Archive of Our Own

The MSBY locker room is always so noisy that Kiyoomi sometimes feels like putting in the earplugs he always carries in his backpack, but he doesn't want to be rude to his teammates.

Friends.

Meian forces him to call them that.

Maybe Kiyoomi is being too prickly, but at this time of year, anxiety overwhelms him. He hates it so much. He can't stand Christmas, people being too effusive, the commitments... And he knows he hates it because he's never had a good Christmas. His family is all about appearances; big and luxurious parties where there is no family warmth. When he was a child, he always hoped that this year they would give him a toy, something he wanted, but it never happened.

It didn't take him long to give up and stop expecting anything from this time of year. He just wants it to be over as soon as possible.

“Omi!” Atsumu calls to him from the other side of the locker room. “What are your plans for the holidays?”

In a week, the season will be over and everyone will have a few days off, which they will use to go home and be with their beloved families.

“None,” Kiyoomi mumbled, turning back to his locker.

It became quieter than the spiker would have liked, and he felt like running away. Suddenly, he missed the noisy locker room from a few moments ago.

“Come on, you must have some plans.”

“Not everyone is the personification of Christmas, Miya.”

Meian's hand rests on Kiyoomi's shoulder and gives it a little squeeze. Always saving him from any situation. And he's not lying, Atsumu is all about Christmas. For weeks now, he's been showing up every day in a different Christmas sweater, each one uglier and more extravagant than the last, and he's even decorated the locker room like he does every year. He never seems to tire of it. 

Bokuto, Hinata, and Inunaki don't help with that Christmas spirit. At least this year they've been saved from the Secret Santa that the blond always proposes. They had to focus too much on the games they had.

Kiyoomi hears Atsumu mutter something, surely being scolded by Meian's gaze, but he prefers to ignore it, especially when they start chattering about themselves again.

But he didn't lie; he doesn't have any plans. In fact, for the first time, he has decided to reject his family. He has only agreed to visit his grandmother before Christmas and spend the day after with his nephews. But this time, no parties, no commitments, no seeing absent family members and people he can't stand or doesn't even remember.

This decision has caused a problem, so when he picks up his phone to put it in his bag, he discovers a few calls from his mother. The argument has been too heated, but Kiyoomi can't take it anymore. He needs to be respected. He's 27 years old, and if he wants to spend all of Christmas in his small apartment eating noodles, he should be able to do so.

And despite all his conviction, as soon as he leaves the locker room, he calls his mother.

“Sorry, I was at practice,” he says as soon as he hears her pick up the phone.

“Oh, I thought you'd be busy packing to come home.” It's clear that Kiyoomi learned to make passive-aggressive comments from his mother. The boy presses the bridge of his nose above his mask and tries to breathe.

“Mom, we've already talked about this,” he replies, trying to sound calm.

“That's why. We've already talked about you coming.”

“I'm not going, is that so hard to understand?” After saying that, he forces himself to breathe to calm down as he feels his body burning with rage.

“And what am I going to say to the guests?”

“This is unbelievable. You care more about your dear guests than you do about me.” He would have liked to sound more firm, but his voice trembles slightly. “Tell them that your son is fed up with appearances and would rather spend Christmas alone than be surrounded by people he doesn't give a damn about.”

“Stop acting like a damn brat, Kiyoomi.” The boy stops at his mother's authoritative voice. Still, he hoped his words would elicit a different reaction from her. That she would deny that he really mattered more than the party itself. “We'll be waiting for you at home.”

“I'm not going,” he mutters angrily. “I'm sorry, Mom, I'm staying here. It's my decision.”

He hangs up the phone with trembling hands without listening to what his mother says. He doesn't need to; he's made up his mind. It's not the first time he's said this, that he's stood up to his family, but he always ends up giving in. Not this time. This time he has to hold out.

“Bye, Omi, see you!” He jumps when he hears Atsumu’s voice as he walks quickly past him.

“B-bye,” he replies hastily, even though Atsumu is already walking away.

Kiyoomi’s sigh is so long that he feels like he can’t breathe. He just wants to get to his apartment and pretend he doesn’t exist for a few days.

And the only way to get it done was to turn off his phone, because the calls from his whole family had been getting more intense as the days went by. Kiyoomi had gone from resignation to complete anger. Even his sister, who had always supported him, was now against him. “Kiyoomi, please, just one day, then you can leave,” she had said. They didn't understand. It wasn't about Christmas itself, it was about simply being able to do whatever he wanted. They couldn't force him.

When the doorbell suddenly rings, a chill runs through him.

“They can't be...” he murmurs, getting up slowly, afraid that his parents will appear on the other side of the door. He couldn't see it happening. With only two days left until Christmas, they weren't going to go looking for their stubborn son. That's what Kiyoomi tells himself as he approaches the door. He presses the intercom button to see who's downstairs on the street. “Miya?”

“Hi!” he says, greeting him with a broad smile and lowering his sunglasses slightly to reveal his eyes.

When he opens the door, Kiyoomi hurries to pick up some leftover food he has left on the kitchen counter and arrange the cushions on the sofa. More out of nervousness than anything else. He knows how big a deal Christmas is for the Miya family, so he is surprised that Atsumu is here. He always rushes home as soon as the last game is over, and he assumed he would already be there.

What if something happened?

“Are you okay?” he asks as he rushes to open the door. Atsumu takes a confused step back.

“Um... yes... and you? Your phone is off.”

“Oh, that... yes...” The two boys fall silent, Atsumu rubbing the back of his neck and Kiyoomi clinging to the doorframe. “Is that why you came?” Maybe he didn't mean to sound so abrupt, but he can't help it. At least, from Atsumu's smile, he knows he hasn't taken it badly.

“More or less. Can I come in?”

Kiyoomi looks him up and down, thinking about it, even though he knows he's going to let him in. He's just being himself, refusing Atsumu. As always.

He steps away from the door to let him in. The setter has never been to his apartment, although the opposite is true, as Atsumu is likely to invite the team over for dinner whenever they can. He loves celebrations and being surrounded by people. He is literally the opposite of Kiyoomi. But while that side of him seemed like simple arrogance when they were teenagers, Kiyoomi has discovered that it is actually love. Love for the people around him. He doesn't know much about those things, he believed that only romantic love existed until recently and he's not sure he's ever felt it, so seeing that Atsumu can love so much and so strongly still overwhelms him.

“I heard you talking to your mother,” says the blond after taking off his shoes and putting disinfectant on his hands from one of the bottles Kiyoomi has at the entrance.

“Oh great, I love it when my teammates find out about my family problems.”

“Friends,” Atsumu corrects him, but only gets a dirty look from Kiyoomi.

“I'll only use that word in Meian's presence.” He gestures for him to sit on the sofa, and Kiyoomi sits on the armchair next to it. Atsumu smiles slightly. “Besides, friends don't spy.”

“Yes, if they're worried,” he says innocently, raising an eyebrow that makes Kiyoomi sigh and roll his eyes.

“For God's sake, Miya, you don't have to...” Another sigh. Sometimes even he gets tired of himself, and right now he's too exhausted to argue with the setter as well. “Whatever.” Kiyoomi gets up and heads to the kitchen, avoiding Atsumu's confused gaze. “Would you like something to drink? Tea?”

“ 'kay, thanks.”

He wishes his kitchen was closed off so he could hide, but it's not. So he pretends that Atsumu isn't following him with his gaze as he makes the tea. He hates that look he sometimes gives him. Those brown eyes get bigger, blinking slowly as he tries to understand what's going on, and Kiyoomi can't help feeling like he's trying to read his mind. It makes his skin crawl.

“I'm sorry, Omi, it wasn't intentional,” he says when Kiyoomi returns with the cups.

“It doesn't matter,” murmurs the black-haired man, sitting back down in his seat. “Is that why you came?”

Seeing that his teammate remains silent, Kiyoomi looks up at him.

Atsumu has his eyes fixed on the teacup on the table as he slowly scratches the back of his neck. The black-haired resists the urge to roll his eyes again. He knows that Atsumu's reaction means he's thinking about what to say. Three years on the same team is enough time to get to know each other, especially when you're as open as Atsumu is.

“I... well... um... I thought...”

“Just spit it out,” Kiyoomi mutters, annoyed by the blond's stammering.

“God, Omi, you're not making this easy.” The reply sounds so childish that Kiyoomi hides his smile by taking a sip from his cup of tea. “I thought you could come over to my home for Christmas.”

It wasn't a good idea to drink at that moment, because when he heard those words, Kiyoomi choked, coughing violently and spitting some of the tea onto his clothes.

“Damn it, Omi, take it easy,” Atsumu replied, approaching him to pat him on the back.

“Easy? Have you heard yourself?”

“I know, I know... it's weird, but...” Kiyoomi recovers and looks his teammate in the eyes, even though Atsumu is staring at the floor. Now he has moved closer, sitting on the corner of the sofa. His brown eyes, more like the color of honey, shine slightly. “I know you hate Christmas and I know you'd rather spend this day alone.” Atsumu's eyes rise and connect with Kiyoomi's dark ones as he flashes a soft smile that makes the black-haired boy stop breathing. “I've always thought that you don't really like being alone, you just haven't found people to be with.”

Kiyoomi doesn't know what to say. He realizes he's clutching the edge of his hoodie tightly. He also realizes he's barely breathing. He forces himself to take a breath and lean back, moving away from Atsumu slightly. The blond is also tense, so he does the same, as if saying that were like freeing himself from a great weight.

“I don't know why you don't want to spend Christmas at home,” Atsumu continues. “I don't need to know either. But if I can make you enjoy that day even a little bit, it would be a good Christmas present.”

“A Christmas miracle,” Kiyoomi corrects him, making Atsumu chuckle and nod. “I appreciate the invitation, but I want to be alone.”

The sadness in Atsumu's eyes is a punch in the stomach for Kiyoomi. Suddenly, he pouts, his eyes drop back to the floor, and he even shrugs his shoulders. Kiyoomi wants to shake him and yell at him not to act childish, and at the same time beat himself up for provoking that reaction.

“It's nothing against you, don't be dramatic,” he says irritably, hoping to stop Atsumu from looking like a puppy that's been abandoned in the rain. “It's just that... well, I don't feel like it.”

“Okay, I understand.” Atsumu finishes his tea and gets up. ”Even so, if you change your mind, there’s always a place for someone else at my house. My mother would be delighted to have you, and Osamu can surely make your favorite onigiri.”

“Don’t try to bribe me, Miya.”

As he turns away, Atsumu lets out a laugh. Kiyoomi slowly follows him to the door.

“I'll send you the address.”

“I said I'm not going.”

“We usually eat dinner early,” Atsumu ignores him and continues talking as he puts on his shoes. “So if you want to come in the morning, that's fine.”

“Miya...” Kiyoomi tries to stop the blond's babbling, but it seems impossible.

“And who knows! Maybe there's a present for you too.” Kiyoomi closes the door before Atsumu can say anything else stupid. “See you then, Omi-Omi,” he says anyway, shouting through the door.

The smile that appears on Kiyoomi's face surprises even him. He hasn't seen Atsumu in the same way for months, and it's getting harder and harder. He always takes up too much space, physically and mentally, so much that Kiyoomi feels overwhelmed around him. It was easier when he just thought he was an arrogant jerk, but even though he still thinks that, he's been able to see other good parts of him.

Like this.

Why did he bother to come see Kiyoomi? Worried about a conversation he barely heard, worried that his cell phone was off, worried about... him. He really doesn't understand, especially since Kiyoomi has tried to push him away as much as he can, but Atsumu is a persistent and stubborn fox. 

Something inside him lights up, thinking about accepting the invitation. He has seen Atsumu interacting with his family many times, and it is so different from what he has experienced. In fact, his own family can't even be called a family sometimes, but the Miya family, despite being noisy and overly effusive, are warm and welcoming. Kiyoomi shakes his head, stepping away from the door, coming out of his own thoughts, thanking Atsumu again for the invitation, but his mind is made up and he has always been clear-headed.

At least I used to be.

Kiyoomi says to himself as he approaches the Miya family home. He doesn't know why he's come; perhaps because of Atsumu's mother, who is always so kind to him, or perhaps because he really loves the onigiri made by his teammate's twin.

Or maybe because he's really too weak to resist Atsumu's pitiful face.

In any case, Kiyoomi sighs before getting out of the car and looks at the house, which is completely decorated for Christmas. In fact, it looks like Christmas itself was born here.

Distant music and voices can be heard, and even the other houses on the street look the same, with children playing in the road, making it all seem like a movie.

It's cold, so Kiyoomi huddles in his coat and walks slowly toward the house. Rejecting Atsumu's idea of coming in the morning, Kiyoomi decided it was better to show up a few hours before dinner.

He wasn't quite sure what time that would be, and he also knew that if he kept waiting at home, he would end up regretting it, so he simply took his car and drove here.

The front door is half open, so he pushes it slowly and peeks in to ask permission to enter.

“Samu, for fuck's sake, if you toss like that, it's impossible.”

“Don't be a crybaby, it's not my fault you suck.”

“I'm a professional volleyball player, don't fuck with me.”

“Atsumu Miya, watch your language or I'll be the one to hit you in the head with a ball.”

Kiyoomi is stuck halfway, with only the voices coming from the back of the garden.

More laughter and voices can be heard, and suddenly, Kiyoomi simply cannot move forward. He stands frozen in front of the door to the house, waiting to ring the bell, just standing there, thinking about turning around and running away.

In fact, he is about to do so when the door opens.

“Kiyoomi, dear, you came!” The boy practically jumps backward when the door swings open. “I saw you through the window, you can't run away now.”

Mrs. Miya smiles at him from the doorway, her eyes bright, large, honey-colored like her son's, making Kiyoomi feel a deep warmth in his chest.

“I brought... I broug...” He can barely speak, lifting the box of sweets and the bottle of wine he bought before coming. 

Mrs. Miya smiles at him so tenderly that Kiyoomi is afraid his eyes will fill with tears.

“Maybe it's too much for you at first,” she says, carefully picking up the gift. “Come with me.”

She steps away from the door and gestures for the boy to come in, giving him space to take off his coat and shoes.

Kiyoomi follows her up the stairs, looking around at the warmth of the house. Home. It is literally a home. There are photos of the twins everywhere, at all ages. He stops to look at one of Atsumu and Osamu, smiling at the camera, showing the teeth that are missing from both of them. He tries not to think about the fact that there are many more people in the house than he expected, or rather than he would have liked, judging by the voices he can hear. It was obvious that a Miya Christmas was not a quiet affair.

When they reach a door upstairs, Mrs. Miya looks at him and smiles before knocking softly on the door.

“My love,” she says, poking her head out. “I want to introduce you to someone.”

The door opens wider to reveal a room, not very large, but full of things. Wooden models fill the space, shelves cover the walls, and a large table stands in the center. A man looks at them over his glasses, and he is undoubtedly Mr. Miya.

“Oh! You must be Kiyoomi. It's nice to finally meet you,” he says with a calmness and tranquility that is not typical of the Miyas.

“I'll leave you two alone for a while. Kiyoomi, dear, come downstairs when you're ready, no rush.”

“Th-thank you very much.”

Never in his life has Kiyoomi felt so unable to say a word. He knew that the Miya family's warmth was overwhelming, but he never expected this much.

“Come in, kid, we're safe here,” he says with a half-smile. It's the same smile as Atsumu's. Without a doubt, the twins are identical to their father.

He had always wondered what Atsumu would look like with his natural hair, but now he could see what he would look like when he had gray hair. As he approached, he could see gray eyes like Osamu's that conveyed peace to Kiyoomi, so much so that he allowed himself to breathe again. "I don't do very well with too many people either, so my wife lets me lock myself in here until dinner. Pass me that, please."

Kiyoomi reacts and picks up the small bottle that Mr. Miya is pointing to. Now he understands why he has never been to the games. At first, he thought that Atsumu did not have a good relationship with his father until he saw that he had a habit of taking advantage of every interview to greet him. He thought it was a very sweet gesture, but he never wondered why.

Mr. Miya seems like a calm man, too calm considering his two sons, and Kiyoomi soon feels comfortable in the silence of the room, broken only by the sounds he makes cutting the small pieces of wood or the now distant voices.

“Did you make all of this?” Kiyoomi asks, walking around the room and seeing that there are models of all kinds.

“Yes, when the boys were little, they helped me, but they were never very good at it.” Mr. Miya's warm and deep laugh makes Kiyoomi smile. “I know there are too many, but sometimes you need to immerse yourself in your passion, right?”

“I wish there weren't so many people around mine.”

“By the way, congratulations on the season.”

And that's how the two of them start talking about volleyball. Apparently, Mr. Miya is quite knowledgeable, knowing practically every result of the MSBY games. He certainly doesn't miss a single game his son plays in, despite the distance.

“Omi?!?!”

“Atsumu, leave him alone!”

“But Mom...”

Kiyoomi and Mr. Miya exchange a glance and then look back at the door.

“He came all this way, we're not going to overwhelm him. Go help Aran right now.”

“But Mom... fuck... 'kay...”

Footsteps recede and Mr. Miya laughs softly again.

“Looks like you've been caught, kid.”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later.” Kiyoomi sighs and heads for the door. “It's been a pleasure spending some time with you.”

“Likewise. Good luck, I'll be here a little longer.”

Kiyoomi chuckles as he walks out the door. The room must be fairly soundproof because what were distant voices are now perfectly audible in the hallway. He recognizes Atsumu's laughter immediately, and something twists in his stomach. He still doesn't know what he's doing here, he doesn't know if he's done the right thing, but as he walks down the stairs, he knows he can't back out now.

There is something about Atsumu that captivates him, envelops him, attracts him, and leaves him breathless. It has been like this for months, and it is getting worse. And now, here, in his home, with his family... Kiyoomi feels that it is too much.

“Sakusa, the rumors are true. I thought Atsumu was making it up.” Rintaro Suna's monotonous voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Kiyoomi sighs when he sees a familiar face, even if it is Suna's, who always manages to get on his nerves during games. “I'm glad you came.” The boy approaches with a smile, patting Kiyoomi on the back with his free hand and then walking away. “Oh, Atsumu is out there. That way,” he says, gesturing with his head. “Samu, you owe me money, I told you I’d be here!”

Something that surprises Kiyoomi is that no one asks him what he's doing there, it's as if everyone was expecting him to show up. Although perhaps not everyone, after hearing Suna. Had they made bets? Kiyoomi sighs and tries not to think too much about how annoying it must have been for Atsumu to tell everyone that he had invited him.

When he steps out into the garden, his eyes fall directly on him. Nothing else matters; he can only look at Atsumu. He is in the center of the garden, playing with a boy and a girl. Kiyoomi recognizes them instantly: the twins that Aran and Kita adopted a few years ago. These are the children who run up to Atsumu at the end of some games, shouting “Uncle Tsumu,” and whom Atsumu adores as if they were truly his family. Kiyoomi wishes he didn’t feel his heart sink, because he has seen more family love in people who are not related by blood than he has received from his own real family.

Suddenly, Atsumu's gaze meets his, and he freezes completely.

“Hi,” Kiyoomi manages to whisper in a voice so low that he may not have heard it.

“Come on, kids,” Aran says suddenly, calling to his sons. “Let's see if we can steal some sweets from Uncle Samu.”

The children climb down from Atsumu and run off, passing Kiyoomi and waving goodbye. Aran also passes by, smiling and giving him a pat on the shoulder.

Atsumu and Kiyoomi continue to stare at each other from a distance. The blond blinks slowly as if he were seeing a mirage, and Kiyoomi simply stands there. Suddenly, Atsumu takes a step, then another, and then runs to hug the black-haired. He wraps his arms around his neck so tightly that Kiyoomi staggers backward.

“Sorry,” Atsumu says, realizing what he has just done. Kiyoomi shakes his head. He had taken off his mask when he was with Mr. Miya, and now he misses it because it would serve as his armor. “You came.”

“You invited me,” he replies, trying to sound indifferent, but he feels so many things that his voice trembles slightly.

“I really didn't think you would come.” Atsumu's cheeks are red, and he can't look the other boy in the eye. Kiyoomi finds this gesture so endearing that he can't help but smile.

“Always doing things without thinking, Miya.”

“Always being so stubborn, Sakusa.”

Those two simple sentences break the tension between them. The two boys exhale the air they've been holding in their lungs.

“Are you going to help with the fucking table or what?” Atsumu and Kiyoomi jump at the voice and turn to look inside the house, where Osamu is trying to carry too many glasses in his hands while glaring at them. “I'm so glad you came, Kiyoo. I couldn't stand Tsumu crying all night.”

“Samu!” The dark-haired twin rolls his eyes and Kiyoomi glances sideways as Atsumu blushes.

“Yeah, yeah, but get your asses moving and set the table.”

“Osamu! Kiyoomi is a guest.” Mrs. Miya appears from behind, hitting her son on the head.

“I've never been treated like a guest,” Suna grumbles, appearing as well.

“I don't remember my house without you, Rin, so shut up too.” Despite her words, Suna laughs and kisses the twins' mother on the cheek, who shakes her head while grumbling something.

The three walk away and Kiyoomi breathes again.

“Well, welcome to the Miya house. I hope you're ready,” says Atsumu, putting his arm around Kiyoomi's shoulders.

“I'm scared.”

“Don't worry, you're my mother's favorite.”

And he really is, so much so that Kiyoomi feels embarrassed. Mrs. Miya takes care of him as if he were her own son. No, better than that. She spoils him more than anyone else.

Dinner isn't that different from what he's seen Atsumu have with his friends, since his family is practically made up of them. In addition to the Miyas, there's Suna, and his little sister has also come with her girlfriend. There are also Kita and Aran, with their two children and Aran's parents. The last to arrive was Hitoshi Ginjima, the former Inarizaki spiker. Actually, apart from the family members, Kiyoomi knows everyone, which makes him feel a little more comfortable.

“You okay?” Atsumu whispers as he gives the black-haired a slight squeeze of the hand under the table. Kiyoomi had been forced to sit between the blond and his father, which he is quite grateful for.

“Yes, great.”

He doesn't know what Atsumu sees in his eyes, but he has never seen him smile like that before. Kiyoomi has seen Atsumu in many ways, but never like this. It's as if he's glowing. Not sure why he's doing this, Kiyoomi extends his hand and grabs Atsumu's again, holding it on his leg, wrapping his fingers around it. Atsumu stares at him, but Kiyoomi returns to the conversation Osamu, Kita, and Mr. Miya were having. As if holding hands were the most natural thing in the world.

When dinner is over, Atsumu gestures for Kiyoomi to follow him into the garden. It is already night, so they both grab their coats and go outside. They sit on the other side of the garden, on a small stone bench that brings them very close together, looking towards the house decorated with lights, where they can see the whole family inside. It is cold, so their breath swirls in the mist coming out of their mouths.

“Are you okay?”

“Stop asking,” Kiyoomi replies, gently nudging him with his elbow.

“It’s just that I can usually read your expressions, but... this... I’ve never seen you like this before, so I need to know how you are.”

Kiyoomi turns to Atsumu, who is staring at him. He tries to process what he has just said, especially the concern in his voice.

“I'm really fine, Miya. Stop doing that. You can't worry if you invited me.”

“Well, I didn't really think you would come.”

“So you invited me to look nice.

“What? No, Omi, damn it... I...” Kiyoomi bursts out laughing when he sees Atsumu's frightened expression. “You're an idiot.” The blond crosses his arms and pouts.

“But I'm fine, really, I'm having a great time.” Atsumu sighs with relief. “Thanks for inviting me.” Just as Atsumu said he can read Kiyoomi, the reverse is also true, which is why he knows that behind that gentle smile, Atsumu is full of questions. “My Christmases have nothing to do with this.” He begins to speak softly. "In fact, it's quite the opposite. There is no warmth in my family. When I was little, I hoped that things would change at Christmas, because it's a time of love, but it never did. And I just got fed up. So this year I refused. I just said no, even if it meant disappointing my family and my mother hating me.“ Atsumu is unable to say anything. Kiyoomi looks at him out of the corner of her eye and sees his eyes shine slightly, with a hint of sadness. ”So thank you for inviting me, even if it was because you felt sorry for me."

“That's not why.” Now he looks at him properly. Because of the small bench, the two are very close, so their breaths mix halfway. “It really was an excuse.” The dark-haired's frown encourages the other boy to continue talking. “I... I don't know, Omi, I look for every excuse I can to spend more time together.”

Atsumu's gaze wanders as his cheeks flush. Kiyoomi watches his profile closely as he tries to continue talking.

“Why? Most of the time I treat you badly.” Kiyoomi's voice is almost a whisper, contrasting with Atsumu's laughter as he finally looks back at him. His eyes look more yellow in the light surrounding them.

“Come on, no one takes you seriously, Omi-Omi.” The person in question frowns and Atsumu laughs again. “I know you, you talk like that because you’re trying to keep people away from you. But, I don’t know, I guess I’m stupid and it doesn’t work on me.”

“You certainly are stupid.” Atsumu nods with a silly smile, making Kiyoomi smile. The two boys remain silent, simply looking into each other's eyes, their knees touching, their faces too close. “I... I... well, I guess if I'm here despite hating Christmas, it's because...”

“Uncle Tsumu!!” The voices of the two children startle them, so much so that Atsumu almost falls off the bench as the children run towards them.

“We're leaving now,” says the girl.

“We have to go to bed early or we won't get any presents tomorrow,” continues the boy.

Atsumu opens his arms to hug them.

“Of course, tomorrow I'll come and you can teach me everything, okay?”

“Yes!” The two children hug Atsumu again before walking away. “Bye, Uncle Omi,” they say at the same time as they run off. Kiyoomi resists the urge to put her hand to her heart due to the adorable attack she has just received and because the only thing she regrets about not being with her family is not seeing her nephews.

“Uncle Omi is so cute, I can't take it,” says Atsumu, making the gesture that Kiyoomi has restrained himself from making.

“My nephews call me Uncle Kiyoo,” adds Kiyoomi, standing next to Atsumu.

“Enough, I'm going to die from cuteness.”

Kiyoomi is actually grateful for the interruption. He didn't know what he was about to say, but it wasn't going to be appropriate. It's one thing for Atsumu to say he likes spending time with him, but Kiyoomi was close to saying that he feels like he's falling in love. And no, that can't be. He needs to control himself, not get carried away by all the love that permeates this house. He is intoxicated by the Miya family's love, and that's not good.

“It's cold, let's go back inside.” Kiyoomi walks away before Atsumu can say anything, although he hears him stammering behind him before he starts walking too.

“Oh, great,” says Suna, almost bumping into them. “I was looking for you, it's presents time!”

Kiyoomi looks at Atsumu, but he just lights up and runs after Suna. The black-haired follows them into the living room where only Kita, Aran, and the children are missing. The rest are sitting around the room surrounding a pile of wrapped packages in the center; Suna throws himself on top of Osamu, who is on the sofa next to Aran's parents, Mrs. Miya is on the arm of the recliner where Mr. Miya is sitting, and Suna's sister and his girlfriend are on the floor next to Ginjima. Atsumu motions for Kiyoomi to sit on the other armchair, but Kiyoomi slowly declines and sits on a chair a little further away. He doesn't want to be in the center while everyone is handing out gifts; he prefers to watch their faces.

The distribution begins, and the gifts are passed around with excitement. Kiyoomi can't help but smile as he watches everyone's happiness as they open their gifts.

“This is for you, dear,” says Mrs. Miya, handing him a package.

“For me?” He picks it up with trembling hands.

“It's a silly little thing, I hope you like it.” She pinches his cheek gently and walks away again.

Kiyoomi holds the package delicately, trying to keep his hands from shaking and holding back the tears that well up in his eyes. He barely looks up to glance around, grateful that no one is paying attention to him, except for Atsumu, who looks at him sideways with a smile, trying not to put too much pressure on him.

Slowly, he manages to open the gift and take out the soft, light brown scarf. He caresses it, swallowing to compose himself before looking up at Mr. and Mrs. Miya, who are smiling at him.

“It's beautiful, thanks so much, he manages to say. But what he gets in response is Atsumu jumping up towards him, a package in his hands. “What's that?”

“For you,”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no, Omi?” Atsumu kneels in front of him, looking at him with that puppy-dog expression that Kiyoomi finds so endearing.

“Why? I don't understand.” The words come out in a rush and Kiyoomi can barely breathe. He can't and doesn't want to look away from Atsumu's eyes, afraid of looking too ridiculous in front of the rest of the family.

“You don't have to understand anything, stubborn.” Atsumu places the gift on Kiyoomi's lap and taps his thigh to get him to open it.

“Atsumu...” Kiyoomi hisses, unable to say anything.

“Come on, open it now,” insists the blond man with a big smile.

Taking a deep breath and putting his trauma aside, he focuses on the gift and Atsumu’s excited face. He opens it slowly, so slowly that Atsumu is getting impatient, even though he doesn’t say anything. When he removes the wrapping paper, he is speechless.

“I remember once, at Meian's house, playing with his son, you said you always wanted one and never had it,” Atsumu almost whispers, his voice soft and sweet, accompanied by a smile and bright eyes. Kiyoomi says nothing, simply staring at the robot that transforms into an airplane in his hands, one of those gifts he always asked for at Christmas and never received. When he looks up at the blond , he can't see him because his tears blur everything. “Omi... say something, please...”

“I... I'm sorry, this is too much.”

He barely finishes the sentence before jumping up and running out of the living room. He puts on his shoes and leaves the house without listening to anything, he just needs to get away. The cold hits him hard, but he just runs to his car.

“Omi, damn it, wait.” He is about to open the door when Atsumu puts a hand on it, pushing it hard. “What's wrong? Did I do something bad?" Kiyoomi just shakes his head and tries to open the door again. “No, you're not leaving without telling me what's wrong.”

“It's too much... you all... I...” Kiyoomi can't speak, his thoughts racing and tears running down his cold cheeks.

“Okay. Hey, stop. Breathe, Omi, please.” Atsumu holds Kiyoomi by the shoulders and pushes him against the car, placing a hand on his chest, gently, inviting him to follow his breathing. “It's okay, nothing's wrong. Please don't leave. Talk to me.”

And with those words, Kiyoomi breaks down. He hugs Atsumu, burying his face in his neck and sobbing softly as the other boy wraps his arms around him and comforts him with gentle caresses and warm words.

“I'm sorry...” Kiyoomi whispers, pulling away and wiping his tears with the sleeve of his sweater.

“It's okay, Omi, I know this might be too much for you.” Atsumu caresses Kiyoomi's cheeks, red from the cold, to wipe away the tears as well. “I'm sorry—.”

“No, please don't apologize,” he interrupts quickly. The two are so close that the air between them is warm from their breath. They continue to hug and whisper despite being completely alone. “I... I'm not used to this, and you have a wonderful family. I just got overwhelmed and didn't know how to handle it. I'm sorry, please forgive me.”

Atsumu interrupts his words. With a quick movement, he presses his lips against Kiyoomi's, silencing him. It's a quick kiss, more like a clash of lips that leaves both boys paralyzed.

“Omi... so-sorry...”

But Kiyoomi pulls Atsumu close, wrapping his arms around his neck to kiss him again, this time the kiss is totally hungry, both of them having waited too long for it to happen. They kiss until they can barely breathe.

They don't separate much, keeping their foreheads together, without letting go, catching their breath.

“You called me Atsumu earlier,” whispers the blond with a laugh.

“That's a lie.” Kiyoomi tries to silence him by kissing him, but Atsumu pulls away, laughing.

“You did! I liked it.” Now it's Kiyoomi who laughs. He can't help himself and starts kissing his neck, repeating the other boy's name over and over, making him giggle.

“You're shivering from the cold, Omi,” Atsumu murmurs softly.

“So are you.”

“But not from the cold.” The blond laughs and pulls the other boy by the cheeks to kiss him again. “You okay?” he whispers against his lips.

“Now I am.”

“Great, let’s go back inside.” Atsumu pulls Kiyoomi’s hand, but he doesn’t move.

“I... I don't know if I should.” Atsumu's angry look makes Kiyoomi recoil in fear.

“For fuck's sake, don't be silly. Everyone's going to pretend nothing happened, and damn it, I'm freezing.” Atsumu pulls again, and Kiyoomi gives in, walking slowly.

“What about us?” mutters the black-haired, making Atsumu snort.

“We have plenty of time to talk, don't you think?” Before entering the house, Atsumu turns around and pulls Kiyoomi close again, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I'm not going to lie, Omi, this scares me, but... I don't know, I think you're my Christmas present.”

Kiyoomi has never smiled so widely or so intensely. Even his cheeks hurt from the cold and the smile as he pulls Atsumu in for a passionate kiss. When they pull apart, the two boys laugh softly.

“Does that mean I can be your gift again next year?” Atsumu's eyes widen, processing the words he just heard, until he frowns and lets out a small sigh.

“What? No! No way.” The two enter the house holding hands. “Next year I'm expecting a super giant gift. What am I saying! I want a gift tomorrow, I deserve it.”

“Yes, you do.” Before entering the living room, Kiyoomi holds him back and kisses him again. “I have some ideas in mind,” he whispers as he plants soft kisses on his face, making Atsumu laugh.

Although Atsumu has lied about something, everyone pretends that nothing has happened except Mrs. Miya. When the two boys sit down on the couch close together, the woman begins to scold them for going out in such cold weather without jackets, while wrapping them in a blanket and forcing Osamu to make them a hot drink.

Kiyoomi doesn't know how things will be from now on, he doesn't know if next year he will have another Christmas like this, but what he does know is that once you experience the warmth of the Miya family, nothing is ever the same again.