Chapter Text
“Omi-Omi, I want to go to the fair,” said Atsumu on an ordinary Thursday afternoon, earning an annoyed eye roll from Kiyoomi, which also wasn’t out of the ordinary. Kiyoomi did that a lot, especially with Atsumu. It was an honour, really, to receive that eye roll on a daily basis.
“Why? We aren’t children.”
“Very nicely observed, Omi,” replied Atsumu. “However, I read this article the other day about healin’ yer inner child and goin’ to a fair could really help do that.”
“What inner child?” Kiyoomi scoffed. “That’s bullshit.”
“See, that’s exactly my point!” Atsumu was going to win this argument for sure. “My inner child needs healin’ because I grew up with Samu, which has emotionally wrecked me.” Kiyoomi rolled his eyes again. “And ya think the inner child is bullshit! If that doesn’t warrant a need for healin’, then I don’t know.”
“So you don’t know.”
“That was a figure of speech.”
“A bad one.”
“The fact that yer only attackin’ me because of that means ya don’t have a good retort. So we’re goin’.” Atsumu paused and took his hands. Kiyoomi deliberately looked away from him as he did so. “Besides, I already texted Osamu and Rin to come along. Gods know their inner kids need healin’, too. They’ll be here in five minutes, so hop along and get dressed.”
Atsumu loved making decisions—it was a natural drive he had, especially considering his plays as setter. He made the decisions in the game that would ultimately lead to their victory (or defeat, but he refused to accept that his sets could be the reason for that. He lacked a bit of self-reflection in that regard).
Kiyoomi didn’t give any indication of approval, and yet Atsumu knew he had won the battle. Begrudgingly, Kiyoomi trotted to his bedroom, shoulders slouched in disappointment—probably in himself for having no spine when it came to winning arguments against Atsumu. (He had to admit, though, that he did lose them quite frequently. Kiyoomi was much better at laying out reasonable counter-arguments. That wasn’t something Atsumu liked to admit, so it was only a cursed after-thought that annoyed him quite a bit.)
A few minutes later, the two of them were ready, and Osamu and Rin were actually outside already, waiting for them. Atsumu greeted his twin with a fist to the shoulder, which Osamu reciprocated without hesitation. After all, this greeting was a tradition that both of them knew. Kiyoomi just gave them a nod, hands in his pockets, embracing his ‘cool’ phase that he never got to have in highschool. Sup, he seemed to say with his nod, a slight raise of his eyebrows sending Atsumu’s knees into intense trembling—it was a miracle he kept himself upright without landing on all fours right then and there. Gods, his boyfriend was hot, even when he wasn’t trying to be.
He had half a heart to ditch the fair and go back to the bedroom with Kiyoomi, but he’d made the plans with Osamu and Rin. If they hadn’t been there, he definitely would have dragged Kiyoomi back up. But alas. His own plans were his demise and downfall.
Fortunately, the weather was excellent, lifting Atsumu’s spirits instantly. The sun was so bright, he cursed himself for forgetting his sunglasses. Kiyoomi had remembered to bring his own, so Atsumu snatched them off his nose to cover his own eyes. The only reply was Kiyoomi snipping his fingers against the side of Atsumu’s head.
“Ouch?” said Atsumu, rubbing the spot that now was sore.
Kiyoomi just shrugged, though a complacent smile graced his face, and Atsumu couldn’t resist and give him a peck on the cheek as they walked. Kiyoomi’s smile only widened.
“Yer gross,” said Osamu at the same time as Rin said, “Ew, I got that on camera.”
“You’re welcome,” said Kiyoomi, though his smile quickly changed into a grimace as he jumped to the right, shouting obscenities at the ground. Atsumu blinked in confusion before he saw the reason for Kiyoomi’s discomfort. There was a frog on the ground, though it was already hopping into the bushes next to the sidewalk.
“Get that thing away from me,” said Kiyoomi, his voice cracking.
“Relax, princess,” said Atsumu, barely able to suppress his laugh. “It’s nowhere near ya, so just chill out.”
“Didn’t take ya for such a wuss,” said Osamu at the same time as Rin said, “Ha. Got that on camera, too.”
Kiyoomi turned around to glare at him. “Can you, for once in your life, not record every little thing?”
Rin gave him an incredulous look. “Clearly, you’ve never played in the same team as both Atsumu and Osamu. These dumbasses,” he gave both pointed glances, “made me realise just how important it is for your memories to be recorded.”
“Your Inarizaki-slogan really didn’t apply to you.”
Rin just shook his head and shrugged. Kiyoomi decided not to argue further. Atsumu gave him a nod of approval—he hadn’t thought Kiyoomi would be the bigger man for once and lose an argument without even trying to fight back. Besides, arguing with Rin was equivalent to arguing with a brick wall. How Osamu could stand that every day and every night, Atsumu wasn’t sure. Rin was a very good friend, but Atsumu would go out of his freaking mind.
He supposed Osamu felt the same about Kiyoomi, though Atsumu would never understand that. He couldn’t get enough of his boyfriend.
Speaking of—Kiyoomi had finally stopped freaking out over the frog, which was a relief. Though Atsumu couldn’t hide his smile as a response to the very obvious overreaction, he also didn’t like it whenever Kiyoomi was stressed out, no matter how small and insignificant the reason appeared to him.
So instead of making fun of him—which would have been Atsumu’s instinct from birth onwards if this was Osamu—Atsumu reached out a hand, and Kiyoomi took it. It was easy to be with Kiyoomi; it didn’t take much for Atsumu to understand what he needed, and the same was true vice versa.
When they arrived at the fair—after tons of more bickering and teasing and filming (thanks to Suna)—an active, lively crowd welcomed them and swallowed them whole. As if they were opposite magnets drawn to each other, Kiyoomi stuck closer to Atsumu’s side, holding his hand tightly in his own, and Atsumu ran a reassuring thumb over the back of his hand.
“I want to win a prize,” said Rin at the same time as Osamu said, “I wanna go grab some food.”
“You two go off, then,” said Atsumu. “I, for one, am gonna find myself a game to impress Omi-Omi.”
“We’re already dating, you don’t need to impress me anymore,” said Kiyoomi with a roll of his eyes.
“And clearly, his standards are spectacularly low, so no need to impress him,” said Osamu before dragging Rin with him into the crowd, so he wouldn’t have to hear Atsumu’s angry retort that put Donald Duck to shame with the noises that came out of Atsumu’s mouth. Kiyoomi just stared at him as he threw his temper tantrum, visibly annoyed. Atsumu shut his mouth.
“Ready?” he said then.
“No,” said Kiyoomi. “But if you are, then I’ll tag along.” Atsumu gave him a kiss in response, before grabbing him by the hand and entering the bustling crowd. It wasn’t his favourite place to be, but with Atsumu, it was alright, bearable, fun, even. There was something so lovely about seeing the sparkle in Atsumu’s eyes as he attempted to aim the darts to hit the balloons, only for him to miss spectacularly. And there was something so fun about being better at it than Atsumu, effectively embarrassing Atsumu but winning a prize regardless.
Kiyoomi picked out a little frog-shaped stuffed animal that was holding a tiny cup of coffee. Atsumu had said that it looked cute—so Atsumu could have it, even though he doubted it didn’t have something to do with the actual frog they had seen earlier that day. And to see his eyes light up in childlike glee…it was all worth it. Perhaps going to the fair hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.
As it turned out later, it was a horrible idea. For both of them.
When Atsumu saw a fortune teller’s tent, he simply couldn’t resist. “Omi, I am goin’ to do that,” he said, nudging Kiyoomi towards the tent.
“I don’t mind you doing it if you really want to,” said Kiyoomi. “Just know that I will be judging you silently if you do.”
“Ya always judge me anyways, so don’t mind if I do,” said Atsumu, approaching the tent with an eagerness that Kiyoomi would never fully grasp. “Just wait for me here.”
Kiyoomi nodded and gave him a wave before Atsumu entered the tent, leaving the chattering of all the people behind. The second the tent closed behind him, the noise was drowned out, as if a magic wall was hiding the outside world from him. There was a certain creepy air about the atmosphere inside the tent, what with obscure occultish symbols dangling off the sides everywhere, a deep green hue scattering dark shadows across the floor.
A messy shelf stood to his right, vials standing on every wooden plank, leaving no room for more. Some held bubbling liquid, others that looked just like soup, others more like tea, others…a white-greyish substance that looked a bit sticky. Atsumu didn’t want to think about it too much. Because if he thought about it too much, he’d start getting second thoughts. If Kiyoomi wasn’t judging him already, then he’d leave—however, Kiyoomi was judging him, so there wasn’t really anything he could do but go further into the tent, since he wasn’t about to deal with Kiyoomi’s obnoxious I-told-you-so ’s.
Thinking back on it, he should have just dealt with Kiyoomi’s attitude, rather than what the fortune teller had in store for him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been graced with the ability to time travel, so there was that.
So Atsumu went on, until he heard a raspy “hello” sound from a far corner of the tent. He hadn’t seen the odd man standing there, for the shadows were veiling him from his view. Only when he heard his voice did he see him emerge from the darkness, the first thing he noticed being the bony structure of his face that instantly gave Atsumu the creeps. He so wanted to be a brave man, but he was, in fact, a massive coward and he wouldn’t hear the end of it should he turn tail and run.
“Good afternoon, young Miya,” said the fortune teller, and Atsumu’s instinct to run was overruled by his immense curiosity.
“Uhm. Hello,” he said dumbly, making a brilliant first impression as he stepped forward and got his foot caught in the carpet that sent him careening forwards, almost fully face planting on the floor had he not caught himself on one of the shelves. Miraculously, the vials standing on that shelf did not fall—he didn’t want to imagine the mayhem that would have caused.
“You’ve come to me for advice, and to learn what the future holds” said the fortune teller then, motioning him to sit down in front of a low table where the man revealed a crystal orb that had been hidden away under a soft blanket.
“Uhm. Yes.” What else could he be here for, to buy an engagement ring? His heart skipped a beat when he realised where his mind had just wandered off to.
“I see an accident in your near future,” said the fortune teller, and Atsumu barked a laugh.
“Drawing inspiration from me tumblin’ about your little tent?”
The fortune teller remained unfazed, though Atsumu could have sworn he saw green eyes flashing at him in a disapproving glare. It was spooky, so Atsumu, naturally, kept on talking, his cocky voice the only weapon he had ever known.
“Do you even see anything in that ball of yours?”
The fortune teller nodded and reached forward with his veiny hands to grasp the ball between his finger tips, his eyes closing as he looked up at the ceiling, his mouth agape. Atsumu caught a glance at his eyeballs which appeared to have turned backwards, revealing the white, which, frankly, gave Atsumu the creeps. He swallowed thickly as a cloud of dust collected inside the ball, and it vanished as soon as it had appeared. Atsumu could have sworn that a small green figure remained, though he could hardly make it out. If he squinted enough, the ugly, hunched, deformed outline reminded him of Oikawa Tooru. Kiyoomi would have scolded him for that comparison—after all, he should show at least a little bit of respect towards their athletic trainer. But Atsumu’s opinion was set.
He was getting carried away, and he blinked himself back out of his thoughts, propelling himself back to reality. The fortune teller had disappeared, and all that was left in Atsumu’s hand was a little amulet. He hadn’t realised that the fortune teller would leave him a prize, but he wasn’t about to complain.
He should have complained, and he really shouldn’t have taken the amulet home. But Atsumu was a man of pride, and he was going to take the shiny jewellery home, because he couldn’t possibly just leave it there. So he put it on around his neck, the stone disappearing under his shirt. And just as it disappeared and he left the tent, the amulet had already escaped his mind, as the sight of his boyfriend, scowling and frowning as ever, made the butterflies in his stomach go wild.
“I’m back,” said Atsumu then, grinning from ear to ear. “And I survived.”
“I can tell,” said Kiyoomi, though the sound of disappointment didn’t escape Atsumu. He decided not to focus on that, and instead, grabbed Kiyoomi by the hand to move along, diving further into the masses that indulged in the joyfulness of the fair. Kiyoomi stood out like a sore thumb against the jolly crowd, his dark and brooding aura like Mordor in comparison to the Shire. But Atsumu was always drawn to him, and even managed to infect Kiyoomi with his childish wonder and marvel at the different stands, that, more often than not, Kiyoomi found himself smiling and laughing.
Of all the prizes at the fair, the sound of Kiyoomi’s laugh was the most treasured one, and the ones witnessing it were truly privileged.
The blissful moments he spent with Kiyoomi were few and far between however, as his idiot-twin showed up again with his phone-addicted partner. Promptly, Rin said, which was completely unprompted in Atsumu’s opinion: “My boyfriend nailed the basketball game.”
“Ya could have said that he dunked it, but yer pun-game seems off today,” said Atsumu. “Kiyoomi did nail the darts game.”
“You think you’re a setter? The way you’re blocking my attacks, here, I would’ve said you’re—” said Rin, only for Atsumu to interrupt him.
“With yer weak spikes, that’s only—”
“Shut up, both of you,” said Kiyoomi. “Rin, I thought you were more mature than this.” He then shot a glare at Atsumu. “You, on the other hand, I’m disappointed, but not surprised.”
“Those jokes really were weak, for the both of you,” Osamu chimed in.
“Hey!” they said in unison.
“And,” said Kiyoomi, “Atsumu’s boyfriend can do twice what your boyfriend can do.”
“Hey!” said Rin this time, while Atsumu stared at his boyfriend with pride.
“We both know the twins are incompetent as hell,” Kiyoomi went on before he marched off in the direction of the basketball stand. Atsumu and Osamu were silent, while Suna barked a laugh and snapped a picture of the two.
It turned out that Kiyoomi was indeed quite good at aiming basketballs. Perhaps he had an inherent talent for navigating balls and being spot-on with his aim, but Atsumu was astounded at how well he did. Atsumu picked the prize again: a beautifully crafted ceramic sculpture in the shape of a frog. A comeback for Kiyoomi’s bullying earlier as it was another reminder to his encounter with a frog earlier today. Atsumu was satisfied with himself. And that’s where his satisfaction on that day would end. That he was sure of.
But watching Kiyoomi shoot those balls got Atsumu thinking, and he really was madly in love with his boyfriend. Not only mentally but also physically. There was not an ounce of him—personality and physique—that Atsumu didn’t desire at all times.
“Fuck you,” said Kiyoomi as Atsumu handed him the frog while the previous prize was already sticking out of Kiyoomi’s small backpack. In response, Atsumu gave him a kiss, and it was magical, the way it always was.