Chapter Text
Five years ago:
Atsumu stumbles out of the gym, still sweaty from the earlier game, but he doesn't care. He hears his fans scream his name and push gifts his way, but he does not look. Not one plushy or letter or handmade sign board does he reach for, not one fan does he acknowledge. All that he can feel is numb. Nothing can help this ache forming in the pit of his stomach, Omi. Tears form in the corner of his eye, he pushes himself out from the crowd and races into the MSBY Black Jackals van, alone with his thoughts in the dark.
The sky is sullen and the drive back from the match is silent, not even Shoyo can muster a smile, the silence of the loss of the game and one of their companions weighs on them. A part of Atsumu wants to run, scream, beg Omi to come back. Another wants to blame him to get rid of this guilt in his chest, to tell him that all along he had been wrong, but he can’t seem to bring himself to do either, instead he stares out of the window, watching the sky go from yellow to black.
‘How can you face us as our setter when you can’t even toss us a good ball?’
Four years ago:
Month 1 was the longest month of the year for Atsumu, painful in all the bad ways a month could be. Practice was the only time he left the house, declining dinners and game nights, ignoring calls and messages from Shoyo and Bokkun. Choosing instead the solitude of his cold house. With Omi gone and Samu on the other side of the country, Atsumu had never felt this alone all his life.
Month 2 saw a little sunshine peak from behind the clouds, but Atsumu never drew open the curtains to look. His days consisted of volleyball, cry, maybe eat and sleep. His house was always in a state of neglect Luka had been a constant though, begging for Atsumu's attention, “Come here ya’ little shit!” He found comfort in those moments, Luka curled on his pillow on nights he couldn't sleep, constantly meowing for food and playtime.
Constant. Consistent. And constant felt nice. Constant felt like the times he and Omi would take Luka to the beach, they'd constantly tried to get Luka in the water, laughing hard at whatever antics their cat got into, they'd get at each other's throats constantly during practice, competing on who served better or who could run more laps. And it felt good.
Month 2 turned into month 3, and he took Luka to the beach again and he laughs at him, squirming in the water, Month 4 and Atsumu tries to forget their anniversary instead, sleeping over at Shoyou’s house to binge a new series, he smiles as big a smile he can muster, month 5 is easier, he thinks, volleyball is fun, he spends his days in and out the gym, laughing at Bokkun’s jokes or filming Tik Toks for the teams page with Inunaki and he feels that he's finally healing.
Month 6 rained down on him, it had been 6 whole months since Atsumu’s life had come down on him, he hears that Omi, no, Sakusa is back on another team, that he’s clicked with his new setter. That he’s doing well and Atsumu wishes that he didn’t care so much. He looks around more on the train rides he takes every day, hoping to catch a glimpse of curly dark hair, or hear that familiar sarcastic laugh he loves so much. He's met with silence and it hurts every time.
It was different now he thinks cursing himself for the nth time that day, he had gotten his shit together. He learnt how to cook, instead of relying on the convenience store all the time, he’s been practicing his receives and serves and he goes out with the team every Friday to eat soba near their gym, he laughs at Shoyo’s jokes and teases Bokuto. He remembers that Luka likes to have his dinner next to him at the table and that he needs to call Samu and Sunarin every Saturday. He's okay… he's moving on.
But nothing quells the ache within him.
Five years ago:
Sakusa lets the hot water run down his back, cleansing his body from all the impurities of the earlier match. But his head is full of him. Atsumu. His face. His hands, lips, his eyes, welling up with tears, his hands, clenched into fists. How could I say those things? He turns the temperature up. “It’s your fault. You couldn’t give me a perfect toss. You, you, you, you’re perfect.”
Temperature up; I shouldn’t have. I need to apologise. APOLOGISE. Temperature up; Don’t leave, please stay with me Atsu, PLEASE. He cries out in frustration, turning the shower off. But all he can think of is how this is all his fault.
When he exits the gym, it’s quiet, the fans have left and the sun is setting, the red-orange blurring the buildings. Yellow, the same shade of that stupid bleach he uses.
four years ago:
Month 1 finds Sakusa taking a break from volleyball. It’s too much, he thinks. When he hits a serve and he thinks of bleached hair catching the sunlight, when he digs a ball and he sees those piercing, chocolate eyes. Spiking and hearing a familiar laugh, his laugh . it's ironic, he thinks, when the reason he went pro became the reason he can’t look the same at volleyball again;
When he eventually tries out for another team, it’s 5 months later, he’s confident now, this is what he wants.
It’s hard at first, getting back into the rhythm, the Tigers are different and they’ve established dynamics, he feels lost without the Jackals, he misses them even, he falters at the thought of missing something, a team, that he destroyed. Spiking has never felt this hard, when he knows the toss he spikes isn’t the one he’s so familiar with. It’s hard and it hurt the worst doing it alone.
Month 6 consists of long practice hours, days spent in the gym, refamiliarising himself with the court, spiking, receiving, serving. The spin he puts on the ball is still as ruthless.
“You need to take a break Sakusa-san,” the new setter, Ishikawa, sighs as Sakusa hits another serve out of bounds. “At least come drink some water…”
Ishikawa is nothing like Atsumu, his playing is safe, rigid almost, predictable. Where Atsumu would take every opportunity for a quick, Ishikawa relies on high sets through the centre of the court. Ishikawa didn't have the charisma nor the confidence Atsumu does and Ishikawa definitely did not make Sakusa feel like face planting himself at his knees, so Sakusa says nothing, only hits another ball, but this time his serve is in.
“Tsum-Tsum! Can you set a little more for me?” Shoyo asks, his orange head bobbing up and down in anticipation. Pushing the cart of balls around Atsumu.
Month 7 comes and with it a newfound peace that Atsumu hadn’t expected. He plays, better than he ever had, his serves are better and he can set any ball that comes his way, he laughs louder, he does dances with Inunaki and he’s a fan favourite and Tik Tok. Samu opens a new Osaka branch and he spends his evenings there telling jokes to his customers over the counter and he sees Samu roll his eyes at him, he eats more, he buys more cat toys for Luka, and he plays pranks on Meian with Shoyo and slowly he finds himself, happy.
He smiles at Shoyo, he’s always appreciated how the orange haired boy seems to light up the room and the way he makes everything seem a little brighter than usual. “Of course I’ll help ‘ya.”
It’s been 7 months since he and Sakusa argued and Atsumu is on the path to acceptance.
Month 8 for Sakusa is hard, he wakes up at 5 in the morning and has a run before morning practice, he arrives at the gym at 6.15, has a shower and takes his coffee. Ishikawa comes in at 7 and sets up the net. They practice spiking until the rest of the team arrive. After practice, Sakusa stays an hour longer practicing his serves. It’s nearly 8 by the time he leaves the gym.
Today is no different, he walks the same route back to his apartment, the dim street lights above him, he buys an onigiri and a bottle of green tea from the convenience store downstairs before heading up. As soon as he’s back home, he slumps down onto the sofa and shuts his eyes. It’s past 9 by the time he gets up, food unopened on the table before him, he no longer has the appetite for it. He pushes himself up to get ready for bed, he does his laundry and sets out his clothes for the next day, he brushes his teeth for a minute too long.
By the time he climbs into his cold bed it’s 11 and he’s exhausted.
His dreams are no comfort for they are plagued by a boy with yellow hair and the widest smile he’s ever seen, they’re on the beach this time and Atsumu is just a little too far from his reach, so he cries and he screams and he begs for him to stay, Atsumu laughs the only laugh he's ever loved and disappears without looking back. The next time he wakes up, he’s covered in sweat and he’s overslept.
Month 8 for Sakusa is hard, acceptance is a subject that has not yet crossed his mind.
3 years ago:
Sakusa takes a deep breath, pushing the doors to the gym open, a part of him has been dreading this day for weeks. Banners hang on the pillars, a board covers most of the space on the left hand side wall, ‘MSBY Black Jackals VS The Kohaku Tigers’. He's prepared, physically, yes, he's practiced weeks for the tournament. Mentally not so much, he knows that he will have to face Atsumu on the court, whether today or tomorrow or in the finals. But it doesn't help his shaking hands as they step onto the court for their official warmup.
It's been 2 years since that day, but the moment he sees Atsumu on the court, bleached hair catching the sun, eyes focused on the ball he's setting, he's back, half smiling at Shoyo and Bokuto's antics, watching as Atsumu serves yet another perfect serve, practicing digs with Inunaki, Meian and Adriah discussing block strategies with Foster, he's missed these above all, family.
It's been 2 years but Sakusa misses those few months spent with them more than anything.
When Atsumu notices him on the other side of the net, his face changes, his eyes harden and his mouth is down-turned. Month 13 hurts Sakusa the worst.
They lose the match, 25-21, 27-25, 20-17 and Atsumu knows it's his fault, he's hit at least 5 out-of-bound serves and his mind was constantly wandering. Shoyo brushes it off as a bad day and Meian tells him not to worry. Deep down he knows they pity him.
Sakusa is brilliant as ever, the spin he puts on the ball hurts to dig. He's scored as many service aces as Atsumu has put out of bounds, the chemistry between him and no.14, the setter is good, his digs are perfect, he still spins the ball the same before he serves, and he looks so damn good doing it.
When they shake hands across the net, Atsumu feels the electricity buzz between them, he hopes Sakusa can't feel his racing pulse or hear his quickened breathing. He looks good, he looks so… happy. Atsumu feels terrible, a part of him wanted Sakusa to look at him and feel his accomplishment, to feel remorse for what he did to him. But all he sees in his eyes is indifference.
His hands are soft but his grip is firm. The white and blue of his jersey highlight the specks of grey in his eyes. Atsumu wants to kiss all the moles speckled across his milky skin, to take him in his arms and hold him, to never let go, he wants to scream at him, Come back to us Omi… until he realises he’s staring and Sakusa is trying to pull away from his grip.
‘Oh… ‘m sorry,’ he murmurs, pulling away awkwardly.
Sakusa says nothing, only nods and turns to walk away, God he’s missed him.
It isn’t until Sakusa is out of the door that he slumps to the floor and lets out a quiet sob.
The next time the door reopens, Sakusa's eyes are dry but are red-rimmed enough for anyone to know that he had been crying, hurriedly he tries to wipe all evidence off his face before anyone sees him like this.
‘Omi-kun?’
Bokkun.
‘Bokuto-san…’ he rubs his hands together, of course he'd have to see his old teammates again, but he wished that he hadn't caught him in this state, ‘That was a good game just now… it was real cool the spike you did right at the end-’
‘Omi-kun… why… why did you leave like that,’ his voice is quieter than Sakusa had remembered it to be. He stares at him, a little dumbfounded, he thought they would hate him for leaving like that, resent him for the things he said to Atsumu.
‘I… I had to, bokkun… after all those… things I said-’
‘Don't you know how worried I was for you and Tsum-tsum?,’ the crease between Bokuto's brows deepened, ‘Like of course we were a little, no a lot mad at you for saying those things to Tsumu, but Omi-kun, you're family to us too and we were so worried-’
‘BOKKUN!!!’
Shoyo
‘Bokkun we're leaving… Omi-kun?’ Shoyo looks startled to see him, he must be a mess he thinks, disheveled hair and red rimmed eyes…
‘You two!’ Meian ‘Bokuto-san, Shoyo-kun we're leaving.’
The two of them scurry off in the direction of Meian's voice whispering something before giving Sakusa one last, worried look.
You were family to us too, Omi-kun