Chapter Text
It was a humid summer afternoon, cicadas buzzed relentlessly hidden in the trees as the heat clung hot and heavy against their skin. Atsumu wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and immediately regretted it.
Because now he was sweaty and sticky, oh great.
“God,” he groaned, tugging at the collar of his shirt, peeling the damp fabric off his skin. “Why is it always this damn hot?”
Behind him, the gym doors creaked open as the rest of the team filtered out. The sudden shift from the stuffy gym air to the even hotter summer heat made a few groan in unison.
Atsumu glanced around
No one answered him
Which was rude, first of all. Even if it wasn't a real question. But someone could’ve at least told him to shut up. He turned slightly scanning the group, Aran was downing a water bottle, Kita stood nearby listening to something Omimi was saying, and someone laughed near the bike racks.
But something caught Atsumu's eyes as they drifted towards the concrete steps by the entrance. The thing is that, Atsumu had known Suna since first year tryouts, when he and Osamu were still crappy first years trying to prove themselves and Suna was there as well. He was much taller than them back then, but Atsumu believes they’ve caught up. Atsumu remembers the late night convenience store runs where Atsumu would get a pudding cup and Osamu would copy him and get the same while Suna pretended he didn’t know them as he slipped away with a bag of chuppets.
But one thing that stuck to Atsumu since then was that Suna Rintarou is not a touchy person. He’d always find ways to escape from Atsumu's grasps and slip away to do who knows what on his phone. The only time he let Atsumu do some sort of physical contact was the day after he and Osamu made up from their argument. Atsumu had gone to school that morning with a smile planted easily on his face as he walked beside his brother, steps in sync as they made their way into the gym. Suna glanced up at them, his eyes flickered with a hint of concern but quickly shifted to relief as he saw the twins. The corners of Suna’s mouth lifted a bit, just slightly, like a hesitant smile forming. Before he could say anything, Atsumu ran towards him, steps echoing throughout the gym and pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around him without thinking for even a second. It was instinctual, and Atsumu braced himself for the usual reaction, he was sure Suna would push him away.
But instead, Suna didn’t pull away. His arms wrapped lightly around Atsumu as his hand lightly patted his back. It was so not Suna, but it was unfortunately enough to break whatever composure Atsumu had left before he cried for the third time that week, draining him. Ugh the struggles of being emotional…
Atsumu snapped back to reality because the point was that Suna and Osamu were side by side on the concrete steps outside the gym, tucked under a patch of shade from the overhang. Suna leaned back on his hands and stretched legs out in front of him like he owned the space. Osamu sat beside him, knees pulled up against his chest as he gazed at Suna with the softest, fondest looking expression. Like as if Suna hung the moon or something.
Atsumu poked Ginjima’s shoulder as he asked, “Don’t they look touchy today…?”
“Whatcha mean?” Ginjima asked as his eyes followed Atsumu's finger, leading to where Osamu and Suna sat. “No..? they’ve always been like that Atsumu…”
Atsumu squinted harder, like that would somehow change the image in front of him. It didn’t help, if anything, it made things worse. Because now Suna was saying something, head tilting as a stray brown lock fell on his face, and Osamu's hand brushed it out of his face and tucked it behind Suna's ear gently.
“No Gin– since when did Sunarin let people in his personal space??” he shrieked, arms waving dramatically to express whatever they were witnessing now.
Ginjima raised a brow, “Since… always? Yer just not in it.”
“I don’t see ya in it”
“Seriously, they’ve always been like that. Samu and Suna. I swear”
Atsumu sighed and clicked his tongue, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall. Was Gin right? Were they always like this and Atsumu was just blind and hadn’t noticed till now??
He closed the distance as he strided over to the two, Osamu looked up and his expression flattened instantly.
“What d’ya want?” he asked, not moving an inch.
Atsumu stopped in front of them, hands on his hip as his eyes darted between the two like he was trying to solve something.
“...What?” Osamu asked, brow lifting in genuine concern.
Atsumu pointed at them, “Whats this?”
Suna looked down, “concrete”
“No!” Atsumu said, arms gesturing dramatically at them, “this!”
“Bold of you to assume that we know what ‘this’ is” Suna deadpanned
“He means us, Rin.” Osamu said.
Suna snorted softly under his breath, “he finally realized?”
“What is this??” Atsumu asked again
“This is my business, not yers, dipshit.” Osamu said lazily as he leaned back on his arms, shoulder still brushing against Suna’s
Atsumu’s brows furrowed and crossed his arms, “Well yer business is sitting too close to my best friend.”
“Yer best friend’s datin’ me, dumbass.”
Atsumu’s brain spiraled back to last week's memories,desperately trying to catch up with Osamu’s words. He realized that Suna had been hanging around more, the way Osamu looked at him, the stupid look Osamu does only when he looks at Suna, and it clicked. Osamu had gone to Suna’s place the night they made up.
Atsumu hadn’t thought much of it at the time, he just figured his brother needed space after their heartfelt talk that made Atsumu cry like a baby and his mother had to drag him to go grocery shopping with her so he’d get some fresh air. That night he came home carrying plastic grocery bags digging into his finger as he nudged the door open with a light kick.
“Samu!” he shouted, “Help with the groceries, will ya?” but he was met with no answer
Atsumu dropped one bag onto the counter with a soft thud as he peeked his head into the living room. No sound, lights were off, and no ‘do it yerself’ from the couch. Atsumu frowned and clicked his tongue, hauling the rest of the bags inside himself.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, though there was no bite to it. “Pickin’ a fight and then ditchin’ me right after… what a jerk.”
At the time, Atsumu had just shrugged it off. But now standing in front of them, watching the way Osamu did the ‘suna look’ (or the ‘sunarin look’ if we’re speaking Atsumu), hit him all at once.
“Ya went to his place that night, didn’t ya!?”
Osamu scoffed at him, “Yeah, finally used yer brain for once?”
“Shut up!” Atsumu’s voice pitched up, "That was the night we made up!”
“Yeah”
“Ya made up with me and then went– went and made it official with him right after??”
“You’re making it sound like a big deal–”
“It is a big deal! How come you never told me!?”
Osamu shifted slightly, his knee bumping against Suna’s, “Look– Tsumu, m’ sorry we didn’ tell you but it was just–” He scratched the back of his neck, “We weren’t ready.”
“Weren’t ready?” Atsumu repeated, voice cracking from climbing an octave. “What does that even mean? Yer tellin’ me ya just– what? Accidentally started datin’?”
Osamu and Suna exchanged a look. It seemed as if they just held an entire conversation from their eyes.
“Kinda,” Suna said finally with a shrug
“Kinda?”
“We didn’t even know it was real..” Osamu added, “At first. It just… kinda happened. I guess.”
"It just happened.” Atsumu echoed, deadpan.
“Yeah”
“Like– oops! We fell into a relationship? That kinda just happened?”
Suna snorted, “when you say it like that it sounds stupid.”
“Beacause it is!!”
Osamu sighed heavily, pushing himself up to sit straighter. “Atsumu, look.”
Atsumu blinked, his mouth closed immediately since Osamu always had used ‘tsumu’, unless things were serious. Or unless he was about to be incredibly annoying.
“Me an’ Rin,” Osamu continued, “I know we should’ve told ya, properly. Instead of ya findin’ out like.. this” he gestured vaguely, “We were caught up in the moment and– yeah it just happened.” Osamu looked at Suna who gave him a small smile, “By then it’d been months, and telling you felt weird because you were– we thought you knew? But you didn’t, obviously.”
He nodded towards Atsumu’s frozen expression, “Which is on us, so.. Yeah sorry Tsumu.”
Atsumu’s brain short circuited, “Sorry?” he repeated
Osamu frowned, “Yeah, I just said–”
“Yer apologizing?" Atsumu’s hands flew to his head, fingers threading through his hair like was trying to prevent hairloss from coming.. “Oh my god, Miya Osamu is apologizing to me? This is– this is a once in a lifetime event!! Who are you and what have you done with my brother!?”
“Shut up.”
“No no no, I need a moment, I need– Ginjima! Gin!” Atsumu spun around, Ginjima had already wandered off into the gym with Aran. “Damn it. Someone needs to record this historic event.”
“Shut up–” Osamu said flatly, but the tips of his ears were pink.
“Sunarin made you so soft! Aww–” Atsumu shrieked before grabbing Osamu's wrists before he could lunge on him and give him hair loss or something. Atsumu grinned widely, “I didn’t think ya had it in ya, Samu. I really didn't"
“I said shut up or I’ll take it back.”
"Ya can’t take an apology back!! That's not how it works!”
“Watch me.”
Suna laughed under his breath, Atsumu and Osamu’s heads turned towards him and it broke the tension in the air between them. Osamu’s mouth twitched until he couldn’t hold back a smile as he let go of Atsumu and sat back down beside Suna, whose head immediately leaned against his shoulder.
Atsumu stood there, sweaty and gross, watching his brother laugh with Suna Rintarou pressed against his shoulder, and felt something warm settle in his chest.
“I’m happy for ya,” he said, voice dropping to something softer. A slight breeze brushed past them, cool against their warm skin– like the first bite of a popsicle on a sticky summer day.
“Seriously” he said before they could speak, shoving his hands into his shorts since they don’t have pockets. “Like, I’m mad ya didn’t tell me. I’m gonna remember this forever, by the way. Forever, Samu. But…” he shrugged, looking away because this was getting too sappy for his liking. “Yer happy, Rin’s happy, ya make each other happy. I can tell.”
Suna raised an eyebrow, “That almost sounded mature,” but there was no bite to it.
Osamu studied him for a long moment before the tension in his shoulders finally dropped. “Thanks Tsumu.” He said finally.
“Yeah, yeah” Atsumu waved him off, “Don’t get all sappy on me now”
Osamu’s mouth opened, but Atsumu cut him off, jabbing a finger at the both of them, “But! I’m gonna get married before ya two.”
Osamu snorted, “What?!”
"Ya heard me! I’m gonna get married first. I’m gonna find someone gorgeous and wonderful and I’m gonna have the biggest wedding and yer gonna stand there in an ugly tux and watch me win in life.”
“Thats not– it’s not a competition, Tsumu.”
“Everything’s a competition.”
Suna tilted his head, “bold of you to assume we wanna get married.”
Osamu spun his head towards him, “So ya won’t say yes if I propose?”
The tip of Suna’s ears turned pink as he avoided eye contact, “I didn’t say that I didn’t wanna…” he took a sip from his water bottle, “save this chat when we're alone, too, stupid.”
Osamu shook his head, but he was smiling that stupid Sunarin smile again, he didn’t say anything in response, because he didn't need to.
Because Suna already knew. They were just two idiots sharing a single brain cell that Atsumu was pretty sure he was in fact not invited to borrow. As if he even needs it!
“Whatever!” Atsumu said, sticking his tongue out at them, “Ya two can be all sappy however ya want. Just watch, I'll find someone who loves me more than you two combined!”
✧✧✧
That was three years ago.
The bell above Onigiri Miya’s door jingled as Atsumu shuffled in at 9:49 pm.
Osamu looked up from wiping down the counter, took one look at his brother’s face, and immediately reached for the bottle of sake he kept under the register for emergencies.
“Ten minutes ‘til closin’,” Osamu said, as he continued to wipe the counter.
“Don’t care.”
“Ya gotta care, I got shit to do.”
Atsumu didn't respond. Just shuffled to the counter, and planted his elbows– directly on the freshly wiped surface. Osamu grimaced. He dropped his forehead onto his arms with a groan that could probably at this point, give him hair loss.
Osamu stared at him. The rice cooked hummed softly in the background, matching the tunes of the cicadas buzzing outside in the breezy spring night. Somewhere in the back, the radio played a quiet jazz station Kita recommended three years ago and Osamu never bothered to change it.
“...So,” Osamu started carefully, “Ya gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are ya just here to ruin my counter?”
Atsumu groaned again and turned his head to the other side, “m’ never datin’ again,” he mumbled, “ever. I’m done. Gonna be alone forever. M’ gonna die alone and no one’s gonna find my body ‘cause I'll have no one to check on me.”
Osamu set down his rag. This was, unfortunately, a reoccurring speech. He’d heard variations before, but tonight sounded more tired than theatrical. “Alright,” Osamu said, leaning against the opposite counter as he crossed his arms, “What happened?”
Atsumu lifted his head just slightly, enough to rest his chin against his arms. His pale, sun bleached hair was a mess, it stuck up on one side and flattened on the other. His expensive concealer couldn't even hide the dark circles under his eyes. He looked, quite frankly, like shit.
“Haru broke up with me.”
Osamu blinked, trying to remember just which one this was, “...Haru? The…model?”
“Yeah.”
“The one ya brought to our birthday dinner two months ago?”
“Yeah.”
“The one that kept callin’ ya ‘babe?’”
Atsumu’s left eye twitched, “Yes, Samu. That Haru.”
Osmu pressed his lips together. He really, really tired not to laugh. But the memory of Hru patting Atsumu’s head like a small puppy while Atsumu preened under the attention was printed into his brain forever. Osamu cleared his throat, “I thought things were goin’ well,” Osamu asked.
“So did I!” Atsumu sat up abruptly, hand slapping the counter. “Thats the thing! We were fine! And good! We went to that fancy restaurant last week and he laughed at my jokes and I laughed at his jokes and it was nice, Samu. It was nice.”
“So what went wrong?”
Atsumu deflated like a balloon slowly, his shoulders slumped, “he said… he said he could tell I wasn’t really in to.. Us.” his voice went quiet.
Osamu’s expression softened, he shifted the weight to his left leg, “Were ya?”
“I wanted to be.” Atsumu ran a hand through his shriveled hair, messing it even more, “I really wanted to be. He was funny and cute and he didn't mind the travel schedule.. And he made me laugh, Samu. but…”
“But?”
“But it didn’t feel right, I kept thinkin’...” Atsumu’s eyes flickered to his hands, as if they would offer an answer, “I kept thinkin’ this wasn’t right, even if I don't know what it's supposed to feel like. But I knew for sure I didnt… love him like..” He paused, and took a deep breath, “...how you love sunarin. Or Sunarin loves you, ya know…?”
Osamu listened, nodding his head while he reached under the counter and pulled out two small cups and poured the sake in, the liquid sloshed around the cup before settling down, just to be picked up and drunk by Atsumu immediately.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “He said, he thought we should stop before we start resentin’ each other. He said I was emotionally unavailable! Can ya believe that? Me? Emotionally unavailable?”
Osamu raised his left eyebrows, unamused, “Ya sure he said ‘emotionally unavailable…?” he asked, a tint of worriness in his voice.
Atsumu wrapped his hands around the cup, “..he said that he didn’t feel the ‘love’ from me. That I treat him the same way I treat everyone else.” he frowned.
Osamu thought about the way Atsumu poured his whole heart into everything– volleyball, fights with Osamu, random strangers who needed help. He knew Atsumu just loved… a little differently.
He sighed, taking a sip from his cup and pulling up a stool across from Atsumu, “What's yer type? Start from here. How do ya actually wanna be treated ‘Tsumu??”
Atumu stared at him like he was just asked to solve world hunger. His gaze dropped to his sake cup, “I want…” he started, voice thick and slow, “to be seen.”
Osamu waited
“Like really seen,” he continued, “not ‘Miya Atsumu, MBSY star setter version’, ya know? I want…someone who sees me, like the real me an’ understands the way I work, the way I express myself.”
Osamu slotted his chin between his fingers, brows scrunching together. This was… specific, more specific than he’d expected.
“Someone who remembers the small stuff,” Atsumu went on, running his mouth as the cup wobbled in his grip, “Someone who’s…steady, who doesn’t run away when I get difficult.”
Osamu reached out and gently pried it from his fingers before he could drop it, "That's oddly specific, ‘Tsumu.” He said quietly, “Ya got someone in mind.”
Atsumu’s head snapped up, “What? No, no I don’t. I'm just describin’- I dont–”
“Yer slurrin’, Tsumu.”
“M’ not.”
“Ya absolutely are.”
“‘M’fine.”
“Yer the opposite of fine.”
Atsumu tried to scowl but it came out more like a pout.
Osamu sighed, long and heavy. This was worse than he thought, because his brother wasn’t just sad, moping over a break up but he was also spinning in circles. He was chasing something he couldn't even name.
Or maybe he could name it.
Maybe he just wasn’t ready to.
“Alright,” Osamu said, standing up. “I’m closin’ up now. Get up or yer neck is gonna strain-”
The bell above the door jingled as both twins turned. Suna stepped in first, one hand in the pocket of his big hoodie and his phone in the other. He took one look at the scene: Atsumu slumped over the counter while a sake bottle and Osamu stood there, looking at him with a worried expression.
Suna raised an eyebrow, “I was gone for… how long??” he drawled as he held the door wider for another figure to step in.
Sakusa walked in, his eyes swept the room, cataloging the sake bottle, dirty rag in the middle of being used, and the disaster of a specific blonde hunched over against the table. He scrunched his nose.
“Kiyoomi’s here to pick up that bag of rice from Kita,” Suna said, tilting his head towards him.
Osamu blinked, before he finally snapped out of his trance, “Oh yeah, yes, it’s in the back. Just let me-” He glanced at Atsumu, who hadn’t moved, his left cheek was still pressed against the counter, while he pouted the biggest pout one could ever imagine.
Suna must have read his mind, because he was already moving. He slid onto the stool beside Atsumu, leaning against the counter as he brushed a stray strand of messy, wheat golden hair off his (hopefully) soon-to-be-future-brother-in-law.
“Go get the rice,” Suna said quietly, gaze not leaving the figure in front of him. “I got him.”
Osamu hesitated, but seeing Suna’s small, encouraging smile made him feel at ease. It felt steady, like the kind of steady Atsumu had been talking about earlier.
“Ill be back,” He finally said.
“Take your time.”
Osamu disappeared into the kitchen, the Noren curtains flapping behind him as the restaurant fell into a soft quiet. The jazz played quietly in the background while the air conditioner hummed, somehow melodic. Suna didn’t say anything at first. He sat there with one hand resting lightly against the back of Atsumu’s head, hand running through his hair as if he was attempting to fix it for him.
Atsumu sighed against his arms, his face peeking out slightly as he muffled by his sleeve, “How d’ya know what happened?”
Suna’s lips twitched. “What else would you be moping over? You’ve got 3 moods, volleyball, food, and relationship issues. And you just ate, so.” he said, stretching the ‘so’.
Atsumu glared at him with one eye, “That's reductive, Sunarin.”
“I’m right tho”
“M’not moping.”
“Look at yourself, Tsumu.”
Atsumu groaned, still loud even if it was muffled by his hoodie sleeve. He then dropped his head back down and muttered something into his arms. His eyes burned, despite the many tears that fell without permission earlier.
“You’re gonna be fine, Tsumu.” Suna said, soft enough that only Atsumu could hear.
Atsumu didn’t respond, but the tears that had gathered in his eyes dried a little. Just a little, don’t feed into Sunarin’s ego like that.
The Noren curtains flapped again as Osamu emerged, carrying a large sack of rice slung over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. He paused when he saw Suna, hand still in Atsumu’s hair, and Atsumu’s posture looking less rigid than before. Something warm flickered across Osamu's face, as he set the rice down by the door and walked over to press a quick kiss to the top of Suna’s head.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hi,” Suna replied, tipping his head back to look up at him.
“How was it?” Osamu asked, “With Motoya.”
Suna shrugged, “It was fine. He's going through a romantic crisis.”
Osamu raised his eyebrows, “Again?”
“Again,” Suna confirmed, the corners of his mouth twitching up a little, “He apparently saw the ‘cute mystery stranger’ at a cafe with another woman and Motoya is convinced it's a sign that he's destined to die alone.”
Osamu snorted, “That sounds familiar.”
“Shut up Samu.” Atsumu mumbled from the counter.
Suna chuckled, his hands intertwining with Osamu’s, fingers laced together like they’d done it a thousand times. Osamu’s thumb traced circled over Suna’s knuckles– cough
They both froze.
Sakusa stood by the door, one hand adjusting his mask as his eyebrows raised in impatience. His eyes flicked between their intertwined hands, “I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, “Am I interrupting something?”
Osamu dropped Suna's hands and his ears went pink, “No.” he said as he made his way towards the rice bag again.
“Don’t be jealous, Omi.” Suna said at the same time, grinning. Sakusa just glared daggers at him.
“Kiyoomi,” Osamu said,lifting the rice bag again, “I can bring this to yer car. Save ya the trip.”
Sakusa nodded once. “That would be great. Thank you.”
Osamu moved towards the door, a rice bag balanced against his hip while Sakusa followed.
But his gaze drifted back to the counter.
To Atsumu.
He was still slumped, still sad, still wearing that exhausted, defeated face that didn’t belong on someone like him.
“I can take him home.” Sakusa said before he could even stop himself.
The words landed like stone in still water.
Osamu froze mid-step and Suna’s hand stopped in Atsumu’s hair.
“...what?” Osamu said.
“I said I can take him home,” Sakusa repeated, tone unchanged. “He’s in no state to drive. And you’re closing up, and your boyfriend is here.”
“The last part wasn’t necessary." Suna deadpanned, slowly removing his hands from Atsumu’s hair.
“Ya sure?” Osamu asked slowly, cautiously, “It’s not– He can stay the night or–”
“I’m sure”
Osamu still looked uncertain, his grip on the rice bag tightened. Sakusa didn’t wait for more permission, he slathered his hands in hand sanitizer before he stepped up to the counter and looked down at Atsumu, who was staring up at him with his glassy, confused eyes.
“Up,” he said.
Atsumu blinked. “What?”
“Up. We're leaving.”
“I– what? I can’t–”
“Yes, you can.” Sakusa sighed, hooking a hand under Atsumu’s arm and pulled him to his feet. Atsumu swayed and stumbled, eventually grabbing onto Sakusa’s bicep to steady himself.
“M’sorry,” Atsumu slurred
“You can apologize later. Walk."
Suna giggled as he snapped a quick picture and twiddled his fingers bye at them.
Outside, the night air was cool and damp. Sakusa’s car glimmered under the moonlight as Osamu popped the trunk open and loaded the rice bag inside, slamming it shut then dusting his hands afterwards. Sakusa had already guided Atsumu to the passenger side, he fell more than he sat into the seat, buckling in with fumbling, clumsy fingers.
Osamu peeked into the car and looked at his brother, who was already half asleep, head already drooping.
He turned to Sakusa, “Hey.”
Sakusa paused, hand on the door handle.
“I’m just… worried,” Osamu admitted, the words came out stiffer than he intended, “He’s not good at askin’ for help, or any of this. So just–” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Take care of him for me, please. Thanks.”
Sakusa held his gaze for a long moment, before nodding slowly and deliberately. “I will.” he said.
Something about the way he said it made Osamu’s chest loosen. Osamu watched as the car drove away, the lights painting a colorful streak against the rain covered road.
“He definitely likes him.”
Osamu turned around to be met with his boyfriend. Suna leaned against the doorframe of Onigiri Miya, as his lips curled into a smirk.
“Who?” Osamu asked, even though he knew.
Suna pushed off the frame and closed the distance between them, Osamu’s arms slipping around his waist instinctively.
“Kiyoomi,” Suna murmured against his shoulder.
Osamu exhaled, slow, but fond, and tired. His hands pulled Suna closer.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, watching the last traces of red light disappear around the corner. “Well. It's up to Tsumu now.”
Suna hummed in agreement, as they made their way back into the restaurant, door jingling behind them.
✧✧✧
The car hummed softly as it cut through the rain streaked streets. Wipers swept back and forth in a rhythm, small raindrops sprinkling onto the clear glass before getting swiped away with a swish.
Atsumu had been quiet for almost three minutes, and Sakusa was starting to get concerned.
Suddenly, Atsumu’s voice broke the silence, “Omi…”
Sakusa’s hands tightened on the wheel, “What.”
“Dy’a ever feel like… a piece of shit that got flushed down a toilet… and just got clogged there?”
The silence that came afterwards was impeccable.
“Miya,” Sakusa said slowly, “What the fuck.”
“Sorry– sorry, I know that’s–” Atsumu waved a limp hand in the air, nearly smacking Sakusa’s arm. “M’tsorry, I don’t know how…” He trailed off, and his hands dropped back into his lap.
Sakusa waited, looking at his current state through the rearview mirror, it seemed as if the breakup was worse than he’d thought.
“M’tired,” Atsumu whispered, his voice raw and honest only in a way he never was when sober. “So tired, Omi. Three relationships. I know I had like, a few one night stands whatever but those three were all long, and none of ‘em worked, none! I feel like I don’t even remember what real love feels like anymore, all these past relationships all felt fake. Is that sad? That’s sad, right.
Sakusa didn’t answer, but he didn't tell Atsumu to stop, either.
He went on running his mouth, hoping if he spoke it out loud, it would make him feel better.
“I just want someone who sees me,” Atsumu continued, “Like, really see me y’know? Someone who understands how I work. The way I–” He gestured vaguely to himself, “Express myself.”
He turned his head towards the window, and Sakusa caught a glimpse of his reflection staring back.
“Someone steady,” he murmured, “Steady enough that they won't run away when I get difficult. Because, yes! Miya Atsumu is in fact aware that he can be difficult.” He rolled his eyes, earning a small twitch on the mouth from Sakusa. Under the mask unfortunately.
“But I wanna be worth staying for, y’know?” he muttered weakly, voice trailing off as it cracked on the last word.
They sat in silence for a while until Sakusa, finally, cleared his throat.
“That’s… not unreasonable,” he said, stiff and awkward. As if the words were pulled out of him forcefully.
Atsumu let out a wet, quiet chuckle. “That the best ya got, Omi-Omi?”
“I’m not good at this, Miya.”
“I know.”
“But,” Sakusa paused at a red light, he didn’t look over at him, kept his eyes on the road because he knew if he looked over, he’d say something he couldn’t take back. “You’re not a… piece of shit clogged in a toilet. That’s… grotesque and unrealistic.”
Atsumu snorted.
“And,” Sakusa added, as he pressed the pedal when the light turned green, “You’re not unlovable. You’re just…” his eyebrows furrowed together searching for the right word, “...Looking in the wrong places.”
Sakusa didn’t see the way Atsumu’s lips curved into a small smile.
“Mhm..” Atsumu said, exhaustion finally catching up to him. Eyes fluttering shut
But Sakusa knew, somewhere hidden in the deep crevices of his heart, that he could be what Atsumu wants.
And he would be that
Even if Atsumu didn’t know it yet.