoomi shook it off and sighed.

”Don’t eat with your mouth open. And no, I just need you to wear something casual yet formal. It’s nothing fancy, but my family doesn’t want to see you in your usual crocs and ratty t-shirts.” Kiyoomi leveled with him by making an off-hand statement about Atsumu’s choice of outfits, but it didn’t faze Atsumu. If anything, they’re conversations always went like this.

”How ‘bout ya just help me pick an outfit. Easier that way, right?” Atsumu got another bite out of his food.

”Sure.” Kiyoomi nodded. Atsumu would be lying if he said that didn’t surprise him. He half expected Kiyoomi to roll his eyes again and just tell him to pick something.

They finished their food, and then said their goodbyes. Atsumu felt much lighter that night.

About 5 days later, Atsumu and Kiyoomi had dinner at Atsumu’s house instead of Kiyoomi’s. This time, they ordered some takeout and then quickly got to work.

Atsumu couldn’t help but notice the lack of fancy clothes he owned when Kiyoomi was looking through his closet. Everything was either t-shirts, sportswear, or something of the sort.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t have anything or the sort.” Kiyoomi snickered, looking between the racks in his closet. Atsumu couldn’t help but feel a little sheepish. Kiyoomi was analyzing pieces of clothings like he was some detective.

”Well, I don’t really go out a bunch, or at least where my outfit really matters.” Atsumu replied.

“I can tell. What happened to that one black polo you wore all the time?” Kiyoomi questioned. Atsumu knew the exact one he was talking about. It was the Ralph Lauren polo that he wore to every somewhat-fancy event. He completely forgot about that, and he was surprised that Kiyoomi even knew about that thing. Considering the fact that he never came to Shoyo’s offers of hangouts or anything.

”Oh yeah. Wait, I think I know where that is.” Atsumu scavenged through his dresser, which is where he unearthed the black shirt under all his other favorite t-shirts.

Kiyoomi snatched it from his hand, inspecting it for any stains. When he deemed it good, he tossed it on Atsumu’s bed.

”That’s fine. Do you have any slacks? If not, we can settle on jeans.”

”Nah, I have them somewhere in there.” Atsumu and Kiyoomi turn to the heap of pants sitting at the bottom of his closet. Kiyoomi turned to Atsumu like he’d just shot him.

“You’re going through that. Not me.” Is all Kiyomi told Atsumu before he sat on his bed with his arms folded, looking at Atsumu expectantly.

Atsumu sighed and started going through the pile of clothes. He found some of his old and battered clothes that he needed to get rid off, and then he found some pants that would work. He dragged the 3 choices of pants on the ground and laid them out for Kiyoomi to see.

The first option was some vintage-wash jeans that he wears every fall and winter. They seemed fancy enough, but they also clashed with the black polo, so Kiyoomi ultimately said no.

His second option was gray slacks that he bought when he was going on a date with some girl he met at a coffee shop. The girl ended up ditching him mid-date, so Atsumu never never thought about those pants ever again. When he told Kiyoomi of the backstory, he laughed in his face. However, Kiyoomi ended up choosing the third option instead.

The third pair of pants were khaki slacks. They were Atsumu’s go-to pair of pants for hanging out at bars and such, so it was quite obviously the choice. They also looked way more appealing on black compared to the previous options, which—despite Kiyoomi wanting to pick number 2 just to piss him off— sealed the deal.

When they agreed on the outfit, Kiyoomi stayed over for another 5 minutes before leaving for that night. Right before he was about to close the door, he said, “I’ll pick you up at 5 PM. We’ll drive to my parents house.” Then, the door clicked shut.

When Atsumu went to sleep, he couldn’t help but notice the smile playing on his lips.

The day of the dinner, Atsumu felt way more anxious than he thought was necessary. I guess it was reasonable for someone to be nervous about something like this, he was quite literally pretending to be in a relationship with Kiyoomi in front of his parents. What’s even worse was that they had a break from practice on that weekend, so Atsumu had nothing to relieve his stress with. When it reached around 3:30, Atsum took his shower and got cleaned up. He ironed the clothes Kiyoomi chose and fumbled to put them on. He styled his hair, and put on some cologne.

Atsumu was hoping it wasn't weird that he wanted to impress Kiyoomi’s parents. Why wouldn’t he not want to show them that he was great? Kiyoomi agreed to this because he wanted his parents to get off his back about settling or something.

When the clock hit 4:45, Kiyoomi texted him and told him he’ll be picking him up soon. Atsumu responded with an emoji and exited the chat. The thing is, he was already all dressed up, and he had no idea what to do for the last fifteen minutes. He could feel the heat of his palms, and the sweat accumulated in his clenched fists.

Kiyoomi knocked on his door at 4:55. Atsumu opened the door and followed him to his car. His mind was racing with thoughts, and he could tell Kiyoomi could feel them.

”Your thoughts are loud.” Kiyoomi said, buckling his seatbelt.

”Oh, pardon me for bein’ nervous.” Atsumu retorted.

”You’ll be fine. My parents won’t maul you alive. I’ll be there, remember?” Kiyoomi’s words did comfort Atsumu, but it did nothing about the doubts in his mind.

“Ya sure? What if your parents get suspicious?” Atsumu asked, placing his hands in his lap while he looked at Kiyoomi, who was currently getting out of his parking spot.

”It got suspicious as soon as I mentioned I met someone. We’ll be fine, okay?” Atsumu could hear the softness in his voice, and even though Kiyoomi wasn’t directly facing him, it felt like everything Atsumu needed to hear at that moment. His words calmed his jack-rabbiting heart. Atsumu couldn’t help but snort at Kiyoomi’s comment.

”Sure. Sometimes I forget you’re the baby in the family.” Atsumu giggled, and Kiyoomi looked at him, before quickly looking back at the road.

“Says you. Didn’t everyone call you the baby of the team when you were in high school?” Kiyoomi teased, the corners of his mouth turning up a tiny bit.

Atsumu sputtered. He tried to come up with a comeback, but he was blanking. However, one reason he came up short was because at that moment, he realized that Kiyoomi had somehow managed to calm all his thoughts. Which came as a huge surprise to him, because considering the fact that two weeks ago, he thought he knew nothing about Kiyoomi. Now here he was, getting pulled out of his funk by a few words from Kiyoomi Sakusa.

“See, you’re quiet.” Kiyoomi laughed. Atsumu just scoffed.

The rest of the car ride, they chatted while arguing over what song to play on the speaker. Songs switched between old jazz hits—per Kiyoomi’s request— and then pop music—Atsumu’s demands. It seemed like some regular car ride with Kiyoomi; which was never truly regular because they haven’t ever been in a car together unless it was volleyball-related.

When they arrived at Kiyoomi’s parents house, Atsumu took in how nice their house was. It was a three story house—not including the basement—that had a balcony, a large garage, and a nice backyard. Atsumu was already gawking at the entrance, but Kiyoomi seemed unfazed.

They rang the doorbell, and were greeted by a middle-age woman with graying curly hair and a small smile. She wore a nice button up and white skinny jeans. Atsumu recognized this person as Kiyoomi’s mother.

”Kiyoomi! You made it! And you brought your boyfriend!” Her small smile transformed into a large one, she was practically beaming with joy. She held out her hands for Kiyoomi to hug her. When he did, she turned to Atsumu, expecting one from him. He obliged and hugged her back.

”Both of you, come in!” She ushered them inside and closed the door. Atsumu and Kiyoomi were met with a full table of people: Kiyoomi’s sister and brother, and then Kiyoomi’s father.

Atsumu could feel the nervousness coming back, and when he sat down, he could literally feel everyone’s eyes boring into him. The weight of their gazes made him feel so small. Atsumu had both his hands in his lap, and he was practically sweating.

Kiyoomi’s mother spoke up.

”So, Atsumu, why don’t you introduce yourself to us?” Kiyoomi’s mother looked at him expectantly, and so was everyone else at the table. Kiyoomi looked at Atsumu and placed a hand on his hand.

”I’m Atsumu Miya, your son’s boyfriend and teammate. Not sure if ya heard of me.” It was a cursory introduction, but no one can blame him when he was under stress, and Kiyoomi’s father’s gaze was as sharp and cutting as Kiyoomi’s.

“Oh we’ve heard of you alright.” Kiyoomi’s sister speaks up, sipping on a glass of water. Atsumu’s anxiety was punched right out of him. What did she mean by that? When he looked over Kiyoomi, the tips of his ears were red, and he was glaring daggers at his sister. No one said anything.

”What?” Atsumu couldn’t stop his curiosity.

“She just means that she’s heard of you because you’re part of our team. Right, Aiko?” Kiyoomi’s tone seemed all sweet, but Atsumu could tell that he was either panicking or angry, because his voice had a tiny inflection and it was a tiny bit higher.

”Wait no, tell me more.” Atsumu prodded.

”Okay guys, enough. Let’s just enjoy the meal, okay?” Kiyoomi’s mother said, but it seems like Aiko and Kiyoomi’s brother were on the verge of laughing, and his dad already started to grab food from the dishes on the table.

There were an assortment of different foods, and they all looked delicious. Atsumu grabbed a bit of each while everyone chatted about their lives.

He learned the names of each person at the table. Kiyoomi’s mom seemed set on Atsumu calling her Rie, while Kiyoomi’s father was fine in whatever way he referred to him, so he just stuck to Mr. Sakusa. Kiyoomi’s brother’s name was Akihito.

“Alright, Atsumu, how’d you confess?” Aiko inquired.

”So we’re assuming that Kiyoomi didn’t say anything?” Atsumu laughed.

“Oh please, Kiyoomi could never do that.” Akihito said, earning another glare from Kiyoomi. Atsumu had no idea why they all targeted Kiyoomi, but it was fun to witness Kiyoomi’s distressed expressions and witty remarks.

”Hah. Well, I just asked him out while we were hanging out together. It was kinda accidental, and it just slipped out, but after I realized what I said I started freaking out.” Atsumu remembered their fake love story and he elaborated it more, earning some giggles at the table.

”Really? How did Kiyoomi respond?” Rie asked him, locking eyes with Kiyoomi. He was lucky that she wasn’t looking straight at him, because if her gaze was on him for even a second, he would’ve combusted into pieces.
“He looked at me, and I swear for a moment I could hear the cogs in his head turning, and I was about to run out of there, but then he said sure.” Atsumu gave them his most charming smile, but inside, alarm bells duplicated were blaring.

”Ah, our dear Kiyoomi. So awkward.” Aiko teased. Atsumu let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding in, because they managed to believe him on that blatant lie.

”Shut up, Aiko. You’re acting like you asked out your boyfriend as soon as you met him.” Kiyoomi sneered, but the pink flush on his face betrayed him.

”At least I asked him out, right?” She looked at Kiyoomi like she wanted to say more, but when his eyes switched to a more pleading look, she sat back in her seat and pouted.

“You’re lucky I’m kind. I would’ve spilled everything.” Aiko concluded, then she went back to eating her own plate.

If Kiyoomi said something in reply, he didn’t catch it. Atsumu was busy squirting at his meal. His own brain was busy processing everything that just went down. What do they mean, everything? Was Kiyoomi hiding something? Hopefully he wasn’t planning on murdering Atsumu in his sleep or anything.

Yeah sure, his family heard about him because he’s part of the team, but he was confident it was just heard. Him and Kiyoomi weren’t chatty in their highschool days, even though they played each other at nationals and things like that, but Atsumu didn’t remember if he actually said something to him.

Atsumu was the loud and annoying type. Someone who was always talking. He’s crass, foolish, and made some dumb decisions, but overall, he wasn’t sure he did anything to warrant Kiyoomi talking about him— to his parents nonetheless! He may have said something stupid when he was lurking— who is he kidding, all highschoolers say some weird stuff—, which caused him to mention his name.

The only reason he was pulled out from his daydreaming was because Kiyoomi returned his hand to the one in his lap. Atsumu jolted up, his head snapping back to the people in front of him. He looked at Kiyoomi with a confused face. Nobody was asking or talking to Atsumu, everyone was chatting about their days.

“You okay?” Kiyoomi whispered. Atsumu nodded.

The rest of their meal went like this. Someone says something that catches
Atsumu’s attention, he thinks about it (maybe too much about it), Kiyoomi puts his hand on his again, and he comes back to reality.

Maybe Atsumu was overthinking it too much, but that’s kind of hard to imagine, because Osamu tells him that he never thinks (Atsumu believes that he’s just mad, because Atsumu got all A’s every highschool semester.) Rintaro tells him that he overthinks the wrong things, or he doesn’t think at all. So maybe, just maybe, he’s thinking about this a normal amount. Who wouldn’t think about the fact that his fake-boyfriend’s family keeps saying ominous stuff like, “So he finally noticed you?”

Also, everytime someone says something like that, Kiyoomi looks like he’s going to leap across the table and suffocate them with the tablecloth. The tips of his ears turn a bloody red, and his cheeks look like the skin peeled off and it’s just muscle. Atsumu’s surprised that Kiyoomi could even turn that red.

At the end of the dinner, Atsumu leaves the house with a big bear hug from Kiyoomi’s mother, an invite to come over whenever he wants by his father, and two thousand ideas of what his family could mean?

He was hoping it was something simpler like Kiyoomi complaining about him from their previous arguments—unlikely, but not impossible. He had all his money on that one, because he was hoping it wasn’t something like Kiyoomi and his family trying to drag him into a death cult and force him to sacrifice a finger and his liver or something.

When Kiyoomi and Atsumu stepped into the car, it seemed that Kiyoomi was as nervous as he was two hours ago, because he dissolved into a sigh of relief.

“That went surprisingly well.” Kiyoomi’s deft and bony hand started the car and put it out of parking.

“I was expecting somethin’ more… intense. Ya made it sound like yer family was gonna maul me alive.” Atsumu clicked his seat belt into place.

“I thought they would’ve— but isn’t it better that they didn’t?” He spun the wheel around, keeping his eyes on the road. Atsumu looked at the familiar tiny smile that appeared.

“Actually, I think yer family traded being suspicious for teasin’ ya. What did they mean by, ‘Yeah we heard of him alright.’?” A smug smile played on Atsumu’s lips, which immediately wiped the one from Kiyoomi’s. His face turned from glee to pale so fast Atsumu thought he went into cardiac arrest.

“I mentioned you a couple times. They just know of you.” Kiyoomi coughed into his hand. If it weren’t for the fact that Kiyoomi refused to stop looking forward, Atsumu could’ve tried to tell if it was a lie.

Maybe it was the fact that they were both stuffed, or maybe it was because they were both tired, but nowhere did the dinner come up in Atsumu and Kiyoomi’s conversation. However, Atsumu wasn’t blind. He could see the distressed look in his eye every time Atsumu tried to talk about it. The subtle pinch in his eyebrows, the pink dusted on his cheeks, his teeth catching on his bottom lip.

When Kiyoomi dropped Atsumu off at his apartment building, Atsumu came home with even more things. He had the warm feeling from the hug he was given— and maybe from their family’s open welcome to Atsumu—, an invite to their home, four thousand questions instead of two, and a suspicion about Kiyoomi.

When he went to bed, the thoughts doubled (again). Sometimes, Atsumu wonders if going to bed is worth it at this point. Who would want their thoughts to wander all because his head was introduced to the warm embrace of his pillow.

The next morning, Atsumu noticed that things were changing. Now, instead of sitting alone in a corner eating his lunch, Kiyoomi would plop down next to Atsumu and eat with him instead; he had no problem with that, but it was kind of odd.

On top of that, Kiyoomi now takes the high fives Atsumu gives him during practice. While Atsumu is happy that Kiyoomi is taking his fist bumps and hand shakes, he’s also noticing other things.

Shoyo and Koutarou, on the other hand, keep gawking at them and back at each other every time something happens between Kiyoomi and Atsumu. He personally doesn’t understand everyone’s shock. I mean, yeah, having your touch-averted teammate high five you may seem weird, but considering the fact they are each other's fake-boyfriends, doesn’t it make more sense if they were more comfortable with each other compared to others?

Shoyo used to sit with Atsumu during lunch breaks. The word ‘used’ is added because it seems Kiyoomi is driving Shoyo away. When Kiyoomi places his lunch next to Atsumu, Shoyo would make some excuse that meant going to sit somewhere else.

Atsumu asked him about it, and Shoyo responded, “I don’t want to hear your arguments.” Which made no sense to Atsumu, because they’ve been bickering long before this arrangement, and he never said anything about it until now. Though Atsumu does enjoy sitting next to Shoyo, he also likes talking to Kiyoomi, so he can’t actually complain.

Kiyoomi, on the other hand, looks like he’s about to explode every time he sees Shoyo and Koutarou looking at them like they’re zoo animals. His face gets all red and his eyes start twitching. Then he mouths something to the duo, and they stop.

Even two weeks later, they continue gaping at Atsumu and Kiyoomi. When they just look at each other while laughing, Shoyo makes a squeak and looks scandalized. When Kiyoomi steals a piece of meat from Atsumu’s bento box, Koutarou clutches his heart like a proud parent. Kiyoomi has given up on muttering to them, and he stopped turning really red when he looks at Shoyo and Koutarou. He just flashes a smug grin and turns back to Atsumu.

That same week, Kiyoomi became a part of Atsumu’s weekly routine.

It would be after practice ended, and Kiyoomi and Atsumu were about to head out the gym.

“Do you want to have dinner?” Kiyoomi would ask, and then Atsumu would nod and smile.

They would walk back to Kiyoomi’s place and have homemade dinner or some takeout. Either way, Atsumu wouldn’t stop the warm feeling that spread throughout his lungs every time he left.

It was weird to have Kiyoomi so close to him now. Before any of this, Kiyoomi was considered an annoyance to Atsumu, and he was sure Kiyoomi thought of him as a pest— he once overheard Kiyoomi badmouthing him after Atsumu went off on him for his performance at practice. Atsumu thought that he and Kiyoomi’s friendship (could he even call it that?) would never go any farther than being teammates.

Now, Kiyoomi has become a full fledged part of Atsumu’s schedule. His regular—waking up, going on a run, walking to practice, being his awesome self, walking home, dinner, and then shower— seemed so foreign to him now. However, Kiyoomi didn’t even change it up that much. The only difference was that Atsumu was now going home with Kiyoomi.

It’s not like it felt weird. Atsumu was perfectly content with having dinner with his teammate. It’s not like he didn’t do that before. He would sometimes go home with Kortaro and Shoyo so they could talk about their life and have lunch or dinner together. What was the difference between having dinner with Kiyoomi? Well, Atsumu thought there was none. Anyway, they should be doing this anyway, they’re literally (fake) dating— it increases their chemistry on the court, too, so it’s a win in Atsumu’s heart.

Back to reality, Atsumu was in the locker room, freshly showered. He changed into his designated after-practice sweatpants and one of the silly t-shirts he was given as a gag-gift. Kiyoomi was waiting on a bench beside him, patiently waiting for him to finish so they could walk home together— oh, that’s another thing. Kiyoomi now waits for Atsumu to get dressed, and nobody questions why he stays after practice for so long. Perks of being fake-boyfriends for 3 weeks.

Once he’s in his new clothes, Atsumu slings his duffle bag and opens the door for Kiyoomi. They walk out the gym side-by-side. Atsumu glanced up to Kiyoomi’s face. He looks constipated, so Atsumu laughs.

”I can hear the cogs in yer head turnin’.” Atsumu grinned at him, but instead of being met with his usual insult and fun banter, he got a genuine reply.

”Sorry. Just thinking.” Kiyoomi continued to walk with his gaze lingering on the floor.

“About what? Ya can tell me, y’know.” Atsumu probed.

“Don’t you ever feel paranoid?” Kiyoomi looked straight at Atsumu, gazing into his soul.

“About what?” Atsumu raised his eyebrow.

“That this will… all blow over, or something? That your parents will find out that this is all a lie?” Atsumu’s mouth dropped into a small ‘o’. He wasn’t expecting him to ask that.

To answer his question, Atsumu wasn’t actually that nervous about that. Kiyoomi and him were already good friends. All they needed to do was add the title of ‘boyfriends’, and they’d be fine, right? Atsumu felt fine, at least.

”Nah. Why?” He responded.

”I don’t know. I think I’m just anxious.” Kiyoomi bit the inside of his cheek, and turned his head back to the ground. Atsumu could tell he was lying, but he didn’t press further.

”Maybe ya are.”

The rest of the walk, they were silent. Atsumu didn’t mind, but he worried about Kiyoomi. Had his parents said something? He hoped not. The scenes from the family dinner replayed in his mind. Atsumu didn’t say anything too out of the ordinary for somebody’s boyfriend meeting their partner’s parents for the first time.

At the same time, Kiyoomi always spoke his mind. Maybe lying for so long made him feel a bit bad. Anyway, Kiyoomi had always been a worrywart— he wears a mask everywhere because he’s worried about catching something. Atsumu internally scoffed. Why was he so pressed about the situation, anyway? He just said he was fine.

When someone finally spoke again, the two were already inside Kiyoomi’s apartment, takeout in hand and Atsumu— who’d offered to carry the bag— struggling to take off his shoes. They stopped at a restaurant on the way there.

“Hey… do ya think we should tell my ma about this?” Atsumu asked. He fumbled to take off his left shoe one more time before he decided to put the bag down and untie his shoelaces.

”About us?” Kiyoomi’s eyes were wide.

“Yeah, shouldn’t I warn her before I bring ya?” Atsumu questioned. Both of his shoes laid next to each other. He picked the takeout bag up and placed it on the kitchen counter, and then took out two bowls.

”Sure. We’re two months away from your her wedding, right?” Kiyoomi took out two pairs of chopsticks from his utensil drawer. One of the pairs was a regular yellow and green color— Kiyoomi’s favorites—, the other one—Atsumu’s pair—was an orange-y brown and had a fox face printed at the top. He set them down on top of the bowls.

”Yeah. Can ya believe that we're already a month into this? Felt like a week.” Atsumu sighed, and then took out each meal. They ordered some Korean fried chicken and a large bowl of kimchi fried rice to share.

Kiyoomi chuckled, but didn’t respond. He scoped some of the fried rice and placed it in his bowl, and then grabbed some fried chicken. He then pushed the box to Atsumu.

”You can finish this.” Atsumu was already used to hearing those words, so he laughed. Kiyoomi would always take less than he would eat, and push whatever was left to Atsumu. After he finished his portion, he would give Atsumu a pleading look while inching his bowl towards him. Atsumu gave him a knowing look.

“Okay, ya gentlemen, but then ya can’t ask me for more food, later.” Kiyoomi pouted at Atsumu and then took one more spoonful of fried rice before setting the spoon to the side and closing the container.

Before Atsumu got his food, he shifted in his seat, and then gazed at Kiyoomi. It surprised him of how much he knew of the man— all his habits, his little shifts in behavior, and his facial expressions. When Kiyoomi looked up at him, chopsticks right in front of his open mouth, Atsumu finally grabbed some food.

When Atsumu left, he noticed that he smiled way bigger and brighter than before.

The next day, Atsumu made the call to his mom. They had a break from practice today, so Atsumu took the initiative to walk to Kiyoomi’s house and call her there. He texted Kiyoomi before changing and going out to his house. When Kiyoomi texted him back, he was already halfway there. He sent him a rolling eyes emoji paired with a thumbs up.

They were both sitting on Kiyoomi’s couch. Atsumu was laying down with his legs dangling off the side of the couch. Kiyoomi sat right next to him, on his couch. He called his mother.

His phone rang a couple times before she picked up.

”Atsumu! Good morning’! How are ya? Why’d ya call?” His mom questioned. Her same sunshine voice echoing through his phone’s speaker and throughout Kiyoomi’s apartment.

”Hi ma. I’m good. I just called to ask ya somethin’.” Atsumu took a deep breath.

”What is it? Are ya okay?” She asked, her concern evident through his crappy speaker.

”Yeah, I’m alright. Can I bring someone to the weddin’?” Atsumu said.

”What?” She gasped, “Wait? Who? I have to meet them!” She exclaimed. Kiyoomi let out a deep breath from beside him. Atsumu looked up from his phone and at Kiyoomi. The man was curled up and boring holes into Atsumu’s phone.

”Oh, yeah, ya can. He’s right next to me—“

”No! I wanna meet him in person. Come over tomorrow! We can meet over tea!” She squealed. “What’s his name?”

“Ya heard of him before, Kiyoomi, remember?” Atsumu has mention Kiyoomi before— okay, maybe not mentioned. When he was in his high school days, he met the prickly boy and said hi. The guy only looked at him, scowled, and then walked away. Kiyoomi’s cousin gave him a pitiful smile and mouthed ‘sorry’ before chasing after him. Atsumu had complained about him the whole week.

Atsumu’s mom gasped even harder. “Come over tomorrow! I’ll meet him in person!” She said. “Okay, I have to go now, love you, bye!” She hanged up.

Atsumuu sat up, and him and Kiyoomi stared at the ‘call ended’ screen before bursting out in laughter.

”Your mom is so lively.” Kiyoomi had said in between giggles.

”She’s always been like this.” Atsumu had replied before breaking out in another fit of guffawing.

”I guess the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.” Kiyoomi said when they both calmed down. Then, they looked at eachother again and exploded into another fit of howling.

There was nothing specifically funny about the situation, if anything, it was quite stressful— having to go a town over to his mother to meet for tea. However, looking at Kiyoomi’s amused expression and his softened eyes, Atsumu couldn’t help but laugh with him.

Atsumu continued the day by staying at Kiyoomi’s apartment. He raided Kiyoomi’s closet to find clothes for tomorrow, and when they found his outfit— some cargo pants and a loose-fiting white button up—, and then they decided to go out for lunch. Kiyoomi replaced his ratty t-shirt for one of his compression shirts and his pajama pants with sweatpants. Atsumu noticed him standing at the doorway that connected the hallway to the the living room, and then they went outside.

The streets were lively— it was the weekend, duh— and walked until they settled on a cafe. The insides were cozy, and the place looked nice. Once they decided on what to order, Kiyoomi went up to the front and Atsumu went to find a table. He chose the table for two in the corner.

While he was waiting, he found that his gaze lingered on Kiyoomi. The way he stood while ordering, how his mask moved while he spoke, how he politely bowed his head while saying thank you, how he walked back, eyes on Atsumu.

”You’re staring.” Kiyoomi said flatly.

”I know.” Atsumu responded, a smile tugging at his lips. His head rested in his hand.

Kiyoomi frowned, but there was no actual disgust behind it. ”Everything alright?” He asked.

”All good. How long will the food take?” Atsumu switched the subject, sitting up and lifting his head from his hand.

”About 20 minutes.” Kiyoomi answered. Atsumu hummed in response.

”Are ya excited to meet my ma?” Atsumu raised his eyebrow, the smile returning to his face, seeping into his expression. Kiyoomi was going to meet his mother. Kiyoomi’s going to be there. Atsumu is going to be there with Kiyoomi.

”She seems like a lovely person.” Kiyoomi nodded. Atsumu’s smile grew, and a warm feeling spread throughout his body— pride, maybe.

”She’s gonna love ya.” Atsumu said. He wasn’t kidding when he said that— his mother will love him.

Atsumu was aware that he was a lot while growing up. When he was in kindergarten, he would throw tantrums if his brother wasn’t with him at all times. After he got a bit older, he would demand so many things from his classmates, and get into petty arguments with them. This continued even when he went to middle school, he would pick fights with other people. In high school, his parents were called into the office numerous times to pick up the twins because they kept brawling in the courtyard.

Every single time, he would return home with a sour expression on his face and then he’d slam his door shut as soon as his parents let him go after their lecture. He’s heard it a thousand times— Atsumu could probably rehearse it in his sleep—, ‘you guys are old enough to talk your problems out’, blah, blah, and blah.

When he brought over friends, his mother would dote over them and enter their birthdays into her colander. She would hug them every time they came to their house. She would cherish them like she did with him and Osamu.

After Osamu untold his mother about him and Rintaro, she shed a couple of tears. She was so happy that her ‘baby boy’ found someone that he loves— and she loves, as well. Then, she joked that the two would be up to no good all the time. His mother even brought out the childhood photo album; Rintaro got so many more blackmail pictures.

“Who wouldn’t?” Kiyoomi teased, and this time, a small smile was evident. Atsumu chuckled.

The day passed by quickly. Atsumu and Kiyoomi ate lunch together, and then they parted ways. Atsumu returned to his apartment while Kiyoomi went to his. Atsumu took a long shower and planned his outfit for tomorrow.

The next day, Atsumu was buzzing. He got up around 6 AM— early for a day off—, and then made a small breakfast for himself. Then, he took a long shower. He dressed in his outfit that he planned— vintage-wash jeans with a white tank top under a maroon lightweight turtleneck zip-up. He was picked up at 9 AM.

”Good morning.” Kiyoomi greeted him in his predetermined outfit. He had one of his hands on the steering wheel and the other one rested on the center console. His deep eyes were fixed on Atsumu. Maybe it was the jacket he wore, but he felt unusually hot and stuffy.

”Mornin’.” Atsumu responded. He clicked his seatbelt into place and checked the time on his watch; it read 9:02. It took an hour to get to his parents’ place, so they’d be there around 10 o’ clock. His mom wanted to meet him around 10:30, so he’d be able to show Kiyoomi around beforehand.

He gave Kiyoomi the address and then they were off.

The sound of engines stirring and cars cursing through the highway was the only thing Atsumu could hear— besides the heavy breathing of Kiyoomi, of course. The man looked troubled. His face was a mix of his thinking face and a worried expression. Atsumu frowned.

“She’s gonna love ya, Omi. Trust me.” Kiyoomi glanced at Atsumu, and then quickly shifted his gaze back to the road ahead of him.

”I know how you feel now— this is scary.” Kiyoomi’s face didn’t ease at all, if anything, Atsumu’s comment made him worry even more.

”If anything, I should be worried. She’s gonna show ya baby pictures of me.” Atsumu laughed, and then he watched as the tension lifted from Kiyoomi’s shoulders. Atsumu smiled when he saw Kiyoomi’s expression lighten.

”And if she doesn’t?” Kiyoomi asked.

”That’s not gonna happen.” Atsumu deadpanned, and then they both laughed.

“You have that much faith in me, Atsumu?” Kiyoomi said, his tone laced with smugness.

”What can I say? I’ve been your boyfriend for a month, and your setter for 2 years. I’m positive, Omi.” They locked eyes, and then laughed again.

Atsumu talked Kiyoomi’s knitted expression off his face, and relaxed when he realized that Kiyoomi was back into the ease of chatting and laughing with Atsumu. He smiled when it registered that he did that, he made Kiyoomi relax. A sudden feeling of satisfaction washed over him.

Before any of them knew it, a generic AI voice— that belonged to the GPS— interrupted their conversation with a robotic ‘you’ve arrived’. The car stopped in front of a small beige house that Atsumu recognized as ‘home’.

”Alright, we’re here.” Kiyoomi said.

”I can see that, Omi.” Atsumu laughed, and then Kiyoomi laughed with him. Atsumu checked his watch once again, and was met with the bold white numbers that read 10:23. Okay, so the drive had taken a bit longer than expected. That was fine, but Atsumu couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. He wanted to show off his town to Kiyoomi.

Atsumu went up to the porch, which had a brown rattan rocking chair that looked like it had been through years of wear and tear— it had. Then, there was the old ‘welcome’ mat that Atsumu had never really cared about before. The doorway was made out of wood and had line markings that had marked Atsumu and Osamu’s height when they were younger. He grabbed the key and opened the door.

”I’m home!” Atsumu called, and then his mother emerged.

“Atsumu!” She exclaimed, and then pulled Atsumu into a hug. Even though she was 5 inches shorter than Atsumu, she still had enough strength to crush him in her hug. Atsumu hugged her back with the same enthusiasm. She let go of him when she saw Kiyoomi.

”Ya must be Kiyoomi!” Her smile doubled in size, and she went to hug Kiyoomi. Atsumu was about to tell her that Kiyoomi wasn’t too fond of hugs with people he didn’t really know, but Kiyoomi surprised Atsumu when he matched her hug with the same strength.

”Good morning to you, Mrs. Miya. It’s lovely to finally meet you.” Kiyoomi smiled and fidgeted with his hands behind his back.

”Oh, please. Just call me Kana.” She grinned back, and led both of them to the table. Atsumu glanced back at Kiyoomi; he looked nervous and kept on fidgeting with the bottom button of his shirt. When all three of them sat down, the tenseness in his shoulders returned. Atsumu was going to comfort him with a hand— like he did when Atsumu visited his parents—, but his mother beat him to it.

”Ya look constipated, Kiyoomi.” His mother had an amused look on her face. Atsumu bursted out in laughter. Redness creeped onto Kiyoomi’s ears, but he visibly eased up.

“I’ve heard that before.” Kiyoomi said, and then glanced at Atsumu, who was still laughing.

”I’m telling ya, Omi, ya look constipated!” He laughed one more time, but when he took another look at Kiyoomi’s embarrassed face, all pouty and crimson— Atsumu laughed one more time; he chuckled until his stomach hurt.

His mother smiled at the two of them, and then spoke up once Atsumu’s fit was over.

”So, Kiyoomi. I’ve heard of ya before.” His mother grinned. Atsumu felt a tinge of embarrassment.

“Oh really? How?” Kiyoomi inquired, clearly trying to tease Atsumu. He gestured to her to keep going, but Atsumu kept on flailing his arms around in a giant ‘X’ and mouthing ‘NO’ and ‘STOP’ and ‘PLEASE’ to his mom— it’s not like he said anything weird. He just complained about the guy with a mop as hair and a scowl that could kill flowers.

“Well… I wouldn’t like to embarrass him. Not right now. How about I learn more about you before we deep dive into my lovely son?” She diverted the subject. Atsumu audibly sighed in relief and thanked the heavens or his wonderful mother. Atsumu glanced at Kiyoomi, who looked a bit disappointed, but he didn’t press further.

“Of course. Anything to embarrass Atsumu.” Kiyoomi smirked, and now, his mother started to laugh.

”Hey! Watch your mouth, Omi!” Atsumu playfully hit Kiyoomi on his shoulder. Kiyoomi responded by mouthing ‘haha’, with his head tilted and his eyes crinkled at its corners.

“Okay, okay, enough. Kiyoomi, how did you figure out that you liked my son?” She asked, her expression serious. Her question threw Atsumu off his guard. He figured that his mother would be inquisitive, obviously, but he didn’t expect that. He looked over at Kiyoomi, who he thought would look panicked, but he wasn’t. He stayed calm.

”When he first held the door open for me, back in highschool.” Kiyoomi responded, as smooth as butter and as serious as his mother. Atsumu gawked. His mother nodded in approval and grinned again.

”Oh really?” Atsumu’s mother glanced at Atsumu with a knowing look and a raised eyebrow. Atsumu blushed.

”It wasn’t like that! I was just opening the door for him. Ya told me to be a gentleman, ma.” Atsumu defended. His mother giggled again, and then took another sip of her tea. His mom was about to say something, but a loud beeping sound came from the oven.

“Oh! I forgot! I made ya’ll cookies. They’re snickerdoodles!” She exclaimed, and Atsumu grinned brightly— his mother’s cookies were the best. She was an amazing cook and amazing baker— probably where Osamu got his chef skills from.

Atsumu recalled a memory from before. His mother and him made cookies while his father and brother played go fish at the dining room table. This happened spontaneously throughout his childhood— his mother would teach him how to bake while his father and Osamu were in the background. He learned how to make a gosh darn good batch of cookies that day.

She plated 5 of them on a white plate with pink flower accents and a gold lining. They all grabbed one. Atsumu immediately munched on it, savoring the familiar chewy texture and cinnamon flavor of the cookie. He hasn’t got the time to make these again, but when he first moved out of his parents’ house, he would make these cookies to remind himself of the good memories he had there.

”These are wonderful.” Kiyoomi mumbled. Atsumu looked over at him. He had his eyes closed, and he was clutching the cookie with both hands like it was his lifeline. Atsumu felt a strange feeling of triumph.

”If you ever want more, Atsumu can teach you how to make some.” She winked at Atsumu.

”No thank you, I want the recipe from the baker herself.” Kiyoomi responded. His mother threw her head back in a laugh— Atsumu was right, his mother did love Kiyoomi.

”Well, you’re gonna have to dig through the grave and revive her from ash to get to my great grandmother, then.” She preened.

”Oh. Well, I’ll do just that. Do you have anything you want me to tell her?” Kiyoomi deadpanned, and his mother laughed— Kiyoomi’s dry humor was getting to her.

“Thank her, for all of us—the Miya family, my coworkers, members of the PTO back when Atsumu was in elementary school, you, the whole community, actually.” His mother’s laughter was joined by Atsumu and Kiyoomi.

”What else can you bake?” Kiyoomi asked, and then tacked on, “My soul, hopefully. These are heavenly.” Their chuckling doubled in volume.

”Oh, Kiyoomi, you flatter me. Did you sweet talk Atsumu into falling for you like this?” She asked, grinning from ear to ear.

”Actually, ma, I had to do all the sweet talking.” Atsumu intervened, and looked back at Kiyoomi, who was already pouting. He giggled and then looked at his mother, who was already staring at him with a pleased look on her face.

“If sweet talking meant annoying me every two seconds, yeah, sure.” Kiyoomi retorted. Atsumu took another bite of his cookie to stop the bright and warm smile that was threatening to show itself.

“Well. It worked out, right?” His mother replied, and then took another sip of her tea. Atsumu took the opportunity to gulp down all the liquid in the cup his mother had on the table for him. It was green tea, his favorite.

”It did.” Kiyoomi responded, hiding his own smile with the tea cup. Atsumu watched him with stars in his eyes.

The conversation felt real. It felt like Kiyoomi was meeting his mom for the first time— truly meeting his mom. Not as some fake-boyfriend, but as Kiyoomi. As someone who Atsumu met, and spent hours with, and had random late-night conversations with him, and shared lunches with him, and walked home with him after practice. It felt like the real Kiyoomi was meeting his mom. Not the fake-boyfriend he thought he was entering with.

At the end of it, his mother took out the big photo album of Atsumu and Osamu as a child. The cover of it was a soft baby blue with yellowing pages, and the album was so thick that you had to yank it out of it’s spot in the bookcase. On the front, the words read: ‘THE TWINS, 2 MONTHS - 11 YEARS’. Atsumu snorted.

His mother showed every page to Kiyoomi— the heartwarming ones, and then the embarrassing ones, like Atsumu picking his nose. Kiyoomi laughed and snapped pictures at every photo he liked (usually the humiliating ones) despite Atsumu’s protests. However, there was one image that Kiyoomi took a photo of, which wasn’t like all the others.

It was an image of Atsumu in his Boy Scout uniform, leaning over to show the camera something. His smile was so big that his gums were showing, and most of his hair was cut out of the photo. In his hand was the center of the picture— a small pin that was illegible with how small the writing was.

Atsumu remembered taking this picture. It was after he returned home from an overnight trip to the forest with his Boy Scout club. He had earned his first pin there, and while he doesn’t remember which one it was, he knew that he was ecstatic. He rushed home with Osamu to show his pin to his mom, and asked her to take a picture. He excitedly shoved the pin the the camera’s face.

Atsumu didn’t know why he took a picture of that one specifically, but Atsumu couldn’t question it. Not when he had to watch out for when his mother exclaimed, ‘oh my gosh! I remember this’, which indicated that a very embarrassing story was about to be told, and Atsumu’ name would be stained once again.

They continued with the cycle of going through pages and then getting out the next photo book. The next one they took out was a red and black book labeled, ‘OSAMU AND ATSUMU, MIDDLE SCHOOL - HIGHSCHOOL’ in gold. The book was significantly less filled— probably because they were both older and actually minded when their mom took pictures of them unprompted. However, this book was also stuffed with the same amount of stupid memories that unlocked a moment Atsumu wanted to keep burying deep down in his mind, and an equal amount of lovely moments between him and Osamu.

Again, Kiyoomi took all the snapshots of Atsumu sobbing violently— those pictures were taken by Osamu, his mother clarified—, and pictures of his face smashed into his pillow, drooling. Atsumu tried to cover those photos, but Kiyoomi slapped his hand away and took multiple pictures of said embarrassing scenes. He even teased, ‘so this was the annoying guy who taunted me at every tournament I saw him at?’.

Then, he shocked Atsumu by snapping a picture of one of Atsumu’s loveliest— or at least he thinks it is lovely— photoshoots. It was a Polaroid of Atsumu smiling brightly at the camera, in front of a raging waterfall and mountain. He had his hands on his hips, and his bleach-blonde hair was messed up and wet.

They were visiting New York for the Niagara Falls. At that time, they came all the way from California, so Atsumu was obviously elated to be there. On top of that, they took an extremely long time to get there— because they had gone on a road trip—, so Atsumu cherished the moment even more. He had taken so many photos of everything, that he forgot to take photos of himself, so Osamu took matters in his own hands, and snapped a picture of Atsumu. At first, he got really upset because he thought he wasted film on a bad picture of Atsumu, but turns out, the photo came out really nice. Atsumu was so excited, he hugged his brother, and even gave him some of his snacks on the car ride back.

Atsumu smiled when he saw Kiyoomi take that photo. He grinned at Kiyoomi, ‘I look so good in there, right?’ Atsumu had said, which received a scowl from Kiyoomi, but it was harmless to Atsumu’s mood.

During their departure, Atsumu and his mom were left alone. Kiyoomi was using the restroom. His mother turned to him.

“Atsumu, you really love him, don’t you?” She teased, and Atsumu's heart stuttered. Their act was that good? Atsumu’s brain searched for the right words to respond to this, his mouth morphing into random shapes. ”It’s okay, you don’t have to answer that. I know the answer already.” She closed her eyes and smiled to herself. Atsumu internally sighed. Close call.

Or was it? Was it truly a close call when Atsumu felt more caught then he had in ages? How thankful when he heard those words? Was it really a ‘close call’ when those words felt more truthful then the ones he labeled him and Kiyoomi as? Why do the words ‘love’ and ‘Kiyoomi’ fit so well in the same sentence?

Atsumu bit his lip. Kiyoomi returned.

However, his mother’s words had nothing on his mood— not when his mother smiled when she saw Kiyoomi exit their bathroom. Not when he watched his mom hug Kiyoomi first before going over to hug Atsumu goodbye. Not when he watched Kiyoomi’s smile lengthen when his mother asked them to meet again. Kiyoomi had gotten along with Atsumu’s mother extremely well. Atsumu’s heart felt like putty.

He and Kiyoomi settled inside the latter’s car. Atsumu was tired, and he was sure Kiyoomi was as well. After the extremely chaotic 5 hours he just spent with Kiyoomi and his mother— which felt like one hour—, he was sure Kiyoomi wanted to go home and stuff his face in a pillow. But at the thought of that, something rugged in his heart. Before he could dwell on it, Kiyoomi turned to him.

“Do you want to stay over?” He quietly asked, like he was afraid of rejection— which Atsumu wouldn’t give him, not ever.

“Like…a sleepover?” Atsumu raised an eyebrow. Kiyoomi never asked Atsumu to stay over. What changed?

“Yeah.” He nodded.

”Wait, but it’s like,” he looked down at his watch again, “3 PM. What are we gonna do then?

”A date, maybe.” Kiyoomi mused. Atsumu sputtered and paused before he even finished putting on his seatbelt.

”Huh?” Atsumu looked like a fish out of water. His jaw was dropped.

”Well— not a date, maybe like a hangout—for like, bonding purposes or something. Put on your seatbelt” Kiyoomi was dead serious. Atsumu sighed.

Okay, so it isn’t a date. Atsumu was overreacting. Why was he like this anyway? It’s not like this is real— no matter how many times Atsumu and Kiyoomi hung out. No matter how many times they looked into each other’s eyes and smiled, no matter how many times he caught himself looking at Kiyoomi across the room no matter— Atsumu stopped himself there. Don’t think about that.

They drove home. There was nothing special about it— they just laughed and talked like always. However, they didn’t return to Kiyoomi’s apartment like Atsumu expected him to. They stopped in front of another small cafe— not the same one from before— that was bustling with people. It was a tan brick building with blue and pink highlights, art on the windows, and multiple tables set outside the shop. Chatter was the first thing Atsumu heard when he stepped outside the car, and his nose was greeted with the smell of baked goods— no wonder why this place was so popular.

But Atsumu was confused— Kiyoomi hated crowds. He would refuse to go anywhere famous because he didn’t want to mingle in the heat of bodies and the brushing or shoulders or how he didn’t want to feel someone’s hot breath on his neck. Atsumu looked at Kiyoomi.

”This place looks really nice, but Omi—“

”It’s okay, Atsumu. I’ll be fine.” Kiyoomi rolled his eyes.

Kiyoomi pulled Atsumu toward the door— which surprisingly didn’t have a line outside. The place was nice— wooden paneling and flower wallpaper—, but Atsumu felt swarmed by the amount of people there. He was then pulled by Kiyoomi to move forward. The vague outline of Kiyoomi was covered by the amount of bodies Atsumu had to dodge. Even though the place was quite small, Atsumu felt as if a thousand bodies could be stuffed into this placate. Then, he was pulled into the considerably long line with Kiyoomi next to him.

They moved every few minutes, but even though Kiyoomi was right next to him, his grip on his wrist didn’t lose its strength— it was like Kiyoomi was afraid Atsumu would disappear from his side by getting swept in a wave of people passing by to get a napkin. When he stopped, he was beside Kiyoomi at the cash register. Atsumu scanned the menu on the counter and squinted. There were multiple delicious options, like tiramisu and ube muffins, but his eyes landed on the strawberry cheesecake. Then his eyes landed on the strawberry matcha latte special.

Atsumu was going to open his mouth, but Kiyoomi nodded at him and said, “I know what you want already, don’t worry.” Atsumu was about to protest, but the woman’s cheery voice stopped him.

”Hi there! What would you like to order?” She said, and then looked at both of them expectantly.

“I’ll have one medium black coffee, and a lemon yuzu danish. He’ll have a strawberry matcha latte and a strawberry cheesecake, please.” Kiyoomi ordered, and the woman nodded and gave them the price, but Atsumu didn’t pay any attention to that. Atsumu gawked.

He just ordered for him, and on top of that, he got his order right. Questions were swarming his mind— just like the people crowding the shop—, but he didn’t acknowledge it when Kiyoomi led him to the back to wait for their food. He gave Atsumu a smug look.

”So? Where’s my thank you?” Kiyoomi smirked.

”Why would I thank ya? Ya ordered for me. What if you got stuff I didn’t want?” Atsumu scoffed, but Kiyoomi’s smirk only grew.

“But I didn’t, did I?” Kiyoomi snickered.

”Yeah, ya didn’t.” Atsumu rolled his eyes in response.

Their food came fairly quickly. As soon as his name was yelled over the volume of the room, Kiyoomi got up to get their items for them. When he returned, Atsumu preened. His drink looked delicious. He eagerly grabbed his drink and the small triangular shaped box that had his cheesecake. Atsumu mixed his drink and took a sip, then smiled at Kiyoomi. In response, Kiyoomi smiled back.

Atsumu snaked through the bodies with Kiyoomi until they reached the door, where Atsumu held it open for Kiyoomi. The cool breeze and bright sun greeted the two of them.

“Okay, Omi, where to next?” Atsumu said with a smile.

”You’ll see.” Kiyoomi said ominously. Atsumu laughed at that, and then walked with Kiyoomi through the busy streets. The streets were lively and bright. Sounds of cars driving past them, people chatting and laughing, and feet hitting the pavement created an orchestra of noise that comforted Atsumu— he loved full and vibrant places.

When they turned corners— with Atsumu almost bumping into a running child—, his eyes were met with a lovely park across the street. It had flowers growing along the edges of sidewalks and entrance gates. It wasn’t as full as the streets, but it still felt so alive. People walked their dogs or conversated with friends on benches. Atsumu glanced at Kiyoomi, only to find out that he was already looking back at Atsumu.

”How romantic, Omi.” Atsumu commented and grinned. He took another sip of his drink while Kiyoomi just looked at him with his disappointed face on.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Atsumu. I always come here.” He scoffed, and then walked down the road without Atsumu. The blond laughed and then chased after Kiyoomi. By the time he got there, Kiyoomi was already staring at Atsumu with his drink and pastry in hand. Before Atsumu could say anything, Kiyoomi spoke up.

”Let’s go sit down.” Kiyoomi said, and then proceeded to leave Atsumu again, but instead of being left behind, Atsumu picked up his pace and smoothly moved right next to Kiyoomi.

They sat down at an empty wooden bench near the middle of the park— trees towered over them, and the vivid green mixed with the shining sun painted them in a lovely green shadow, with bits and pieces of sun peaking through the leaves and casting the ground with its light in fragments. Atsumu moved his head from the sky and looked around him.

The edges of the path had plant boxes that decorated the otherwise plain grey stone ground. Each plant box had one of the three flowers: roses, tulips, or peonies. Atsumu looked back at Kiyoomi. He had already decided to eat his pastry, and watched Atsumu admire the flowers.

”I used to come here all the time, when I just moved to the city.” Kiyoomi continued. “That’s why I didn’t mind the cafe. I came there all the time.” He took another bite of his food. Atsumu gazed at him.

”Oh. Well, it’s really pretty.” Atsumu plainly responded.

”I know.” Kiyoomi said, distantly, but still looked at Atsumu. He had his unreadable expression on, but Atsumu didn’t question it. Atsumu turned back to the flowers, then he watched a dog play fetch with its owner.

”You know, things have changed.” Kiyoomi said, then taking a sip of his drink. When Atsumu refocused his gaze onto Kiyoomi, the other was already gazing ahead.

”Really?” Atsumu asked, but he knew the answer. Things had changed. They had been different, for a really, really long time.

”They changed the flowers. They usually grow marigolds and hydrangeas around this time of year,” Kiyoomi continued, “but it changed.”

”Well, ya never know. Maybe they wanted to spice stuff up.” Atsumu opened the box to his cheesecake. It had an eggshell white and golden crust. The deep red color of the jam and strawberries reflected in the sunlight. It looked absolutely delectable. “Do ya have a fork?” Kiyoomi handed him the utensil from his pocket.

“How’s the cheesecake?” Kiyoomi asked after Atsumu finished his first bite.

“It’s pretty good. How’d ya know I’d want this?” Atsumu finally asked. The thought made a rep appearance in his mind. He eyed Kiyoomi.

”I’m magic.” Kiyoomi smirked. Atsumu rolled his eyes and took another piece of the cheesecake. “Give me one.” Atsumu almost choked on his food.

”What?”

”Can I try it?” Kiyoomi raised an eyebrow, like Atsumu was being purposefully obtuse. However, Atsumu was acting reasonably. Kiyoomi ever shared food— he wouldn't even do that with his cousin, and they’re family.

“Uh, but I got no other fork, Omi.” Atsumu stammered. Kiyoomi glared at him and grabbed the box from his hand.

”Don’t care.” Is all he said before shoving a piece of cheesecake into his mouth. Atsumu just sighed.

When they both finished eating their food, Atsumu and Kiyoomi disposed of their garbage and walked around the park.

”What do ya wanna do now?” Atsumu asked.

”I actually had a place I wanted to shop at. Motoya’s birthday is in a month, and I just wanted to get some of it out of the way.” Atsumu looked at Kiyoomi incredulously.

“A month away…? Then why are ya shopping now?” Kiyoomi stared at him before sighing.

”Did you not just hear me? I said I wanted to get some of it out of the way.” Kiyoomi grabbed Atsumu’s wrist and dragged him to turn the corner.

”Whatever…” Atsumu gave up. If Kiyoomi was set on something, then he’s set for life. Arguing with Kiyoomi was like telling a brick wall to move out of the way. When they finally stopped, Atsumu was met with a small shop with a pastel color palette and a small line outside. The two waited in line for around 5 minutes before they entered.

“This is for Motoya, ya said?” Atsumu questioned as soon as they went inside. The shop was a stationary store with a bunch of trinkets and blind boxes inside.

“He enjoys spending money on blind boxes.” Kiyoomi replied, and Atsumu just nodded. He had questions, for sure.

Atsumu followed Kiyoomi around, where he would pick out a couple boxes from the shelf and check the prices of each of them— some were over 15 dollars, but Kiyoomi still chucked it in his basket.

While he walked with Kiyoomi, the keychain aisle caught his attention. There was a matching fox phone charm that looked really cute, but Atsumu didn’t want to buy one of the matching keychains for himself, and he didn’t want to buy the second one with no one to give it to. He picked it up from the display and took a long look at it, and he internally debated the pros and cons of buying a matching phone charm without having anyone to match with. He almost put it back before Kiyoomi came up behind him.

“Do you want it?” Kiyoomi said from behind him. Atsumu jumped and almost swung at him.

”Don’t do that! And yes, I do want it, but it’s a matching charm… Do ya think it would be weird if I bought it without having anyone to match with?” Atsumu inquired.

”If you wanted to match with me, you could’ve just asked.” Kiyoomi deadpanned.

”Wait! That wasn’t what I was trying to do— wait ya would do that for me?” Atsumu’s eyes sparkled at Kiyoomi. He sighed and then grabbed the keychain from Atsumu’s hand and then the matching one front he display.

“You’re the best, Omi!” Atsumu exclaimed.

They left the store with a receipt in Kiyoomi’s hand— all that he bought was $65 dollars, crazy— and a fox keychain connected to Atsumu’s phone. As soon as he left the store, he grabbed the keychain from the bag and popped his phone case off so he could tie it to one of the holes. Atsumu grinned all the way back to Kiyoomi’s apartment.

When they entered, Kiyoomi immediately ran to his room after he took off his shoes. When Atsumu called after him, Kiyoomi was already walking back into the living room with a long red box in his hand.

”What’s that?” Atsumu raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes at Kiyoomi.

“I have some extra incense sticks. You can have them.” Kiyoomi placed the box into Atsumu’s hands. Atsumu opened his mouth to say something.

”I— Omi. I don’t need this.” He huffed, not knowing what to do with the box, but Kiyoomi looked him dead in the eye.

”Yes you do. You’d be surprised how well these work.” Atsumu closed his eyes and sighed, then he placed the box on the counter.

“Your mother said that you had the recipe for those cookies, right?” Kiyoomi inquired. Atsumu grinned.

“Yup. I could probably make them with my eyes closed.” Atsumu bragged, but when he looked at Kiyoomi, his pride wavered. Kiyoomi stared at Atsumu for a long while with his mouth hanging open.

”So she wasn't lying? You can actually bake?” Atsumu gasped at his question, and then gasped again when he realized that Kiyoomi was being serious.

“Yeah, obviously. Osamu cooks and I bake.” Atsumu said, but Kiyoomi didn’t look convinced. Atsumu smirked. “Wanna find out for yourself?” He asked.

“You’d give me food poisoning.” Kiyoomi replied, but then he opened a cabinet that held all of his flour, sugar, and all his other ingredients. Atsumu took this as an invitation.

”I promise ya, Omi. I’m gonna show ya how to create the best gosh darn cookies ever.” Atsumu said, and then flung open the fridge to grab the eggs and butter.

Atsumu got all the ingredients out from their place in Kiyoomi’s kitchen and lined them up. He was going to question why he had so many baking ingredients, but when Kiyoomi replied ‘Motoya’, Atsumu knew it was better not to ask.

He had the butter, table and brown sugar, eggs, vanilla, flour, salt, baking soda, cream of tartar, and cinnamon, he was set. Kiyoomi grabbed him some bowls and measuring cups, then both of them meticulously washed their hands. After that, Atsumu peeled the butter out of the wrapper and plopped it into a bowl. He then mashed the butter and added both sugars into the bowl, then mixed it together. Even though his gaze was fixed on the bowl in front of him, he could see Kiyoomi watching him in the corner of his eye.

When he finished mixing it together, he cracked an egg open with one hand and added it into the bowl— he was totally not flexing his baking skills, totally not. When he finally finished stirring the bowl, he added one teaspoon of vanilla into the mix. It was oddly quiet between the two, so Atsumu spoke up.

”Ya know, it’s funny to me, because Osamu’s really good at cooking but he sucks when it comes to using the oven. He tried to make cookies with Suna when they were home alone, and when I came back, I swear I could see smoke from outside the house.” Atsumu laughed, and then when he finished combining those ingredients, he snatched the sieve from one of his drawers and poured the flour through.

”Really? Could’ve fooled me.” Kiyoomi smirked at Atsumu when their eyes met. Atsumu scoffed.

”If you’re so hellbent on insulting me, how about you come do this?” Atsumu raised an eyebrow, but Kiyoomi didn’t budge.

“You were the one who promised me a batch of ‘the best gosh darn cookies ever’.” Kiyoomi taunted. Atsumu took a pinch of flour in between his fingers and held it in front of Kiyoomi’s face. Some of the flour fell from his hands like snow. Kiyoomi paled.

”You wouldn’t dare.” Kiyoomi hissed.

”Or would I?” Atsumu teased, and then he flung his hand at Kiyoomi’s face. His hair was then tainted with white powder. Kiyoomi seethed.

”Atsumu.”

”Kiyoomi.” Atsumu leveled.

“You’re lucky I don’t want all that to fall, but trust me Atsumu, as soon as you put those cookies in the oven, I’m gonna get you.” Kiyoomi warned. Atsumu brushed it aside and kept making the batch of cookies. He added all the powder ingredients into the sieve— salt, baking soda, and cream of tartar.

He sifted them into the bowl and then mashed them together into a dough like texture. Then, he grabbed a separate plate-like bowl and made the cinnamon sugar— sugar and cinnamon mixed together. He then separated the dough into 5 even parts and rolled them into balls inside the cinnamon sugar mix. He then dropped them on a tray with a sheet of parchment paper on top. He opened the oven and slid the tray inside.

Before Atsumu could even get up from his bending position, flour rained on top of him. Atsumu shot up and turned to see Kiyoomi, with his sour expression and flour still clinging to his hair, drizzling flour onto Atsumu.

”Kiyoomi.” Atsumu said, still processing.

”Atsumu” Kiyoomi smirked at him.

Atsumu tackled Kiyoomi, trying to swat away his hand while reaching for more flour. Kiyoomi— being 2 inches taller, and probably much stronger than Atsumu—, got to it before him and raised it out of reach. Atsumu jumped to get it back, but when he tried to, he slipped on some of the excess flour on the floor.

He was still recalibrating from the fall, but Kiyoomi tilted the bag and poured a heap of flour on Atsumu’s head. Atsumu looked up at Kiyoomi— flour threatening to seep into his eyes— and glared at him. Kiyoomi was frozen, looking a bit surprised like he didn’t mean to pour a bunch of flour on him.

Atsumu lunged up and grabbed the flour from his hand. Kiyoomi realized what Atsumu did a little too late, because Atsumu already had a handful of flour in his palm when Kiyoomi spoke up.

”Atsumu, don’t do this. Let’s make a truce. Plea—“ Kiyoomi’s face was hit with a ball of flour, and then it fell off of him. Kiyoomi shakes his head like a dog, trying to get most of it off of him.

Atsumu laughed, at Kiyoomi’s request and at his stupid look. Kiyoomi was looking down at his ruined clothes and then back at Atsumu, like he was in the wrong.

If looks could kill, Atsumu would’ve dropped dead on the floor; Kiyoomi wasn’t wearing an apron, so Atsumu effectively ruined his clothes. He inched towards Atsumu, and before he could dash away, Kiyoomi swiftly grabbed the bag from his hands and grabbed his own handful.

Atsumu panicked. He was at the end island in the middle of his kitchen, closest to the bathroom. He devised a plan: distract Kiyoomi and run back to the bathroom. Atsumu circled around the island one more time. Kiyoomi followed suit. Then, when Atsumu got close enough, he sprinted to the bathroom and almost fully closed the door, but then Kiyoomi’s foot blocked the door.

Atsumu pressed against the bathroom door with all his might, but he couldn’t fully close it. Before he knew it, Kiyoomi busted the door open and he was face-to-face with Kiyoomi, with nowhere to go.

“That wasn’t too smart, Atsu.” Kiyoomi giggled, inching closer to Atsumu with the flour bag opened towards Atsumu.

“If ya do that, your whole bathroom is going to be stained. Ya might attract bugs.” Atsumu tried to reason, but Kiyoomi’s dark expression didn’t budge. He put both of his hands up; Atsumu surrendered and accepted his fate.

”Then you’ll clean it.” Kiyoomi replied, and then flour covered his vision. Atsumu sputtered and tried to clean the amount of flower that had just entered his mouth. Kiyoomi cackled.

”I’m glad my misery is funny to you.” Atsumu deadpanned, but he couldn’t help cracking up with him. Kiyoomi grabbed a wipe from the bathroom shelf and wiped some of the flour off of Atsumu’s face. His breath hitched. He wiped most of the flour off his cheeks.

But as if Kiyoomi realized what he was doing, Kiyoomi hesitated the next second and placed the wipe in Atsumu’s hand.

“You do it…” Kiyoomi mumbled, and then grabbed a wipe of his own. Atsum’s heart race quickened, and soon he could hear his heart thumping in his chest.

Atsumu wiped off his face, and the two stayed in silence the whole time. When Atsumu’s face was rid of any white specs, he turned to Kiyoomi, who was watching him through the mirror. When he noticed Atsumu looking back at him, Kiyoomi cleared his throat and turned to Atsumu.

”Do you need to shower?” He asked.

”Definitely. Can ya get me some clothes, as well? I don’t think I can wear these.” He looked down at his clothes, his pants and maroon turtleneck stained with white.

Kiyoomi laughed. “Okay. give me your clothes when you're done, I’ll go wash them. I’ll knock on the door when I have your stuff.” Kiyoomi said over his shoulders, and then shut the door to the bathroom.

Atsumu took a thorough shower, trying to remove any leftover remnant of their previous flour fight. He scrubbed hard at his arms and legs, and then stood under the shower head with his face up, getting blasted by the water pressure. Kiyoomi knocked, and then dropped his clothes inside.

When Atsumu got the shower, he put on the t-shirt and thin sweatpants Kiyoomi gave him. They were different from the ones he received when he first came over to Kiyoomi’s apartment— this time, they seemed recently washed. Atsumu plopped his clothes in Kiyoomi’s laundry bin, and then Kiyoomi took them to his washing machine.

Atsumu settled on the couch, breathing in the smell of the snickerdoodle cookies baking in the oven. He looked over at the kitchen again. The evidence had been erased so well, that if he told anyone two guys fought each other with flour in that same room, they’d look at him like he was crazy. He smiled and thought about it again.

It was so childish that it was laughable. They were full-grown adults chasing each other down with flour in their hand and grins that rivaled the ones of supervillains. It all started with Atsumu flicking a pinch of flour at Kiyoomi. How idiotic, Atsumu thought.

When Kiyoomi returned, he was freshly showered and had different clothes on— a bright yellow t-shirt and navy blue shorts. He sat right next to Atsumu on the couch.

”What do you want to watch?” Kiyoomi looked over at Atsumu, who shrugged at him. Atsumu didn’t really care what was put on, as long as he got to watch it with Kiyoomi. Though, in regular Kiyoomi fashion, he frowned at Atsumu.

“Choose something.” Kiyoomi demanded.

Atsumu had an idea. “Ya like rom-coms?” Atsumu grinned.

“No.” Kiyoomi immediately shot down the idea. Atsumu pouted.

“Wait, but Omi, watching a rom-com and making fun of it is peak relationship development!” Atsumu threw his hands up like he made an undeniable point.

”Ew… okay. But if the main character does something cringey in the first 2 minutes, we’re switching the show. Got it?” Kiyoomi said. Atsumu nodded eagerly, and then switched to a show he watched a million times with his brother and his friends back in high school.

”Trust me, Omi, this is gonna be the best thing you’ve ever watched.” Atsumu stated. Kiyoomi only rolled his eyes.

Kiyoomi scoffed but settled into the couch. The premise of the show was a quiet girl falling for the playboy of their school, but she was convinced that he hated her even though the guy flirted with her every time they saw each other. The first two minutes, they had done something cringey— the main character falling on the playboy’s abs. Atsumu pointed at the screen and laughed at the female lead’s flustered face and the stupid pick-up lines. When he looked at Kiyoomi, he was all balled up and making a disgusted face at the TV screen. Atsumu cackled even harder.

10 minutes into the movie, the oven goes off. Atsumu jumped up and rushed to turn it off and let the cookies cool. He shoved on some mittens and opened the oven door. Kiyoomi paused the movie and got up after Atsumu.

”Okay, Omi. These are looking pretty good. Now, we gotta let ‘em cool for a bit.” Atsumu said, placing the tray on the counter and taking off the mittens he put on.

”For how long?” Kiyoomi asked.

”Like, maybe 2-5 minutes? Really, any time works, but whatever. Let’s go back to the movie.” Atsumu grabbed Kiyoomi’s wrist and brought him back to the couch. He glanced at the clock. It was currently 8 PM. It wasn’t the best time to continue watching a movie, but Atsumu shrugged it off and went back to the couch.

”We should probably go to sleep. We have practice tomorrow.” Kiyoomi followed Atsumu’s eyes to the clock, but he didn’t pull away from his grip on his arm.

”Yeah… but what about the cookies?” Atsumu asked. Kiyoomi just pursed his lips.

”Fine, but as soon as the movie turns off, we stop.” Kiyoomi consulted. Atsumu nodded eagerly.

“M’kay, Omi!” Atsumu preened, and then he jumped on his couch and bundled up in the throw blanket. Kiyoomi sat down next to him and grabbed the remote to turn the TV back on.

They played the movie for 5 minutes before Atsumu walked over to the cookies. He grabbed one of the sweets and took a bite. Atsumu held the bitten cookie in his left hand while he waltzed over to Kiyoomi with the plate of cookies in his right.

”These are delish.” Atsumu mused, and then placed the cookie platter in front of the two of them on the coffee table. Kiyoomi hesitantly picked one up and sniffed it.

“I didn’t poison it.” Atsumu laughed, some cookie crumbs shot out of his mouth. Kiyoomi’s face morphed into disgust for the second time that night while he watched the crumbs land on his floor. Atsumu was sure he was going to slaughter him on his hardwood floor, but Kiyoomi just sighed and then took a bite.

”You might’ve.” Kiyoomi said, but he took another bite of the cookie.

Atsumu scoffed and then proceeded with the show. They left off on the main character arguing with the male lead before storming off to her next class. Kiyoomi chuffed and Atsumu laughed. He finished his cookie and then turned to Kiyoomi, who’s mouth hung open like he wanted to say something.

”That guy is a brat, she can do so much better.” Kiyoomi finally settled on.

”Takes one to know one!” Atsumu quipped, then received a killer glare from Kiyoomi.

“You are so immature.” Kiyoomi retorted. Atsumu gave him a challenging look.

”Oh yeah? Says the one who poured flour on me.”

“You started it.”

”Only immature people say that.” Atsumu taunted.

“Touché.” Kiyoomi huffed. Atsumu smirked and then shifted his attention to the TV.

The show ended with the main character and the playboy getting over their petty arguments and finally going out together. Atsumu clapped for them while Kiyoomi didn’t do anything. When the credits finished rolling, Kiyoomi got up and put away the dishes. Atsumu stretched.

“Good night, Atsumu.” Kiyoomi said. He walked to his door while looking back at Atsumu, who was already walking towards the hallway to the guest bedroom.

“G’night, Omi!” Atsumu called, which received a subtle smile from Kiyoomi. He shut his door.

Atsumu smiled when he went to sleep.

The next day, Atsumu woke up before Kiyoomi. He tip-toed out of his room and grabbed a cookie for breakfast. They were pretty good, but would probably taste better with Kiyoomi.

He finished his cookie and borrowed some clothes from Kiyoomi’s closet— it’s not like he’d mind. Kiyoomi had been way more lenient with Atsumu these past days.

Atsumu went outside for his run. When he came back, Kiyoomi had just exited his room.

”Oh. G’morning, sleepyhead.” Atsumu teased, and then took off his shoes and placed them near Kiyoomi’s pair. “Hope ya don’t mind me taking some of your clothes.” Atsumu laughed when Kiyoomi just waved him off.

”Good morning, Atsumu.” Is all Kiyoomi had as a reply. He rubbed his eyes and stretched. ”How do you wake up so early?”

“I’m a morning person.” Atsumu replied. It was partially true. Atsumu was a morning person in the right conditions— if he went to bed feeling heavy with negative emotions, he’d sleep-in that day.

Kiyoomi hummed and then went to the bathroom. When he came out, he entered his room. Atsumu knew Kiyoomi wasn’t a morning person, but he didn’t know that he would be all quiet. Don’t get him wrong, Kiyoomi was always quiet, but this one was more of a sleepy-quiet.

When Kiyoomi exited his room, he had some shorts and a t-shirt on. He went over to the kitchen and prepared his meal. Atsumu watched him intently while waiting to leave.

”You can go, if you don’t want to wait.” Atsumu would’ve taken the offer if it was anyone else, but it was Kiyoomi, so of course he would wait.

”Nah. It’s all good. You’re almost done, anyway— oh yeah, can ya make me some as well?” He almost forgot about lunch. He was sure Kiyoomi was going to decline his offer and he’d have to get lunch from the vending machines or spend money on a place nearby, but then—

“Mhm.” Kiyoomi hummed and grabbed another egg from the freezer. It was weird. The scene that unfolded in front of him felt oddly domestic— it pulled on Atsumu’s heartstrings.

When they were all finished, they both put on their shoes and walked out the apartment building. Atsumu and Kiyoomi didn’t talk much on the walk— Atsumu didn’t want to disturb Kiyoomi, and he was sure that Kiyoomi didn’t want to talk, anyway.

They entered the gym building together, and Atsumu could immediately feel Shoyo’s eyes on them. Atsumu flashed him a small smile and then made his way over to the locker rooms with Kiyoomi.

The curly-haired man left before him, which wasn’t anything not expected for a grumpy and sleepy guy— especially if it was a Kiyoomi. Then, Shoyo walked in.

”Hey Sho—“ Atsumu was cut off.

”Are you guys dating?” Shoyo asks, not sparing Atsumu at all. Atsumu snapped his head towards Shoyo so hard he swore he saw white.

“What? No. I don’t know. Wait. No.” He stammered. Shoyo raised an eyebrow.

”I don’t know?” Shoyo eyed him and asked.

”No, we aren’t dating.” He clarified.

”Okay… but why are you walking in with each other?” Shoyo interrogated.

”Why does that immediately make ya think we’re dating?” Atsumu snapped back.

“I thought you guys didn’t like each other.” Shoyo explained.

”Well, we hung out because of the whole... ya know.” Atsumu waved him off. Shoyo didn’t give up, though.

”Yeah, but now you guys are like, super close.” Shoyo put his hands on his hips. Atsumu squinted at him. Why was he making such a big deal out of this? Why can’t he just accept the fact that he and Kiyoomi became friends?

“Uh huh. You think I don’t know that?” Atsumu scoffed. He’s the one hanging out with him, of course he knows that they got close. He bent down to tie his shoelaces.

”Maybe.” Shoyo said, and then walked out. Atsumu was left stunned. The locker room, which usually felt like a safe haven for Atsumu, now felt a little bit odd. The blue lockers lined up across the walls felt suffocating. Atsumu’s head spun. How could he just come in here and say that? Why was Shoyo so concerned, anyway? He literally suggested Kiyoomi, and now he’s surprised Kiyoomi and him are friends?

Before he could dwell on it a bit more, his phone vibrated. He reached over to his bag and grabbed his phone from the side pocket. The screen was lit up, and a message from his brother appeared on his lock screen.

’Wanna have dinner next week? On me.’ It read. Astumu opened up his phone and scrolled to the chat. His last message he sent was on top of the new one that his brother sent.

Atsumu typed back a response: ‘sureeee I have to check in with someone, tho.’

His brother sent him another message, but he pocketed his phone in his gym bag and placed it in his locker. He went through practice not thinking of the message, or the fact that Shoyo was acting weird— staring at him and Kiyoomi like zoo animals—, or how Kiyoomi and Atsumu had a newfound trust between them on the court, or how he really wanted to spend more time with sleepy Kiyoomi.

A week later, Atsumu met Osamu for dinner at his brother’s restaurant. restaurant. It had been a while since they last saw each other— if a month counted as ‘long’. Atsumu sat across from him at a counter that acted as a barrier between the actual restaurant and the kitchen.

“So, how have ya been?” Osamu asked, sliding a plate of his brother’s favorite tuna onigiri his way. Atsumu preened.

“Just the usual, practicing, charmin’ everyone with my smile, ya know.” Osamu scoffed and rolled his eyes. He took the seat across from Atsumu.

“You’re not mad at me, right?” Osamu asked, unusually quiet.

“Nah, why would I be mad?” Atsumu surprised himself with how genuine he was being, because it was true. He wasn’t mad— he was actually far from that. Everything he gained from this experience was worth it; he got Kiyoomi.

“Oh.” Osamu’s shoulders went taut, and then he sighed. “That’s good.”

“Ya thought I would be mad?” Atsumu laughed, and took another bite of his onigiri. The comforting salty flavors greeted his mouth with a chaste kiss. He smiled into his food.

“Ya should be— ya sounded mad over call, dunno what you’re planning.” Osamu shifted in his seat. He was definitely thinking about something, Atsumu could tell from his pinched eyebrows, and how he was staring down at his plate of food.

“I’m not planning anything.” Atsumu said. It was a lie— Atsumu was planning a lot, actually, but it felt like the truth. The line between him and Kiyoomi was blurred. Atsumu couldn’t really tell if they were just faking, or if they were actually more— he stopped himself there. They weren’t anything more, right?

Osamu gave him another look, and then switched the subject. But even with him talking and laughing with his brother, he couldn’t help but think of him and Kiyoomi. Atsumu brushed it off.

After that, Atsumu kept noticing things about Kiyoomi. He was suddenly hyper aware of everything Kiyoomi did around him. For instance, the way he would hold a hot drink. When Atsumu and Kiyoomi went to another cafe, Kiyoomi would shift his coffee from hand to hand. Atsumu was compelled by the swift way his hands would move.

Then, it became counting moles on his body. When he would stare at his hands, Atsumu noticed the sheer amount of models scattered around Kiyoomi. The constellations of black dots that would be splattered across his arms and legs, like a paintbrush being tapped over him. When Atsumu sat next to Kiyoomi at a bar, he counted the moles on his hands and wrists— 7 on his left, and 5 on his right.

He wouldn’t only observe his hands. Atsumu would also look Kiyoomi up and down— he would make note of what he was dressed in, his posture, how he moved, everything like that. Kiyoomi was shorter than Atsumu when he was sitting because he slouched, but when he was standing he would be as straight as a ruler. When he would pull out a ball from the heap of volleyballs in a bin, Atsumu would stare at the way his hands warped around the yellow and blue volleyball.

On their walks, Atsumu noticed the way Kiyoomi would stride across the sidewalk. He meticulously kept one foot outside the lines and one foot on the crack. His bag would be secure on one of his broad shoulders, never even thinking of sliding down.

After that, Atsumu would watch Kiyoomi eat his food at their daily dinners together. At first, Kiyoomi would tilt his food around to analyze if there were any specs of dirt or anything that could contaminate his food. Then, he would take a hesitant first bite. If it was something he liked, he would relax after he swallowed. If he didn’t like it, his nose would scrunch and he would reluctantly digest it.

Or, finally, when he would do acts of service for Kiyoomi— small things, like opening the door and such—, Kiyoomi would hit him with an unreadable expression that Atsumu had always been stumped with. His eyes would look like a pool of black ink; Atsumu would get sucked in like quicksand. His lips would form a small ‘o’, and Atsumu’s eyes would linger on his pink lips that looked oh-so soft.

When Atsumu walked back home— a week after his lunch with his brother—, he realized that his constant staring was getting weird. Atsumu noticed Kiyoomi everywhere. So he decided to divert from his usual schedule and take a different approach to this problem.

When he met Kiyoomi in the locker rooms, Kiyoomi was looking at Atsumu with an expectant expression. Atsumu sighed.

”Hey, Omi. I’m gonna head straight home today.” Atsumu said.

Kiyoomi’s face changed— something a bit disappointed. He pursed his lips. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked.

”Nah, I just don’t feel up for dinner tonight.” Atsumu opened the door for Kiyoomi, and they headed to the exit together. Kiyoomi’s expression changed to something a bit worried, he scanned Atsumu up and down.

”Okay… are you feeling alright?” Kiyoomi inquired.

”Yup.” Atsumu popped the p, “I’m just tired, is all. Don’t worry yer pretty little head about me.” Atsumu teased.

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes— but there was no malice behind it— and they walked out the gym together. No one talked for most of their walk, but Atsumu could tell that Kiyoomi took multiple glances at him.

Kiyoomi looked up at Atsumu for the nth time, and Atsumu spoke up.

“Omi. I’m not made of glass, I’m just tired.” Atsumu met his eyes and assured him. Kiyoomi bit his lip.

”If you say so…” Kiyoomi mumbled, but it was obvious that he was still concerned.

”Omi. I’m fine.” Atsumu said sternly.

”I know, but even when you’re tired, you still stay over. I’m just trying to figure out what’s different.” Kiyoomi explained. His shoulders remained tense— so tense it looked like he wanted to squeeze into a cardboard box and get shipped to Antarctica.

“Nothing’s different, Omi. I’m just ready to sleep.” Atsumu internally laughed at Kiyoomi’s expression— he looked like a kicked puppy. However, his words seemed to calm him, because Kiyoomi sighed and his shoulders relaxed.

“Okay.” He pouted.

”Omi, we quite literally have dinner every day. You’re gonna be fine.” Atsumu smiled. He nudged Kiyoomi when they reached his apartment. Kiyoomi looked at Atsumu with an unreadable expression— the one that had been on his mind. Atsumu waved at Kiyoomi, and watched as he disappeared through the door.

Atsumu walked away from his house with that expression on his mind. When he was observing Kiyoomi— gosh, that sounds so weird—, he kept on seeing the same small ‘o’ of his lips and the black river of his eyes, swirling with emotion. It only came up when they both smiled at each other after a big burst of laughter, or when Atsumu would offer Kiyoomi hand sanitizer, or when— okay, the point it, Atsumu saw it a lot, and it freaked him out because he had no idea what it meant.

He’s never seen anyone else get the same look— actually, Atsumu never saw it before this. Kiyoomi had been an enigma before this— always swooning and brooding. Atsumu tried to steer clear of him because of it, but look what he became.

Atsumu entered his apartment and went over to his counter where he stored all his incense sticks. He picked his favorite one and lit it up. Lavender— a familiar scent. It reminded him of Kiyoomi. When they’d stand next to each other at gatherings or at practice, the scent of lavender clung to Kiyoomi’s skin. His soaps always smelled like lavender. Atsumu inhaled it so much that lavender became normal, even though he’d personally leaned towards more gourmand scents—

A memory flashed through his mind from last night. He’d brushed it off before, but it came rushing back to him. Full force.

“Why do ya smell like lavender? I thought ya liked vanilla things more.” Osamu inquired.

“I guess I’ve been hangin’ around Omi too much.” Atsumu laughed. Osamu gave him a hard look. Atsumu didn’t know why Osamu narrowed his eyes at him and pursed his lips. That was his thinking face— gosh, why was everyone looking at him like he was planning something?

”Kiyoomi? Like, Sakusa Kiyoomi?” He asked. He put down his food— something he never did— and stared into Atsumu’s soul. He’d only do that when Atsumu lied about eating one of Osamu’s favorite chips from his secret stash of snacks— he loved his snacks.

”Yeah.” Atsumu giggled once more and took a bite out of his onigiri.

Hanging around Kiyoomi. Atsumu, hanging around Kiyoomi. Atsumu’s thoughts whirled in his mind. His brain felt as if it destroyed itself and reconstructed it from the ashes, rewiring and rearranging. Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi.

He dug through his memory, everything that went on with Kiyoomi before this. The —genuine and warm— laughs, the —touching and deep—late-night talks, the —quiet and soft—walks home. They weren’t just laughs, or talks, or walks. Kiyoomi didn’t laugh that loud for anybody else. Not his unruly, snorting, chortling laugh. Kiyoomi didn't talk about his feelings with his other teammates— he’d throw a snarky remark at them and then walk away. Kiyoomi never walked home with other people. He would be the first to leave the gym— but now they were the last.

All the moments he spent with Kiyoomi weren't just moments. They were everything. They were true.

Atsumu blinked at the ceiling again, his limbs were sprawled out across the couch.

Everything. True.

Those words reverberated through his mind. What were those words he shared with Kiyoomi and all the time they spent together: walking, talking, laughing, sharing, breathing, looking.

What were those moments to Atsumu?

What was Kiyoomi to Atsumu?

Everything. Was his first thought.

Kiyoomi was, well, everything.

I’m in love with Kiyoomi. Was his next thought.

It all made sense. The warm feeling in his stomach when he left Kiyoomi’s apartment. The ease of their conversations. His quiet appearance in his schedule, and how accepting Atsumu was of it. The imprint Kiyoomi made on his heart. The tugs. Everything. It all clicked into place.

He’s in love with Kiyoomi. Atsumu loved him. He loved Kiyoomi and his scowls, his glares, his taunting remarks and his teasing smiles. He’s in love with his bluntness, his bratty personality, the way he would scrunch his nose up and send a back-shivering stare at everyone around him. He was in love with his cleanliness and his pickiness. Atsumu was also in love with his breathy laugh, his soul-sucking pupils, his soft and comforting smiles, the way he looked at Atsumu. He loved his spontaneous gift-buying and his stupid ‘date’ ideas. He was in love with all of him; down to his skin and bone. Atsumu has never felt any better.

The rest of his night went simply, with three things weighing on his mind.

One: Atsumu is in love with Kiyoomi.

Two: Atsumu knows exactly how he wants to confess.

Three: Atsumu hopes that Kiyoomi will accept.

Even when he woke up, those things were the only things on his mind. Atsumu knew how he wanted to tell him, and he knew how he would act if Kiyoomi reciprocated those feelings or if he didn’t— both were fine with Atsumu. However, he really prayed that he would get a good ending.

If Kiyoomi accepted, Atsumu would smile like an idiot. If he didn’t, Atsumu would apologize, and they’d play out the rest of their fake-date stunt in peace.

Atsumu would confess like this: practice would play out normally, and then they’d walk back home normally. Everything would be normal, so Kiyoomi doesn’t suspect a thing. After that, Atsumu would open up on Kiyoomi’s couch and tell him how he felt about him. The ending depends on Kiyoomi’s decision.

However, this didn’t happen.

During practice, Atsumu was elated, but he was fidgety. His eyes would wander to Kiyoomi and then he’d stare for half a minute before realizing that he looks like an idiot and almost everyone can see him making heart eyes at his fake-boyfriend— for example, Shoyo.

In the middle of practice, Atsumu was stretching with Shoyo next to him telling him a story. Atsumu nodded along half-heartedly. His eyes wandered to Kiyoomi, who was warming up in the corner, hitting some tosses set up by their other teammate. He marveled at the sight— Kiyoomi jumping up and bending his wrists to hit the ball. How he landed gracefully and watched the ball slam down on the court— ricocheting off the floor and heading to a completely different direction (courtesy of his hypermobile wrists).

Shoyo cleared his throat. Atsumu’s head shot up and jumped out of his position. He glared at Shoyo, his face flushed— Atsumu won’t deny it. He was being pretty obvious.

“You’re staring, Atsumu.” Shoyo raised an eyebrow. Atsumu avoided his eyes.

”Nah, I’m just admiring a good player.” Atsumu clarified.

”Does that good player happen to be 6 '4, have hypermobile wrists, plays outside hitter, has black curly hair, has the number 15 on court, also happen to be the one you’re practically drooling at?” Shoyo sat up from his stretch and scrutinized Atsumu’s reddened face.

”What— no. Not at all, why— why would I be looking at Kiyoomi out of all people?” Atsumu stammered. Shoyo scoffed and looked Atsumu dead in the eye. He sometimes forgot how scary Shoyo can be.

Shoyo smiled, but it wasn’t warm at all. It vaguely reminded him of Osamu’s ‘I told you so’ face, but in lip form. “It’s okay to get caught, Atsumu.” He said, and then got up to get a ball from the cart at the end of the gym. Atsumu gawked.

The next time he slipped up was when he was setting up some tosses for the team to practice hitting. Koutarou threw him a ball, but Atsumu couldn’t help but look at Kiyoomi, who was tying his shoe nearby. He stared at the way Kiyoomi bent down, how his head was slightly tilted to the ground, how his curls covered half his head, and musing at how godly he looked while doing anything.

He ended up barely missing the ball Koutarou sent his way, but he still sent a really bad toss to Koutarou. Instead of his usual ‘no spin and float mid-air’ sets, the ball he set up for Koutarou was spinning and really low for him. Koutarou still hit it, but when he landed on the ground, he frowned at Atsumu.

”Tsum-tsum, what was that?” By the time he finished saying this, Kiyoomi was already up and waiting for Koutarou to be done— thank goodness Kiyoomi didn’t see that. Atsumu internally sighed in relief.

“Uh. Sorry, I got a little distracted.” Atsumu rubbed the back of his neck. “Let me give ya another one.” He said, but Koutarou didn’t look satisfied. Still he grabbed another ball and tossed it Atsumu’s way.

Another time he got distracted was with the man, the myth, the legend himself, Sakusa Kiyoomi.

They were eating lunch together— like they have been doing for a month and a half—, and Kiyoomi was retelling a story of him at University. While Atsumu was listening, he noticed the grain of rice on Kiyoomi’s check. He had a strong urge to pick it off, so he did. He reached forward and pinched it off, then watched as it fell off his finger. When he turned back, Kiyoomi was watching him.

”Atsumu?” He questioned.

”Oh. Sorry, I just noticed that. It was annoying me.” Atsumu felt himself shrink under Kiyoomi’s gaze.

“Are you okay?” Kiyoomi raised an eyebrow.

”Yeah—”

“Don’t lie to me, Atsumu. You missed a bunch of tosses today, and you keep staring off into the distance while daydreaming.” Kiyoomi accused. Atsumu puffed.

”I’m okay. I’ll— I’ll tell you later.” Atsumu looked back at his food.

“Sure…” Kiyoomi said, but he didn’t seem too convinced.

Later that evening, Atsumu and Kiyoomi were walking back to Kiyoomi’s apartment. The night was cool and the neighborhood was silent. Trees rustled in the subtle breeze. Even with everything being so calm, Atsumu could feel his heart jackrabbiting in his rib cage. He felt unusually warm, and it wasn’t because of June weather.

Atsumu learned his lesson, he wouldn’t try to stare at Kiyoomi. This time, Kiyoomi led the conversations, and Atsumu would listen. He would listen and look down and act distant. However, Kiyoomi, being ever perceptive, caught on to Atsumu’s difference in behavior.

”Are you okay?” Kiyoomi asked, his brows furrowed.

“Yeah! Yeah. I’m alright.” Atsumu’s flashed Kiyoomi a weary smile. Kiyoomi chuffed and narrowed his eyes.

“You aren’t the best liar.” Kiyoomi said— more like he lied. Atsumu was a great liar! He’s lied about many things; he’s lied about way too many things for him to be a bad liar. The only people who can tell that he’s lying are his mother and Osamu— Kiyoomi might be added to that list. ”You said you would tell me something later, what was it?”

“Maybe during dinner…” Atsumu muttered.

”Atsumu.”

”What? I just don’t feel like now is a good time to say it.” Atsumu threw his arms in front of him and motioned to the sidewalk in front of them. Kiyoomi just huffed and pouted. Atsumu softened.

He would soften at anything Kiyoomi did. Push his curls out of his eyes? Atsumu would tilt his head on his hand and watch lovingly. Scowl at someone— especially him? Atsumu would practically melt at the sight. Pout—specifically pout? Atsumu would sigh fondly and have the sudden urge to kiss the pout off of Kiyoomi’s face. Gosh, Atsumu was so whipped— with sprinkles and a cherry on top.

The dinner should have been great, it should’ve been perfect actually. The smoked salmon and rice balls were cooked with precision and love, and their sweet aroma filled the air. Atsumu would’ve gobbled it all up without hesitation, if it wasn’t for Kiyoomi’s gray eyes burning holes into the top of his head. Atsumu was afraid to look up, terrified of the gentle eyes he would inevitably gaze upon. Oh my. God could take Atsumu out right now and he wouldn’t complain.

After about 35 minutes of complete silence, save for the horrible screeching of Atsumu’s fork being dragged aimlessly around his plate, Kiyoomi abruptly stood up and declared, “Let’s go sit on the couch. Thanks for…,” he blushed, “...the food.”

Atsumu watched as his plump lips moved around his words, mesmerized by the beauty marks that framed his jaw. He hastily agreed, as he couldn’t survive another minute of the short, meaningless conversations they were having. Sadly, they couldn’t escape the silence, and it followed them over to the living room. Truthfully, Atsumu could say something, say anything really, but that would mean he would have to talk. To this beautiful, gorgeous man. Atsumu worked up the courage to try and murmur some idiotic joke, but as he glanced up at Kiyoomi, he saw that he was already looking at him. Jesus, take the wheel.

After another minute, Kiyoomi sighed.

“What’s with you today?” Kiyoomi confided.

”I think I’m in love with ya.” Atsumu blurted. He lifted his head to meet Kiyoomi’s piercing gaze.

Silence.

”I’m in love with ya, Kiyoomi.” He enunciated. “I’m in love with ya, all of ya, everything, to your skin and bone. And I know this is stupid— who falls in love with their fake-date? Ya know? But still Kiyoomi, I love ya.” He breathed in and out. His heart and mind raced with every second that passed.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi gawked at Atsumu. “I— what?”

“Kiyoomi. I. Love. Ya,” he continued, “I love ya. I love the way ya make me feel, the racing in my heart, the fondness from your smile, the way I can make ya laugh. I love your scowls, glares, pouts, stupid raised eyebrows, the way ya make a joke with your stupid dry humor. I love how ya look at me, the way you make me feel, how you make me feel— seen, loved, you make me feel like everything I didn’t know I needed. And I didn’t! I needed ya, Kiyoomi. I love ya, so, so, so much.” Atsumu jabbered.

Kiyoomi scoffed, “You’re so stupid.” He grumbled.

”What?” Atsumu responded, incredulous.

In a flash, Kiyoomi pinned Atsumu to the couch.

“You thought that was good? Atsumu, I love you too—“

”Wait, really—“

”Shut up. Atsumu, I love you so much.— I think I’ve liked you since high school. But, I love you. Everything about you. From your stupid yellow-blonde hair that makes me so angry to your enraging smirk that you flash at everyone every two seconds. I love your annoyingly good intuition and the fact that you can read me like a book. The way you looked at my family, Atsumu, made me so, so happy. The way you suck at lying— don’t try denying it, I can tell—, and how you stutter when you're flustered or how you run a hand through your hair at every trouble that comes your way. You make me go crazy, Atsumu. You and your stupid self.” Kiyoomi croaked.

”Were you confessing to me or insulting me?” Atsumu laughed.

“It’s up for interpretation.” Kiyoomi said, and then bent down to kiss him.

The kiss was chaste and sweet, laced with all the affection Atsumu built up for the man on top of him. When they parted ways, Atsumu looked at Kiyoomi like he hung the stars in the sky.

”Kiyoomi.”

”Atsumu.”

Atsumu reached forward and hugged him. Kiyoomi wrapped his arms around Atsumu’s waist, while Atsumu buried his face in Kiyoomi’s neck. The hug was warm in every right way possible— like a hug that healed all the parts of love that Atsumu felt so strained on. He watched his brother and his best friend dance around each other for years. He had to deal with the guilt of his parents never having an official wedding because of him. Kiyoomi did that— he helped Atsumu in every way he didn’t know was possible. Atsumu smiled.

”Osamu’s gonna have a field day when he hears about this.” Atsumu said.

”So we won’t tell him.” Kiyoomi said, placing a kiss on the side of Atsumu’s head.

”That’s like telling me not to play volleyball, Omi!” Atsumu whined, and Kiyoomi chuckled.

That night, he fell asleep in Kiyoomi’s bed, smiling and giggling with him. Talking about his feelings with him; telling him about his realization, about his adoration, about everything he buried into the back of his mind.

He opened his eyes to a sleeping Kiyoomi— hair all messed with and snoring softly, with his blankets up to his neck. Atsumu’s heart disintegrated at the sight. His eyes crinkled and he inched closer to Kiyoomi— missing one run won’t harm anyone, right? When Atsumu was pressed against his side, he finally closed his eyes and slipped back into sleep.

Atsumu woke up when Kiyoomi moved against him. He opened his eyes to see Kiyoomi— but not sleeping this time. The man next to him was upright and rubbed his eyes. Atsumu smiled and sat up next to him.

”G’morning, Omi-Omi.” Atsumu mumbled, and then nestled to his side.

“You didn’t go on your walk.” Kiyoomi whispered.

”Of course not, you’re here with me.” Atsumu preened.

Kiyoomi just stared and smiled.

”Ya know, we have a month till my parents’ wedding. Should we tell Osamu?”

“If you feel like it.” Kiyoomi slid off the blanket and stood up. When he noticed Atsumu frowning at him, he sighed put his hand out for Atsumu to grab.

Atsumu snatched the hand with his own and wrapped his fingers around his bony hand. Kiyoomi pulled Atsumu off the bed with a grunt. Atsumu got up beside Kiyoomi, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Kiyoomi puffed.

”Didn’t know you were so clingy.” He complained.

”A miscalculation on your part.” Atsumu laughed. Kiyoomi huffed and walked away. Atsumu followed suit.

The rest of the days leading up to the wedding was a blur. Atsumu and Kiyoomi got closer. He met more of Kiyoomi’s relatives, and Kiyoomi met Atsumu’s father— who also ended up loving him, which Atsumu wasn’t surprised about.

This is how he told Osamu about him and Kiyoomi:

”Ya know, me and Omi are actually dating.” Atsumu confessed over dinner. It was just him and Osamu. They were at his shared apartment with Rintaro, who was currently away for a team-bonding experience. The lights were dim, giving his kitchen an ambience that vaguely reminded him of the home-alone days he and Osamu spent during their teenage years— those days, he would spill everything to Osamu. He would tell Osamu about school drama, his favorite after school snack, who he thought was cute, volleyball related stuff, and even his secrets.

”Not surprised.” Osamu deadpanned while taking a sip of his apple juice. However, Atsumu wasn’t even offended or anything. His brother saw through him every moment.

”Did Rin tell ya anything?” Atsumu asked, but he knew the answer. He didn’t spill anything to Motoya, and he was sure that Kiyoomi didn’t say anything, either. They wanted to keep their relationship secret until they thought it was an appropriate time to shift from fake-boyfriends to real ones.

”Nah, I could tell. When ya mentioned him last time, I could see the smile in your eyes.” Osamu shrugged. Atsumu laughed.

“He was actually my fake-boyfriend.” That’s when Osamu choked on his food.

”Your what?” Osamu stared at Atsumu like he had grown a second head.

”I was gonna use him to one-up ya with Rin. Who knew it would turn out like this.” Atsumu said, and then took another bite of his food.

”I knew you were planning something!” Osamu exclaimed. He dropped his chopsticks and pointed at Atsumu.

“Welp.” Atsumu chuckled. When Osamu was done gawking at him, they both smiled. It was one of those sibling moments— being happy for each other. Even though they went in their separate directions, even when they took a different approach to romance, even when they were two completely different people that were raised under the same roof and share the same last name and know everything about one another.

A couple hours later, Osamu and Atsumu were spilling secrets to each other on Osamu’s couch— just like they did back then. They smiled, frowned, threw taunts at each other, exclaimed and gasped at every little detail that surprised them, and just felt like it was before— when they were young and didn’t know much. When they would rely on each other for everything. When they promised they would be together forever. When they looked at each other across the dining table— hair freshly dyed and about to enter their second year of high school— realizing that they were two different people.

Suna returned to the apartment. He greeted Osamu with a kiss— Atsumu made a gagging noise—, and waved at Atsumu. Suna sat down next to Osamu and listened to their conversation.

When Atsumu mentioned to Suna that he was dating Kiyoomi, he just sighed ‘I already know’ he said, and then ‘It was all Motoya could talk about. He kept complaining that you guys were already dating for a month and he wasn’t aware until then’. Osamu laughed, and Atsumu smiled.

A week before his mother’s wedding, Atsumu stayed over at Kiyoomi’s to help him pack. Kiyoomi was a mess— he was so confused on what to bring, and he had no idea what to expect. Atsumu assured him that he was going to be fine, and even went over the wedding’s schedule multiple times to calm him down. It warmed his heart to know that Kiyoomi cared as much as Atsumu did.

They went through his closet and found multiple cute and formal shirts that would be nice enough that it wouldn’t look casual, but also short enough that he wouldn’t be sweltering under the blazing sun of July. Atsumu chose some loose fitting dress shirts and a couple pairs of nice pants for Kiyoomi to wear.

When they had all his things packed, Atsumu grinned at Kiyoomi, who was visibly less nervous. He reassured him that everything would be okay— his parents adore Kiyoomi, anyway.

The car ride to the resort was calming. The two of them chatted while Kiyoomi drove and Atsumu rolled his window down so that the wind could blast in his face.

When they got there, they were welcomed by Atsumu’s relatives. Hugs and greetings were exchanged. He tightly hugged his parents, and then laughed with his cousins. Kiyoomi stuck by his side through all of it.

Him and Kiyoomi got their hotel room by noon. The room was warm and spacious. There was one white bed with a blue and green patterned blanket spread across the bottom. The headboard was dark and was decorated with a blue wave design at the bottom. In front of the bed was a TV placed on top of a dresser with three drawers, and right next to that was a table with an office chair. Kiyoomi and Atsumu set their bags down on the table, and while Atsumu went straight to the bathroom to tour the room, Kiyoomi unpacked some of their items.

The bathroom was also large. It has a shower-tub and a big vanity. The mirror was bordered with lights that had adjustable luminosity. Atsumu played around with the settings until Kiyoomi peaked from the doorway, barely appearing in the mirror.

”Heya, Omi.” Atsumu turned to him and preened. Kiyoomi just scoffed and walked inside behind Atsumu.

”Does the soap smell good?” He asked, so Atsumu grabbed the bar of soap that was packaged in plastic wrap.

”You smell.” Atsumu opened the plastic and shoved the bar near Kiyoomi’s nose. He bent forward and sniffed it,

”It smells like every other soap at hotels.” Kiyoomi critiqued. Atsumu giggled and put it down on the tray set up specifically for the soap.

”Is that a good thing?” Atsumu asked, and then grabbed Kiyoomi’s arms to wrap around his waist.

”It’s alright, but the hotel gets another point because they use Dove.” Kiyoomi pointed at the bottles near the edge of the counter, which all read ‘Dove’ in cursive letters. “This hotel room gets an 8 out of ten, but because this was set up by your parents it’s an automatic 10 out of 10.” Kiyoomi dug his head into Atsumu's neck. Atsumu chuckled.

The next day, it was the wedding rehearsal, Atsumu bawled around 6 times, and then buried his head into Kiyoomi’s chest back at their hotel room while telling Kiyoomi all about his parents and how in love they were. Kiyoomi laughed and listened to everything he had to say, even when he was sobbing in between words and laughing at his own stupidity. Kiyoomi made him feel loved.

The next day, he ate breakfast with Osamu, Rintaro, and Kiyoomi. The resort offered delicious chocolate-chip pancakes that he and Osamu got seconds of every time, and also had the freshest apple juice Atsumu has ever tasted.

Atsumu and Kiyoomi explored the resort together, they went from running down the halls and taking morning walks outside. They would admire the greenery and gaze at the sunrise. They would also walk down random paths that would lead them to the cutest spaces. One time, they took a stone path down a hill to reach a beautiful garden of different flowers like dahlias and roses. There were arch trellises that were adorned with vines. Atsumu convinced Kiyoomi to take a photo of them in the middle. Then, he told his parents about the spot so they could take pictures of their own.

The next day, his parents had a hiking trip planned— they loved hiking. Atsumu and Kiyoomi geared up before meeting with their family to drive over to a mountain trail and explore the vast terrain. When they set foot on the trail, everyone planned on staying together, but in the middle of it, people began splitting up to take photos or traverse the mountains. His parents sighed before telling everyone to meet back at the van before sundown. Everyone nodded and left.

Atsumu and Kiyoomi stopped at a ledge. It was an overgrown cliff with a path carved between the large patches of overgrown grass and weeds. Atsumu and Kiyoomi took a photo together at the edge before leaving to walk around even more.

”I used to go on hikes all the time.” Atsumu said while climbing uphill with Kiyoomi by his side.

”Really? You look pretty tired just from this.” Kiyoomi teased. Atsumu glared at him.

”It’s 89 degrees, whaddya expect?” Atsumu grunted.

“You’re so easy to rile up.” Kiyoomi laughed, and Atsumu just scowled.

They explored the mountains even more, appreciating the beautiful views and nature. They even managed to spot a deer and take a photo of it.
Turns out, all the hiking he did as a kid proved to be handy, because even as a professional athlete, Kiyoomi wasn’t able to keep up.

“And you doubted me?” Atsumu taunted and raised an eyebrow at Kiyoomi, who was a step behind Atsumu.

”It’s not my fault that the city doesn’t have any hills to climb.” Kiyoomi huffed. Atsumu laughed at his annoyed expression and continued walking in front.

”What’s after today?” Kiyoomi asked.

“More wedding rehearsals. Then we go to the beach!” Atsumu exclaimed and threw his arms up.

Kiyoomi sighed, “I’m going to be so sore.”

The morning after, Atsumu had to drag Kiyoomi out of the bed. His head was down and he kept begging Atsumu to stay inside.

Kiyoomi argued, “I don’t want to go to rehearsals… can’t you handle going without me?” Atsumu frowned, but he didn’t say anything back. He just sighed and kissed Kiyoomi on the head.

“Fine, but ya better be up before I come back.” Atsumu compromised.

”I can’t make any promises.” Is all Kiyoomi said before dozing right back to sleep. Atsumu chuckled and put on one of his dress shirts and nice pants before going downstairs for breakfast.

After the second wedding rehearsal, Atsumu didn’t have any more tears to shed. He came back to his hotel room with his head up high. He opened the door to see a very tired Kiyoomi on his phone with a cup of coffee in his hand.

”Where’d ya get the coffee?”” Atsumu asked while he looked at his watch. It was well over the time frame to get coffee.

”I woke up 30 minutes after you woke me up. I just went down and got coffee, but I never picked it up until now.” Kiyoomi explained, and then Atsumu scoffed.

”Okay, ya sleepyhead. Do ya still wanna go to the beach with us?” Atsumu closed the door behind him and walked over to Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi hummed in response and took another swig of his coffee. Atsumu hugged him from behind.

When they put on their swimming attire— a t-shirt and some swimming trunks—, Atsumu got their sunblock from his bag and some extra pairs of clothes before meeting up with his family.

This time, instead of breaking up into groups, their family stayed together. When they got to the beach, all of them set up their towels and squashed their stuff together. His nephews and nieces all bundled together and played in the ocean, while the adults stood near the bar. Atsumu dragged Kiyoomi out to the beach where Osamu and Rintaro were talking. Atsumu snuck up on Osamu by grabbing his nephew’s bucket, filling it with water and dumping it over Osamu’s head.

“What the he— Tsumu!” Osamu roared, and then got up to tackle Atsumu. Rintaro grabbed his phone and started to record the situation while Kiyoomi stared in horror. When he successfully pinned Atsumu to the ground, Rintaro handed Osamu a bucket of water.

”Rin! Ya traitor!” Atsumu yelped as the water rushed on his face.

“It was your mistake for even thinking I was on your side in the first place.” Rintaro deadpanned and held his phone in front of him while he smirked. Kiyoomi looked at Atsumu with an amused expression.

”Omi!” Atsumu called.

”You did this to yourself. I told you this wasn’t a good idea.” Osamu and Rintaro laughed while Atsumu whined and squirmed under Osamu’s grip.

Atsumu hit his brother in his groin and rolled away. He got up and went into the water. Rintaro stepped back as if knowing what he was going to do next. When Osamu was done curling up from the pain, he cursed Atsumu and chased after him in the water. Atsumu splashed him with water.

They broke out in a full-blown water fight. They splashed water and fought dirty against each other. Atsumu’s eyes were stinging from the salt water getting inside, but if he closed his eyes for even a second he would be defeated by Osamu. He continued to hit Atsumu with waves. He didn’t even bother to come up with snarky comments. The only noise between them were grunts and the crashing of waves.

His nieces and nephews caught wind of the battle and joined in. Some of them went so far as teaming up against Osamu and Atsumu as a whole. He was getting hit from all angles, and so was Osamu. He looked at his brother, who had long given up on fighting Atsumu to attack the kids. Atsumu joined forces with his brother to retaliate against them.

One of the kids even hit Rintaro, who had his phone out. He chuffed when some of the water got on his phone, and then ran away and came back with water guns. Atsumu saw him return, and then saw him jump in the water and start spraying the children. They screamed and shrieked. The three laughed.

Kiyoomi joined in after Atsumu was hit in the back of his head by a seashell. He splashed the kid who hit him, and then submerged himself in the water. He would nudge the legs of his unsuspecting niblings and watch as they’d scream about a fish touching their leg. Atsumu would cackle as they would look down and realize it was just Atsumu’s loving and devoted boyfriend.

When the three of them were done terrorizing the children— more like the kids stopped terrorizing them—, they went back to the bar for some drinks.

”That drained all my energy.” Rintaro took a long sip of his coconut water.

”Ya could say that again…” Atsumu mumbled while he grabbed the mocktail that had been passed to him by the bartender. He gave him a thanks and drank half of it in one go.

”Your family is quite energetic.” Kiyoomi commented.

Osamu groaned. ”Don’t get me started on those kids, they’re demons.” He dragged his hand over his face. All of them laughed.

After a couple more days of wedding preparations, photo shoots, exploring the resort, and spontaneous trips to a cafe nearby, it was finally time for the real deal. The actual wedding ceremony.

The venue was ethereal, to say the least. He’s seen it before— his mother and father wanted to show and tour every single venue option they had, and that included showing the twins for their opinion. It was an open field crowded with flowers and tall grass. The floral wedding arbor was placed thoughtfully near a lone tree. The wedding colors were soft yellow, white, and pastel purple. Those colors complimented the greenery that surrounded the venue. It was perfect.

Even though he’s seen it before, Atsumu was blinded by how pretty the whole thing was. The egg yolk-colored sun casted sunlight on the place; it created a wonderful atmosphere. It could’ve been the heat, or the fact that he attended such an important event with someone Atsumu’s loves, or the fact that his parents are smiling at each other like they’ve created the universe itself, but Atsumu was blazing inside. He felt overjoyed.

Atsumu was a flower boy, and his twin was the ring bearer. He was clad in a deep purple—almost black— suit with yellow flowers peeking out from his pocket, and his brother had the same colored suit on, this time with different colored flowers in the slit of his suit. Atsumu was smiling with tears crowding his eyes. He glanced at Kiyoomi, who was wearing a black suit and sitting in the back rows of the chairs lined up in front of the altar. He was looking back at Atsumu. He smirked when he saw how teary-eyed Atsumu was.

Atsumu had a basket of flowers in his hand while walking down the aisle. He threw petals on each side. When he was done, he watched as each yellow, white, and purple petal fell to the ground. He smiled towards the audience when he was done.

The processional: Atsumu shed a couple tears when he saw his mother walk down to his father looking gorgeous in a large white dress with a train. She was beaming at his father. His grandfather held her hand and cried while sending her off.

The officiant introduced the ceremony. Atsumu listened intently. He watched as his mother stood there with his father, looking at each other lovingly. He gave the reading.

When they exchanged vows, Atsumu bit the inside of his cheek and let some tears fall down his cheeks. Even while they were legally married, they followed all their vows dutifully— never once leaving each other. Atsumu cried at how heartfelt and honest they were. He cried for how many times his parents had to postpone this so they could lead Atsumu and Osamu towards success. Tears fell because he always knew how much his mother dreamed of this.

The ring exchange, Osamu went up there and gave them their rings. His brother was already crying as well, and he presented them with their rings with trembling hands. His mother let some tears fall when he saw Osamu, and they spoke silently towards each other— letting their tears speak for them.

When the officiant declared them as married, Atsumu cried. He looked out at Kiyoomi, who also had some tears in his eyes. The rest of his crowd— especially his grandparents— were also crying. When they kissed, people shouted and clapped. His nieces and nephews cheered and screamed. His aunts and uncles clapped and whooped. The ceremony was over.

Three hours later, the bridal shower was over, and the reception party started. Atsumu and Kiyoomi arrived hand in hand, where the celebration was just beginning. He glanced at Kiyoomi, who was already watching him with a smile. He laughed and sat down with him at his assigned table. Osamu and Suna were already sitting there, laughing.

It was only just the beginning—cocktail hour—, but Atsumu did a lot. He had a lot to drink and his appetizer was delicious. He gobbled it down and immediately headed towards other tables. He mingled with every single family member he noticed— his aunts, uncles, grandparents, niblings, and even some plus ones.

The dinner shared a similar experience. He sat and enjoyed his meal while chatting with his brother and his friend. Kiyoomi would also contribute to the conversation, but most of the time they were sharing high school memories or random facts about their family— Atsumu doesn’t really know why, he was pretty tipsy.

During the speeches, Atsumu got on stage and talked through all the memories he had of his lovesick parents who sacrificed everything for him and his twin. He shared a heartfelt message where he wished his parents would stay the same loving couple and grace everyone with their presence. His mother laughed and his father scoffed— that’s a win in Atsumu’s book. Osamu came up after him, and shared a very heartbreaking experience about how their parents jumpscared him as a little kid when he exited his room and saw them kissing. Everyone laughed.

The first dances, cake cutting, and everything else went by in a breeze. By the end of it, Atsumu was drunk on happiness and good times. He laughed with his parents and talked with everyone else. Kiyoomi never failed to stay by his side— it was quite hard too, since Atsumu dragged him everyone and forced people to meet his boyfriend.

When they returned to the hotel, Atsumu and Kiyoomi were spent. He collapsed on the bed, with Kiyoomi falling next to him. Atsumu hugged his partner and nuzzled into his neck.

“I love ya, Kiyoomi.”

”I love you too, Atsumu.”