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Chapter Text

The odds are one in eleven million people get in a deadly plane crash. Kiyoomi wondered if going on multiple planes throughout his life made him more likely to get into a crash, or if that was some bullshit statistic that had no credibility. Maybe his odds were closer to one in five million after travelling so much for the team. Was it more likely on a longer plane flight? He needed to focus on something else. 

The smell of plain black coffee wafted into Kiyoomi’s nose from next to him, and he looked over to see Atsumu cautiously taking a sip of it. He immediately reeled back as is struck by something, and put the coffee in his cup holder, shaking his head. Atsumu didn’t seem to notice that Kiyoomi was watching him, because he looked over and jumped slightly when he saw that Kiyoomi was already looking at him. 

“Too hot?” Kiyoomi asked. 

“Way too hot.” Atsumu crossed his arms and leaned back. Their flight was set to board in twenty minutes, meaning they’d probably line up pretty soon. The volleyball team was travelling alone, so they had a flight with a few random people. Although, it was pretty obvious that they were the Japan National Volleyball Team judging by their matching red tracksuits. 

Kiyoomi wasn’t particularly a fan of airplanes, and was trying to fathom a fourteen hour plane flight. They were going on a normal(not luxurious) plane, one that only had two seats per section and three in the middle. Kiyoomi could already foresee the backache and cramped flight, where he’d have nowhere to go if the proximity became too much. If only the entire Olympics budget didn’t all go to the merchandise and actually went to the comfort of their athletes. 

He knew that Atsumu knew this about him, and that he was probably holding back some sort of cryptic question that really meant: “Will you be okay on the flight?” To which Kiyoomi would cryptically answer, “We’ll see.”

But Atsumu didn’t seem to have that in mind as he sat there, very focused on the temperature of his coffee and the ticking of the clock. Kiyoomi was just preparing himself. He had enough allergy meds in his carry-on to suffice for a small army to sedate himself, and he also had motion sickness meds as well. He was as prepared as he was going to get, and he’d done everything he could. 

Atsumu suddenly spoke up. “Do you want the window seat or the aisle seat? Or do you want to sit alone? We can pretend like I’m super sick so nobody sits next to you if that’s what you want.” there it was. Atsumu’s cryptic but obvious way of asking if Kiyoomi would be fine.

Kiyoomi sighed. “I’d like the window seat, and of course you can sit with me.” He nodded, making reassuring eye contact with his teammate and looking over at the clock. They were about to call out group A, which was them. The announcer came over the intercom and announced that group A for flight 2853 to Paris was boarding now, and the whole team simultaneously stood up, taking up almost the whole boarding group. Kiyoomi got his pass out from his pocket. 

The line started moving and Atsumu went in front of Kiyoomi in scanning his boarding pass and getting onto the plane, Kiyoomi hot on his heels the whole way. Once they had actually stepped into the plane Kiyoomi’s reality crashed on him. Fourteen hours. On a plane. That’s the longest plane ride he’d ever been on. 

He pretended like that didn’t bother him as he started walking down the same aisle as Atsumu. His teammate suddenly stopped and turned around, motioning for Kiyoomi to go into the window seat that Atsumu chose. He lifted his suitcase into the upper cabinet space and took only a small backpack to the seat with him, sitting down and letting out a deep breath. 

Atsumu sat right next to him, and seemed to be stealing tentative glances Kiyoomi’s way. After a couple of minutes, he asked, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, this is fine. I just don’t like planes, you know this.” He put his hood up to try and keep himself in his own bubble but probably just looked even more angsty as he said, “I just need to take some meds that will make me sleepy and hopefully pass out.” He reached into the front pouch of his backpack and pulled out a small pill organizer, opening one of the compartments and grabbing two small pink pills. Atsumu seemed to be scrutinizing him like he was doing illegal drugs, so he said, “It’s just benadryl.”

His teammate nodded. “Whatever helps you.” and Kiyoomi didn’t really know what to say to that. 

Their relationship was complicated, and Kiyoomi definitely knew that he had feelings for Atsumu, but was unsure if Atsumu felt about him the same way. Atsumu was the most caring person he knew, and he always seemed to accommodate everything Kiyoomi needed to a tee, but Kiyoomi didn’t know if Atsumu was just like that with him or if he was like that with everybody. 

He snuck a glance his teammate’s way before taking a sip of water and looking out the small window. The final boarding group was finally getting on the plane, meaning they were going to leave soon. He at least had to get through take-off before some of his worry subsided, and started drumming his fingers on his thigh. 

He wanted the medicine to kick in now, but he knew he’d have to wait at least half an hour for that. For now, he could only sit and wait for the last twenty people to board and pray to god this flight wasn't the unlucky one. He did this almost every time he flew, but it was amplified now that he knew they were going to be in the air for fourteen hours. 

Atsumu seemed to take note of his unease, because his teammate leaned over and asked, “Is everything okay? I know you don’t like flyin’ very much, but is there anythin’ I can do?” He asked, a touch of his accent coming through more than usual.

Kiyoomi sighed, deciding not to lie and say how he was really feeling. “I’m just worried since we’ll be up in the air for so long.” He kneaded his fingers together and looked into his teammate’s warm eyes. “I’ll feel better after takeoff.” 

“Okay, tell me if ya need anything.” Atsumu smiled slightly, and Kiyoomi’s chest warmed slightly, some of his stress alleviated for the moment. The plane started to move, and Kiyoomi leaned back in his plane seat and closed his eyes. He wasn’t religious, but in cases like these he’d pray anyway. 

As the plane moved on the tarmac, a few flight attendants walked around with those oxygen masks, demonstrating how to put them on and help others in case of an emergency. Kiyoomi looked away, because even the thought that there could be a possibility of them needing to use those made him worry even more. 

Thankfully the demonstration didn’t last long and when the flight attendants walked back to their seats at the rear of the plane, Kiyoomi breathed a sigh of relief. He could feel the medicine kicking in now, and was starting to feel drowsy, his limbs getting heavier. He closed his eyes.

The plane suddenly sped up on the tarmac, and he felt that familiar drop of his stomach that told him they were in the air. He clenched his fists as the plane flew higher and higher, and they gradually loosened as he became more and more tired, falling into a deep sleep. 

~

Kiyoomi groggily opened his eyes to a dark plane with a small amount of light coming from the overhead compartments, and remembered that he was on the plane. He had no idea how long it had been since he fell asleep. He rubbed his eyes to try to get them to focus and sat up slightly, feeling a sharp pain go up his back in response. 

He winced, and moved one of his hands to support his lower back before painfully straightening his whole body back to a healthy position. Next to him, Atsumu was out like a light, completely asleep as far as Kiyoomi could tell. Good. He was glad Atsumu didn’t see that moment of weakness or else he’d be asking about it and worrying about it for the rest of the plane flight. How much longer did they have? Kiyoomi checked the clock on the movie screen and saw that they were eight hours into their plane flight. Eight hours???

He had no idea how he’d slept for eight hours on a plane, but he was honestly impressed. Only six more. He could stay awake for that long. 

~

Kiyoomi spent the rest of the flight watching random movies, finishing two and getting halfway through one. It wasn’t his preferred mode of passing time, but it was honestly the only available one since he didn’t have a book and didn’t want to mess up his back again by falling asleep. Atsumu woke up when there was around an hour left of the flight, which told Kiyoomi that he was probably awake for the first half and fell asleep right before Kiyoomi woke up. 

Now, they had just landed and the plane was a crowded mess of people trying to get off. Kiyoomi and Atsumu had yet to even leave their seats. They had barely exchanged a word or two in the past fourteen hours, and Kiyoomi was convinced that after being silent for that long he’d forgotten how to speak. 

Finally enough space cleared for Kiyoomi and Atsumu to walk through, and the two of them stood up. That sharp pain pierced through Kiyoomi’s exhausted haze, and he was much more awake now. He put a hand to his back and winced. Atsumu stopped what he was doing and looked at Kiyoomi with a mix of confusion and worry. 

“Omi, what’s wrong?” He asked, and he was holding up the line. 

“Nothing. Let’s move.” He answered with a clipped tone, putting on a mask of indifference as best as he could as they walked off of the plane with their carry-ons and met back up with the team at the gate. Hinata and Bokuto were both excited to be in Paris, and you could see it on their faces. Some other team members like Suna and Ushijima just looked like they’d woken up from the longest nap of their lives, which Kiyoomi felt like he could relate to a bit more.  

Coach Hibarida started counting heads and seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as he addressed the whole group, saying, “We have a coach bus waiting just outside, follow me.” Gesturing to the huge glass doors probably fifty feet away from them. Kiyoomi gripped his suitcase and walked, trying to ignore his back and just get to the bus. 

Kiyoomi let the driver put his carry on in the bottom of the bus and walked up the stairs onto the bus, sitting down and trying to relax. It was very dark and time to go to sleep for all of the Parisians, but Kiyoomi was jet-lagged and his body thought it was morning. 

Before Kiyoomi could even realize, Atsumu had sat himself next to him and was scrolling on his phone, despite there being enough seats where a few people could sit alone. Kiyoomi didn’t ever mind Atsumu sitting with him, but he also didn’t want Atsumu to notice that he was trying to cover up the pain he was in. He’d probably feel better once he was in an actual bed and not sitting upright in another uncomfortable seat. Atsumu seemed to see right through any façade Kiyoomi tried to make, which made him nervous.

Thankfully, the bus ride went by quickly and with no questions, and they finally made it to the Olympic Village. The coach sent out a text message to the group chat with everybody in it, detailing their room assignments and where each room was. He looked for his name and was unsurprised to see that he was sharing a room with Atsumu. Although, he thought that he might’ve gotten Komori as his roommate too, unless Komori requested someone else as his roommate. 

The bus doors opened and the whole team started filing off, and Kiyoomi was getting deja vu from when they were getting off the plane. He grabbed his backpack and straightened himself before standing up unsteadily, feeling that pain again. Why was it so persistent? He bit his lip to keep himself from wincing again, and put his backpack on slowly. When he looked up, Atsumu was already looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Without a word, the two of them stepped off the bus, grabbing their belongings and walking to the elevator, which was right inside the building. 

When they got into the elevator, there were already a couple of other athletes from other countries in there, going up as well. Kiyoomi stepped a little closer to Atsumu because he didn’t know how packed the elevator was going to get. 

Thankfully there were only three other people in the elevator with them and they got to their level first, which was floor 3. They stepped off the elevator, their only interaction with the other athletes being Atsumu giving them a friendly smile as they left. Their room was in the middle of the hallway, with two other rooms feeding into the same communal bathroom. Kiyoomi sighed. 

Atsumu closed the door, and also locked their entrance to the bathroom for extra safety, Kiyoomi presumed. 

Then Atsumu turned to him. “Omi, what’s wrong?” He asked without any prompt, and Kiyoomi knew that he was caught.
“What do you mean?” He said as he removed his backpack at the speed of a turtle. 

“You’re obviously in pain.” Atsumu crossed to him with his arms crossed, looking at Kiyoomi with unfiltered concern. 

“It’s nothing.” He said, “Just stiff from the flight.” He made an excuse, and Atsumu looked at him like he didn’t believe it. Atsumu wordlessly turned and walked to his side of the room, sitting on his bed and not saying another word, instead just scrolling on his phone like no conversation ever took place. 

And that’s when Kiyoomi knew he was fucked.

Chapter Text

It was the first day of training in a gym that the team had reserved, and it was nothing like the gyms back in Japan. The facilities were very nice, but there were clear differences in overall layout that made it harder to navigate. Although, that was probably more of a thing with Europe versus Japan, not just gyms.

Kiyoomi was mid practice, having had a good amount of sleep last night and feeling mostly back to normal, other than a few twinges here and there he felt good enough to play, and he was playing just fine. He was getting points, serving well, and was having an average day. Nobody had asked him anything about yesterday, so he supposed Atsumu was being overly observant of him and just happened to notice that his back was sore.

He threw up another toss for Hoshiumi, who was trying to practice his nondominant spikes, and watched as his teammate launched into the air and spiked the ball down. “Nice one.” he deadpanned, and Hoshiumi looked at him like he had three heads. 

“Really? A compliment from Sakusa Kiyoomi?” He asked sarcastically. They’d known each other back in high school, having met at the All Youth Japan National summer camp. That’s also where Kiyoomi had met Atsumu for the first time. 

He grabbed another ball and prepared to toss it up for his teammate, throwing it underhand to preserve his strength for their later scrimmages. He tossed, and Hoshiumi did almost the exact same thing as before, just slightly stronger, the noise ringing through the gym for a little bit longer. Most of his teammates were doing their own thing, and Kiyoomi was glad he was paired with someone who didn’t pry into his personal problems.

Kiyoomi walked to grab one of the stray balls from the floor and felt another twinge at the base of his back, wincing and grabbing the ball before straightening and walking back over, masking his pain with a deadpan. He handed the ball to Hoshiumi and said, “I'm going to head to the bathroom real quick.”. Hoshiumi nodded, and started doing his own thing as Kiyoomi walked slowly albeit with a purpose to the bathroom. 

Once he was in the bright white bathroom, he let out a shaky breath and stood in front of the mirror, looking at his own disheveled hair for a second before focusing on why he was really in there. He lifted up his shirt and looked at his back. Everything seemed normal. He then reached a hand back to his lower back and attempted to work out the knot himself, which was also proving difficult. 

Not until he got to the point where he had pretty much twisted his body into every back-massaging position possible did he give up, washing his hands and making his way to the door. He opened it, and was met with Atsumu’s face the moment he opened the door, like he was waiting outside. 

“Hi Atsumu.” Said Kiyoomi. 

“Hey Omi.” He answered dryly. “Are you sure yer okay?” He asked, and Kiyoomi was taken aback. Atsumu was still hung up on last night?

“It’s fine, it’ll go away.” he answered, although he didn’t really believe himself at this point. “This happens sometimes, it was probably just the plane ride.” he reasoned, but Atsumu didn’t seem to like that response.

“‘Kay, because I wouldn’t want my best wing spiker to be injured on game day.” Atsumu raised an eyebrow and walked away. Once he was mostly out of sight, Kiyoomi noticed someone else trying to get his attention. 

Komori waved him over, and he finally left the bathroom doorway and walked over to his cousin, who was stretching on the floor. Kiyoomi joined him so he was doing something, trying not to let his back hurt any more. 

Komori immediately started, “So what was that about?”

“Oh he just thinks I’m keeping something from him.” Kiyoomi answered. Komori pretty much knew everything about his weird relationship with Atsumu. 

“Are you keeping something from him?” He asked, raising an expectant eyebrow. 

“Yeah, potentially.” He couldn’t lie to Komori, even if it meant having every little detail painfully squeezed out of him. He couldn’t keep secrets from everyone.

Komori tsked. “What are you hiding? Is it what I think it is?” He raised his eyebrows, and Kiyoomi felt like his walls were suddenly see-through. 

“Well, yeah, I’ve had a twinge in my back since the flight. I’ve been trying to keep it from him because I don’t feel like explaining myself, but he seems to see past that and keeps giving me these looks and having these passive-aggressive conversations that tell me he at least knows something.” He rambled quietly, and Komori hummed in thought. 

“You can either tell him or keep it from him forever. Do you think that telling him will change anything between you two?” He asked. 

Kiyoomi knew the answer to that. “No, it wouldn’t. It’s not that important anyway, it’s just how much he’s reacting to me having a small backache that’s making me a bit frustrated.” he said. 

“Well, at least he cares.” Komori stood up, and so did Kiyoomi.

~

The sun was beginning to set and Kiyoomi was ready to go out to dinner, as was Atsumu. He was still giving Kiyoomi a look here and there but was mostly minding his own business and just having normal conversations, which Kiyoomi was eternally grateful for. 

Together they left their room and took the elevator down to the bottom floor, meeting their team in the usual meeting spot–right by the door– and taking off together. The whole Japan National Volleyball Team had a reservation at a fancy parisian restaurant tonight, one of the only scheduled dinners they had. Despite still being pretty jet-lagged, he was excited to try a new type of food. 

The restaurant was right next to the olympic village so they walked, the streets full for tourists and other athletes. They probably looked pretty formidable, all dressed formally walking through the streets like some mafia group.

The walk only took a few minutes and there was barely any conversation as the team navigated the streets of Paris. Once they were inside the restaurant, Kiyoomi took a deep breath, knowing they had finally made it to their destination.

They then filed into seats and the conversations started flowing in. “What are you ordering, Shoyo?” Atsumu asked from next to Kiyoomi. Komori was on his other side, having a quiet conversation with Suna. 

“I think I’m gonna get the pan oh chocolate.” Hinata said, scrutinizing the menu. 

Kiyoomi raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” He asked, not sure he was hearing right. 

“The pan oh chocolate.” He answered, repeating the exact phrase from before. 

Bokuto chimed in enthusiastically. “Shoyo, it’s pané ah chocolatté.” He corrected him, but somehow his pronunciation was even worse than Hinata’s.

Kiyoomi scoffed. “You guys both have terrible pronunciation. It's a pain au chocolat. And that’s not a meal. That’s a dessert or breakfast pastry.” He shook his head at them.

“Ok French master Omi over here.” Hinata crossed his arms, looking disappointed in himself for his terrible pronunciation. 

“You should get the steak frites. I think you’d like them.” Kiyoomi offered, trying to bring up his teammate’s mood a little despite fully believing that only a dumbass would pronounce pain au chocolat that way.

“Looks yummy!” Hinata started perusing the menu again, and was in his own world and happy enough for Kiyoomi to breathe a sigh of relief, knowing he didn’t completely ruin Hinata’s day by accident. 

As soon as he opened his own menu, Atsumu started talking to him. “Omi, I never thought you’d be so considerate to try and make Shoyo happier. Usually ya just make him all sad then he gets over it.” He took a sip of his drink and raised both eyebrows expectantly, waiting for Kiyoomi’s response. 

Kiyoomi was a bit taken aback. “Goodness, I didn’t know you guys saw me as some evil mood-killer. I was trying to be nice because he doesn't know French, so I guess it wasn’t very nice of me to be all up in his face about it.” He paused. “But I also don’t speak French, I just know enough to know that he was butchering that pronunciation.” He explained. 

“Huh. It’s unlike you to be so nice to people. Is something wrong with you?” he asked. Atsumu was in a teasing mood this evening. He was so nosy earlier, maybe he’d realized how he was being too up in Kiyoomi’s business? Either way, he definitely preferred this Atsumu to the one who wanted to know every little ailment that Kiyoomi had. 

Kiyoomi scoffed. “Whatever. What are you getting to eat?” He asked, trying to change the subject.
“Don’t know, maybe a burger.” Atsumu answered, and Kiyoomi sputtered in disbelief. 

“You’re in France and are going to get a burger for dinner.” He tilted his head to the side. There was no way Atsumu was being serious. 

“Nope, just wanted to see if you’d get mad.” He smiled sweetly and cut off the conversation, looking back at the menu quite intently. 

Kiyoomi turned to his own menu, not bothering to answer. He looked over the menu and decided that he’d also get the steak frites, although it wasn’t the most fancy dish they had. He liked trying new foods but didn’t want to go too out of his comfort zone.

The waiter came around and everyone placed their order, along with a second round of drinks. His first drink was long gone, and after his confusing conversation with Atsumu, he just wanted to drown himself in more. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, so he probably wouldn’t overindulge; at least not tonight.

“More drinks, Sakusa?” Said a monotone voice to Kiyoomi’s left. When he looked up to find the voice he found that Ushijima was sitting to the right of Hinata, who was directly across from him.

“Yes.” He answered. Ushijima seemed deep in thought. Although, that could be no different from his norm. That seemed to be his default emotion.

“Do you enjoy being on the MSBY Jackals?” He asked, a sudden change in the subject.

Kiyoomi took a sip of his empty drink before saying, “I do quite enjoy it. Most of the teammates lack street smarts, but it’s not their fault. Entirely.” He huffed a laugh, and Ushijima’s lips curled up slightly, indicating he thought that Kiyoomi was funny. 

“I see. I feel the same about the Schweiden Adlers.” He answered monotone. Kiyoomi assumed he was talking about Hoshiumi and Kageyama, who lacked street smarts, although not quite to the extent of Hinata and Bokuto. 

“I think it makes it more interesting for someone who’s boring like me, since everyone else has so much energy. I like not having to do the extra work of hyping others up.” Kiyoomi continued, because no one else at this table wanted to talk to him. 

Another voice chimed in. “Omi, yer the least boring person on our team, don’t even start.” Kiyoomi whipped his head around and looked right into Atsumu’s eyes. “What makes you think yer boring?” He asked.

Kiyoomi sputtered. “I dunno, I guess I’m just more introverted than the rest of you. You guys are so energetic.” He explained, and Atsumu crossed his arms, obviously dissatisfied with this answer. 

“Oh shaddup. You know yer probably the most mysterious and interesting one out of all of us.” He said, and he turned back to his menu, as if none of that conversation happened. Kiyoomi then assumed that the rest of the dinner, Atsumu would probably be eavesdropping in every conversation he had. 

Ushijima continued their former conversation as if nobody had interjected. “I do get that the more monotone people can help make up for the crazies.” Kiyoomi never thought in his life that he’d hear Ushijima refer to his teammates as ‘crazies’. “Although, I think it’s nice to balance out the energy.” He nodded along as he talked. 

Kiyoomi nodded. “Agreed.”

Chapter Text

Kiyoomi woke up to the blinds being completely pulled back and light streaming right into his face. He squinted at the light and stirred, feeling a sharp pain go through his upper body at the movement.

Shit.

Kiyoomi wasn’t prepared for this, and he didn’t really feel like dealing with it at this hour. He groaned in pain for a moment as every movement seemed to radiate pain throughout his whole body. He turned over on what he thought was his good shoulder, and after feeling almost no pain on that side decided that was his working arm. 

Sometimes he’d wake up like this. One shoulder in, one shoulder out. Simple as that. Today, it was his left shoulder that was out, thankfully his nondominant. He winced as he used his right arm to push himself into a seated position. Once he was there, he painfully reached his barely usable left arm over his head, his palm resting on the right side of his traps. He prepared himself for the worst part. Reaching his right arm to his left elbow, he pulled the elbow to the right until he heard an audible POP! And sunk back into his bed. 

Great way to start the day. He wasn’t expecting for these issues to come back since the flight, and he had half a mind to think that the gods had it out for him, because he was doing so well before coming here. Why did he have to be the one cursed with loose joints?

Kiyoomi had always had loose joints, and that much was clear in his childhood photos. Pictures of his lanky elementary school self sitting with his legs double crossed were embarrassing enough, but what was worse were the photos of him in high school before he built his muscles up, his shoulder blades jutting out of every shirt so far that he looked like he was growing wings.

The problems didn’t come until his second year of middle school, when the “growing pains” he had started worsening and becoming debilitating. He remembered sitting at the rheumatologist's office surrounded by old people, wondering what he did to deserve this. His knees wouldn’t stay in their sockets, and his joints were so loose that he felt like they were always on the verge of dislocation. 

After that started, his parents hopped from specialist to specialist all the way until his first year of high school before getting a proper diagnosis of Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. 

It was Kiyoomi’s first time hearing about the condition. He did research and found answers to all of his questions. Where the pain came from, if it was genetic, and after hearing that it was a forever thing, he was discouraged, to say the least. He worked with physical therapists, and volleyball kept him in shape, but ultimately it was up to him whether or not he’d live as free of a life as he wanted to. He knew that, and yet it still felt out of his control. 

Well, some things were out of his control.

For one, the flight. A fourteen hour flight was ridiculous, and for someone with a chronic pain condition, sitting on a flight for more than half a day was the worst-case scenario. He was lucky he got out with only a backache. 

But why was his shoulder acting up now? And his neck also hurt from the terrible position he was sleeping in. Little aches like this were normal, but he knew that the flight probably made it worse and was prolonging his pain.

Just as Kiyoomi was starting to ruminate in despair, the sound of a door opening startled him out of his trance, and he painstakingly pushed himself into a seated position, opening his eyes to Atsumu standing in the doorway holding a plastic bag, stopped dead in his tracks by something. 

“Omi, what’s going on?” Atsumu closed the door and walked over to Kiyoomi like he was just hit by a bus.

Kiyoomi put a hand out to stop him. “Nothing is going on. I just woke up.” He lied, and tried to ignore his shoulder as he sat up on the edge of his bed. Atsumu put down the grocery bag and walked past Kiyoomi’s outstretched hand, standing right in front of him. 

Kiyoomi looked up at Atsumu, and he actually looked mad, which was an emotion he barely saw from Atsumu, at least directed towards him. “What are you hiding from me?” He asked, and he sounded hurt. This was none of his business, yet he was hurt that Kiyoomi wasn’t talking to him about it. 

He didn’t respond, and instead rolled his shoulder and stood up. “I need to take a shower.” He took one step, but Atsumu’s hand reached out and pushed back on Kiyoomi’s chest, forcing him to step back. He didn’t seem to be leaving this conversation without answers. Kiyoomi scoffed and shook his head.

“Atsumu, it’s none of your business. I need to take a shower.” A warm shower would make some of the pain go away. 

“Omi, yer obviously in pain. I just want to help you. Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” He said with what sounded like desperation, which made Kiyoomi’s chest feel funny. Conversations like this were the reason Kiyoomi always roomed with Komori, or asked for a single.

He shook his head, and walked past Atsumu’s arm in the direction of the bathroom. Atsumu reached out and grabbed Kiyoomi’s left wrist, pulling him back towards him. 

Kiyoomi could feel his bones rearranging again and a sharp pain rattled through his whole upper body from his left shoulder. Again? 

He stopped walking and even moving and winced, biting the inside of his cheek to repress any other audible sign of pain, shutting his eyes tightly.  His shoulder popped out again. Of course. He sucked in a breath and brought his good hand to the upper part of his left arm, supporting it enough to mediate some of the pain. 

Atsumu seemed to notice something was up because he immediately took his hand away from Kiyoomi’s wrist. “Omi, what did I do?” He asked this time, circling to stand in front of Kiyoomi, whose arm simply was not in its socket right now, or at least not entirely. He needed to pop it back in, but he really didn’t want to. He opened his eyes to Atsumu’s eyes staring right at Kiyoomi’s shoulder, which was hanging visibly lower than his right. Atsumu’s face looked green, and he seemed to be at a loss of words. 

Kiyoomi looked right into Atsumu’s shocked face and said, “I need to sit down for a second.”. In order to pop his shoulder back in, it was best for the rest of his body to also be aligned, and the best way for that to happen was to sit down.

He opened his eyes and in a flash, there was a chair placed behind Kiyoomi, who sat back into it and let out a deep breath before lifting his left arm over his shoulder again, and then using his right to pull his left elbow towards his head. There was an audible pop and flash of pain that caused him to audibly groan, much to his dismay, and he sunk back into the chair. 

Atsumu was waiting cautiously a few feet away and stalked forward, sitting on the floor next to Kiyoomi’s chair like a beggar. “Omi, after witnessing that I really need to know. I’m so worried about you.” Atsumu said, and Kiyoomi didn’t get what the big deal was. He briefly glanced over to see Atsumu’s expression, and he didn’t even look angry or hurt anymore. He was just concerned. Kiyoomi couldn’t have that.

“I just have hypermobility. My joints dislocate sometimes. That’s all that was.” He answered, which was a half truth. He rubbed the back of his neck. “The flight and travelling in general really makes it hard for my body to adjust sometimes.” He said vaguely, because he didn’t want this to become a big thing. “I really need to shower. We can talk more later, if that’s what you want.” He finished, opening an avenue for his future self to worry about.

As he twisted the handle of the bathroom door, Atsumu said, “Thank you for telling me.” barely loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear. 

Kiyoomi got in the shower and kneaded through the knots in his neck, trying to mull over the fact that Atsumu was onto his secret, that he had a chronic illness that he hadn’t really told anyone about. Well, the coaches and Komori knew, but that didn’t really count since he was legally obligated to tell the coaches and Komori was family.

He just hated when people found out, and then they suddenly treated him like he was made of glass. 

His mother, after learning about his diagnosis way back when, had tried to ban him from playing volleyball, riding his bike, and basically doing anything a little bit physical for fear of having a dislocation or something close. Kiyoomi was frustrated, and obviously didn’t listen to her, but the idea that someone would react with such aggression and would change the way they treated him because of his diagnosis changed him. He didn’t want anyone to know because he didn’t want that to change their perspective of him. 

When it came to Atsumu, though, Kiyoomi knew that nothing would change, and he’d only help when help was needed. He knew this, but Kiyoomi was still held back by the fear that there was a reality where Atsumu suddenly started treating him like he was fragile, just like his parents did.

He might’ve had loose joints, but he was a professional athlete. He was by no means made of glass or fragile in any sense. It felt oxymoronic to be an athlete with this condition, but here was Kiyoomi. He knew that he was beating a lot of odds by being an Olympian, and it made him a bit proud, but not enough for the whole world to know.

He turned off the shower, and his neck felt slightly better. He’d need to tape his shoulder up today, but other than that he was in okay shape. There had definitely been worse days, so he was grateful that today wasn’t one of them.

Once he got back into the room, Atsumu was gone. Guess they weren’t talking now. Maybe Atsumu would never ask about it again.

~

Kiyoomi sat in his seat, trying his very best to pay attention to the opening ceremony but failing miserably. He spoke no French, and not enough English to understand what the English speeches were about. He’d had enough of today. He woke up terribly, the thing with Atsumu was weird and embarrassing, and practice hadn’t been very productive. 

Part of their lack of productivity was due to the fact that half of the team had too much to drink the night before, and were all low on energy. Though, practice was pretty much the only tolerable and not confusing part of Kiyoomi’s day. 

He understood why Atsumu wanted to know what the issue was, and he thought that maybe he’d leave it alone after a day. Kiyoomi was obviously wrong, because while Atsumu wasn’t aggressively trying to get answers, he was always there at just the right time to ask, “what’s wrong?” or “what’s going on?” It’s not that Kiyoomi didn’t want help, he just didn’t need people to think less of him. 

And now, he was sitting at the longest ceremony of his life, wishing that he could go back to that low quality mattress and sleep the day off. He wasn’t really in any pain, which was a bonus. His shoulder ached slightly, but that was to be expected after this morning. Overall, he was in good shape to just forget about today and move past it. He just needed this ceremony to end first. 

There had already been what felt like thousands of speeches, some in French, some in English, and Kiyoomi didn’t know when it was going to end. About ten minutes ago their promoter Kuroo and athletic trainer Iwaizumi had decided it was their time to leave, and Kiyoomi wished he’d gone with them. They probably had some other reason to leave. It would look bad if he left early.

Kiyoomi shifted, and a stronger pain went through his shoulder. He winced. Bad idea. He shifted back to where he was sitting before, and the pain went mostly away. Better.

A more familiar voice cut through the echoed speeches. “Omi, can ya just tell me the truth? You said earlier we could talk.” Kiyoomi turned to Atsumu, who was searching his face for something. Was it disapproval? 

Kiyoomi spoke before thinking.“Not here. I can tell you when we get back to our room.”

Atsumu’s eyes lit up. “Are ya sure?” He asked.

Kiyoomi really should’ve answered no, but he instead nodded. “Yes.”

Chapter Text

Kiyoomi slid his shoes off as Atsumu asked, “Can ya tell me what’s going on?” In the most worried tone possible. It wasn’t as serious as Atsumu probably thought it was, but Kiyoomi knew that he had to tell him for his conscience.

“Can we sit down first?” He asked, and Atsumu nodded, sitting himself at the small, dining-like table. Kiyoomi sat across from him and started talking robotically. “So what you saw earlier was a joint subluxation. It was not fully out of place, but partially, which is why I could pop it back in so quickly.” He paused, trying to formulate this the best he could. He’d never mastered this conversation, no matter how many times he had to have it. He looked at the table as he said, “I have something called EDS. It stands for Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, which basically means my connective tissue is weaker and bendier than normal.” he said, and Atsumu seemed to be thinking hard about it. Was that a good enough explanation? 

“What does that mean for you?” He asked. Kiyoomi was slightly taken aback at such an empathetic question. He’d planned to keep this medical and simple, not talk about his feelings. Although, at the question he could feel some emotions growing in his stomach, eager to spill out.

But he continued in a deadpan,“I mostly experience some muscle spasms, subluxations, I’m sore for longer than you or Hinata because my muscles need longer to catch up, and I also just have other health things related to EDS.” He was trying to only name off the symptoms that are important to his athletic life, and not necessarily the random ones that have little to no impact on his life.

Atsumu’s eyebrows raised and he looked Kiyoomi deep in the eyes, like he was looking into his soul. Kiyoomi had never seen Atsumu look at him with such plain sympathy. It made Kiyoomi’s heart twist. “I’m so sorry ya have to deal with that, Omi.” Atsumu said, and Kiyoomi sighed.

“I’ve had it all my life. I usually can deal with it just fine, but the flight threw me off, and this morning I didn’t wake up great.” He answered truthfully, and the more he thought about it, the more he started to feel frustrated and mad, all emotions he refused to let himself feel this morning. As his leg started bouncing and as his fingers started kneading together subconsciously, a warm hand covered them and made Kiyoomi look up. 

Atsumu breathed audibly. “I’m glad you told me. Is there anything I can do to help when it is bad or worse than normal? Are ya in pain all the time?” He asked. Kiyoomi huffed out a hesitant breath before answering. 

“Honestly, it hasn’t been like this in a few months. Usually on a really bad day I just need to rest and recuperate. Hopefully that does not happen on game day or anything like that.” He paused pensively. “And to answer the second question, there is always a baseline of pain, but it isn’t always severe. It’s just a little bit.” He said, and Atsumu’s eyebrows raised. He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say or do. 

Atsumu stayed silent.

Kiyoomi broke the silence and said, “I don’t need you to change the way you do anything. It’s just good that you know. But you can’t tell anyone. The coaches know, but that’s it. I’ve been meaning to tell Iwaizumi but haven’t gotten the chance.”

Atsumu still paused before saying, “Okay. Just let me know if it’s a bad day, okay?” He asked. He was awfully concerned, and Kiyoomi found it both endearing and scary. He didn’t want it to become this huge thing unless it needed to. Atsumus’s hand was a warm reminder to Kiyoomi that someone else knew now, and he wasn’t alone. But it also told him that he couldn’t go back on what he said, and now this wasn’t just his little secret that only the coach knew about.

“Sure. I’ll let you know.” he answered, and Atsumu seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Kiyoomi checked the clock. It was way past time to go to sleep. “I’m going to get ready to sleep. Is there anything else you wanted to ask me?” He said, searching Atsumu’s eyes for any questions and only finding that he looked like he was deeply processing something. It was definitely better to let him marinate for a few by himself. 

Atsumu shook his head, and Kiyoomi stood up to leave. Atsumu’s hand slipped off of his, and his hands felt awfully cold. A warm shower would probably help.

~

Kiyoomi was sitting on a swivel seat at the bar, alone and slightly secluded from the main crowd at the bar. A good portion of his teammates were there, and were in good spirits after having such a good practice day. Kiyoomi honestly just wanted to forget about yesterday. He was in better shape but was still overthinking the fact that Atsumu was now privy to his chronic illness. 

Kiyoomi took a swig of his french martini, which was sweet enough where he couldn’t even taste the vodka, he just had to wait until it made him feel lighter and more at ease. 

He turned around in the chair and noticed Atsumu and Hinata dancing on the dance floor, Bokuto a few feet away having what seemed to be a very interesting conversation with Hoshiumi. Kiyoomi had zero FOMO for what they were doing. He had no intent of dancing on the sweaty dance floor, and wasn’t in the mood for any silly conversations.

He turned back around and took another sip of his martini. It was almost gone, and his second drink of the night. That meant that he had at least one more left in him before things were out of his control.

Someone lightly tapped his shoulder, and he turned around sharply to meet Hinata’s eyes. He had sweat dripping from his neck and his hair was slightly deflated, probably damp from the dance floor. Kiyoomi swore there was steam coming off from the top of his head.

“Do you wanna go on the dance floor?” He asked, and Kiyoomi literally wanted anything but to go on the dance floor.

“No, thanks.” He answered, and Hinata looked like he was expecting that answer. 

“You feeling okay?” He asked, like it was an insane prospect that Kiyoomi didn’t want to get sweaty and gross on the dance floor. 

“I’m feeling just fine. Not in a dancing mood.” He said, and Hinata shrugged, sitting in the stool next to him.

“Y’know, Omi, you should really loosen up sometime. I think you’d be a great dancer!” Hinata said as he sat down, using the nickname that Atsumu made up but the MSBY members all adopted for him. It was as endearing as it was irritating.

Kiyoomi sighed. “I think you’d be disappointed with my dancing capabilities.” He answered. 

Hinata shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat. Have fun over here!” And he was gone as fast as he came. Lost in the crowd again. Kiyoomi had somehow lost Atsumu in the thick of the crowd, his blonde hair nowhere to be found. 

Kiyoomi just accepted that he was going to be drinking alone tonight, and took the last sip of his martini. He ordered another one, and as he waited he thought about last night. He’d really just told Atsumu everything, even though he probably would've gotten away with saying less. The way Atsumu had looked at him reminded him of his parents. Their sympathy and pity turned into one expression. That was the whole reason that he didn’t want people to know and now Atsumu of all people knew. 

Kiyoomi was dwelling on that, because he’d wanted Atsumu for close to a year now, and just as he was getting close, he felt like his chances were lost all because of a dumb flare-up making him look like a helpless little baby. For fucks sake, he was an olympian. Now he was burdening Atsumu with his problems on top of that.
He knew that this was an incredibly cynical way of thinking and that he was probably reading way too much into it, but he couldn’t help but think this way when it came to Atsumu.

Someone else sat themselves next to Kiyoomi, and half expecting it to be Atsumu he turned and looked straight at the newcomer, and was surprised to see Suna Rintarou instead, someone who he didn’t talk to much in comparison to the rest of the team. 

“Are the martinis any good?” Suna asked, and Kiyoomi nodded. 

“A bit sweet, but better than a regular martini.” He answered.

Suna’s sharp eyes flicked to Kiyoomi and back to the dance floor.“hm. I prefer more bitter drinks myself.” He said, and Kiyoomi kept looking out at the dance floor, still subconsciously searching for Atsumu. His head was feeling tingly and light, meaning the drinks were actually starting to hit him.

“Not a dancer?” Kiyoomi asked Suna, using Hinata’s earlier conversation to keep this one going.

“Not in the slightest. More of a spectator.” He smirked, and Kiyoomi couldn’t have agreed more.

“Agreed.” 

Suna flicked his eyes to Kiyoomi again. “Could anyone ever convince you to dance?” He asked slyly, like there was a double meaning that Kiyoomi wasn’t finding.

“What, like who?” He asked, his new martini being placed next to his head just in time.

“Y’know, like Atsumu.” He paused tactfully. “Or Bokuto too, I guess.” He smirked again, and Kiyoomi felt like he was an open book. How did Suna just guess that off the top of his head? Was he a psychic?

Kiyoomi sputtered. “I don’t know what you mean.” he took a huge swig of his martini. 

Suna chuckled lightheartedly. “Sakusa, I’ve known Atsumu almost my whole life, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Just sayin’.” He said nonchalantly, as if talking about the weather. Kiyoomi looked away bashfully and when he looked back, Suna had vanished like a ghost and reappeared a few feet away at the Hoshiumi and Bokuto conversation. How sly of him.

Kiyoomi sighed to himself and closed his eyes, relishing in the way his head spinned just for a few seconds before reopening his eyes to the colorful lights and dark bar area. He really wished Suna hadn’t dropped a bomb like that mid conversation. He also really didn’t need to be here. He also really didn’t have anywhere better to be. 

Kiyoomi was starting to worry about Atsumu. How come he had completely disappeared since Hinata came to talk to him? And where was Hinata? They had both disappeared into the dance floor. Kiyoomi couldn’t help but wonder if they were kidnapped or something. That would be quite the sight. Two olympic athletes, kidnapped in Paris. 

Just as he was crafting that mystery novel in his head, he was starting to feel too tired for this bar. He wanted to go to sleep. 

“Ready to go, Omi-Omi?” A voice behind him asked, and he turned around to see Atsumu standing right by the bar. He felt relieved that the person who was calling for him actually was Atsumu this time, and his heart warmed when he saw him. Suna’s words echoed in Kiyoomi’s head, and so did his own doubts. He was too confused right now to be thinking about all of that.

“Yeah.” He said, standing up all wobbly and taking a moment to regain his balance before paying his tab in euros and walking to where Atsumu was standing by the bar. Upon further inspection, Atsumu really looked like he’d danced his ass off. He was just as sweaty as Hinata, but it was a much more attractive look on him. He looked like he was in some perfume commercial, while Hinata looked like he’d run three marathons in the rain. “What time is it?” He offhandedly asked Atsumu as they made it to the door.

“1:30AM.” He answered immediately, and Kiyoomi was blown away. He couldn’t believe that much time had passed since they’d gotten to the bar at 10PM.

“Damn.” Kiyoomi said as they walked out into the warm, humid night. His hair was going to pay for this.

“Hey Omi, can I tell you something?” Atsumu asked, and Kiyoomi’s heart dropped. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Just sayin’. Suna’s words reverberated through Kiyoomi’s head. Was this really what this was about?

“Of course, Atsumu.” He said, and Atsumu took a deep breath. Kiyoomi braced himself. 

“Omi, I-” He paused. “I really want you to know that I think yer one of the best people I know.” He paused again, and Kiyoomi could feel his face flushing. “I really want to spend more time with you and learn more about you because I really like you.” Atsumu stopped walking, and so did Kiyoomi. There was barely anyone on the road at this point in the night, so they were basically alone. “Omi?” 

Kiyoomi sputtered, shocked at the confession. He could feel his heartbeat in his head and in his ears, and it was invigorating. “Atsumu, I really like you too.” He confessed, words that had been on the tip of his tongue for months. Atsumu’s eyes widened, like he wasn’t expecting that response. 

“Do ya wanna like, be together?” He asked, like a high schooler. Kiyoomi found it endearing. He was full of some shock but mostly content at all of this, and it almost felt like he was in a dream.

But he still had his own doubts. “Atsumu, even with everything that’s wrong with me, are you sure you want to have to deal with it as much as I do?” He asked, and even just vocalizing that worry made emotion crawl up his throat, and not the same blissful emotions as before.

“Omi, none of that defines who you are and why I want to be with you.” Atsumu stepped forward slightly. “And even if it did, I’d rather embrace it than let it change us.” He reached forward and grabbed Kiyoomi’s hand. “So will you try this? Be with me?” He asked, and it sounded almost like a plea.

Kiyoomi was willing to give it a try despite his internal conflicts. Those shouldn’t even impact Atsumu too much anyway. “Yes, Atsumu, I’ll be with you.” He smiled, and Atsumu launched forward into a hug, capturing Kiyoomi’s arms in his embrace. All of his doubt melted away when Kiyoomi saw Atsumu’s bright, cheesy smile, and it was something he wished he could burn into his memory forever.

When he backed up from the hug, Kiyoomi took the liberty of cupping both of Atsumu’s cheeks and looking him deep in the eyes. Atsumu smiled again–he couldn’t stop–and grabbed the ends of Kiyoomi’s jacket, pulling their lips together before Kiyoomi could even think about doing it first. 

It was quick, but a thousand words were conveyed through the short kiss, solidifying in Kiyoomi that he wanted this, and he was going to fight for it, even if it was against what his subconscious wanted.