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Bad luck to talk on these rides
Atsumu watched distractedly as a raindrop dribbled down against the condensation of the window. Mindlessly, he wonders if the vision would make a good shot in a movie. He thought it would, leg propped up on his seat, leaning against the car door. He tilts his head of bleached blond hair in his hand, peering over towards Sakusa, who clenches his hands around the wheel in return, white-knuckled and tense.
Mind on the road, your dilated eyes
Atsumu huffs a small laugh, one that lacks any sort of humour. He turns to look back out through the comforting glass, admiring the trees whizzing by in a dramatic fit of anger.
Watch the clouds float, white Ferrari
They had bought the car together. A little Toyota, worn down by weather and age. It was convenient and cheap; a distinct smell came from the vents whenever the heat was cranked as it was now. Atsumu couldn’t stand feeling chilly when the earth was already dark and moody enough. It was as if he was trying to counterbalance it, equalize the outside by being warm and bright on the inside.
Had a good time
Of course, as opposed, Kiyoomi loved being cold, and savoured it, in fact. His hands were always freezing when Atsumu reached to grab them, retracting his own quickly at the drastic temperature before giving into the cold palms. Kiyoomi had long since given up control of the functions of the car, handing them off to please Atsumu’s silly habits. He liked it when his Omi pretended he didn’t have a soft spot for him in his guarded heart. Even now, in the midst of conflict, he still wavers, giving up the stability that comes alongside authority. He trusts Atsumu, not with everything, but at least with the climate in the car.
I let you out at central
The car was in Atsumu’s name but it was Sakusa who used it far more often. He had a tendency to wander away into his own world, an enclosure built for nobody but himself. He liked the thought of getting lost. Or maybe he was looking for something; something he’d probably never find on the endless expanse of roads. It was nearly impossible to get lost in the world without a destination in mind. Omi, however, seemed to be searching for an answer of some sort through the paved surfaces. Atsumu wished he could help him find it, the thing his other half craved so desperately. Omi always struggled with getting a grasp on his wants. And this was an idea he wanted with his entire being. He had an end goal. What it was, Atsumu feared he would never find out. All he knew was that it was difficult on the secluded man, and the other would probably never be free of it, haunted by the thought of it. Omi never could reach it. Of course that only made Atsumu yearn to hold his fragile heart and guide him through it. He wished he knew what it was, the thing that dangled in front of his person so cruelly, taunting him with the very thing he was forbidden from touching.
I didn’t care to state the plain
He wishes he knew Kiyoomi properly. It hurt, knowing there was a sacred place in that pretty head, a part of Omi he’d never be able to reach, let alone see a glimpse of. A couple of years ago, he’d thought it was the most exciting experience, being let in bit by bit. Oh, how he was wrong. No, no he’d never be allowed to understand the way he wanted to, deserved to.
Kept my mouth closed
And with everything within him, Atsumu knew he deserved it. Yet, his existence surrounds him with excuses. He can’t know, how could he? He didn’t grow up the same, their social lives were significantly opposing. Everything about them was nowhere near the same.
We’re both so familiar
Kiyoomi frequently went on car rides to escape his mind and go looking for all the answers he couldn’t seem to grasp. He didn’t like to bring Atsumu along. Atsumu didn’t like to go either. But he does, regardless, hoping that maybe he’ll learn something new, anything new, good or bad.
White Ferrari, good times
That was never the case, unfortunately. They fought and fought with no discoveries or changes in sight. Kiyoomi is a lucky man in the eyes of everybody else, so they’ve said. Lucky that Atsumu is a force to be reckoned with and willing to do anything for the person he loves, or he would’ve left ages ago. Omi was an unmoving stone, hiding and tucking away his personality from the universe. Rarely would he let another person into his hideaway, only subjecting Atsumu to the most real version of himself. Even then, it was altered for approval, adjusted so that the fake blond wouldn’t judge.
Stick by me, close by me
More often than not, the thought is it worth it? rung through Atsumu’s head rudely, echoing in chambers of doubt.
You were fine
Atsumu glances over to the man who makes ancient statues look like a joke. He watches Kiyoomi’s profile with a fondness that always managed to linger in his soul, even through the frustration and rocky bits. The black curls that lay atop the other’s head, unstyled and just as beautiful as usual, were frizzy with the potent moisture in the air. Omi peeks at him in the corner of his eye curiously, obviously sensing his gaze. He stares back, moles sitting above his eyebrows, furious yet sweet.
You were fine here
Atsumu sighs, a heavy weight in his chest suffocating his lungs. “Can I ask you somethin’ Omi?” he tries to smile convincingly. “It’ll help ya sort through yer head a little,” he reaches over and taps Kiyoomi’s temple with a soft knuckle. “I can hear ya overthinking.”
That’s just a slow body
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Kiyoomi states quietly and hushed, no venom laced in his tone. He leans into Atsumu’s palm, giving in to the gentle comfort.
You left when I forgot to speak
“Alright.”
So I text to speech, lesser speeds, Texas speed, yes
He heaves another sigh, attempting to mask his disappointment. They need to talk. In fact it’s long overdue and they usually face it with ignorance instead of tackling the problem when it could prevent more from forming in the future. Atsumu himself is guilty of it as well, struggling to accept that there is an issue in the first place when they never had any before.
Basic takes its toll on me
Before. The word rings around his head, bouncing on the most tender pieces of him.
Eventually, eventually
It had been easy to fall into rhythm with Kiyoomi, at least when they’d first met. Bickering from across the net, throwing insults that only amused Atsumu. He liked to witness the annoyed twitch of a brow, finally showing some sign that he was affected by the obnoxious blonde, regardless if it was a negative reaction.
On me, eventually, eventually
Slowly, Kiyoomi started to warm up to him. It only really began during the summer training camp, when Atsumu was wandering around restlessly at midnight with an armful of snacks. By coincidence, he ran into the mysterious boy with the dark curls, perched on a windowsill, clearly lost in his thoughts. Atsumu had whispered a stupid little boo which caused the other to jump where he was sitting. Kiyoomi opened his mouth, fully ready to scold Atsumu before he was interrupted by the latter.
I care for you still and will forever
“Yer not wearing your mask.” he pointed out, surprised. Kiyoomi scowled at his oblivious rudeness and replied, “I only wear it around people,” and tacked on with a very meaningful glare, “Especially if they’re dirty and loud.”
That was my part of the deal, honest
Atsumu rolled his eyes and sarcastically gasped, “I am not dirty.” This was the truth of course, because when he found out about the weird germ thing, he became rapidly interested in it and made it a goal to respect Kiyoomi’s habits. He washed his hands so much they started to crack even with the help of lotion. “Scoot over,” he said without thinking or elaborating.
We got so familiar
“What?” Kiyoomi asked, completely stunned while his nose was scrunched up in confusion.
Spending each day of the year
“Move,” Atsumu demanded. “I hafta share my snacks with you or else I’m gonna stay up all night thinking about how lonely ya look right now.” Eventually, he got Kiyoomi to obey, making a spot for him as he handed his food over. Kiyoomi accepted after sanitizing his hands and making Atsumu do the same.
White Ferrari
They kept meeting up each night like an unspoken plan, both pretending to be clueless when it happened over and over again. They became friends in the dark, though Kiyoomi wouldn’t admit it even when they talked for hours only to feel fatigued and muddy in the morning. There weren’t any regrets. They worked well in unison, as volleyball teammates. Everyone was slightly baffled when they started hanging out all of a sudden, always near one another.
Good times
That was until it all shifted. During one of their little night shifts, in the hallway for anyone to witness, they were arguing, genuinely angry. The back and forths stung, hurting to the core. And then it altered into something else. Something dark in another way. Atsumu didn’t have a clue what was changing at the time, but he waited in anticipation anyhow. Eyes narrowed, pupils dilated, shoulders tensed. After waiting for what felt like minutes, Kiyoomi surged forward and Atsumu thought he might’ve been getting a punch to the nose. His eyes closed in preparation for the pain that didn’t come. Instead, a soft pressure landed on his lips and his eyelids snapped open in an instant. With no comprehension of the situation, he pushed the boy backwards, who barely managed to stabilize himself against a wall. It was rushed and stupid and terribly good. So Atsumu went back in so he didn’t have to hear the apology formed in Kiyoomi’s mouth. He grabbed him by the neck and with the help of their teenage hormones, it escalated swiftly. The kisses became heated, along with the rest of their bodies, which moved together desperately. And together, they reached their peak.
In this life
Atsumu panicked and embarrassingly ran away, fleeing the scene and leaving Kiyoomi in the dust with thousands of second guesses and just as much anguish. Atsumu still feels bad about the way he handled it, still feels agony for the way Kiyoomi must have stood there feeling lonelier than ever. He wonders how long the boy was left in the hallway, with messy pants and whether or not he cried as Atsumu did, disgusted with himself. He didn’t like to tell that part of the story too much, and if he did, he left out a lot of details. It was gross to Samu especially. Atsumu had phoned him the moment after he left the incident, chin wobbling. “I made a mistake, I think.” he had whispered over the line, breath shaking on an exhale. He could practically hear Samu perk up with concern, the grogginess of being woken up subsiding. Immediately, he asked what was wrong. With trembling fingers, Atsumu had put his brother on speaker, lying down in the filthy stairwell. He went on to hesitantly tell Samu all about his run-in and stemming relationship with Sakusa, the spiker from Itachiyama. Osamu soothed him to sleep and in the morning, his coach nudged him awake with his foot and told Atsumu to get himself together. He supposed it had to be a sight to see, dried tear tracks, mussed hair, lying at the bottom of a set of stairs.
In this life
He didn’t even think he liked boys before Kiyoomi. Sure, he would admire them but that’s all he thought it was. Admiration, even with his cocky attitude. It was hard for him to mentally process it, but Osamu guided him through it as apparently, he was sort of in the same situation with his best friend. Once he figured himself out, he kind of stopped caring about what other people might think of him. He came out to the team as bi a little bit later on down the road, and naturally, they were supportive. He didn’t see Kiyoomi again until their next official match against each other, several months later. They did everything to avoid each other.
One to many years
Atsumu forced himself to move on, even when it didn’t work. Kiyoomi always loitered around in the back of his mind when he tried to get with other people. He felt a sense of regret wash over him knowing that, although it was full of inexperience and bursts of enthusiasm, nothing would ever live up to that fling in a random hallway. The world seemed to take mercy on him for all his pining and pleading, when a handful of years later, Kiyoomi joined the MSBY Black Jackals. They grew closer, just as Atsumu predicted they would. Of course they would. Did Kiyoomi expect to be forced into one another’s proximity and not instantly latch on to each other? Because that’s exactly what happened, regardless of if he yearned to resist it. Like clockwork, they blossomed once again. They talked it through, they kept it hidden, they snuck into each other’s apartments, and they showered off the germs before ripping each other’s clothes off. It worked. It was great and it worked. They became obsessed.
Some tattooed eyelids on a facelift
But that didn’t drop the guarded expression Kiyoomi always wore around. It was as if he were running from the happiness, keeping it blocked out because it was too vulnerable and delicate to be dealt with by him. At the beginning of their relationship, the man had explained his fear, “I don’t know what I’m doing.” he said, innocent and helpless. He still says the same thing from time to time. He didn’t like that Atsumu was able to see through him, see through his mind with an ease that nobody else was able to achieve. That’s why he tried to leave Atsumu before he got in too deep. It was easier to hide away when he was ashamed of himself.
Atsumu spent a lot of that year sneaking out, far too much effort to just give up on him. Besides, he loved his anxious Omi, probably right from the start.
Mind over matter is magic
“What are you smiling about.” Kiyoomi’s gruff voice returns him to the present.
I do magic
“You,” he replies easily. “Us. When we were younger.”
Kiyoomi tenses, shoulders strung up like his brain is playing tricks on him. “You were happy,” he mumbles, clearly reminiscing. “Are you happy? Now, I mean?”
Atsumu heaves a sigh, weighted with all the years spent in doubt rather than peace. All the good memories scatter away at the question, leaving him in disappointment. “I don’t know, Omi,” he says simply, albeit a bit weakly.
“So you’re not,” Kiyoomi states, eyes forced on the road ahead. There isn’t any uncertainty in his tone, but of course, the creeping heartbreak in his throat makes his voice shake.
If you think about it it’ll be over in no time
“What do ya mean, love?” Atsumu scrubs a frustrated hand down his face, attempting to sober up from the stress.
Kiyoomi exhales, nothing short of nervous. “In general. With me?”
He shrugs because that’s all he’s able to achieve. It’s the only thing that somewhat expresses the emotions that sprint through his heart constantly. “Is anyone these days?” he asks honestly.
Long pale fingers drum against the steering wheel. “I think so.” the other answers, just as unsure. “Motoya is.”
Atsumu scoffs incredulously. “Yeah well, of course he is. He’s too dumb to be a little sad every now and then.” He watches fondly as Omi’s mouth quirks up slightly. Atsumu mimics the action without even realizing it. Without meaning to, as if he were made to.
And that’s life
Kiyoomi, as if becoming abruptly aware of the lightheartedness in the air, opts for small talk instead to savour the moment. “Y’know, he’s been wanting to coach.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Younger kids though.” he tacks on, eager to keep the conversation going like it were the most interesting news. “I think he resonates with them better.”
Atsumu stares at him for a couple of beats, not really listening despite wanting to.
Kiyoomi glances over to him and his shoulders drop as he’s faced with reality once again, unable to avoid the stupid thing. His face scrunched up unpleasantly as he asked the question tentatively, “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong with what?” the blond’s nostrils flare slightly, sensing the danger of the comment, dreading the inevitable.
“You’re making that face you make when something’s wrong.” Kiyoomi claims, accepting the argument that’s bound to approach.
I’m sure we’re taller in another dimension
Atsumu bites his cheek, stalling by fidgeting with his fingernails. He can see Kiyoomi waiting not so patiently for his words. When he can’t bear the tension any longer, he blurts, “Do you think we should’a been done by now?”
Kiyoomi lets out a distressed, pained noise. A crack in his facade. The turn signal goes off and Omi pulls over, eerily perfect and practiced. Always by the book, always listening to instruction. Always listening to what his father taught him.
He shuts the car off.
Atsumu doesn’t glance at him, but he sees the shake of a head, the black hair swinging side to side in his peripherals. Hands wrap more tightly around the steering wheel, waiting in anticipation with a bated breath.
He shrugs helplessly. “Then what, Omi? Ya gotta work with me here.”
“I don’t know,” Kiyoomi replies quietly and rushed. “Don’t- you’re not breaking up with me, Atsumu. You’re not.” his voice cracks around the edges, trying to convince himself that the situation isn’t real.
“But- but what if we’ve run our course?” he questions, just as destroyed as if he wasn’t the one that started it in the first place. “We’ve explored each other as much as we needed to and now we have to go our separate ways, right? That’s what’s supposed to happen.”
“That’s not how the world works, Atsu. We get to make our choices, not anyone but us.” Kiyoomi speaks firmly and a little desperately.
He shrugs again, wondering if his love could truly understand what he’s saying. “We’re just the world experiencing itself. We have no say.”
You say we’re small and not worth the mention
“Well, I do,” Kiyoomi states stubbornly, even crossing his arms like a petulant child. “The universe can fuck itself if it thinks otherwise.”
It goes quiet and the car starts back up again, rumbling to life. Atsumu smiles, proud that Omi managed to stick up for himself when things mattered. The man in question was about to pull back into the nonexistent traffic. It seemed as if it was cleared out for them, kindly giving them some semblance of calmness.
Atsumu regretfully speaks up. “It happened with Samu and Suna too,” he says carefully.
Kiyoomi immediately hits the brake, just as he hit the gas. He takes out the key, with no delay from his thoughts to his actions. “Too?” his tone practically screams for Atsumu to be cautious.
You’re tired of movin’, your body’s achin’
“You know what I mean.” he nearly complains defensively.
“Do I?”
“You do,” Atsumu claims, certain and steady.
“We’re not them, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says with a whisper of solemn running through his veins.
“Do ya believe that though? What’s to say we don’t turn out like them?” He’s been asking himself the same question, the rude gravity of the inquiry ringing and bouncing around the walls of his head. It makes sense, after all. He doesn’t know why, but it does.
Kiyoomi opened his car door, stepping out and stretching with a confidence that had evidently appeared out of nowhere. “We’re stronger than them.” he ducks down, leaning against the roof of the car to watch Atsumu. “You should know this.” he isn’t smiling, yet he seems lighter on his feet, like he’d come to a life-altering realization. Atsumu wanted to feel it too, but nonetheless, dejection held a firm grasp on him.
We could vacay, there’s places to go
“I mean, not to compliment the idiot, but Samu isn’t exactly the weakest out there.” he points out uselessly. “And neither is Suna.”
Kiyoomi reaches in and unbuckles Atsumu’s seatbelt. He playful smacks the hand away and murmurs something about doing it himself. He steps out as well and Omi comes around the other side to meet him halfway. Kiyoomi corners him in, and surpassingly, kisses him hard and angry, hands on either side of his head.
Clearly this isn’t all that there is
Atsumu responds instantly, biting and nipping away at him. Kiyoomi pulls away just as fast as he came in, Atsumu chasing after his lips greedily.
“They started off as friends,” Kiyoomi says and it takes a second for Atsumu to register it. “We hated each other. We started off broken. We’ve already dealt with more than they have.” His eyes are intense, every word held with purpose and determination.
Can’t take what’s been given
“So?” he asks, breathless. “We’re still a little rocky, Omi. Doesn’t mean it can’t end up the same way.”
Kiyoomi pecks him softly, on the lips and the tip of his nose. He rests their foreheads together, holding them close to one another. Atsumu glows with the affection, basking in it.
But we’re so okay here, we’re doing fine
“You’re not giving up on us, Atsu. You’re not. I promise I’ll try harder.” He nods to himself, completely resolute, not only promising Atsumu, but himself too. He’s holding himself accountable. “I’ll let you in, properly this time. I swear on everything.”
Kiyoomi’s gaze genuinely pierces his soul. It feels like the first time they’d ever made the searing eye contact, thrown into a past full of passion. “You’ve done everything and I’ve just let you.”
Primal and naked
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
Atsumu sighs, a pleased and relieved one. And then he lunges forward enthusiastically, latching onto his other half once again. He peppers him in kisses, wet and gross. “Yes. Obviously yes, Omi”
Kiyoomi’s face grows serious and guilty. “I do love you, you know that right? I’m in love with you, always have been.”
Atsumu nods knowingly. He nods knowing that the man has and will continue to struggle with his emotions, whether he wants to or not. “I love ya too, Omi-Omi.”
You dreamt of walls that hold is imprisoned