Chapter Text
“Why are you like this?”
It’s always the same question. Atsumu’s gotten it from teachers, friends, teammates. Even his own parents have said it, never harshly, but wearily, as if they couldn’t be bothered to look beyond the surface.
The only person who’s never said those words is Osamu, and that’s only because he knew from the start that something was wrong.
No one else bothered to hold back. No one else considered the impact such a question could have on Atsumu.
Not even Sakusa.
It’s a rhetorical question, coming from him. He’s standing over Atsumu, face contorted in anger, gripping a volleyball so hard his knuckles are white. Bokuto stands behind him, arm outstretched as if he can physically reign in the words that spill from Kiyoomi’s lips.
“Omi--” Bokuto starts, but Sakusa cuts him off with a glare. “No,” he says, expression murderous. “I don’t want to hear you defending him again. He gets away with too much shit on this team, and I’m done watching it.” He turns back to Atsumu, who flinches under the weight of his gaze. “You could have been seriously hurt,” Sakusa snaps. “Did you even consider what losing you would mean for the team?”
Shouyou speaks up then. “We’re just worried about you, Tsum-Tsum,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”
Atsumu hesitates. Telling the truth isn’t an option for him.
Bokuto knows this. He doesn’t touch Sakusa; he, along with the rest of the team, is well aware of Sakusa’s aversion to touch. Instead, he says, “Omi-kun, I don’t think it’s any of our business--”
“It’s all of our business if Miya gets himself injured,” Sakusa snarls. To Atsumu he says, “Why didn’t you stop practicing when you knew you were getting tired?”
“I don’ feel tired,” Atsumu insists.
“Your last set was so sloppy that you actually fell,” Sakusa fires back. “You’ve been practicing for four hours . All of us are tired, and yet we stayed late to practice with you,” he continues. “Did you ever consider that maybe the rest of us need a break? That you need a break?”
“I toldja I don’ feel tired,” Atsumu snaps, pushing himself to his feet. His limbs feel heavy, but his mind is sharp, his thoughts moving quicker than he can process, his brain telling him to move, keep moving . He’s so fired up he could probably run a marathon right now--
“Are you even listening to me?” Sakusa demands. Atsumu shakes his head to clear it, realizing that he must have been zoning out for at least a minute now.
“I--”
“Enough.” Sakusa’s voice is quiet. He sounds tired, like Atsumu’s mother when she found out he’d snuck out again or that his grades were in the toilet. He sounds like he’s done. “If you don’t learn to take care of yourself, I’m going to tell Coach Foster to take you out of the starting lineup. This will not happen again. Do you understand?”
Atsumu nods, dazed. He’s got an arrangement with Coach Foster, so it’s not as if Sakusa’s threat holds any weight. Still, Atsumu doesn’t want to alienate himself from any of his teammates, even the one he tends to clash with the most. It would be bad for the team, and even worse for his state of mind.
“Omi-kun,” Bokuto tries again, “just--”
“I’m leaving,” announces Sakusa to no one in particular. He’s still looking at Atsumu, but it feels more like he’s looking through him. He’s not seeing him, let alone trying to. He turns away from Atsumu and heads towards the door, leaving the others silent beside him.
Sakusa pauses in the doorway. Without turning around, he says, “See you all tomorrow. Hinata, Bokuto, make sure he gets home safe.” Then he leaves.
Shouyou breathes a sigh of relief and turns to Atsumu, gaze questioning. “Are you all right?” He says, sounding concerned.
Atsumu considers this for a moment. He’s rattled, certainly; he doesn’t know who wouldn’t be after being chewed out by Sakusa. Apart from that, though, he feels good.
Too good.
To Shouyou he says, “I’m fine. Why don’tcha both hit the showers while I get this mess cleaned up? I still gotta burn off some of this energy, ya know,” he says with a smile.
Shouyou looks uncertain. “Are you sure you don’t want some help? I could--”
“I’ll stay,” Bokuto interrupts. “You shower, Shou. You’ve been here the longest, anyway.”
It’s true; Shouyou had shown up half an hour before the rest of them to work on his serve. He’d insisted that it was something he had to master alone before he could work on getting it past the others, which is fair enough, Atsumu supposes.
“All right,” Shouyou says. “See you both tomorrow, then?”
“See ya tomorrow!” Atsumu says brightly.
“Bye, Shou-kun,” says Bokuto. Shouyou grins and heads to the locker room, leaving Atsumu alone with Bokuto.
Atsumu’s unconsciously bouncing in place, hands moving of their own accord. He’s not sure where to focus his eyes; everything around him is just so interesting, from the intricately knotted volleyball net to the way the fluorescent lighting glints off the polished floor.
“Tsum-Tsum,” says Bokuto, drawing Atsumu’s attention back to him.
“Hm?”
“What can I do?”
“Uhh,” Atsumu stalls. “Help me clean?”
Bokuto sighs. “I meant,” he gestures at Atsumu, “about this.”
Atsumu frowns. “I feel fine, Bokkun. Maybe I’m jus’ gettin’ better, have ya ever considered that?”
“Okay, then,” Bokuto says, “how many hours did you sleep last night?”
Atsumu thinks for a moment, but his mind is blank. “Uh,” he tries, “I don’...remember?”
Bokuto sighs. “I know. Do you remember if you slept the night before?”
“No,” says Atsumu, panic beginning to creep in. “I don’--I don’t know if I slept this week. But I must’ve, right? Otherwise I’d be dead or somethin’,” he jokes, trying to keep the fear from his voice.
Bokuto grimaces. “You’d be surprised what the human body is capable of,” he says darkly. “Either way, you should know better than this,” he adds. “When did you last eat?”
Atsumu thinks again. “This mornin’? No,” he corrects, “Last night. I wasn’t hungry this mornin’,” he explains.
Bokuto stares at him, and Atsumu feels understanding start to set in, the way it always does three or four days into an episode. “I’m manic, aren’t I,” he realizes aloud. Then he laughs, the sound bordering on hysteric. “God, I missed this feelin’.”
Bokuto looks sad. “I know.” Then he hesitates. “Do you want me to call Osamu?”
“Nah,” says Atsumu dismissively. “I’ll do it when I get home.”
“Promise?”
Atsumu rolls his eyes. “I promise. ”
Bokuto relaxes incrementally. “Okay. Let’s get this cleaned up now,” he suggests, gesturing at the volleyballs covering the surface of the court.
“Yeah,” Atsumu agrees, “let’s.”
Once they’ve cleaned up the balls, mopped the floor and taken down the net, Atsumu follows Bokuto to the showers. They leave the gym together around nine thirty, one and a half hours after their practice had ended.
Maybe Omi had a point, thinks Atsumu as the exhaustion of the past few days starts to sink in. He’s not coming down just yet, but the drop is inevitable.
“Call me if you need anything,” Bokuto instructs him when they arrive at the sharehouse. Atsumu nods before saying goodnight and heading to his room. He knows he should eat something, but he’s just not hungry .
I’ll eat breakfast tomorrow, he promises himself.
He changes into sweats and falls into bed. He feels something creeping up on him, something he has a name for but doesn’t wish to use. He’d rather ride the high, just a little bit further. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts, he always tells himself.
He falls asleep several hours later. As he does, he begins to remember bits and pieces of the dream he’d had the previous night, and the night before that. So I did sleep then, is his last conscious thought before he passes out.
He wakes up at noon. This is a problem, because morning practice starts at nine. There’s only about an hour left at this point, and quite frankly, Atsumu wouldn’t have gone even if he had gotten up on time.
He checks his phone and finds a text from Bokuto that says, ‘ I told Foster you’re not feeling well today. Call me if you need anything, I’m bringing lunch over at 2!’
God bless Bokuto.
Atsumu lets his head fall back to the pillow, and his eyes flutter shut.
The next time he opens his eyes, there’s someone pounding on his door. “Tsum-Tsum! Can I come in?” He hears.
“Yeah,” he yells weakly.
There’s the sound of the door swinging open and then Bokuto’s beside him. “Jesus, Tsumu,” he says, sounding horrified. “What happened?”
Atsumu tries to shrug, but the motion gets lost in the blankets. “Crashed,” he explains.
Bokuto sits on the edge of the bed, looking concerned. “You’re not physically ill, right?”
“I’m fine,” Atsumu says. “It’s just depression.”
Bokuto stares at him. “It’s not ‘ just’ anything,” he corrects softly. “Anyway, I brought food.” He brandishes a paper bag emblazoned with the words ‘Onigiri Miya’. “Samu thought you’d probably need this about now.”
“Fuck,” Atsumu curses, realizing he forgot to call Osamu. “I--”
“It’s okay,” Bokuto assures him. “I called him this morning when you didn’t show at practice. He told me to make sure you hydrate and also ‘call him as soon as you’re lucid enough to drag your ass out of bed’.” He makes finger quotations around the last bit.
Atsumu winces. “I’ll try to call him after lunch,” he says.
Bokuto nods in response before opening the bag and passing Atsumu an onigiri. Atsumu takes it gingerly, sitting up just enough that he won’t choke when he swallows. He chew slowly, knowing that his stomach is fragile after not eating for so long.
He makes it through a whole onigiri before he has to stop. Bokuto wordlessly passes him a plastic water bottle when he’s done, and Atsumu takes a few sips before setting it on the nightstand, hoping it’ll serve as a reminder to keep himself hydrated for the rest of the day.
Bokuto breaks the silence. “How long do you think this one’s gonna last?”
Atsumu shrugs. “A few days, maybe.”
“Well, since tomorrow’s Friday, maybe you should just take tomorrow off,” Bokuto suggests. “That way you’ll have the weekend to recover.”
Atsumu nods, considering. “Yeah,” he eventually decides, “that should do it.”
“I’ll tell Foster,” says Bokuto, climbing to his feet. “I’m going to leave the onigiri in the fridge downstairs.”
“Top shelf?”
“Yeah,” says Bokuto. The top shelf of the fridge is reserved for takeout leftovers only, which roughly translates to ‘Atsumu’s Depression Diet’.
“I’ll come by later tonight, okay?” Says Bokuto. Atsumu nods. “Thanks, Bokkun,” he says softly.
Bokuto nods. “‘Course.” He leaves quietly, shutting the door behind him. Atsumu feels the weight of his absence even as he knows he’s only a room over. Atsumu’s sandwiched between Bokuto and Sakusa, while Shouyou, Inunaki and Meian live across the hall. Adriah and Barnes have long since moved out of the sharehouse, and Meian only really lives there part time (“And thank god for that,” Meian always says).
It’s really not so bad living with the others. They’re all very respectful housemates; even Shouyou and Bokuto have learned to clean up after themselves. Atsumu was surprised the first time he saw Bokuto’s room. It was nearly immaculate, with minimal clutter, and the floor was entirely visible. Atsumu didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that.
Shouyou’s room, on the other hand, often looked as if a tornado had recently blown through. It wasn’t dirty, per se; it was a mess, but Shouyou always made sure to do a monthly clean, and most of the clothes on his floor were grouped into semi-neat piles. He often claims that he has trouble fitting his clothes into his closet, since he brought so much back from Brazil and refuses to part with any of it. Atsumu’s also come to learn that he stores several spare volleyballs at the bottom of his closet, ‘just in case’.
Inunaki’s room is habitable, but not particularly neat. It’s plain, decorated sparsely with family photos and a single drawing of an anteater on a skateboard that Atsumu’s always wondered about. Inunaki doesn’t spend much time in his room, Atsumu knows. He prefers the living room, thanks to the fact that it has a television and the opportunity for social interaction. There’s a reason Atsumu doesn’t leave his room when he’s depressed, and that reason is a 174 cm libero named Inunaki Shion.
Atsumu’s never seen Sakusa’s bedroom. To be fair, no one has; Sakusa’s just mysterious like that. Atsumu’s sure it’s pristine. How could it not be, when the owner is a certified neat freak? Atsumu doesn’t know exactly what Sakusa’s issue with germs is, but he knows that it bleeds into every part of his life, not only his life in the public eye. He’s fastidious as ever even when he thinks no one is watching, wiping down the kitchen stools each time before he sits, cleaning the counter twice before setting down his plate. He almost always has a mask on in public, except for when he has to do interviews, which he despises. Atsumu knows he hates them, so he often tries to direct the attention of the press to himself instead. It usually works, and no one questions the tactic, seeing as Atsumu has a reputation for being self-absorbed.
Though maybe it’s not just a reputation, he thinks now as he recalls what Sakusa had said to him the previous day.
Did you ever consider that maybe the rest of us need a break? That you need a break?
It wasn’t just about Atsumu anymore. His actions were affecting the rest of the team, too. It could have been any of them falling over due to exhaustion yesterday. Atsumu knows he’s lucky not to have gotten hurt, and he feels terrible for potentially jeopardizing the team’s place in the tournament.
His words were harsh, but ultimately Sakusa was right. Atsumu fucked up. He ignored all of the signs, and took no preventative measures even though he knew the crash was coming. Every time, it’s like he forgets how to handle himself in a manic episode, no matter how many times it happens.
It doesn’t happen all that often, anymore. He’s medicated now. Before, it was another story. He used to get manic episodes several times a month, and mixed episodes in between. The times when he wasn’t manic, he was depressed. He forgot what it was like to be stable.
The first day that he felt relatively normal after starting his medication, he didn’t understand what it was that he was feeling. He was a senior in high school at the time, and had recently been diagnosed. He’d only been on the meds for a few months, but already he could tell the highs and lows were beginning to even out.
Still, that didn’t mean they were gone. Maybe dulled, but never gone.
Today was proof of that.
Atsumu drifts off for a few hours, waking up around five. He rolls over in bed and groans. His mind is too restless to sleep, but his body is exhausted. His limbs feel heavy and weak, and he can barely lift the water bottle from his nightstand.
Shit, he remembers, I still have ta call ‘Samu.
He manages to lift his phone to his face, pressing the ‘call’ button quickly before putting the phone to his ear.
Osamu picks up after only one ring, which probably means he was waiting for Atsumu to call.
“Tsumu?” Atsumu hears.
“Hey,” he croaks, then clears his throat. “Thanks fer lunch,” he tries.
“ Ya sound awful,’ Tsumu,” says Osamu. “ Do ya need me ta come over?”
“Nah,” says Atsumu. “‘M jus’ gonna rest up fer the rest of today n’ tomorrow, an’ then it’s the weekend, so.”
“Glad ta hear yer skippin’ practice,” Osamu drawls. His tone is sarcastic, but Atsumu knows he’s genuinely relieved to hear that Atsumu is taking it easy. His track record when it comes to letting himself recover from an episode is...not good, to say the least.
“Yeah, well,” says Atsumu, “guess I finally decided ta listen ta ya. Had ta happen eventually, right?”
“About time,” says Osamu. There’s a pause, and then he says, “ Bokuto told me Sakusa yelled at ya.”
“Yeah,” says Atsumu. “It’s not a big deal. That’s just kind of what he does. Besides, it’s not as if he has the complete story.”
“Why not?”
“Are ya crazy? Like he’d believe me,” Atsumu scoffs. “Bokuto understands, with his ADHD and all, and I think Shouyou has some idea, seein’ as he still treats me like a human being. Sakusa, on the other hand...I get the impression he’s not so flexible when it comes to mental health.”
“So? Maybe ya could change that,” Osamu replies.
Atsumu hesitates. “We’ll see.”
“ Right,” says Osamu, seeing right through his bullshit. “ Suna says hi, by the way. Also says ta get well soon so that he can make fun of ya again without feelin’ bad about it.”
“Good ta hear,” says Atsumu wryly. “Tell him he’s a bastard and I miss him, too. I’ll let ya get back ta work now, but thanks fer callin’ I guess.”
“ Ya called me, ya scrub,” says Osamu.
“Only cause ya made me,” Atsumu points out.
“ Whatever. Byeeee,” says Osamu.
“Bye, dumbass.”
The line goes dead, and Atsumu finds the sudden silence crushing. He stares at a stain on the wall, wondering how evening practice is going. Bokuto’s probably acting particularly goofy to distract from Atsumu’s absence, as he does when any of them aren’t present. Shouyou’s probably just going along with it, whether or not he has any concept of what Atsumu’s going through. Barnes and Adriah are probably fine; both of them work pretty well with their reserve setter. Meian knows the situation, so that’s not a concern, either. Inunaki is probably pestering Bokuto about Atsumu’s absence, but even he knows when to cave.
Sakusa, on the other hand…
He’s probably livid. Not only did Atsumu overwork himself yesterday, but now he’s missing practice?
Jus’ wait til I skip again tomorrow, Atsumu thinks tiredly. Sakusa hates their reserve setter with a burning passion. Kae’s not bad, but Sakusa says his sets just don’t measure up to Atsumu’s. Atsumu would take that as a compliment if he didn’t know that Sakusa was just being his usual blunt self.
His relationship with Sakusa has always been confusing, in part because they grew up as rivals. Then again, so did Atsumu and Shouyou, and Atsumu and Bokuto. Everyone in the MSBY’s youngest generation, or ‘the Monster Generation’, as people are referring to them now, had grown up playing one another, fighting to stay on the court the longest.
Atsumu’s not really sure why his relationship with Sakusa has always been different. The two of them tend to butt heads more often than not, but their chemistry on the court is unmatched.
So why is the guy so hard to get along with off the court?
Atsumu finds himself drifting off once more. It’s raining now, and the steady patter on the metal roof above him lulls him to sleep.
He wakes several hours later to a knock on the door. “Come in,” he croaks, expecting Bokuto. To his immense surprise, Shouyou enters, plastic bag in hand. He’s never visited Atsumu during an episode before, and Atsumu wonders if he’ll be able to tell he’s not physically ill. On the one hand, he looks as if he could be--he’s fatigued, flushed and clearly out of it. Still, Shouyou is shockingly perceptive at times.
Shouyou approaches the bed and gestures at the side. “Can I?”
Atsumu nods, and Shouyou sits, setting the bag down beside him. Shouyou’s silent for a beat, and then he blurts, “You’re not really sick, are you?”
Ah, there it is.
“I’m not,” Atsumu says. He hesitates. “I--”
“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable,” Shouyou says quickly. “So don’t feel obligated to.”
“I think ya deserve an answer,” Atsumu says honestly. “The whole team does, really. ‘M jus’ not ready fer that yet.”
Shouyou nods, understanding. “So what’s going on?”
“I’m bipolar,” Atsumu explains quietly. “I don’t really talk about it often, apart from with ‘Samu an’ Bokuto.”
“Because he’s ADHD, right?” Says Shouyou.
Atsumu looks at him, surprised. “He told ya?”
“Yeah,” says Shouyou. “I mean, I kind of guessed it at one point, and asked him point blank. Kind of rude in retrospect,” he admits. “Still, he didn’t seem to mind.”
“Yeah, Bokkun’s a bit more open ‘bout that kinda thing than I am,” Atsumu says fondly. “Anyway, I told him earlier this year. He’s been a huge help ever since.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Shouyou says sincerely. “And thank you for telling me.”
“I mean, I figured ya already had some idea, so why not?” Says Atsumu. “Not ta mention that I trust ya, both ta believe me and ta handle it well. My parents didn’ take it so well, but luckily I had some pretty great teammates at Inarizaki who helped me get through it all.”
“I’m sorry about your parents,” says Shouyou.
“Yeah, well,” Atsumu waves a hand. “I was kinda a handful in high school. Acted out a lot, mostly. I didn’ know why at the time, and neither did my parents, so their reactions were...harsh, ta say the least. Not like they were abusive or anythin’,” he adds hurriedly. “Jus’ yelled a lot. My dad would follow me ta my room yellin’ about grades n’ shit. It was awful,” he admits. “An’ ‘Samu tried ta help, he really did. He was kinda the mediator of the family. Still wasn’ enough at times, though.”
“I’m glad you had him, then,” Shouyou says gently. “Oh! Before I forget, I should probably give you this.” He passes the plastic bag to Atsumu, who peeks inside.
It reminds him a bit of the care package Kita once left for him. There’s a bottle of gatorade, some cold medicine, a small container of umeboshi, and a note saying, “ If you’re not back by next week I’m going to recruit Kageyama as our new setter.”
Atsumu frowns. The note doesn’t seem like something either Bokuto or Shouyou would say, and neither of them are prone to making empty threats.
“Omi-san left it for you,” Shouyou explains, noticing his look of confusion.
“Really? Why?” Says Atsumu, surprised.
“I mean, you always take care of us,” Shouyou explains. “I’m sure he just wanted to return the favor.”
Atsumu eyes the bag. “Right.”
“Seriously!” Shouyou insists. “I don’t think he knows how to communicate very well using his words. This is just how he shows he cares. Plus, I think he feels kinda bad about yelling at you yesterday. He probably won’t say that to your face, though.”
“Definitely not,” Atsumu agrees. “Thanks, Shou-kun.”
Shouyou smiles. “Of course. I need to grab dinner now, is there anything I can get you from the kitchen? Bokuto mentioned you have some leftovers on the top shelf.”
“I’ll grab ‘em later,” Atsumu lies. He’s still not hungry, but he promises himself he’ll eat something tomorrow, if only to keep Osamu off his back.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” Shouyou says dubiously. He hesitates in the doorway as if there’s something else he wants to say, but instead he smiles tightly. “I’ll come by tomorrow with Bokkun,” he says.
“Okay,” says Atsumu. Shouyou leaves, shutting the door softly behind him.
The room falls into silence once more. Atsumu’s too wound up to sleep. He wishes he had a ball, just to toss around a bit to get some of this weird energy out. Instead he turns to his phone, scrolling on instagram and watching dumb videos of stupid people dancing badly that somehow get up to a million likes. After an hour or so he feels his exhaustion catching up to him, and shuts off his phone in favor of dozing off.
The next day is much of the same. Atsumu manages to eat some of the leftover onigiri in the kitchen after his teammates have left for practice. He mostly sleeps, watches tv, stares at the wall. He finds that the reality tv show ‘Love Island’ makes for perfect background noise, and is mildly entertaining when he can summon the energy to pay attention for more than a minute at a time.
He’s bored, but incapable of keeping himself busy. He’s restless, but tired. He’s not sad, but he’s not happy, either. He’s entirely apathetic. Depression used to be a dramatic experience for him, especially when he experienced mixed episodes in which his mood was low and his energy skyrocketed. Now his depressive episodes are tedious, but somehow just as debilitating.
Around two PM, Bokuto and Shouyou come by, bearing lunch and practice updates.
“Omi totally chewed out Kae during our three-on-three today,” Shouyou informs him, eyes wide.
“What’d he say?” Says Atsumu around a mouthful of curry.
“Oh, you know,” says Bokuto, waving a hand. “Just the whole, ‘Are you even trying?’ and ‘Atsumu could do better’ kinda thing. Meian got pretty mad at him for that one, actually.”
“He really said all that?” Atsumu says, mildly impressed. “Damn. I mean, we all knew he’s a jerk, but that’s, like, another level.”
“Yeah, he kind of lost his temper,” Bokuto admits. “I think he misses you.”
Atsumu chokes. “Are ya serious? He misses my sets, that’s all,” he says.
“Same thing, right?” Says Shouyou.
“Not really,” says Atsumu. “Pretty sure Omi doesn’t like me at all, off the court.”
“He tolerates you more than the rest of us, though,” Shouyou argues.
“That’s jus’ cause I wear him down,” Atsumu points out. “I’m a jerk too, remember?”
Bokuto frowns. “I don’t think you’re a jerk, Tsum-Tsum. People just don’t really get you cause you don’t let them in.”
“Yeah, yeah,” says Atsumu dismissively. He changes the subject. “How’s yer serve comin’ along, Shou-kun?”
Shouyou brightens instantly. “Not too bad!” He says excitedly. “It makes it in more often than not, and I think I might be almost ready to start practicing with Inunaki!”
Bokuto looks proud. “I tried to receive one of ‘em and I couldn’t,” he says.
“Damn,” says Atsumu. “Ya gotta practice with me sometime, Shou. I could teach ya how ta do a jump float, if ya want!”
“Give me, like, two months,” Shouyou replies. “I still have to master my spike serve. But I think learning a jump float would be so cool! I love the way it goes like whoosh and then gwaaah over the net at that funny angle, it’s so unpredictable!”
Atsumu looks at Bokuto, questioning, but he just shrugs. Neither of them particularly understand Shouyou when he gets excited and reverts to communicating in sound effects, but it’s not as if they mind. They’re used to it, anyway.
“But yeah,” Shouyou continues, “I’d love to start learning in the off season!”
Atsumu grins. “Yer on.”
Bokuto and Shouyou stay until about three, promising to swing by after evening practice as well. Atsumu smiles when he waves goodbye, and it doesn’t feel forced.
He feels a bit better the next day. Not fully functional yet, but he manages to eat two solid meals and drink a full sixteen ounce bottle of water. He even tried some of the umeboshi Sakusa left for him. It’s far too sour for his taste, but something about it is bracing, and it gives him a burst of energy. Atsumu ends up cleaning his room, slowly but surely putting away the clothes that are strewn across the floor and wiping the dust from his bookshelf and desk.
When he’s done with that, he spends some time zoning out and coming up with volleyball plays for the upcoming game against the Adlers. He only has a week to bring himself back up to working condition, and though he’s managed it pretty well in the past, he’s still anxious about catching up in such a short amount of time.
The weekend passes slowly, yet when Atsumu looks back he can’t remember a single minute of it. His episodes often alter his sense of time, so this is nothing new. Bokuto’s talked about his ADHD doing the same thing; both of them are prone to losing track of time and being late to practice, even though they often wake up earlier than anyone else on the team.
On Monday morning, though, Atsumu takes extra care to keep track of the time. He will not be late to practice today, not after missing two full days the previous week. He meets Bokuto and Shouyou in the kitchen for breakfast. Sakusa doesn’t appear to be downstairs yet, which is pretty normal for him, seeing as he tends to sleep late and make it to practice right as they’re starting to warm up. Inunaki isn’t up yet either, which is also pretty typical for him.
Shouyou makes the three of them eggs--he learned how to cook in Brazil, and is probably the most proficient out of all of them. His eggs are perfect, just runny enough in the middle and slightly browned on the sides. Atsumu scarfs his down, Bokuto watching him approvingly.
“It’s good to see you eating again, Tsum-Tsum,” he says.
Atsumu grins. “It’s nice having my appetite back.”
Shouyou asks, carefully, “So you’re all better, then?”
Atsumu hesitates. He could lie, and say that he’s in top form once again. He’s not, though. Depressive episodes always take a couple of days to recover from, and this is only his first day back on his feet. Still, he feels a lot better than he did over the weekend, and he tells Shouyou as much.
“Glad to hear it,” says Shouyou brightly. “I missed your sets. We all did, actually!”
“Yeah, even--”
“Morning,” says Sakusa from behind Atsumu. Atsumu turns and finds himself face to face with his usual disdainful expression. At least he doesn’t seem any more annoyed than usual, Atsumu thinks.
“I assume you’ll be joining us at practice today?” Says Sakusa, addressing Atsumu.
“Yeah,” says Atsumu, trying to fill his voice with energy. “I’ll be there.”
“Good,” says Sakusa, tone bored. “We need you.” He grabs a granola bar and a banana--he never eats much in the mornings, Atsumu has noticed--and strides out the door.
“Well,” says Bokuto after a pause, “that could have gone a lot worse!”
Shouyou is frowning. “Yeah, that felt pretty anticlimactic, didn’t it?”
“Maybe he’s come to his senses and realizes that getting sick isn’t the end of the world,” Atsumu jokes.
“Yeah,” says Shouyou dubiously. “Maybe.”
The three of them finish their breakfast and head to the gym together. Sakusa is already heading to the court by the time they make it to the locker room. Atsumu quickly gets changed and joins the rest of the team for warm ups.
“Glad to see you’re not dead, Miya!” Yells Inunaki when he spots Atsumu. Atsumu chuckles weakly. “Not quite,” he replies. Sakusa eyes him but says nothing.
“Are you feeling better?” Barnes says, sounding concerned.
“Much better!” Says Atsumu cheerfully. “Jus’ caught a little bug, no big deal.”
Sakusa mutters something under his breath that Atsumu doesn’t catch.
“Anyway,” Atsumu continues, “how’s the new attack comin’ along?”
The team falls silence. Then Barnes says, “Uhh, about that--”
“We couldn’t practice it without you,” Sakusa breaks in bluntly. “So, not so well.”
Atsumu’s surprised. “Why couldn’t ya jus’ practice it with Kae?”
“ Kae didn’t come up with it, you did,” Sakusa points out.
Atsumu winces. He probably should have considered that before speaking.
“It’s okay,” Barnes says gently. “You were sick. There’s nothing you could have done.”
Sakusa’s nostrils flare. Uh oh. “Actually,” he breaks in, “there’s a lot he could have done, starting with not overworking himself and his teammates. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t take a single sip of water all day Wednesday.”
“Who are ya, my mother?” Atsumu jokes feebly.
Sakusa glares at him. “You know exactly what you did wrong,” he snaps. “So why don’t you just own up to it for once in your life.”
“Look,” Atsumu starts, “I’m really sorry I wasn’t bein’ smart about my health an’ all. I had a lot goin’ on--”
“So do all of us,” Sakusa fires back. “You don’t see the rest of us sacrificing our health just to get in an extra hour of practice, do you?”
“No,” Atsumu mumbles. “But--”
“If we lose this game, it’s on you.” Sakusa’s voice is cold, and Atsumu flinches as he processes the words. Sakusa’s not wrong, really. Maybe that’s why it hurts so bad to hear those words.
“Omi…” Bokuto says, “You can’t take this out on him. You have no idea--”
“What?” Sakusa demands, eyes on Atsumu. “I have no idea what it’s like to be busy? To be tired?”
“That’s not it,” Atsumu protests. “Ya don’ know the full story--”
“Then tell me,” Sakusa snaps. “Make me understand why you failed to take care of yourself.”
Atsumu hesitates, and Sakusa nods coolly. “That’s what I thought.”
Atsumu feels anger flare up in his chest, and before he can stop himself he says, “Ya know, fer someone who claims ta be so perfect, yer kinda a prick.”
Sakusa stills. “I never claimed to be perfect,” he says quietly.
Atsumu opens his mouth to say something, anything to that, but Meian speaks up then. “Sakusa,” he says wearily, “please stop attacking Atsumu. He didn’t mean to get sick, or hurt the team in any way. You know just as well as the rest of us that he would never be intentionally careless.”
Sakusa gives him a short nod before sitting stiffly on the floor to start his stretches. Atsumu stares at him until his eyes start to burn and he has to look away. Bokuto gives him a concerned glance, and Atsumu smiles weakly in response. See? I’m fine, he tries to convey.
Bokuto doesn’t look convinced.
The rest of the team begins to converse quietly amongst themselves until Coach Foster arrives and lays out the plan for the day. Atsumu tries to listen, but his brain sticks on Sakusa’s harsh words.
The rest of practice is brutal. Atsumu syncs up all right with Bokuto, Shouyou and Barnes, but every single one of his sets to Sakusa miss their mark. It’s not Sakusa’s fault, either; it’s just that every time Atsumu sets the ball, he second guesses his toss, and the hesitation is enough to blow the whole set.
“What’s with you?” Sakusa snaps at him during their break. Atsumu shrugs, too tired to fight back. After the break he’s a bit better, getting maybe half of his tosses to connect. Still, his gameplay is off, and it’s noticeable enough that Coach Foster pulls him aside after the practice match.
“Are you all right?” He asks Atsumu.
“Yeah,” he says, “jus’ recoverin’ that’s all.”
“Okay,” says Foster. “Just...promise you’ll tell me if you need a break, all right?”
“I will,” Atsumu lies. He can’t afford to take a break, not now.
Not after what happened.
If we lose this game, it’s on you.
Chapter Text
The game starts out fine. Really, it does; they even manage to take the first set. It’s in the second set where it all goes to shit.
Kiyoomi’s not really sure when exactly it all goes wrong, but if he had to decide, he’d say it starts when Bokuto goes up against Kageyama and Hoshiumi’s block--and gets entirely shut down. Although he’s not prone to entering ‘emo mode’ in the same way that he did in high school, the block still gets him down, and his performance suffers as a result. His connections with Atsumu are weak, no matter how hard Atsumu tries to match up with him.
They lose the second set, leaving the teams at a score of 1:1.
In between the second and third sets, as they’re taking a water break, Kiyoomi approaches Atsumu.
“What the hell was that?” He demands, waving a hand in the general direction of the court.
“What?” Says Atsumu.
Kiyoomi seethes. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Miya. The new attack barely got off the ground. I don’t know how you expect us to score any points when you can’t even sync up your damn sets,” Kiyoomi snaps.
“I’m trying, all right?” Atsumu fires back. “Cut me some slack.”
Kiyoomi stares at him. “If you think I can afford to do that, then you’re out of your mind.” Then he stalks off, leaving Atsumu fuming behind him.
The third set is brutal.
They’re halfway through the set and six points behind, and the gap only widens from there. Bokuto’s out of it, Atsumu’s discouraged, and Kiyoomi second guesses every other one of Atsumu’s sets. Only Barnes and Hinata are holding their offense together, and at least the team manages to take a few points with Meian and Atsumu’s quick attack.
Still, it’s not enough.
They lose by eight points, and nothing that Foster or Meian says to them seems to be getting through.
By the fourth set, the entire team is off their game. Hinata and Barnes are once again carrying their offensive power, while Adriah is forced to sit out temporarily due to a slight ankle twist, leaving Meian and Inunaki as their sole defensive players. They hold the line well, but still, it’s not enough. The Adlers are at match point, and the ball’s in the Jackals’ court. Inunaki receives and passes to Atsumu, who sets to Kiyoomi, who swings--and misses the ball entirely. Their timing was off, and even Hinata’s glorious dive is not enough to save them.
They only lose the set by three points, but that doesn’t matter; they still lose, and that’s enough to drag all of them into a funk. Even worse, they had already agreed to go out with the Adlers after the game in a show of sportsmanship, along with Motoya, Osamu, and Suna, all of whom had come to watch the match.
It would be painful, to say the least.
The Jackals gather near the atrium for post-game interviews. The press usually groups Hinata, Bokuto, Atsumu and Kiyoomi together, and tonight is no exception.
“So, Hinata Shouyou,” the reporter begins, holding the mic to Hinata’s face. “That dive you made at the end was very well done. It must have been disappointing to fall short of the ball.”
“Is that a question?” Says Hinata, confused.
The reporter ignores him and moves on to Bokuto. “Bokuto-san, your performance started out excellent. Where would you say it all went wrong?”
Bokuto looks like he’s barely holding it together when he says, “Probably the block, to be honest. A shut down like that can be really discouraging. Although it gets to me now less than it did in high school, it’s still kinda a bummer.”
The reporter just nods and moves on to Atsumu without any follow ups. “Miya-san, you seemed off your game tonight as well. Could you tell us why?”
Atsumu rubs the back of his neck nervously. It’s an anxious habit Kiyoomi’s noticed before, and he wonders why it’s coming out now. Atsumu’s never been intimidated by the press before; he usually jumps at the chance to have their attention on him.
Then again, maybe that’s only when they win.
“Ya know,” Atsumu starts, “it’s been kinda a rough week fer me. I wish I hadn’t brought my issues onto the court, but sometimes it’s hard not ta, ya know?”
“I see. Should we be expecting this level of performance from you in the future?” The reporter asks him bluntly.
“Definitely not. This was a one-off, I can promise ya that much,” Atsumu clarifies.
The reporter nods and turns to Kiyoomi. “Sakusa Kiyoomi, what do you have to say regarding your final hit of the game?”
Kiyoomi grits his teeth and forces a smile. “We all fail to connect at times. It’s inevitable. We were all off our game tonight, so I’m sure that didn’t help, but either way, I can assure you that it will not be happening again.” He chances a glance at Atsumu, who’s staring at the ground.
“All right!” Chirps the obnoxious reporter. She moves on to interview Meian, Adriah, Inunaki and Barnes, leaving the others to return to the locker room in silence. Kiyoomi takes his time in the shower, scrubbing off the sweat and relishing the steam rising up around him. The older players filter in and then out, and Kiyoomi assumes that the younger three are long gone as well.
When he finally leaves the shower and towels off, though, he finds he’s not alone.
Atsumu sits on the bench, fully dressed with dripping hair, head in his hands. Kiyoomi feels a wave of anger wash over him as he watches Atsumu mope. This is your fault, he thinks. He doesn’t say that, though. He doesn’t need to. Instead he says, “What happened out there tonight, Miya?”
Atsumu jolts as if he hadn’t formerly been aware of Kiyoomi’s presence. “Jesus, Omi. Ya scared me,” he says, hand on his chest.
“What happened?” Kiyoomi repeats.
Atsumu shrugs. “Off my game. Happens ta the best of us. S’not like ya were any better.”
Kiyoomi scoffs. “I was better than whatever the hell you were doing. Speaking of, did you even know what you were doing? Because it sure didn’t look like it.”
Atsumu stands, so suddenly that Kiyoomi flinches. “Ya know what?” He says. “I don’ give a shit what ya think. Ya will never understand what’s goin’ on, an’ quite frankly, I don’ trust ya enough ta tell ya shit. Yer crossin’ a line that ya don’ even know is there, and it’s not entirely yer fault, but that doesn’t make it okay.” Then he turns on his heel and leaves.
Kiyoomi just stands there blankly. He’s not sure he’s ever heard something so eloquent from Atsumu before.
So why does Kiyoomi still have no idea what he’s talking about?
Kiyoomi shakes his head. Later, he promises himself. I’ll interrogate him later.
He packs up the rest of his things and leaves the gym. He’s glad it’s a home game; he can leave his extra clothing in his locker instead of having to carry it back to a hotel room, like the Adlers likely have to.
He meets Motoya outside the front entrance. He’s waiting just off to the side, easily recognizable in his highlighter orange windbreaker. Kiyoomi usually makes fun of him for his terrible fashion sense--he’s favored neon shades ever since they graduated Itachiyama--but not tonight. Tonight he’s weary, upset by their loss and the subsequent end of their season.
“Hey,” Motoya greets him when he approaches. “You good?”
“I’m fine,” Kiyoomi lies. “Where are we meeting the others?”
Motoya hesitates. “You’re not going to like this,” he says.
“I highly doubt this day could get any worse,” says Kiyoomi.
“We’re meeting at a karaoke bar,” says Motoya, grimacing.
Kiyoomi was wrong. This day just got so much worse. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “Seriously?”
“It was Hoshiumi’s idea, apparently,” explains Motoya. “Hinata and Bokuto were quick to get on board. I tried to talk them out of it, but I couldn’t dissuade them,” he adds apologetically.
“It’s fine,” Kiyoomi says tiredly. “It’s not as if I’m going to participate, anyway. Just please , for the love of god, get me drunk.”
“Yes, sir,” says Motoya, grinning. “Does this mean--”
“Shots? Honestly, I don’t care,” says Kiyoomi honestly. “Whatever does the job.”
Motoya rubs his hands together. “Oh, trust me, they will.”
They arrive at the bar shortly after 9:30 PM. Hoshiumi must have found a way to rent it out at the last second, or maybe he’d planned this all along, because it’s empty except for the two teams, along with their close friends.
“Great,” mutters Kiyoomi. Not that he isn’t pleased that he won’t be hit on by strangers, but still. It’ll be so much harder to hide from his team now.
Suna approaches the two of them as they near the bar. “Hey,” he says, face expressionless. Kiyoomi finds him harder to read than anyone he’s ever met.
“Hey!” Chirps Motoya. “Whatcha drinking?”
“Beer,” replies Suna. “You?”
“Probably vodka in some form,” Motoya admits. “Kiyoomi here needs to get drunk, so I’m going to do my best to work with that.”
“Ah,” says Suna, nodding sagely. “The post-loss-drunk, am I right?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” Motoya replies. He nudges Kiyoomi. “Kiyo’s a bit down, so I’m expecting a sad drunk from him tonight.”
“Since when have I ever been a ‘sad drunk’?” Kiyoomi says, annoyed.
“You haven’t, but it’s never too late to start!” Motoya replies.
“Pretty sure ‘Tsumu’s planning on getting wasted, too,” Suna says.
“That’s no surprise,” Kiyoomi mutters. Suna looks like he wants to say something to that, but then the bartender comes over to their side of the bar, and Suna excuses himself to go hang out with Osamu.
“What can I get ya?” Says the bartender, wiping down a glass as she speaks.
“I’ll get a vodka cranberry, and he’ll have, let’s see, three? Shots of tequila,” he says, glancing at Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi just nods; he couldn’t care less what he’s putting in his body right now.
The bartender pours out the shots, and Kiyoomi takes them in quick succession, foregoing the salt-and-lime ritual that most people tend to favor. He grimaces at the bitter flavor as it burns down his throat, hitting his stomach and warming him from inside almost instantaneously. He slams the last shot glass down and stumbles from his seat. Motoya catches him with a wince. “Woah there! You good, Kiyo?”
“M’ fine,” Kiyoomi grumbles.
Motoya doesn’t seem convinced. “I’m gonna keep an eye on you,” he declares. “C’mon, let’s go watch Hoshiumi perform. I heard he’s doing some Lady Gaga song. Actually, I’m pretty sure everyone’s going with American pop tonight,” he muses. “So that should be interesting.”
Interesting indeed.
Hoshiumi is already starting when they reach the stage. The ‘stage’ in question is only about a foot off the ground, but the way Hoshiumi puffs his chest out you’d think he was at least ten feet above the rest of them.
The song he chose to sing is one Kiyoomi’s never heard before. Apparently it’s from 2013, too, so he’s not sure how it’s never come up before. It’s catchy, with an alluring beat and provocative lyrics to match.
“ I wanna be that guy (G.U.Y.)
I wanna be that guy (G.U.Y.)” Sings Hoshiumi. The mic is so close to his mouth that Kiyoomi cringes at the thought of all the spit that must be accumulating on its surface. Someone, probably Motoya, passes him a drink, and he takes a swig without even noticing the flavor or the aftertaste. His mouth feels numb and his limbs are tingling; belatedly he realizes he probably should have eaten something before getting wasted.
Next up for karaoke is Hinata and Kageyama. They’re singing a duet, and chose the song ‘ Telephone’, also by Lady Gaga. She seems to be popular tonight, Kiyoomi notes.
They work well together, or at least they do when they’re not constantly competing against one another. Actually, Kiyoomi’s fairly certain that they’re currently competing to see who can be the better singer, resulting in a pretty decent duet. Kageyama’s voice leaves much to be desired, but at least he’s in tune, and Hinata isn’t half bad.
Motoya ditches Kiyoomi to perform the next song with Suna. They sing ‘ Baby One More Time’ by Britney Spears, and Kiyoomi finds himself genuinely impressed by their talent. Suna’s voice could be mistaken for an angel’s and Motoya’s always been able to carry a tune. They’re perfectly dramatic, gesturing wildly and moving about the stage as they sing. Motoya’s more expressive than Suna is, but Suna makes up for it in the sheer quality of his voice.
Kiyoomi actually cheers when they dismount the stage. I must be drunker than I thought, he thinks idly as he sips his Mystery Drink. Motoya rejoins him as Inunaki takes the stage, performing ‘ Hips Don’t Lie’.
“Wow, he’s really going for it, isn’t he,” comments Motoya, watching Inunaki shake his hips as he sings. He’s not a terrible dancer, but Kiyoomi can’t help but feel a little bit embarrassed for him. He’s got a lot of confidence, at least. Not that it helps all that much, but still.
Inunaki finishes his performance, bowing grandly to his applauding audience, and exits the stage.
“I wonder who’s next?” Says Motoya. Kiyoomi just shrugs. He doesn’t really care, as long as it’s not--
“Hello, ladies n’ gents,” Atsumu slurs into the mic as he struggles to climb up on the stage.
Oh, no.
He’s clearly wasted, maybe more so than Kiyoomi’s ever seen him.
“Tonight,” Atsumu announces, “I’d like ta dedicate my song ta Sakusa Kiyoomi!”
Kiyoomi pales. “What is he doing,” he mumbles.
Motoya just shrugs. “It’s Atsumu, who knows?”
“He’s doing this to embarrass me, isn’t he,” Kiyoomi says dully. For a moment he thinks he actually might be too drunk to care.
Then the music starts.
The opening notes to ‘ Toxic’ by Britney Spears filter through the speakers mounted in the corner of the room.
Shit.
“ Baby can’t ya see, I’m callin’,
A guy like you, should wear a warnin’,
It’s dangerous, I’m fallin’,” sings Atsumu, finding Kiyoomi in the crowd.
“What did you do to upset him this time, Kiyo?” Motoya says wearily.
“Nothing!” Says Kiyoomi quickly. “I just…” What? Told him he didn’t know what he was doing? That our loss was his fault?
At least the last part was indirect, but still.
“I may have said some things,” Kiyoomi admits.
Atsumu glares at him from the stage, practically sneering as he sings,
“With a taste of yer lips, I'm on a ride
Yer toxic, I'm slippin' under
With a taste of a poison paradise
I'm addicted to ya
Don'tcha know that yer toxic?
And I love what ya do
Don'tcha know that yer toxic?”
“Kiyo,” Motoya groans. “Seriously? I thought the two of you were starting to get along!”
“That was before he missed two days of practice after overworking himself and getting himself sick,” Kiyoomi protests. “What, I can’t be upset with him for not taking care of himself?”
Motoya looks appalled. “He got sick, and you’re blaming him?”
“I mean, it’s kind of his fault,” Kiyoomi argues. “I was just being honest.”
“What did you say to him?”
“Just that it’s on him if we lost against the Adlers,” Kiyoomi replies casually.
Motoya stares at him. “ What?”
“What? I’m not wrong,” Kiyoomi says.
“Kiyo,” says Motoya, exasperated. “A team has six players. And you were off your game, too. Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t.”
Kiyoomi ignores him, staring Atsumu down. Atsumu’s burning a hole in his head and Kiyoomi can’t look away. It’s not just a statement, Kiyoomi realizes then.
It’s a challenge.
“ I’m addicted to ya,
Don’tcha know that yer toxic?”
Kiyoomi holds his eyes as he finishes the song and stalks off the stage. Before Kiyoomi knows what he’s doing, he’s moving through the crowd, leaving Motoya behind him. He strides right up to Atsumu and knocks into his shoulder. “That was good,” he says coolly, “but I can do better.”
Something like a fire lights in Atsumu’s eyes. “Oh?”
“Watch me,” Kiyoomi retorts. Then, without another thought, he mounts the stage and grabs the mic. The crowd goes silent in shock. No one expected this from Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi didn’t expect this from Kiyoomi.
Kiyoomi approaches the karaoke machine and selects a song. He doesn’t put too much effort into the choice, but he thinks it’s fitting. An insult worthy of Atsumu.
Superstar, where you from? How's it going?
I know you got a clue what you're doing,” he sings, and sees understanding dawn on Atsumu’s face. His face twists up in anger, which is probably justified, seeing as he’s not actually the womanizer the press makes him out to be. It’s actually sort of a sore spot for him; he’s mentioned that before.
And now Kiyoomi’s using that against him.
“ Womanizer, woman-womanizer, you’re a womanizer,
Oh, womanizer, oh, you’re a womanizer baby,” Kiyoomi sings with abandon. He must be much drunker than he thought; he’s actually getting into it, swaying from side to side as he belts the lyrics out (although he’s not entirely certain whether he’s swaying by choice or because he’s just that drunk). He’s not a bad singer, when he actually tries, and right now he’s trying harder than he ever has in his life.
Kiyoomi makes it through the song and considers dropping the mic, but instead decides to maintain some level of decorum, placing the mic neatly in the stand before stumbling off the stage. He walks right up to Atsumu and jabs a finger at his chest. “That,” he says, “was for you.”
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Osamu and Suna exchange a worried glance, but he ignores them. Atsumu looks pissed . “Jus’ ya wait,” he snarls. “I’m gonna blow yer stupid performance outta the water.”
He turns and stalks up to the stage, pushing aside a baffled Bokuto. “I need a redo,” he explains shortly before grabbing the mic and violently selecting a song. Bokuto just shrugs and leaves the stage, looking mildly concerned.
“Just let them get it out of their systems,” Kiyoomi hears Meian say.
Right.
The music starts then, and Kiyoomi recognizes the opening to ‘ Whatcha Say’. He wonders if Atsumu knows it would work much better as a duet, or if he even cares. Probably the latter.
“ Mm whatcha say?
Mm that ya only meant well?
Well of course ya did
Mm whatcha say?
Mm that it's all fer the best?”
Kiyoomi scowls. Leave it to Atsumu to find a song that points all the blame at him.
“What is this, some sorta karaoke-off?” Osamu drawls.
“Why don’t you ask your brother,” Kiyoomi replies stiffly.
“I doubt he’s in the right mind ta tell me shit,” Osamu says. “Also, I’d rather stay out of...whatever this is.” He waves a hand vaguely in Kiyoomi’s direction. Suna remains silent beside him. Kiyoomi just shrugs and turns back to the stage, meeting Atsumu’s eyes. He’s singing like his life depends on it, and even through his anger Kiyoomi has to admit he has a nice voice, even better than Kiyoomi’s. It’s rich and smooth and would probably sound a whole lot better if the singer wasn’t such a dick.
Atsumu finishes the song with flair and drops the mic, making Kiyoomi wish he’d done it first. He leaves the stage and comes up to Kiyoomi, his expression obnoxiously smug. “Try and top that, ” he boasts.
Kiyoomi never could resist a challenge.
He mounts the stage before anyone else can claim the next slot, and hears the rest of his team collectively sigh.
“Here we go again,” Inunaki mutters. Bokuto looks glum, and Kiyoomi remembers with no small amount of guilt that he was supposed to go next. He makes a mental note to apologize to Bokuto later.
Kiyoomi swipes the mic off of the sticky floor, trying not to think about the germs that likely cover its surface and instead focusing on the promise of a hot shower once he’s home. He selects a song, and the music starts.
He chose to sing Katy Perry’s ‘Hot N Cold’, which he thinks is fairly fitting.
“You change your mind
Like a girl changes clothes
Yeah you, PMS
Like a bitch
I would know.”
He sees Atsumu stiffen slightly from where he’s standing between Osamu and Suna. Good, Kiyoomi thinks, pleased to see that he seems to have struck a chord.
He puts more effort into this performance than he did the last one, determined to outdo Atsumu whether or not he has the better voice (he does, but you’ll never hear Kiyoomi say it).
“Someone call the doctor
Got a case of a love bipolar,” Kiyoomi sings, and Atsumu pales. Interesting.
“Stuck on a roller coaster
Can't get off this ride.”
Atsumu seems oddly rattled after that, to Kiyoomi’s satisfaction. He climbs off the stage, wobbling a bit, and approaches Atsumu, who’s glaring daggers at him. “Ya went too far this time,” he hisses at Kiyoomi. He knocks shoulders with him as he passes by on the way to the stage.
“Not again,” Kiyoomi hears someone groan, probably Adriah or Inunaki. Maybe both.
This time Atsumu sings “ Rude” , crooning the lyrics in a foreboding manner. He should hear himself right now, Kiyoomi thinks savagely.
“Why you gotta be so rude?
Don't you know I'm human too?
Why you gotta be so rude?
I'm gonna marry her anyway,” Atsumu sings, and Kiyoomi can’t help but think he might be missing the point of the song.
Suna must be thinking the same thing, because he mutters “Questionable choice,” and Osamu nods in agreement. “Honestly, I think he’s too drunk ta understand the lyrics at this point,” he whispers back.
Kiyoomi marches onto the stage the moment he’s done and takes the mic straight out of his hand. Atsumu scowls before getting off the stage, leaving Kiyoomi to decide on a song. He takes his time, scrolling through the options before realizing that none of them quite fit what he wants to say. He eventually decides on a Kelly Clarkson song, because why not? It’s not as if Atsumu’s last song had much meaning to it, anyway.
Kiyoomi clears his throat and sings, “I will not make the same mistakes that you did
I will not let myself
Cause my heart so much misery.”
The song requires a lot of concentration, seeing as it’s basically a ballad. Kiyoomi didn’t intend to pour so much emotion into it initially, but once again, he’s pretty much wasted.
When he descends the stage, Atsumu boos. “Bad song choice,” he claims.
Kiyoomi glares at him. “As if your last one was any better.”
“I was jus’ gettin warmed up,” Atsumu blusters.
“Fine,” sneers Kiyoomi.
“Fine!” Atsumu stalks over to the stage, grabbing the mic and jabbing his finger into the screen to select a song. Kiyoomi recognizes it without much difficulty, and he has to admit that it probably fits the situation better than his last choice.
“ I’m holdin’ on yer rope
Got me ten feet off the ground
An’ I’m hearin’ what ya say
But I jus’ can’t make a sound.”
“I don’t know, I think he got you with this one,” Suna says to Kiyoomi.
“ It’s too late ta apologize, it’s too late,” Atsumu sings. “ I said it’s too late ta apologize, it’s too late.”
He gets about halfway through the song before Meian finally cracks. He climbs up onto the stage and grabs the mic from Atsumu’s hand, music still playing in the background.
“That’s enough,” Meian snaps. “I can’t take this anymore. If you’re going to fight, go do it somewhere else and let the rest of us enjoy our night. Got it?”
Atsumu puts his hands up, somewhat unsteady on his feet. “Got it, cap,” he says before adding, “Ta be fair, Kiyoomi kinda started it--”
“I absolutely did not,” Kiyoomi argues. “You’re the one who chose to dedicate a song to me--”
“Yeah, well--”
“ Enough!” Yells Meian. “Out. Now.” He points at the door turning his glare on Kiyoomi. “You too, Sakusa,” he says. Kiyoomi scowls but nods respectfully before making his way through the crowd towards the door. Behind him he hears Meian handing the mic to Bokuto and the opening notes to ‘ Single Ladies’ play. Atsumu follows Kiyoomi, Osamu, Suna and Motoya trailing behind them.
When they get outside, Atsumu shoves Kiyoomi up against the wall, so suddenly that the breath leaves Kiyoomi’s lungs. Neither Osamu or Suna make any move to stop him, and Motoya seems to be in shock.
“What the hell was that?” Atsumu snaps, pulling Kiyoomi’s attention back to him. “Ya jus’ got us in trouble with the team in front of half the V. League!”
“ I got us in trouble?” Kiyoomi seethes. “ You’re the one who started this whole thing!”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’tve had ta if ya hadn’t provoked me!” Atsumu bites back.
“Guys,” Motoya interrupts nervously, “Can we talk about this another time? I really don’t want to get yelled at right now.”
Atsumu glares at Kiyoomi for a long moment before releasing him roughly. Kiyoomi slumps against the wall, suddenly exhausted. I’m too drunk for this.
“Let’s go home,” Motoya coaxes Kiyoomi.
“I don’ wanna,” Kiyoomi mumbles. “ He’ll be there.”
Atsumu, who had previously been ignoring Kiyoomi, whips around at that and says, “As if I wanna live with ya anymore either, jerk.”
“‘Tsumu can stay with us tonight,” Osamu chimes in. “But ya should probably work yer issues out sooner rather than later.”
“Yeah, I’d hate it if we crushed you next game because you’re like this,” says Suna, gesturing at the both of them. “I want to beat you fairly, at least.”
“Bastard,” grumbles Atsumu. “Fine. I’ll go with ya tonight, if only so I don’ have ta see his face fer a little while.”
“Back at you,” Kiyoomi sneers.
Motoya rolls his eyes. “C’mon,” he says to Kiyoomi. To Suna and Osamu he says, “See you both tomorrow!”
“Yer hanging out with them tomorrow?” Atsumu accuses his brother and Suna.
“No,” Suna corrects, “we’re hanging out with Toya. Don’t worry, neither of you are invited.”
That’s the last thing Kiyoomi hears before Motoya drags him away. The trip home is a blur, and Kiyoomi collapses into bed without so much as brushing his teeth. In the morning, he promises himself.
“Spare futon’s in closet,” he mumbles to Motoya, and then he falls asleep.
The next morning brings Kiyoomi the worst hangover of his life. His throat is dry and his mouth tastes like something crawled into it and then died. He groans and tries to cover his face with his pillow, but somehow the light creeps in anyway.
“Morning, sleepyhead!” Motoya says, far too loudly for Kiyoomi’s taste.
“Go away,” grumbles Kiyoomi.
“No can do!” Motoya says cheerfully. “We have breakfast plans.”
Kiyoomi squints up at him. “I thought you had plans with Osamu and Suna.”
“That’s later,” says Motoya, waving a hand. “Now, we’re getting breakfast at that one cafe you like. What’s it called again? ‘New’ something?”
“I don’t know,” mumbles Kiyoomi. Really, he just doesn’t care.
Motoya eyes him. “Right. Anyway, we should probably get going soon, since I only have a few hours to hang before I meet up with the guys.”
Kiyoomi wonders when Osamu and Suna became ‘the guys’. Then he realizes he doesn’t care about that, either.
“C’mon, Kiyooo,” Motoya whines. “I’m hungryyy.”
“Fine,” grouches Kiyoomi. “But only if you promise to stop talking for at least an hour.”
“Half hour,” Motoya bargains. Kiyoomi just waves a hand in response and goes to shower.
After he’s made himself presentable, he leads Motoya to the cafe in question. It’s called ‘New Moon’, Kiyoomi notices. He doesn’t really think of it as having a name, but he’s been a regular there since he moved to Osaka.
“Sakusa!” The barista greets him when they approach the counter. “How are you?”
“He’s very hungover,” Motoya chimes in from beside him. He sticks out a hand. “Hi! I’m Motoya, Kiyoomi’s cousin.”
“I’m Ami,” says the barista, and Kiyoomi wonders if he’d known that previously. He’s sure he’d heard the name before, but he’s not so great at remembering names in general.
Motoya strikes up a conversation with Ami as Kiyoomi looks over the menu. He decides on eggs, since he’s desperately in need of some protein, and a double shot espresso. Motoya picks out several pastries and a sugary coffee drink as he flirts with Ami, and he has her phone number by the time they’re seated.
“You’re ridiculous,” mumble Kiyoomi as he digs into his food.
“I’m a catch,” Motoya corrects him. “You wish you could pick up girls like I do.”
“I really don’t.”
“Fine. You wish you could pick up guys the way I pick up girls,” Motoya amends.
“Still no.”
“So,” Motoya says, changing the subject. “Are we going to talk about last night?”
Kiyoomi picks at his eggs. “No.”
“Kiyo,” says Motoya, “you did karaoke in front of half the V. League.”
“That’s an exaggeration. It was only about a quarter of the V League,” says Kiyoomi. “And anyway, it was necessary.”
“How, exactly?” Says Motoya skeptically.
Kiyoomi shrugs. “Miya challenged me. You know I can’t resist a challenge.”
Motoya stares at him. “Do you even know how absurd you sound right now?”
Kiyoomi shrugs. “He was pissing me off. How could I not retaliate?”
“Still, I thought you were more mature than that,” Motoya says.
“Yeah, well, you’re not the first person to say that,” replies Kiyoomi.
“Oh, I believe it.” Motoya hesitates before saying, “How are you going to approach this whole thing with Miya? You have to face him eventually, you know.”
Kiyoomi considers this before saying, “Does your team have any openings at the moment?”
Motoya groans. “C’mon, Kiyo,” he says. “You know just as well as I do that you’d be miserable playing on the same team as Suna and I.”
“You’re right,” Kiyoomi decides. “Adlers it is, then.”
Motoya rolls his eyes. “Sometimes you’re such a drama queen, I swear to god. I don’t know how I ever thought you were straight.”
“Me neither,” Kiyoomi replies.
“Seriously, though,” says Motoya after a pause. “What are you going to do?”
Kiyoomi stares into his half-empty espresso cup. “I don’t know.”
“You could talk to him like an adult,” Motoya suggests gently. “You know, express your feelings, listen respectfully, use ‘I’ statements--”
“I know how to talk to people,” Kiyoomi snaps. Then he pauses. “Most people.”
“Exactly.”
Kiyoomi sighs. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll try to talk to him.”
“That’s what I like to hear!” Says Motoya, satisfied. “What did Miya do that made you so upset, anyway? Aside from getting himself sick, of course,” he adds dryly.
Kiyoomi scowls. “He kept us after practice for about an hour every day last week, or at least he did before he got ill. On Wednesday, he overworked himself to the point where he fell. He could have seriously injured himself, and for what?” Kiyoomi rants, only pausing for breath.
“You were worried about him,” Motoya says softly.
“What? No,” says Kiyoomi. “You’re missing the point. He could have--he did-- jeopardize our team’s standing in the league.”
“So you’re just going to pretend you don’t care about him at all?” Says Motoya, sounding unconvinced.
“It’s not that I don’t care,” Kiyoomi hedges, “it’s that his actions hurt the team as a whole. It’s not just about him.”
“Sure,” says Motoya, “Whatever you say.”
“It’s not just about him,” Kiyoomi repeats, frustrated.
“That implies that part of it is about him,” Motoya counters.
“I mean, of course I don’t want to see Miya get hurt,” Kiyoomi says. “I’m not a monster.”
“You’d miss him if he couldn’t play,” Motoya says.
“I’d miss his sets,” Kiyoomi corrects. “His personality, not so much.”
“Are you sure about that? You seemed to be getting along all right the last time I saw you both at our last game,” Motoya says.
“Yes, because he played well,” Kiyoomi explains patiently. “He also helped me escape the press after the game. That doesn’t make us friends.”
“What do you mean, he ‘helped you escape the press’?” Says Motoya, confused.
“Well, I was kind of cornered after I left the court,” says Kiyoomi, “and I didn’t have my mask on me, so I was pretty uncomfortable. Ats--Miya,” he corrects, “barged right in and stole the show, as he tends to do. Truthfully, I’m not even sure he intended to help me. I’m pretty sure he just likes the attention.”
Motoya hums, looking thoughtful. “So then you escaped?”
“Yes. I kind of just slipped out and made it to the locker room without any other incidents.”
“That was nice of him, to do that for you,” says Motoya.
“Once again, I’m pretty sure he had no idea he was helping me,” Kiyoomi says irritably. “Atsumu’s not like that.”
“Like what? Considerate?”
“More like observant,” Kiyoomi says. “He’s considerate enough, when he knows it’s warranted.”
Motoya hums again. “It sounds like he’s making an effort to be your friend, and you’re not giving him much back,” he eventually says.
Kiyoomi laughs. “Yeah, right,” he says. “He has Bokuto and Hinata. Miya and I are nothing alike. We’re not compatible as friends.”
“Whatever you say, Kiyo,” Motoya replies. Kiyoomi frowns, not entirely satisfied with that answer, but before he can say anything Motoya’s phone buzzes. He checks the screen and curses. “I have to go meet Osamu and Suna in half an hour.” He glances up from his phone. “You’ll be okay, right?”
“Of course,” Kiyoomi says neutrally. “Enjoy your date.”
Motoya sputters. “First, you know that if I swung that way the only man I’d date is Iwaizumi, and he’s very much taken,” he says. “Second, ew.”
“My bad. Have fun third wheeling,” Kiyoomi corrects himself.
“Have fun sulking in your room,” Motoya says, shooting Kiyoomi a cheeky smile. He gets up from his seat and pushes the chair in neatly. Then he hesitates.
“What?” Kiyoomi demands. “I know you have something to say, just get on with it.”
“I know our family isn’t so good when it comes to considering and accommodating mental health,” Motoya says carefully, gripping the back of his chair. “They didn’t exactly educate us about any of that. I never even researched anxiety until you had your first panic attack.”
“Yes, and?” Says Kiyoomi impatiently.
“Not everyone is able to keep their mental illness from impacting their life in a major way,” Motoya says. “Just...keep that in mind, okay?”
“Okay,” says Kiyoomi. “I’ll try.”
Motoya waves goodbye and strolls away, leaving Kiyoomi wondering what he meant. He doesn’t know anyone with a serious mental illness, does he? He doesn’t think so, anyway. He suspects Bokuto might be ADHD, or at least he’s seen some signs that point in that general direction, but ADHD isn’t that serious.
Either way, Kiyoomi’s fairly certain he would know if anyone in his life was neurodivergent. It’s not as if his teammates are perfect, but none of them have mental breakdowns, as far as he’s aware, and none of them show signs of being depressed, either. Kiyoomi might be ignorant, but he’s not stupid.
Kiyoomi’s parents had been...less than forthcoming when it came to discussing matters regarding mental health. Kiyoomi has low level anxiety, and has experienced the occasional panic attack since the age of six. He’d never been on medication for it, or gone to therapy, and his parents had simply treated him as if nothing was wrong. Eventually, Kiyoomi had accepted the fact that nothing really was. If he could push through it on his own, then it wasn’t really that serious.
Kiyoomi knows that there are plenty of people who need medication and therapy to survive. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. Kiyoomi just isn’t one of those people.
His parents had always told him that it’s pretty obvious when someone is in need of psychiatric care. They never really elaborated on that, but all of Kiyoomi’s basic research had revealed only the most obvious of symptoms. The neurodivergent brain simply functions differently, causing altered personalities and habits. Kiyoomi would know a neurodivergent person if he saw them.
He’s certain of it.
Notes:
fun fact: this fic was actually supposed to be a karaoke scene one shot, at least it was until I realized I could just make it a karaoke-angst-battle in my bipolar Atsumu fic. Shout out to my sister for the idea
The song Hoshiumi chose, G.U.Y. is incredibly underrated (as are most songs on ‘artpop’) and I highly recommend y’all take a listen
And just to be clear, I do not approve of Katy Perry’s choice of lyrics in Hot N Cold, I simply needed it as a plot device. The use of the word bipolar as an adjective is harmful and dissociates the word from its true meaning; it’s a literal mental illness and should not be thrown around casually.
Also I promise the angst will start to resolve itself soon <3 next chapter should be up by Monday or Tuesday at the latest but maybe tomorrow? we will see
big thank you to everyone who's reading this fic/leaving comments/kudos, it really means a lot to me and it makes me so happy to hear that y'all are enjoying it!
last thing: my insta is @oikawaskneeinjury, if anyone out there--especially neurodivergent friends--ever need to talk! Just know I'm here
Chapter Text
In retrospect, maybe Atsumu should have gone back to the sharehouse.
Atsumu barely remembers coming back to Osamu's apartment, and he certainly doesn’t remember passing out on the couch. He’d woken up with a massive headache around 1:30 PM, about an hour after Osamu and Suna had headed out to meet Motoya. Atsumu had found a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water left out for him on the coffee table and a note from Osamu saying, ‘Back at three. Food in fridge.’
Atsumu had taken the painkillers, but only after confirming that they didn’t interact badly with any of his other medications. Then he drained the glass and promptly passed out again. He drifted in and out of sleep for the next two hours, only waking up fully when he heard the door swing open.
“Damn, ‘Tsumu,” Suna had said when he spotted Atsumu sprawled across the couch.
Osamu had grimaced. “Last night really did a number on ya, huh?”
“No shit,” mumbled Atsumu. “Please don’ ask me what happened last night.”
Suna and Osamu had exchanged a glance. “So ya don’ remember, then?” Osamu asked him.
“No, I do,” Atsumu corrected. “Jus’ wish I didn’t.”
“Fair enough,” said Suna as he flopped into the armchair opposite Atsumu, switching on the tv to some American crime show.
At some point they’d migrated to the kitchen to eat, and Atsumu’s been staring blankly out the window ever since.
“Tsumu?” Osamu says now, sounding vaguely concerned. “Ya good?”
Atsumu nods slowly. “Jus’ hungover.”
“So,” Suna starts, “what exactly possessed you to start a karaoke battle with Sakusa last night?”
Atsumu groans. “Please, don’ refer ta last night in my presence,” he says.
“If it makes ya feel better, ya definitely won,” Osamu chimes in.
“Really?”
“No. Both of ya are losers fer partakin’ in somethin so lame ta begin with,” Osamu snarks.
Atsumu puts his head in his hands and sighs. He should have known better than to deliberately subject himself to this verbal abuse.
“Really, though, are ya okay?” Osamu says. “I mean, Sakusa was pretty harsh--”
“I’ll be fine,” says Atsumu, waving a hand. “I mean, it’s not like I live with him or anythin’,” he jokes.
Osamu grimaces. “At least ya have Hinata and Bokuto,” he says. “They’re pretty supportive, yeah?”
“Yeah, at least the two of them know what’s goin’ on,” Atsumu says.
“Wait,” says Suna, surprised. “You told Hinata?”
“He figured it out, kinda,” says Atsumu. “EQ’s through the roof. Honestly, it’s hard ta hide anythin’ from him these days, he’s so damn intuitive.”
“Yeah, he’s surprisingly observant,” Suna agrees. “Sucks playing against him, with his stupid fast reflexes and shit.”
Atsumu grins. “Yeah, we’re pretty unstoppable together, huh?” He boasts.
“I didn’t say that.”
Atsumu stays at Osamu’s for several more hours until Osamu reminds him that he has a place of his own and a bed that is not his living room couch. Atsumu complains profusely but leaves, equipped with several bags of onigiri to share with the team (minus Sakusa, because he doesn’t deserve it).
Returning to the sharehouse is odd, mostly because Atsumu’s not used to having been away from it for so long. Usually when he leaves it’s just to visit his family in Hyogo; a simple commute from one home to another. Osamu’s apartment is home-y, but it’s not home, not in the same way that the sharehouse has become.
Atsumu goes straight to his room, only swinging by the kitchen to leave the food in the fridge, and manages to avoid running into any of his housemates (Bokuto or Hinata he wouldn’t mind, but he’s not really in the mood to make conversation with Inunaki, and he certainly doesn’t want to encounter Sakusa before he’s mentally prepared).
It’s Sunday, and although the season’s technically over for the team, they still have practice in the morning, and a meeting that night to discuss the new schedule. Their practices will be changing starting soon to a single practice per day along with weight training in the evening.
Atsumu takes a quick shower and brushes his teeth before climbing into bed, wondering what he’ll say to Sakusa when he next speaks to him, and then wondering if he even has to. Would it really be so awful if they gave each other some space? God knows they both need it. At least, Atsumu does, and he thinks it’s safe to assume that Sakusa feels the same.
He doesn’t recall falling asleep the following morning, but he feels well rested, so he must have slept all right. Even when Atsumu’s not in an episode of some kind, good sleep is hard to come by. A lesser known symptom of being bipolar is having messed up circadian rhythms, and Atsumu has to consciously track his sleep patterns more often than not.
He heads downstairs around eight, finding Bokuto and Shouyou already up and making breakfast. Shouyou greets him with a massive hug and says, “Tsum-Tsum! I’m so glad you’re back!”
Atsumu smiles. “Me too, Shou-kun.”
“Eggs?” Offers Bokuto, and Atsumu nods quickly. He hadn’t eaten much the following day; he’d been too nauseous to consume anything but plain rice.
“So,” Shouyou starts, “do you want to talk about Friday? Because we don’t have to, if you don’t feel like it.”
“Thanks, Shou,” says Atsumu gratefully. “I don’ really mind talkin’ about it with ya, I jus’ didn’ feel like talkin’ to ‘Samu and Suna ‘cause I knew they’d be too nosy. I appreciate ya askin’, though.”
“‘Course,” says Shouyou.
“Are you feeling better today?” Says Bokuto.
Atsumu nods. “Much better. I was blamin’ myself a lot at first, but I know better than ta dwell on a loss like that.”
“Glad to hear it,” says Shouyou. “Besides, it’s not as if we all weren’t off our game.”
“Yeah,” Bokuto agrees, “we all played like shit. Omi had no right to pin that on you.”
“A team has six players,” Shouyou says wisely. Then he frowns. “Or I guess seven, if you’re counting the libero. Are we counting the libero?”
“Well, there’s only six on the court at one time,” Bokuto reasons, “so I guess we’re not counting the libero?”
Atsumu grimaces. “Don’ let Inunaki hear ya say tha--”
“Say what, exactly?” Inunaki interjects from directly behind Atsumu. Atsumu practically jumps out of his seat. “Jesus, Wan-san,” he says. “Couldja be, like, just a little less creepy fer once in yer goddamn life?”
“No,” says Inunaki casually. “What’re y’all talking about?”
“You,” says Shouyou just as Atsumu and Bokuto say, “Nothing.”
Inunaki’s eyes narrow. “I can’t tell which one of you to believe, but I’m gonna go with Shou-kun. Now, Shou-kun, what exactly were y’all saying about me?”
Shouyou gulps. “Just...that...uhh,” he tries.
Atsumu cuts in with, “We were talking about that cool save ya did in the second set. Ya know, the block receive? It was pretty sick!”
Inunaki gives him a scary smile. “If you were saying good things about me, then why did you try to cover it up?”
Damn, Atsumu thinks. Why are all liberos fucking terrifying?
“We, uh,” says Bokuto, “didn’t wanna give you a big head, that’s all.”
Inunaki still seems suspicious, but at least he doesn’t push further. “Whatever. Are y’all heading to practice soon?”
Atsumu checks the time on his phone and curses. “Now, I guess,” he says. The others scramble to grab their things, and they’re out the door within the next few minutes.
“Where’s Sakusa?” Inunaki wonders as they speedwalk to the gym.
Atsumu stiffens as Shouyou says, “I haven’t seen him. Have you, Bokkun?”
“Nah,” says Bokuto. “Must have gone in early or somethin’.”
“Hm,” says Inunaki. “Or he’s sick.”
Atsumu laughs incredulously. “Sakusa, sick? As if.”
“I mean, it happened to you,” Inunaki points out. “None of us are safe.”
Atsumu cringes inwardly. “Right.”
They arrive at the gym right on time and find that Sakusa is not, in fact, sick. Atsumu’s stomach swoops when he spots him standing beside Coach Foster. He tries not to look at him throughout warm ups and stretches, but then they end up paired up for passing drills because of course they do (it’s no one’s fault, really; Foster chose their pairings for them, and it’s not as if he knows any better).
“Hey,” he says casually as he tosses the ball to Sakusa, trying to pretend he’s not more anxious than he’s been all week. “Long time no see.”
Sakusa’s mouth actually twitches a bit as he returns the ball, and Atsumu relaxes a little. It’s just Omi, he reminds himself. We’ve recovered from worse. Probably.
“I assume you’re feeling better this week, then,” says Sakusa, and Atsumu nods. “Much better,” he says. “Jus’ needed some space, I guess.”
Sakusa nods as if he understands. Then he hesitates, catching the ball in one hand. “I--”
“Sakusa! Miya! Less talking, more passing!” Meian yells in their direction. Sakusa scowls. “Later,” he says to Atsumu, who just nods in response.
Practice is fairly easy today; they mostly work on basic drills, starting from the bottom up to ‘further strengthen their foundation’, as Coach Foster says. They pair up for stretches at the end, and Atsumu goes straight up to Sakusa, even though Shouyou and Bokuto both offer to pair with him instead.
“It’s okay,” he tells them both. “We need ta talk sooner or later, anyway.”
Atsumu and Sakusa stretch in tense silence for a few minutes. Atsumu’s not really sure where to start; he hesitates for a moment before saying, “So--”
“I was wrong,” Sakusa blurts, cutting him off. Then he says, “Sorry. I--you can talk.”
“It’s fine,” says Atsumu, waving a hand.
“Okay,” says Sakusa uncertainly. “I guess--look. I won’t apologize for that moronic karaoke battle you brought me into. And yes, I am aware that I fully enabled it, but you initiated it, and I know you had your reasons--”
“Ya think I’m upset about that?” Atsumu says incredulously. “I mean, it was pretty embarrassin’, and I’m pretty sure Suna filmed the whole thing, but--”
“Suna filmed that? Oh, god,” says Sakusa, paling.
“Don’ worry about that. He’s not gonna use it against ya, ” Atsumu clarifies. “Anyway, I’m not mad, okay? It was stupid. All of it.”
“Yeah,” says Sakusa, “but also, I was a dick. I--Motoya sort of...helped me realize that I shouldn’t make assumptions about your...reasons for overworking yourself, or whatever. I’m not asking you to explain yourself to me. You don’t owe me anything. But us losing, wasn’t your fault,” Sakusa finishes.
“No shit, it wasn’t,” Atsumu says. “I mean, I already knew that. But yeah, ya were a dick, and I hope ya understand if I’m not ready ta fully open up to ya yet. I dunno if I trust ya with--” he hesitates. “It’s complicated. I trust ya,” he says hurriedly. “I do. But there are some things I’m not ready ta get into yet. That’s all.”
Sakusa nods. “I understand. Like I said, you don’t owe me anything. I’ll try to be more understanding in the future.”
“Thanks, Omi,” says Atsumu softly.
“Sure.”
They finish stretching in silence. Most of the tension dissipates after their talk, but Atsumu’s not sure whether he’s entirely comfortable around Sakusa just yet. It’s not as if they were particularly close to begin with. Or maybe in a way they were; they’re both petty, ruthless, stubborn jerks who take pleasure in insulting their friends. They’re both blunt to a fault, though Sakusa’s more of an honest kind of blunt, whereas Atsumu is fully capable of lying when necessary (usually for selfish reasons, but still). Their primary differences lie in their habits; Atsumu possesses little to none of Sakusa’s cleanliness, and Sakusa’s quietly confident, while Atsumu verges on cocky, in the public eye at least. So, they’re not the same. They’re both well aware of that.
But in an odd sort of way, they might be the most similar personalities on the team.
It’s true that they’ve been grouped together often during practice, mostly because everyone else gets sick of dealing with them and their bickering. Atsumu secretly enjoys talking to Sakusa, probably more than he lets on. And sure, Sakusa’s kind of an asshole. Like, even more so than Atsumu. But he’s got a sense of humor that isn’t entirely awful, and a competitive streak that Atsumu can match.
He’s not terrible; really, he’s not. Even so, Atsumu hesitates to trust him with personal matters. He hesitates to trust most people, when it comes to his disorder. It’s not as if it’s some dirty secret. Atsumu’s long since stopped being ashamed of his neurodivergence. Still, Atsumu’s selective in who he chooses to tell, and Sakusa hasn’t yet earned his trust to the extent that is necessary in order for Atsumu to open up to him.
Once they’ve finished their stretches, Atsumu rejoins Bokuto and Shouyou as they head to the locker room. While they’re getting changed, Atsumu overhears Meian talking about his wife’s pregnancy. Apparently she’s about seven and a half months along now, and Meian is struggling to figure out what kind of clothing and toys to buy for the baby.
“I don’t have much experience with kids,” he admits bashfully. “I have some ideas of what to get for them, but not much beyond that, and Yua’s too busy with work to do the shopping herself.”
“What’s the gender?” Says Inunaki curiously.
“It’s a girl, but we’re trying to go with gender neutral options,” Meian explains. “It’s not as if she’s old enough to think about gender, but we’d rather have her grow up knowing that she can identify however she wants to, and the first step to doing that is ensuring that she doesn’t grow up thinking of toys and clothing as being associated with any particular gender.”
“That’s so cool!” Bokuto chimes in.
“Yeah, that’s not a bad idea,” Barnes says thoughtfully.
“That’s what I think,” says Meian. He sighs. “I just wish I knew more about what a newborn needs, you know?”
Without thinking, Atsumu blurts, “I could help ya shop, if ya want.”
The entire team turns to stare at him. “You--really?” Says Meian, surprised.
“Sure,” says Atsumu. “I mean, I have a few younger cousins that I used ta shop for with ‘Samu, even when they were just babies, so I have some idea of what yer kid might want.”
Meian’s face relaxes a tad. “Thanks, Atsumu,” he says. “That’s very kind of you. Would you like to come with me tomorrow after practice?”
“Sure!” Says Atsumu brightly. He loves shopping of any kind, but shopping for someone else, especially for something like this, feels extra special.
“Who knew Tsum-Tsum would be the one to know what to do,” Inunaki comments.
“Hey, I can be helpful sometimes!” Atsumu protests.
“Apparently,” mutters Adriah.
Sakusa’s looking at him funny, Atsumu notices. He’s standing next to his locker, bag in hand, but for some reason he hasn’t left just yet. His brow is wrinkled like he’s thinking about something, but then he seems to shake himself out of it. “See you guys tomorrow,” he offers the team before leaving.
After he’s gone, Inunaki turns to Atsumu. “I forgot to ask earlier, did you end up resolving whatever that whole thing was with Sakusa?”
“I think so,” says Atsumu. “I mean, we talked it out, and I think we’re fine now.”
“That’s good,” says Meian. “I was starting to worry.”
“Yeah, me too,” Atsumu admits. “I was startin’ ta wonder if he hated me fer a bit there.”
“I don’t think he could hate you,” Meian assures him.
“Yeah, you’re pretty hard to hate, ‘Tsumu!” Says Shouyou.
“Thanks, Shou-kun,” Atsumu acknowledges.
Meian hefts his bag onto his shoulder. “I’ll text you the details for tomorrow,” he says to Atsumu before he leaves.
Later that night, Atsumu receives a text from Meian that reads “ Meet at Tempozan Market Place around two?”
Atsumu replies “ Sure” before setting his phone on the nightstand. They don’t have practice this evening, just a meeting with Coach Foster, and there’s no evening practice at all for the rest of the week, so Meian and Atsumu will have plenty of time to shop tomorrow. Atsumu’s actually looking forward to getting to spend some time with his captain, and he starts compiling a list of items that he remembers his younger cousins needing when they were little.
He starts with clothing. Underwear won’t be necessary at this point, since the baby will be in diapers. He adds jumpers with snap bottoms to the list, along with soft pants, t-shirts, long sleeves, socks and a couple of sweaters. For toys he adds stuffed animals and building blocks. Legos are too small and a choking hazard, and pacifiers are habit-forming. Atsumu assumes that Meian will want to pick out the crib another day, along with blankets, but he adds a baby mobile to his mental list, since those are often overlooked.
Once he’s completed the list, he joins Shouyou and Bokuto in the kitchen for lunch. Shouyou’s making curry while Bokuto handles the rice, and Atsumu once again thanks the gods he has housemates that not only cook, but cook well (or at least Shouyou does).
Atsumu wonders if Sakusa can cook. He’s never seen him do it before, but then again Sakusa eats at odd hours, and often snacks in between meals. He orders a lot of takeout, Atsumu knows, so he can’t be all that great of a cook, but even so he usually doesn’t participate in their ‘family dinners’, as Shouyou refers to the rest of them eating together.
During lunch, Bokuto asks to see the list of baby items Atsumu made.
“Maybe add a coat to the list,” Shouyou suggests, peeking over Bokuto’s shoulder.
“Good idea,” Atsumu says, taking out a pen. He holds the cap in his teeth as he writes, a gross habit of his that Sakusa has complained about on more than one occasion.
Bokuto suggests adding a baby bottle and diapers, which Atsumu writes down along with teething toys and picture books (he knows the newborn baby won’t be anywhere near learning how to read, but he figures he might as well get them for Meian and Yua to read to her).
The three of them hang out in the living room, chatting and watching tv until it’s time to meet up with the team. They end up heading out at the same time as Inunaki, so the four of them walk to the gym together.
“What time do y’all think Foster will make the weight training sessions?” Inunaki asks them when they reach the locker room.
“Hopefully early evenin’,” says Atsumu. “I like actually bein’ able ta hang out at night, ya know?”
“You just want to be free so that you can go out and pick up chicks,” Inunaki comments.
“Why does everyone think that about me?” Atsumu complains. “I literally haven’t even tried ta date in years.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Inunaki says dubiously.
“Well, it’s true,” Atsumu snaps.
“What are we talking about? Atsumu’s nonexistent love life?” Adriah chimes in. Atsumu scowls. Sometimes he and Inunaki are a nightmarish combination.
“Nah, we were talkin’ bout yers,”Atsumu fires back.
“Who’s got time for dating during the season, anyway?” Says Barnes.
“Not me, that’s for sure,” says Shouyou, laughing nervously. Atsumu turns to him suspiciously and opens his mouth to interrogate him, but before he can Inunaki calls across the room, “How about you, Sakusa? Any hot ladies in your life?”
“No time,” says Sakusa, slamming his locker shut and exiting the locker room without another word.
“Seriously?” Bokuto scoffs. “‘Ladies’? Sakusa’s gotta be the gayest guy I know, and I’m friends with a bunch of gay people.”
Inunaki stares at him. “Sakusa’s gay?”
Adriah snorts. “You really are unobservant at times, Wan-san.”
“Shut up,” grumbles Inunaki. “We should get to the gym, it’s already five after.”
Shouyou yelps--he hates being late to anything--and races out of the locker room. The rest of them file out at a normal pace, taking seats on the floor when they reach the gym. Lucky for them, Coach Foster hasn't arrived just yet. He shows up several minutes later, holding a stack of papers.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says with a polite nod. “The copy machine was out of service, so I had to run to the print center down the street.”
He passes out the new schedule and goes over it with them briefly. Their new practice hours are 10-1 in the morning, and weight training from 5-6:30 in the evening. Atsumu’s just glad he’ll be able to sleep past eight for once.
After they’ve gone over the schedule, Foster reminds them that weight training doesn’t start until the following week, so they’ll have the evenings off. The team gives a collective cheer at that.
“Just don’t go out drinking every night, all right?” Says Foster, sounding resigned.
“No promises,” says Inunaki, and Meian whacks him on the arm.
The team breaks after that, starting an informal practice session led by Meian. Technically they were just supposed to have the meeting, but it’s hard for all of them to be in the gym without practicing. Atsumu practices serves with Inunaki until his arms are worn out, and he forces himself to take a break.
He finds Sakusa near the benches, sipping water and wiping off his sweaty arms. He glances up as Atsumu approaches and nods in greeting.
“Hey,” says Atsumu. “You working on serves, too?”
Sakusa shakes his head. “Receives,” he replies.
“Wanna receive some of my hybrids, then? Inunaki keeps makin’ fun of the ones I miss,” Atsumu complains.
“What makes you think I won’t?”
“Oh, you will,” says Atsumu, “it’s just more annoying coming from him.”
Sakusa nods. “I know what you mean. It’s like getting mocked by a yappy dog.”
“Exactly!”
They sip their water silently for a moment, and then Sakusa comments, “I’m glad to see you’re not overworking yourself.”
Atsumu chuckles. “Yeah, well, I’d like ta think I’m capable of learnin’ from my mistakes.” He doesn’t bother explaining that he’s actually capable of reigning himself in today, because that would lead to questions he’s not ready to answer.
“Good,” says Sakusa. “I guess even old dogs can learn new tricks.”
Atsumu sputters. “What’s that s’posed ta mean?”
Sakusa ignores him and gets to his feet. “C’mon,” he says, “I want to practice receives.”
Atsumu rolls his eyes but follows him anyway.
Practicing with Sakusa is brutal. Atsumu often forgets that he used to practice with Komori, who’s currently ranked as the #1 libero in the country. Sakusa’s a monster in his own right. They all are, really, but there’s something about Sakusa’s receives that makes Atsumu’s blood boil.
Still, Atsumu manages to get five service aces past him, and he can’t help but feel a little bit proud. He’s going up against a strong adversary, after all.
Practice is over before he knows it, and he goes to help Sakusa pick up the balls and put away the net. They head to the locker room together in semi-comfortable silence. Their relationship is still relatively tentative, but at least it’s there.
After they shower, Atsumu’s surprised to see Sakusa waiting in the locker room with Bokuto and Shouyou. He usually leaves the gym before the rest of them, not wanting to spend any more time in the gym than absolutely necessary.
“Hey,” Atsumu greets the others, shooting Sakusa a questioning glance.
“Hey hey hey!” Booms Bokuto. “We’re thinking of getting ramen for lunch, wanna join?”
“Sure!” Says Atsumu. “Can we swing by the house real quick so we can drop off our things?
“Yeah, no prob!” Says Bokuto cheerfully. As they start to walk, he asks Atsumu, “What time are you meeting up with Meian?”
“Two,” Atsumu replies.
“We should be good on time, then, since we left the gym so early,” Shouyou points out. It’s only noon now, which leaves Atsumu plenty of time to make it across town to Tempozan Market Place. It’s not the closest shopping center to their neighborhood, but it probably has the best selection of both clothing and toys.
The four of them find a ramen place about a half mile from the gym that none of them have tried yet. Once they’re seated with their orders, Shouyou and Bokuto start debating which meat is superior: chicken or beef edition. Bokuto is team beef, while Shouyou’s a strong supporter of chicken.
Sakusa slides a look at Atsumu. “Are they always like this,” he mutters.
Atsumu considers for a moment. “Pretty much, yeah,” he replies.
“What do you both think?” Bokuto says, turning suddenly to the two of them.
“Uh,” Atsumu balks. “I guess beef is probably easier ta make taste good. Needs less seasonin’ and all.”
Sakusa wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Chicken,” he says decisively. “It’s more versatile, and healthier overall.”
“‘Course ya care about that,” Atsumu says. “We didn’t ask which is better for ya, we asked which is better.”
“Same thing,” Sakusa says dismissively.
Atsumu gapes at him. “What do ya mean, ‘same thing’? Yer allowed ta enjoy the occasional less-than-healthy food, ya know.”
Sakusa shrugs. “I guess. I don’t really like going out of my comfort zone when it comes to food, though.”
“I get that,” Shouyou chimes in. “I was really scared to try Brazilian food for months after I moved there. I’m glad I did eventually, though, because it’s gwaaaah! Sooo good.”
“Yeah, Omi, maybe you should move to Brazil!” Says Bokuto brightly.
Sakusa stares at him. “I really never know whether or not you’re being serious,” he says.
Atsumu pats his shoulder without thinking. “None of us do, Omi-kun,” he says. Then he freezes, remembering that Sakusa doesn't like to be touched. Fuck.
For some reason, though, Sakusa doesn’t appear to notice the brief touch. Maybe he’s just getting used to our company, Atsumu thinks. After all, it’s not as if he has a total aversion to touch; it’s just with people he doesn’t trust, as far as Atsumu knows. He’s seen Komori touch Sakusa, at least, so it can’t be completely off limits.
After lunch, Atsumu parts ways with the group to go meet up with Meian. He arrives at the marketplace right at 2:00, and spots Meian almost instantly. He’s wearing an MSBY hoodie and jeans, and Atsumu realizes suddenly that he’s never seen him dressed so casually. He usually dresses up a bit when they go out--they all do, with the exception of Shouyou and Sakusa.
“Hello sir, do ya play fer the MSBY Black Jackals or somethin’?” Atsumu says in greeting. Meian turns to face him and grins. “No, I’m just a fan,” he jokes.
Atsumu smirks. “Super fan, more like.”
Meian laughs. “You could say that. Anyway, do you have any idea where to start? I don’t even know which store to begin with.”
“Well,” Atsumu starts, “Walmart and Target should have most of the basics, and the rest are pretty easy ta find online. I made a list,” he says proudly, pulling out the sheet of paper and passing it to Meian.
Meian actually looks impressed. “I didn’t even think about socks,” he realizes. “No shoes yet, though, right?”
Atsumu shakes his head. “Feet are too small,” he explains, “And ‘sides, it’s not as if they’ll be walkin yet, anyway.”
“I should hope not,” says Meian with no small amount of horror. “I’m not ready to be chasing after a newborn.”
Atsumu laughs. “Yeah, I think ya have a few years ta adjust ta fatherhood before that happens.”
Meian smiles. “Thanks for doing this, by the way. I really have no clue what I’m doing.”
“I can tell,” Atsumu teases. “C’mon, we can start at Target.”
The two of them head into the shopping center, checking the map to orient themselves before finding Target. Once they’re inside, Atsumu leads them to the baby clothes section. He’s extra glad he came when he realizes that Meian’s taste in baby clothes is horrible . Like, seriously bad. It’s funny, because the guy definitely knows how to dress himself, but he can’t figure out kids’ clothes for shit.
“How about this one?” He suggests to Atsumu now, holding up a garish neon orange-and-blue jumper.
Atsumu grimaces. “Uhhh. Maybe?” He tries.
Meian sighs. “See, this is why you’re here. I’m bad at this,” he says miserably.
“Ya know,” Atsumu says, “shopping fer clothes isn’t an integral part of parenthood. ‘Sides, ya got a wife with good style, an’ she’ll be able ta shop more in the future, right?”
“Right,” Meian agrees, brightening. “Thanks, Atsumu.”
They finish up at Target after picking up a few of everything on Atsumu’s list before moving on to Walmart. They find the diapers easily, as well as the baby bottle and teething toys. They don’t appear to have mobiles, so Atsumu suggests getting one online, and they decide to visit a bookstore for the picture books.
They find a bookstore down the street, sandwiched between a car wash and a cafe, and Atsumu shows Meian the picture books he remembers loving as a child. “My parents used ta read this one ta me every night,” he says, handing Meian a copy of Madeline . “I thought Madeline was so cool, I made them write ‘ Happy Birthday Madeline ’ on my third birthday cake. Osamu was mad he didn’ think of it first,” he recalls fondly.
Meian smiles. “That’s pretty cute,” he says. He ends up buying Madeline, along with several other picture books, before the two of them decide they’ve had enough of shopping for the day.
“Let me treat you to coffee,” Meian insists when they pass the cafe. “It’s the least I can do to repay you.”
“Sure,” Atsumu replies. He’ll never say no to a free coffee.
Atsumu and Meian both take their coffee black, and they find a cozy table in the corner of the cafe to sit.
“So,” Meian says once they’re seated, “you seem to be doing much better this week.”
“Yeah,” says Atsumu, “I am. I mean, the moods come an’ go, and they can be pretty hard ta predict, but they’ve been evenin’ out over time since I started the meds.”
“Do you see a therapist as well as a psychiatrist?” Meian asks.
Atsumu shakes his head. “I know I should,” he admits. “It’s jus’ hard ta find a good one that takes my insurance, ya know?”
“I get that,” says Meian. “My wife is seeing one right now, actually. She’s gotten pretty hormonal with the pregnancy and all, and experiences mood swings on a smaller scale than yours. Still, she’s covered by our insurance, too. I could see if there are any other therapists available at the agency she’s using,” Meian suggests.
“That’d be great, thanks!” Says Atsumu.
“Sure. Speaking of, have you considered speaking with the rest of the team about your situation?” Says Meian.
Atsumu hesitates. “I’ve thought about it,” he says carefully. “I jus’ don’t know if I’m ready yet.”
Meian nods. “No worries,” he says. “Take all the time you need.”
“Thank ya,” says Atsumu. “I do want ta tell them, when I’m ready. If only ta prevent…” he hesitates. “...misunderstandin’s an’ such in the future.”
“Ah,” says Meian knowingly. “Yeah, that fight with Sakusa was pretty nasty, wasn’t it?”
Atsumu nods. “Ta be fair, he’s entirely ignorant regardin’ the whole situation,” he says. “It’s not really his fault that he doesn’t know shit. I jus’ wish…” Atsumu sighs. “I wish he’d trusted me when I told him I was doin’ my best.”
“I don’t think Sakusa trusts people easily,” Meian muses. “Honestly, he probably trusts you more than the rest of us.”
“Ya think?” Says Atsumu skeptically.
“Sure. Bokuto and Hinata too,” Meian adds. “He might not always--ever--show it, but I think Sakusa’s glad to be a part of your generation.”
Atsumu hums. “Yeah, he could prob’ly stand ta tell us that more, but I believe ya,” he says honestly. There have been times when Sakusa’s shown his appreciation for his housemates. He’s bought them food before without asking them to pay him back, and sometimes he even helps Shouyou reach the rice that’s stored on the top shelf of the cabinet. He’s surprisingly considerate at times, and Atsumu likes to think it’s because he actually enjoys their company.
“Anyway,” says Meian, “don’t worry about telling the team just yet. But if you ever need to talk, let me know, okay? Foster and I--and Bokuto and Shouyou, I’m sure--are all here for you, should you ever need us.”
Atsumu blinks, feeling a lump form in his throat. “Thanks, cap,” he says.
They part ways soon after, Meian thanking Atsumu profusely for his help and Atsumu assuring him that it was no trouble. He had fun, after all. Atsumu’s never really wanted kids of his own, but he certainly enjoys being the fun uncle-type.
When he returns to the sharehouse, he finds Bokuto and Inunaki in the living room. “Hey,” he says with a relaxed smile.
“Shopping with Meian went well, I’m assuming,” Inunaki observes.
“Yeah, turns out I’m pretty good at helpin’ when I feel like it,” Atsumu brags.
“If only that happened more often,” Inunaki laments.
“I think you’re plenty helpful, Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto says brightly.
“Thanks, Bokkun!”
Inunaki rolls his eyes and changes the subject. “Did you see the email from Foster?”
“Nah,” says Atsumu. “What’s it say?”
“You can’t just check it yourself?” Says Inunaki.
“Why would I do that when I have ya both here ta tell me?” Replies Atsumu.
“Lazy ass,” mutters Inunaki. “Fine. It basically just details the end-of-season celebration this Friday.”
“Oh, right,” says Atsumu. “We goin’ out or somethin?’
“Yeah, to some sushi bar and then a club, I think,” says Inunaki. “Check the email if you wanna know more.”
“Is Omi gonna be okay with the whole club bit?” Atsumu wonders.
“Probably not, but what are we supposed to do, cater to his every need?” Says Inunaki bluntly.
“I mean, we could at least try--”
“He told me he could manage it for one night, Tsum-Tsum,” Bokuto interrupts. “So I think he’ll be fine. It’s nice that you’re concerned, though.”
Atsumu shrugs. “I’d want my teammates to be considerate of that, if I were him,” he says carefully.
Inunaki snorts. “Good thing you’re not,” he comments. “It’s not like we have to accommodate you as you are now.”
Atsumu tenses, but says nothing. He doesn’t know, he reminds himself.
Bokuto breaks in then. “Tsum-Tsum, wanna make dinner with me tonight?”
“You mean supervise you to make sure you don’t burn down the entire kitchen? Sure,” says Atsumu.
Bokuto scowls. “I set the kitchen on fire once and y’all can’t let it go?”
“Do you even hear yourself?” Inunaki says incredulously.
“Not really, no,” Bokuto says honestly.
Atsumu swings by his room to drop off his bag and change into sweats before returning to the living room. He chats with Bokuto and Inunaki for a bit before Inunaki excuses himself to go take a shower, leaving Atsumu with Bokuto.
“Ya ready ta cook?” He says, and Bokuto nods enthusiastically. “I was thinking we could try to make agedashi tofu!” He says.
“That sounds good,” Atsumu agrees.
He helps Bokuto get the kitchen set up before getting out the ingredients. He does most of the work in the end, Bokuto mainly reading the recipe off to him. He’s not particularly good at that, either; he keeps getting ‘tablespoon’ and ‘teaspoon’ mixed up, so Atsumu adds the wrong measurements several times. Still, the dish smells pretty good, so Atsumu supposes it’ll be fine.
They finish cooking around six, and set the table for five.
“Is Omi joining us?” Says Atsumu curiously.
Bokuto shrugs. “Not sure, but I figured we may as well make him feel welcome.”
Shouyou comes downstairs around 6:30--he’d been napping on and off since practice, apparently--and Inunaki joins them soon after. Just as they’re sitting down to eat, Sakusa strolls into the dining room.
“Omi!” Cheers Bokuto. “We made dinner and it’s not burnt! Want to join?”
Sakusa hesitates. “What is it?”
“Agedashi tofu,” says Atsumu. “We were super hygienic, I promise,” he adds.
After a pause, Sakusa nods. “All right,” he says. He’s not wearing his mask--he’s long since given up on wearing it inside the sharehouse--so Atsumu can see the apprehension twisting his mouth. He takes the seat beside Inunaki and serves up some tofu.
Atsumu tries not to stare as Sakusa takes a bite and chews. After he swallows, he says to Bokuto, “Congratulations. You made something edible.”
Bokuto beams. “Thanks!” He says. “Tsum-Tsum did most of the work, though.”
Sakusa looks at Atsumu, seeming surprised. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
Atsumu huffs. “I mean, I couldn’t exactly grow up with ‘Samu without learnin’ a few tricks,” he says in explanation. Sakusa nods as if that makes sense before turning back to his meal.
“Omi-san,” Shouyou pipes up, “Are you looking forward to the end-of-season celebration?”
Sakusa picks at his food. “Not really, but I suppose the dinner part will be fine,” he says.
“Ohh, right,” says Shouyou. “I guess you’re not a huge fan of clubs, huh?”
“Not particularly,” says Sakusa with a barely repressed grimace.
“Don’ worry, Omi-kun!” Says Atsumu. “We’ll protect ya from all those nasty germs!”
Sakusa raises a brow. “What are you going to do, verbally abuse them?”
Atsumu scowls. “I’ll intimidate them with my cool exterior, same as I do with anyone I don’ like!” He says.
“Uh, I think you’re confusing yourself with Sakusa,” Inunaki chimes in. “You are not, and have never been, cool.”
“I don’t know, I think you’re pretty cool, Tsum-Tsum!” Says Bokuto.
“That’s cause ya have taste, Bokkun,” says Atsumu, tapping his temple.
Sakusa snorts.
“What? Don’tcha think I’m cool, Omi?” Atsumu demands.
“I think you’re too genuine to be cool,” says Sakusa.
Atsumu frowns. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Huh. Didja jus’ compliment me, Omi-kun?” Teases Atsumu.
“No. I would never intentionally compliment you, Miya.”
Atsumu scowls into his tofu as Inunaki cackles, but he feels better than he has in a long time. As he glances around the table, he takes a moment to appreciate the people he’s grown so close to, and he wonders if Meian is right. Maybe it’s time to tell the others what’s really going on. Atsumu knows he doesn’t actually owe them an explanation, but he wants his team to know him, and his illness is just as much a part of him as the rest of his personality.
Soon, Atsumu promises himself. I’ll tell them soon.
Notes:
Is Sakusa...becoming...self-aware?
Fun fact: I made my parents write ‘Happy Birthday Madeline’ on MY third birthday cake. I really just be projecting onto Atsumu, huh?
Hope y'all had a fun, safe Halloween! Next chapter should be up soon
<3
Chapter Text
Kiyoomi wraps a towel around the handle of his espresso pot and pours himself a steaming mug. He used to have a nice espresso pot, one with a rubber-covered handle that didn’t attempt to burn the skin off his hand every time he touched it, but the interior was really hard to keep clean and eventually began growing mold, to Kiyoomi’s dismay. Now he has the cheap IKEA version instead, and his favorite tea towel is permanently coffee-stained as a result.
Bokuto and Hinata are playing video games in the living room. Kiyoomi knows this because they’ve been shouting at each other over the sound of corny video game music since seven AM, which was, coincidentally, when Kiyoomi woke up. If he weren’t so tired he would actually consider taking drastic measures, such as unplugging their game system or leaving the country. The former probably makes more sense, but Kiyoomi’s starting to think the latter has its own appeal.
It’s Friday, which means that the Jackals will be celebrating the end of their season later that night. Kiyoomi’s actually looking forward to the first part of the evening, which entails a sushi bar and quality time with the team. Seeing as Kiyoomi’s been spending an absurd amount of time with his teammates of late, he has no issue with those plans.
He is not, however, looking forward to the club they plan on attending after dinner. Kiyoomi did some research and found that it’s not a particularly rowdy spot; in fact, its website portrays it to be fairly tame, overall. Still, Kiyoomi avoids clubs as a general rule. There are many reasons for this, including (but not limited to) the crushing crowds, obnoxious drunks, and general lack of hygiene.
Still, Atsumu, Hinata and Bokuto have promised him multiple times that they’ll ‘keep him safe’, whatever that means.
For better or for worse, Kiyoomi trusts them.
Inunaki wanders into the kitchen just as Kiyoomi’s finishing his coffee and nods in greeting. His hair is sticking up in sections and his eyes are sleepy, like he’d only just pulled himself out of bed. Foster had given them the day off, so Kiyoomi’s surprised he didn’t decide to sleep until noon.
“Have you seen Atsumu?” Inunaki asks Kiyoomi.
“No,” Kiyoomi replies. “Still sleeping, maybe?”
Inunaki snorts. “I doubt it,” he says. “That man has never slept late in his life.”
It’s true that usually Atsumu is the first one up, apart from Hinata. Hinata meditates in the morning, while Atsumu prefers to run.
“Yo, either of you seen ‘Tsumu this morning?” Inunaki yells into the living room. The sound of fake gunshots and music pauses momentarily as Bokuto hollers back, “He said last night that he was going to help Osamu with the opening shift!”
“Ah, okay,” Inunaki responds. The video game sounds resume, and Kiyoomi exchanges a glance with Inunaki. “How long have they been at this?” Inunaki says.
“Who knows,” Kiyoomi replies. “At least an hour, but probably longer, if their energy level is any indication.”
“Oh, jeez.”
“Yeah.”
They’re silent for a moment, and then Inunaki says, “Well, I’m gonna go watch tv in my room until they’re done gaming.”
“That might be a while,” Kiyoomi warns.
“I’m willing to take my chances. See you later, though. Don’t forget about our plans!” Inunaki reminds him.
“How could I forget,” Kiyoomi deadpans, and Inunaki snickers. “That’s the spirit.” He goes back upstairs, leaving Kiyoomi in the kitchen with the cold dregs of his coffee and a feeling of foreboding.
The rest of the morning passes quickly. Kiyoomi tidies his room and does a bit of reading, and ends up eating lunch with Hinata, Bokuto and Atsumu, who returns from Onigiri Miya around 1:30 PM bearing food and complaints about his brother.
“Y’all won’t believe what he said ta me today,” Atsumu rants as they sit down to eat.
“What’d he say?” Says Bokuto eagerly.
“He said my onigiris were ‘shaped like pickles’ and my customer service skills are ‘severely stunted’!” Atsumu complains. “What does that even mean?”
“Probably that your restaurant skills suck,” Kiyoomi comments without thinking.
Atsumu scowls at him, but it lacks the heat it once held. “ Your restaurant skills suck,” he grumbles in response.
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
At three, Inunaki joins them in the living room ‘to pregame’. Bokuto and Inunaki are pregaming, anyway. Hinata seldom drinks these days, and Atsumu and Kiyoomi possess a modicum of taste, or at least enough that they don’t intend to start drinking until five PM at the earliest.
Inunaki and Bokuto suggest a game of truth or dare. Kiyoomi and Hinata politely decline, while Atsumu hesitates before saying, “Sure, why not?”
Why not indeed.
Before too long, it devolves into a game of dares. It’s almost as if their fragile masculinity (this is an exaggeration, Kiyoomi is well aware that Bokuto and Atsumu at the very least are quite secure in their masculinity) can’t comprehend the concept of a truth being anywhere near as cool as a dare.
“Bokuto, truth or dare,” Inunaki slurs. Somehow he’s already unsteady on his feet; Kiyoomi thinks it probably has something to do with his body size, because it certainly has nothing to do with his tolerance.
“Dare,” says Bokuto, surprisingly coherent.
“I dare you…” Inunaki pauses to think. “I dare you to take a shot of chili sauce!”
“Very original,” Kiyoomi mutters under his breath.
Bokuto proceeds to the kitchen and pours himself a shot of chili sauce, downing it almost immediately. He smacks his lips after swallowing. “That wasn’t so bad!”
“Are you serious?” Says Inunaki incredulously. “What are you?”
Bokuto dares Atsumu to dial a random number and leave an extremely detailed message about something personal. Then Bokuto and Atsumu dare Inunaki to follow someone he thinks is hot on Instagram (Inunaki actually curses them out for that one).
Now it’s Bokuto’s turn.
“Bokuto,” Atsumu starts. He frowns. “I dare you…” His eyes light up suddenly.
Uh oh.
“ I dare you to prank Akaashi,” Atsumu says decisively.
Bokuto looks uncertain. “How, though?”
“You should make him think that someone is stalking you,” Inunaki suggests deviously.
“Ooh, good one, Inunaki,” says Atsumu. Kiyoomi wonders if he should put a stop to this before it ends with them being murdered in their sleep. Then again, he doubts the three of them could be dissuaded at this point.
“Doesn’t he have all of our numbers, though?” Hinata points out.
“Not mine,” Inunaki says, eyes gleaming.”I’ll just send him some candids of Bokuto, I have a few pictures where he’s lingering in the background that I can zoom in on.”
“Nice,” says Atsumu appreciatively.
“Are you sure about this?” Bokuto says, sounding mildly concerned.
“Sure,” says Inunaki. “I mean, it’s not as if he’ll actually buy it, right?”
Inunaki, Kiyoomi decides, is like the devil on your shoulder. And unfortunately for Bokuto, there’s not an angel in sight.
“Okay, sure,” Bokuto decides, and the others cheer.
“Okay,” says Inunaki. “What’s his number?”
Bokuto rattles it off as Inunaki types into his phone, attaching a picture of Bokuto taken after one of their games. In the picture, Bokuto’s clearly not paying attention to whoever’s watching from afar. The setup is sufficiently creepy, Kiyoomi observes. He almost feels bad, but not quite bad enough not to peer over Inunaki’s shoulder with the others.
Inunaki gets a response soon after.
‘ Who is this?’
Inunaki pauses. “What should I say?”
“How about Joe Biden?” Hinata suggests, giggling.
“Why?” Kiyoomi wonders, before realizing it’s not important. “You know what? Nevermind.”
Inunaki considers Hinata’s suggestion for a moment before typing, ‘ Joe by den?’
“Perfect,” Atsumu says, chortling.
“I don’t get it,” says Bokuto, confused.
“I don’t think there’s anything to get,” Kiyoomi assures him.
Inunaki attaches a second photo of Bokuto, this one taken from above. He’s standing next to a random stranger on the sidewalk, and Kiyoomi can vaguely tell that the photo is taken out the window of Inunaki’s room.
“Why do you have that?” Bokuto says, sounding mildly disturbed.
Inunaki shrugs. “I have them of all of you. You know, just in case I catch y’all doing something stupid, for blackmailing purposes.”
“Scary,” murmurs Hinata, eyes wide.
“Terrifying,” Kiyoomi agrees. He makes a mental note never to get on Inunaki’s bad side.
Akaashi responds after a moment. The text reads, ‘ Who’s the other guy in the pic?’
Inunaki barely has to think this time. He types, ‘ he had good posture’. He attaches another picture of Bokuto, this one taken from a distance but zoomed in so far that the quality is terribly pixelated.
This time Akaashi responds instantly. ‘ Seriously, who is this and how did you get my number?’
Inunaki hesitates before typing, ‘ joe bye din’.
The next message comes after a few minutes and reads, ‘ tell me who you are before I alert the authorities.’
“Damn, he’s scary when he wants ta be,” Atsumu says, eyes wide, and Kiyoomi has to agree.
“What do we do now?” Says Hinata.
“We call him, obviously,” Inunaki says matter of factly.
“What makes you think he’ll pick up?” Says Kiyoomi skeptically.
“Why don’tcha try facetime instead? Ya know, so he can see ya,” Atsumu suggests.
Inunaki points at him. “Yes,” he says. He presses the facetime button and holds the phone so that all of them are visible. Kiyoomi quickly scoots out of view, wanting no part in this.
Akaashi picks up on the second ring. His expression is concerned, quickly morphing into one of confusion and then fury when he recognizes Inunaki. Then he scans the others.
“You’re all dead,” he tells them flatly before hanging up.
Bokuto looks as if he’s seen a ghost. “Shit,” he says frantically. “Kaashi’s gonna kill me.”
“You’ll be fine,” Inunaki assures him. “I, on the other hand, am dead meat.”
“We’re all dead meat,” says Atsumu, looking pale.
“Not me,” says Kiyoomi smugly. “I wasn’t here.”
“Ya--yes ya were!” Sputters Atsumu. “I’ll tell him ya were.”
“Oh, yeah? And who do you think he’ll believe?” Says Kiyoomi.
Something like admiration flashes in Atsumu’s eyes. “Yer evil,” he says, as if he’s only just realized.
“I thought you knew that,” says Inunaki. “ I did.”
“Right, because like recognizes like, right?” Atsumu quips, and Kiyoomi almost laughs.
Inunaki scowls. “Careful, or you’ll be the next one on the tail end of a prank.”
“I grew up with ‘Samu, I ain’t afraid of ya!”
“Should we start getting ready to go soon?” Hinata chimes in. “It’s almost 5:30.”
“Shit,” says Atsumu, scrambling to his feet. “I gotta get dressed.”
“It takes you a whole half hour to get dressed?” Kiyoomi says skeptically.
“I gotta look nice! Why, don’tcha want ta?”
“Not particularly,” says Kiyoomi honestly.
“Right, because unlike some of us, Sakusa doesn’t care about picking up chicks,” Inunaki retorts. “Or dudes,” he adds belatedly.
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “I don’t think any of us care apart from you, Inunaki.”
“Atsumu cares!” Inunaki protests.
“Not really,” says Atsumu casually. “I dunno why everyone thinks that.”
“It’s because you’re a shameless flirt,” Bokuto says, and Hinata nods his agreement.
“I don’ flirt! Not consciously, anyway,” Atsumu argues.
“Whatever you say, Tsum-Tsum,” says Bokuto, not sounding as if he believes him in the slightest.
Atsumu scowls. “Whatever. I’ll meet y’all down here at 6, okay?”
“Sure,” says Inunaki. The group splits up to get ready, except for Hinata and Kiyoomi, who remain seated on the couch.
“So I suppose you don’t plan on ‘picking up chicks’ tonight either?” Kiyoomi says dryly to Hinata, making finger quotes.
“Nah,” says Hinata dismissively. “Not really my thing.”
“Are you seeing someone?” Kiyoomi says curiously.
Hinata hesitates. “Sort of,” he says slowly. “It’s complicated.”
Kiyoomi nods, not pressing any further. Unlike most of the people in this household, he knows when something’s none of his business.
At 6, the five of them gather in the living room, donning jackets and scarves. It’s still early March, after all. Once they’re all ready to leave, Bokuto forces them all to take a shot of vodka, to ‘warm them up’. Kiyoomi obliges, only because he already plans on getting drunk tonight; why not start now?
They leave closer to 6:10, but the restaurant’s only about a twenty minute walk away, so they end up arriving right on time. Kiyoomi’s chilled from the cold night air but at least he has his mask to keep his face warm, and he almost dreads the moment he’ll have to take it off in order to eat.
Meian orders a variety of dishes and drinks for the table, telling the team it’s on Coach Foster as an end-of-season gift. Kiyoomi sips his beer and slowly begins to warm from the inside out. He’s seated between Atsumu and Inunaki, and normally he’d mind their close proximity, but his head’s starting to feel wonderfully light, and he finds he doesn’t notice their occasional accidental brushes the way he usually would. He leaves his mask off throughout dinner, and ends up keeping it in his pocket even after they finish eating.
By the time they leave the restaurant, he’s decently tipsy, and he doesn’t even realize his mask has stayed in his pocket for the entire time they’ve been outside until they’re standing in line to get into the club, a true testament to the trust he’s begun to feel for his teammates.
He hesitates when they enter the bar, wondering if he should put his mask back on, but decides against it. He’ll only have to take it off to drink, anyway. What’s the harm in not wearing one for a couple of hours?
The team finds a table near the back of the bar, in a quieter area, to Kiyoomi’s relief. The music isn’t particularly loud and the bar isn’t at full capacity, but even so Kiyoomi finds himself just the slightest bit nervous.
Hinata notices, because apparently he has the emotional intelligence of a mother (not Kiyoomi’s mother, but the kind of mother Kiyoomi’s always read about in novels). He hangs back with Kiyoomi and says, quietly, “Are you gonna be all right?”
Kiyoomi just nods, mouth dry. “I just need some time to acclimate,” he explains softly.
“Okay,” says Hinata. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will,” Kiyoomi promises.
They slide into the semi-circular booth, Kiyoomi once again finding himself beside Atsumu, with Hinata on his other side. Being next to Atsumu can be overwhelming, but right now it’s sort of nice, because it takes the attention off of Kiyoomi. It reminds him of all of the interviews they’ve done together, the ones in which Atsumu draws all of the attention so that Kiyoomi can catch a break. Not for the first time, Kiyoomi wonders if it’s intentional.
Meian orders a round of drinks for the table to get them started. Kiyoomi requests a vodka tonic--vodka’s generally the only form of hard alcohol he can stomach--while the rest of the table goes in on a round of shots, with the exception of Adriah and Barnes, who stick with beer and whisky respectively.
Two drinks later, Kiyoomi’s past the threshold of tipsy and well on his way to being drunk. He takes pride in his alcohol tolerance, but even he’s not immune to the power of copious amounts of liquor.
“Omi-kun,” Atsumu slurs now, “take a shot with us! We’re doin’ tequila,” he adds excitedly.
Kiyoomi wrinkles his nose. He hates tequila with a burning passion. “No thanks,” he says firmly.
“C’mon, Omi,” Bokuto whines. “Just one shot!” He makes puppy dog eyes at Kiyoomi, which is not nearly as cute as he believes it to be.
“I’ll take one ,” Kiyoomi emphasizes, “If you promise never to make that face again.”
Bokuto pouts. “What’s wrong with my face?”
“Nothing, Bokkun,” Atsumu says hurriedly, shooting a glance at Kiyoomi.
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he says. “Just make it quick.”
“On it!” Says Bokuto with an exaggerated salute. He orders a round for the four of them, and the waitress brings it over shortly after. Kiyoomi takes a shot glass, foregoing the salt and lime--he really never did understand that ritual, it only makes it taste worse anyway--and downs it before the others have even picked up their glasses.
“Damn, Omi,” says Atsumu, no small amount of admiration in his voice. “Fer someone who hates tequila, ya took that like a pro.”
“I never said I hated tequila,” says Kiyoomi suspiciously.
“I mean, it’s pretty obvious, I’d say,” Atsumu replies.
“Yeah, Omi, you’re pretty obvious when you dislike something,” Bokuto chimes in after downing his shot. “I mean, you don’t like germs, crowds, tequila, my cooking, bad receives, Atsumu--”
“Hey!” Says Atsumu indignantly.
“To be fair,” says Hinata, “who here does like bad receives?”
“Inunaki does,” says Atsumu. “He likes ta make fun of ‘em.”
“Anyway,” Bokuto continues, “Omi’s dislikes are easy. Likes, not so much.”
“Yer kiddin’,” says Atsumu incredulously. “Those are easy! Omi-kun likes umeboshi, almost any sour food, competin’ in service aces, cats even though he’s allergic, the color orange, horror movies but also rom-coms, non-fiction books with the occasional sci-fi thrown in, ridiculously ugly neon clothing--”
“I think that’s enough,” Kiyoomi cuts him off, glaring.
Atsumu looks smug. “I’m not wrong, though, am I?”
“Wow, ‘Tsumu!” Chimes Hinata. “You really pay attention!”
“I pay attention ta all my spikers, Shou-kun,” says Atsumu, as if it’s obvious. “‘S my job.”
“Ooh! Ooh! Do me next!” Says Bokuto excitedly.
“All right,” says Atsumu. “Ya like barbecue, the color blue but also gold ‘cause it means ya won, any kinda fruit, Akaashi Keiji, stuffed animals but especially owls, owls in general, abstract paintin’s cause ya always say ya could replicate them if ya tried, and cacti, fer some fuckin’ reason. Shou likes any sport requirin’ speed an’ stamina, especially swimmin’ cause he loves the water, also the beach, Kageyama Tobio even though he says they’re rivals, the color purple but also red and green and yellow and honestly every time ya tell me there’s another color added on, any kinda house plant, dogs but especially puppies, and spa days.”
Bokuto whistles. “Damn, Tsum-Tsum!”
“That was so cool!” Exclaims Hinata.
Even Kiyoomi is a bit impressed. “You’re more attentive than I gave you credit for,” he acknowledges.
Atsumu grins smugly, but his eyes are soft. “Thanks, Omi-Omi.”
“I think we should get another round of shots,” Hinata declares. “Who’s in?”
“I am!” Announces Bokuto.
“Me, too,” says Atsumu. They all look at Kiyoomi. “Whatcha say, Omi-kun?”
Kiyoomi sighs. Fuck it. “Count me in.”
The others cheer, and Bokuto heads to the bar to grab the next round.
Kiyoomi cuts himself off two more rounds. The lights in the bar are just starting to halo, and his head is fuzzy and warm. Also, he really has to pee.
“I’ll be back,” he announces before stumbling out of the booth.
The bathroom is easy to find, and surprisingly clean, which Kiyoomi appreciates. He checks himself out in the mirror as he washes his hands, and hardly recognizes the man staring back at him. His cheeks are flushed and his face is fully visible, a rare occurrence for Kiyoomi. He looks good. He looks happy.
He exits the restroom, feeling his way along the wall of the dimly lit hallway back to the bar. He turns the corner, and that’s when it happens.
He bumps straight into a stranger, some guy around his age. The man’s beer tips over and spills all down Kiyoomi’s front. Kiyoomi freezes.
The man leers at Kiyoomi. “You’re pretty,” he says. “Want some help cleaning up?”
Kiyoomi’s in shock. He feels disgusting; not only are there germs covering his clothing and seeping into his skin, but the man they belong to is an absolute pig.
Not knowing what else to do, Kiyoomi turns away and runs back to the bathroom, ignoring the man shouting after him. He shoves the door open so hard it slams into the wall and rushes to the sink, grabbing paper towels before dabbing wildly at his clothes. It’s no use; his shirt is soaked, and the contaminated beer is already touching his skin. Kiyoomi’s breath goes quick and his heart pounds. He’s tainted. He’s disgusting and he’s going to be sick--
“Omi?” Says a voice from behind him. Kiyoomi whips around and stares at Atsumu. He’s standing in the doorway, looking concerned. “Are ya okay?”
Kiyoomi shakes his head, trembling. Atsumu’s at his side in an instant. “Hey,” he says softly, “it’s okay. You’re not going to get sick from this.”
He’s wrong. Kiyoomi’s already sick, he knows he is. He sinks slowly to the floor, and Atsumu follows him down. “Can I touch ya?” He says gently. Kiyoomi shakes his head. His breath is stuck in his throat, and he chokes on air.
“Kiyoomi,” Atsumu says urgently, “I needja ta breathe with me, okay?”
Kiyoomi tries to nod, but he’s frozen.
“Ready?” Atsumu says. He takes a loud, deep breath in, and Kiyoomi tries to copy his movements, the slow rise and fall of his chest.
“Good,” says Atsumu as he exhales. “Again.”
They breathe together for several minutes, and Kiyoomi begins to feel the air return to his lungs. He feels exhausted, but calmer than before. After another minute or two, he’s breathing steadily.
“Yer doin’ great, Omi,” Atsumu coaxes. “Do ya feel any better?”
Kiyoomi nods. He croaks, “How did you know what to do?”
Atsumu smiles bitterly. “I’ve had ‘em before, too. ‘Samu used ta help me that way. Eventually I learned how ta do it, too.”
“Oh,” breathes Kiyoomi. He wants to ask him why, but he doesn’t know how.
“Anyway,” Atsumu continues, “are ya ready ta leave?”
Kiyoomi nods. “I want to go home.”
“I know.” Atsumu pauses, and then he says, “Can I touch ya?”
This time Kiyoomi says, “Yes.” Atsumu carefully takes Kiyoomi’s arms and pulls him to his feet, allowing Kiyoomi to lean on him. It can’t be comfortable for him, but Atsumu doesn’t complain, not even in that joking way of his.
He leads Kiyoomi out of the bathroom and back to the table. Kiyoomi sees no sign of the man who had harassed him before, and thank god for that, because if he did he’s not sure he could keep it together.
When they reach the table, only Hinata and Bokuto remain seated. The rest of the team must have migrated to the dance floor; they’d been slowly filtering out of the booth for the past hour or so.
Bokuto spots them first, and a look of concern crosses his face. “Are you okay?” He says worriedly. Hinata turns to look at that, and blanches when he sees Atsumu holding up Kiyoomi.
“Omi needs ta go home,” Atsumu explains. Kiyoomi’s grateful that he doesn’t elaborate.
“We’ll come with,” Hinata says instantly.
“Are ya sure?” Says Atsumu. “Ya don’ have ta--”
Bokuto waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’ll call us a car.”
The four of them migrate outside, and the fresh air clears Kiyoomi’ head. He still feels disgusting, his clothes clinging to his body and reeking of sweat and beer, but at least he can breathe.
He could probably stand on his own if he tried, but he doesn’t. Instead he clings to Atsumu, letting him bear most of Kiyoomi’s weight. Atsumu doesn’t say anything; he holds Kiyoomi up silently, and when the car arrives he helps him slide into the backseat.
When they arrive at the sharehouse, Atsumu walks him to his room. He pauses at Kiyoomi’s door and looks at Kiyoomi. “Are ya gonna be okay?” He says uncertainly.
Kiyoomi nods slowly. “I’ll be fine,” he says. Atsumu doesn’t look convinced. “Really,” Kiyoomi insists.
Atsumu hesitates. “Okay,” he says, releasing Kiyoomi gently. “Jus’ text me if ya need anythin’, all right?”
“Okay,” says Kiyoomi. Atsumu turns to go, and Kiyoomi opens the door to his room. Then he turns back. “Atsumu?”
Atsumu turns around, surprised. “Yeah?”
“Thank you,” Kiyoomi says sincerely.
Atsumu smiles crookedly. “‘Course. I take care of my spikers, remember?”
Kiyoomi smiles back. “I know.” He turns and enters his room, shutting the door softly behind him. He shucks off his soiled shirt right there in the entryway and tosses it in the laundry basket, making a note to do laundry tomorrow. He takes a long, thorough shower and brushes his teeth twice before finally tucking himself into bed.
When he wakes in the morning, he feels fine apart from the slight hangover that lingers throughout the morning. He takes a painkiller or two and re-hydrates, only leaving his room around noon when he finally gains an appetite. He has plans with Motoya today around two--since EJP’s season is over as well, he’s been traveling between Nagano and Tokyo regularly. He had mentioned to Kiyoomi that he’d accompanied Suna to Osaka; he’s in town to visit the twins. They’re both staying at Osamu’s apartment, which is a relief for Kiyoomi--there’s only so much time he can spend around Motoya before he’s mentally and emotionally exhausted.
He finds Hinata and Atsumu in the kitchen, cooking eggs and rice. Bokuto must be still sleeping off his hangover, seeing as he drank nearly more than all of them combined. Inunaki may or may not have gone home with the girl he’d been talking to last night. Kiyoomi’s certain that if he did, they’ll be hearing about it soon enough.
“Mornin’, sleepin’ beauty,” says Atsumu in greeting as he flips the eggs. “Want some breakfast?”
“I’m good with my granola bar, but thanks,” replies Kiyoomi. “I’m getting lunch with Toya soon, anyway.”
“Oh, yeah, I heard he was in town,” says Atsumu casually. “He’s stayin’ with ‘Samu and Suna, right?”
Kiyoomi nods. “I’m just glad he has a place to stay that isn’t our sharehouse.”
“Ya can say that again,” says Atsumu. “About Suna, I mean. I’d hate ta have him here harassin’ me 24/7. I get plenty of that as is.”
“I’m sure you do,” Kiyoomi says. He only really knows Suna through Motoya, and hasn’t interacted with him much outside of a few nights out with EJP Raijin, including the Dreaded Karaoke Night. Kiyoomi doesn’t even want to know how much dirt Suna has on him at this point.
“Did you sleep well, Omi-san?” Says Hinata.
“I did, thank you,” says Kiyoomi. “I’m sorry I made you all leave so early last night.”
“Don’ apologize fer that,” Atsumu insists. “It wasn’ all that great, anyway.”
“Yeah,” Hinata agrees, “I kept getting hit on by weird older guys the only time I tried to dance. I mostly stayed in the booth after that.”
“What, yer not into the older guys, Shou-kun?” Atsumu teases. “Maybe ya prefer them yer own age? Or is it younger?” He says, waggling his eyebrows.
Hinata goes red. “No comment,” he says.
Atsumu’s eyebrows shoot up but Kiyoomi interrupts before he can interrogate Hinata further. “I think your eggs are burning,” he lies.
Atsumu yelps and turns back to the stove. He checks the eggs frantically, flipping them into bowls for Hinata and himself before turning back to Kiyoomi with a scowl. “Yer such a dirty liar.”
Kiyoomi smirks. “I learned from the best.”
After breakfast, Kiyoomi returns to his room to shower and dress. He leaves the sharehouse at 1:30, taking the train across town to meet Motoya at a cafe near Osamu’s apartment. When he’d asked Motoya why they couldn’t just eat at Onigiri Miya, Motoya had shuddered. “I need a break from them,” is all he’d said, refusing to elaborate.
Kiyoomi arrives right on time and finds a table, ordering himself a coffee. Motoya shows up five minutes later, looking flushed as if he’d run all the way from the apartment.
“You’re late,” Kiyoomi says in lieu of a greeting.
“Shut up,” mumbles Motoya. “Suna was hogging the bathroom. I swear to god, that man is so vain…” He goes on to rant about Suna for several long minutes before pausing for breath. “How are you, by the way?” He says to Kiyoomi.
Kiyoomi sips his coffee. “Fine.”
Motoya eyes him. “You seem happier than when I saw you last,” he observes.
Kiyoomi shrugs. “I guess I am.”
“Any particular reason for that?” Motoya pries.
Kiyoomi shrugs again. “I like my team, that’s all,” he says.
Motoya beams. “Kiyooo!” He coos. “I knew they’d start to grow on you! They’re like a bunch of leeches, aren’t they?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” Kiyoomi agrees.
The waitress comes over to take their orders then. Once she’s gone, Motoya leans forward onto his elbows and says, “So, does this mean you’re over that whole thing with Atsumu?”
Kiyoomi considers this for a moment. “Yeah, I’d say so,” he says eventually. “He hasn’t really opened up to me yet, but we’re getting along just fine.”
“That’s great!” Says Motoya. “I’m glad you’re becoming friends.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Kiyoomi hedges. “I mean, Atsumu and I are civil, and we get along well as teammates, but--”
“You called him ‘Atsumu’,” Motoya interrupts, eyebrows raised.
“That’s his name,” Kiyoomi says irritably.
“Yeah, but you usually call him ‘Miya’,” Motoya points out. “Except for when your tongue slips. You don’t think of him as ‘Miya’ anymore, do you?”
Kiyoomi sputters. “That--doesn’t matter,” he says. “I just want to make sure you know which Miya I’m referring to.”
“Pretty sure I’d know, Kiyo,” Motoya replies. Kiyoomi scowls at him. “Seriously, though,” Motoya continues. “You know that you’re allowed to be friends with your teammates, right?”
“I know that,” Kiyoomi protests. “It just doesn’t happen to me that often.”
“Because you never let it happen,” Motoya fires back. “When’s the last time you trusted someone enough to open up to them?”
Kiyoomi opens his mouth to answer but nothing comes out. He’s right, Kiyoomi realizes suddenly. I don’t trust people easily.
Or he didn’t used to, at least.
He doesn’t say that, though. Instead he says, “Atsumu helped me when I had a panic attack last night.”
Motoya’s face crinkles with concern. “What happened?”
“Some guy spilled beer all over me, and then tried to hit on me,” Kiyoomi explains.
“Kiyo! Some guy harassed you?”
“It’s fine,” Kiyoomi says dismissively.
“No, it’s not,” argues Motoya. “Did Atsumu beat him up for you or something?”
“What? No. He just helped me breathe,” Kiyoomi clarifies. “I didn’t tell him about the whole harassment thing.”
“Why not? Didn’t you want to see him get his ass beat? The guy, not Atsumu,” Motoya clarifies. “More than anything,” Kiyoomi replies, “but Atsumu would have gotten himself in trouble.”
“So you didn’t tell him about it...to protect him?” Motoya says incredulously. “And he helped you through a panic attack? You know, the thing that even I can never manage to do?”
Kiyoomi nods.
“Kiyo, I’m pretty sure you’re friends,” Motoya says.
Kiyoomi frowns. “He’s just taking care of his spikers. That’s what he does. He would have done the same for Hinata or Bokuto.”
“Yeah, and they consider each other friends, don’t they?”
“I mean, sure,” says Kiyoomi, “but they, like, know each other. I don’t know them.”
“Don’t you?” Says Motoya cryptically.
Does he? Kiyoomi isn’t sure. He feels like he’s missing something, maybe something big. There’s something they know that he doesn’t, he’s sure of it.
Even so, perhaps he’s closer with the three of them than he thought.
Kiyoomi hesitates. “I..don’t know,” he admits finally. “Some days I feel like I do, but...I think there’s something they’re keeping from me. Something that has to do with Atsumu. I don’t want to pry, and I don’t know how to make them trust me.”
“You can't make them do anything, Kiyo,” Motoya says. “You just need to prove they can trust you.”
Kiyoomi hesitates again. “How do I do that?”
“Just keep getting to know them,” Motoya encourages. “It’ll happen eventually.”
“Okay,” says Kiyoomi. “I will.”
Once they’re done eating, Kiyoomi accompanies Motoya back to Osamu’s apartment. He’s not really sure why. He supposes he doesn’t want to stop hanging out with his cousin, which is...odd. Normally by now he’d need a break from him, but today Motoya’s surprisingly lucid.
Suna and Osamu greet the two of them at the door. “Welcome ta my humble abode,” Osamu says, opening the door wide enough for the two of them to enter. Kiyoomi’s not sure he’ll ever be entirely used to hearing Atsumu’s voice take on such a different tone. Some people think the twins are hard to tell apart, but Kiyoomi knows better. He’d be able to differentiate between the two of them even without the colored hair.
Osamu leads them to the living room and offers them water or tea. Motoya and Kiyoomi request green tea, and Osamu nods before disappearing into the kitchen to start water.
Kiyoomi zones out as Motoya and Suna chat about people he doesn’t know for a while, content to listen rather than participate in the conversation. Then he wonders if Suna knows what’s going on with Atsumu. He must; he’s known him since the start of high school, after all.
“Why does Atsumu get panic attacks?” He asks Suna abruptly, interrupting Motoya’s s story about Washio, another EJP player that Kiyoomi’s met once or twice.
Suna freezes. “That’s not for me to tell,” he says carefully. He pauses. “What did ‘Tsumu say to you?”
“Nothing, really,” says Kiyoomi honestly. “I had one, and he helped me out of it. When I asked him how he knew what to do, he told me he gets them sometimes. That’s all.”
Suna hums. “I’m not sure it’s my place to say,” he says after a moment. “He’ll tell you when he’s ready. But,” he adds, “you should know that it’s...a sensitive area for him. He’s not always had it easy. He still doesn’t, sometimes. Just...keep that in mind.”
Kiyoomi nods, not wanting to pry further. Osamu returns with the tea then, passing one to Motoya and then Kiyoomi. “What’d I miss?” He says casually.
“Not much,” Suna lies, and Kiyoomi feels briefly guilty for putting him in an awkward position.
He ends up staying at Osamu’s for an hour or so, catching up with the three of them and gathering more than one embarrassing story about Atsumu. “For blackmailing purposes,” Suna says, eyes gleaming.
Kiyoomi heads back to the sharehouse around five after thanking Osamu for his hospitality and hugging his cousin goodbye. Kiyoomi will be returning to Tokyo to visit his family soon enough, so it’s not as if he’ll be apart from Motoya for long. Still, he’s grateful for the talk they had today, and feels a sudden wave of appreciation for his cousin.
Atsumu’s just starting dinner when Kiyoomi returns, humming something under his breath as he cleans the kitchen counter and measures out rice.
“Omi!” He greets when he spots Kiyoomi. “How was yer day?”
“It was fine,” Kiyoomi replies. “Yours?”
Atsumu shrugs. “Same, I guess. Bokkun an’ I got some practice in after lunch, an’ then I napped up until about an hour ago.”
“That sounds nice,” Kiyoomi says honestly. He gets himself a glass of water and takes a seat at the kitchen counter, watching Atsumu as he works. It shouldn’t be all that surprising that he can cook; his brother is Osamu, after all. Still, after trying his cooking Kiyoomi can honestly say that Atsumu’s probably the best cook in their household, if not on the team. Kiyoomi’s never been great at cooking. His parents were seldomly home when he was a child, so family dinners were few and far between, and his mother never bothered to teach him anything but the basics. He could make eggs, rice, ramen and a few other simpler dishes, but that was about it.
Atsumu notices him watching. “Ya wanna help, Omi?” He says with a grin.
Kiyoomi hesitates. “I’m not sure I could be of much help,” he says after a moment.
Atsumu waves a hand. “Don’ worry ‘bout that. It’s jus’ curry, anyway. I could use an assistant, and ya can learn by watchin’! That’s mostly how I learned, anyway. Watchin’, and then eventually doin’.”
“Okay,” Kiyoomi agrees. He joins Atsumu behind the counter and washes his hands before fetching the ingredients as Atsumu instructs him. Atsumu measures everything out neatly, without even glancing at the recipe.
“Why do you even bother using a recipe?” Kiyoomi asks him.
Atsumu shrugs. “Habit, I guess. I forget things sometimes, too, so it’s good ta have it lyin’ around.”
Kiyoomi hums. “That makes sense.”
They mostly work in silence, Kiyoomi passing Atsumu ingredients when he asks for them and stirring the pot occasionally at Atsumu’s request.
Bokuto, Hinata and Inunaki come downstairs around six, and dinner is ready soon after. They eat together, and it all feels so domestic, like the sort of family gathering that Kiyoomi always longed for growing up.
He thanks Atsumu quietly before he heads to his room later, and Atsumu looks surprised. “What fer?” He says.
Kiyoomi shrugs. He wants to say, for making me feel at home, but he doesn’t. Instead he says, “For letting me help you cook, I guess.”
Atsumu smiles. “Anytime, Omi-kun,” he says.
That night Kiyoomi wonders if he should just ask Atsumu point-blank what’s going on. He thinks Atsumu would tell him, if he were to ask. Then again, there’s a chance that him asking could push Atsumu further away, and that’s the last think Kiyoomi wants right now.
He doesn’t end up asking. As it turns out, he doesn’t need to.
Atsumu gathers the team after morning practice on Monday. Kiyoomi wonders at first if he’s going to tell them about a new attack idea, or something like that. Bokuto and Hinata don’t seem surprised, though, and there’s no way he’d tell the two of them about a new combination before the rest of the team. Atsumu relishes dramatic reveals; at least, he usually does. Now, he seems uncharacteristically nervous. He’s shifting from foot to foot, hands rubbing together in irregular circles.
Once the team is seated, he takes a deep breath. “Uh,” he starts, looking to Meian as if for encouragement. Meian smiles gently at him, and that’s when Kiyoomi knows this must be something serious.
“So,” Atsumu says.
Kiyoomi’s heart rate quickens. He sounds scared.
“I have somethin’ ta say ta y’all.”
Notes:
sorry for ending on a cliffhanger, I couldn’t help myself lol
The prank Inunaki played on Akaashi is based on one that my friend and I pulled on my sister recently, she was PISSED but to be fair we were really mean and basically convinced her someone was stalking us so
Anyway I’m a terrible sibling
Also thank god for Toya, what would we do without him?
Thank you all for the comments and kudos!! <3<3
Chapter Text
“I have somethin’ ta say ta y’all.”
Atsumu stands before his team, raking his eyes across each and every one of their faces. Most of them look confused, save for Bokuto, Shouyou and Meian, all of whom know exactly what this is about.
And then there’s Sakusa.
He looks... concerned, Atsumu thinks. Atsumu knows there’s a chance he’s caught on to some aspects of Atsumu’s situation by this point, but he hadn’t realized he’d given Sakusa a reason to be concerned. More than that, even if he had, he hadn’t realized that Sakusa would care.
Atsumu hesitates. He doesn’t really know where to start.
Start at the beginning, Osamu had advised him when Atsumu had called him in a panic last night after realizing he was finally ready to tell the team. Only tell ‘em what ya feel comfortable saying out loud. No more, no less, an’ don’ feel pressured ta reveal all the gory details.
Atsumu certainly wasn’t going to do that.
He clears his throat. “So,” he says again, “some of ya may have noticed that I was...absent, the week before our game against the Adlers. I wasn’t actually sick,” he admits. “At least, I wasn’t physically ill. I’m...kinda bipolar. Not kinda, actually,” he corrects hastily. “I‘m bipolar. Have been since I was sixteen, if not younger. I’ve been on medication fer a while now, but that doesn’t mean I’m entirely immune to the more prominent symptoms, including insomnia, mood swings, etcetera. I’m sorry fer keepin’ this from y’all fer so long,” he continues, not meeting their eyes. “I jus’ wasn’t sure how y’all would react. I haven’t always had the most...positive reactions ta this. An’ don’ think I’ll be slackin’ off, either. I’ll still be performin’ ta the best of my abilities, every day. I hope y’all understand.”
He finally lifts his eyes to glance at the team, and he’s shocked to see not pity reflected on their faces, but understanding, with a hint of sadness. Even Sakusa...he looks upset, Atsumu thinks. Borderline horrified, maybe.
Atsumu wants to tell him that it’s not his fault for reacting the way that he did to Atsumu’s absence. He could have been more understanding, regardless of Atsumu’s condition. Even so, Atsumu’s past that, and he wants Sakusa to know that.
Later, he thinks, looking back to Meian uncertainly. “Uh,” he adds eloquently, “any questions, I guess?”
Barnes raises a hand.
“Shoot,” says Atsumu.
Barnes hesitates at first before saying, “Is there anything we can do to further accommodate you? I’m sure we haven’t been the best about doing so in the past, but...I’m sure we all want to do what we can to help, whenever possible.”
The rest of the group nods silently.
Atsumu feels like crying. “Um,” he croaks, “I guess jus’ try and understand when I’m not at my best? An’ don’t ya dare pity me,'' he adds with a watery smile. “I’m jus’ as strong as the rest of ya.”
“I’d argue that you’re stronger,” Meian says gently, and Atsumu very nearly breaks down.
“Thanks, cap,” he whispers. He clears his throat. “Anyway,” he says, “I don’ wanna keep y’all, I jus’ needed ta get that off my chest. I hope that’s all right.”
The team nods once again. “We’re always here, if you need us,” Adriah chimes in. “Don’t forget that, okay?”
“Yeah,” Inunaki agrees, “We know you’re, like, the most committed out of all of us. I mean, you’re constantly staying late for practice, and--”
“You were manic,” Sakusa blurts suddenly. The group turns to him, and he flushes. “You were manic,” he repeats, slowly, “when you started overworking yourself. You couldn’t stop.”
Atsumu rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was,” he says. Sakusa looks gutted. “I--”
“If it’s all right with the rest of you,” Meian says, cutting Sakusa off, “I’d like to go home now.” He looks to Atsumu for confirmation, and Atsumu nods. “Fine by me,” he says. “If anyone has anythin’ else ta say or whatever, ya can ask me outside of practice. I’m pretty free when I’m not depressed,” he jokes, wincing a bit at how it falls flat. Adriah lets out a chuckle, at least, and Inunaki cracks a smile before slapping Atsumu on the back so hard he flinches forward. “It’s good to have you back, ‘Tsumu,” he says. Atsumu returns the smile.
Sakusa walks back to the sharehouse with Bokuto, Atsumu, Shouyou and Inunaki, but Atsumu thinks he seems distant. He goes straight to his room when they get home without saying a word.
Bokuto and Shouyou exchange a glance. “That was weird,” Bokuto says, voicing Atsumu’s thoughts.
“Yeah,” Shouyou agrees. “Maybe he just feels guilty, or something.”
“He shouldn’t,” says Atsumu. “He didn’ know any better.”
Bokuto shrugs. “Still,” he says, “I would too if I were him.”
Atsumu nods, but there’s an uneasy feeling in his gut. Uncertainty and something else, something he recognizes but doesn’t want to examine too carefully.
It’s getting bad again.
“I should go rest,” Atsumu says suddenly.
Bokuto and Shouyou look at him with concern. “Do you want to talk about it?” Says Shouyou.
“‘M fine,” Atsumu lies. “Thanks, though.” He smiles at them weakly before heading to the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of vodka from the cabinet and a soda from the fridge, taking them both straight to his room.
The moment the door’s closed behind him, the smile falls from his face and he sinks to the floor. He hadn’t realized that telling the team would be such an ordeal .
And what even was Sakusa’s reaction?
He hadn’t said a word to Atsumu since he’d realized that Atsumu had been manic the week before the Adler’s game. Atsumu wondered if he was upset. Maybe he thought that Atsumu should be able to control his moods, control himself.
Atsumu takes a swig of vodka, grimacing at the bitter flavor that coats his tongue, and quickly chases it with soda. He eventually migrates to the couch, downing vodka until his limbs feel warm and his mouth goes numb. He ditches the soda before too long; it’s not as if he can taste the alcohol anymore, anyway.
He doesn’t realize how late it’s gotten until he checks his phone an hour later and realizes that it’s already four PM. He should get ready for their evening weight training session.
Instead he drinks.
He passes out on the sofa at four thirty, and by the time he wakes up it’s well past seven. So much for weight training.
He wonders if the team knows why he’s absent. They probably have some idea, at this point. He wonders if they care.
When he checks his phone he finds a text from Meian that says, ‘ Are you okay?’ There’s one from Bokuto, and Shouyou as well, all asking after his health.
Atsumu throws his phone across the room. The living room is carpeted, so it’s not as if it’ll break, but Atsumu doesn’t care if it does.
He puts on Love Island at some point and stares mindlessly at the screen, swigging vodka even as his stomach starts to turn. He cuts himself off when he’s three quarters of the way through the bottle. He might be depressed, but he’s not suicidal.
Not anymore, anyway.
He falls in and out of sleep for hours, and finally pushes himself off the couch around midnight to get himself a glass of water. He drains the glass, and just as he sets it down on the coffee table he hears a knock at the door.
Atsumu ignores it at first, but the knocking gets more insistent. Atsumu rules out Bokuto or Shouyou; they wouldn’t be so persistent, knowing that if he refuses to answer the door he’d rather be alone.
That leaves Meian, Inunaki, and Sakusa. Meian would have texted him first, and Inunaki probably wouldn’t bother to come by.
“Atsumu?” Sakusa calls through the door, tentatively. “I know you’re in there.”
Atsumu’s anger flares. He stalks to the door and whips it open, nearly stumbling into Sakusa in the process. “What?” He snaps, knowing he probably sounds (and looks) like absolute shit.
One glance at Sakusa reveals that he’s not in much better shape. His eyes are ringed in red, and he looks distraught, yet determined.
“Can I come in?” He says softly. Atsumu steps aside silently, and Sakusa enters his room.
He takes a moment to scan the space, examining the small, drab sofa, the coffee table, the bed shoved into the corner and the closet door hanging open. Atsumu’s room is cleaner than usual, but he’s sure it’s still not up to Sakusa’s standards.
Sakusa turns to Atsumu. “Can we talk?”
Atsumu nods mutely. He gestures at the sofa, and Sakusa takes a seat at one end, Atsumu claiming the other.
“Are you okay?” Sakusa starts, looking concerned.
Atsumu scowls. “Why’d ya want ta know?”
“Because you seem upset,” Sakusa says, before making a face. “Sorry, I’m terrible at this. What I meant to say was…” he hesitates. “You’re my friend, and I want to know if you’re okay.”
Atsumu eyes him warily. “I’m fine.”
Something flashes in Sakusa’s eyes. He looks almost angry, Atsumu thinks. “No, you’re not,” he says. “You’re drunk off your ass, for one. Have you had anything to drink since practice this morning? Apart from vodka, I mean,” Sakusa adds, shooting a glance at the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table.
“I was drinkin’ water right before ya showed up, fer yer information,” Atsumu slurs. “Why’re ya here, anyway?”
“To check on you,” says Sakusa, sounding unsure. “That’s what friends do, right?”
Atsumu squints at him. “‘S that all?”
Sakusa sighs. “I want--I need --to apologize. For the way I acted, and for my ignorance. I didn’t know...I never would have...ugh. Look. I’m not going to treat you any differently. Neither of us want that. But I will do everything that I can to be there for you from here on out. I know I can’t undo the damage I did to our relationship, but I want to try.”
Atsumu’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth. “Ya really--ya really care enough ta do that?”
“Yes,” says Sakusa, looking at him clearly. “I do.”
“Oh,” says Atsumu. And then, “ Oh. I’m gonna be sick.”
Sakusa frowns. “I deserve that, I guess,” he says. “But I really am--”
“No, Omi, like, I’m gonna hurl,” Atsumu chokes out. He stands unsteadily, and Sakusa, eyes widening in understanding, leaps to his feet as well. “C’mon,” he says to Atsumu, leading him to the bathroom. They barely make it in time; Atsumu’s just kneeling beside the toilet when his breakfast comes up. He hasn’t eaten anything since then, so the rest is mostly bile.
Sakusa kneels beside him, rubbing his back silently. Atsumu’s glad he’s not trying to make him feel better about himself or anything like that. He’s humiliated enough as is.
When he’s finally done, Sakusa passes him a damp washcloth to wipe his face and helps him to his feet. Atsumu wipes his face and washes out his mouth before turning to Sakusa.
“‘M sorry ya had ta see that, Omi,” he mumbles. “I drank a lot.”
“I know,” says Sakusa. “Did you eat today?”
“Breakfast,” Atsumu replies.
Sakusa frowns. “You shouldn’t try now, but you need to in the morning, okay? I’ll make sure you get something before I leave for practice tomorrow, and tell Coach Foster you’re having an episode.” He pauses. “That is what this is, correct?”
“Probably,” says Atsumu, surprised. “How’d ya know the term?”
“Research,” Sakusa says simply. Atsumu wants to ask him why, but he’s so tired and his body is starting to feel heavier by the minute.
“Bed?” Says Sakusa, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah,” says Atsumu. Sakusa leads him back into the bedroom and helps him into bed. It’s embarrassing, but comforting somehow.
Once he’s tucked in, Sakusa says, “I’ll check on you before practice tomorrow, okay?”
“‘Kay,” says Atsumu with a yawn.
“Text me if you need anything,” Sakusa adds, and then turns to go.
“Wait, Omi,” says Atsumu sleepily.
Sakusa turns back. “Yeah?”
“Thanks fer takin’ care of me,” he says. “I know I’m not really that easy ta be around when I’m like this.”
Sakusa frowns. “I don’t know who told you that, but they’re wrong,” he says firmly.
“No one had ta tell me,” Atsumu slurs.
Sakusa says something else, sounding upset, but Atsumu’s already drifting off.
When he wakes, the room is bright with sunlight, sending flares of pain through Atsumu’s head. He groans and rolls over, trying to cover his eyes with his pillow, but it’s useless. His throat is parched, and when Atsumu lifts his head he notices a glass of water on the nightstand. He frowns. How’d that get there?
Suddenly he remembers pieces of the previous night. Nothing too specific, but…”Sakusa,” he mumbles. He must have left the water for Atsumu, as well as the ibuprofen that mercifully doesn’t interact badly with any of Atsumu’s other medications. Atsumu wonders if Sakusa knew that, or if he just got lucky. Probably the latter.
He downs the pills and drains the glass in a single gulp. His head is pounding so hard that it takes him a moment to realize there’s someone knocking on his door.
“S’ open!” He yells hoarsely, hoping it’s not a lie. The door opens a moment later, revealing Sakusa. “Miya,” he greets, examining Atsumu’s disheveled state. He shuts the door behind him and comes over to the bed. “How’s your head?”
Atsumu grimaces. “Terrible.”
Sakusa looks amused. “I can imagine. Are you feeling all right apart from that?”
Atsumu considers that for a moment. He still feels distinctly off, but it’s hard to tell whether it’s an episode at this point. It could be a mixed episode, which in his experience can last anywhere from one day to several weeks. This one could be miraculously short and already starting to wane, or it could be the start of something worse.
“Too soon ta tell,” Atsumu replies eventually.
Sakusa just nods in response. “Anything I can get you before I head to practice?”
Atsumu shakes his head. “I don’ think I can eat yet, ta be honest with ya,” he admits. “I will one my stomach settles down, though.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” says Sakusa. “I’ll talk to Foster and let him know you won’t be attending morning practice today. Evening practice is up to you, but I’d advise against it,” he adds, eyeing Atsumu’s bedraggled appearance.
“Probably a good idea,” Atsumu agrees. Then he pauses. “Omi?”
“Yeah?”
“Did I say anythin’ stupid last night?” Atsumu says hesitantly.
“Define ‘stupid’,” says Sakusa dryly.
Atsumu scowls. “Like, stupider than usual,” he clarifies.
Sakusa shakes his head. “I don’t think so,” he says.
Atsumu breathes a sigh of relief, though he’s not sure why it matters. He’s embarrassed himself in front of Sakusa plenty of times before.
“You did throw up, though,” Sakusa adds.
“Omiii! Pretty sure that counts as embarrassin’,” Atsumu complains.
“You said things you said, not did,” Sakusa points out.
“Whatever. At least tell me I didn’t throw up on ya,” Atsumu says.
“You did not,” Sakusa confirms.
“Oh thank god. I guess ya probably wouldn’t be here if I had, though, huh?” Atsumu realizes.
Sakusa frowns. “I said I’d check up on you,” he says. “I meant it.”
Atsumu doesn’t know what to make of that.
“Anyway,” Sakusa continues, glancing at his phone, “I should get to practice, but I’ll check on you after, all right?”
“Ya don’ have ta--”
“I’ll check on you after,” Sakusa repeats.
Atsumu’s too tired to protest. “Thanks, Omi-kun,” he says.
“Sure. See you later,” says Sakusa, and then he leaves.
Atsumu dozes on and off for the rest of the morning, only dragging himself out of bed to pee and get himself more water sometime around noon. He drinks two consecutive glasses before he lets himself get back into bed.
At 1:30, there’s a knock at his door. “Come in!” Atsumu yells, too exhausted to leave his bed.
He was expecting to see Sakusa, but hadn’t realized that Bokuto and Shouyou would be tagging along as well.
“Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto wails, crossing the room and throwing himself practically on top of Atsumu. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Yeah, is Omi-san your favorite now?” Shouyou teases.
“What? No,” Atsumu denies, but the damage has been done.
“He is, isn’t he?” Bokuto cries. He throws a hand to his forehead dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m being upstaged by a blunt jerk! No offense, Omi,” he adds.
“None taken,” Sakusa replies mildly.
“Yer all my favorites, okay?” Atsumu reassures them. “What are y’all doin’ here, anyway?”
“I told you I was coming by,” Sakusa says, “remember? As for these two--”
“We’re worried about you, ‘Tsumu,” says Shouyou. “Also, we brought food!”
Atsumu’s stomach growls at that, loudly enough that Bokuto must hear it. Sakusa passes Atsumu a bag, which he barely manages to take, as Bokuto is still sprawled across his body.
Atsumu’s eyes widen. “Is this--”
“Onigiri Miya? Yep!” Says Bokuto proudly. “Osamu made it special for you, he didn’t even make us pay!”
“Oh shit,” says Atsumu with no small amount of horror. “He’s gonna kill me.”
Shouyou frowns. “Why would he do that?”
Sakusa winces. “You forgot to respond to his messages, didn’t you,” he says.
“Ta be fair,” Atsumu defends, “I didn’ even know I had any. I, ah, should prob’ly check that now, I guess.”
“Eat first,” Sakusa instructs. “It’s been more than 24 hours since you last ate, correct?”
Shouyou looks at Atsumu worriedly. “Are you in another episode?”
“I dunno,” Atsumu says honestly. “Too soon ta tell. If I feel better by the end of the day, then it’s probably just a short mixed episode. If not, then…” he trails off, but the message is clear.
“What’s a mixed episode?” Says Shouyou, confused.
Atsumu opens his mouth to respond, but Sakusa beats him to it. “It’s a state in which mood and energy level fluctuate, and are misaligned,” he explains. “So you could have high energy and low mood, or vice versa. They can be incredibly dangerous.” He looks at Atsumu. “Is that correct?”
Atsumu nods, mouth dry. Just how much research did he do?
“How dangerous?” Says Shouyou, concerned. “Are you--”
“I’m not suicidal or anythin’,” Atsumu assures them. “They can get pretty bad, but this one’s jus’ a faint low mood high energy kinda thing. Or maybe not high energy, but…” He struggles to describe what it’s like. He looks to Sakusa. “Do ya have a better way of putting it?”
Sakusa considers this. “Well,” he says, “there’s physical energy levels, and then there’s mental energy levels. I’m assuming that when you have a lot of mental energy, your thoughts are moving too quickly to comprehend, yes?”
Atsumu nods.
“Then,” Sakusa continues, “You could be physically exhausted with a low mood, but still be anxious and overthinking. Anxiety is also a common symptom of Bipolar Disorder,” he explains. He looks to Atsumu. “Does that sound right?”
Atsumu nods, surprised. “Yeah, it does,” he says. “I think that’s what’s happenin’ now. I’m pretty fatigued, but my thoughts are kinda sped up,” he explains to the others.
Shouyou nods, considering this. Then he turns to Sakusa. “Where did you learn all of that, Omi-san?”
Sakusa shrugs. “I did some research,” he says. “That’s why I went to my room after...well, after you told us,” he says, eyes trained on Atsumu. “I had to make sure I knew what I was working with.”
“College habits, huh?” Says Atsumu, trying to pretend he’s not reeling.
“Something like that,” says Sakusa.
“Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto bellows suddenly, so loud that Atsumu flinches. “We forgot to tell you the good news!”
Sakusa grimaces. “I was going to leave that part out entirely,” he says.
“Omi-san!” Shouyou chastises. “Why would you do that?”
“Because ‘good’ is subjective,” Sakusa replies.
“Ooh, something Omi doesn’t like? Count me in,” Atsumu teases.
“You’ll like this one, ‘Tsumu,” Shouyou announces. “Meian said--”
“Hey hey, I wanted to say it!” Bokuto says, pouting.
Shouyou rolls his eyes. “Fine, you can tell him,” he says.
Bokuto brightens. “So,” he says excitedly, “Meian said we need to be doing more team bonding in the off season, ‘cause it’ll help our chemistry on the court at all, so this Sunday we’re going to be--”
“Here it comes,” mutters Sakusa.
“--taking a pottery class!” Bokuto finishes, eyes sparkling.
Sakusa’s face is so grim that Atsumu has to chuckle. “A pottery class, huh?” He says, smirking at the dirty look Sakusa shoots him. “Sounds fun, count me in!”
“Are you sure you’ll be well enough by then?” Sakusa says pointedly. “Who knows how you’ll be feeling? And what if you need someone to stay behind and take care of you? I’ll do it, if I must,” he adds, as if he’s only just thought of it.
“Nice try, Omi-kun,” says Atsumu. He turns to Shouyou and Bokuto. “We’ll be there.”
Sakusa looks like he ate something sour, or maybe something sweet--he does like sour things, after all. “I suppose I have no other option, do I,” he grits out.
“Nope!” Says Atsumu brightly. “Get ready, Omi! Yer about ta be wowed by my incredible pottery skills!”
“Wow, Tsum-Tsum! I didn’t know you’d done pottery before!” Says Bokuto.
“Oh, I haven’t,” Atsumu clarifies. “I jus’ know I’m gonna be good at it.”
“We’ll see about that,” says Sakusa, eyeing him dubiously.
“I guess we will,” says Atsumu defiantly. He shoves an onigiri in his mouth, suddenly remembering his hunger. He eats so quickly he nearly chokes.
“We should probably let him rest now,” Sakusa points out.
Atsumu swallows and says, “But I feel so much better!”
“Rest, Atsumu,” says Sakusa sternly. He ushers Bokuto and Shouyou out of the room before following them. “See you tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder before shutting the door.
Only then does Atsumu process that Sakusa didn’t refer to him as ‘Miya’.
Atsumu feels much better the next day, and the rest of the week flies with something to look forward to. Sunday rolls around and Atsumu finds himself in a pottery studio in downtown Osaka, wearing a clay-covered apron and seated in front of a wheel. Sakusa is to his left, Shouyou on his right, and Meian directly across from him.
“All right!” Announces the woman who’d passed out their aprons. “My name is Toki Nendo, but you can call me Nendo. I’ll be your instructor for the day, and you can come to me with any questions you might have regarding the wheel throwing process. I’ll get us started with a short tutorial. If everyone could gather around my wheel…”
Atsumu follows the others over to Nendo’s wheel. They gather in a semi circle, watching as she demonstrates how to start the process, form the shape, and hollow out the inside. She shows them how to smooth out the edges and the sides and then remove it safely from the wheel.
Atsumu has a feeling that his own process will not go so smoothly.
“Hey, Omi,” Atsumu says, nudging Sakusa’s arm.
Sakusa turns to glare at him. “What?” He hisses.
“I bet I can make a bigger pot than ya,” Atsumu mutters.
Sakusa’s eyes flash dangerously. “You’re on.”
They start off slow, practicing on smaller vessels before gradually adding more and more clay. Atsumu finds he’s not doing as badly as he expected, and Sakusa’s not terrible, either. Their skills are pretty evenly matched overall, and Atsumu realizes before too long that it’s going to be a pretty close competition.
After a few trial rounds, he begins carving out a larger chunk of clay to work with. Sakusa comes over after a moment, likely to get more clay for himself as well.
“Could you be any slower, Miya?” He says irritably.
“I don’ know, could I?” Atsumu retorts. He deliberately slows his motions down to practically a standstill.
“ Miya.”
Atsumu grins and resumes digging out clay. “I’m jus’ messin’ with ya, Omi,” he says, gathering his enormous lump of clay in his arms.
“Clearly,” mutters Sakusa before hip-checking Atsumu aside to get to the clay cart.
Atsumu smothers a laugh and returns to his wheel to get started.
It’s a lot harder to control such a large amount of clay, he realizes quickly. He has to keep a steady foot on the pedal to ensure he doesn’t speed up too fast, and he feels as if he’s using practically every arm muscle he has to keep the vessel upright. Hollowing it out is nearly impossible; it’s a good thing Atsumu’s tall, or else he wouldn’t be able to reach the top of the clay to start the process.
For a little while, it appears to be going well. He glances over at Sakusa occasionally, finding him in a similar situation. Both of their vessels are coming along nicely, Atsumu thinks. Sakusa’s eyes are narrowed and nose screwed up in focus, tongue just peeking out of his mouth. There’s something so alive about his expression; it’s like nothing Atsumu’s ever seen.
Then his foot slips on the pedal, and the wheel accelerates suddenly, throwing him off balance. He grasps wildly for the vessel, but it’s too late. It’s spinning too quickly, and it’s just top heavy enough that the extra weight sends it off Atsumu’s wheel...and straight into Sakusa’s.
The clay makes a wet smacking sound as the collision takes place, and Atsumu can only look on in growing horror. It happens as if in slow motion: first, his vessel hits Sakusa’s, slapping against it and instantly crushing it into a pile of wet clay. Then, the spin from Sakusa’s wheel sends the wet clay straight into Sakusa. A particularly large chunk breaks off and flies straight into his face; the rest of it scatters outward, one piece even going as far as to hit Meian’s poor pot.
The room is silent. Sakusa turns to Atsumu, face coated in clay. His expression is murderous. “I,” he says slowly, “am going to kill you, Miya.”
“Miya, run!” Inunaki yells, and Atsumu bolts. Sakusa chases him straight out of the building and all the way around the block before finally catching him. He grabs Atsumu’s wrist and drags his sorry ass back to the studio.
“What’re ya doin’?” Atsumu yelps. “C’mon, Omi, yer scarin’ me!”
Sakusa leads him back into the building and straight to his wheel. “Wait here,” he instructs. Atsumu stands fearfully, watching Sakusa’s every movement. The rest of the team does nothing to stop him as he grabs the slip bucket, crosses the room to Atsumu, and upends the entire thing over Atsumu’s head.
Two hours and two hundred apologies later, the team leaves the studio, led by a furious Meian. The second they’re out of the building, he rounds on Atsumu and Sakusa.
“The one time we try taking a class together,” he seethes, “and the two of you just had to go and--”
“Meian-san,” Shouyou breaks in nervously, “I’m sure they didn’t mean to--”
“What? Didn’t mean to pick a fight during a goddamn pottery lesson?”
“Technically, the lesson part was over at that point,” Atsumu chimes in. Meian turns his glare on him, and Atsumu cringes. “Uh. Okay, not important. I see that now.”
Meian turns to Sakusa. “I expected this from Miya--”
“Ya what?”
“--but I had hoped you’d stand to be the voice of reason on this team. Clearly, I was wrong,” Meian snaps.
Sakusa bows his head apologetically. “Sorry, Meian-san,” he says.
“Yeah, me too,” Atsumu agrees. “More sorry than him, probably.”
Sakusa’s head whips up. “What are you, five?”
“Well--”
“Jesus christ, just go home already,” Meian interrupts, sounding exhausted. “I want to enjoy the next--oh, 16 hours or so before I have to see your faces again. And, if you ever try this shit again, I swear to god you’ll never be invited to another team bonding excursion again.”
“Bet ya’d like that, huh?” Atsumu mutters to Sakusa, who elbows him in the ribs. “Ow!”
Meian just sighs. “See you all tomorrow,” he says before splitting from the group.
Adriah and Barnes say goodbye soon after, leaving Atsumu with Shouyou, Bokuto, and Inunaki.
And Sakusa.
They walk back to the sharehouse in silence. Shouyou and Bokuto exchange nervous glances, while Inunaki walks five paces ahead of the rest of them, to ‘pretend he’s not a part of their group’.
When they arrive at the sharehouse, Sakusa goes straight to his room, slamming the door behind him.
“Drama queen!” Atsumu yells after him, and hears a muffled “Fuck you!” In response through the door.
Showering is a whole ordeal. Atsumu’s so caked in clay that his drain is practically clogged by the time his face is clean. At least the majority of the clay was on his clothing; Sakusa’s probably having an even harder time than Atsumu.
He sort of forgets about dinner, and around ten PM he realizes that his stomach is growling. He still has some leftovers from lunch in the fridge, so he heads downstairs, hoping the kitchen will be empty.
It’s not.
Sakusa sits at the kitchen counter, eating instant ramen in silence. On a regular day Atsumu’d probably make some kind of joke about him eating his own hair--he’d likened Sakusa’s hair to ramen more than once in their time together on the team--but tonight he’s worried about angering him further.
Sakusa glances up at Atsumu when he enters the kitchen. His expression is surprisingly mild for someone who was practically out for blood not even five hours ago.
“Hey,” Atsumu says cautiously.
“Hey,” Sakusa replies.
Atsumu stares at him. “Are ya feelin’ okay, Omi?” He says.
Sakusa shrugs. “Yeah, why?”
Atsumu squints. “Yer scarin’ me. Why aren’t ya still mad?”
“Why would I be mad?”
Atsumu gapes at him. “Didja lose yer memory or somethin’?”
Sakusa rolls his eyes. “Drama queen,” he mutters. “No, I didn’t lose my memory. I am capable of getting over things, you know.”
“Really? ‘Cause--”
“Atsumu.”
“Yeah?” Says Atsumu, confused.
“I felt gross earlier, but I showered. Now I’m fine. Got it?” Says Sakusa calmly.
“So ya weren’t upset about me destroyin’ yer pot, then, were ya?” Atsumu realizes. “Ya were jus’ mad about gettin’ dirty.”
Sakusa laughs. “You--you thought I was mad because you destroyed the ugliest vessel in the history of vessels?” He snorts. “No. I was not mad about that. I probably would have enjoyed that bit, if not for the getting-covered-in-clay part. I still did, actually.”
Atsumu cracks a smile. “Good ta know,” he says.
“Anyway,” Sakusa continues, “I had fun, mostly.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I mean, dumping that bucket of slip over your head? Now that was fun,” says Sakusa, eyes gleaming.
“Ya--wait a minute. Didja do that on purpose so that we’d get banned from team bonding activities?” Atsumu demands.
“No,” Sakusa corrects, “I did it because I wanted to. That would have been a happy side effect.”
“Yer terrible,” says Atsumu, breaking into a grin.
“I know.”
Atsumu thinks of something. “Hey, Omi?”
Sakusa takes a bite of ramen. Atsumu wonders how he makes eating look so elegant. Isn’t ramen supposed to be messy?
“Yeah?” Sakusa replies once he’s swallowed.
“Are ya gonna keep callin’ me Atsumu?”
Sakusa cocks his head. “Do you want me to?”
“Yeah,” says Atsumu honestly.
“Okay, then,” says Sakusa. “I will. When you’re good,” he adds.
Atsumu scowls. “But that’s, like, never!” He protests.
“Guess you’d better start making an effort to be nicer to me, then,” says Sakusa offhandedly.
“Fine,” Atsumu allows. “But I wanna call you Kiyoomi.”
Sakusa hesitates. “Okay,” he says eventually. “Not around the others, though. They’ll run with that, just like they did with your stupid nickname.”
“Ya like ‘Omi’!” Atsumu argues. “I know ya do.”
“Maybe a little.”
“I knew it!”
Atsumu eats his leftovers, chatting with Sakusa--with Kiyoomi-- until his eyelids grow heavy. Eventually he can’t suppress his yawns.
“You should sleep,” Kiyoomi says softly. “You don’t want to throw off your circadian rhythms.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot ya know all about that shit now,” Atsumu remembers. “Thanks fer helpin’ me explain stuff ta the others earlier, by the way.”
“No problem,” replies Kiyoomi as he cleans out his bowl. Atsumu gets his own dishes, and they head upstairs together.
When they reach their rooms, they remain in the hallway for a moment in comfortable silence. Atsumu can’t help but think that this is starting to feel like friendship.
“‘Night, Kiyoomi,” Atsumu says finally, turning towards his door.
“Goodnight, Atsumu.”
Notes:
Toki Nendo literally translates to 'pottery clay'. I’m sorry I got lazy
also I haven’t thrown in, like, forever, can you tell?
Chapter Text
“Ya know,” Atsumu says around a mouthful of rice, “I don’ think I know much ‘bout yer family life, Omi-kun.”
Kiyoomi wrinkles his nose. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s disgusting.”
Atsumu swallows before saying, “Answer the question, Omi.”
“I didn’t hear a question,” Kiyoomi says.
“Yer jus’ deflectin’.”
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “No, you literally didn’t ask a question.”
“Fine, then. What’s yer family like, Kiii-ooo-mii?” Says Atsumu, drawing out the syllables of his name.
“They’re fine,” Kiyoomi replies. It’s not a lie. His family isn’t bad or anything, they’re just not particularly present in his life. They never have been, really. His parents are busy people, and both of his siblings have families of their own.
Atsumu raises a brow. “That’s all ya got ta say?”
Kiyoomi sighs. “We’re not close,” he iterates. “We never really have been, and I hardly see them anymore, so there’s not much to tell.”
Atsumu hums. “Ya know,” he says thoughtfully, “I used ta wish my family wasn’t so close.”
Kiyoomi frowns. “Really?”
“Sure,” Atsumu replies. “‘Samu bein’ the exception, of course. Growin’ up with my parents was hard sometimes. They put a lot of pressure on both of us, and they weren’t so understandin’ when my symptoms first started showin’. I remember wishin’ they wouldn’t notice so that they’d jus’ leave me alone instead of yellin’ at me all the time. I don’t think that way anymore,” he adds, “but I did fer a long time.”
“Were they...did they…” Kiyoomi hesitates.
“They weren’t abusive, if that’s what yer tryin’ ta ask,” Atsumu says with a slight smile. “Jus’ a pain in the ass sometimes, and they could’ve yelled less. It wasn’t so bad, though.”
“I’m sorry they weren’t there for you,” Kiyoomi says. His parents weren’t exactly there for him, either, but they’d never yelled at him, either.
“‘S fine,” Atsumu says dismissively. “We usually get along nowadays.” He pauses before asking, “What’re yer siblings like?”
“My sister and I are close,” Kiyoomi tells him. “Chiyo’s great. She’s only six years older than I am, so she took care of me a lot growing up. We used to build pillow forts in our living room whenever our parents had to work late, and sometimes we’d even fall asleep in them,” he adds fondly.
“That sounds lovely,” says Atsumu, gazing at Kiyoomi softly.
“Yeah,” Kiyoomi says, “it was. I wasn’t quite as close with my brother. Kenji’s eight years older, so I didn’t see him often, and he moved away for college while I was still in middle school.”
“That’s quite the age gap,” Atsumu comments.
“Yeah. My parents would never admit it, but I’m pretty sure I was an accident,” Kiyoomi tells him.
Atsumu snorts. “I guess ya could say the same fer Samu and I,” he says. “I mean, my parents wanted kids, they jus’ didn’t realize they’d both be showin’ up at the same time. That must’ve been quite the surprise.”
“I can imagine,” Kiyoomi agrees. “You’re older than your brother, right?”
“By six minutes,” Atsumu says proudly.
“I don’t think that’s the accomplishment you think it is,” Kiyoomi informs him.
“Fuck off. I’ll take what I can get, okay?” Atsumu retorts. “Anyway, ya can’t talk, yer the baby of yer family and it shows.”
“Does it look like I care?”
Atsumu scowls. “Asshole.” He brings his bowl over to the sink and begins washing it while Kiyoomi watches absently.
“So,” Atsumu says as he spills dish soap all over his hands, “are ya ready fer the practice game tomorrow?”
Coach Foster had arranged a practice game with EJP the previous week. He’d informed them that it was to be a ‘friendly game’ with their ‘friendly rivals’--putting the emphasis on ‘friendly’ both times--but with Atsumu competing with Suna and Kiyoomi going up against Motoya, Kiyoomi thinks there’s a chance the game could quickly dissolve into merciless chaos.
“I’m ready to kick Motoya’s ass,” Kiyoomi declares.
“Bold words from someone who couldn’t get a single spike past Inunaki this week.”
“Yeah, well,” Kiyoomi says defensively, “I know Motoya. I’m better at predicting his actions.”
“It goes both ways, though,” Atsumu reminds him.
Kiyoomi scowls. “I know that.”
“I’m not sayin’ ya don’t,” Atsumu replies. He stretches his arms over his head, revealing a sliver of stomach. “We should probably get ta bed, huh?”
“Guess so,” Kiyoomi says. He washes his bowl out quickly before following Atsumu upstairs. They part ways at their doors after a quick goodnight, and Kiyoomi enters his cold, empty room, feeling thrown off by the sudden silence. He’s been spending so much time in the downstairs area of the sharehouse lately that his room has started to feel less and less appealing. It’s not lonely, per se; it’s just not the same as being around his boisterous housemates.
Kiyoomi sighs and readies himself for bed. He drifts off quickly, looking forward to their match against EJP.
In the morning, Kiyoomi feels good. He’s well rested, and excited to see Motoya. They’d made plans to hang out after the game, and Motoya had told him he had a surprise activity planned.
Kiyoomi’s the first one in the kitchen for once. Usually both Hinata and Atsumu are up before he is, but they must still be packing their bags. Even though it’s a home game, game days always take a certain level of preparation, and Kiyoomi assumes that Atsumu is packing extra clothing, since he’s planning on hanging out with Osamu and Suna after the game.
Hinata, Bokuto and Atsumu join Kiyoomi in the kitchen when Kiyoomi’s halfway through a bowl of cereal. Inunaki comes downstairs soon after, yawning and complaining about the overcast sky.
“I hate mornings,” he grumbles into his coffee.
“Yes, yes, we know,” Kiyoomi says dismissively, and Atsumu snorts. “The day Inunaki becomes a morning person is the day I retire from volleyball, ‘cause clearly I’ve seen it all,” he jokes.
Inunaki scowls. “Don’t make me do something rash,” he warns. “I’d hate to see you get injured on a game day.”
“ Practice game day,” Kiyoomi reminds him.
“C’mon, Omi,” says Bokuto cheerfully. “Let’s just pretend it’s a real game! It makes it more fun, anyway.”
“Yeah!” Hinata agrees. “Practice games are only fun if you take them seriously!”
Kiyoomi just looks at him. “When have I ever not taken something seriously,” he deadpans.
Atsumu slings an arm over his shoulders. “We get it, Omi-kun, yer the most serious man on the planet! A man of discipline, a man of--”
“Miya--” Kiyoomi warns.
“--dignity, a man of...erm, manners?”
Kiyoomi shakes his arm off after a moment. “Whatever. Let’s go crush those fuckers.”
“That’s the spirit!” Hinata cheers.
When they arrive at the gym, Adriah, Barnes and Meian are already present. Coach Foster is speaking with the referees, and Meian comes over when he spots the five of them, instructing them to begin warm ups.
“Be thorough,” he reminds them. “And remember that we’re treating this like a real game, and not a practice one.”
“Yes, captain!” Says Atsumu with an exaggerated salute. Meian just rolls his eyes before joining Adriah and Barnes in running laps around the gym, and the five of them follow close behind.
EJP shows up while they’re stretching, Motoya sprinting over to Kiyoomi as soon as he spots him.
“Kiyoooo!” He yells, grinning from ear to ear.
“That’s a nice nickname,” Atsumu says. “Can I call ya that, ‘Kiyoooo’?”
“No,” says Kiyoomi flatly.
“Are you ready to lose?” Motoya teases as soon as he gets close.
“I think you know the answer to that,” Kiyoomi replies.
“Whatever,” Motoya says dismissively. “Are you excited for our surprise activity after?”
“Not really, since I don’t even know what it is,” Kiyoomi tells him.
“Kiyooo! That’s all part of the fun!”
“I’m not sure that’s--”
“Hey,” says Suna, coming up behind Motoya. “Coach said we should start warming up.”
Motoya pouts. “Fine,” he says. “We’ll talk after the game, okay?” He says to Kiyoomi before following Suna over to the rest of their team.
After they’ve stretched, they work on some basic passing drills for ten minutes or so, and then it’s time to line up.
The game starts without much fanfare--it’s a practice game, after all, so it’s not as if there’s an announcer or any press involved in the process. Meian serves first, a nice clean jump serve that’s picked up by Motoya in a shaky receive, and the ball flies over the net to the Jackals’ side of the court. They get the first point, and the second as well before EJP manages to score once.
They take the first set easily, to Kiyoomi’s immense satisfaction. He smirks at Motoya over the net, who glares back at him. Atsumu’s not much better, sneering at Suna every chance he gets, while Suna’s face remains infuriatingly impassive.
The second set is trickier. Motoya adapts quickly to the Jackals’ new offensive tactics, even Atsumu and Barnes’ new quick, and EJP ends up taking the set with a score of 25-22. The third set’s even closer, though the Jackals end up taking it eventually, after a deuce that leaves the score at 27-29.
The fourth set starts off pretty well. Everyone’s on their game, and Kiyoomi’s slowly figuring out how to get his spikes and serves around Motoya. Atsumu’s on fire, too; he’s gotten three service aces in this set alone, and they’re only halfway through.
Suna’s in the front now, which means they have to worry about quick attacks. The Jackals usually counter Suna’s attacks using blockers to narrow his range of motion so that Inunaki can pick up the spike; they can’t just shut him down, because Suna’s obnoxiously flexible and always manages to weasel his way around a block.
Lucky for them, their usual tactic seems to be working. Now the score’s 17-15 in their favor--close, but at least the Jackals are maintaining a steady lead.
The end draws near, and even though Kiyoomi’s exhausted, he puts his all into every spike, every serve, every receive. When they reach the 20’s, Hinata comes back into rotation, and his and Atsumu’s quick attack earns them another two points.
All of the sudden, they’re at match point.
Inunaki picks up Washio’s serve, and sends it in a perfect A-pass to Atsumu. Suddenly Kiyoomi knows that Atsumu’s going to set to him. He’s sure of it.
He starts his run early, knowing that Atsumu will get the ball to him. A sliver of doubt blooms in his mind when he realizes that he’s going up against all three blockers, but Atsumu wouldn't set to him if he didn’t think that Kiyoomi could get the point.
Right?
Kiyoomi leaps, the blockers rising up in a solid wall before him, and it’s only then that Kiyoomi realizes what Atsumu’s really going to do.
The ball reaches Atsumu as Kiyoomi reaches the peak of his jump, and as the blockers reach their full height, Kiyoomi knows that Atsumu’s made the right decision. Kiyoomi can’t break through this wall; but he doesn’t need to, because across the court Atsumu’s performing the most beautiful setter dump Kiyoomi’s ever seen.
The ball hits the ground with a smack and the other team stares at the point of contact in shock. Kiyoomi grins proudly at a stunned Motoya, who hadn’t even had time to dive for the ball before it touched the court.
Kiyoomi turns to look at Atsumu, who’s staring right at him, expression giddy and slightly stunned, as if he hadn’t been sure that would work. Kiyoomi crosses the court to Atsumu and holds out his hand. Atsumu smacks it fiercely, still looking surprised, and Kiyoomi realizes then that this is the first high-five he’d given anyone on the team.
“That was a great move,” he says to Atsumu honestly. “I would have done the same.”
Atsumu grins at him. “Thanks, Omi! I was goin’ ta set ta ya, I really was, but then I realized that ya were leadin’ the blockers away from my side of the court. I would’ve been stupid ta pass up an opportunity like that.”
Kiyoomi wonders how he manages to process all of that information and come to a decision so quickly.
Inunaki comes up behind Atsumu and slaps him on the back. “Gorgeous dump!” He declares, and the rest of the team, crowding around Atsumu, cheers their agreement.
“Good game, everyone,” Meian tells them, sounding proud.
“Thanks, cap!” The team echoes.
They all go to line up and thank EJP for the game before heading to the locker room. Suna and Motoya accompany Kiyoomi and Atsumu, Motoya complaining about Atsumu’s stupidly good setter dump and Suna playing them off against each other.
“I swear,” Motoya says, “Kiyoomi had that one! I was so sure of it.”
“So was he,” Atsumu says smugly. “That’s why it worked.”
Suna looks at Kiyoomi. “How does it feel to be used?”
“It feels almost as good as winning against you,” Kiyoomi replies.
Atsumu snickers. “Good one, Omi.”
“Ooh, Atsumu!” Motoya cuts in. “I meant to ask earlier, but do you and Suna want to accompany Kiyo and I on a surprise activity after this? Osamu is welcome as well!”
“What’s the activity,” says Atsumu.
“It’s a secret! Well, it is to Kiyo, but I suppose I can tell you both.”
“ What?” Says Kiyoomi, annoyed. “That’s not fair.”
Motoya ignores him and whispers something in Atsumu’s ear, and his eyes light up. “Sounds fun,” he says. “Count me in!”
“I’ll text ‘Samu,” Suna says.
“Don’t you want to know what it is, Rin?” Says Motoya, confused.
“Don’t care,” Suna replies. “Just looking for something to do. Besides, whatever it is, I’m sure I can find a way to embarrass Atsumu. Maybe Sakusa, too,” he adds thoughtfully.
Kiyoomi glares at him. “You’re a menace.”
“Thanks!” Says Suna brightly.
The four of them shower and change before meeting outside the entrance of the gym, where Osamu is already waiting. He must have come straight from work; he’s dressed simply in jeans and a black Onigiri Miya t-shirt along with the hat he usually wears while he’s working (Kiyoomi’s been dragged to the restaurant by Atsumu often enough to know this).
“Who won?” Osamu says, looking bored.
“Who do ya think?” Atsumu says smugly.
“Not you,” Osamu says pointedly.
Atsumu scowls. “Why’d ya always gotta play favorites, ‘Samu? Or if yer gonna, at least back me up fer once!”
Osamu pretends to consider this for a moment before saying, “Nah.” Then he turns to Kiyoomi. “How are you, Sakusa-san?”
“Fine, thank you,” replies Kiyoomi.
“Omi played so well,” Atsumu says proudly. “He made the perfect decoy!”
“Is that all I am to you,” Kiyoomi says flatly.
“Pretty much, yeah,” Atsumu replies blithely.
“We should get moving,” Motoya breaks in. “The place is open pretty late, but it gets busier in the evening.”
“ What place?” Kiyoomi says, exasperated.
“Can’t tell you,” Motoya sings. “But you’re gonna love it!”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Kiyoomi mutters.
As it turns out, he was right to have his reservations about the ‘surprise activity’. Ten minutes after they leave the gym, they arrive at their destination: a roller rink.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kiyoomi groans.
“What, ya don’ like skatin’?” Atsumu teases.
“That’s an understatement,” Kiyoomi responds miserably.
“Are ya bad at it or somethin?”
“No,” Kiyoomi lies, “I...just don’t like it.”
Atsumu stares at him for a moment. “I don’t believe ya,” he announces. “I think ya jus’ suck.”
“I mean, I’m not great at it,” Kiyoomi hedges, and Atsumu grins evilly. “I knew it. Yer embarrassed!”
“Shut it.” To Motoya he says, “Why are you doing this to me?”
“C’mon, Kiyo, it’ll be fun!” Motoya replies enthusiastically.
“For you, maybe,” Kiyoomi says. “Why’d it have to be a surprise, anyway?”
“You never would have agreed to come otherwise,” Motoya points out.
“Exactly.”
Once they get inside of the rink, they head to the counter to get sized for skates. Kiyoomi’s nerves grow the longer they have to wait, and by the time he finally gets his skates his fingers are trembling. He has trouble lacing up his shoes, and the others have to wait for him as he finishes tying them. When he’s done, he stands up...and promptly falls back down again.
“Wow, you really are bad,” Atsumu comments. Kiyoomi gives him his worst death glare, but Atsumu remains unfazed. He holds out a hand to Kiyoomi. “C’mon. Yer useless on yer own, apparently.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Kiyoomi states, but he takes his hand anyway. Atsumu yanks him up, and he wobbles a bit but eventually regains his balance. Atsumu lets go, and Kiyoomi instantly misses the support.
“C’mon,” says Motoya impatiently. “I wanna get moving!” He turns and skates across the carpet and onto the floor, where he proceeds to pick up speed until he’s practically across the rink from the rest of them. Osamu and Suna follow close behind, and Atsumu’s about to follow them as well when he hesitates, looking back at Kiyoomi.
“I’m fine,” Kiyoomi insists stubbornly.
“Oh yeah? Prove it,” Atsumu says, gesturing at the floor in front of him. Kiyoomi balks. “Uh,” he says, “It’s fine, just...go ahead without me.”
“Omi.”
“ Ugh. Fine,” Kiyoomi snaps, wobbling over to the floor. He steps out tentatively, barely managing ot hold himself upright. “See? Fi--aaah!” He yelps as Atsumu pokes him in the side, startling him and sending him toppling over. Atsumu stands over him, smirking. “Ya don’ seem fine ta me,” he points out.
Kiyoomi glowers. “Why’d you push me?” He demands angrily.
“Ta prove a point. There’s no way ya can skate on yer own,” Atsumu says.
“Yeah, well, what are you going to do about it? Help me?” Kiyoomi retorts.
“Sure,” Atsumu says, “since you asked so nicely.” He extends a hand, which Kiyoomi glares at for a moment before taking it. “I’ll let you help me,” he says to Atsumu, “if you promise not to make fun of me once.”
“Not gonna promise that,” Atsumu says instantly. “Sorry. Buuuut I can promise yer gonna fall a whole lot less with me around,” he adds, and apparently Kiyoomi is desperate, because he finds himself nodding reluctantly. “Fine,’ he says, “but if you push me again, I swear to god…”
“I really only poked ya a little,” Atsumu protests. “There was no pushin’ involved.”
“Same thing,” says Kiyoomi. He takes Atsumu’s hand and lets himself be pulled to his feet once again. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Atsumu grins. “That’s the spirit!”
He tugs Kiyoomi’s hand gently. “First,” he instructs, “ya gotta move yer feet, or we’re not gettin’ anywhere.”
Kiyoomi tries, he really does, but instead of moving forward, he slips backward, and if not for Atsumu’s steady grip, he’d have landed on his ass.
“Try it like this,” Atsumu suggests, demonstrating the motion.
Kiyoomi tries to copy him, and manages to move forward a couple of feet. Atsumu moves with him, letting Kiyoomi grip his hand like a lifeline.
“Good!” Cheers Atsumu. “I think yer gettin’ the hang of it, Omi-kun!”
Almost immediately after that, Kiyoomi goes down, slamming into the floor. He throws Atsumu off balance too, taking him along with him.
They land hard in a heap of limbs just in time for Suna and Osamu to skate past.
“Smile, you’re on camera!” Says Suna, holding up his phone. Atsumu holds up his middle finger while Kiyoomi groans and rubs his head.
“I’m done,” he announces. “I’m going to get seriously injured if I keep this up.”
“At least it’s the off season,” Atsumu offers.
“Not helpful.”
“C’mon, Omi,” Atsumu whines. “Jus’ one more try. I won’t let ya fall again.”
Kiyoomi sighs. “Fine. But this is your last chance.”
“I’ll make it worth it,” Atsumu promises.
“You’d better.”
Atsumu helps him to his feet, and Kiyoomi inches towards the wall cautiously. Atsumu holds his left hand while his right reaches the wall and grips it carefully, just enough to give him balance. It’s not so bad, really. Atsumu’s a pillar of stability, and along with using the wall, Kiyoomi’s confidence blooms.
Motoya laps them several times as they inch their way around the rink, as do Suna and Osamu. Kiyoomi’s fairly certain that Suna’s photographing them periodically, which is embarrassing but can’t be helped.
Kiyoomi puts up with skating for another half hour or so before calling it quits. Atsumu remains on the floor, and so Kiyoomi finally gets to see Atsumu skate unhindered. He’s pretty good, Kiyoomi has to admit, more graceful than Osamu and faster than Suna. Motoya’s still better than him, but then again he’s better than anyone when it comes to skating, so that doesn't really count.
The others skate around the rink for another twenty minutes or so before they tire themselves out.
“Should we get food?” Osamu asks the others as they return their skates.
Atsumu snorts. “One track mind,” he comments. Osamu hits him, and Kiyoomi holds Atsumu back before it can turn into an all out brawl.
“I’m down!” Motoya says enthusiastically. “What are you guys feeling?”
“There’s a really good ramen place a few blocks from here,” Atsumu offers.
“Ramen’s good,” Suna agrees, and Kiyoomi nods his agreement as well.
The restaurant is just a short walk down the street. Once they’re all settled with their orders, Motoya looks at Kiyoomi and says, “So, I guess the two of you are getting along better now, huh?”
“ Toya,” Kiyoomi hisses. “Must we talk about this now?”
Motoya’s eyes gleam. “Why, are you still denying the fact that Atsumu’s your friend?”
“Atsu-- Miya and I teammates,” Kiyoomi announces.
“Aw, I’m hurt, Omi-kun,” Atsumu says, pouting dramatically.
“Good,” Kiyoomi replies impassively.
Motoya rolls his eyes. “I don’t know why you have to be so stubborn about this.”
In all honesty, Kiyoomi just doesn’t want to admit that Motoya is right. He knows that he and Atsumu are friends.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kiyoomi says.
“Ugh. Whatever,” Motoya says, and changes the subject.
After lunch, Atsumu and Kiyoomi part ways with the others--Suna and Motoya are both staying with Osamu one again--and head back to the sharehouse together.
“Hey, Omi?” Says Atsumu, breaking the comfortable silence.
“Yeah?”
“We are friends, right?” Atsumu says hesitantly.
“Of course we are,” Kiyoomi responds instantly. “I think so, anyway.”
Atsumu grins from ear to ear. “Good,” he says. “I’d rather have ya on my side.”
Kiyoomi nods. He feels the same way. “I didn’t want to admit it to Motoya because he’d just gloat about how he knew it before I did.”
“Oh, yeah,” Atsumu agrees, “that’s the worst. ‘Samu would do the same.”
“What did we do to deserve them?” Kiyoomi says, a bit fondly.
“Only god knows.”
When they arrive at the sharehouse, they find Bokuto and Hinata in the kitchen, finishing their dinner. Inunaki is watching tv in the living room with the volume cranked all the way up. It sounds like some sort of thriller; horrifying screams echo throughout the household.
Kiyoomi grits his teeth. “Excuse me,” he says, “I think I’m going to go insane if I have to hear another minute of this. I’ll be in my room.”
He practically sprints upstairs, ignoring the bemused look Atsumu sends his way and the looks of confusion on Hinata and Bokuto’s faces. They probably don’t know about his sensitivity to loud noises, Kiyoomi realizes. He wonders how Atsumu knows.
Kiyoomi reads for a while in his room before hearing a knock at the door. He opens it to find himself face to face with a flustered looking Atsumu. “Uh,” he says, “I just thought I’d let ya know that Inunaki’s done watchin’ that shitty show if ya wanna come back down.”
“Maybe in a minute,” Kiyoomi says. After a pause he adds, “Would you like to come in?”
Atsumu brightens. “Really?”
“Sure,” Kiyoomi replies. He opens the door wider in invitation, and Atsumu steps into his room.
It’s Atsumu’s first time in Kiyoomi’s room, he realizes after a beat. It’s not so different from Atsumu’s room; the bed is on the other side, closer to the bathroom, while Kiyoomi’s solo armchair is pushed up next to the window beside a small table.
“Nice place ya got here,” Atsumu comments, drinking in the space.
Kiyoomi scoffs. “It’s the same as yours,” he shoots back.
“Nah,” Atsumu says, “yer room looks like ya.”
Kiyoomi wonders how a room can resemble a person. “Do you want to sit?” Kiyoomi adds belatedly.
Atsumu waves a hand. “I’m good, thanks. Jus’ wanted ta see yer space. I’ll probably head back down in a bit,” he adds, eyeing the few photographs decorating Kiyoomi’s walls.
“I’ll go with you,” Kiyoomi says.
“Okay,” Atsumu says, eyes still trained on Kiyoomi’s wall. “Am I in any of those photos?” He asks suddenly.
Kiyoomi glances at the wall. “Just the team one, I think. Why?”
“Oh, no reason,” Atsumu says offhandedly. “Ya ready ta go?”
Kiyoomi shoots his novel one last longing glance. “Sure.”
He follows Atsumu downstairs, wondering when hanging out with his housemates began to take precedence over his reading habits.
Bokuto, Hinata and Inunaki are already seated in the living room. Inunaki and Bokuto took the armchairs, while Hinata is sprawled across the sofa. He sits upright when he notices Kiyoomi and Atsumu, and beckons them over.
Atsumu sits in the center of the sofa, leaving the other end to Kiyoomi. It’s a tight squeeze, but Kiyoomi finds he doesn’t mind it the way that he used to.
“What are y’all talkin’ about?” Atsumu says.
“I was just telling them about how I’m looking for a therapist,” Bokuto explains. “You know, for my ADHD. Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you, do you have any recommendations?”
“Uh,” says Atsumu, rubbing the back of his neck, “actually, I don’t...really...have one?” He finishes sheepishly.
Bokuto’s eyes bug out. “ What?”
“I jus’ never had the time or the energy ta find one, ya know?” Atsumu says defensively. “It’s a lot of work, and most of the time now it feels unnecessary, and then by the time I remember I need one it’s kinda too late,” he adds.
“That’s no good, Tsum-Tsum,” Hinata says solemnly, and Kiyoomi has to agree.
“How do you even get by without therapy?” Bokuto wonders. “No offense.”
“None taken. I mean, the medications work,” Atsumu explains. “Most of the time.”
“Do you need help finding one?” Kiyoomi says suddenly. “I’m pretty good at research, if you need a hand.”
Atsumu’s eyes widen. “Really? Ya’d do that fer me?”
Kiyoomi shrugs. “Sure,” he replies. “I can help you next time you’re free. Preferably before your next episode,” he adds.
Atsumu grins. “Thanks, Omi.”
“Sure.”
“Hey, Sakusa, what are your birthday plans this year?” Inunaki says, changing the subject. “It’s soon, right?”
“Five days,” Kiyoomi replies. “And I don’t know, I haven’t really thought much about it.”
Bokuto grins. “Good thing we have.”
“Bokkun!” Atsumu hisses, eyes panicked.
“Oops, was that supposed to be a surprise?” Says Bokuto cluelessly.
Kiyoomi smothers a smile. “It’s okay, Bokuto,” he says. “I hate surprises anyway.” He stares meaningfully at Atsumu.
“I thought that was only if the surprise entailed skatin’?” Atsumu says.
“Those are definitely the worst,” Kiyoomi says, “but no surprise is a good surprise.”
“I’m gonna prove ya wrong,” Atsumu says confidently. “Yer gonna see.”
“Technically it’s not a surprise anymore,” Hinata points out.
“Shhh,” says Atsumu. “Don’ worry about that part.” He turns back to Kiyoomi. “Prepare yerself to be wowed, Omi-kun!”
“I’ll do my best,” Kiyoomi replies sarcastically.
Wednesday rolls around, and Kiyoomi’s feeling apprehensive by the time he leaves the gym after weight training. At least the rest of the team is going home as well, so Kiyoomi knows there won’t be any jumping-out-from-behind-the-furniture type surprises.
He walks home with Inunaki, Hinata, Bokuto and Atsumu, and sees no sign of any sort of party to come. He should feel relieved, but instead feels a twinge of disappointment, though he’s not sure why. He didn’t want to do anything for his birthday, anyway.
Right?
He goes straight to his room to change once he’s home, telling the others he’ll be down for dinner. He showers again and changes into sweats, allowing himself a brief reprieve before descending into chaos once more. He reads for a bit, and only stops when he feels his stomach growl.
Kiyoomi sets down his book and decides he may as well head downstairs.
The kitchen is dark and empty when he reaches it, and Kiyoomi frowns, confused. He goes into the living room, which also appears to be empty, and flicks on the light.
“Surprise!” Yells Atsumu, jumping out from behind the sofa. Bokuto, Hinata, Inunaki, Adriah, Barnes and even Meian are close behind, and when Atsumu holds out his phone, Atsumu can see a tiny Motoya on facetime.
Kiyoomi doesn’t know what to say. Everyone’s grinning at him like they know they actually managed to fool him, and Atsumu looks all too smug.
“What do you say, Kiyooo?” Coos Motoya, and Kiyoomi swears that if he were there in person he’d hit him.
Kiyoomi scans the room. “Thank you,” he says honestly. “I usually hate surprises, but I guess I’ll let this one slide.”
Meian turns to Atsumu, scandalized. “You told us he loved surprises!” He says.
“I lied,” says Atsumu unashamedly. “Yer the dummy that believed me, anyway. Ya really think that Omi, our Omi, likes surprises? No way.”
Motoya laughs through the phone. “It was my idea, actually,” he admits, his voice tinny and distorted.
“Why am I not surprised,” Kiyoomi says flatly.
“Because I’m your favorite cousin!” Motoya declares.
“Actually, that would be your sister,” Kiyoomi corrects.
“Kiyoo! Rude!”
“I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Kiyoomi says to Motoya.
“Enjoy the party!” Says Motoya cheerfully before hanging up.
Kiyoomi looks up at the group. “Seriously, thank you,” he says. “This was really thoughtful.”
“Tsum-Tsum planned most of it, actually!” Says Bokuto.
Atsumu blushes. “I started the plannin’,” he corrects. “Everyone else helped me with the details an’ such.”
“He even baked you a cake!” Bokuto continues, ignoring Atsumu.
“Yeah, it’s adorable!” Says Hinata enthusiastically. “Come see!”
Kiyoomi looks at Atsumu, amused. “You can bake?”
Atsumu scoffs. “‘Course I can bake!”
“I guess we’ll see about that,” Kiyoomi replies, just to annoy him.
As it turns out, Atsumu is an excellent baker. The cake is an elegant flourless chocolate one with vanilla icing and fresh raspberries decorating the top. Kiyoomi actually gapes at his slice for a full minute before even trying it, and when he does he finds that it tastes even better than it looks.
“Now, presents!” Atsumu declares once Kiyoomi’s nearly done with his cake. He passes Kiyoomi a medium-sized, thinnish, rectangular box. “That’s from me,” Meian says around a mouthful of cake.
Kiyoomi tears open the paper carefully, trying to preserve as much as possible.
“Of course ya open presents like a freaking grandpa,” Atsumu observes.
Kiyoomi just sticks his tongue out at him in reply and tears the last of the paper from the box. “It’s a puzzle,” he realizes, examining the cover of the box. It depicts an image of of a painting called ‘ White on White’ that Kiyoomi’s familiar with. It’s basically a white square with another, slightly darker, white square inside of it, slightly askew. It looks like a challenging puzzle, Kiyoomi observes.
“Thank you, Meian,” Kiyoomi says. “I’ll send you a picture when I finish it.”
Atsumu stares at him. “Ya can’t be serious. Yer actually gonna do it?”
“Yes?” Says Kiyoomi, as if it’s obvious. “That’s what one does with puzzles, typically.”
Atsumu frowns. “I don’ even think it’s possible.”
“No puzzle’s impossible,” Kiyoomi replies.
Atsumu eyes him. “I’m gonna watch ya do it,” he declares, “and yer gonna eat those words.”
“Whatever you say.”
Barnes goes next, giving Kiyoomi several bath bombs and some nice bar soap, which Kiyoomi appreciates. He receives gift cards from Inunaki and Bokuto, a surprisingly good drawing of a volleyball from Hinata, and a pair of nice wool socks from Adriah.
Atsumu goes last, handing him a thick envelope. Kiyoomi frowns, wondering what it could possibly be. He opens the envelope, and pulls out...photos.
There must be dozens of them. All of them feature Kiyoomi, sometimes with the team, or his housemates, and a few of them are just him and Atsumu. There’s a photo of the team at a bar after practice, a photo of Kiyoomi on the court, frozen midair, a photo of him and Motoya from the ramen place they’d gone to after skating, and even a (blurry) photo of Kiyoomi onstage from the Dreaded Karaoke Night.
Kiyoomi flips to the end, and finds a photo of him and Atsumu at the roller rink. Kiyoomi’s mid-fall, so his face is blurry, and Atsumu’s grinning as if amused by the situation. They’re holding hands, although it’s hard to tell from the angle it was taken at, and the lights around them are blurry and haloed, as if whoever took the photo was moving. Belatedly Kiyoomi realizes it must have been taken by Suna--he was the only one who brought his phone skating with him, after all.
“How did you get Suna to give you these?’ Kiyoomi says, stunned.
“I have my ways,” Atsumu says cryptically. “Not all of them are his, though. Hinata and Bokuto took a few, and I took the one at the ramen place.”
“What about this one?” Kiyoomi says, pointing at the one of him midair.
“Oh, that was me, too,” Atsumu says, sounding embarrassed. He clears his throat. “I jus’...thought it looked neat,” he admits.
Kiyoomi feels smug. “You think I look cool?”
“That’s not what I said!” Atsumu protests weakly, but the damage has been done. He sighs and says, “I’m never gonna live this one down, am I?”
“Nope,” Kiyoomi replies. Then he adds, “Thank you for these. I love them.”
Atsumu looks pleased. “Yer welcome. I jus’ figured yer wall needed some decoration,” he explains.
“Anyway,” Meian says, breaking in, “Happy birthday, Sakusa. I hope we made it a good one.”
“The best,” Kiyoomi says honestly.
He’d never imagined that he could grow so close to his teammates. Kiyoomi feels himself smiling, and he doesn’t bother to hide it. It’s not like he has any reason to, anyway; he doesn’t mind if his teammates--if his friends-- know that he’s happy.
They’re the ones who made him that way, after all.
Notes:
The rest of the team watching Atsumu and Kiyoomi talk about the photos: sus
I actually chose roller skating for this chapter based on a random activity spinner I made and I'm glad I got that one cause I feel like it worked all right
anyway
thank you all for the comments and kudos, they are much appreciated <3
Chapter Text
In early April, Meian announces that it’s time for another team bonding activity.
He gathers the group after practice. Foster’s already gone, since he’s not involved in planning activities such as the ones Meian has been forcing the team to take part in.
“We’re going camping,” Meian tells them as soon as they’ve fallen silent. The group immediately erupts into noise once again--some cheers, some groans, the loudest being from Kiyoomi--and Meian waits for them to quiet again before continuing.
“Barnes and I did some research, and found a campsite not too far from Osaka. It’s at Setonaikai National Park, which is about a two hour drive from here. We’ll be meeting at the gym on Saturday at nine o’clock to board the bus, and our check in time is at 11:30. Any questions?”
Kiyoomi’s hand goes up, and Atsumu can’t help but smile in amusement.
“Why,” Kiyoomi states when Meian nods at him. “Why would you do this to me.”
“That didn’t sound like a question,” Adriah points out.
“Do it for the bonding, Sakusa,” Inunaki says brightly, throwing an arm across Kiyoomi’s shoulders. Kiyoomi shakes it off almost instantly, leaving Inunaki pouting.
Meian addresses Kiyoomi. “I know it’s going to be tough,” he admits, “but I think it will be worth it.”
“Don’ worry, Omi-kun,” Atsumu chirps, slinging an arm around Kiyoomi’s neck. “I’ll protect ya from the big, bad bugs.”
“Don’t forget about the dirt!” Shouyou chimes in. Kiyoomi pales.
“Oh, and before I forget,” Meian adds, “the campsite is on a beach, so Hinata can teach us the basics of beach volleyball. I think it could really improve our stamina on the court.”
Shouyou whoops. “I’ll be the best beach volleyball coach you’ve ever had,” he announces to the group proudly.
“Now that that’s settled,” Meian continues, “please let me know if you have any questions or concerns. Otherwise, you’re free to go.”
Atsumu follows the others to the locker room. Kiyoomi still looks a bit pale, so Atsumu falls into step with him, reaching over to pinch his cheek. When Kiyoomi turns to glare at him, he explains, “Ya were startin’ ta look a bit dead fer a minute there, Omi--ow ow! Let go!” He yelps as Kiyoomi pinches his arm.
“Now we’re even,” Kiyoomi says, sounding satisfied. He’s wearing a smug smile that would annoy Atsumu if it weren’t so endearing.
Cute.
The thought comes to Atsumu unbidden, and he freezes in his tracks.
Kiyoomi notices, frowning at him. “You good?”
“Sure!” Atsumu squeaks. “Jus’ remembered somethin’ I have ta do later, that’s all.”
Kiyoomi looks like he doesn’t entirely believe him, but he drops it anyway. Atsumu follows him to the locker room, head spinning. He doesn’t really find Kiyoomi attractive, does he?
No, he tells himself, you don’t. Kiyoomi is objectively hot. Objectively. That doesn’t mean anything except that Kiyoomi is a well-proportioned pro-athlete with a side career in modeling. Atsumu’s no different. Everyone on their team is pretty hot, if he’s being honest. He’s usually just too preoccupied to notice.
So why is he noticing now?
He shakes the thought from his head as he showers and changes before walking back with the others.
“What are we doing for dinner tonight?” Inunaki says as they near the sharehouse.
“I don’ feel like cookin’, maybe we could do takeout?” Atsumu suggests.
“Fine by me,” Inunaki agrees.
“I thought you had an important thing to do later?” Kiyoomi says pointedly.
“Uh, jus’ gotta call ‘Samu,” Atsumu lies. “I can jus’ do that after dinner.”
On second thought, maybe it’s not a lie; Atsumu could really use someone to talk to right now, and he doesn’t entirely trust anyone else not to make things weird. Osamu will be blunt with him, and tell him his attraction to Kiyoomi is a byproduct of spending so much time with an objectively hot person.
“ Is this about Sakusa-san? ” Osamu says as soon as Atsumu picks up the phone. “‘ Cause I swear ta god, if ya’ve started more drama with him, I will hang up the phone right this second.”
“Yes and no,” Atsumu says carefully.
“ What the hell does that mean?”
“It means,” Atsumu says, “that I have a teensy problem.”
“ Okay, then,” Osamu says impatiently. “ Out with it. I ain’t got all day.”
Atsumu takes a deep breath. “It’snormaltofindyourfriendsattractive, right?”
“ Huh?”
“It’s normal,” Atsumu says more slowly, “to find your friends attractive, right?”
Osamu groans. “I swear ta god, Tsumu, if this is about Shouyou again--”
“It’s not!” Atsumu snaps. “I only had a crush on him fer the first month that he joined, anyway.” And who wouldn’t? Hinata Shouyou is an actual ray of sunshine. That doesn’t make him Atsumu’s type.
“ Okay, then,” Osamu says warily, “ who’s the lucky guy this time?”
Atsumu sighs. “Ugh. It’s Omi,” he mumbles. “But, like, it’s not a crush or anythin’! Just some stupid temporary attraction,” he clarifies before Osamu can get any ideas.
The line is silent for a moment. Then Osamu says, “ Are you insane?”
“Yes?” Says Atsumu uncertainly. “I mean, no, it’s just a temporary lapse of sanity, ‘s all.”
Osamu sighs. “ Tsumu,” he says, “ yer a fuckin’ dumbass. God, I can’t believe I didn’t notice it sooner.”
“What do ya mean, ‘didn’t notice it sooner’?” Atsumu demands. “Ya’ve been callin’ me a dumbass since the moment ya came outta the womb.”
“That’s not--ugh. Nevermind, figure it out yerself.” Osamu hangs up, leaving Atsumu with more questions than answers.
On Friday night, Atsumu packs a duffel bag with clothing, toiletries, and a newly purchased sleeping bag. Meian is providing sleeping mats and tents, though he did mention that they’d likely have to double up for the sleeping arrangements.
Just as he finishes shoving the unwilling sleeping bag into the already overstuffed duffel, he hears a knock at the door.
“S’ open!” He yells, hoping that it actually is open (he usually forgets to lock it nowadays, anyway).
The door swings open to reveal a flustered looking Kiyoomi.
“How can I help ya, Omi-kun?” Atsumu says breezily.
“I--uh.” Kiyoomi starts haltingly. “I don’t know what to pack,” he mumbles. “I’ve never been camping before,” he clarifies, “so--”
“Ya need help?” Atsumu offers bluntly.
“I mean, yeah, I guess,” Kiyoomi hedges. “Fine. Yes, I need help. And don’t you dare make fun of me for it,” he warns.
“Wouldn’ dream of it, Omi,” Atsumu says with no small amount of glee. “Do ya wanna see what I’m packin’?”
Kiyoomi nods, crossing the room to kneel beside Atsumu.
“All right then,” Atsumu says. “First, I packed some clothes. We’ll be there fer two nights, so don’ forget that when yer packin’ yer underwear.” He adds with a grin.
Kiyoomi’s nose wrinkles at that, but he says, “Got it. What kind of clothing are you bringing?”
“Eh, pretty casual stuff,” Atsumu tells him. “A few t-shirts, two hoodies, a jacket ‘cause it’s cold at night still. Oh, also jeans an’ sweats. Gotta be comfy, am I right?”
“Anything else?” Says Kiyoomi, typing a list into his notes app.
“Uh, well, if I were you I’d bring a mask or two fer the restroom, since it won’ be the cleanest. Also wipes, sanitizer, extra soap, along with any and all hair products ya need ta keep yer curls pretty,” Atsumu lists off.
Kiyoomi types away furiously. “Okay,” he says finally, once he’s scanned the list. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” Atsumu replies. On impulse, he blurts, “Wanna be my bus buddy tomorrow? Ya know, since Bokkun and Shou-kun’ll probably sit together, an’ I’m not tryin’ ta get stuck with Inunaki.”
“Me neither,” Kiyoomi agrees. “You’d better bring your own blanket, though. I don’t plan on sharing.”
“Whatever ya say, Omi,” Atsumu replies mildly.
He doesn't bring a blanket, and ends up spending the first half of the bus ride begging for a corner of Kiyoomi’s. The second half he spends drifting in and out of sleep, drooling all over himself and trying not to lean on Kiyoomi. He gives up eventually, since Kiyoomi doesn’t seem to mind. If he did, Atsumu’s sure he’d have no problem pushing Atsumu off of him, anyway.
When they arrive at the campsite, Meian goes to check in while the others begin unloading the bus. Meian returns soon after they’ve finished.
“Barnes and I figured out the sleeping arrangements on the ride over,” he announces to the group. “I’ll be rooming with Adriah, Barnes is with Inunaki, Hinata with Bokuto, and Miya with Sakusa. Sound good?”
Everyone nods, although Atsumu feels on edge for some reason. It’s not as if he has any issue with the arrangements; he and Kiyoomi are getting along now, after all.
So why does he feel so apprehensive?
He grabs a tent from the pile, Kiyoomi taking ahold of the other end, and they race to the campsite to claim a good spot before the others can get to it. They put their tarp down at the edge of the clearing, close to the path leading to the bathroom and beneath a small grove of trees. There’s a picnic table and a fire pit in the center of the clearing, and a second path across the campsite leads to the beach.
“I’m pretty sure you’re doing this wrong,” Kiyoomi says to Atsumu a few minutes later as he attempts to put together their tent.
“ Yer the one who’s never been camping before, not me,” Atsumu grumbles. “Pretty sure I know what I’m doin’.”
“The tents upside down,” Kiyoomi points out.
Atsumu glowers up at him from where he’s crouched on the tarp. “ Yer upside down!”
“Why the hell are we letting them share a tent,” Adriah groans from a couple of feet over.
“Why, would you rather room with either of them?” Meian replies irritably.
“No,” Adriah says quickly, and then he sighs. “You’re right. This is better for everyone.”
“I can hear ya!” Atsumu yells, still focusing intently on pushing the tent pole through the fabric loops.
“We don’t care,” Meian fires back.
“Here,” Kiyoomi says, “let me help. I studied the directions extensively, and let’s be real, you’re never getting this done on your own.”
“I resent that!”
“Whatever,” Kiyoomi says dismissively. He pulls out a tiny piece of paper that somehow unfolds into a large, practically tent-size page and reads to Atsumu, “First, make sure the tent is right side up.”
Atsumu glares at him suspiciously. “Ya jus’ made that one up, didn’ ya,” he accuses.
Kiyoomi’s lips turn up at the corners. “Maybe.”
Atsumu huffs and flips the tent over. “Whatever. What next, oh wise leader?”
Kiyoomi ignores the quip. “Next, get all of the tent poles put together.”
“Done,” Atsumu says. That was the first thing he’d accomplished, actually.
“Okay,” says Kiyoomi. “Now, take the longest poles--there should be two of them--and thread them diagonally through the tent.”
Atsumu does as he’s told, and once the poles are in, the tent actually begins to resemble a tent. With Kiyoomi’s help, he secures the corners of the tent to the ground and adds the rain shield, though it’ll likely be unnecessary. Once that’s done, they set up their futons. Atsumu hadn’t realized how tiny the tent was until he got inside. It’s hardly enough room for a single futon, let alone two.
“Looks like we’ll be cuddlin’ tonight, Omi,” Atsumu remarks.
“If you attempt to cuddle me I’ll kick you.”
They meet up with the rest of the group after getting changed. Meian’s passing out sandwiches and gatorade for an early lunch; they’ll be taking a hike after, and then a short trip to the beach in the evening. Tomorrow they’ll be mostly focusing on learning the basics of beach volleyball, and they’ll head back to Osaka early Monday morning.
“Are you all ready to go?” Meian says, addressing the group one they’ve finished eating.
There’s a chorus of ‘yes’s, and then Meian leads them into the woods.
The path they take is narrow, so narrow that Atsumu has to walk behind Kiyoomi instead of by his side. Bokuto is behind Atsumu, trailed by Inunaki, while Meian leads the group, followed by Adriah, Barnes and Shouyou.
The trail is long and eventually delves into steep switchbacks that kill Atsumu’s legs and cause his breaths to come in quick huffs. He’d be ashamed of his lack of stamina if everyone else weren’t in the exact same position, save for Shouyou and his ridiculous endurance.
The hike leads them up the side of a small mountain, and when they reach the end of the trail they find themselves on the edge of a steep cliff overlooking the water.
“Wow,” Inunaki comments, and Atsumu finds he has to agree. The sun is high in the sky, and the water sparkling in various shades of blue beneath it. The view is framed by willowy firs that grace the cliff, clinging desperately to the edge of the drop.
“Don’t even try going near the edge, you two,” Meian warns, addressing Bokuto and Shouyou. “I know you’re both under the impression that you can fly, but guess what? You can’t.”
Bokuto pouts. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” he says sullenly.
Meian just rolls his eyes in response. “Fine, do what you want,” he says wearily. “But I wasn’t around to see it, if anyone asks.”
“Neither was I,” Adriah agrees.
Bokuto turns to Shouyou. “Wanna recreate that scene from The Lion King? I bet I could hold you up pretty easily.”
“Don’t you dare,” Kiyoomi threatens. “If you try that, I swear to god I’ll push you both straight off this cliff, because that’s what you deserve for being that level of stupid.”
Atsumu chokes on a laugh, while Shouyou and Bokuto look disappointed.
“Don’ worry,” Atsumu tells them, “Omi’s jus’ scared fer yer safety. He would never actually--”
“I absolutely would,” Kiyoomi interjects, glaring at Atsumu. “Don’t try me.”
At least it worked, Atsumu notes as Bokuto and Shouyou back away slowly from the edge of the cliff.
Adriah is taking photos of the view, while Inunaki attempts to photobomb. Meian stands nearby, a look of pure exhaustion written into his features.
“Let’s take a group photo!” Inunaki declares enthusiastically. “We can use a self-timer!”
“Good idea!” Says Barnes. “Want me to help you prop up your phone? You can use my water bottle!”
The two of them get to work positioning Inunaki’s phone while the rest of them arrange themselves into a semi-photogenic clump. Atsumu finds himself sandwiched between Adriah and Kiyoomi. As Inunaki presses the button and runs to get into position, Atsumu throws his arms around both Adriah and Kiyoomi, getting a loud protest out of Adriah and an elbow in the ribs from Kiyoomi.
Inunaki shares the photo with all of them when they arrive back at the campsite. Bokuto and Hinata are situated in the center, their height difference comically absurd, with Inunaki and Meian on the edges. Barnes, Adriah, Atsumu and Kiyoomi stand in the front, all of them stooping to make the back row more visible. Atsumu is hunched over in the photo, eyes bulging. Kiyoomi’s elbow isn’t visible from the angle at which the photo is taken, but Atsumu’s certain it’s buried in his side.
“What’s with the face, Tsum-Tsum?” Bokuto says, confused.
“Why don’tcha ask Omi,” Atsumu grumbles.
Kiyoomi says nothing, but looks far too smug for Atsumu’s taste.
After getting changed out of his sweaty clothing, Atsumu joins Adriah by the fire to cook dinner.
“Is stir fry good with you?” Adriah asks him, and Atsumu nods. “The spicier the better,” he says.
Adriah eyes him. “I’m not about to burn my tastebuds off, am I?”
Atsumu grins at him. “We’ll see about that.”
“Maybe add a bit less spice to Barnes’s portion,” Meian suggests as he gets out dishes and cutlery. “His poor British tastebuds can hardly stand the spice from black pepper.”
“I can hear you, you know!” Barnes yells from his and Inunaki’s tent. “My tastebuds are fine, thank you very much!”
Inunaki snickers. “Salt isn’t a spice, Barnes,” he says mockingly.
“I know that!” Says Barnes defensively. “And why aren’t you picking on Hinata, anyway? He can barely handle his spices, either!”
It’s true; Shouyou practically cries every time he so much as sees a chile pepper.
“I’m just sensitive!” Shouyou defends. “I feel bad for the poor pepper!”
“Is that why you cry when you cut onions, too?” Bokuto asks as if he’s honestly curious.
“Everyone cries cutting onions,” Shouyou argues.
“I don’t,” Atsumu says smugly. “Never have, never will.”
Meian eyes him suspiciously. “I don’t believe you.”
“I’ll prove it,” Atsumu tells him. He turns to Adriah. “Pass me that onion, wouldja?”
Adriah passes it over wordlessly, and Atsumu sets it on the cutting board. The rest of the group gathers around him curiously. Even Kiyoomi leaves their tent to see what all the fuss is about.
Atsumu dramatically holds the knife above the onion. “Y’all ready for this?”
“Just get it over with,” Adriah says.
Atsumu brings the knife down, slicing the onion cleanly in half. He cuts it down until it’s completely, expertly diced, and not a single tear falls from his eyes.
“What is this witchcraft?” Inunaki exclaims.
Atsumu smiles smugly. “I toldja so.”
“Bravo,” drawls Kiyoomi. The group turns to him, and he says, “No, really. That was so impressive, you should enter in a talent show.”
Inunaki snickers. “I like when you’re mean, Sakusa,” he says, trying to rest his elbow on Kiyoomi’s shoulder. He’s too short to reach, so Sakusa shakes him off easily.
“Are ya sure ya like Omi mean? ‘Cause he can get a whole lot meaner than that,” Atsumu warns.
Inunaki eyes him. “You would know, wouldn’t you?”
Atsumu scowls. “I’ll have ya know, Omi and I are gettin’ along jus’ fine now,” he says. He turns to Kiyoomi, saying, “Right, Omi-kun?”
Kiyoomi shrugs. “I mean, neither of us have tried to kill each other recently, so that’s something.”
“And thank god for that,” Meian says. “Now could the cooks please get back to their jobs?” He looks at Adriah and Atsumu pointedly. “I’m getting hungry, and you all know what that means.”
Meian gets hangry like nobody’s business; it’s a well known fact on the team.
Atsumu salutes Meian. “Yes, sir!”
They finish cooking dinner around six PM, and Inunaki gets a fire going while being heavily supervised by Meian. The second Meian looks away, Inunaki starts chasing Bokuto around the campsite with a flaming stick, and Meian pretty much gives up authority to Barnes after that. “I’m too old for this,” Meian says wearily.
“I’m older than you,” Barnes protests.
“Fine, let Bokuto lead then, and see how well that goes,” Meian fires back. Barnes gulps and wisely chooses not to respond.
Once they’ve finished eating and cleaned up the campsite, the group files down to the beach to watch the sunset. It’s gorgeous, the sky aflame with oranges and purples and blues, and the water swimming with a million shades of red and green like one of those impressionist paintings Kiyoomi is so fond of. Atsumu takes a few photos to send to Osamu later, just so he can see what he’s missing. Not that he’ll care; he’s probably perfectly happy staying in on a Saturday night, watching tv and eating leftovers, alone. Sometimes Atsumu wonders if they’re really related, or if one of them is actually a changeling. It would be Osamu, he decides absently, staring at the dimming sun on the horizon.
He feels rather than hears Kiyoomi’s approach, and doesn’t really register his presence until he’s right beside Atsumu.
“What are you thinking about,” Kiyoomi says quietly.
“Changelings,” Atusmu blurts.
Kiyoomi gives him an odd look, and Atsumu backtracks. “I mean,” he says, “Osamu an’ I are real different, huh?”
“Do you wish he was here right now?” Kiyoomi says curiously.
Atsumu thinks for a moment before replying. “Nah,” he says. “I mean, I miss him, but it’s good fer us ta have time apart, I think.”
Kiyoomi nods slowly. “I think I get that,” he says. “Toya and I were never like you and Osamu, but we were pretty close, and being away from him at college was pretty hard at first. I’m still glad I went, though,” he adds hurriedly.
Atsumu chuckles. “I know. Ya wouldn’ really be yerself without that fancy education, after all.”
Kiyoomi surprises Atsumu with a small smile. “Probably not.”
Atsumu forces himself to look back at the water as he asks, “Are ya glad Motoya joined the league?”
“Of course,” Kiyoomi replies. “It’s fun, getting to play against him. I’m sure you feel the same about Suna,” he adds thoughtfully.
Atsumu nods. “Him an’ Aran both. They’re so strong that beatin’ them feels like a real accomplishment.”
“Kageyama too, I bet,” Kiyoomi says darkly. Then he snorts. “Remember how you used to antagonize him at All Japan?”
Atsumu laughs. “Didn’ realize ya noticed that.”
“It was hard not to,” Kiyoomi says. “Either way, I don’t blame you for it. Kageyama was--well, it wasn’t really his fault, he just sort of lacked social skills.”
“Yeah, didn’ he call ya ‘normal’ that one time?” Atsumu says, snorting.
“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” says Kiyoomi. “Hearing that got on my nerves for the longest time, I swear to god.”
“Ya had ta know it wasn’ true, though, right? I mean, there’s nothin’ normal about ya,” Atsumu reasons.
Kiyoomi has a funny look on his face when he says, “I guess I knew, but it was hard to convince myself back then.”
“Yer convinced now, though?” Atsumu confirms.
“Of course,” Kiyoomi says seriously. “There’s nothing normal about my ‘freaky wrists’, as you’ve always said.”
“S’not jus’ yer wrists,” Atsumu says impulsively. After tense a pause he adds, “But yeah, they are pretty freaky.”
Kiyoomi huffs a laugh. “There it is.”
They stand in silence for a bit, watching as the last streaks of pink and red fade from the clouds, the sun fully fallen behind the distant horizon.
As the sky above them darkens, Atsumu and Kiyoomi follow the rest of the group back to the campsite.
Once they’re safely back in their tent, Atsumu changes into sweats, adding a hoodie over his long sleeve because it’s somehow even colder than he thought it’d be. Kiyoomi is equally bundled, already swaddled in the extra blankets he brought as well as his sleeping bag.
“Ya look like a livin’ burrito,” Atsumu muses as he examines Kiyoomi’s getup. “A really mean one.”
Kiyoomi glares at him. “You’re just jealous that I have all these layers,” he retorts.
“I don’ need ‘em,” Atsumu fires back. He climbs into his sleeping bag, aiming their sole flashlight at himself. “See? Toasty.”
He shuts off the light, and they lie there in silence for several minutes before Atsumu begins to shiver.
When his teeth start chattering, Kiyoomi says, “Are you fucking with me right now? You’d better not be fucking with me, because I want to go to bed.”
“N-no,” Atsumu stutters, still shivering. “Ya c-can’t make this shit up, Omi.”
“ You could,” Kiyoomi mutters. “Ugh. Fine.”
Something soft and heavy hits Atsumu in the face.
“Yer...g-given’ me one of y-yer blankets?” Atsumu says, surprised.
“I don’t want you to freeze,” Kiyoomi says matter of factly, “although sometimes I think you deserve to. I’ve never even been camping before, and even so I managed to bring enough layers to stay warm. Just saying.”
Atsumu scoffs. “Ya don’ have ta give me the blanket if yer jus’ gonna bitch about it.”
“I’m done now,” Kiyoomi replies. “Just had to get it out of my system.”
Atsumu rolls his eyes, even though it’s much too dark for Kiyoomi to see him. Then he wraps the blanket around himself, relishing the warmth that begins to grow around his limbs.
“Happy now?” Says Kiyoomi.
“Yeah. Thanks, Omi-kun. Yer a life saver,” Atsumu says sleepily.
“Good night, Atsumu.”
“G’night, Om--Kiyoomi.”
Atsumu wakes up sweaty. He blames Kiyoomi for lending him the spare blanket, and says as much to his face.
“You’re complaining because I lent you a blanket when you were cold? Typical,” Kiyoomi scoffs.
“Yeah, well, I would’ve been fine without yer help!”
Kiyoomi ignores him in favor of calmly stripping off his clothes directly in front of Atsumu to get ready for the day, and yes, Atsumu’s seen his body enough that he should be desensitized by now, but they’re in a very small tent and now Atsumu is having a crisis.
“Stop being weird,” Kiyoomi tells him when he looks up to find Atsumu staring at him. He hip-checks Atsumu out of the way so he can leave the tent, and Atsumu is left staring after him. “ Yer weird!” He sputters out, a few seconds too late. Kiyoomi ignores him, crossing the campsite to join Meian by the fire.
Atsumu throws a clean pair of pants on and follows Kiyoomi out of the tent. Barnes and Shouyou are both up as well, Barnes sipping coffee with hooded eyes and Shouyou meditating in a patch of sunlight at the edge of the clearing.
“Oh, good, you’re up,” Meian says, glancing at Atsumu as he approaches the fire. “Could you make us all some oatmeal? Supplies are under the picnic table.”
“That’s all yer gonna say ta me? No ‘good mornin’?” Atsumu demands.
“Good morning. Make us breakfast,” Meian says, shoving a box of oats in Atsumu’s face.
“No one appreciates me around here.” Atsumu mutters as he starts the oatmeal. He grabs milk from the cooler--lactaid, since Shouyou and Adriah are lactose intolerant--and apples from the bag beside it. He dices the apples quickly before sauteing them in butter, brown sugar and cinnamon. He cooks the oats separately, only combining the separate dishes when each is fully done.
Once Atsumu’s scooped the food into eight plastic bowls, he takes the empty pot and pan and bangs them together over his head, sending chunks of oatmeal and butter flying. “Breakfast!” He hollers.
Kiyoomi glares at him, Meian yells at him, Inunaki yells at him, and Bokuto is too nice to yell at him but clearly wants to. Atsumu almost feels bad.
“Why,” groans Inunaki as he drags himself out of his and Barnes’s tent.
“Meian-san wanted me to make breakfast fer y’all,” Atsumu says sweetly. “Don’t ya think ya owe me a little thanks?”
“No,” says Inunaki bluntly.
“That smells good, Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto says, god bless him. He turns to yell at Shouyou, “Hey, Shou! Breakfast!”
Shouyou comes over after a minute, and the others gather at the picnic table as well as Atsumu passes out bowls.
“Okay, I actually forgive you for getting us up for this,” Adriah admits after a moment.
“I don’t,” Inunaki grumbles. “But it’s good, I guess.”
Kiyoomi chews his oatmeal for a long moment before announcing, “It’s passable.”
“Omiii!” Atsumu whines as the others cackle. “It’s more than passable an’ ya know it!”
“Think what you like,” is all Kiyoomi says to that. Still, Atsumu notices that he finishes the entire bowl, even though Kiyoomi’s not big on breakfast, so he must’ve done something right.
At eleven, the group goes to check out the beach.
They wear swimsuits, not because they plan on swimming (except for Inunaki, the little freak) but because they plan on practicing their beach volleyball skills. Apart from Shouyou, none of them have played competitively before, so this could be...interesting.
They play four on fours, with Atsumu, Kiyoomi, Barnes and Meian against Shouyou, Bokuto, Adriah and Inunaki. The other team has a clear advantage, with Shouyou on their side, and a libero as well.
Then again, they don’t have Atsumu or Kiyoomi.
Not that the rest of the team isn’t doing their part--Meian’s blocks are excellent, if a bit stunted by the momentum-killing sand beneath their feet, and Barnes’s spikes are powerful as ever, when he manages to connect.
Still, the set leaves them with a score of 25-21 in favor of Shouyou’s team.
Their energy runs out after a single set; most of them aren’t used to having to run and jump on an unsteady, shifting surface, and are still sore from their hike the previous day as well.
Inunaki runs off to get in the water with Adriah supervising while Shouyou and Bokuto build a sand fort. Meian, Barnes, Kiyoomi and Atsumu lay out on towels, napping and trying not to burn too badly. Kiyoomi must be wearing layers upon layers of sunscreen, Atsumu realizes, to be able to lay out without a shirt on. His skin is so pale, dotted with moles all over, making Atsumu wonder if Kiyoomi’s any more likely to get skin cancer--
“--Tsumu,” Kiyoomi is saying. “You’re zoning out again, aren’t you?” He sounds mildly concerned.
“Uh,” Atsumu says, shaking his head, “sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Kiyoomi says. “What were you thinking about?”
Atsumu flounders. “Moles,” he blurts eventually. Kiyoomi raises a brow, and he clarifies, “I wonder if there’s any moles ‘round here. Ya know, like the animal?”
“I know what a mole is, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says, sounding amused.
“Right,” says Atsumu, rubbing the back of his neck. “Of course ya do.”
He thinks he hears Meian snicker quietly, but he can’t be sure.
They play another set of beach volleyball before heading back to the campsite for lunch, and after they’re done eating they laze around the campsite, talking about how much they miss their beds, and television, and wifi.
“I’d kill fer a drink right ‘bout now,” Atsumu declares.
“We have liquor,” Barnes offered. Inunaki shoots a glare at him and he grimaces. “I mean, no we don’t,” he tries, but the damage has been done.
“Barnes-san!” Bokuto hollers. “You’ve been holding out on us!”
“That liquor was supposed to be for the older members only,” Adriah grumbles. “Look what you’ve done now, Barnes.”
“Don’ feel too bad, Barnes,” says Atsumu. “Now ya get ta drink with us!”
“Oh, joy,” Meian deadpans.
Barnes and Shouyou pour out glasses of whisky and rum, even though it’s 3:30 in the afternoon on a Sunday. Atsumu throws his drink back almost instantly, feeling the pleasant burn of it in his throat. Kiyoomi, who’s sitting next to him, sips his slowly, contemplatively.
Inunaki gets a fire going, and the group slowly migrates to camping chairs over the course of a few drinks. Atsumu’s on his third before he knows it, and his body feels warm and loose.
“You should probably slow down,” Kiyoomi says in his ear. “Wouldn't want a repeat of last time.”
“Ya mean that time I puked in front of ya or the time I challenged ya ta a karaoke battle?” Atsumu slurs.
“How about either,” Kiyoomi suggests hopefully.
“I dunno, though,” Atsumu muses, “the karaoke one was kinda fun. Even if I kinda really hated ya back then.”
Kiyoomi’s mouth turns up at the corners. “Yes, I remember,” he agrees. “You had every reason to.”
Atsumu wants to say that’s not true, but it kind of is, isn’t it? He would be justified--somewhat--if he hated Kiyoomi even now.
He doesn’t, though.
Atsumu ponders that throughout his fourth drink, and throughout dinner as well. It’s not until they’re lying in their tent hours later that he finally says something.
“Hey, O--Kiyoomi?” He says carefully.
“Yes?” He hears, rather than sees, Kiyoomi shift towards him.
“Uh,” he says, “I jus’ wanted ta know...why do ya wanna be my friend?”
There’s a silence, and then Kiyoomi says, “You’re kidding, right?”
“No,” Atsumu admits, “I’m not.”
Kiyoomi hesitates before saying, “I don’t really know, but you’re the most honest liar I’ve ever met, and I want to have you on my side.” He pauses. “Does that make sense?”
“Not really, no,” Atsumu tells him, “but thanks, anyway.”
“Sure.”
Atsumu drifts off at some point, and when he wakes up the next morning, his hand is loosely linked with Kiyoomi’s.
Notes:
Who had ‘Atsumu had a passing crush on Hinata’ on their sakuatsu bingo? (tent sharing, too)
Also I cannot resist a good camping chapter can u tell
Chapter Text
“I’m givin’ up,” Atsumu says irritably, collapsing onto the sofa. “It’s been good, Omi. See ya in another life.”
“You can’t leave,” Kiyoomi states. “You said we’d see this through.”
“No, I said I’d watch ya fail , not fail with ya,” Atsumu corrects.
On the coffee table beside him sits a puzzle. An enormous, 1,000+ piece white-on-white puzzle.
“I mean,” Atsumu continues, “I thought fer a minute there that Meian was jus’ tryin’ ta fuck with ya, and’ I’m startin’ ta think I’m right.”
“Meian would only do something like that to you,” Kiyoomi points out. “He likes me, remember?”
“God knows why,” mutters Atsumu. Kiyoomi’s tempted to throw a puzzle piece at his face, except that would start an all out war and that’s the last thing he wants. Instead of giving into the impulse, he flicks Atsumu’s forehead.
“Ow!” Atsumu yelps. “That’s it, I’m leavin’.” He tries to stand, but Kiyoomi shoves him back down. “You said you were going to watch me fail,” he reminds Atsumu. “So watch.”
“Ooh, does Omi like it when I watch him?” Atsumu teases.
“I like proving you wrong,” Kiyoomi replies, “and I’d like for you to witness it firsthand.”
“Same thing,” Atsumu says dismissively. “How do ya even start this thing?”
“Well, first you have to make sure all of the pieces are right-side-up,” Kiyoomi tells him, turning over pieces as he does. “After that, you find the corners, and then the edges. The hard part’s having to fill in the rest.”
“Yer gonna faaail,” Atsumu sings.
Kiyoomi ignores him as he lays out the corners. He begins putting the edge pieces into a pile, and when he’s done with that he begins collecting the slightly-off-white pieces that belong to the tilted square part of the puzzle.
“I’m bored,” Atsumu whines. “Why is puzzlin’ so damn slow?”
“It’s meditative,” Kiyoomi tries to explain. “It’s like knitting. You put on music, you pass the time, and--”
Atsumu snaps his fingers. “That’s what we’re missin’!”
“Huh?”
“Music!” He exclaims. He grabs his phone and connects it to the aux cord beneath the television, frowning as he scrolls through his music. “How do ya feel ‘bout early 2000’s American pop, Omi-kun?”
Kiyoomi sighs. “Does it really matter how I feel?”
“‘Course it does!” Atsumu replies instantly. “Yer the one puzzlin’, after all.”
“Okay, then,” Kiyoomi says, thinking. “What about Flavien Berger? Ever heard of him?”
“Flavi-what now?” Atsumu says, confused.
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “Give me the phone, Atsumu.”
Atsumu passes it over wordlessly. Kiyoomi considers his options for a moment before deciding on Contre-Temps . He presses play and hands the phone back to Atsumu as the opening notes of the song filter through the speakers mounted on either side of the tv.
“This is pretty,” Atsumu admits, glancing down at the album cover. Then his jaw drops. “It’s fifteen minutes long? How?”
“It changes a lot,” Kiyoomi defends. “You’ll see.”
True to his word, Atsumu respects Kiyoomi’s choice and listens to the song all the way through, occasionally commenting on the parts he likes. When the song begins its final transition, Atsumu falls quiet. Kiyoomi glances up from his puzzle to find Atsumu staring at the wall.
“You alright?” Kiyoomi says, eyebrow raised.
“Yeah,” Atsumu says after a moment. “What didja say this song was called?”
“It’s on your phone, dumbass,” Kiyoomi points out.
“Oh. Right,” Atsumu says, still sounding out of it. “I’m gonna queue up another song by the artist, if that’s okay with ya,” he says.
“That’s fine,” Kiyoomi replies, a bit surprised.
Atsumu puts on Pamplemousse next, another one of Kiyoomi’s favorites. Atsumu is uncharacteristically quiet as he watches Kiyoomi work on the puzzle. He looks thoughtful, and a bit lost.
When the next song ends, Kiyoomi says, “I think I’m done for now. We can pick back up again tomorrow.” He’d gotten all of the edges put together, and had begun filling in the lower left corner. Atsumu examines his work and says, “Damn, Omi, ya work fast. I guess I’m impressed.”
“Still think I can’t finish it?” Kiyoomi says, prodding at Atsumu.
“No,” Atsumu admits, “but I’m still gonna watch.”
“That’s fine,” Kiyoomi says.
After a pause Atsumu says, “Well, I should probably get ta bed.”
Kiyoomi nods. “Me too.”
They head upstairs together, parting ways when they reach their doors. Kiyoomi feels oddly unsettled as he says goodnight to Atsumu. Something feels off, but Kiyoomi’s not sure what.
He finds out soon enough when Atsumu doesn’t come downstairs the following morning.
“Should we check on him?” He says to Bokuto. Hinata and Inunaki look concerned as well.
“Let him sleep,” Bokuto says. “We can visit him after practice. I’ll tell Foster he’s…” Bokuto trails off, and Kiyoomi nods. “Should I let Osamu know?”
“Sure,” says Bokuto. “Atsumu probably won’t think of it.”
“I’ll swing by the restaurant after practice,” Kiyoomi promises.
Practice is...dull, without Atsumu there to antagonize Kiyoomi. Also, their backup setter sucks. Kae’s not actually bad at setting, but he’s pretty bad at communicating, and that counts for a lot in volleyball. He’s never really around, either; he hasn’t participated in a single group activity this season, claiming that he doesn’t have to because he’s ‘just a reserve’. It really pisses Kiyoomi off.
He misses Atsumu’s sets. He misses the way they connect with his hand so perfectly, and the way Atsumu says, every time, “Didja like that one, Omi-kun?” Even though they both know it was flawless.
He misses Atsumu.
Kiyoomi wonders when Atsumu became such a fixture in his life. He really couldn’t say when, if someone were to ask him; but somehow, it was as if their fight had brought them closer.
That wasn’t exactly it, though, was it? It wasn’t the fight, it was their willingness to make up. It was the fact that they both cared enough to move on, and somehow that had turned into a real friendship, one unlike any other Kiyoomi’s ever had.
After practice, Kiyoomi swings by Onigiri Miya on his way back to the sharehouse. It’s not exactly on the way, and Kiyoomi could just as easily text Osamu to let him know about the situation, but Kiyoomi’s hungry, and he knows Atsumu likely hasn’t eaten anything yet today.
When Kiyoomi gets to the restaurant, he seats himself and waits for Osamu to notice him. He comes out after a moment, smiling warmly at Kiyoomi. “How’re ya,” he drawls, his voice so achingly similar to Atsumu’s.
“Good,” Kiyoomi replies. His face must have tipped Osamu off, because he heaves a sigh and says, “Tsumu’s not doin’ so good, huh?”
“It’s just today,” Kiyoomi explains. “He hasn’t left his room.”
Concern flashes across Osamu’s features. “Ya came all the way here ta tell me that?”
“I...wanted to bring him something to eat, actually,” Kiyoomi admits, staring at the table. “I’ll pay, of course.”
“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” Osamu says instantly. “God knows ‘Tsumu’s mooched off me enough in the past, I’m pretty used ta it by now.”
Kiyoomi smiles. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” Osamu promises, and Kiyoomi nods. Osamu disappears into the back, and when he returns he passes Kiyoomi a brown paper bag. It’s fairly heavy, and Kiyoomi frowns at the weight. “Are you sure he’ll want to eat all this? He might not have much of an appetite.”
“‘S fer ya,” Osamu explains, “an’ the guys. ‘Tsumu told me ya like umeboshi, so I packed a couple of those. They’re packaged separately,” he adds.
“Atsumu told you that?” Kiyoomi says, surprised.
“Yeah, that idiot never stops talkin’ about ya,” Osamu grumbles. “I think he’s just real happy yer finally gettin’ along.”
“I’m happy, too,” Kiyoomi tells him.
Osamu smiles, and Kiyoomi thinks it looks a bit wistful. “I know. Thanks fer takin’ care of ‘Tsumu, and feel free ta text me if he needs anythin’.”
“I will,” Kiyoomi promises. “Thank you.”
He finds Bokuto, Hinata and Inunaki in the sharehouse kitchen when he returns. “I brought lunch,” he announces, setting down the bag and passing out portions. He leaves his and Atsumu’s in the bag and says, “I’m going to take this to him.”
“Thanks, Omi,” Bokuto says, sounding grateful.
“Sure.” Kiyoomi climbs the stairs and raps twice on Atsumu’s door. When he hears no response, he tries the knob, and the door swings open.
Atsumu not locking his door is nothing unusual; he often leaves it open so that his friends can swing by. Still, Kiyoomi can’t help but feel like an intruder. The lights are off and the curtains drawn, and the room falls into total darkness when Kiyoomi shuts the door softly behind him.
“Atsumu?” He says warily. He hears a grunt and a rustle, and if he squints he can just make out Atsumu’s face. He approaches the bed slowly and takes a seat at the end. Atsumu’s eyes are shut, but he cracks them open when he feels the bed shift, and blinks sleepily up at Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi’s chest feels tight when he sees Atsumu’s eyes; they look empty.
“Hey,” he says softly, setting the paper bag on the bed beside him. “I brought food.”
Atsumu pushes himself to a sitting position. “Hey, Omi,” he says, sounding utterly exhausted. Kiyoomi doesn’t think he’s ever heard Atsumu sound so tired, even after playing a five set match.
Kiyoomi wordlessly passes over the bag. Atsumu glances down at it, and then back at Kiyoomi, understanding. “Ya went ta see Osamu?”
“I was hungry,” Kiyoomi replies.
“Ya told him?”
“Yeah,” Kiyoomi says, “I did.”
They’re silent for a moment, and then Atsumu tugs at the bag. He frowns and says, “Seems awful heavy fer one person.”
“Mine’s in there, too,” Kiyoomi explains. “I was going to eat with you. Only if you don’t mind, though.”
“‘Course not,” Atsumu says. He digs out a tuna onigiri before passing the bag back to Kiyoomi.
“Is this the first thing you’re eating today?” Kiyoomi asks him quietly.
Atsumu squints at him, looking defensive. “Yeah, what about it?”
“I’m not judging you,” Kiyoomi quickly clarifies. “Just curious.”
Atsumu relaxes a bit at that. “Yeah,” he says, “it is. Still not really hungry, but I know I should eat.”
Kiyoomi nods. “Just eat what you can. Don’t force it.”
“I won’t,” Atsumu tells him. Kiyoomi watches as he bites into the onigiri cautiously, as if he’s not sure he can take it. He looks so different. Kiyoomi hadn’t really seen him during his last episode, and although he’d taken care of him when he was drunk, he’d still seemed like himself. This is nothing like the Atsumu Kiyoomi knows.
Kiyoomi tears his eyes away and bites into his own onigiri. They chew in silence, Atsumu managing to finish off half an onigiri before calling it quits. Kiyoomi puts the leftovers into the bag and sets the bag on the ground.
“What’re ya doin’ here, Omi,” Atsumu says after a moment. He sounds weary, resigned.
Kiyoomi hesitates. “I...just wanted to see you,” he decides on. “I’m worried about you. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
Atsumu huffs an empty sounding laugh. ‘What’s the verdict, then? Am I okay?”
“No,” Kiyoomi says softly, “but you will be.”
Something flashes in Atsumu’s eyes, but it’s gone before Kiyoomi can process it.
“Hey, Omi?” Atsumu says slowly.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks fer checkin’ on me. Ya didn’ have ta do that.”
He did, though. Kiyoomi’s just not sure how to tell him that without making it sound like an obligation. “I wanted to,” Kiyoomi says finally. “So don’t worry about it.”
“Okay.”
“Do you want me to leave?” Kiyoomi checks.
Atsumu hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I like havin’ ya here. Do ya think...would ya mind tellin’ me ‘bout practice or somethin’? Jus’ ta keep my mind off things?”
Kiyoomi nods. “Of course.” He tells Atsumu about their three-on-three (his team won), and complains about all of Kae’s botched sets (“Go easy on him,” Atsumu scolds. “It’s not easy tryin’ ta follow in my footsteps.”) By the time he’s done recounting his day, Atsumu’s eyes are beginning to drift shut.
“Thanks fer stayin’ Omi,” he hears Atsumu mumble. “Ya can leave now, if ya want.”
“I’ll stay a bit longer,” Kiyoomi tells him. And he does, until well after Atsumu falls asleep. He stays and he watches the rise and fall of Atsumu’s chest, the exhaustion carved into the lines of his face.
He leaves an hour before he has to go to weight training.
When he meets up with the others downstairs to head to the gym, Bokuto says, “How is he?”
“Tired,” Kiyoomi says after a moment. “I think this is definitely a low-mood, low-energy one.”
Bokuto nods like he understands.
“Did he eat?” Hinata says.
“Half an onigiri,” says Kiyoomi, wincing. “He made an effort, at least.”
“Damn,” says Inunaki. “He’s really not himself right now, is he?”
Kiyoomi thinks back to Atsumu’s stilted, slow movements and empty eyes. “He’s not,” he agrees. “He’ll be okay, though.”
Atsumu misses practice the following morning, and weight training the following evening. Kiyoomi’s too busy to check on him until after weight training, but he goes to visit him as soon as he’s showered. He brings Atsumu some plain rice and tofu, and Atsumu actually manages to eat more than half of it before giving up.
“Thanks, Omi,” he says when he’s done. He sounds better today, Kiyoomi thinks. There’s more energy in his voice, and his eyes are more focused. Kiyoomi knows he’ll likely take tomorrow off, seeing as it’s Friday, and that way he’ll have the weekend to finish recovering. But maybe after…
“Hey, Atsumu?” He says without thinking.
“Yeah?”
“Uh.” Kiyoomi balks. “If you feel better this weekend, do you want to do something?”
Atsumu hesitates. “I dunno if I’m up fer a group hang at the bar jus’ yet,” he admits.
“It wouldn’t have to be,” Kiyoomi says quickly. “It could be just us. And no bars,” he adds.
“Huh. I...sure, Omi. If I feel better,” Atsumu replies. “Whaddya have in mind?”
Kiyoomi’s mind goes blank. “Um.”
Atsumu chuckles. “Ya didn’ think that far, didja?”
“No,” Kiyoomi admits.
“Have ya ever been ta the aquarium? Our Ma used ta bring us there whenever we visited the city,” Atsumu offers.
There’s no question which aquarium Atsumu is talking about; Osaka Aquarium Kaiyukan is the largest in the world, after all.
“I haven’t,” Kiyoomi admits.
Atsumu’s eyes widen. “Omi! How?”
“The ocean kind of scares me,” Kiyoomi explains. “It’s too...unfamiliar.”
“Well, we’re gonna change that, then,” Atsumu declares. “I mean, if it’s all right with ya.”
“It’s fine,” Kiyoomi tells him. “It’s about time I got over my dumb fear, anyway.”
“‘S not dumb,” Atsumu argues. “The ocean’s scary as fuck. Have I ever toldja ‘bout the time I almost drowned in less than a foot of water?”
Kiyoomi stares at him. “No.”
“Ta be fair,” Atsumu continues, “I was five, an’ the waves knocked me down so hard my head was pressed into the water. ‘Samu saved me, actually,” Atsumu adds, sounding proud of his brother.
“That’s terrifying,” Kiyoomi says. “How are you not more afraid of the ocean?”
“Oh, I am,” Atsumu replies. “I jus’ don’ let that stop me from havin’ fun. ‘Cause what’s the point in stressin’ ‘bout somethin’ so much bigger than yerself? It’s not like ya can control what it does. Ya can only control how ya respond to it.”
Kiyoomi thinks that might have been the most coherent thing he’s ever heard come out of Atsumu’s mouth. For a moment Kiyoomi wonders if Atsumu perhaps possesses a few more brain cells than Kiyoomi had previously assumed.
Then Atsumu says, “Hey, Omi, didja use ta pee in pools when ya were small? I bet ya did, ya seem like the type.”
There it is.
Kiyoomi glares at him. “I don’t even want to know what thought process brought you there.”
“It’s only natural! We were talkin’ bout water, after all, an’ pee’s basically water any--wait! Don’ leave, I’ll shaddup, I promise!”
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and sits back down on the bed. It’s not as if he could really leave Atsumu, even if he wanted to.
Saturday rolls around and Atsumu declares that he’s “Never felt better!” Kiyoomi thinks he probably just really wants to go to the aquarium, but whatever works.
The five of them eat breakfast together--Atsumu makes pancakes, humming something under his breath as he cooks. They’re delicious, of course. Kiyoomi would be surprised if he learned that there was something Atsumu couldn’t cook.
“What are y’all up to today?” Inunaki asks the group.
“I’m probably gonna practice some serves,” Hinata tells them. “My jump serve’s a little too whoosh and not enough wham, you know?”
Kiyoomi doesn’t. He glances at Atsumu, who just shrugs.
“Ooh, I might come with you, Shou,” Bokuto says. “I’ve been wanting to practice my receives, if you don’t mind practicing with me.”
“Of course not!” Hinata exclaims. “That would be awesome!” He turns to Atsumu. “What are you gonna do today, Tsum-Tsum?”
“Omi an’ I are goin’ ta the aquarium,” Atsumu announces.
“Ooh, I haven’t been there in ages!” Says Bokuto. “It’s weird, I almost forget about all of the cool things in the city now that I’m actually living here.”
“I know what you mean,” Inunaki agrees. “It’s easy to forget that we’re in such an interesting city, especially when all we do is train.”
“Yeah, I’m definitely excited to pretend I’m a tourist fer the day,” Atsumu says, “An’ Omi’s never even been!”
The group turns to stare at Kiyoomi.
“You what?” Inunaki practically screeches.
“How have you never been, Omi-san?” Hinata exclaims. “It’s so cool!”
Kiyoomi shrugs. “I’m not big on the ocean.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like you have to swim in an aquarium, ” Inunaki points out.
Kiyoomi huffs. “I’m aware. I just...never really thought about going before now.”
Inunaki turns to Atsumu. “Miya,” he says solemnly, “I am trusting you with Kiyoomi’s first aquarium experience. Do you think you’re up for the challenge?”
“I wouldn’tve asked him ta go if I weren’t,” Atsumu assures him.
“Dorks,” Kiyoomi mutters. To Atsumu he says, “Finish your breakfast, I want to get going soon.”
“So bossy, Omi-kun!”
They head to the aquarium at eleven, hoping to get there early enough to beat the weekend rush. They still have to wait in line, and Kiyoomi thinks he probably applies hand sanitizer at least five separate times by the time they make it to the front of the line. He’s wearing his mask, of course, but even so the crowds make him anxious.
“It’ll be less crowded once we’re in,” Atsumu says, leaning in so that Kiyoomi can hear him. “Don’ worry.”
“I’m not,” Kiyoomi lies, but he does relax a little.
Atsumu insists on paying for both of their tickets, because “No one should have ta pay fer their first time at the aquarium, Omi!” Kiyoomi indulges him, deciding that he’ll just buy Atsumu lunch later to pay him back, anyway.
Kiyoomi’s jaw drops the moment they enter the aquarium, and his eyes grow wide as they pass beneath the notorious Aqua Gate. It’s so immersive that Kiyoomi almost feels as if he could be underwater, except that he’s dry and can breathe, so it’s much better. Still, something about knowing that there’s real, living sea creatures over his head is both beautiful and terrifying.
Atsumu seems to agree, if the way he’s staring around them is any indication. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, following the path of a particularly colorful fish. If Kiyoomi didn’t know any better, he’d think that Atsumu was the one who’d never been here before.
Then Atsumu turns his gaze on Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi can see the colors of the Aqua Gate reflected in his eyes, and his face is tinted blue, making him look like some otherworldly being.
Ethereal.
“What do ya think?” Atsumu says excitedly.
“It’s incredible,” Kiyoomi says, not taking his eyes off Atsumu.
Atsumu grins. “I knew ya’d like it,” he declares.
“We’re literally at the first exhibit,” Kiyoomi points out. “I could hate the rest.”
“Yeah, but ya won’t,” Atsumu says confidently.
Kiyoomi knows he’s right.
The next exhibit they visit is the Japan Forest one, which is basically a replica of a forest complete with a river teeming with fish, among other animals that live near water. The otters are probably Kiyoomi’s favorites; they’re just so cuddly looking, even though Kiyoomi knows they could probably give him rabies or something.
They meander through the aquarium, stopping at least briefly at every exhibit. Atsumu points at everything, and Kiyoomi has to stop him from tapping on the glass on multiple occasions. He can’t seem to help himself; he just gets so excited, his eyes full of childlike wonder.
At one point he starts pointing out fish that look like their teammates. Hinata’s a clown fish, Bokuto’s the one with all the spikes (Kiyoomi doesn’t bother to learn its name, referring to it only as ‘Bokuto Fish’ in his head). Atsumu points at a grouchy looking blobfish next. “Look, Omi, it’s ya!” He says, dodging Kiyoomi as he tries to hit him in retaliation.
Kiyoomi eventually decides that the jellyfish are his favorites. They’re so lovely, and somehow delicate, despite their harsh environment. They seem like nothing that Kiyoomi imagines the ocean to be.
When they arrive at the gift shop, Atsumu disappears, and Kiyoomi almost panics until he remembers that this is Atsumu, so of course he’ll come back for Kiyoomi.
And he does, carrying a ridiculously soft, ridiculously cute stuffed otter.
“Here,” Atsumu says, passing the otter to Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi is speechless. “You--”
“I noticed ya starin’ at the otters in that one exhibit,” Atsumu explains. “An’ she’s jus’ so cute, right?” He peers at Kiyoomi’s face anxiously. “Ya do like her, right? ‘Cause I don’ really wanna return her--”
“I like her,” Kiyoomi says quickly, hugging the otter to his chest. Atsumu grins. “Good, ‘cause ya look damn cute together. Here, lemme take a picture,” he says, directing Kiyoomi to stand in front of a smallish fish tank decorating the gift shop’s wall. “Say ‘cheese’!” Atsumu tells Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi hugs the otter tighter and glares at Atsumu as he takes the photo.
He comes over to see the photo, and scowls when he sees how grouchy he looks. “Why do I look like that?” He grumbles.
Atsumu cackles. “Ya look like a mama otter protectin’ her baby!” He gets out in between bouts of laughter.
“Delete that,” Kiyoomi demands.
“Nope,” Atsumu says smugly. “It’s mine now. Plus I already sent it ta yer cousin, so don’ even try deletin’ it off my phone.”
“You sent it to Motoya?” Kiyoomi screeches. “When did you even get his number?”
Atsumu shrugs. “After skatin’, I think? He told me ta send him pics of ya every now and then ‘cause ya never do.”
It’s true, Kiyoomi could do a better job of keeping in touch with Motoya. Still, Kiyoomi can’t believe his cousin and Atsumu are friends now. Ugh, what a nightmare.
“Are ya hungry?” Atsumu asks him, drawing him from his thoughts. “‘Cause I could eat.”
“Me too,” Kiyoomi agrees. “What are you feeling?”
“Hmm. Maybe sushi?” Atsumu suggests.
Kiyoomi snorts. “Sure.”
They find a restaurant not too far from the aquarium that lives up to Kiyoomi’s hygiene standards and Atsumu’s taste--he denies being a picky eater, but Kiyoomi knows he secretly is.
They head home after lunch, debating which fish they’d seen would win in a fight. “Obviously a shark would win,” Atsumu argues.
“That’s such an easy answer, though,” Kiyoomi points out. “Some of the jellyfish are pretty tough. I think they could take a shark.”
“Why would a jellyfish fight a shark?” Atsumu says as if it’s the dumbest thing he’s ever heard.
Kiyoomi barely refrains from rolling his eyes, but he manages, somehow.
When they arrive at the sharehouse, they find the living room empty. Inunaki’s probably either out or in his room, and Hinata and Bokuto are likely still practicing. Kiyoomi wonders what it’s like to have that much energy.
“Whaddya wanna do now?” Atsumu asks him, flopping down on the sofa.
“I don’t know,” Kiyoomi says as he takes the other end. He’s still holding the otter, who he’s decided to name Akua, in honor of the magnificent Aqua Gate.
Atsumu hums. “Maybe we could watch somethin’?”
“Maybe,” Kiyoomi says slowly. Then he says, “Or, we could start looking for a therapist.”
Atsumu stiffens almost imperceptibly. “I mean,” Kiyoomi says quickly, “we don’t have to do that now now, but--”
“Nah, it’s okay,” Atsumu replies. “I gotta do it sometime, an’ I’d rather do it when I’m feelin’ good, ya know?”
Kiyoomi nods. “That makes sense.”
He goes to grab his laptop from his room, depositing Akua on his bed on the way out. When he returns to the living room, Atsumu’s curled up on the sofa, looking oddly vulnerable.
Kiyoomi sits beside him, close enough that he’ll be able to see the screen and says, “Are you sure this is okay?”
Atsumu nods, relaxing incrementally. “Yeah,” he says, “I’d rather get it done anyway.”
They type Atsumu’s insurance into the search bar along with ‘bipolar disorder therapist’. There are almost too many options, and yet it’s possible that none of them could be right for Atsumu.
They end up finding three options that seem promising. The first one lives close to their gym, but only does teletherapy, so Atsumu rules her out almost instantly. “I’d rather talk ta someone in person, ya know?” He tells Kiyoomi.
The second one ends up being out of his price range, even with insurance. Kiyoomi thinks it’s kind of ridiculous that they’re pro athletes and still can barely afford necessary medical expenses.
The third therapist seems like a good match. He’s youngish, lives not too far from the sharehouse, and is relatively affordable. Atsumu writes down the number, promising to call him during office hours on Monday.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Kiyoomi asks him once they’re done.
Atsumu laughs awkwardly, “Nah, I’m good. ‘Sides, I don’ wanna inconvenience ya further, ya know?”
Kiyoomi frowns. “Atsumu,” he says seriously, “you know that I don’t do things I don’t want to do, right?”
“‘Course,” Atsumu replies instantly.
“So when I choose to help you, it’s not because I feel obligated to,” Kiyoomi continues. “I help you because I care about you.”
Atsumu laughs. “Ya sure ‘bout that, Omi? I know I’m a lot ta handle sometimes,” he says, not quite meeting Kiyoomi’s eyes.
“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says again. “Look at me.” When Atsumu meets his eyes, he says, calmly, “Do I seem like I’m not sure?”
Atsumu shakes his head.
“Okay, then,” Kiyoomi says. “You’re not ‘too much’. And if you were, I promise I’d tell you. Do you believe me?”
Atsumu nods.
“Great. Now stop being so fucking cautious around me, I hate it,” Kiyoomi says bluntly.
Atsumu laughs, a real one this time. “Sure thing, Omi.”
Notes:
Look: I'm sure that therapy is probably far more affordable in Japan than it is in the US, however I am basing Atsumu's experience off of mine, and my experience finding therapy has been...the worst fucking thing (so honestly I am being kinda nice to Atsumu in comparison) anywayyy just thought I'd throw that in there
also if you haven't heard the song Contre-Temps by Flavien Berger go listen right now it's beautiful and you won't regret it
Chapter Text
“ How’re things?”
Atsumu puts the phone on speaker so that he’ll be able to hear Osamu while he chops vegetables for dinner.
“Good,” he responds after a moment. “Much better than last week.”
“ That’s good ta hear. It was nice knowin’ ya had yer teammates ta look after ya. I’m glad ya trust ‘em with that.”
“Me too,” Atsumu agrees. “Omi was super helpful. Did I tell ya he helped me find a therapist?”
There’s a pause, and then Osamu says, “ I didn’ know ya were lookin’ fer one.”
“Yeah, well, me neither,” Atsumu admits. “I wasn’t plannin’ on it, but Bokkun and Omi convinced me it’d be a good idea. I have an appointment next Thursday, actually.”
“Nice,” Osamu drawls. “Maybe they’ll help ya finally get yer head screwed on right.”
Atsumu snorts. “Let’s hope so.”
“ So things are generally good with Sakusa, then?”
“Yeah, they’re great,” Atsumu says casually. “We went to the aquarium on Saturday, did I tell ya?”
“ Yes, literally three times,” Osamu replies. “ Does this mean yer datin’?”
The knife slips, and Atsumu nearly cuts himself. “What? No. Where’d ya get that idea?”
“ Are ya--yer fuckin’ with me.”
“I’m not,” Atsumu protests. “We’re just hangin’ out. I don’ know what made ya think we’re datin’--”
“Tsumu. Ya literally went on a date.”
“Friends can go to aquariums together,” Atsumu argues, sweeping the chopped vegetables into the pot.
“ Didn’ ya, like, buy him a stuffed seal or somethin’?”
“Otter. And yes, but only because he was, like, obsessed with them,” Atsumu counters.
“ Do ya even hear yerself right now?” Osamu says incredulously.
“We’re not dating,” Atsumu emphasizes. “Even if I wanted ta, I’m pretty sure Omi wouldn’ be interested.”
“ Won’ know until ya ask.”
“I’m not about ta be the one ta throw a wrench in our friendship,” Atsumu states. “So stop askin’.”
Osamu sighs. “ I really wish ya’d get yer shit together,” he says. “ Yer pinin’ isn’t attractive, I hope ya know.”
“I’m not pinin’, I’m--” Atsumu breaks off as Kiyoomi rounds the corner. “I gotta go,” he says to Osamu.
“ What, did Sakusa jus’ show up? Oh my god, he totally did. Hey, Sakusa!” Osamu yells.
Kiyoomi comes over to stand beside Atsumu. “Hey, Osamu,” he says. “How are you?”
“Fine,” Osamu replies. “Jus’ tired of listenin’ ta his whiny ass, if ya know what I mean.”
“Hey!”
“I do,” Sakusa replies.
“ Hey!”
“Anyway,” Osamu continues, “ I should get goin’. Don’ forget ta get yer ticket fer this weekend,” he reminds Atsumu. They’ll be going home for a couple of days to visit their parents. Some of their old teammates--including Kita, Suna, Aran, Akagi, Ren and Gin--are going to be back as well, so it’ll be a reunion of sorts.
“I won’t forget,” Atsumu promises.
“ ‘ Kay. Nice talkin’ ta ya. Well, nice talkin’ ta Sakusa, anyway. Can’t say the same fer ya.”
Atsumu scowls and hangs up the phone before Osamu can say anything to further embarrass him. He glances up at Kiyoomi, who’s watching the vegetables boil. “What were you whining about?” He asks Atsumu curiously.
“Eh. The usual,” Atsumu says vaguely. “What are ya doin’ down here so early?”
Kiyoomi shrugs. “Maybe I like watching you cook.”
Atsumu raises a brow, and Kiyoomi sighs. “Fine. I was on the phone with Toya, and he was being annoying, so I told him I had to go help cook dinner. Then I felt weird staying in my room, so.”
“What was he bein’ so annoyin’ about?” Atsumu says.
“Oh, you know,” Kiyoomi says, waving a hand dismissively. “Things.”
Atsumu narrows his eyes. “Right.”
“Anyway,” Kiyoomi says, abruptly changing the subject, “can I help?”
“Sure. Could ya grab me those spices?”
They finish making dinner together before letting the others know that it’s ready. As they wait for the others, Kiyoomi says, “So you’re going home this weekend?”
Atsumu nods. “Just fer a couple of days. I’ll be missin’ practice Monday mornin’, but I’ll be back by the evenin’.”
“Cool.”
They sit in silence until Shouyou bursts into the room, energetic as ever. “Hey, guys!” He chirps. “What did you make?”
“Soup,” Atsumu replies. “Bon appetit .”
Kiyoomi snorts. “You said that wrong,”
“Oh yeah? Ya speak French now?” Atsumu retorts.
“Only what I picked up in high school,” Kiyoomi replies.
“That’s so cool, Omi-san!” Shouyou exclaims. “How do you say “Shouyou is cool” in French?”
Kiyoomi sighs. “ Shouyou est cool. ”
“Ooh! Do me!” Atsumu says.
Kiyoomi just looks at him. “Are you serious?”
“Yep!”
“Okay,” Kiyoomi says, “Atsumu est un crétin.”
Atsumu frowns. “Why did that sound different?”
“Because you have different names,” Kiyoomi says, eyes glinting.
“Are ya sure, because--”
“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto yells from the hallway. “Sorry I’m late, I only just saw the text. I was napping pretty hard!”
“Bokkun!” Atsumu cheers. “Do you know if Inunaki will be joining us?”
“I think he’s out with that girl he’s been seeing,” Bokuto says, frowning. “Can’t believe he’s ditching us!”
“Yeah,” echoes Shouyou, pouting. “Tsum-Tsum, Omi-san, promise us you’re not gonna ditch us if you get in a relationship!”
Atsumu snorts as Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “I promise,” Atsumu says solemnly.
They all look at Kiyoomi. “You really think I’d ditch you all for a relationship?” He says dryly.
“ Omi-san,” Shouyou whines, “promise us.”
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “Fine. I promise.”
“Good,” says Bokuto, sounding satisfied. “Now can we please eat dinner? I haven’t eaten in, like, an hour at least.”
“Sure thing, Bokkun,” Atsumu says indulgently. He serves up the food, and they begin to eat, Bokuto and Shouyou filling the room with aimless chatter.
“Oh, Tsum-Tsum,” Bokuto says suddenly, “you’re going home this weekend, right?”
“Yeah!” Says Atsumu enthusiastically. He takes a giant bite of rice before saying, “Wern gonna thake a clath together, I thinkth.”
“I cant hear you, but I’m certain you’re saying something stupid,” Kiyoomi says.
Atsumu scowls at him and swallows. “I said,” he repeats, “that we’re going to take a class. Kita signed us up for something.”
“That’s so cool, Tsum-Tsum!” Says Shouyou enthusiastically. “What kind of class?”
“I have no idea,” says Atsumu honestly. “Suna just texted me yesterday and said something about an activity-related class and also, I quote, ‘to bring the shortest pair of booty shorts I own’.”
Kiyoomi chokes. “What...what kind of class--” he wheezes.
“No idea,” Atsumu says again. “Maybe a dancin’ thing?”
“What time do you leave on Saturday?” Bokuto says.
“Early,” Atsumu says vaguely. “Nine, maybe?”
“That’s not early,” Kiyoomi scoffs. “Seven is early.”
“Says ya, the worst mornin’ person I know ‘part from Inunaki,” Atsumu retorts. “I’ll probably be gone before yer even awake.”
Something flashes in Kiyoomi’s eyes. “Fine, then,” he fires back. “I guess I’ll have to make sure I’m awake before you leave.”
“Isn’t this kind of a pointless competition?” Atsumu hears Shouyou whisper to Bokuto.
“Yes, but just let it happen,” Bokuto whispers back. “Nothing we say will get through to them, anyway.”
On Saturday morning, Kiyoomi is indeed awake when Atsumu brings his duffel bag downstairs. He has bags under his eyes and his hair is smooshed flat on one side and sticking up like he’d put his finger in an electrical socket on the other. He looks like shit.
“Ya look like shit,” Atsumu says bluntly.
Kiyoomi scowls. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m not really a morning person.”
“Why’re ya up then?”
“I said I would be,” Kiyoomi says simply.
Atsumu snorts. “Yer ridiculous.”
“Whatever. Did you pack your booty shorts?” Kiyoomi taunts.
“Shaddup,” Atsumu grumbles. “I don’ even own a pair.”
Kiyoomi eyes him. “Uh huh.”
“Really!” Atsumu insists. “Closest thing I’ve got is my high school shorts, they’re pretty small at this point. Whatever. Suna can fuckin’ deal with it.”
Kiyoomi’s ears are red for some reason when he says, “Sure. Have fun.”
“Oh, I will,” Atsumu promises.
“Okay, then,” Kiyoomi says. “Bye, I guess.”
“What, no hug?” Atsumu jokes.
“Do you want one?”
Atsumu’s eyes grow wide. “Uh. If yer offerin’,” he says awkwardly.
Kiyoomi shrugs. “Sure.” He steps forward and grabs Atsumu’s shoulders, yanking Atsumu into a rough hug. It’s a little too tight and very, very forced, but Atsumu’s too shocked to process any of that.
“Jesus, Omi,” he complains breathlessly when Kiyoomi pulls away. “Couldja crush my bones a little less next time, maybe?”
“No,” Kiyoomi says bluntly. “Now, leave. You’ll miss your train.”
“That’s my Omi,” Atsumu says fondly, shouldering his duffel.
He barely makes it to the station in time. Osamu and Suna are both waiting for him just outside the train, Osamu staring anxiously at the clock on the wall while Suna taps away on his phone.
“Took you long enough,” Suna says, sounding bored. “Did you pack the booty shorts?”
“Fer the last time, I don’t own any!” Atsumu exclaims. “Why does everyone think that?”
“‘Cause it’s ya,” Osamu replies. “Now c’mon, we’re gonna miss the train.”
They board the train and find seats near the back. Atsumu claims a window seat, since he gets motion sick easily.
The trip to Hyogo is only about fifteen minutes by train, and then another fifteen minutes to get to their house. Suna will be staying with them for the time being, since his parents are both away on business trips and he’d rather not be staying in an empty house.
Atsumu and Osamu’s mother picks them up from the train station, smothering all of them (including Suna) in hugs and kisses. “I just missed y’all so much!” She blubbers, leading them back to where she’d parked the car. “How are y’all? Have ya eaten yet? Oh my gosh, I just made some banana bread, ya gotta try it!”
“We haven’ eaten yet,” Atsumu answers, “so that sounds great.”
“Yeah, thank you Miya-san,” Suna says.
“How many times have I toldja, call me Hanako!” Their mother scolds Suna.
“Hanako,” Suna corrects. “Thank you for letting me stay with you.”
“Aw, it’s no trouble, Sunarin,” their mother coos. “We’re always happy ta have ya, aren’t we?”
Atsumu rolls his eyes. “Sure,” he says sarcastically. “Happy.”
Suna snickers. “I’m sure you are.”
They stuff their faces with banana bread when they reach the Miya household before lazing around the living room, playing video games and texting the others about the class tomorrow. Atsumu’s still a bit apprehensive, seeing as he doesn’t know what the activity entails, but he can’t wait to catch up with his old friends.
About an hour later, he gets a text from Kiyoomi that says, ‘ Did you arrive in Amagasaki all right?’
‘A few hours ago, yeah,” Atsumu replies. ‘ How’re the gremlins faring without me?’
Kiyoomi replies after a few minutes. ‘ They’re currently trying to figure out how many bagels they can fit in the blender. I believe the words ‘bagel smoothie’ were mentioned’.
Uh oh.
‘ Good luck with that,’ Atsumu replies.
‘ Have you figured out what kind of class it is yet?’ Kiyoomi answers after a moment.
‘ Nope. Kita isn’t telling us shit,’ Atsumu responds.
‘ Pity. Tell me when you know, we have bets placed.’
‘What are y’all betting?’ Atsumu says curiously.
‘Bokuto thinks it’s ballet, Hinata thinks it’s tango lessons, and I think it’s probably some kind of modern hip hop class,’ Kiyoomi replies. ‘ So keep us posted.’
‘Will do.’
“Who’re ya textin’?” Osamu says, peering over his shoulder.
Atsumu puts away his phone. “Nobody.”
“Definitely Sakusa, then,” Osamu decides.
Suna ooohs. “What are you texting Sakusa about?”
Atsumu hesitates. “He jus’ wants to know what our class is gonna be, that’s all. All of ‘em are bettin’ on it, apparently.”
“You’ll know soon enough,” Suna says cryptically.
“What, did Kita tell ya?” Suna’s face remains impassive, and Atsumu gasps. “Oh my god, he totally did, didn’ he? Ugh. Blatant favoritism.”
Suna smirks. “You’re just jealous that you’ve never been, and never will be, Kita-san’s favorite.”
“So what if I am?”
“What, you still got a crush on him or something?” Suna taunts. He coughs. “ Captain kink.”
“Nah, he’s moved on,” Osamu comments.
Atsumu scowls. “Shaddup. Both of ya,” he grumbles. “I don’ need this right now.”
The three of them continue to hang out in the living room for the remainder of the afternoon. Hanako and Osamu make dinner together around seven, and then Atsumu sets up the spare futon for Suna.
Atsumu tosses and turns that night, struggling to fall asleep. He’s pretty bad at sleeping on a good night, and being back in his childhood bed isn’t helping. There’s something unsettling about being back here, as if he’s gone back in time or something. He misses his bed at the sharehouse. He misses his teammates.
He’s tired and cranky the following morning, chugging more than his usual amount of coffee. Suna and Osamu seem to notice, and mostly leave him alone, which Atsumu is grateful for.
They meet up with the rest of their friends around one. Even in his sleep deprived state, Atsumu’s happy to see his old friends. They meet at a cafe downtown for lunch, and Kita instructs them to eat something ‘light, but with a good amount of protein’.
“So, when are ya gonna tell us what ya got planned?” Atsumu says once they’re seated with their orders. He’s across the table from Kita, with Aran on his left and Gin on his right. Akagi, Ren, Osamu and Suna sit at the table adjacent to them.
Kita smiles cryptically. “Patience, Atsumu. All will become clear in time.”
“Only Kita-san could say that unironically,” Gin mutters to Atsumu, who snorts before withering under Kita’s answering glare.
“God, I forgot how scary he is,” he whispers to Gin, who just nods, eyes wide.
After lunch, Kita leads them to a nondescript, tan building a few blocks away. It looks like some kind of fitness center, offering classes ranging from weight training to aerial arts.
“Are we learnin’ trapeze?” Atsumu guesses.
Kita chuckles. “Close,” he says. Atsumu frowns, wondering what the hell that means.
Kita leads them to a changing room, where Atsumu proceeds to change into his old gym shorts that end up being much shorter than planned, as well as a tight-ish tank top (Kita had instructed them to wear something stretchy that won’t move around much). The others are dressed similarly, in shorts or leggings with tight t-shirts and tank tops.
Then, Kita brings out the heels.
“They’re mandatory,” he explains. The heels are tall, enough to make Atsumu uncomfortable wearing them. The ones he chooses are hot pink stilettos that lace up his legs.
Suna snickers when he sees Atsumu and snaps a picture on his phone. “You look ridiculous,” he informs Atsumu.
Atsumu scowls. “Shaddup. What do we need these fer, anyway?”
He finds out soon enough when the group enters the studio at the end of the hall. The room is lined with mirrors, with a smooth wooden floor. Colorful metal poles break the room into segments, and it takes Atsumu a moment to process the situation. When he does, his jaw drops to the floor. “Yer...we’re takin’ a pole dancin’ class?” He exclaims.
Kita smiles. “Yeah,” he says, “I figured it’d be good flexibility and strength trainin’ for all y’all volleyball players, ya know?”
“Yer somethin’ else, Kita-san,” Osami says, admiration clear in his voice.
“Thanks. Everyone can go ahead and claim a pole, the teacher should be here shortly.”
The teacher in question is a tiny woman who can’t be more than five feet tall who introduces herself as ‘Mei’.
“And don’t bother with honorifics,” she adds. “I like ta keep things casual.”
The class starts off slow, with them learning the basics, including how to climb the pole as it slowly spins, and eventually how to turn upside down as well. The second half of the class consists of learning choreography to the song ‘ Long Way 2 Go’ by Cassie, a classic 2000’s American pop song that Atsumu all but forgot about. The routine is fairly simple, the most complicated skill being an upside down split sort of thing that Atsumu takes forever to master. His pole is sandwiched between Gin and Akagi’s, both of whom are shockingly good at pole dancing.
At least I’m better than ‘Samu, Atsumu thinks smugly. His brother’s about as flexible as a brick, and it shows in every stilted movement of his routine. Kita and Aran are all right, while Ren is borderline terrible and Suna is kind of good. He’s not very passionate, but he’s super flexible, and that almost makes up for his bored demeanor.
“Pretty sure you’re supposed to be spinning while you do the split,” Atsumu overhears Suna remarking to Osamu. Atsumu snickers, and Osamu whips around to glare at him. If not for Mei’s calming presence, Atsumu would be dead meat. As is, he’ll probably just get beat up after the class is over instead of during.
“Watch my spin!” Akagi commands the rest of the class before launching himself onto the pole. His spin is ridiculously fast, his legs moving into crazy poses as he whirls around the pole. He very nearly clocks Ren in the face as he dismounts with a sort of guided backflip.
“Very good, Akagi!” Mei coos. Atsumu’s fairly certain Akagi is her favorite student. “Anyone else have any skills ta show off?”
“My climb’s coming along,” Aran says, demonstrating. Somehow he manages to make climbing the pole kind of hot. It’s actually weird how much confidence affects a simple pole dancing routine.
Atsumu keeps practicing until he feels relatively confident in his routine. When it’s time to perform, he volunteers to go first, before his nerves can get the better of him. Suna films him, because of course he does.
Atsumu thinks his routine goes fairly well; he doesn’t slip up once, and is confident enough that his lack of pointed toes is (hopefully) less noticeable.
The others cheer when he completes the routine with an exaggerated bow.
“Lovely,” Suna deadpans.
“I know, right?” Mei exclaims, utterly sincere. “That was excellent, Atsumu! Who wants to go next?”
“I will,” Akagi volunteers.
His routine puts Atsumu’s to shame, but then again, he’s the best in the class, so Atsumu doesn’t feel too bad. Ren, unfortunately, has to follow him, and it’s kind of hard to watch, but the group cheers him on regardless. Kita goes next, and his routine is simple yet precise, while Aran’s contains more flare. Osamu’s is kind of a disaster; Suna films the whole thing, snickering, and Osamu demands that he delete the video when he’s done.
“No can do,” Suna drawls. “I already shared it with Toya. Atsumu’s, too.”
Atsumu frowns. “Just Motoya, though, right?”
“Yeah,” Suna says casually. “Oh, but I think he shared it with the other V. League liberos.”
Atsumu is filled with dread. “But that means--”
“That Inunaki probably has it? Yeah, I know,” says Suna shamelessly.
Atsumu glares at him. “I am goin’ ta kill ya,” he snaps.
“It’s too late fer us,” Osamu says, voice hollow. “If Inunaki has it…”
Atsumu hears his phone buzz. He lifts his phone slowly and checks the message.
It’s the video of him performing. And it’s in the MSBY team group chat.
“Nooo,” Atsumu moans. “Why, Suna?”
Suna smirks. “You really thought I’d let you get through this day without being thoroughly humiliated? Well, you were wrong.”
“Is mine in there?” Osamu checks.
Atsumu glares at his phone. “Not yet, it ain’t.”
“Tsumu, if ya share it, I swear ta god…” Osamu threatens.
“He won’t,” Suna says. “Don’t worry, I told Motoya to keep yours between us. Only Atsumu deserves that level of humiliation.”
“Thanks, Sunarin,” Atsumu says dully. “‘Preciate it.”
“Anytime,” Suna says cheerfully.
Suna performs after a short water break, and of course his routine is flawless when he actually bothers to put the effort in. After that it’s just Gin, and then the group is done.
They all thank Mei profusely before limping to the changing room, entirely exhausted. Atsumu feels like every part of his body was used, more so even than in volleyball.
“That was hard,” he declares as he changes back into his hoodie and jeans.
“Yeah,” Osamu says wearily, “I haven’t had a workout like that in a long time.”
“Any news from your team, ‘Tsumu?” Suna says slyly.
Atsumu glares at him. “I haven’t checked,” he lies. He’s been checking regularly, and nearly all of his teammates have commented on the video by now. Shouyou and Bokuto are freaking out, Inunaki won’t stop sending skull emojis, and even Meian had expressed his amusement at the situation. Only Barnes, Adriah and Kiyoomi have yet to say something.
“Let’s get dinner together,” Akagi suggests, and the others agree. The light lunch and heavy workout combined have their stomachs audibly growling, so they decide to hit up the local izakaya.
Atsumu orders himself a beer the moment they arrive, reasoning that he deserves a drink after everything. Osamu, Aran and Ren are drinking as well, while the others refrain, either because they need to drive or, in Kita’s case, because he’s not big on drinking in general.
The food arrives when Atsumu’s on his second drink. Akagi’s telling them about his college courses--he’s in his fourth year of school now, so the workload is pretty heavy, but he thinks it’s worth it.
“I’m considering movin’ back here after school, maybe gettin’ a job coachin’ at Inarizaki,” he says casually.
“Not if I get it first,” Gin grumbles. It’s no secret that they’re both studying to become gym teachers, and they’ve always competed with one another.
“I’m older than ya, so I’m gonna get it first,” Akagi brags.
“Pretty sure high schools value skill over experience level,” Gin argues.
“I guess we’ll see ‘bout that.”
Atsumu ends up getting a third beer as the group continues to catch up. He’s feeling pleasantly buzzed, not in the way that he was when he drank himself into oblivion recently, but in a nice way.
“So, Atsumu,” Aran says, eyes twinkling. “Do ya think ya have a chance at beatin’ us next season?”
“I mean, we beat ya last year, right?” Atsumu replies smugly.
Aran scowls. “Only ‘cause our startin’ libero was benched that match,” he grumbles. “Otherwise we woulda had ya.”
“Keep telling yerself that,” Atsumu says. “Honestly, though, I think our team’s stronger than it’s been in a while.”
“Yeah, he even gets along with Sakusa nowadays,” Osamu breaks in. “Believe it or not.”
Aran stares at Atsumu. “I don’t,” he says. ‘How’d ya get that ta happen?”
Atsumu shrugs. “We worked out our differences, I guess. We’re kinda friends now, actually.”
“No way,” Akagi says. “Last time I checked, y’all practically hated each other’s guts.”
“We never hated each other,” Atsumu hedges. “But yeah, we definitely butted heads a lot last season.”
Osamu snorts. “Yeah,” he says, “‘cause yer the two biggest jerks I know.”
“I’m offended by that statement,” Suna says flatly.
“Don’t worry, Rin, yer number three,” Osamu replies.
“How’s yer team been, Sunarin?” Aran says. “Do we have a chance of beatin’ ya next season?”
“Maybe,” Suna says. “I mean, Toya’s really upped his game, so I don’t know. He’s been working on block receives,” he adds, sounding mildly proud of his teammate.
Atsumu whistles. “Those are tricky,” he says.
“Yeah, well, Toya isn’t he number one libero in the country for nothing,” Suna replies.
“Good ta know we’ll have some challengin’ matches next season,” Aran says. “I’d hate fer the league ta get borin’.”
“I don’ think ya have ta worry ‘bout that happenin’ anytime soon,” Atsumu tells him.
Aran, Atsumu and Ren order another round of drinks, and Atsumu’s head begins to feel fuzzy in a good way. An hour later, the group parts ways after lengthy goodbyes and the promise to have another reunion soon.
Suna drives Osamu and Atsumu home, complaining about the stench of beer stinking up the car.
“It’s our car, ya scrub,” Atsumu slurs.
Osamu snickers. “Yeah, stop bein’ so judgmental, Sunarin.”
“I really hate it when the two of you gang up on me,” Suna grumbles. “Good thing it only happens when you drink.”
They go straight to bed when they get home, exhausted from pole dancing, and Atsumu knows he’ll probably be nursing a hangover on the train ride back tomorrow. At least we don’t have ta leave until one, he consoles himself.
He can’t seem to get to sleep that night, either. He wonders if Kiyoomi’s seen the video yet, and if he has, what he thinks of it. He picks up his phone and scrolls through the group chat messages. Adriah commented laughing emojis, and even Barnes had commented on Atsumu’s form, but still no word from Kiyoomi. He’s not exactly known for participating in the group chat, though.
Atsumu realizes then that he never updated Kiyoomi on what they were doing for the activity. Not that it matters now, since he must have seen the video, but maybe Atsumu should text him, anyway. He clicks on Kiyoomi’s contact before realizing that it’s kind of late, and Kiyoomi’s probably asleep. He goes to close his phone, but misses the button, accidentally pressing the ‘call’ button instead.
“ Shit,” Atsumu hisses as the phone begins to ring. Before he can hang up, there’s a click, and then Kiyoomi says, “Atsumu? ”
Atsumu sits up so quickly he hits his head on the ceiling. “ Fuck,” he mutters. “One sec, Omi.” He scrambles down fro his bunk and tiptoes out of the room. He heads downstairs, grabbing a blanket from the sofa before going out to the back porch so as not to wake his family.
“Sorry,” he says, “I actually didn’ mean ta call ya, I jus’--”
“Accidentally pressed the button?” Kiyoomi says dryly.
“Yes, actually, that’s exactly what happened,” Atsumu says honestly.
He hears Kiyoomi huff a laugh. “ Whatever you say.”
“Did I wake ya?” Atsumu says, concerned.
“ No, I was just reading,” Kiyoomi replies.
“Oh. I can go, if ya want,” Atsumu offers.
“ It’s fine.” There’s a pause, and then Kiyoomi says, “ So, pole dancing, huh?”
Atsumu groans. “So ya did see the video, then.”
“It was kind of hard to miss.”
“What didja think?” Atsumu asks before he can stop himself.
“It was good,” Kiyoomi says after a moment, and Atsumu’s stomach jumps. “ You forgot to point your toes, though,” Kiyoomi adds.
“Ugh. Trust me, I know,” Atsumu grumbles. “Pole dancin’ is damn hard, honestly. I gotta lot of respect fer dancers now.”
“ I’ve never tried, but I can imagine,” Kiyoomi replies.
“Ya’d probably be real good at it, since yer so flexible an’ all,” Atsumu comments.
“ Yeah, well, I don’t know if I could deal with the heels, but apart from that, maybe.”
An image of Kiyoomi in heels comes to Atsumu unbidden, and he’s suddenly very glad that Kiyoomi can’t see his face right now.
“Yeah,” Atsumu croaks, “maybe.”
Kiyoomi snorts. “ You’re coming back tomorrow, right?”
“In the middle of the day, yeah,” Atsumu replies. “I’m missin’ mornin’ practice, but I’ll be around fer weight trainin’, at least.”
“ Guess that means I’ll have to work with Kae again,” Kiyoomi says reproachfully.
“Try not to be too hard on him,” Atsumu scolds. “He does his best.”
Kiyoomi sighs. “I know,” he says, “it’s just not the same.”
“I’m yer favorite setter, huh,” Atsumu teases.
“ Obviously.”
The admission takes Atsumu by surprise. He didn’t expect Kiyoomi to say it outright. “Good ta know,” he says. “Jus’ fer the record, yer my favorite spiker.”
Kiyoomi scoffs. “Not Hinata?”
“Nah,” Atsumu says. “He’s too committed ta Kageyama fer my taste.”
“ What about Bokuto?”
“Same thing, but with Akaashi,” Atsumu replies. “Ya’d be my favorite either way, though. Yer spikes are so nasty, they make my sets look better than they are.”
“Yeah, well, your sets make my spikes better, so I guess we’re even.”
“My sets make everyone’s spikes better,” Atsumu says smugly.
“ Don’t get a big head.”
“Too late,” Atsumu sings.
“Ugh. I should have known better than to compliment you.”
“Probably,” Atsumu replies. He yawns, and Kiyoomi must have heard because he says, “ You should probably go to bed, Miya.”
“Atsumu,” Atsumu reminds him sleepily. He can practically feel Kiyoomi’s eye roll through the phone.
“ Atsumu,” Kiyoomi corrects. “Go to bed.”
“Fine,” Atsumu grumbles, unable to suppress another yawn. “Night, Omi-Omi.”
“Good night, Atsumu.”
The line goes dead, and Atsumu shivers, suddenly realizing how cold it is outside. He creeps back into the house and tiptoes upstairs, climbing the bed as quietly as he can. He hears Osamu stir beneath him, and freezes halfway up the latter. Osamu stills again, and Atsumu hoists himself the rest of the way into his bed. Once he’s lying down, he hears Osamu whisper, “‘Tsumu?”
“Did I wake ya?” Atsumu whispers back.
“Yeah, but it’s fine,” Osamu says sleepily. “How’s yer Omi?”
Atsumu hesitates. “How’d ya know I was talkin’ ta him?”
“Lucky guess,” Osamu replies.
“He’s fine,” Atsumu says. “Jus’ annoyed that he has ta work with our reserve setter tomorrow.”
“Poor guy. The setter, I mean,” Osamu clarifies.
Atsumu grimaces. “Yeah, I told Omi ta go easy on him, but we’ll see.”
“Here’s hopin’ he doesn’ make him cry too hard,” Osamu mutters.
“Omi wouldn’t do that,” Atsumu says confidently. “...Probably.”
“He made ya cry, remember?” Osamu reminds him.
“Semantics,” Atsumu replies.
“Whatever. Go ta bed, scrub.”
“Ya first.”
Atsumu rolls his eyes, pulling the blanket up around his chin. He falls asleep surprisingly quick after that.
He dreams that Kiyoomi’s coaching Kae in pole dancing, and Kae starts crying because Kiyoomi’s too mean. It shouldn’t be funny, but it kind of is, and Atsumu wakes up smiling.
“What’s so funny scrub?” Osamu grumbles as they eat breakfast.
“Nothin’.”
Atsumu’s just about to follow Osamu and Suna upstairs to pack when Hanako says, “Atsumu, can I talk to you fer a moment?”
“Sure,” Atsumu says. “Livin’ room?”
“Yeah,” says his mother. He follows her to the living room and takes a seat on the sofa, while she takes the armchair that used to be their father’s. Hanako had claimed it after the divorce, saying she deserved to get something out of that marriage, at the very least.
“So,” Hanako says now. “I just wanted ta check in with ya, see how yer doin’.”
“Fine, mostly,” Atsumu tells her.
“How’re the mood swings?”
“All right. They still happen sometimes, but they’re easier ta handle than they were a few years back,” Atsumu replies. “I actually told my team that I’m bipolar recently,” he adds. “I thought they should know, an’ I felt ready ta tell ‘em.”
“That’s great!” Hanako exclaims. “I’m so glad ya trust ‘em like that.”
“Yeah, well,” Atsumu says, “they’ve given me enough reason ta.”
Hanako hesitates for a moment before saying, “I never really apologized fer how we treated ya in high school.”
Atsumu smiles weakly. “Ya don’t have ta--”
“Yes, I do,” Hanako says firmly. “I can’t account fer yer father’s actions, but the way he yelled at ya wasn’ okay, an’ I should have done more ta stop him, instead of takin’ his side.”
“Thanks, Ma,” Atsumu says softly. “That means a lot.”
“Of course, ‘Tsumu,” Hanako says gently. “‘M jus’ glad yer doin’ better now.”
“Me too,” Atsumu tells her. Impulsively, he crosses the room and hugs his mother, and she squeezes him back. “I missed ya,” he says honestly, choking back tears.
“I missed ya too,” Hanako murmurs. “Ya always have a place here, ya know that? An’ ya better keep visitin’, no matter how busy ya get.”
“Okay,” says Atsumu promises, leaning his head against her shoulder. “I will.”
Notes:
The song ‘Long Way 2 Go is one that I recently rediscovered, it’s a good one
My parents aren’t divorced, but apart from that Atsumu’s family experience is mostly based on my own :-)
Thanks for all the comments and kudos, hopefully should have another chapter up later this week <3
Chapter 10
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Kiyoomi had just finished getting ready for bed and settled down with a novel when his phone buzzes. It’s Atsumu, and Kiyoomi feels a pang of concern, wondering if he’s all right. He picks up and says, “Atsumu?”
There’s a thump, and then Atsumu says, “Fuck. One sec, Omi.” After a moment he says, “Sorry. I actually didn’ mean ta call ya, I jus’--”
“Accidentally pressed the button?” Kiyoomi replies.
“ Yes, actually, that’s exactly what happened, ” Atsumu says.
Kiyoomi can't hold in his laugh. “Whatever you say.”
“Did I wake ya?” Atsumu says, sounding concerned.
“No, I was just reading,” Kiyoomi says honestly.
“ Oh. I can go, if ya want, ” Atsumu offers.
“It’s fine.” There’s a pause, and then Kiyoomi says, “ So, pole dancing, huh?”
Atsumu groans. “ So ya did see the video, then. ”
“It was kind of hard to miss.”
“ What didja think?”
Kiyoomi’s mouth gets dry. “It was good,” He says after a moment. “You forgot to point your toes, though,” Kiyoomi lies.
“Ugh. Trust me, I know,” Atsumu grumbles. Kiyoomi smiles, imagining his grouchy expression. “Pole dancin’ is damn hard, honestly. I gotta lot of respect fer dancers now.”
“I’ve never tried, but I can imagine,” Kiyoomi replies.
“Ya’d probably be real good at it, since yer so flexible an’ all, ” Atsumu comments.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know if I could deal with the heels, but apart from that, maybe.”
Atsumu’s voice sounds funny when he says, “Yeah, maybe.”
Kiyoomi snorts. “You’re coming back tomorrow, right?”
“In the middle of the day, yeah,” Atsumu replies. “ I’m missin’ mornin’ practice, but I’ll be around fer weight trainin’, at least.”
“Guess that means I’ll have to work with Kae again,” Kiyoomi says, cringing.
“Try not ta be too hard on him,” Atsumu scolds. “ He does his best.”
Kiyoomi sighs. “I know,” he says, “it’s just not the same.”
“I’m yer favorite setter, huh ,” Atsumu teases.
“Obviously.”
“Good ta know,” Atsumu says. “ Jus’ fer the record, yer my favorite spiker. ”
Kiyoomi scoffs, surprised. “Not Hinata?”
“Nah,” Atsumu says. “ He’s too committed ta Kageyama fer my taste .”
“What about Bokuto?”
“Same thing, but with Akaashi,” Atsumu replies. “ Ya’d be my favorite either way, though. Yer spikes are so nasty, they make my sets look better than they are.”
“Yeah, well, your sets make my spikes better, so I guess we’re even.”
“My sets make everyone’s spikes better,” Atsumu says, sounding smug
“Don’t get a big head.”
“Too late ,” Atsumu sings.
“Ugh. I should have known better than to compliment you.”
“Probably,” Atsumu replies. Kiyoomi hears him yawn. “You should probably go to bed, Miya,” he says, even though he wants nothing more than to keep talking.
“Atsumu,” Atsumu reminds him sleepily.
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “Atsumu,” He corrects. “Go to bed.”
“Fine,” Atsumu grumbles. Kiyoomi hears him yawn again before saying, “Night, Omi-Omi. ”
“Good night, Atsumu.” Kiyoomi hangs up the phone, smiling slightly. He never thought he’d admit it to anyone, let alone himself, but he misses Atsumu. Kiyoomi hopes he’s doing all right being at home; though Atsumu hasn’t told him much, Kiyoomi had gathered that his relationship with his family while he was in high school had been...tumultuous, to say the least.
Kiyoomi settles in to read for a bit, but his thoughts are stuck on Atsumu. He wants Atsumu to have a good time, but he (selfishly) wants him to come back, too. He misses the sound of his voice, he misses talking to him, he misses the way Atsumu looks at him, like...like he’s worth looking at.
Kiyoomi frowns. There’s something nagging at him, Kiyoomi’s just not sure what it is. So of course he does what he always does when he’s feeling uncertain: he calls Motoya.
Motoya picks up on the second ring. He sounds panicked when he says, “Kiyo! Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Kiyoomi says, confused.
He hears Motoya sigh. “ It’s literally one in the morning and you called me. What was I supposed to think?”
“I’m fine,” Kiyoomu says. He pauses, then adds, “Well, I think I am, anyway.”
Motoya hums. “ Is this about your fat crush on Miya?”
Kiyoomi chokes. “What--I don’t have a crush on Miya!” He hisses into the phone.
“ You literally went on a date. We’ve been over this,” Motoya says patiently.
“And like I said before, it wasn’t a date.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Motoya says. “ Anyway, if it’s not about that, then what’s up?”
“It’s…” Kiyoomi hesitates. “I just miss Atsumu. And I feel kind of weird about it. I don’t really miss people, you know?”
Motoya sighs. “ Kiyo. That’s called a crush.”
“No it’s not,” Kiyoomi protests stubbornly. “Atsumu’s…” What? His friend? They’re closer than that now, aren’t they? “...My best friend,” Kiyoomi says finally. “Besides, I don’t think he’d be interested. Not that it matters, because I don’t have a crush.”
“ Whatever you say, Kiyo. Just for the record, though, I’m pretty sure Atsumu likes you.”
Kiyoomi frowns. “What makes you think that?”
“ Well, Suna says that Osamu says that Atsumu talks about you nonstop. Also he may or may not have told Osamu, who told Suna, who told me, that he’s attracted to you. Just saying.”
Kiyoomi is reeling. “Why wouldn’t he tell me that?”
“ Why should he? Assuming you’re not interested, he probably doesn’t want to risk your friendship.”
“But what if I am interested?” Kiyoomi blurts.
“ I knew you were!” Motoya screeches. “Jeez, Kiyoomi. It’s okay to like someone, you know .”
“But then...what happens now? Do I have to tell him?” Kiyoomi says warily.
“ I mean, you don’t have to, but don’t you want something to come of this?”
Kiyoomi considers this. He imagines himself kissing Atsumu, letting Atsumu touch him, and his skin doesn’t crawl. “I...don’t know,” he says finally. “I guess I don’t hate the idea of dating him, though.”
“ That’s a start,” says Motoya encouragingly. “ Just consider telling him, okay? I think he could--I think you could be good for each other.”
“I’ll consider it,” Kiyoomi says.
“ That’s all I’m asking.” Kiyoomi hears a yawn, and then Motoya says, “ If that’s all, I’m gonna go to bed now, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Toya,” Kiyoomi adds.
“ Sure. Keep me posted, yeah?”
“Sure. Night,” Kiyoomi says before hanging up.
Practice the following day is rough. Kae’s doing his best, and Kiyoomi tries to go easy on him, he really does. Still, his sets aren’t nearly enough for Kiyoomi. They’re fine; there’s nothing objectively wrong with them, it’s just that they lack the level of precision and care that Atsumu’s sets contain.
Kiyoomi’s napping after morning practice when Atsumu returns. Kiyoomi jolts awake at the sound of his phone buzzing. He squints at the screen, a too-bright rectangle in his darkened room, and picks up only when he sees that it’s Atsumu.
“What’s up,” Kiyoomi mumbles groggily.
“Hey, Omi! Did I wake ya?” There’s amusement in Atsumu’s voice.
Kiyoomi scowls. “No.”
“ Liar. Anyway, I’m back now, wanna get lunch?”
“Sure,” Kiyoomi says. “Just give me, like, thirty minutes.”
“ Ya were definitely nappin’, weren’tcha,” Atsumu says.
“I wasn’t,” Kiyoomi denies.
“ Whatever ya say, Omi.”
Kiyoomi hangs up the phone without saying goodbye before forcing himself out of bed. He makes it downstairs right at three, finding Atsumu waiting for him in the living room. He’s sprawled across the sofa, scrolling on his phone, and he glances up when he hears Kiyoomi approach.
“Omiiii!” He says, face brightening. He jumps up and tackles Kiyoomi, who takes a few steps back, catching him automatically.
“Hey,” he mumbles into Atsumu’s shoulder. He pushes him off after a minute. “How was your trip?”
“Good!” Says Atsumu happily. “I’m starvin’, though, so let’s go find somethin’ ta eat an’ then I’ll tell ya all about it.”
“You could have gone without me,” Kiyoomi says.
“Nah, I wanted ta see ya,” Atsumu replies.
They end up at their usual ramen place down the street, since it’s close to home and relatively cheap, too.
Kiyoomi slurps his noodles as Atsumu talks. “Seein’ everyone again was great!” He says excitedly. “‘Specially Kita-san. I forgot how scary he is,” Atsumu admits. “Can’ believe he was the one who signed us up fer that pole dancin’ class!”
Neither can Kiyoomi. Kita always seemed so...tame, compared to the rest of Inarizaki, anyway.
“The pole dancin’ teacher was wild,” Atsumu continues. “I think she was even more flexible than ya, Omi!”
“Impressive,” Kiyoomi deadpans.
“Akagi was unfairly good at it,” Atsumu adds. “I wonder if that’s a libero thing?”
Kiyoomi makes a face. “I hope not. Toya would be insufferable if he were also good at pole dancing.”
“Probably,” Atsumu agrees.
“Did you talk to your parents while you were there?” Kiyoomi says, changing the subject effectively.
Atsumu smiles softly. “I did, actually. Well, I talked ta my mom, at least. Haven’t seen dad since the divorce a few years back.”
“Oh,” Kiyoomi says, reeling. “I didn’t know--”
“I didn’t tell ya,” Atsumu says. “I don’ want pity, ya know?”
“I don’t pity you.”
Atsumu grins. “I know ya don’t, Omi. But yeah, I had a pretty good talk with Ma ‘bout high school an’ everythin’. She apologized an’ even asked how I’m doin’ now, so that was nice.”
“That’s great,” says Kiyoomi. “I’m glad you had a good time.”
“Me too. So how was practice without me?” Atsumu says, smirking. “Ya didn’ scare Kae off the team yet, didja?”
“Not yet,” Kiyoomi replies. “I probably came a bit too close, though.”
Atsumu whistles. “Poor guy. He’s got some big shoes ta fill, that’s fer sure.”
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “If you say so.”
They finish their ramen and head back to the sharehouse together. Hinata, Bokuto and Inunaki are watching tv in the living room when they return.
“Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto yells when he spots the two of them. He jumps up from the sofa, jostling Hinata and Inunaki, and throws himself at Atsumu. Hinata follows suit, and even Inunaki grins at him.
“How was pole dancing?” He says to Atsumu slyly.
Atsumu sticks his tongue out at Inunaki. “It was amazin’, and yer jus’ jealous that ya can’t pull off heels like I can.”
Kiyoomi flushes at the image of Atsumu in heels. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get it out of his brain, not entirely anyway.
“You don’t even need heels,” Inunaki complains. “Leave those to the short ones, right Hinata?”
“I’m not that short!” Hinata denies.
Inunaki snorts. “Sure.”
The five of them go to get ready for evening weight training and head to the gym together.
“Welcome back, ‘Tsumu,” Adriah calls when he notices Atsumu’s presence.
“Thanks!” Atsumu chirps. “Happy ta be here.”
Weight training is the same as usual, except for the fact that Kiyoomi can’t seem to keep his eyes off of Atsumu. It’s kind of a problem, and Kiyoomi nearly drops weights on himself at least twice in the span of an hour.
“You good?” Barnes asks him at one point, sounding concerned.
Kiyoomi grits his teeth. “Fine,” he says as he mounts the leg press.
“You sure? You seem kinda spacey,” Barnes comments.
“Just tired, I guess,” Kiyoomi replies, adamantly focusing his gaze on the wall in front of him instead of Atsumu’s thighs, which are in full view directly to his left.
Kiyoomi can practically hear Motoya mocking him for his stupid obsession, and resolves never to tell him about it.
His resolve lasts until shortly after weight training. He calls Motoya the moment he gets to his room.
“ What is it this time?” Motoya says, sounding more exasperated than annoyed.
“I--uhh.” Kiyoomi feels stupid saying it. “I can’t stop staring at Atsumu,” he blurts eventually. “Ugh. It’s such a problem, and I think people are starting to notice.” He knows he sounds paranoid right now, but he’s beyond caring.
“ Kiyo,” Motoya sounds patiently, “ it’s only going to get worse until you talk to him.”
“Maybe I should avoid him,” Kiyoomi muses. “If I don’t see him, I can’t stare at him, right?”
“That’s stupid,” Motoya says firmly. “ Avoiding someone you have a crush on is, like, so overrated. What you need is honest communication. And if that’s out of reach for the time being, then you need to at least maintain some semblance of normalcy around Atsumu.”
“How do I do that?” Kiyoomi says desperately.
“ How about exposure therapy? I mean, if you’re hanging out with him nonstop, you’ll probably get used to him, right?”
“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Kiyoomi says flatly.
“You’re impossible. Also--”
Motoya is interrupted by a knock at Kiyoomi’s door. “One sec,” he says to Toya. He opens the door to reveal Atsumu.
“Oh, shit,” Atsumu says, “I can go if yer on the phone.”
“ Is that Atsumu?” Motoya says excitedly. “ Let me say hi!”
Kiyoomi sighs. “Fine,” he grumbles, putting the phone on speaker and pulling Atsumu into his room. “Behave,” he warns them.
Atsumu grins. “Hey, Toya-kun!”
“ Hey, Atsumu!” Motoya chirps. “ How was your trip?”
“Good,” Atsumu says, sounding surprised. “How’d ya know--oh, right. I forgot ‘bout the video,” he says.
Motoya laughs. “ That was quite the performance! Think you could teach me sometime?”
“Sure!” Atsumu says just as Kiyoomi says, “ No.”
“What, you jealous, Kiyo?” Motoya teases.
Kiyoomi grits his teeth. “I’m not--”
“Don’ worry, Omi-kun! I’ll teach ya too!” Atsumu says.
“That’s not--”
“ Yayy!” Motoya cheers. “ Anyway, I was just about to ask Kiyo if he wanted to come shopping with me this weekend when I’m in town. Wanna come with us?”
“I don’t need anything,” Kiyoomi protests.
“ Kiyo, your wardrobe is entirely black and neon. You have no sense of style and it’s about time we did something about that.”
Atsumu nods solemnly. “He’s right, ya know.”
“I don’t think I can handle the two of you together,” Kiyoomi says honestly.
“C’moon, Omi,” Atsumu whines. “It’ll be fun.” He gives Kiyoomi puppy dog eyes, which isn’t nearly as cute as he thinks it is. It’s kind of pathetic, actually.
Somehow, it works.
Kiyoomi sighs. “Fine,” he says, “but we’re only going to shop for two hours max, and no more than that.”
“Two hours and lunch,” Atsumu compromises.
“ What about a spa day?” Motoya suggests.
“Absolutely not,” Kiyoomi says adamantly, trying not to imagine Atsumu in nothing but a towel. “Two hours or nothing.”
“And lunch,” Atsumu repeats.
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “And lunch.”
He can practically hear Motoya pouting through the phone. “ Fiiiine. But we get to choose the stores.”
Kiyoomi groans. “Fine.”
“This is gonna be so fun!” Atsumu exclaims.
Kiyoomi has his doubts.
On Thursday, Atsumu has his first therapy appointment.
It goes well, from what Kiyoomi gathers. Atsumu comes to his room after, taking a seat on Kiyoomi’s bed without bothering to ask. Kiyoomi sits beside him.
“How was it?” He says.
Atsumu hesitates. “Different than I was expectin’,” he says. “I thought there’d be more gut-spillin’ and whatnot, I guess.”
“I mean, it’s only the first appointment,” Kiyoomi points out. “He probably just wants to get to know you first.”
“True,” Atsumu agrees. “I think we’re gonna get into more of the copin’ mechanisms next week.”
“That’s great,” says Kiyoomi. “So you’ll be seeing him weekly?”
“Ta start, yeah,” Atsumu replies. “Maybe less if my moods get under control, but who knows when that’ll happen.” He laughs weakly.
Kiyoomi’s not sure what to say.
“It’s all right,” Atsumu continues, probably noticing Kiyoomi’s lost expression. “I know it’s gonna get better. I jus’ wish it would happen already.”
On impulse, Kiyoomi reaches out and grabs Atsumu’s hand, squeezing it harshly. “You’re going to be okay.” He says it like a command, as if he can will it to be true.
Atsumu smiles slightly. “Thanks, Omi,” he says softly.
“No problem,” Kiyoomi mumbles, willing himself not to blush. It’s just his stupid hand. Don’t get fucking flustered over it, you gay moron.
Atsumu’s face brightens suddenly as if he’s remembered something, and then he smiles in a way that can only mean trouble for Kiyoomi.
“Omiiii,” he sings, “be a dear and show me yer closet?”
“What,” Kiyoomi says flatly. “No.”
Atsumu pouts. “But I need ta take stock of what ya have! Ya know, fer shoppin’ purposes!”
Kiyoomi had (intentionally) forgotten about their planned shopping trip. He groans and tries to pull his hand from Atsumu’s, but Atsumu grips him tighter, widening his eyes pathetically. “Omi, pleeease?” He whines.
Kiyoomi sighs. “If you stop making that face, like, yesterday, then fine.”
“Yay!” Atsumu cheers, jumping up to the bed and striding to Kiyoomi’s closet before Kiyoomi can stop him. He throws open the doors, takes one look at Kiyoomi’s clothes, and bursts into laughter.
“Toya-kun--was--right,” he gasps. “Ya really--really only have--black and neon, huh?”
Kiyoomi scowls. “What about it?”
Atsumu tsks. “I can’ believe ya live like this! I mean, I knew ya had no fashion sense, but--no, don’ give me that look! Ya know yer obnoxiously hot an’ can pull off whatever the fuck ya want, and ya fully take advantage of that. S’not fair,” he complains.
Kiyoomi frowns. “You...think I’m hot?”
Atsumu rolls his eyes. “ That’s what ya got from that? Jeez, Kiyoomi. Of course yer hot. But yer style? Atrocious.”
Atsumu thinks I’m hot.
Kiyoomi shakes his head. “I don’t care,” he says out loud.
“Well, ya should,” Atsumu says, looking Kiyoomi up and down. He’s wearing a pink university hoodie with neon yellow track pants and red socks.
Kiyoomi scowls. “It’s...a look.”
“Sure is,” Atsumu agrees. “We’re meetin’ Motoya at the shoppin’ center around eleven, so be up by ten at the latest. Got it?”
“I thought Toya wasn’t coming until Saturday?” Kiyomi says, confused.
“Oh, he isn’t. Jus’ makin’ absolute sure ya get the memo so ya can’t pretend ya forgot an’ skip.”
“I wasn’t going to do that!” Kiyoomi lies. He was absolutely going to do that.
“Sure ya weren’t,” Atsumu says dubiously. “Anyway, I gotta get ta bed, but I’ll see ya tomorrow. And thanks, Kiyoomi.”
“What did I do?” Kiyoomi says, confused.
Atsumu shrugs, smiling. “Yer a good friend.”
“You, too,” Kiyoomi blurts. You’re more than that.
“Night, Omi.”
“Night, Atsumu.”
On Saturday morning, Atsumu practically breaks down his door at 9 AM. Kiyoomi’s still in his pajamas, unshowered, with terrible bedhead, and he’s in the process of brushing his teeth.
“What,” he grumbles, dribbling toothpaste down his chin.
Atsumu looks amused. “Lookin’ good, Omi.”
Kiyoomi turns around and leaves, leaving the door open in invitation. Atsumu follows him to the bathroom, watching as he spits toothpaste into the sink. Once Kiyoomi’s mouth is rinsed, he turns to Atsumu.
“Why are you here,” he deadpans.
Atsumu frowns. “Shopping, remember?”
“It’s 9 AM. We don’t have to meet Toya until eleven. Why are you here,” Kiyoomi repeats.
“‘Cause I know ya take yer sweet time in the mornin’, that’s why!” Atsumu says. “Also, I made breakfast, so ya should probably hurry up an’ get downstairs before it gets cold.”
Kiyoomi perks up at that. “Oatmeal?”
“With apples,” Atsumu confirms. Ever since he’d figured out Kiyoomi likes his oatmeal, he’d made it for Kiyoomi whenever he wanted to bribe him. Kiyoomi falls for it every time.
“Ugh. Fine, be down in fifteen,” Kiyoomi grouches.
“That’s my Omi!”
Kiyoomi showers quickly before joining Atsumu downstairs. Inunaki and Hinata are in the kitchen as well; Bokuto must be at the gym practicing serves, a task he reserves for Saturday mornings.
“What. Are you wearing,” Inunaki chokes out.
Kiyoomi frowns. “Atsumu, Toya and I are going shopping, so I thought I’d dress nice.”
He’s wearing his old Itachiyama warm up jacket (it’s vintage!) and a pair of blue jeans, along with his comfiest running shoes.
“Ya look like a dad,” Atsumu tells him. “An’ not in the sexy way.”
Inunaki snorts. “More like he’s cosplaying as a crossing guard.”
“Or an unripe banana!” Hinata chimes in.
Kiyoomi glares at them all. “I look fine.”
Atsumu cackles. “Ya don’t, but that’s okay. Today is about fixin’ that, remember?”
Kiyoomi scowls. As if you’d let me forget.
They head out around 11:30, since the shopping center’s only a twenty five minute walk away. When they near the center, Kiyoomi spots Motoya almost instantly. He’s wearing a red EJP hoodie, so he’s not exactly inconspicuous.
Motoya waves when he notices the two of them, cringing slightly when he sees Kiyoomi.
“It’s not that bad,” Kiyoomi defends when they get close.
“Kiyo, you look like a dad. And not in a hot way,” Motoya adds.
Kiyoomi groans. “Let’s just get this over with.”
They start at Uniqlo. There’s a few nice coats on sale since it’s early May and no one is buying coats right now, except for Kiyoomi, since he can never resist a sale. Atsumu forces him to choose between a deep navy blue coat and a black one, swatting away the hand that reaches for the bright yellow down coat on the end.
“But it’s unique,” Kiyoomi protests when Atsumu pulls him towards the other options.
“It’s hideous,” Atsumu counters. “Do ya wanna look like a bunch of scrambled egg?”
“What if I do?” Kiyoomi says defensively.
“You don’t,” Motoya says from behind him. “You’re just too proud to admit that you care about how you look.”
“I don’t!”
“Yes, ya do,” Atsumu says calmly. “Now be a doll an’ try on this classy, black coat for me, eh?”
Kiyoomi does as he’s told, glaring the whole time.
They direct him to the shirts next, Atsumu picking out several long sleeves for him to try, all in muted jewel tones. There’s an emerald green one that Kiyoomi actually likes, and a nice, bright red one (“Pops of color are fine as long as ya style ‘em right,” Atsumu had explained).
They end up getting both shirts, the jackets, and a new pair of dark wash jeans that actually fit Kiyoomi pretty well.
They hop from store to store, Motoya and Atsumu loading Kiyoomi with bags upon bags of clothing. They don’t seem to be shopping much for themselves; at one point Kiyoomi asks Atsumu what he’s looking for, and he just shrugs. “I’ll know when I see it,” he says.
Apparently something’s caught his eye at the next store they visit, because Atsumu disappears into the changing room next to Kiyoomi’s. He emerges several minutes later, wearing a silky, patterned button down that hangs loosely off his frame.
“Whatcha think, Omi?” He says, doing a little twirl.
Kiyoomi stares at him for so long that Motoya has to clear his throat. He elbows Kiyoomi in the side and chirps, “I think you look great, Atsumu!”
Once Kiyoomi’s composed himself, he says, “You look...fine.”
“ Fine? I look like a god,” Atsumu declares. “Also, this is, like, the softest shirt ever! Here, feel it.” He shoves his arm at Kiyoomi, who chokes a little. Motoya coughs as Kiyoomi reaches over and feels the fabric. It is soft. Also, Atsumu’s arm feels really nice.
Kiyoomi snatches his hand back after a moment. “That’s good, I guess,” he says, fighting to keep his voice even.
Motoya snickers behind him, and Kiyoomi shoots him a glare. Lucky for him, Atsumu is utterly oblivious as he turns to face the mirror.
“I’m gonna get it,” he announces after examining his reflection thoroughly.
“Good for you,” Kiyoomi says flatly. “Can we please get lunch now? My feet are starting to hurt.”
“Fer shame, Omi!” Atsumu scolds. “Aren’t ya supposed ta be a professional athlete?”
“Yeah, Kiyo,” Motoya teases, “where’s your stamina?”
“It ran away about three changing rooms ago,” Kiyoomi fires back. He turns to Atsumu. “Lunch?”
Atsumu hesitates. “Fine,” he says finally. “But I get ta dress ya fer movie night tonight.”
Kiyoomi frowns. “Movie night?”
Atsumu turns to Motoya. “Ya didn’ tell him?”
“I thought you were going to!” Motoya says, grimacing.
“Tell me what?” Kiyoomi demands.
Atsumu turns back to him and says, “We kinda, uh, agreed ta have a movie night with Sunarin and ‘Samu.”
“Tonight?” Kiyoomi confirms.
“Yep. We’re watchin’ ‘ The Princess Switch’,” he announces proudly.
“Ooh, is that the one with Selena Gomez?” Motoya chimes in.
“Vanessa Hudgens,” Atsumu corrects, “and even better, there’s two of her!”
“That sounds like a disaster,” Kiyoomi states.
“Oh, it is,” Atsumu says gleefully. “Yer gonna love it.”
Somehow Kiyoomi very much doubts that.
They swing by a cafe to grab lunch with Motoya before parting ways, promising to be at Osamu’s apartment by eight at the latest. At 7:30, Atsumu picks out an outfit for Kiyoomi, consisting of the emerald green shirt, his new jeans, and his least offensive pair of sneakers. Kiyoomi feels almost uncomfortable without his usual neon garb, but something about the toned down colors is comforting, too.
“Ya look good,” Atsumu says, appraising him. “Ready ta be entertained?”
“No,” Kiyoomi says, but he follows Atsumu anyway.
They arrive at Osamu’s place right at eight. The living room is already set up to accommodate the five of them, with pillows and blankets strewn across every surface. Motoya, Suna and Osamu are sandwiched on the couch, so Kiyoomi and Atsumu take the floor in front of them.
“How are ya, Sakusa?” Osamu says as they get settled in.
“Fine,” Kiyoomi replies.
“I heard they forced you to shop today, how’d that go?” Says Suna
“I guess it wasn’t entirely terrible,” Kiyoomi concedes.
“He’s wearin’ the shirt I picked out now,” Atsumu says proudly.
“Nobody asked ya, scrub.”
They start the movie, Atsumu scooching closer to Kiyoomi to steal half of his blanket. Kiyoomi tries to tug the blanket back to get more coverage, but Atsumu, ever the blanket thief, continues to grip his end until Kiyoomi relinquishes his hold. Eventually Kiyoomi ends up getting even closer to Atsumu, figuring that if they’re going to share a blanket, they may as well do it right.
The movie is pretty straightforward. It’s basically the princess and the pauper, except the pauper is participating in a baking competition. There’s the much anticipated switch, a prince, and even a hot single dad, not to mention the omniscient old man that appears sporadically throughout the movie.
It’s a good thing it’s easy to follow, because Kiyoomi’s hardly paying attention. Atsumu’s now completely slumped against his side, head cushioned on Kiyoomi’s shoulder. Then, halfway through the movie, Atsumu grows heavier, and his breaths begin to even out.
“Did he fall asleep on ya?” Osamu whispers to Kiyoomi.
Kiyoomi nods helplessly.
Suna snickers. “What a dumbass.”
“Ya can wake him up, if ya want,” Osamu tells him.
Kiyoomi glances down at Atsumu’s slack face and shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he says. He carefully pushes Atsumu into a more comfortable position before settling down to finish the movie.
Kiyoomi doesn’t even notice when his eyelids start to grow heavy and his head starts to loll, coming to rest on top of Atsumu’s. He doesn’t notice when the movie ends, and he definitely doesn’t notice when Motoya drapes a second blanket over him and Atsumu, leaving them to sleep on the floor like the traitor that he is.
He only wakes up when the living room is empty and dark.
He should go home. He should wake up Atsumu and help him move to the couch, at the very least.
Instead, Kiyoomi pushes him over so that he’s lying down before sprawling out beside him, drawing the blankets up around their chins before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Notes:
aka the phone call chapter :)
I decided to have Atsumu’s therapy appointment take place during Kiyoomi’s POV. This is mostly because I only recently started therapy and so don’t feel entirely comfortable writing out an appointment yet, seeing as I don’t actually know any particularly good coping mechanisms myself, and also I just don’t really know how to talk about my emotions, so having Atsumu do that is pretty hard for me. I will touch more on the appointment next chapter as well.
Thank you to everyone for reading! <3<3
edit: I am also currently working on a Love Island fic and it’s super funny so y’all should check it out if u want some lighthearted sakuatsu content :-)
Chapter 11
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It’s getting bad again.
Atsumu’s not sure what set him off this time. He’d had a great time with Kiyoomi and Motoya over the weekend, but on Monday he’d started feeling...off.
It’s getting bad again.
By Tuesday, he’s so drained that he can’t seem to get out of bed. This one’s not a mixed episode; just some good, old fashioned depression.
The thing that most people don’t understand about depression, Atsumu thinks, is that so little of it is being sad. Sure, it varies from person to person, but at least for Atsumu, being depressed is mostly just being really, really tired. Bone tired, so tired that he can’t leave his bed, make himself food, take a shower. Sure, he’s a little bit down, but mostly he’s apathetic. Numb. He just doesn’t care.
On Tuesday afternoon, after an absolutely abysmal practice, he calls Osamu. He picks up on the first ring and says, “ Tsumu?”
“It’s getting bad again,” Atsumu tells him. That’s all he has to say.
“I’m on my way,” Osamu says, and then he hangs up.
There’s a knock on Atsumu’s door about half an hour later. Atsumu actually locked it for once, so he drags himself out of bed and trudges over to the door to pull it open.
“Ya look terrible,” Osamu says.
Atsumu wordlessly stands aside so that he can come in. Osamu brushes past him and dumps a bag of onigiri on the table, along with a plastic water bottle. He takes a seat on the couch, Atsumu joining him after a moment.
“So,” Osamu says eventually, “that bad, huh?”
Atsumu nods weakly. “Yeah,” he croaks. “I guess I’m not doing as well as I thought.”
“I think yer expectations of yerself are too high,” Osamu tells him. He’s not wrong, but it still hurts to hear.
“What, ya think I shouldn’t try ta get better?” Atsumu says quietly.
“That’s not what I said. Ya need ta be realistic. Yer not jus’ gonna get better like that. Yer symptoms aren’t gonna suddenly disappear. But they’ll get easier ta manage. Ya only had one therapy appointment so far, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And didja learn anythin’ helpful yet?” Osamu says.
“Not really. We mostly got caught up on everythin’, and by then the session was over,” Atsumu tells him.
Osamu is quiet for a moment.
“What?” Says Atsumu.
“Nothin’. I jus’ wish I could help,” he says, sounding lost.
“Ya do help,” Atsumu says. “Really.”
“Not enough.”
“Yeah, well,” Atsumu says, “ya can’t blame yerself fer not bein’ able ta fix me.”
“Ya don’ need ta be fixed,” Osamu replies instantly.
“Sure,” Atsumu says, not convinced.
“Seriously,” Osamu says. “Ya need help. That doesn’t make ya broken.”
Atsumu’s frustrated when he says, “Then why can I barely function? I know it’s gonna get better, but when? Why is it takin’ so damn long?”
“I don’ know,” Osamu says quietly. Then he says, “I texted Sakusa. He’ll be here soon.”
“What? Why?” Atsumu says, alarmed.
“‘Cause he’s good at helpin’ ya,” says Osamu. “Why, are ya worried he’ll judge ya or somethin’?”
“Not that,” says Atsumu. “I jus’ don’ want him ta resent me fer relyin’ on him too much.”
“He won’t,” Osamu says.
“How do ya know that?”
“He cares about ya. He’s not gonna resent ya, he jus’ wants ya ta feel better, like I do. So stop worryin’ so damn much about it,” Osamu tells him.
Atsumu hesitates. “What if I push him away?”
“Yer not gonna,” Osamu says. “An’ if ya try, I’ll beat yer ass. Ya deserve someone like him, so stop thinkin’ ya don’t.”
There’s a knock at the door.
“‘S open!” Osamu yells.
The door swings open, revealing a disheveled looking Kiyoomi.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says. “I was napping when you texted me, I only just saw.”
“Ya didn’ have ta come,” Atsumu says.
Osamu slaps his arm. “Shaddup about that, will ya? He wants ta help, right Sakusa?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” Kiyoomi says. He sounds genuine, but Atsumu still has a hard time believing that he would care enough to do that.
Osamu stands. “I’ve gotta get back ta work,” he informs them. To Kiyoomi he says, “Text me if ya need anythin’. I left food fer both of ya, but I can always bring more if ya need it.”
“Thanks,” Kiyoomi replies. “I’ll keep you posted.”
Osamu leaves, shutting the door behind him, and Kiyoomi turns to Atsumu. “Food?” He says.
Atsumu nods silently, and Kiyoomi takes a seat beside him, pulling the food from the bag and using the bag as a makeshift plate. Kiyoomi passes Atsumu a fatty tuna onigiri before taking an umeboshi one for himself.
They eat quietly, Atsumu managing to finish a whole onigiri before he starts to feel slightly sick.
“‘M gonna lie down,” he says softly. Kiyoomi nods and follows him to the bed, perching at the end while Atsumu wraps himself up in the blankets.
“Ya don’ have ta stay,” Atsumu says wearily. “I’m sure ya have better things ta do.”
“I really don’t,” Kiyoomi replies. “Anyway, I’d rather be here.”
Atsumu doesn’t know what to make of that.
“Is there anything I can do?” Kiyoomi says quietly.
For some reason the question sets Atsumu off, and to his horror, he feels himself tearing up.
“Atsumu?” Kiyoomi says, alarmed. “What can I do?”
Atsumu just shakes his head. “I don’ know,” he says, letting out a choked sob. “I don’ know why I’m cryin’.”
Kiyoomi looks pained, and Atsumu hates that he’s making him feel that way.
“Can I come closer?” Kiyoomi says.
Atsumu takes a deep breath, surprised, and nods. Kiyoomi scoots closer and lies down beside him, not touching him, but Atsumu can feel his body heat through the layers of blankets.
“I’m sorry I can’t do more,” Kiyoomi says softly.
“Me too,” Atsumu murmurs. He closes his eyes, tired out from crying, and the next thing he knows he’s blinking awake in a darkened room. He rolls over onto his other side, knocking against something warm. Atsumu frowns, wondering for a moment if Osamu had returned.
Then he hears a small, sleepy “Atsumu?”
“Omi?” Atsumu mumbles blearily. “Why’re ya here?”
Kiyoomi frowns. “I didn’t want to leave you.”
Atsumu sighs. “Look, I get that ya care an’ ya don’ want me ta be alone right now or whatever,” he says, “but ya can’t jus’ set aside yer life fer me.”
“I’m not,” Kiyoomi tells him. “I’m just making room.”
Atsumu doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing. Kiyoomi scoots closer, and Atsumu lifts the blankets, offering him a place.
Making room.
Kiyoomi settles in beside Atsumu. He doesn’t touch him, which Atsumu appreciates, because he’s not sure he could take that right now.
“Are ya sure ya wanna stay?” Atsumu says quietly.
“I’ll stay until I have to leave for practice tomorrow,” Kiyoomi answers.
In the morning, Kiyoomi is gone. Atsumu stares at the ceiling, eyes tracing the line of a single cobweb that’s strung between the ceiling and the wall.
After practice, Bokuto comes by.
“Hey,” he says quietly, taking a seat on the side of Atsumu’s bed. “Shouyou’s making rice, do you think you can eat?”
“Yeah, probably,” Atsumu tells him. He’s honestly not sure, but he doesn’t feel that nauseous right now, so it’s probably fine.
“I’ll tell him,” Bokuto says. “Omi-kun’s on his way, too. He stayed late to work on his serves--he said something along the lines of, “I’m gonna kick Atsumu’s ass next game” or whatever.”
“Damn him,” Atsumu mutters. At this rate, Kiyoomi would no doubt score more service aces than Atsumu. They have a practice game with the Adlers coming up, and Atsumu wants to be in top form.
“Don’t worry about the next game,” Bokuto says, reading his mind. “It’s just a practice game.”
“But it’s still a game,” Atsumu protests. “I need ta be ready.”
“You will be,” Bokuto promises. “We’ll catch you up next week.”
“Thanks, Bokkun,” Atsumu says weakly, somehow close to tears again.
“You’re gonna be okay, Tsum-Tsum,” Bokuto says, giving Atsumu a pat on the knee.
Atsumu nods and Bokuto leaves, promising to check on him after weight training later in the day.
Shouyou comes by next, bearing rice and stories from practice. Kiyoomi had yelled at Kae again, to absolutely no one’s surprise, and Meian had yelled at Kiyoomi for yelling at Kae. It was all pretty loud, apparently. Oh, also, he’d seen a really cool bug on his way back from the gym. He shows Atsumu pictures of an iridescent-shelled beetle, and Atsumu actually feels himself smiling faintly.
After Shouyou leaves, Kiyoomi knocks on the door.
“Open!” Atsumu yells hoarsely.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” says Kiyoomi, approaching the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like crap,” Atsumu says honestly. “Better than yesterday, though.”
“That’s something, at least,” says Kiyoomi.
“Yeah,” Atsumu says before changing the subject. “Heard ya chewed out Kae today.”
Kiyoomi frowns. “I didn’t ‘chew him out’, I firmly expressed my emotions.”
“What emotions?” Says Atsumu, smirking.
“I don’t like him. That counts as an emotion,” Kiyoomi says.
“So ya jus’ dislike the guy fer no good reason?” Atsumu says, baffled.
Kiyoomi shrugs. “He’s not you.”
Kiyoomi stays with him until he has to leave for weight training, and he returns later that night. He sleeps beside Atsumu again, and they don’t talk or touch but still, it’s enough for Atsumu.
Osamu returns the next day, bringing lunch and Suna.
“Wow, you look like shit,” Suna comments.
Atsumu snorts. “Thanks. How are ya, Sunarin?”
“Better than you, clearly,” Suna replies. “Did anything trigger it this time?”
“Nah. I was in a pretty good place, fer once. I dunno what happened.”
“Sometimes they’re just like that,” Suna says, shrugging. “Do you feel better today?”
Atsumu considers this. “A little,” he says. “Time is kinda fuzzy right now, and so is my head.”
Suna looks to Osamu. “Translate?”
“He means that his sense of time is off,” Osamu explains, “an’ he’s out of it.”
“Ah,” says Suna, glancing back at Atsumu. “I see.”
“Has Sakusa come by yet?” Osamu says.
“Not yet,” Atsumu tells him. “He’ll probably be by after practice.”
“He’s been spending a lot of time with you, huh,” Suna remarks.
“Yeah, it’s nice havin’ him around,” Atsumu says. “I jus’ hope I’m not, like, too much fer him or whatever.”
Suna tenses. “Why, did he say that you were?”
“No!” Atsumu says quickly. “The opposite, actually. He’s been super good ‘bout everythin’, it’s kinda weird.”
Suna and Osamu exchange a glance.
“So,” says Suna casually, “are you gonna tell him how you feel, or do I have to do it for you?”
Atsumu scowls. “Don’t ya dare. I swear I’m gonna say somethin’, I jus’ don’ wanna dump that on him, with everythin’ else, ya know?”
“Whatever,” Suna says, sounding bored.
“I think yer bein’ a coward,” Osamu says.
“M’ not bein’ a--oh, hey, Omi!”
“Hello,” Kiyoomi says, peeking into the room. “Atsumu, did I leave my jacket here last night?”
“I think ya left it on that chair, maybe?” Atsumu says, waving vaguely at the armchair in the corner. Kiyoomi crosses the room and grabs his jacket. “Thanks,” he says. “I have some errands to run, but I’ll be back later.”
“Cool. See ya,” Atsumu says.
Once he’s gone, Suna says, “So why was he taking his jacket off in your room last night?”
“Probably ‘cause jackets aren’t very comfortable ta sleep in?” Atsumu retorts.
“Wait, since when did he sleep here?” Osamu says, sounding surprised.
Atsumu shrugs. “I dunno. Two night ago, I guess?”
“Does that mean ya--”
“Nothing. Happened,” Atsumu emphasizes. “He literally jus’ slept here. He’s probably jus’ bein’ nice or whatever but--”
“Sakusa doesn’t do ‘nice’,” Suna says flatly. “He likes you.”
Atsumu frowns. “Really?”
“Duh,” Osamu says. “I honestly can’t believe how stupid ya are, it’s so obvious.”
“Okay, well, what am I supposed ta do about it?” Atsumu retorts.
“ Tell him,” Osamu and Suna practically yell.
“Jeez, okay!” Atsumu yelps. “I will, I swear. Jus’ let me be depressed in peace first, okay?”
“Fine,” Osamu says, “but if ya don’ tell him by the end of the month, I swear ta god I’ll show him all of yer stupid pinin’ messages ya send ta me on the daily.”
Atsumu glares at him. “Ya wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” says Osamu, staring him down.
“And if he doesn’t, I will,” Suna adds.
“I said I’d tell him, what more do ya want from me?” Atsumu retorts.
“Fine. I gotta get back ta work,” Osamu says. “Keep me posted on...stuff.”
“Will do,” Atsumu says. “Now shoo.”
Osamu rolls his eyes but leaves, Suna in tow.
Atsumu naps until three, waking only when Kiyoomi comes to his room to check on him.
“Hey,” he says, taking a seat on the bed.
“Hey,” Atsumu replies. “How was practice?”
“Not terrible, I guess,” Kiyoomi admits grudgingly. “Meian says I’m ‘learning to work with others’.”
“Wow, never thought I’d see the day,” Atsumu snarks.
Kiyoomi flicks his forehead. “Do you feel up for practice tomorrow?”
Atsumu thinks for a moment. “Yeah,” he says eventually, “probably.”
“Good. Being nice to Kae is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Yer such a drama queen,” Atsumu drawls.
“Says you,” Kiyoomi fires back.
“Whatever,” Atsumu says dismissively. “I’ll be there tomorrow, so don’t worry yer pretty head about it.”
“Good. Have you eaten yet today?” Kiyoomi says brusquely.
“Nope. I dunno if I’m that hungry, but I suppose I could eat some rice if ya ask me nicely,” Atsumu replies.
“I’m not going to beg you to eat, Miya,” Kiyoomi says flatly.
“Atsumu.”
“I’ll call you Atsumu if you eat,” Kiyoomi says.
“Ah, bribery. My favorite thing after blackmail,” Atsumu says gleefully.
“You’re so fucking weird. If I get you rice will you eat it?” Kiyoomi says.
“I guess. Jus’ not too much, all right?”
“Fine,” Kiyoomi says. “Be back soon.”
Kiyoomi returns fifteen minutes later. “Bokuto had already started rice,” he explains. “He said he’ll swing by with Hinata after they eat.”
“Cool,” says Atsumu, taking the bowl from Kiyoomi. He chews his rice silently as Kiyoomi perches on the edge of the bed.
“Ya can sit where ya usually do,” Atsumu tells him after a bit. “Ya don’t need ta make yerself uncomfortable fer my sake.”
“I’m not uncomfortable,” Kiyoomi says, but he scooches closer, relaxing into the bed.
Bokuto and Shouyou come barging in several minutes later.
“Tsum-Tsum!” Says Bokuto. “How are you doing?” He sits on the bed, Shouyou sitting on his other side, and Kiyoomi moving up beside Atsumu to make room. Atsumu doesn’t mind their proximity; not now.
“I’m doin’ better, Bokkun,” Atsumu says. He’s still a bit tired, but the hopelessness of the past few days has begun to wane.
“Good!” Shouyou chirps. “Kae’s gotten real sick of Omi-san, so we kind of need you back!”
Atsumu turns to Kiyoomi accusingly. “I thought ya said ya were ‘workin’ well with others’,” he says.
“I lied,” Kiyoomi replies. “Meian did say that I was marginally better today, though.”
“He did,” Bokuto agrees, “though I’m not sure why. It’s not true.”
“Basically, we need you back, Tsum-Tsum,” Shouyou concludes.
Atsumu can’t suppress his smile. “I’ll be back,” he tells them. “I promise.”
He does end up feeling well enough the following day to attend both morning practice and weight training in the evening, too. His serves are a bit off, but his sets are as clean as ever, and he’ll have the weekend to catch himself up, anyway.
That night, Inunaki and Shouyou make dinner for the five of them. Shouyou is trying out a traditional Brazilian dish, and Inunaki’s fetching ingredients for him, occasionally stirring the pot and chopping vegetables. Really, he’s not good for much else.
The food is delicious, and Atsumu even feels well enough to have a beer or two after dinner.
“Let’s play a card game!” Shouyou suggests. “Have you guys ever played Pawn Scum?”
Inunaki eyes him. “Is this another one of your obscure games that you’re absolutely going to kick our asses at?”
“Probably,” Shouyou admits. “Wanna play?”
“Yeah!” Says Bokuto enthusiastically. “What are the rules?”
“Okay,” says Shouyou as they migrate to the living room, “So…”
He explains the rules, which are fairly simple--the five of them are assigned the roles of King, Queen, Peasant and Pawn Scum. Since there are five of them, both Atsumu and Bokuto end up being peasants. Kiyoomi starts out as Pawn Scum, Inunaki as King, and Shouyou as Queen.
The goal is to get rid of your cards, and you can only play cards that are greater in value than the cards already put down. Aces are at the top, twos at the bottom, and you must play at least the same amount of cards that the last person put down (but you can play more if you want).
Shouyou is insanely good at the game, as it turns out. He dethrones Inunaki in the first round, and although Atsumu manages to get Queen three times in a row, Shouyou won’t give up his throne no matter how hard Atsumu tries to take it from him.
It’s actually kind of infuriating.
Atsumu’s on his third beer, and he’s getting pretty into the game. Kiyoomi’s on his third beer as well, wearing a perpetual scowl at the fact that he’s been Pawn Scum for the last three rounds. Bokuto and Inunaki are peasants, and Bokuto won’t stop referring to the game as “Pond Scum”.
“It’s ‘Pawn Scum’, Bokkun,” Shouyou explains patiently.
“That makes no sense,” Bokuto says stubbornly. “Pawn Scum isn’t even a real thing. Pond Scum is.”
“But--ugh. Nevermind,” Kiyoomi says, giving up.
Atsumu nudges his shoulder. “Jus’ let him have this one,” he murmurs.
“Only because I’m too tired to argue,” Kiyoomi fires back.
“Sure, Omi.”
In the next round, Atsumu decides to give something a try.
He puts in two sixes, with a five buried underneath. If questioned, it will appear as if the five is one that Shouyou put down, so he can’t be caught. He only has one five, and he really needs to get rid of it, so this just works .
“Atsumu just cheated,” Kiyoomi says immediately.
“What? No I didn’t,” Atsumu lies.
“Yes, you did. I saw that third card you put in,” Kiyoomi insists.
“Yeah, well, why are ya watchin’ me so closely Omi, huh? Tell me that!”
“I watch you because you’re the most likely to cheat, and I was right. Check the cards,” Kiyoomi demands.
Hinata snaps to attention and spreads out the cards that have been put down.
“Why’re there three fives?” He says, confused. “I only put down two.”
“A ha,” Kiyoomi cries, finger pointed at Atsumu. “I knew it.”
“Yer so rude, Omi,” Atsumu grumbles. “Jus’ let me cheat in peace, okay?”
“I think that Atsumu should lose this round by default,” Kiyoomi announces.
“Fine by me,” says Inunaki, shrugging.
“Me, too!” Says Bokuto. “Sorry, Tsum-Tsum.”
Atsumu shoots him a look of betrayal.
He ends up being Pawn Scum for the next two rounds. It takes three rounds before Bokuto, by some mad stroke of luck, manages to dethrone Shouyou.
“I’m the King,” Bokuto declares. “That means we have to stop playing now, because I don’t want to lose my title.”
“Very reasonable, Bokkun,” says Atsumu, nodding sagely. Kiyoomi just rolls his eyes.
They decide to call it a night, shutting off the lights in the living room before heading upstairs. Kiyoomi doesn’t stop at his room, instead following Atsumu to his. If the others notice, they don’t say anything, and neither does Atsumu.
Something wakes him up that night. Atsumu’s not sure what it is, or at least he isn’t until he hears Kiyoomi breathing too fast. Atsumu frowns. “Omi?” He says quietly.
Kiyoomi groans and rolls onto his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow.
“Omi,” Atsumu tries again, shaking him lightly. “Yer havin’ a nightmare or somethin’.”
Kiyoomi’s eyes fly open and he flinches away from Atsumu. He freezes, assessing his surroundings.
“It’s me, Omi,” Atsumu says softly. “Yer okay.”
Kiyoomi breathes in, shaking just a bit, and nods.
“What happened?” Atsumu says. “I mean, ya don’ have ta tell me if ya don’ want ta, but--”
“It’s just a panic attack,” Kiyoomi breathes. “Sometimes I’m dreaming that I’m having one and then I actually have one. It’s no big deal.”
“Oh, yeah, and I guess my mood swings are no big deal either, huh?” Atsumu says.
“They are a big deal,” Kiyoomi says, confused. “This is different.”
“Sure, but it’s still a lot ta deal with. Ya might have some kinda anxiety, or maybe ya jus’ get these sometimes, but either way, don’t invalidate somethin’ that’s hurtin’ ya.”
Kiyoomi nods slowly. “Okay.”
“Are ya gonna be okay now?” Atsumu asks him gently.
“Yeah,” Kiyoomi says, “I’ll be fine.” He hesitates, and then says, “Can you hold me? Just for a little bit,” he adds quickly. “But you don’t have to--”
“Omi, it’s fine,” Atsumu assures him. “Lie down, okay?”
Kiyoomi lies next to Atsumu, and Atsumu puts his arms around him. Kiyoomi’s stiff at first, but he slowly relaxes into Atsumu’s body. Atsumu hopes Kiyoomi can’t feel how fast his heart is beating as Kiyoomi’s heat comes to rest on Atsumu’s shoulder.
When Atsumu wakes up, Kiyoomi’s still sleeping. He’d rolled over at some point, back to Atsumu, and Atsumu wonders for a moment if last night really happened.
Then Kiyoomi, still sleeping, turns over and pulls Atsumu to him. Atsumu slings an arm across his body and closes his eyes.
After a while, Kiyoomi mumbles, “Atsumu? Are you awake?”
“Hhmph?” Atsumu grunts, still half asleep.
“I’m going to take that as a yes,” says Kiyoomi. “Do you want breakfast?”
Atsumu nods into Kiyoomi’s chest.
“Okay,” Kiyoomi says, “I’m going to go make something.”
“Don’t burn it,” Atsumu mumbles.
He feels Kiyoomi’s warmth leave and pulls the covers up over his face, basking in the remaining warmth.
Kiyoomi returns about fifteen minutes later.
“Breakfast, dumbass,” he says.
“Omi! Be nice ta me, it’s too early fer ya ta be so grouchy,” Atsumu whines.
“The fact that it’s early is the reason I’m grouchy. Now get up,” says Kiyoomi, shaking the covers as if ridding the bed of a rat.
Atsumu rolls out of bed and grabs a hoodie before following Kiyoomi downstairs to the kitchen. Bokuto, Shouyou and Inunaki are already in the living room, sprawled on the furniture and eating…
“Ya made pancakes?” Atsumu says, amazed. “I thought yer cookin’ was shit.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like recipes,” Kiyoomi admits. “I just decided to follow one for once.”
“How do ya cook without recipes, Omi?” Says Atsumu, confused.
“I don’t.” Kiyoomi pushes Atsumu towards the kitchen. “Now hurry up and get some before they get cold.”
Atsumu grabs a plate and loads it with pancakes, fruit, syrup. Then he takes a seat on the sofa next to Inunaki.
“Mornin’,” Inunaki says while chewing. “How arth you?”
“Good today, Wan-san,” Atsumu says cheerfully.
“That’s good to hear!” Shouyou chirps. “You were scaring us for a bit there.”
“Ah, don’ worry about me,” Atsumu replies easily. “I’m fine.”
A hand comes down and smacks his head. Atsumu winces and leans away. “What was that fer!”
“Stop saying you’re fine, none of us are convinced,” Kiyoomi says sternly.
“Yeah, well, I’m better than I was!” Atsumu protests.
“That doesn’t mean you’re fine, it means you’re better,” Kiyoomi points out, coming around the couch to take the seat on Atsumu’s other side.
“Yeah, Tsum-Tsum, you don’t need to pretend you’re all good all the time,” Bokuto chimes in.
“We’re here for you,” says Inunaki, slapping him on the back.
Atsumu sighs. “Thanks, guys.”
“‘Course,” says Shouyou, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.
Atsumu shovels pancakes into his mouth to mask the burning in his throat.
After breakfast, Kiyoomi and Shouyou head to the gym, while Inunaki starts binge watching some new crime show he’s obsessed with.
“Wanna go fer a walk or somethin’?” Atsumu says to Bokuto.
“Sure!” Says Bokuto. “Lemme grab some socks from my room and I’ll meet you down here in a few.”
“Sounds good,” says Atsumu.
They head out around eleven, walking in the opposite direction of the gym. Atsumu hasn’t done much exploring yet out this way. They stroll past quaint coffee shops, storefronts and even a small boba place. Atsumu makes a mental note to take Kiyoomi there sometime.
They end up at a park about a mile away from the sharehouse. The trees are just starting to leaf out, the last of the cherry blossoms decorating the ground. They find a soft patch of grass to sit in and throw themselves down, rolling over to face the sky.
“So,” Bokuto says after a moment, “how are you feeling about the game next week?”
“Nervous,” Atsumu admits. “Seein’ as we lost ta them fer real before, I jus’ don’ want that ta happen again, ya know?”
“I understand,” Bokuto says softly. “It was an off day for me, too, you know. I didn’t really say anything at the time, but I was kinda struggling, too.”
“‘M sorry I didn’ notice,” Atsumu says, feeling guilty.
“Don’t be. You had a lot going on,” Bokuto reassures him. “I just really want to win against them this time, you know? We deserve to win.”
“Yeah, we do,” Atsumu agrees. “All of us.”
“I’m glad that our team is all getting along for once, honestly,” Bokuto continues. “I mean, I was really scared for a while that you and Omi wouldn’t be okay. And it’s not as if you weren’t friends, it’s just that--” Bokuto chews his lip. “I think you’re both pretty similar, and that’s what always caused you to butt heads.”
“I think so too,” Atsumu says thoughtfully. “I underestimated his capacity ta care, I think. An’ he’s kinda proved ta all of us that he cares about us, not jus’ as teammates, but as friends, too.”
“Yeah. I mean, two months ago I never would have guessed he’d agree to go grocery shopping with Shou-kun,” Bokuto says. “I used to think he didn’t have the patience for any of us, but I guess I was wrong.”
“Omi’s the most patient person I’ve ever met,” Atsumu says honestly. “I never saw that one comin’.”
“None of us did,” Bokuto says. “He’s been really helpful lately, too. He practiced receives with me for, like, three hours after practice on Monday, and he’s been helping Shouyou with his jump serve, too. I even caught him helping Inunaki clean the living room last week.”
“He’s come a long way,” Atsumu agrees.
“He has, but so have you,” Bokuto tells him.
“Ya think so?”
“Yeah,” says Bokuto. “You’re different these days. It’s like you have a better grip on everything, even the things that are out of your control.”
Atsumu considers this for a moment. It’s true that he’s been feeling a lot better recently, apart from the occasional mood swings. It could be the meds, of course, and Atsumu’s sure that at least some of it is, but he thinks it’s more than that.
It’s the fact that he has such a strong support system, that he has people he trusts enough to open up to.
It’s the fact that he has people who make room for him.
Notes:
I honestly didn't really plan to make Atsumu have another depressive episode but then I had a minor one and remembered some stuff I had intended to include in the fic about depression etc, so had to write it
Bokuto Atsumu friendship supremacy !!!!!!!!!
Huge thank you for all the love, I'm so happy I get to share this with y'all <3
Chapter 12
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“ Don’t you think you should tell him?” Motoya’s voice filters through the phone speaker, slightly muffled by the pillow Kiyoomi’s phone is sitting on.
“I will,” Kiyoomi says. “I need more time.”
“ Why are you so scared? You know how he feels.”
Does he, though?”
“I think I know how he feels,” Kiyoomi corrects him. “That doesn’t mean he won’t reject me.”
“So you’re scared he’ll reject you? Or are you scared that he won’t?”
“I don’t know. Both, maybe,” Kiyoomi confesses.
“ Or maybe you’re just scared that you’ll hurt him again.”
Kiyoomi freezes. “Uh.”
“ Kiyo, it’s okay to be scared,” Motoya assures him. “ But you can’t let that keep you from living.”
“It’s just...I hurt him so badly before, and I had no idea,” Kiyoomi says. “I was so awful to him. Even if he has forgiven me, how do I know I won’t hurt him again?”
“ You won’t hurt him.”
“How can you be so sure?” Kiyoomi says desperately.
“ Because I know you, and I’ve seen the way you act when you’re around him,” Motoya says. “ You know how to communicate with him now, and as long as you put in the effort, that’s not going to change.”
“But--”
“ Look, ” says Motoya patiently, “ I know you’re scared, but you will hurt yourself far more by not telling him than you will by telling him.”
“How do you know?” Kiyoomi repeats.
“ I know you, and I’ve seen the way you are with him. This is something special, Kiyo. Don’t let it pass you by.”
Kiyoomi considers Motoya’s words later that evening. He’s not really that worried about losing his temper with Atsumu, or anything like that. He’s just worried that he’ll misread things, or that he’ll say something stupid without realizing it. Whether or not he intends to hurt Atsumu makes no difference, really. He just doesn’t want to risk it, or risk losing Atsumu, either.
But if he doesn’t tell him…
Kiyoomi shakes the thought from his head. He should go to bed; they’ve got a practice game with the Adlers tomorrow afternoon, and Kiyoomi wants to be at his best. They’ve got a score to settle, after all.
He’s not really that tired, though. Maybe some tea will help.
Kiyoomi slides his feet into his slippers and shuffles downstairs. The kitchen light is already on, and as he rounds the corner Kiyoomi spots Hinata perched on one of their kitchen stools, eating grapes and scrolling on his phone. He glances up when Kiyoomi enters the kitchen and grins. “Omi-san!” He says. “What are you still doing up?”
“I could say the same to you,” Kiyoomi says.
Hinata shrugs. “Can’t sleep yet. Did you know that grapes contain melatonin?”
“I did not,” says Kiyoomi honestly. He puts on a pot of water before turning back to Hinata. “So they help you sleep, then?”
“Yep!” Chirps Hinata. “I used to have a lot of trouble falling asleep the night before a match. When I lived in Brazil, my roommate had all sorts of natural remedies for insomnia and stuff--you know, candles, tea, all that. This was my favorite one, though. Grapes are just so gwahh!”
“Sure,” Kiyoomi agrees, bemused. “Are you nervous to go up against Kageyama?”
Hinata shrugs. “Not really. I’m mostly just excited to win this time.”
“What makes you so sure that we will?” Says Kiyoomi.
“You and Tsum-Tsum are getting along again,” Hinata tells him. “There’s no way we can lose. You guys are crazy when you get synced up, and when you’re on your game you get, like, so many service aces for us! Who’s winning right now, anyway?”
“Atsumu is,” Kiyoomi says reproachfully. “Only by two, though.”
“I think it’s so cool that you compete like that!” Hinata says. “Kageyama and I used to do that a lot. We still do, actually,” he adds, his smile turning fond.
“Are you guys dating? Kiyoomi blurts before he can stop himself.
Hinata laughs. “Not really. We’re just, like, partners, you know? We’re not romantically involved like you and Tsum-Tsum.”
Kiyoomi pales. “Wait, what?”
Hinata looks confused. “You two are dating, right?”
“No,” says Kiyoomi. “I mean--”
Hinata’s eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Kiyoomi says dully.
“But you want to, right?” Hinata guesses.
Kiyoomi makes a face. “Am I really that easy to read?”
“Both of you are,” Hinata replies. “So why haven’t you told him, then?”
Kiyoomi hesitates. “I guess I’m just scared.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Hinata tells him. “I mean, he definitely likes you, too.”
“That’s what Motoya said,” Kiyoomi mutters. “I don’t know, though.”
Hinata’s eyes gleam. “Let’s make a bet.”
“What kind of bet,” Kiyoomi says cautiously.
Hinata grins. “If we win the game tomorrow, you have to ask out Atsumu.”
“Fine,” says Kiyoomi, steeling himself. “I can do that. I was going to, anyway.”
“No you weren’t,” says Hinata. “You’re bad at lying, you know. I feel like your personality makes you seem like you should have a poker face, but you’re super expressive.”
Kiyoomi doesn’t know what to make of that.
The kettle starts screaming then, and Kiyoomi rushes to turn it off before pouring a mug of chamomile. “Do you want any?” He asks Hinata.
“I’m good with my grapes,” Hinata replies. “Thanks, though.”
“Sure. Thanks for the advice, I guess.”
“No problem, Omi-san!” Hinata says cheerfully. He hops off his stool and rinses out his bowl, depositing it in the dish drainer. “I’m gonna get to sleep now,” he announces. “Night, Omi!”
“Goodnight, Hinata,” Kiyoomi replies.
He lets his tea steep for a few minutes before tossing out the tea bag and shutting off the kitchen light.
He sleeps well that night. He doesn’t dream of anything in particular, just soft shapes drifting in and out of his field of vision, and the sensation of warmth.
He wakes up three minutes before his alarm goes off. Once he’s dressed, he packs a bag for the day. Although the game is in Tokyo, they don’t plan on staying the night, instead planning to head back to Osaka around eight PM. Kiyoomi grabs a blanket, knowing he’ll likely fall asleep on the six hour ride home.
He meets the others downstairs at nine. Bokuto is cooking eggs while Hinata monitors the rice cooker, and Inunaki is already seated at the table with a mug of coffee, watching something on his phone.
“Where’s--” Kiyoomi starts just as Atsumu bursts into the room. “I’m here!” He sings. “Sorry ‘m late, I overslept jus’ a bit.” He grins when he spots Kiyoomi. “Mornin’, Omi.”
“Morning,” Kiyoomi replies, starting a pot of coffee.
“Did you sleep well, Tsum-Tsum?” Says Bokuto.
“Like a baby,” says Atsumu.
“Good,” says Hinata. “We’re gonna win today, I can feel it.” He shoots Kiyoomi a smug smile, and Kiyoomi scowls, remembering their bet. At least he didn’t say when I’d have to tell him, he consoles himself.
He turns off the stove when the coffee starts to burble and carefully lifts the pot, using a dishtowel to cover the handle metal handle. Inunaki’s the only one in their household who drinks coffee regularly apart from Kiyoomi, and he already has some, so Kiyoomi pours the rest out for himself.
Once they’ve all eaten breakfast, the five of them leave for the gym. They’re meeting at 9:45 so that they have time to debrief before leaving.
Meian gathers them outside the front of the gym as they wait for the bus to arrive.
“So,” he starts, “our last game against the Adlers was a hot mess. I’m not going to tell you where we went wrong, because I don’t really know where we did. What I do know is that nothing about that game was fun. It was pretty painful, in all honesty. So all I’m asking of you is that this time, not only do we fight, but we enjoy it, too. Remember, this is a friendly practice game,” he adds, looking directly at Atsumu.
“When am I ever not friendly?” Atsumu protests.
Kiyoomi snorts. “I don’t think you’re as amicable as you think you are, Miya.”
“Rude, Omi!”
Coach Foster pulls up then, in the usual bus they use for away games.
“All right,” Meian announces. “Try to get some sleep in on the way there. We’ll be getting a light lunch at 4:30, and warm ups start at 5:15.”
“Yes, sir,” Hinata says, saluting Meian. He boards first, followed by Bokuto, Inunaki and Atsumu. Kiyoomi trails behind Atsumu, who stops several seats from the front and gestures at Kiyoomi. “After ya,” he says.
Kiyoomi nods gratefully and slides into the seat, taking the spot next to the window. Atsumu takes a seat beside him. “So,” he says, “ya brought blankets, right?”
“No,” says Kiyoomi flatly.
“Aw, c’mon Omi,” Atsumu whines. “Don’tcha want me ta be well rested so that I can get more service aces than ya?”
“You’re really not helping your case,” Kiyoomi replies.
Atsumu pouts.
Then Bokuto sticks his head over the seat--because of course he’s sitting in front of them--and says, “Omi, don’t be so mean! Can’t you see he’s suffering?”
Kiyoomi looks back at Atsumu, who’s batting his eyelashes.
“He looks fine to me,” he says.
“He looks like he’s going to cry,” Hinata observes from beside Bokuto. His head is barely able to clear the back of his seat, and he’s likely standing up, too.
“He’s fine,” Kiyoomi says. He glances at Atsumu, who’s now sniffling slightly. “You sound sick,” Kiyoomi tells him. “If you’re going to do that, please sit elsewhere.”
“Rude, Omi!” Atsumu cries. Then, to Kiyoomi’s absolute horror, tears begin to form at the corners of his eyes. “‘M jus’...so...cold,” Atsumu mumbles pitifully.
“ Fine,” Kiyoomi snaps, tossing his blanket at Atsumu’s head. “But stop that thing with your eyes. Immediately .”
“It’s called crying, Omi-san,” Hinata chirps. “You should try it sometime.”
Kiyoomi glowers at him until he ducks behind the seat, frightened. When he turns back to Atsumu, he’s smiling brightly at Kiyoomi, cheeks only slightly tearstained.
“Have you ever heard of the boy who cried wolf?” Says Kiyoomi dryly.
“Nah,” says Atsumu. “Didn’ even realize wolves could cry, honestly.”
“That’s not--ugh. Nevermind,” says Kiyoomi. “And you’d better not hog that blanket, I didn’t have room to pack a second one.”
“Aw, does that mean ya would have if there was room? Ya do care about me, Omi-Omi!” Says Atsumu, smiling crookedly.
Kiyoomi chooses not to respond. What’s he gonna do, deny the fact that he cares about Atsumu? Atsumu already knows how he feels.
Probably.
Atsumu passes over a corner of the blanket and scooches closer. Kiyoomi lets him, partly because he’s warm, and partly because he really doesn’t mind when Atsumu touches him. He’s not really sure when that happened, but now Kiyoomi can’t imagine being uncomfortable around him.
They arrive in Tokyo around four. It takes them fifteen minutes to find a parking garage, and another ten to get to the restaurant.
After a quick lunch, the team heads to the gym. It’s within walking distance of the restaurant, and they arrive about fifteen minutes before they’re supposed to start warming up. They find the locker room and get changed before meeting Coach Foster in the main gym.
The Adlers have yet to arrive, it seems. Hinata’s practically thrumming with anticipation, and Atsumu seems amped up as well.
“All right,” Coach Foster says, “let’s get started. Meian already gave you the whole inspirational-speech-thing, which is good because you all know by now I’m not so great at that.”
“That’s what you have me for, Coach,” Meian chimes in.
Coach Foster smiles before continuing. “I know our last loss to the Adlers was brutal. This game may appear to have less pressure, but it’s also your chance to redeem yourselves. No one expects us to win, not after our last performance, which is why we’re going to win. Fight like you’ve got nothing to lose, because you don’t. Now go kick some ass,” Foster finishes, grinning savagely.
“I don’t know, Coach, I think that was pretty inspirational,” says Barnes. Kiyoomi has to agree.
Just as they’re starting their stretches, the Adlers stroll into the gym as if they own the place. They do own the place, so fair enough, Kiyoomi supposes.
Ushijima takes the lead, followed by Kageyama, Hoshiumi and Romero, along with a bunch of other players Kiyoomi’s never bothered to get to know.
Hinata jumps to his feet when he sees Kageyama, racing over to him and practically jumping on top of him.
“Get off, midget,” Kageyama growls as Hinata assaults him.
“Shut your face,” Hinata says, clinging to his back. Kageyama stops trying to shake him off after a moment and resigns himself to his fate, carrying Hinata back over to where the Jackals are stretching.
“Hey Miya, Sakusa,” he says as he approaches, nodding at them both.
Bokuto pouts. “Don’t I get a hello?”
“Hi, Bokuto,” Kageyama says warily.
“Aw, Bakageyama, don’t be so impersonal,” Hinata teases him.
“I will drop you,” Kageyama threatens.
“You’re not even holding me.” It’s true; Hinata’s basically just hanging off of him at this point.
“I will shake you off,” Kageyama corrects.
“You don’t have the guts,” taunts Hinata.
“Wanna bet, cheeto head?”
The two of them start bickering, and they don’t stop until both teams have finished stretching. Kiyoomi’s honestly impressed that they’re able to thoroughly stretch while running their mouths like that.
“Must be nice, huh?” Says Atsumu. Kiyoomi glances at him to find him watching the pair, expression wistful.
Kiyoomi finds himself nodding. It would be nice.
Don’t let it pass you by.
Kiyoomi decides then and there that he’s going to tell Atsumu, whether or not they win.
The team goes to line up, and Meian wins the coin toss, choosing to receive. Inunaki and Kiyoomi are both starting off in the back, so Meian must not be too concerned about their chances of receiving Kageyama’s serve.
His serve is a monster, Kiyoomi remembers just as the ball ricochets off his forearms. It goes up, thank god, and Hinata receives it, passing straight to Atsumu. Bokuto’s already in the air, and just like that, they’ve got the first point of the game.
The score goes back and forth for a while. Barnes gets subbed in for a bit so that he can try out his and Atsumu’s new quick, and that gets them a two point lead. They end up taking the first set, but Kiyoomi knows the match is far from over.
The Adlers take the second set without too much trouble. By the end of the third, both teams are still going strong, fighting for each and every point. The set ends up going to a deuce, which Atsumu manages to break with one of his godly setter dumps, along with a quick attack by Hinata.
Only one more set to take, Kiyoomi thinks.
The Adlers take the fourth set, but it’s a close one. By the time the fifth set begins, both teams are starting to wear down, and both refuse to budge.
Atsumu gets two service aces in a row at the start of the set, bringing his tally up to 57, to Kiyoomi’s 53. Kiyoomi ends up getting one during his rotation, but even so, the fact that Atsumu’s beating him at something grates on him.
Kiyoomi’s so fixated on outdoing Atsumu that it takes him a moment to realize they’re winning the game. The score’s 13-11 in favor of the Jackals, and Bokuto’s wicked cut shot takes another point, bringing them up to match point.
Kiyoomi’s up to serve again, and this time he’s determined to take a point. Maybe he won’t beat Atsumu today; he still has the chance to beat his actual opponents, and for now, that’s enough.
The ball flies up as if in slow motion, and Kiyoomi’s hand slams into it at the perfect angle. He aims for the left corner of the court, and for just a moment, he thinks it’s going out. Then the ball lands, just within the lines. None of the Adlers even got a hand on it.
The gym is silent for a moment, the moment before the whistle blows, and then it explodes into noise. The team practically jumps on Kiyoomi, and he’s so exhausted that he doesn’t even mind. What’s a little more sweat, anyway?
“That was incredible, Omi-san!” Hinata rambles. “I totally thought it was going out!”
“So did I,” Kiyoomi admits.
“Yeah, well, I’m still winnin’ our competition,” Atsumu says smugly.
Inunaki groans. “Not this again.”
“What’s the score now?” Says Barnes. “Are you in the hundreds yet?”
“Not yet,” Kiyoomi tells him. “Atsumu’s winning, 57-55.”
“That’s close,” Meian says, sounding impressed.
“Yeah, but I’m winnin’,” Atsumu repeats. “Y’all heard that, right?”
“Nobody cares,” Adriah drawls. “Now c’mon, we need to line up.”
After the game, Meian announces that they’ll be getting dinner with the Adlers. They end up at an izakaya part way between the gym and the garage where the bus is parked, for convenience's sake. Kiyoomi finds himself at a table with Atsumu, Bokuto, Inunaki, Hoshiumi and Ushijima. It’s pretty loud, but at least Hinata and Kageyama are seated elsewhere.
Small mercies.
Kiyoomi spends some time catching up with Ushijima, since he rarely gets the chance.
“Are you still living with the others?” Ushijima asks him in his usual monotone.
“Yes,” says Kiyoomi. “It’s--”
“Great!” Atsumu interjects brightly. “Right, Omi?”
“I was going to say ‘chaotic’,” Kiyoomi says. “Do you live together, too?”
“I have an apartment,” Ushijima replies. “Hoshiumi, Romero and Kageyama do, though.”
“What’s that like?” Kiyoomi says, addressing Hoshiumi.
“It’s pretty fun,” says Hoshiumi. “They’re both pretty respectful roommates.”
“Ah, yes,” says Atsumu. “Little Tobio’s always been such a goody-two-shoes.”
Hoshiumi snickers. “I forgot you called him that.”
“When was that?” Ushijima asks them.
“At the All Japan Youth Camp our second year,” says Kiyoomi. “Miya was a menace. Still is, actually,” he adds.
“Rude!”
After dinner, the Jackals say their goodbyes before heading to the parking garage. It’s about 7:45, so they’re a bit ahead of schedule, which is fine by Kiyoomi. It doesn’t matter much, though, seeing as Kiyoomi plans to sleep on the way back.
“Omi?” Atsumu says when they board the bus. “Will ya share yer blanket with me?”
Kiyoomi sighs. “Do I have a choice?”
“Not really,” Atsumu admits.
“Is he bothering you?” Meian asks Kiyoomi as Atsumu slides into the seat beside him.
“He’s fine,” Kiyoomi says grudgingly. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Meian’s eyebrows rise but he says nothing, only nodding in response. Then he turns to the group. “Get some sleep on the way home,” he tells them. “Trust me, you’ll need it. Also, Foster told me to remind you all that there will be no practice tomorrow morning, and weight training is optional.”
“Thank god,” mutters Inunaki.
Meian takes a seat towards the front, and Foster starts up the engine.
Kiyoomi’s too exhausted to recall most of the ride back. He ends up falling asleep slumped against Atsumu, and is unconscious for the remainder of the trip.
When they arrive at the gym, Kiyoomi shakes Atsumu gently to wake him. He blinks up at Kiyoomi sleepily and yawns, jaw cracking audibly.
Inunaki groans. “I can’t believe we still have to walk home.”
“Are you tired, Wan-san?” Hinata chirps. “I can carry you, if you want.”
“Screw off,” mutters Inunaki.
Foster gathers them outside the bus. “So,” he says, smiling slightly, “that was a great game. You’ve certainly redeemed yourself. It really is too bad it wasn’t televised,” he adds thoughtfully.
“Thanks, Coach,” says Adriah.
“Yeah, thank you for organizing the game!” Says Barnes. “It was great practice.”
“It was no trouble,” Foster replies. “Now go home, and get some rest. I’ll see you all on Monday.”
“Yes, Coach!” The tean choruses.
Inunaki, Bokuto, Hinata, Atsumu and Kiyoomi head back to the sharehouse together. Kiyoomi follows Atsumu to his room out of habit, and Atsumu lets him in without a word.
The following morning, Kiyoomi leaves Atsumu’s room and heads back to his own to shower and change. He wanders downstairs, starting coffee in his terrible pot before going to check the mail. There’s a package for him, which is strange because Kiyoomi doesn’t remember ordering anything recently. He frowns, wracking his brain for any idea of what it could be, and comes up empty.
Maybe it’s something from one of my sponsorships?
Only one way to find out, Kiyoomi supposes. He brings the mail inside, turning off the burbling coffee pot before taking the package straight to his room.
Kiyoomi tears open the cardboard using a pair of scissors and sorts through the foam pieces surrounding a smaller box nestled inside.
He pulls it out and examines the image on the box. It’s an espresso pot, a fancy one with a nice shape to it, perfectly sized, and…a rubber handle .
There’s only one person who would do this for Kiyoomi.
Kiyoomi sets down the box and marches to Atsumu’s room. He pounds on the door until a sleepy looking Atsumu answers, smiling his lopsided smile when he sees Kiyoomi. “Hey--huh?” Atsumu grunts as Kiyoomi wraps him in a hug. “What’s this for?” He mumbles into Kyoomi’s hair.
“The espresso pot,” Kiyoomi explains. He pulls back and squints at Atsumu. “That was you, right?”
“‘Course it was,” Atsumu says. “Yer old one is so pathetic, an’ I can’t have my favorite hitter risk burnin’ his hands, now can I?”
“Guess not,” murmurs Kiyoomi. Then without thinking he blurts, “Wanna go for a walk?”
“Sure,” Atsumu replies. “I gotta shower, but meet ya downstairs in 20?”
“Sounds good,” says Kiyoomi.
He goes back downstairs to get his coffee before heading back to his room and changing into shorts, a t-shirt, and one of his less offensive pairs of neon sneakers. He’s just grateful it’s finally warm outside; the late May afternoon is a sunny 67 degrees.
He meets Atsumu downstairs around ten thirty. Atsumu’s eyes go straight to his sneakers when he turns to Kiyoomi.
“What? The’re less neon than most of them,” Kiyoomi defends.
“Yer like a walkin’ traffic cone,” Atsumu tells him.
“Fuck off.”
They walk through the neighborhood, in the general direction of the park. The streets are calm and quiet, nearly empty of cars, and the sun is warm on Kiyoomi’s back. The trees are fully leafed out at this point, and when the sun comes through them it turns them a green so bright it looks fake.
They’re about a half mile from the sharehouse when Atsumu spots the cat. “Omi!” He hisses excitedly, putting a hand out to stop Kiyoomi in his tracks. “Look!”
It’s a calico cat, with patches of black and tan and red. It looks underfed, and it’s a little bit dirty, but Atsumu is enamored nonetheless.
“Here, kitty,” he coos, stepping tentatively closer.
The cat glances up, takes one look at Atsumu, and bolts the other direction.
“Kitty!” Yells Atsumu, running after it. Kiyoomi curses and follows him.
The cat leads them down a short alley and over a low wall bordering the park before disappearing into a patch of bushes.
“Nooo,” Atsumu groans, panting. “I jus’ wanted ta say hi!”
“I think the cat got the message,” Kiyoomi says, also breathing heavily.
Atsumu pouts. “It looked like it needed a home, didn’t it?”
“Maybe it lives in the park,” Kiyoomi suggests. “It looked pretty comfortable here, after all.”
“Ya really think so?” Atsumu says, voice hopeful.
“I do,” says Kiyoomi. “Maybe we could leave food for it sometime.”
“We totally should!” Says Atsumu enthusiastically. “Yer a genius, Omi.”
“I’m really not,” says Kiyoomi.
“Yes, ya are,” says Atsumu firmly. “Yer…” He trails off, staring at Kiyoomi.
“I’m what?” Says Kiyoomi self consciously.
“Yer everythin’,” Atsumu says simply.
Kiyoomi stares at him for a moment. Then he says, without thinking, “Atsumu, can I kiss you?”
Atsumu nods silently. Kiyoomi steps into his space and lifts a hand to cup Atsumu’s jaw before leaning in.
The kiss is soft and slow, though far from gentle, and Kiyoomi hardly registers the details--the way Atsumu puts his hands on Kiyoomi’s waist, the way Atsumu’s breath feels against his cheek, the way his eyes flutter shut--because he’s so consumed by the fact that he’s kissing Miya Atsumu.
When Atsumu finally pulls away, Kiyoomi feels like all the breath has been stolen from his lungs, like he’s been chasing stray cats all over the city, like he’s been kissing Miya Atsumu.
They stare at each other wordlessly for a moment, and then Atsumu says, “Do that again.”
So Kiyoomi does.
Notes:
fun fact: I learned that grapes contain melatonin after writing the bit with Hinata eating them. I guess I’m just psychic or something ! haha anyway, I’m already mostly done with the epilogue, so it should be up soon.
Thank you to everyone who’s made it this far, so much love for y’all <3<3<3
Chapter 13
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Not much changes after Kiyoomi kisses Atsumu.
They’re still friends before everything else, after all. It’s an easy transition; their relationship is as it was, except now they kiss each other and…stuff. The only people who know about it are Osamu (and Suna by extension), and Motoya, and both of them found out on accident, anyway. Shouyou and Bokuto probably know too, even though Atsumu and Kiyoomi never actually bothered to bring it up with them.
Atsumu’s definitely not ashamed of their relationship, but it’s kind of nice to have a secret for once.
In July, Atsumu brings Kiyoomi with him to Amagasaki. He introduces Kiyoomi as his 'friend', but he can tell his mother knows. She’s shrewd, so he really doesn’t need to say anything.
They don’t really define the relationship, which works for both of them, until it doesn’t.
They’re grocery shopping a week after Kiyoomi introduces Atsumu to his parents when Atsumu brings it up.
“So are we, like, datin’?” He blurts as Kiyoomi examines a mango.
Kiyoomi drops the mango. Lucky for him (and the mango), he’d been holding it over the cart, so it drops in between the box of wipes and the bag of grapes they’d collected so far.
“I would assume so,” Kiyoomi replies eventually.
Atsumu frowns, pondering his response. He mulls it over as they pay for their groceries and carry the bags back to the sharehouse. Once they’re back in Atsumu’s room--they tend to spend most of their time there, seeing as it’s generally cozier than Kiyoomi’s--Atsumu says, “So then yer my boyfriend?”
“Obviously,” Kiyoomi says.
“Well, pardon me fer not knowin’ that!” Atsumu exclaims. “I mean, it’s not like we’ve talked about what this meant or whatever.”
“What does this mean, then?” Kiyoomi says patiently.
Atsumu hesitates. “It means that it’s real, ta me. All of it. Maybe a little too real, ta be honest. I’m still scared yer gonna ditch me next time my episodes get ta be too much, even though I know better than that. I’m scared yer gonna get bored of me, or leave me fer somethin’ better. I dunno,” he says awkwardly, studying Kiyoomi’s placid expression.
“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says calmly, “you’re not too much. I understand why you might think that, but I promise you that if there’s ever a time when I can’t be there for you as much as I’d like to be, I’ll tell you. I won’t ever take my issues out on you. If we continue to communicate with each other, then I’m not worried about that. And I’m not going to leave you for something better, because for me, there is nothing better. Do you trust me?”
“Yeah,” Atsumu breathes.
“Okay, then,” says Kiyoomi. “This is real to me. All of it. Maybe a little too real, but that’s okay, because I trust you, too.”
Atsumu doesn’t know what to say to that. He sags forward, letting his head drop to Kiyoomi’s shoulder, and Kiyoomi wraps his arms around him.
That’s okay, because I trust you too.
On Saturday, Atsumu and Kiyoomi, along with Bokuto, Shouyou and Inunaki, head to the park to meet the others for a ‘team bonding picnic’. Shouyou and Bokuto make brownies for the occasion, while Atsumu supplies the group with onigiri.
They arrive at the park around noon and find Meian easily, as he’s already got a blanket set up in the grass beneath a large tree. Adriah and Barnes show up a few minutes later, bearing fruit salad and beverages for the team, and even Kae shows up, though he mostly hangs around Adriah, since he’s not really all that close with anyone else on the team.
“Glad you all could make it,” Meian says once they’re all seated, looking pointedly at Kae. “I really do believe that these bonding experiences will help us develop connections as a team, so I’m grateful that all of you are willing participants. Today is not for strategizing--actually, I’d rather not hear any talk about volleyball, period. I just want you all to enjoy yourselves and have a good time.”
“Good speech, Cap,” calls Atsumu.
Meian takes a seat and begins handing out paper plates, and food is passed around their haphazard circle. Atsumu takes a couple of onigiri and a whole lot of grapes--they’ve been a regular staple in his diet ever since Kiyoomi mentioned they contained melatonin, and he eats them frequently before bed to keep his circadian rhythms on track.
“Here, Omi, catch,” Atsumu says suddenly, tossing a grape at Kiyoomi’s face. It hits him in the eye before falling into his lap, and Atsumu promptly throws another, this time nailing him in the mouth. Kiyoomi catches the grape between his teeth, and Atsumu smiles softly before tossing one into his own mouth.
He notices the silence suddenly, and looks up to find Adriah examining the two of them.
“What?” Atsumu says self consciously.
“You just hit Sakusa in the eye with a grape,” Adriah says incredulously, “and he didn’t kill you.”
“Are you sick or something?” Inunaki addresses Kiyoomi, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Kiyoomi replies.
“Okay, then,” Inunaki says, “respectfully, what the fuck.”
“Maybe Omi’s going soft,” Bokuto tries.
“For Atsumu, sure,” Inunaki mutters. Then his eyes grow wide. “Wait a fucking minute! Y’all are--”
“Dating? Yes, we are,” Kiyoomi says casually.
“What, you guys didn’t know?” Shouyou says, sounding surprised.
“Of course we didn’t know!” Inunaki cries. “How were we supposed to find out?”
“Wan-san,” Shouyou says patiently, “they literally cuddle every time we watch movies together.”
“Yeah, but I thought they were just really good--you know what? Nevermind,” he says, voice resigned.
“Who here knew they were dating?” Adriah says.
Shouyou’s hand goes up, as does Bokuto’s, followed by Meian’s. Even Kae raises a hand, looking bored as he watches the scene unfold.
“I suspected,” Barnes admits. “I just figured it was none of our business.”
Adriah looks upset. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us,” he says. “And Kae knew? No offense, Kae.”
“None taken,” says Kae. “I mean, it was pretty obvious they liked each other. My sets aren’t that bad compared to Miya’s, Sakusa just plays favorites.”
Atsumu snorts. “I knew ya were overreactin’ bout his sets,” he says to Kiyoomi.
“I just like yours better,” Kiyoomi says unashamedly.
Kae gags, and Inunaki looks disgusted. “Gross,” he mutters. “I swear to god, if the two of you defile our locker room or anything like that--”
Kiyoomi’s nose wrinkles. “Do you seriously believe that I would have sex in a locker room,” he says flatly.
“Are ya implyin’ that I would? ‘Cause that’s what it sounds like,” Atsumu says indignantly.
“You--”
“Okay,” Meian says loudly. “That’s enough. I’m sure neither of you will let your…relationship affect the team dynamic, so if that’s settled, then--”
“When did this even start?” Adriah interrupts.
“They’ve literally been dating for a year,” says Kae.
Barnes frowns. “I thought it was closer to six months.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” says Shouyou.
“I literally told you we weren’t dating, Hinata,” Kiyoomi says.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t put it past you to lie about that--”
“Six weeks,” Atsumu interrupts.
Inunaki looks appalled. “And you didn’t tell us?”
“Really? Only six weeks?” Says Barnes, sounding surprised.
Meian groans. “Guys--”
“So you really did tell him after the Adler’s game!” Says Shouyou, addressing Kiyoomi. “I’m so proud of you, Omi-san!”
“I still can’t believe you managed to keep a secret for that long, Tsum-Tsum,” Bokuto says, sounding impressed.
“Yeah,” says Inunaki, “for someone with such a big mouth--”
“Guys,” says Meian. “Please, for the love of god, can we talk about something normal for once?”
“What about you, Meian?” Says Adriah, ignoring his request entirely. “How did you figure it out?”
Meian sighs. “They’re not exactly subtle. Seriously, have none of you noticed the way they look at each other during practice? It’s disgusting.”
“Rude, Cap!” Atsumu exclaims. “We’re perfectly well behaved durin’ practice!”
Kae mutters something under his breath.
“Anyway,” Meian says, “did any of you catch the Falcons versus Hornets game last week?”
“I thought ya said no volleyball talk, Cap,” says Atsumu.
“I changed my mind,” says Meian.
“I saw the game,” Barnes offered. “It was pretty close, but the Falcons ended up taking it in the fifth set.”
“How’s Aran?” Says Atsumu out of curiosity. He misses his old friend, and hasn’t gotten the chance to see him since the last Inarizaki reunion.
“He looked great,” says Barnes. “His line shots are just as nasty as ever.”
“Those shots are a bitch to receive,” Inunaki says, something like awe in his tone. “I hope we get the chance to do a practice game with them before the start of the season.”
“I can try to set one up,” says Meian. “I’ll talk to Foster about it next week.”
From there, the conversation turns, predictably, to volleyball. Atsumu finishes his food and sets his plate aside, leaning slightly into Kiyoomi.
At one point, they end up talking about their practice game with the Adlers.
“You were really on your game for that one, ‘Tsumu,” Adriah comments.
“Thanks, Adriah,” Atsumu acknowledges. “It was an on day fer me, I guess.”
“You haven’t had a lot of off days recently, have you?” Bokuto observes.
“I guess I haven’t,” Atsumu says slowly. “I dunno why. Maybe the meds are finally startin’ ta do their job, or somethin’.”
“Maybe,” says Shouyou thoughtfully.
“Speaking of the game,” Inunaki says, eyes glinting, “what the hell is going on between you and Kageyama, Shou-kun?”
“None of your beeswax,” says Shouyou primly.
“Really? Because it looked like--”
“Inunaki,” Meian warns.
“--something, didn’t it?” Inunaki continues.
“No comment,” says Shouyou, pretending to lock his lips and throw away the key. “Anyway--”
It’s funny, Atsumu thinks suddenly, knowing that each and every person present knows he’s bipolar. And it’s not so much that they don’t care that he is; but they accept it, the same way they accept his personality, the same way that they accept every part of him.
He wonders, too, if part of the reason his moods have (somewhat) stabilized has anything to do with the fact that he has such a strong and extensive support system. Six months ago, the only ones who knew about his disorder were Bokuto, Suna, and of course Osamu, and there was only so much they could do to help Atsumu. Now he has his team behind him, and he has Kiyoomi, the very last person he expected to have on his side.
After the group parts ways, the five of them head back to the sharehouse together. Atsumu’s quiet, so lost in thought that it takes him a while to notice that Bokuto’s saying his name.
“Tsum-Tsum,” he says, sounding concerned, “are you okay?”
Atsumu considers this for a moment. He’s not always okay. Sometime’s he’s so bitter about the tribulations of being bipolar, the constant medications and the unpredictability of his moods, that he’s not sure whether he’ll ever feel stable. But right now…
“I’m okay,” he says, smiling slightly. “Thank you.”
Bokuto’s eyes soften. “Of course,” he says, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“We’re always here for you, Tsum-Tsum!” Shouyou chirps, skipping along the sidewalk.
“Yeah,” says Inunaki, slapping him on the back so hard that he chokes. “And don’t you forget it.”
Atsumu glances at Kiyoomi. He’s smiling slightly, looking at Atsumu with a gentleness he never thought he’d see. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t need to.
Either way, Atsumu knows he’s there.
Notes:
That’s it folks! Huge thanks again to everyone who made it this far, I’m so glad I got the chance to share this story. It was definitely pretty personal to share, so the support means a TON.
I was hoping to make 69,000 words bc I’m a literal teenage boy (I’m actually not but it’s not as if any of you know that) but honestly I’m pretty happy with how this resolved. Feel free to give me feedback, especially my fellow bipolar people--always here to listen to shared experiences!
Love y’all <3<3<3<3<3<3
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