Chapter Text
Atsumu spent a lot of time growing up thinking that OCD was one specific thing.
In all the foreign movies and shows he saw, OCD was only portrayed as being clean, a person obsessed with their belongings staying in a perfect line.
He saw the constant way it was shown and assumed that must be the experience of every person with OCD, that color coding your colored pencils or wiping down each grape before you ate it was all OCD is.
It wasn't until he was already well settled into his MSBY career when he started to understand just how little those films tried to show its audience just how debilitating having OCD really is
---
Sakusa Kiyoomi came back into Atsumu's life after nearly four years of playing with MSBY.
The wing spiker had opted to pursue a degree at University rather than head straight into the pro leagues like Atsumu did, not that his continuing education stopped him from playing.
Atsumu had spent way too many embarrassing train rides while taking his well earned off day and going all the way to Tokyo so he could watch the collegiate MVP play.
By the time they reunited, Atsumu had nearly forgotten all the strange habits and behaviors Sakusa often exhibited in high school, so used to only seeing him when he went to watch a game. Sure he remembered the masks and aversion to touch, but those were always front and center with the man.
It's just that, Atsumu hadn't remembered them being quite so excessive.
Sure, to an outside observer Sakusa might just seem like a health nut and Atsumu honestly thought that same thing too.
But as their relationship grew and morphed into something more, he got to see every side of his boyfriend, even the ones he tried his best to hide.
Atsumu's gone months without touching his boyfriend because his brain convinced him that no matter how clean Atsumu made himself he was a contaminant
He's spent more days than not making the trip back to their apartment after nearly arriving at their destination because Sakusa couldn't remember if their door was locked, and if it wasn't locked then their pet cat would wander into the streets and die in some horrific fashion.
They hardly ever eat out, even at Osamu's, because any food Sakusa can't watch be prepared runs the high risk of being poisoned.
Enclosed transportation like trains are a no go because someone will transfer them a rare and fatal disease.
Hell, every night Atsumu's not even allowed to sleep without first allowing his boyfriend to tell him how much he loves him and Atsumu to respond in kind, since not telling each other how much they love the other would result in the other party dying in their sleep thinking that they are unloved.
All that, and it hardly even scratches the surface of the various obsessions and compulsions Sakusa goes through. And those are just the ones he allows Atsumu to see, he knows that there's plenty of others that Sakusa won't, and maybe will never tell Atsumu about.
OCD really is nothing like he saw on TV growing up. Obsessions change constantly or last for ages, themes come and go with no rhyme or reason. Don't get him started on the compulsions, those hurt the most to see someone he loves so much become a slave to.
He really wishes it was ordering pencils in a specific way, maybe then he'd be able to see Sakusa spared from all this shit that Atsumu was powerless to help with.
---
"Tsumu, I know ya don't wanna hear this, bit maybe it would be better ta find someone else?"
Osamu never really understood the complexities of Sakusa's condition. All he really saw was the way his actions constantly hurt his brother and resented their relationship for it.
"Fuck off," Atsumu mumbles, face buried in the crossed arms on the bar of Onigiri Miya.
The wood is smooth under his hands and he can't help but wonder the brand of cleaning supplies Osamu uses to scrub it.
"I'm serious, Tsumu. Ya let that bastard hurt ya all the damn time but never wanna be treated better."
"Omi loves me." He says.
Osamu scoffs, hands crushing the rice ball he was working on forming. "Sure. If he loved ya so much then he wouldn't be treatin' ya like shit."
Atsumu rips his head up, glaring at his twin. "I already told ya, he's got a condition, he can't help it and he's tryin' his best."
"Conditions ain't an excuse ta constantly hurt yer lovers feelin's. 'Sides, what kinda condition makes him feel the need ta constantly make it seem like yer some kinda walking' disease? Seems like a shit excuse ta treat ya bad ta me."
"Samu shut the fuck up, Omi's strugglin' enough as it is without all the bullshit yer tryin' ta make me pull. He loves me and I love him, end of story."
Osamu grumbles something under his breath but goes back to working on the restaurants orders.
They sit in a tense silence for a few minutes before Atsumu finally has the courage to bring up the reason why he's sitting here in the first place.
"He's not really eatin' much of anythin' lately. Not since that new disease that gets spread through food and water got announced."
"Just bring 'em here, I'll make sure he eats, even if he does piss me off."
Atsumu's calloused hand run through his overgrown blonde hair. "I know fer a fact that ya know that ain't gonna work. Especially not when the reason is in the food, whether he watches ya cook or not."
His twin sighs, moving out from behind the counter and flipping the the small sign by the door to closed. He carefully slides into the free seat next to Atsumu and places a comforting hand on his back.
Atsumu drinks the contact up greedily, leaning back into his brother's palm. Sakusa had been struggling with contamination with all this illness and disease talk going around and had refused any touch offered by Atsumu.
He won't admit it to anyone other than Osamu, but the feeling of being rejected by his lover no matter how clean he made himself stung.
He understands, probably more than anyone, he gets why Sakusa can't bring himself to touch him without spiraling into a panic, but fuck it still hurts.
"Okay, yer really not gonna like this but maybe ya should consider findin' someone who can give him treatment? I know conditions like his ain't really dealt with here in Japan, but in the big cities there's gotta be specialists who work with mental illnesses and shit."
Atsumu lets out a wet chuckle. "Sure, if we want to make the drive to Tokyo for every appointment or take an extended leave from the team to move out there. I've mentioned it before but Omi always shuts it down."
"If he don't want to get better, then why are ya even stayin' ya let him hurt ya?"
"It's not that, we do exercises and exposure therapy we find online whenever he's able ta take some small steps and work on stuff. He just don't wanna go fer treatment, I think he's scared that I'd leave the team ta help him."
"Well, would ya?"
"Obviously, I'd quit if he needed me ta. That don't matter though, he'd blame himself, or his brain would try ta convince him I hate him or somethin' fer quittin' fer him."
Osamu side eyes him, quickly pulling out his phone and setting it on the counter. "That seems like all the more reason ta me ta have him get treatment. I'm callin' Aran though."
"What, why?" Atsumu cries.
"Cause despite all of this, it ain't gonna change the fact that yer gonna go home all sad and hurtin' cause yer boyfriend ain't lovin' ya right."
"No! Wait, it's fine, don't get Aran involved!" Astumu lunges for the phone but Osmau just holds it out of reach.
So distracted with trying to get the phone, he doesn't even realize Osamu's called until the line connects.
"Sup Samu, what ya callin' for?"
Atsumu buried his face in his hands to muffle his screams of frustration while Osamu explains everything to the other man.
The blonde can tell immediately when a scolding is coming from the way the air shifts.
Shit, Aran’s gonna be so mad.
"Tsumu, didn't we literally just have a conversation last month where ya told me that Sakusa said to let him know if he starts hurting ya while having a flare up?"
Atsumu pouts and mutters out an affermative noise.
"And that you said you'd do it because whenever you're hurting you feel like it's hurting him too? And then when Shinsuke asked if you actually would, you assured us both that you would definitely do it?"
"Yes..."
"Hmm, then why haven't ya?"
Atsumu yanks at his hair again, watching the exasperated look Osamu gives him from the corner of his eye.
"Cause it's never been this bad before! We weren't together in the pandemic and this is the first really big outbreak of a disease since then and he's freakin' out enough without me complainin' ta him about my hurt feelings!"
Osamu's hand lands harshly on the top of his head, aggressively shaking his head back and forth before giving it a gentle pat.
"So ya did have a way to get that jerk ta back off and ya didn't tell me?"
"Ya don't get it, he's gonna get in a real bad way of I do."
"Or," Aran speak up from over the phone, "what you say will help him realize how bad it's gotten and he might consider treatment this time. And while we're at it, you might want to talk to someone too man, this can't be good for you if you'd rather ignore his requests and do what you think is best for him rather than listen because ya think it might stress him out more."
"Omi can't help it, not his fault his brain hates him." He whispers, a nearly automatic response.
"Yeah but you can help it and help him. He trusted you to help him recognize when it gets bad, and you're not doing that. Ain't that kinda a disservice to him?"
"Ughhhh, I hate that yer right!"
Osamu chirps in. "How did ya get so wise Aran?"
Their childhood friend lets out a deep chuckle from the other side of the phone. "Shinsuke's been rubbing off on me I guess. He's always sayin' that communication is key in our relationship."
“Ain't that the truth,” Osamu mumbles before turning to a still sulking Atsumu. “Hell of a first relationship ya chose to get into. Ya could never take the easy way, huh?”
“And a last relationship if all goes to plan, right Tsumu?” Aran chirps.
“That's right, ya we're yappin’ ‘bout proposin’ a while ago.”
The reminder only makes Atsumu pout more, remembering the ring he has hidden away in his apartment.
“Yeah, I was hopin’ ta ask him durin’ the upcomin’ off season, but with everythin’ happenin’ it's probably not gonna be a good time to ask something like that.”
“Well, that's all the more reason that the both of ya should want to get better!”
“Ya know I hate when yer right, Aran.”
All he receives in response are two pairs of laughter, and for the first time in days Atsumu feels his heart get lighter.
---
The apartment is trashed when Atsumu gets home.
Well, maybe trashed isn't the right word. It's not like anything is unclean, the floors are swept, the counters wiped down. There's just a seemingly endless pile of ridiculously expensive gallons of bottled water all over every surface.
Darting between them and acting like she's having the time of her life is Sakusa and his kitten. At least someone's excited to see thousands of yen worth of water lying around.
“Omi?” He calls, toeing off his shoes and sliding into his well worn house slippers.
Atsumu carefully steps around the maze of bottles, trying his best not to trip between them and their cat who seems to have decided that Atsumu’s legs would be a wonderful thing to sprint in front of at random.
Something nags at his at the lack of answer and he makes his way to their shared bedroom, the place Sakusa seems to have been spending more time lately.
“Omi, I’m gonna come in.” He calls, gently twisting open the door and peeking his head inside.
In the center of their unmade bed lies Sakusa, buried almost completely under a pile of freshly changed sheets.
Atsumu remembers changing a load of them from the washer to the dryer before leaving, Sakusa must have gotten up at some point and threw them on their bed.
When he steps closer, Atsumu can see the soft rise and fall of Sakusa’s shoulders and the peaceful expression lying on his face.
Lately it seems like he's only this relaxed when he's sleeping. God, he can't wait for this stupid illness outbreak to be done so his Omi can finally relax again.
Reluctant as he is to wake him, Atsumu grabs a discarded shirt off the floor, his own he notes, and shakes Kiyoomi’s shoulder with it.
It only takes a moment for those beautiful dark eyes to crack open, Sakusa blinking wearily at Atsumu.
“Mmhh, when do you get home, love?”
“Just a minute ago.”
Sakusa stretches his arms up, hoodie rising with the movement to expose a flash of mole dotted pale skin.
“Atsumu,” he calls and much to his delight he places his palm lightly against the back of Atsumu’s hand.
It only lasts a second but he adores the act of thoughtfulness Sakusa gives to him all the same.
“Did ya eat yet, Omi?” Atsumu straightens, ready to battle his way through the water jugs he still needs to ask about.
To his surprise Sakusa stands and starts making his way towards the bedroom door. Maybe he's feeling well enough to have something substantial to eat.
“Not hungry, but let me make you something.”
Atsumu can feel the way his heart sinks at those words.
“Wait Omi, when's the last time ya ate?”
The way Sakusa freezes like a deer trapped in headlights tells Atsumu all he needs to know.
“Not since the last time I sat ya down and made ya eat, huh?”
Sakusa’s shoulders raise defensively, his boyfriend so easy for Atsumu to read even when facing away.
“It doesn't matter.” Sakusa bites.
“Of course it matters! Ya need ta eat or yer gonna get sick!”
“It's fine, I have water. I'm just gonna drink that when I get hungry.”
“Ya know that's not gonna last ya, yer gonna starve ta death if ya try ta live off water.” Atsumu scoffs.
“It's better than having some parasites living inside me.”
“The cases are rare Omi, ya ain't gonna get no parasite in yer food. We talked about this, ya need ta take care of yerself.”
Sakusa whips around, anger surging into his expression. “You don't know that I won't get infected. It's in everything now, even the water isn't safe. People are getting parasites from that too!”
Well that explains the insanely numerous and expensive waters.
“So yet just gonna live off water from the fuckin’ glaciers? What about when ya hafta shower or brush yer teeth?”
“I'm using the bottles for that too.” Sakusa crossed his arms, scowling at the blonde.
Atsumu sighs. “Fine, whatever. Ya can use all the bottled water ya want fer showerin’ and shit but ya still gotta eat Kiyoomi.”
“No, not until I find something that wouldn’t have been infected.”
“Nope, call it exposure therapy or working of yer compulsions but we're not lettin’ ya waste away fer a second longer than ya already have.” He snaps back.
Atsumu, in his frustration and desperation to get his boyfriend to realize that he does, in fact, need to eat, completely forgets the number one rule when he's like this.
Without really thinking he reaches his hand out and snatches his boyfriend's wrist, preparing to drag him into the kitchen and force something into him if needed.
“Don’t!” Sakusa screeches, violently ripping his arm away. “Don't fucking touch me! Shit! Fuck!”
Arm still raised, palm freshly empty of the warm skin of Sakusa’s wrist, Atsumu stares as he watches the way his boyfriend begins aggressively scratching at where their skin had just touched.
Sakusa’s cursing under his breath as his eyes begin to gleam with stressed tears. Fuck, he really must have been doing a lot worse than Atsumu thought.
Attacking his skin through picking or scratching at it wasn't an uncommon thing to happen, even when Atsumu does his best to distract him from the activity.
Seeing it like this though? Atsumu can hardly remember more than two times when he’s seen Sakusa scratch so violently at his skin before, and neither were done with the desperation he currently has in his eyes.
Atsumu takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut in preparation for his next words.
“I think ya should go ta treatment, Omi.”
He squints his eyes back open and sees that if nothing else, his words have shocked Sakusa enough to get him to stop tearing up his arms.
“What…?”
“Treatment, Omi. We should go ta Tokyo and get treatment.”
“I'm fine, I can manage it.” He says, though Atsumu can tell he looks unsure.
“We've been tryin’ ta manage it ourselves Omi and it's only gettin’ worse.” He raises his hand and pulls at his blonde hair. “And I'm hurtin’. I can't stand seein’ ya hurt too much and not be able to help ya. I can't keep feelin' like my best isn't enough fer ya.”
“Astu, it's not you, you know how much I love you.”
“Do I?” He lets out a bitter laugh. “We ain't gonna solve this on our own. And, if it makes ya feel better, I'm gonna get help too.”
“For what? You're not fucked in the head like I am, stuck livimg in this hellhole that you can't get away from 'cause your the one making it!”
Atsumu swears he can feel his heart physically shatter to tiny pieces at his words. “Yer not fucked up Omi, yer brain just makes it a little harder fer ya is all.”
Sakusa looks to the side, hands curling into fists. “You only say that ‘cause you don't know all the horrible thoughts I have, ones I can't even stomach saying.”
“No, I say that because I know and love ya, Omi. This can be somethin’ we work on together. It will be good to have a break.”
His words make Sakusa whip his head toward Atsumu. “Don't tell me you're wanting to take an extended leave.”
“I'm gonna if we need ta. Yer more important than volleyball. ‘Sides, we've got plenty of vacation time saved up and the off season’s startin’ next week. I'll just tell Coach that we're gonna have ta leave early cause both of us are gettin’ treatments.”
“And if it doesn't work? Will you stay on leave until they terminate their contract while I waste both of our times in some facility?”
“Yes,” Atsumu says without hesitation. “I would in a heartbeat ‘cause yer worth it Omi.”
His boyfriend seems taken back by his answer, like he wasn't expecting Atsumu to actually agree with him.
Atsumu watches as he takes a shaky breath in and out, finally loosening his hands from the clenched fists they were curled into.
“Fine.”
Atsumu practically sags in relief. “Okay, good. Go ahead and pack us some bags Omi, and I'll get the cat set to go and find a meal replacement drink or somethin’ ya can eat.”
“Atsumu,” Sakusa hesitates. “I can't promise I'll drink it.”
“But will ya try?”
Sakusa gives a hesitant nod, hardly moving his head. But it was still there and Atsumu could feel the determination in that subtle movement.
“Then Omi, tryin’ is all I ask of ya.”