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During the season, the days felt the same.
Atsumu woke up at Sakusa's side, burying his face in the pillow that smelled of leather and chocolate; like Sakusa, before pulling open his eyes to see the mass of curly black hair on the pillow next to him. He shifted closer, sliding his arm along Sakusa's side, curling it around his waist and pulling him in, lips pressing against soft skin.
Mornings were soft, slow, and usually ended with Atsumu falling back asleep.
Sakusa huffed out a breath, voice low in his throat as he hummed before he sat up, pushing up in front of the blonde. Pale arms stretched over his head, giving Atsumu a glimpse of his sharp shoulder blades. He lowered his arms again, resting them in his lap.
Atsumu turned onto his back as Sakusa got out of the bed, shuffling across the bedroom and to the bathroom. Within five minutes the shower was on, drumming against tile, and Atsumu was left staring up at the ceiling.
He'd been staying at Sakusa's apartment for a few months, and while he'd managed to memorize all of the little things Sakusa did; putting his shoes in the same spot every day, or wiping down the kitchen counters three times per day, it tended to grow tedious. He missed being able to toss his jacket on the sofa and plop down against the cushions without having to worry about shifting the position of the cushions. He missed being messy. He knew it. Sakusa knew it.
He tried not to let his mind linger on it for too long.
When Sakusa got out of the shower, a towel around his waist and his curls falling in his face, dripping water, Atsumu finally pushed out of bed, switching places with his boyfriend. Usually, he tried making conversation before Sakusa shot him down and told him to take a shower, but he couldn't make his mouth move as he headed into the bathroom.
It was one of those mornings.
The water was warm, the shower tile was cold and in the end, Atsumu stared at his reflection in the half-foggy mirror. His light blonde hair darkened in the water, not enough to make him look like Osamu, but enough to make him wonder if Sakusa would prefer his hair darker.
"Hey, Omi?" Atsumu called, nudging the bathroom door open with his foot as he rubbed his hair dry with a towel.
Sakusa was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a mug in his hands. He was wearing clothes; a dark shirt and shorts and his hair seemed to be a little drier. He looked up at Atsumu, both eyebrows raised, "Yes?"
"I borrowed one of yer shirts," the blonde made his way into the kitchen opening one of the cabinets and pulling down a mug of his own. Another habit he'd adopted when he began living with Sakusa: drinking tea in the mornings.
"I can tell." The blue T-shirt was loose on Atsumu's frame, just enough that it didn't hug his body like he knew it would've done on Sakusa. Atsumu grinned, leaning over and meeting Sakusa in a soft good morning kiss. No matter how many times they did it, Atsumu still saw lights behind his eyelids.
He poured the tea Sakusa had made into his own mug before bringing it to his lips. It was warm on his tongue.
"I've got to go to the doctor before practice."
"What for?"
"My shoulder." Atsumu tapped his fingers against the counter. Sakusa's shoulder had been bothering him after their last match and he wasn't stubborn like Atsumu when it came to his injuries, so he went and got his shoulder checked at least once every month. Atsumu didn’t understand why, but he knew that Sakusa was particular about staying on top of his health.
"Want me to come with you?" He offered, before draining what was left in his mug and setting it down in the sink.
"That's up to you."
Atsumu followed Sakusa into the clinic two hours later and sat down in one of the chairs while Sakusa checked in.
Atsumu didn't like doctor's offices; they were sterile and stiff and smelled like antiseptic wipes, though after spending a day cleaning with Sakusa, he was used to that. His boyfriend was in the seat next to him a few seconds later. Atsumu knew that he liked the smell since it meant the place was clean, but he still wore a black mask around his face.
"Is it the pain ya usually have?" Atsumu asked, crossing his left leg and shifting to lean against Sakusa.
"Yes." Sakusa shoved his hands in his pockets with a sigh, "He'll probably just stretch it and massage it and give me some medicine and send me on my way."
"Ya still gonna practice today?"
"Of course."
Atsumu hummed, tapping his fingers against his knees. He wanted Sakusa to rest, Sakusa knew that and played anyway. Atsumu was afraid he'd end up hurting himself too badly, but Sakusa played and practiced anyway with almost no rest in between.
Atsumu wasn’t an expert in shoulder injuries, but he had enough common sense to know that if Sakusa didn’t rest, he’d stay injured.
"Sakusa-san?" The nurse peeked her head through the door and they both stood, following her back through the clinic. She got his height and weight and blood pressure and everything else they needed for their charts and sheets before Atsumu was sitting in an examination room. Sakusa was on the table, his body more relaxed than ever as they waited. He really felt comfortable in doctor's offices.
"Wanna get lunch after this?" Atsumu absentmindedly stared at the posters and diagrams on the wall. Large words reminded him of the effects of a stroke and how to stop it from happening. He frowned, turning his gaze back to Sakusa, waiting for an answer.
The man pursed his lips, like he actually had to think about how to answer, “Sure.”
The doctor came in a few minutes later, clipboard in hand and a smile on his face as he greeted them both. His questions for Sakusa were the same ones Atsumu knew he asked every time:
Is it the same shoulder? Has anything changed? What would you rate your pain on a scale of one to ten?
And Sakusa’s answers were always the same.
Then, just like always, the Doctor pulled some diagnosis out of his ass, without recommending Sakusa to a physical therapist, or an orthopedist.
Sakusa took off his shirt when the Doctor said he would work his muscles.
Atsumu knew it was Sakusa’s least favorite part. Being so open—vulnerable, even—in a public space, no matter how comfortable he was, made the man stiff and put him in a bad mood.
Atsumu sent a smile his way, leaning back in the chair. Sakusa’s eyes caught the blonde’s and for a split second his brow relaxed and he laughed, quiet and soft, but Atsumu saw the way his shoulders shook and his mouth broke into a grin. He laughed back.
The Doctor began his examination of Sakusa’s shoulders, gloved hands gingerly pressing against his muscles. He lifted and turned and stretched Sakusa’s arm. Atsumu tried not to jump out of his seat every time the taller man winced.
When he was finished, Sakusa was able to redress.
“I’m going to give you some light painkillers for that. Don’t overdo it,” he pointed with his pen. Atsumu knew Sakusa wouldn’t; he cared more about his health more than Atsumu cared about volleyball. “And rest. If you keep going days without resting that arm, it’s just going to get worse.”
And Atsumu agreed with the Doctor.
“You’re not gonna rest, are you?” Atsumu asked, twenty minutes later, sitting across Sakusa at a small restaurant, just a few blocks from the apartment.
It was a safe, clean place that Sakusa always felt comfortable eating at. Atsumu took him after uncomfortable appointments, just to ease his nerves.
Sakusa’s reply came quickly, like Atsumu had asked an unwarranted question, “I’m going to rest until practice. Then, I’m going to practice.”
And Atsumu was the stubborn one.
“Alright, Omi,” he hummed, using his straw to push around the ice cubes idly floating in his water. “If I ever got injured, would ya take care of me, Omi?”
Sakusa lifted his own glass, and wiped the ring of water off the table, “Yes, though I hope that you’d have enough common sense to stop yourself before you get injured in the first place.”
Atsumu had thought the same about Sakusa, but there he was with a shoulder injury, refusing to rest.
He didn’t say anything.
Their food came ten minutes later and they ate in silence.
Back at the apartment, Atsumu plopped back down on the mattress, burying his head back into the smell of Sakusa. The man in question sat in the living room, watching a movie he probably wasn’t paying attention to.
But at least he was resting.
Atsumu listened to the quiet droll of the TV through the wall, wondering how many more silent arguments it would take before something gave. If it gave.
He needed to get his shit together.
“Omi!” He called.
The TV droned on. There was no reply.
“Omi!” He called, a little louder, and after a few seconds the couch creaked, the TV shut off, and Sakusa was standing in the doorway to the room, a frown on his face as he scowled down at Atsumu.
“What?” He didn’t sound frustrated, just tired and vaguely annoyed.
“C’mere,” he beckoned him closer with a single finger, but Sakusa stayed planted in the doorway. “Omi.”
He finally stepped into the room, and Atsumu hid the grin that pulled high on his face. The taller man walked over, standing just in front of Atsumu, his gaze skeptical as it sat on the blonde, “What was so important that you needed me to come all the way into the room?”
Atsumu pushed up off the mattress, sitting up as he patted the spot next to him, “Sit with me for a bit.”
The man continued to stand, “No. I’ll stand.”
He patted the mattress again, “Please, Omi.”
“I prefer to stand. Just tell me what you want.”
“Please sit.”
“Atsumu, I’m standing,” Sakusa finally cut in, voice sharp as glass, his dark eyes smoldering. “Now, what did you want to say?”
He tried not to seem too disappointed. So, Atsumu dug his feet into the floor and stood, just in front of Sakusa, offering him a smile. He couldn’t help the knit of his own brows as he prepared his next words.
Sakusa wasn’t going to be happy.
“I want you to stay here and rest.” The words left his mouth in a quick jumble and for a split second, he thought Sakusa might not have heard him.
But the scowl on his face said otherwise.
Atsumu continued anyway. “You’re gonna hurt yourself again. Just take one practice off. I promise it won’t kill you.”
Sakusa’s scowl remained unchanged, but his arms pulled up to cross over his chest. He was closing himself off; he tended to do that whenever Atsumu was right.
“Atsumu, my shoulder is fine,” he replied. “It’s not hurt, it’s not a problem. It’s the usual amount of discomfort, but it’s not enough for me to miss practice.”
“Meian-san will understand you missin’ one day,” he continued, trying to ignore Sakusa’s words. “Ain’t he been naggin’ you to rest anyway? And then, you can just come back to practice tomorrow-“
“Atsumu.”
His name was a command from Sakusa’s lips and the blonde’s words died in his throat.
His arms had dropped back down to his sides, but his hands were curled into tight fists, and his eyes were darker, more intense.
“I appreciate your concern,” he began, voice still sharp with contempt, tearing Atsumu’s argument to shreds. “But I am an adult. I can take care of myself. I know when my body reaches its limits, and I know how to plan accordingly.”
Atsumu tried not to notice the way the air left his lungs. His chest felt tight as he brought his gaze to the ground. It was easier than meeting Sakusa’s. The silence stretched thin between them, threatening to snap at any moment.
Atsumu decided to cut through it himself.
“Right,” he choked out. This time, his fists were closed and tight, making his knuckles go white. “I get it. Yer real fuckin’ stubborn. The thing is, I’ve spent these past couple months following yer rules and keepin’ this place real clean and nice and tidy, and resistin’ the urge to just throw shit around. I like makin’ ya happy, and I know ya like it when I do.”
His boyfriend stared back, hard gaze soft, just enough for Atsumu to remember he was human.
“But for once I need ya to make me happy, alright? It won’t be the end of the damn world if ya miss one practice,” he continued, taking a step closer to Sakusa. He brought his gaze back up, letting their eyes meet. “Stop bein’ such an asshole and rest, Kiyoomi. We both know ya need it.”
Atsumu stepped past him, still making sure their shoulders didn’t brush as he headed towards the door. He slid his shoes onto his feet as he pulled the apartment door open.
“Where are you going?” Sakusa’s voice carried from the bedroom door, across the hallway and to where Atsumu was halfway out of the door.
“Out.”
Five minutes down the street, and twenty minutes in a car brought Atsumu to the gym. He’d spent the few minutes he’d been there, stretching, but once that was done, he grabbed a volleyball.
Practice would get his mind off of it.
The sounds of squeaky shoes blocked his thoughts, the smell of rubber filled his brain, and the leather of the volleyball in his hands, grounded him on the gym floor, just past the serving line, staring down at the other side of the net. Living became easier when all he had to worry about was getting a good serve over to the opponents side of the court.
Despite the lingering thought that he would be back in that same gym in a few hours, practicing alongside the rest of the MSBY Jackals, he needed the escape.
The ball slammed against the court with a loud bang, and Atsumu licked his lips, watching as it slowed to a bounce. He grabbed another, taking up his position once again, spinning the volleyball in his hand.
Serving alone was easier than setting alone, but he knew he’d end up working on his other skill before he went back to the apartment to get ready for practice. He threw the ball in the air, watching it with a steady stare, feet pushing across the floor, arms dipping low, and thighs flexing as he jumped.
He and the volleyball landed with another thump, adrenaline burning through his veins and sweat sliding in droplets down from his hairline.
Jump serves were easier than floaters. Floaters made Atsumu think. Atsumu didn’t want to think.
He worked on jump serves when he was angry. He worked on floaters when Sakusa was angry. Atsumu wasn’t sure if Sakusa was angry with him.
When he finished his twentieth serve, his shirt was soaked in sweat, his hair was pushed back from his forehead and his feet pounded with a dull pain of landing on the gym floor, over and over and over again. He sat against a wall, head ducked between his legs, fingers laced together as he sucked in short breaths. It wasn’t enough.
“Hey Atsumu-san, what are you doing here?”
The blonde looked up, gaze moving to the gym door where Shoyo Hinata was walking in. He looked ready to practice.
“Shoyo-kun,” Atsumu put on a grin, pushing off the floor with strained arms, walking toward the redhead. “It ain’t time for practice already, is it?”
Hinata smiled back, setting his bag down on the floor, walking up to Atsumu, “No, I was just coming in to do some solo practice, but hey, since you’re here, do you think you could set for me?” His eyes were bright, his smile shined, and Atsumu felt a tiny bit of the tension in his shoulder blades ease.
Leave it to Hinata to give Atsumu a reason to set.
“Sure, Shoyo-kun.”
The redhead stretched while Atsumu readied the volleyballs at the net. He held one in his hands again, and this time it didn’t feel like something to get rid of. It was softer, smoother, easier to hold. He rolled it around in his hands before looking to where Hinata waited for a toss.
When the ball eventually reached Atsumu’s fingertips, leather and skin meeting in the briefest of touches, the world felt alright again. Even for a split second. Hinata slammed the volleyball down onto the court with a grin that Atsumu mirrored.
“Again!”
He wasn’t sure how long he set for the redhead, but it didn’t matter. The questions in his brain subsided, his breaths evened, and with sweat soaking his back and his shirt, he felt clean.
But at the end of it all, Atsumu’s mind circled back to Sakusa. He always circled back to Sakusa.
He hadn’t wanted to share the details of his and Sakusa’s problems with Hinata, but the redhead pointed out at some point during their practice that Atsumu came alone when he and Sakusa were fighting.
“We ain’t fightin’,” he argued, sitting down against the wall, much like he had when Hinata had entered an hour earlier. The redhead sat next to him, criss-cross and intently listening. “Omi’s just a stubborn asshole, an I’m a stubborn asshole, an we’re gonna figure it out and everythin’ will go back to normal.”
Atsumu didn’t want it to go back to normal. He didn’t want to be at Sakusa’s side and watch him ruin himself for no reason. Atsumu didn’t want to feel the need to change himself so Sakusa would still want him.
“Well, if it becomes a problem, I’m on your side, Atsumu,” he grinned.
“There ain’t sides, Shoyo,” he snapped, pushing off the floor. He didn’t look down at the other man. Why couldn’t he just understand that everything was going to be fine between Atsumu and Sakusa? “It ain’t a fight, it ain’t an argument. We’re just talkin’ and it’ll work itself out, alright?”
Hinata’s eyes were wide—wider than usual—when Atsumu finally met his gaze, and it was then he realized his fists were clenched, his body was tight, and his voice was louder than he’d meant for it to be.
He released a breath, body relaxing, a pang of regret filtered alongside the dying threads of adrenaline.
“I’m goin’ home.”
The apartment was quiet when Atsumu stepped inside and he kicked his shoes off quickly, beelining toward the bathroom with the hopes of not getting spotted by Sakusa. He wasn’t sure if he could talk just yet. They needed to, but he wasn’t sure if his voice box would work.
The shower was warm when Atsumu turned it on and he basked under the water, letting it wash through his hair, down his spine, rinsing the sweat from his body and down the drain. He sat under the spray until his fingertips pruned and his body was so relaxed he could’ve fallen asleep.
The tile floor was cold when he stepped out of the shower and he wrapped a towel around his shoulders as he began rubbing his hair dry. It was colder in the rest of the apartment and he shuddered as he walked to the bedroom to put on some clothes.
Sakusa was on the bed, an ice pack wrapped against his shoulder and a book in his left hand. Atsumu paused in the doorway.
He was resting.
Sakusa looked up from his book, his gaze lingering on Atsumu’s face before he set it to the side, “You’re back.”
“I am,” he replied. The cotton fibers of the towel rubbed into the base of his neck as he continued to dry his hair, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure what to say. He folded the towel, setting it down on the bedside table as he started getting dressed. “You actually rested. I didn’t think you would.”
It was petty. Atsumu knew that; he’d gotten all hot and bothered about Sakusa not taking care of himself and now that he was, he couldn’t help but feel a little angry. It had taken Atsumu storming out for Sakusa to finally realize that overworking his shoulder wasn’t a good idea.
Sakusa’s gaze went sharp, but Atsumu could see the softness behind his pupils, “Don’t be like that. I’m not an idiot, Atsumu.”
The blonde slid one of his practice shirts over his head, pulling it straight before he grabbed the towel once again, “Like what? I know you’re not an idiot, Omi. You’re just stubborn as fuck.”
Sakusa’s jaw twitched and Atsumu knew he was trying to pick his words carefully. He didn’t have to do it often. “What do you want from me?”
The laugh that left Atsumu’s throat was short and sharp as he rested his hands on his hips, “If ya don’t know by now, then yer really fuckin’ dumb.”
“I’m resting. That’s what you wanted,” Sakusa replied, motioning to himself, laid out in the bed and the ice wrapped to his shoulder. “I can’t read your mind.”
“I get scared, Omi,” he blurted, mouth moving before his brain could stop, and his body froze. The words must’ve surprised Sakusa too because his eyebrows raised and his lips parted just enough to make him look concerned. “I get scared watchin’ ya wear yerself out. Like ya don’t care whether you’ll break or not.”
He sucked in a breath, scrubbing the palms of his hand down his face as he collected himself. Practice would start soon, and Atsumu would have to explain to Meian that Sakusa had finally decided to rest for one day.
But he didn’t want to leave the apartment without solving their problems first. Practice could wait ten more minutes.
“I know we’re both new to the whole datin’ thing,” he continued, allowing his feet to carry him across the floor and over to the bed. He sat down gingerly as if he was afraid something might break if he rushed. “But shit, Kiyoomi, I love ya so much it hurts when I see ya not carin’ about yerself.”
The silence that sat between them was heavy and Atsumu wanted to do everything he could to get rid of it. But that wasn’t up to him anymore.
“I didn’t realize you cared that much.” Sakusa’s eyes were on his own lap, almost like he was afraid to make eye contact with the blonde. His left hand was squeezing his own thigh tightly and Atsumu wanted to hold his hand, rub his thumb along the taut muscles and try and reassure him it was okay.
It wasn’t. Not yet, anyway.
“‘Course I do,” he replied, voice softer than he’d intended. He knew Sakusa still heard him.
The taller man finally released his thigh, smoothing a pale hand over the mattress before he patted the spot next to him. Atsumu’s spot.
“Come here.”
And he crawled across the bed, piling in right next to Sakusa and resting his head on the man’s shoulder. It was a small comfort to him to know that even though they weren’t perfect, they were still trying to work it out.
“I’ll stop being reckless about my shoulder.” Sakusa’s hand, cold but soothing, traced lines up and down Atsumu’s forearm. “I’ll rest it more often and if it’s bothering me, I’ll stop pretending it’s okay.”
Atsumu chuckled, turning to lean into Sakusa’s touch. He closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the promise, reveling in the feeling of Sakusa’s hand on his arm, and finally relaxing into the fact that they were almost back to normal.
“Then I’ll keep tryin’ to make you happy, Omi,” Atsumu grinned, opening his eyes to look up at his boyfriend. “Deal?”
“Alright.”
Atsumu snorted and pretended not to notice the smile that curled at Sakusa’s lips. He closed his eyes again, turning on his side, wrapping an arm around Sakusa’s waist. He’d missed the other man’s warmth.
He felt a kiss against his scalp and his body relaxed even more. He practically melted into his boyfriend, mind blissful and the tension between them finally gone.
“Shouldn’t you be heading to practice?” Sakusa’s voice was quiet, the words tangling in Atsumu’s half-wet hair, and it took him a moment to realize what he meant.
Atsumu shot out of the bed faster than he ever had before.
He was fifteen minutes late to practice and everyone else was already going when he got there.
“Miya, where the hell have you been?” Meian’s voice rang through the gym, and Atsumu tried not to wince as he jogged up to the man.
“Sorry, I was takin’ care of Omi,” he said. “He ain’t gonna be here cause he’s restin’ his shoulder.”
Atsumu knew Meian probably wanted to hide the smile that was on his lips, but Meian had never been good at concealing his emotions, especially not when it came to his teammates. “Good,” he nodded. “It’s about time. But, you’re still late, so go run some laps and then you can come back and join the rest of us, alright?”
And Atsumu didn’t care about his penalty. He ran fast, he ran quickly, and when he was done, he rejoined the rest of the team, more than happy to set for every single one of them.
Later that evening, when he returned to the apartment, sliding his shoes off at the door and letting out an exhausted sigh, he walked back to the room. The only light on was the kitchen and it shone in a dull yellowish haze through the rest of the apartment. He nudged the bedroom door open, peaking his head inside.
Sakusa was asleep, book sitting in his lap, head leaned back against his pillow, just enough to show the column of his throat and his hands rested on either side of his body.
The blonde crept in quietly, gently lifting the book off Sakusa’s chest and setting it on the bedside table. He wrapped the blanket that had pooled around his boyfriend’s waist back up to his shoulders and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the point of Sakusa’s nose.
The man’s eyes fluttered open and his voice was soft and sleepy when he spoke, “You’re back.”
Atsumu smiled down at him, “Yeah, I’m back.”
Sakusa’s nose crinkled up in his disgust, “Take a shower, you smell fucking disgusting.”
Atsumu barked out a laugh as he pulled away, sliding his shirt off and tossing it in the clothes basket before grabbing his towel from before, “Alright Omi, I love you too.”
His shower was quick, enough for him to wash his hair and body, and soon he was curling back into bed next to Sakusa, pressing his chest to the paler man’s back and pressing a gentle kiss to his nape, just like he had the morning before.
“Atsumu.”
“Yeah?”
Their legs tangled underneath the sheets and the blonde exhaled a short sigh, burying his nose into Sakusa’s dark curls. Leather and chocolate; just like always.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, Omi.”
It wasn’t their first argument and it certainly wouldn’t be there last, but what was life without a little conflict? As long as it was Sakusa he was fighting with.
For the first time in days, sleep came easy.