Chapter Text
“You look beautiful, Omi,” Atsumu whispered reverently after what felt like an eternity of him just leaning on the doorframe, staring at the groom from a modest distance.
Kiyoomi was standing in front of a full length mirror, eyebrows furrowed, relentlessly loosening his tie a tiny fraction before tightening it again, never seeming to be quite satisfied with how it looked.
Atsumu thought it was ridiculous, because every inch of Kiyoomi looked perfect—always did, but especially today. The light filtered in through the window and illuminated him in such a way that Atsumu felt like he got the wind knocked out of him as soon as he walked in, hence the ages spent staring in silence before he was able to even alert the man of his presence.
“Jesus. You startled me, Atsu. How long have you been standing there?” Kiyoomi chided as he briefly met the blonde’s eyes through the mirror before turning around to face him.
And if Atsumu was rendered breathless before, seeing the full view of Kiyoomi and having his attention on him managed to steal what little air was left in his lungs. He took a deep breath to recover, but the ache persisted.
“Sorry.” He chuckled as he pushed himself from the doorway and made his way over, reaching out to fix Kiyoomi’s tie for him. “Was just admirin’ the view, Omi.”
Unfortunately, Atsumu was too laser focused on the stupid tie to notice how his last statement made his best friend blush.
“There ya go,” he stated when he was done fiddling with the offending garment, gently running his hand through it once before letting go and tilting his head, looking pleased with his work.
Kiyoomi looked back at the mirror and nodded in satisfaction, even though if we’re being real, the tie barely looked any different. Atsumu knew that all the fiddling had more to do with the man’s nerves than with the tie actually being out of place, so he figured that Kiyoomi would calm down if his best friend swooped in to “fix” it. And he was right.
“How ya feelin’? Motoya said you were freakin’ out a little bit, so I thought I would check in.”
“Okay, I guess. A little nervous. I mean, I’m getting married for fuck’s sake. It would be weirder if I wasn’t nervous, right?” The groom asked, his nervous statement being punctuated by an equally nervous chuckle.
“Hm, I guess yer right,” Atsumu concurred. He was a little distracted, seeing their reflection in the mirror, stood side by side wearing their finest suits. It almost looked like they were the ones getting married. If Atsumu just kept staring at their reflection then maybe he could live in that fantasy just a little while longer.
“Atsu?” Kiyoomi called out gently, taking the blonde out of his reverie.
“Yeah?” Atsumu looked back at him, despite the monumental amount of effort it took for him to peel his eyes away from the fantasy that lived in the mirror and in his head.
Right. That wasn’t the reality he was living in. Kiyoomi was a groom, but he wasn’t his groom.
“Are you okay? You look a little out of it yourself,” Kiyoomi remarked, narrowing his eyes at the blonde.
“I’m fine, Omi. It’s just… yer gettin’ married. My best friend’s gettin’ married,” he responded wistfully. What he was wistful for exactly was still up in the air.
Well, the truth was that he was wistful for what they could have been instead, if he hadn’t spent the last five-odd years being a coward. But his tone could also easily be dismissed as more of a general, Ah, I’m feeling wistful because my best friend is getting married; how time flies. So he figured he was in the clear.
“Oh no, are you freaking out too? You can’t freak out, Atsumu. We can’t both be freaking out. You’re my best man. You’re supposed to keep me sane until I walk down the aisle,” Kiyoomi rambled.
Atsumu recognized this as a telltale sign of his best friend’s anxiety getting kicked up a notch, so he resolved to put his own feelings about the big day aside and step comfortably into his role of best man. It was a part he played surprisingly well, considering the sheer amount of longing he had to bury in order to do so.
“I’m not freakin’ out, dummy,” he assured with a chuckle. “Relax. I’ll get you to that aisle in one piece. I’m just a little emotional, is all.”
“Yeah?” Kiyoomi nodded, sufficiently calmed by the air of ease Atsumu exuded. Man, was he good at masking his inner turmoil or what?
“Of course, Omi. I mean… yer gettin’ married.”
“We’ve already established that,” Kiyoomi joked, their easy banter always coming in clutch even in tense moments.
“Shut up,” Atsumu quipped back, unable to hide the fondness in his ensuing giggle. “Must ya ruin the moment with yer attitude?”
Right. This was what he was protecting all those years ago when he decided to let Kiyoomi go. Their friendship was the most important thing in his life—a connection that ran so deep that the only other time he had ever felt anything remotely close to it was with his own damn twin.
He couldn’t risk jeopardizing it by trying to make it something more, not when he knew for a fact that most relationships ended eventually. He would rather have Kiyoomi as a friend for the rest of his life than have him as something more for a while before inevitably losing him altogether.
“I’m happy fer ya, Omi. Really,” he said with finality—his longing safely buried, and with renewed vigor that he made the right decision.
And he meant it. Well, mostly. Atsumu supposed both things could be true at the same time. He was steadfast in his decision to keep their friendship above everything else, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t always be a part of him that regretted ever letting Kiyoomi go.
This could’ve been them. This could’ve been his day, too. He could’ve been the one waiting for Kiyoomi at the end of that aisle, instead of the one just making sure he got there in one piece.
But that wasn’t the reality he was living in, and he had to accept that. He thought he already had ages ago, since the moment he gave up on them. But that doubt never really went away, and at this point he wasn’t sure if it ever would.
Kiyoomi accepted his words in the moment and offered him a soft smile in response. They stood there for a while just looking at each other, all of their what-ifs throughout the years floating in the air. The longer he stood there with Kiyoomi looking at him like that, the more Atsumu wanted to pluck one of those what-ifs out of the air and speak it into existence.
He wondered what would happen if he did. He considered it for no more than a brief moment. And in that moment, he was happy. He could almost see it: him asking Kiyoomi if he ever thought about them still, and if there was any part of him that wanted to take Atsumu’s hand and walk right out that door, leaving all of this behind—deposits, responsibilities, expectations, and other people’s broken hearts be damned.
But this wasn’t a movie. His best friend was getting married, and there was nothing he could do about it. He already made his bed years ago. People in movies who were in this situation declared their love and ran away and drove off into the sunset together. But people in real life who were in this situation did no such thing. So Atsumu did no such thing.
Instead, their little moment was interrupted by Motoya knocking on the door and telling them that they were expected downstairs in five minutes.
“Ya ready, Omi?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
***
Tell me not to do it. Please. Tell me not to do it and I won’t. Ask me to leave with you and I will. Atsumu. This is our last chance. Please.
That was what was going through Kiyoomi’s mind as Atsumu checked in on him minutes before he was supposed to get married.
It was a thought that crossed his mind multiple times throughout the years. Atsumu had many an opportunity to do it.
He could’ve done it way back when Kiyoomi was first reunited with Wakatoshi, or when Kiyoomi agreed to start things up with him again. Maybe even whenever Kiyoomi and him had an argument and he went to Atsumu to vent. Or perhaps when they moved in together. Or how about when Wakatoshi proposed and Kiyoomi said yes? Or when Kiyoomi asked Atsumu to be his best man and he said yes? He also could’ve done it when they were planning the wedding, and really every other goddamn moment in between.
Atsumu could’ve done it at any point in the last five years, and Kiyoomi couldn’t tell you that he would’ve said no. But Atsumu didn’t. And now, minutes before his wedding, Kiyoomi felt like it was his last chance to ever hear those words from him.
He was aware that this made him sound like he was going to be an awful future husband to anyone other than Atsumu. But Kiyoomi loved Wakatoshi. He really did.
It was just that a part of him would always burn for Atsumu. If there was ever a case to be made for the possibility of being in love with two people at the same time, Kiyoomi thought he was the perfect example.
He loved Wakatoshi and the stillness that came with the life that they had built together. He wouldn’t have stayed with him all these years if he didn’t, nor would he have said yes to spending the rest of his life with him.
But Atsumu was that one nagging thought at the back of his mind, that one possibility he could never stop thinking about.
How the fuck did they even get here? Five minutes away from Kiyoomi walking down the aisle to spend the rest of his life with someone else, while hanging on to the last thread of hope that Atsumu would ask him not to?
To answer that question, Kiyoomi’s mind went back to that fateful day five years ago when Atsumu first decided to let him go.