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It started and ended on a Friday. Several Fridays apart actually. Many, many Fridays.
Eighteen, in Miya Atsumu's life, was supposed to be a big one. This was The Year, as advertised by many. Age of adulthood. Old enough to get married. Old enough to vote. Not old enough to drink, but it's not like the law was something that could stop him. In buttfuck-nowhere Hyogo, Atsumu and Osamu sat in the creaky attic of their house, with Aran, Suna and anyone who gave fewer fucks than most to screw around drink cheap liquor smuggled out of the alcohol store with Suna's terrible, may he reiterate, terrible fake ID.
He didn't know the brand. Only that it burnt his throat and made him cough and sputter in a way that made everyone laugh.
"Fuckin' lightweight." Suna said.
"Tastes like piss."
"Yeah? Ya know what piss tastes like now?" Osamu nudged him with his elbow. He emptied the vodka into his plastic cup. "Don't nurse it. Just, down it. Don't even feel it."
Atsumu didn't know where Osamu learnt this, or how. Or why. But he stared down at his cup and swallowed it down without thinking. Tasted terrible nonetheless, but the feeling was quicker. He could feel the alcohol start to heat his insides and his nerves soften.
"Never thought I'd be drinking." He murmured to himself.
"You 'an me both, ya scrub." Osamu replied. He mulled on the thought. "Remember that first training camp in middle school? "Booze, weed, parties, sex. Nothing beats Volleyball." Quite the words from a kid who'd never tried any of it."
And Atsumu supposed it was true. He'd demonised anything that seemed like it would come in the way of volleyball. He was a perfectionist.
"God we need mixers. Sprite would be so good right now." Aran laid back, against a cardboard box which contained Atsumu's mom's favourite linen. The kind with embroidered flowers on the end that they'd only lay out during festivals. He eyed as Kita began stretching.
"Ah, gotta head home. My ma's gonna freak if realises I'm not in bed."
"The hell?" Atsumu whines. "Yer really gonna ditch? We turn eighteen in what," He looks down at his watch, "eight minutes?"
"I got uni tomorrow, ya know." But he sits back down.
As the rest of the group laughs, poking fun at each other, he feels himself sort of... slip away. He could include himself, it'd be easy. But sitting there among everyone and letting the conversation flow around him, well, it felt safe. It washes over him like the current of the river against his feet. All he wanted to do in that moment was stand in the river. The jokes, the taunts, everything seeped into one another in an organic and intrinsically quiet way.
A part of him wondered if he was meant for this. This sort of passive existence. Letting everyone and everything flow ahead of him while he stayed put.
"Tsumu!"
He startled. Osamu was shaking him by his shoulders and hugging him tight.
Oh.
He was eighteen.
Being a third year was amazing. Sure he missed Kita and a couple other seniors, but that was nothing in comparison to being a third year himself. When you're a first year, you're babied but people are still wary of you. They wait until you show your real colours and then you start making your real friends. Second year is when you start thinking about the future but don't do anything about it. It's reserved for crises and breakdowns and your brother telling you that you're going to have to chase your dreams alone. Third year is when even though you don't know everything, you're kind of okay about it. And you take shit day by day. You get stronger and people look up to you.
"Alright!" He shouted. "That was fuckall."
The volleyball gymnasium quietened down. Atsumu ran his hand through his bleached, but softened hair. The day was going from bad to worse with everyone kind of antsy. The first year setter (Kirijo, he thinks) he was training just couldn't match tempo with the rest of the team and that second year libero (That one's definitely Kurosawa) was littered with bruises because he couldn't figure out how to receive a ball without looking like he threw himself into a washing machine.
Osamu watched with crossed arms and a smirk on his face as Atsumu went 'Captain Mode.'
"Right." Atsumu sighed. "We're gonna sit here, and I ain't letting ya scrubs leave until ya tell me what's floatin' around in yer heads. Whatever thoughts ya have, ya can't carry em on the court." And with that, he sat cross-legged on the floor, patting the space between him.
For a moment, it was just him. But then Osamu sat diametrically opposed with a small, reassuring nod and barely there smile. One by one, the unsure first and second years followed and Suna settled beside the grey haired twin. Atsumu rarely spent practice time delving into anything beside volleyball in all honesty, but it didn't take a genius to know when everyone's head was elsewhere and if they kept going, he'd just end up destroying their morale which the team didn't need more of. It was just the beginning of the season and learning how to mesh was his first priority. Volleyball is a sport build on trust, on knowing that when you jump, the ball will come to you. That when you miss the receive, your libero will be there to save it with an insane dig.
But trust came with time and friendship. At best, this was a team of strangers.
"I'll go first." Atsumu traced swirls into the wooden gymnasium floor, "Right now, I'm worried about gettin signed. I'm goin' straight to professional volleyball after graduation so I need to be performin' better than ever. Scouts are fuckin terrifying, it's like an exam but they're gradin' it right in front of ya."
Silence.
"Same." Suna murmured.
Atsumu looked up.
"It's not like I'm going pro straightaway, but college scouts are like... they got the eyes of serial killers I swear."
The team laughs, and the air feels lighter. And it gets easier.
"My mom's on my ass about my grades."
"My sister's ignoring me for her boyfriend."
"I got caught drinking and now my dad's put me on house arrest."
And people respond. They joke. They reassure. They make it clear that volleyball or not, the team is there to support each other.
"I feel like I'm always falling behind." Kirijo says. It's a whisper of an admission in the wind. The Inarizaki team goes silent as their eyes track the curly haired boy. Kirijo Eiji is shorter than most, with freckles that paint his nose bridge. He joined the team after watching their matches as a middle schooler and fell in love with setting. Atumu thinks it'll take time, but setting will soon love him back.
"I just. I feel like there's so much that I'm meant to be doing by now. It's like all my friends are in a relationship or going out to like, house parties an' stuff but I just don't. And when I do go to parties I end up with a cup fulla coke or somethin' because they're gonna bitch at me if I'm not drinking."
Atsumu swallows.
And everyone reassures the kid, telling him "Don't push yourself" or "Alcohol is shit, don't worry about it." but something about the way Kirijo says it full of despair shoots an arrow right into Atsumu's chest like an accusation.
The rest of the circle goes great and when they leave the gymnasium, Osamu eyes him carefully. Because Atsumu is quiet. And that's just not what he is. The grey haired twin eyed the older (yes, older) twin with a look that seemed like analysis. The fact that their existence was joined like a wishbone meant that just as Atsumu could read Osamu's every tell, the opposite was equally true. Osamu nudged him with his bag as he clicked the iron lock of the gym shut.
"What's got ya so wound up?"
Atsumu furrowed his brow. On some level, he did want to tell him. But it felt like admitting something he wasn't even sure of yet. "It's nothing too important."
"I'll get it out of ya anyway."
With a sigh, he slung his bag on his shoulder and took a step down. "Ya ever feel like we spent so much time playing volleyball we never did teenager things?"
Osamu paused. "Nah."
"Samu, I drank for the first time a couple weeks ago. We never smoked, cigarettes or otherwise, never had a fuckin girlfriend or boyfriend or ever kissed anyone, never gone to a shitty house party or anything."
His twin swallows dryly. "Do ya wanna go to a shitty house party?"
"That's besides the point damnit! I don't even know if I like shitty house parties. I wanna go to some random person's fuckin house and dance to awful music and see people sneakin' off inta someone's ma's bedroom and figure out if I like it or not."
Osamu sighs. "Well, I repeat. Do ya wanna go to a shitty house party?"
"Yeah." He deflates, stopping. "Yeah I do."
"Good. Suna and I are off to Gifu for break next month, nothin' serious. One week, out in Shirakawa-go an' a buncha guys who play volleyball gonna be out there too, there's some village tournament and winners get free food at this yakiniku place for three days." He rakes his hand through his hair. "So you can, I dunno. Come with. Get wasted, make out, do teenager stuff."
The Miyas don't really do thank yous. But Atsumu squeezes Osamu's shoulder thrice, and is squeezed thrice in return. Somehow that means more.
It's three Fridays later when Atsumu comes home early, one of the worst decisions of his life.
He really needed to stay back and ask for feedback on his history essay, but Shinkai Sensei had to go home because her kid tried to run away from daycare. Luckily she agreed to give him an extra day to submit, and he managed to come home for an extra hour or so of sleep.
Atsumu liked walking home. He'd put on his headphones and just stroll across the endless expanse of trees and rice fields. Often, he'd stumble into a curious little home-restaurant or cafe and chat with the little old men and ladies who owned them. This was one of the few breaks in his routine, in its own way, it added depth to his life. It was nice to be alone with his thoughts.
Okay it wasn't.
Like, sure. He hadn't been to parties done anything romantic with anyone ever, but that was because he was an athlete. Athletes paid attention to their craft and needs. And his upbringing was such that cultivated focus and perfection. Osamu too, he hadn't done anything too crazy in his life. It was stupid to compare himself to anyone else when Osamu was right there. At least, when they both did their Rice Purity tests on that night in the attic, they both evened out at a ninety six, which made it all okay. That soothed him.
Which is why when he comes home, it crumbles.
When the front door swings open, it's his mother who opens the door. Miya Akane is a sweet little woman, just about five feet on a good day when her back wasn't hurting. The twins' height clearly came from their father, who was out of the picture. Cheating bastard. It made it difficult for Atsumu to deal with the idea of relationships as a kid, not because he was a bad father, no in fact he seemed so deeply dedicated to the family that it came as a complete shock to everyone. He'd tried his best to shield Osamu from seeing their mother the way she was during that first year. She was a mess, justifiably so. He never really knew what to say when he'd hold her as she sobbed, so it was mostly silence, interspersed with murmured reassurances. And she came out of it a rough and tough spunky woman who finally returned to work as a nurse at the local children's hospital.
"Hey ma." He gave her a quick hug. Their family was always physical. Hugs, kisses, fistfights between him and Osamu were commonplace.
"Oh honey, what happened? Osamu said you'd be at school."
He closed the door behind him, taking his shoes off at the genkan. "I was s'posed ta. But Shinkai Sensei left early."
"Good you're home early. Ya know how the house gets all quiet when you boys are out all the time. I might have ta get myself a pet or something."
"Maaaaa." He whined as he went up the stairs, "Don't tell me yer gonna replace me with a dog."
He could hear music as he came upstairs which wasn't exactly rare. But he was usually the source of the music. It was loud, grungy and cool, decidedly not Osamu's. He swung the door open, not paying any mind because Miyas never knock.
"Oh but when I play my music, ya-"
"Get out get out get OUT!"
He immediately shut the door.
Because. What the fuck.
No. Noooo. Nononono. Atsumu wants to bleach his eyes out. He feels nauseated. His hand stays on the handle and mouth remains open in fucking disbelief. How does one get the mental image of your own brother railing your best friend since middle school out of your brain? God, it was awful, just a second, a frame of that scene and Atsumu did not want to see more. Behind the door, the music abruptly stops, and he hears rustling. Osamu yanks the door open with a face of both embarrassment and outrage. His shirt is on. Boxers too. Suna's in one of Osamu's ratty oversized tees that he wears on colder days. Atsumu doesn't see any pants on him, and he doesn't want to know if he's wearing any or not. Osamu opens the door wider and mouths at Atsumu to enter. Atsumu doesn't budge.
"In."
"How long."
At the silence, he pushes. "How long has this been goin' on."
Osamu swallows.
"Samu."
"Three months."
That's all the confirmation he needs to leave. He doesn't announce his exit as he heavily clunks down the stairs, ignoring the shouts at him to stop, to wait. He doesn't take his keys or his phone, the front door closes behind him in its inertia. He just walks, brisk, without destination. He doesn't remember putting his shoes on, and that's apparent when the gravel of the floor finally starts affecting his pace.
He's at the river. In his uniform, he lowers himself until the water reaches his knees and stares transfixed at the sunset.
"Just. Fuckin talk to me. Please"
He stares at the wall firmly as he lays in bed.
"Sumu, come on. We're family"
It's quiet when Atsumu says "Ya lied to me. Ya don't do that shit ta family."
He knows that if he says anymore, he'd start crying. So he doesn't.
The Friday after, he stares out the window of a sleeper-train. The train to Shirakawa-go is long. Longer so, now that Osamu and him aren't really talking. He watches as Suna and him eye him warily. He hates it. He hates it more so, when they stare in concern.
As they reach the village Friday evening, the walk being painfully silent, his voice breaks the chirp of crickets. "I'm switching houses."
There again, those eyes of pity. Osamu opens his mouth, Atsumu interrupts. "I already told the lobby. There's someone with an empty bed at the North house."
He picks up his duffel and walks the long, dark path to the North end, noot waiting for any response.
The village is beautiful, really. Old wooden houses with big, triangular roofs in between paddy fields that have an odd sort of sheen from the glistening waters. The village is tucked into the valley in between hills, hidden from the world. It's serene and beautiful under the stars and crescent moon.
As a kid, Atsumu hated the moon. Because when it was a full moon night, he at Osamu couldn't see the sprawling galaxies. This worsened each year with the increasing interference from street lights and cityscape which drew attention away from the natural beauty of a deep, dark sky airbrushed in blues and purples, freckled with the stars. He used to listen to the radio to find out when the next meteor shower would be, and they'd climb onto the roof through the attic window, lay a blanket down and watch the meteors rush past. But Atsumu wasn't a kid anymore and the Leonids were nearing.
He slipped the house key into the lock and turned. Inside, was a simple house with three rooms. It was cozy. Warm. Despite the autumn winds and wooden frame, it insulated heat beautifully. In the living room were a couple red sofas and familiar faces.
"Damn Miya! So you're the mystery housemate!"
Atsumu grinned. "Tanaka, ya bastard."
He gave the boy a firm hug. Tanaka and Nishinoya were sharing a room, apparently. But apart from them were Shouyo, Kenma and none other than Sakusa Kiyoomi. As he parted from the hug he turned towards him.
"Damn, Sakusa. How'd they blackmail ya to come here?"
Sakusa was sitting cross legged on the sofa, which was odd, much like himself, looking tired out of his mind. "Motoya convinced me. Then he ditched."
"I thought he had food poisoning?" Hinata asked.
Sakusa turned to him, unimpressed. "He did. That doesn't absolve him from his crimes."
"Whatever," Nishinoya waved his hand. "It's good we don't have two liberos. Two setters are fine, but two liberos is just sad. We'll figure out strategy tomorrow though. Both Sakusa and Miya look like they're about to drop dead on the floor now."
Sakusa rose. As he came closer, Atsumu was painfully aware of the fact that he was slightly (ever so slightly. couldn't be more than two centimetres) shorter than him. Atsumu could trace his dark circles by the atom. And Sakusa had black painted nails that were fucking doing something to him. He was wordlessly guided up the stairs, first door to the right, to their shared room. Much like the house, small but homely. Each side had a bed, a chest of drawers and wardrobe, and a bedside table. He put down his duffel on the floor beside his backpack and pulled out his clothes, putting them into the drawers. His toiletries remained in a cloth pouch his ma had made him pack which he placed on the tabletop.
As he did so, Sakusa eyed him. It was a little unnerving, the way he stared. Like he was picking him apart, every movement.
"Why aren't you in your brother's house?" He asked bluntly.
Atsumu was startled. He turned.
"Just needed my space. We already live in each other's pockets, ya know?"
He was a good liar, really. Which is why he was further unsettled by the way Sakusa continued to stare at him, unconvinced.
We went for a steaming hot shower, and by the time he returned to the room, Sakusa was bundled in a (likely brought from home) thick blanket. Atsumu dried his hair off as much as he could and hit the pillow. Sleep came easy, easier than one with the tension thick atmosphere of your traitor brother.
When Atsumu woke up, it was early. It was something he couldn't help. Even on vacation, his body was almost always in a state of preparedness. And today was match day. Atsumu rose from his bed and stretched, Sakusa was nowhere to be seen. He went down to the living room and in the adjoined kitchen, Sakusa was scraping the pan with a fork, moving the uncooked eggs. Atsumu began filling his water bottle at the tap beside the stove.
"Yer not s'posed ta use metal on pans, ya know? Scrapes the non-stick off."
Sakusa paused. "Then what?"
Atsumu screwed the lid on his bottle. He opened a few drawers until he managed to find a silicone spatula and gave it, handle side towards Sakusa. The curly haired boy stared at it. Then Atsumu. He took it and continued to swirl the eggs around.
"Good luck with yer scramble, I'm goin' fer a run."
Sakusa scowled. "I'm not making scrambled eggs."
"Well then, what's it meant ta be?"
Silence.
"...An omelette."
Atsumu assessed the situation in amused disbelief. he put down his water bottle. What a tragic tale. He held out his hand, open, and with a moment's hesitation, Sakusa handed him the spatula and stepped aside.
Atsumu liked cooking. He didn't care for recipes or fancy things but his mother made it her life's mission to make sure both her kids were independent. On days when she had late nights, it wasn't uncommon to see him firing up tonkatsu while Osamu took over a fried rice or curry. With rehearsed movements, Atsumu turned the stove up and moved the eggs in a circular motion, creating soft lumps of curds. He took a cold chunk of butter from the fridge and ran it along the edges of the pan. A french omlette. Simple, rich and filling. He rolled it up with the help of the spatula and tilt of the pan, depositing it seam side down onto a plate. With a sprinkle of salt, he handed it back to Sakusa.
Sakusa looked at him wide-eyed, and a furrowed brow.
"Ya gotta put the heat higher, don't be afraid of using high heat. Also, ya didn't grease the pan enough so it isn't as shiny and smooth as I'd hoped. But whatever."
Sakusa took the plate, Atsumu stared at his hands, massive, slender fingers with black nail polish on. Sakusa's cheeks dusted with a subtle flush. "I'll keep that in mind."
Atsumu nodded. He reached back and got his water bottle and was out the door.
When he came back, the house was fired up, sitting around the living room discussing strategy. With two setters, Kenma agreed to be relegated to an outside hitter. Besides, it would be stupid of the team to not use him as a setter, he was the best in all of Japan for their age. They walked down to the local school and began practicing.
Fuck... Atsumu missed this, getting used to newer teammates, learning their quirks and melting into one. It was a process, though tough, was incredibly rewarding. He looked over to the other court of the old local gymnasium. Kageyama Tobio was struggling to draw out Osamu's spikes, and considering the way both were equally unwilling to change for the other, it was just furthering tension. He couldn't say it was easy, learning to set for Hinata, but both of them had an equal level of drive and energy, so it was a well matched duo.
Sakusa though... That was another challenge.
"That was too low." Sakusa grumbled.
"Goddamnit. I got too used ta shorty."
"If you can't set to an ace, we're going to lose." Sakusa looked away. "Not like I care about barbecue, but I'd rather avoid losing at any cost."
Atsumu thinks that was meant to instigate him. But it only got him more fired up. Within ten minutes, they were able to vary tempos and figure out hand signals.
"Left!" Shouyo shouted.
With a beautiful follow up from Nishinoya, they were in perfect place to get the most beautiful spike. Osamu jumped to block the orange haired freak, but the rascal jumped first. As he prepared, he heard a call from his right.
"Miya!" Sakusa Kiyoomi's voice had never been louder.
Set. Hit. Slam.
"Fuck yes, match point!" Tanaka shouted. "Come on, Kenma, give us a good serve."
It's not amazing, but it's aimed at Kageyama, which means he can't set. Unfortunately, Osamu is a fine setter and Suna can fuck up a blocker. But honestly, that's what they wanted. Kageyama receives it just fine and as expected, Osamu runs to set. They try to do this fake-out with one of the other wing spikers, but Atsumu knows his twin, and he knows that at this point in time, with the setting experience that he has, there's no chance they'd make it.
"Wait for Suna to change directions, then receive. Give me a nice, high ball." He whispers to Tanaka as Osamu almost reaches the spot to make the set. Suna does his run up. Hinata and Sakusa block the bastard, but he finds the window. It's like clockwork. Atsumu knows he must look mad, wide eyed in sadistic glee as he takes his spot, slap bang in the centre. Hinata waits until the last second to jump. Miya watches as Suna blocks Shouyo, but he can make it. Osamu's keeping an eye on Sakusa he's sure which is why...
Whistle. The ball falls to the floor and the commentator takes over. "And with that nasty dump, the North House has won the Shirakawa-go volleyball tournament!"
Nishinoya jumps several feet in the air, bested only by Shouyo. Even Kenma has a hint of a smile on his face. But Atumu stares at Osamu for a moment. The message is clear. He turns around to his team that's celebrating. It's hesitant, but Sakusa offers him a small pat on his shoulder.
"Good sets." He mutters.
Atsumu smiles wide. "Yeah? Those were some sexy straights ya did in the middle! I dunno how ya managed ta do that, must be yer freaky joints."
"Must you be so crass? I'm trying to compliment you."
"Yeah yeah, Omi-Omi. I know. Thanks." Although his smile becomes smaller, it's even more genuine. Sakusa slips on his mask and he swears, he swears he can see the corner of his eyes crinkle.
The yakiniku place is fancy, the type of place foreigners go to and get overcharged. Atsumu is sure this is a place his mother would save up to take them to. But by god, the food was good. The meet was tender and the dipping sauces flavourful. Atsumu put a couple slices of beef on the grill and soaked in the chatter around him. It was easy with this crowd.
"And then Sakusa-san went bwoah and they, they didn't know where to look!"
"I know Shouyo, I was there." Kenma said, not looking up from his Switch.
"Nah but that dump. Holy shit, that was personal." Tanaka stuffed his mouth with beef straight off the grill and quickly realised his error. "Shit, Shit! Hot!" He downed an iced tea.
Atsumu laughed. "What? Just 'cause I'm a setter doesn't mean i can't score one or two."
He turned his beef meticulously and scooped them onto his bowl. He looked at Sakusa, whose bowl was empty. He quietly put a piece down and leaned closer to him.
"Here. Taste to see if it's done the way ya like."
Sakusa dipped the piece into chilli oil and gave him a nod. "Yeah."
With that affirmation, Atsumu placed a couple more on the grill. "Cool. Ya know, if ya aren't sure how ta grill yer own beef, ya could have asked. I'm not gonna poke fun at ya or anything." He said idly as he placed pieces one by one. It was dropped so it was just him and the other boy who could hear. "No one should ever feel bad because they don't know somethin'. Besides, there's a lot of shit I'm crap at, and ya could teach me too."
Sakusa scoffed. "Yeah? Like what?"
Atsumu didn't know where to begin. He didn't know how to be subtle. To be approachable. He still couldn't handle his liquor or figure out how to voice his thoughts to his brother without sounding ridiculous.
"Yer nails." He said softly. "They're pretty."
He mentally kicked himself. Fuck. Of all things-
"I can paint yours if you want." Sakusa offered. Atsumu didn't trust himself to make eye contact. He was having a staring contest with the beef and the beef was winning. He just nodded silently and went back to listening to his housemates banter. He noticed how although he and Sakusa) didn't really participate, they were reacting actively. Shouyo and the rest would step in every now and then and ask them a question, gauge their interest but it was comfortable.
"You know, we should go out drinking."
Atsumu turned to Kenma and blinked. Of all people? The rest erupted into excitement.
"Yes! I haven't seen Shouyo drunk yet." Tanaka shouted. As he stood up, the table shook.
"Nooooo..." Shouyo covered his eyes. "It's bad. I remember I dragged Kageyama to the floor by his hair and wrestled with him."
"Oh I've got to see this."
Atsumu kind of deflates. It's not that he wouldn't like a drink (rather, three shots in rapid succession) but in the current headspace he was, he knew he'd probably just be more depressed than he was and all the effort that went into trying to suppress the ache would be undone. Besides, he was pretty sure there was only one bar and he'd run into Osamu or Suna, both of which he couldn't really deal with.
"I'll pass. I'm not a fan of crowds." Sakusa said, shortly.
"Yeah, I think I'll head in too." Atsumu said.
"You should come with!" Nishinoya tried to persuade.
"Nah, I'm sure of it. You guys go an' have a good time though." He insisted, with a reassuring wave.
They showed the restaurant their coupon and headed out. The night air is cold and crisp, but the body is warmer after a win, Atsumu feels. So it's okay. He scrolls on his phone on the pavement, waiting for Sakusa to finish washing his hands.
Osamu
congratulations
that was great setting today
i came to tell you in person but you left
but i want you to know im still proud of you
if you want, meet us at the two river bar
Us. When did Suna and he become an Us?
"You didn't have to wait."
Atsumu turned around. Sakusa genuinely looked upset with him. He shrugged. "I didn't skip just for ya. I don't like booze anyway."
Sakusa puts his mask on.
The walk back to the house couldn't have been longer than fifteen minutes, but it felt longer with the silence, not that it was uncomfortable. It was the sort of silence that was organically filled by the wind and the scenery. It wasn't unusual for a long silent walk, but being left alone with his thoughts wasn't the best. By the time they reached the house, his mood was already dampened, and honestly just wanted to go to bed and get the day over with.
But Sakusa Kiyoomi is nothing if not perceptive.
"Come to my bed." He says, shortly. Which both pulls Atsumu out of his thoughts and startles him to no end. Sakusa seems to understand how the words can be interpreted as, since his face mask was off, his entire face and neck goes an embarrassing shade of red. Atsumu is sure he must look a mirror image, except, thankfully more subtle due to his countryside tan.
"I mean, I can paint your nails there. I don't know how clean your sheets are. Wash your hands properly, first."
The clarification is desperate. Atsumu just nods and it's a little embarrassing how he immediately rushes to the restroom and scrubs at his hands. He tries to copy how Sakusa did it, palms, wrists, fingers, nails, thumbs. The orange scented soap suds are washed away and he frantically shakes his hands to air-dry them, worried about using the common hand towel. He changes into shorts and a large, oversized tee so he can sleep straightaway after. He enters the room again and Sakusa is sitting on the bed, cross-legged, with about twelve different bottles of nail polish in front of him. He looks focused. Atsumu settles on the bed and crosses his legs too, it's comfortable.
"What colour do you want?"
Atsumu looks at Sakusa's eyes. They're dark. He can't tell his pupils from his iris unless they're in the sun. Even then, it takes a sense of proximity and time.
"Black." He feels the need to justify it. "Matches with Inarizaki, ya know?"
Sakusa nods. The way he takes Atsumu's hand is so delicate, so gentle. Atsumu feels like he's being taken care of in a way he's never felt before. He feels like it's okay to be soft in this moment, to be treated like he is precious. And Sakusa is deliberate in his every action. He bites his lower lip as he paints his thumb with cautious movements. Atsumu doesn't dare move. Atsumu doesn't dare breathe. He doesn't even realise he's holding his breath until he releases it in a gasp. Sakusa's eyes immediately meet his in worry.
"You're... quiet."
He wants to jab back, to cover this... whatever it is with humour. Deflect. But he can't bring himself to in a moment like this.
"I wanna be present, ya know." Sakusa starts working on his left index finger. "There's moments where ya just gotta be drownin' in it. And it feels good ta drown sometimes."
There's no judgement, just curiosity when Sakusa asks "What do you mean."
These are the thoughts Atsumu doesn't verbalise. They just enter his mind and stay there for a bit, and subconsciously pushes him away from wherever he is. He'd be there in a crowd or with friends, but get lost in his own head. And when he's back, it's like he was never there. But being in his head was better than other people sometimes.
"Ya know sometimes yer with other people... and yer brain just sorta takes ya hostage." His voice is hushed. He still has his kansai drawl, but it softens. "It kinda, pushes ya under water and ya stay there. Kinda floaty. And ya become passive, like the world turns, but yer just... there. Frozen in time and shit."
He realises that saying this sort of stuff could get him sent away to an institution and shuts up.
"Yeah." Sakusa murmurs.
And as he finishes with his left hand and works on his right, it's Sakusa that fills the quiet.
"I don't really do well with people in general. It's just easy to sit in my head, I guess. Komori does his best but I need him as a social crutch or else I know I'm going to end up sitting on the couch and playing all of the New York Times games and when I'm done with those I feel like I disappear."
"Ya think we're ghosts Omi?"
"Wouldn't put you past it. You do seem to haunt me." And Sakusa's cheeky smile adds a couple years to his life.
"What are ya talkin' about, yer as pale as ghost! I swear, yer a vampire!"
"No." Sakusa gently holds his pinky straight. Atsumu feels so small. "Drinking blood seems like the easiest way to catch infectious diseases."
Atsumu grins. Sakusa finishes with his right hand and begins twisting the cap shut of his nail polish bottle. Atsumu admires his handiwork with a soft gasp. He holds out both his hands in front of him, smiling with all his teeth.
"Omi, yer a fuckin' artist."
Sakusa avoids his gaze, but smiles just barely. "I painted them a single colour. That's hardly artistry."
"Nah. This was... this was really good. Thank you."
Sakusa makes eye contact and when both eyes meet, it's genuine. Two more different people had never had such a sense of oneness as this. In that moment, were a thousand outstretched arms and a thousand unsaid words, actualised when brown eyes met black.
The first thing Atsumu noticed when he entered the house was the sheer intensity of the noise.
Now that North house had their own private celebration, the next day's sunset brought almost everyone in the tournament drinking to high heavens. Someone had connected their phone to the speakers and was playing the most obnoxious party music he'd heard. House parties were... interesting. Everyone's not really themselves, swaying with the weight of cheap alcohol. The lights were low, and only lit by the sparse lamps littered throughout the house. He doesn't really know what to do or where to go, so he trails the walls of the living room until he makes it to the drinks table. He isn't sure he wants to drink because after that night in their attic, Atsumu ended up sobbing in Osamu's arms and thanking him for staying home with him when he had appendicitis. He kind of didn't want a repeat performance of that, especially now.
When Yamamoto (he'd been on Osamu's team) came by the drinks table and saw him with a cup full of coke, he was patted on the back warmly.
"Damn, Miya! Someone's having fun tonight."
Atsumu smiled at his own private joke. "Hell yeah."
He walked away from the table, seeing Sakusa leaning against the wall by a tall standing lamp. Atsumu gravitated to him like a magnet. He was wearing this adorable black button up and looking at his phone, concentrated. Intense. As Atsumu got closer, he caught a glimpse of the screen and barked out a laugh.
"Try slope."
Sakusa scowled at him. "I didn't ask for your help." He puts the word in anyways. one by one, each letter flashes green and his Wordle stats pop-up takes over the screen. "Did you solve today's?"
"Nah. But with the L and P placement it's the only one that kinda made sense."
Atsumu leans against the wall beside him against his right shoulder so he can stare at Sakusa directly as he pulls up the Connections.
"Want some?" He offers his glass, only now realises Sakusa didn't have his own.
The boy blinks. "Oh. I don't drink."
"Neither do I." He said with a shrug, "It's only coke. Didn't even take a sip, Omi so ya don't have ta worry about cross-contamination or anythin'."
Sakusa looks wary, but nods and takes a sip. He takes a second after he confirms that it's solely coke and passes the drink back to Atsumu. Together, they're almost able to solve the Connections, but fail to get the groups 'names of President's dogs' and 'first word of horror film titles.'
"How the fuck are we supposed to know some American dog?" Sakusa spits angrily.
"They're racist Omi. It's confirmed. The New York Times is racist."
And Sakusa laughs and it's over for him. Kiyoomi tries to contain it, but it bubbles out of him in crystal clear exclamations that sort of tinkle as they fall past his lips. The worst (best) thing is that it's fucking contagious and soon Atsumu's laughing too. The laughter subsides when his stomach hurts and they sort of stay there, staring at each other. And it's like that until it's embarrassingly long, so he looks away to see...
Fucking hell. It's Osamu. And Suna. And they're obscene, in the middle of the floor, grinding against each other like the world doesn't exist. Suna's back is pressed up against Osamu's in a way that they just slot together and it makes Atsumu's mouth go dry. He takes another sip of his coke, paying so much attention to the liquid that when a figure comes up to him, he barely notices.
It's Sanada. One of the new second years in Fukurodani's team. He's got this messy brown hair that falls over his eyes and an easy smile. Short though, shorter than Atsumu at least, but he oozes confidence.
"You've been staring at the dance floor for a while huh? Come on, join me."
Atsumu's flustered. He turns back at Sakusa who doesn't meet his eyes. He's working on the Strands.
"Hey Omi, ya wanna-"
"Just go, Miya." He sounds cold. Fuck. Okay then.
He lets Sanada take him by the hand to the floor and it starts out innocent enough, but then Sanada starts to move in a way he'd only seen in movies, the kind his mother would not allow him to watch on the living room TV. They come closer to each other and each touch sends shocks to Atsumu. He's never been wanted, not like this. Fangirls were different, they never approached him like this, just hovered around. Sanada was staking a claim on him. The shorter boy leaned forward and whispered in his ear.
"Bedroom?"
Atsumu isn't sure why he says "Uhh... Yeah. Okay."
Sanada and him escape the crowd and he tries to search for Sakusa but can't see him anywhere. Atsumu isn't sure what's about to happen. By some miracle, after two locked doors, they manage to find one that isn't occupied and Sanada isn't afraid to throw Atsumu in, turning around briefly to lock the door with a smirk.
When Sanada pushes him against the wall and pushes him against the wall, it's exhilarating. He presses his lips against Atsumu's and it's something for sure. It's open mouthed and aggressive. It's setting off parts of him he didn't know could react in such a physical way. Not because he's particularly into him, but the adrenaline of it all heats his insides like contrast under a CAT scan machine. He feels like his organs are slowly being heated up. Sanada is handsy and he grabs at Atsumu at ways he hasn't been before. The thing is, it starts out fine, but it becomes too much way too fast when he takes off his shirt and presses both of them together. The roll of his hips makes Atsumu shake and recede into his brain. And he's no longer there in that moment. It feels easier to just let it happen, but a wild sense of panic washes over him, and he feels his whole body react when Sanada presses against him in a way that says that this is wrong.
"I..." He trails off, he can't complete the thought.
"What?" Sanada's breath feels hot in a bad way, burning him, acidic.
"I can't, I'm sorry."
Atsumu is a coward. He doesn't even meet the boy's eyes when he runs out the room, buttoning his pants and fixing his shirt. He walks past the crowd in the passageway that are mostly involved in their own worlds, dancing, drinking, talking. But he can't bother trying to pay attention. He slips into the restroom just as two people slip out and locks the door as it shuts firmly.
"Fuck." He says to himself, covering his eyes. He feels dizzy.
He's probably sure Sakusa would give him so much shit for sitting on the floor of the bathroom but he can't help it, he feels his chest tighten and it hurts to breathe. His inhales quicken and he's breathing through his mouth rapidly. Atsumu clutches the front of his shirt and presses the closed fist against his chest in hopes that it stops the ache, sharp and radiating from his heart outwards. His lungs must have holes, because no air seems to actively give him energy. Each breath is laboured and worse than the previous. He doesn't even have the strength to cry, all his energy going towards trying to stop this feeling. He feels like he's dying, his fingers and hands and arms are all numb. He can't move, he just sits there, back against the tile as he manually slows down his breathing. It takes a while, a long while for his brain to stop feeling like a can of soda and the ache in his chest to calm down slightly.
When he finally stands up, shaky, no longer in pain but still feeling his limbs buzz and numb at the same time to open the bathroom door, he comes face to face with Nishinoya and he doesn't have it in him to pretend to be fine. He's sure he looks like shit.
"You look bad, Atsumu. Are you okay?" Nishinoya asks, holding Atsumu with both hands.
"I need to get out of here." he replied.
"We're leaving to smoke up on the hill. I know you don't do weed but-"
"I don't care, it's fine. I'll come with."
Atsumu feels his heart rate slow down as he waits outside the house with Nishinoya. A couple minutes later, Tanaka and Kenma exit, Tanaka holding a rolled up blanket. The walk up the hill isn't easy. It's hard to see anything in the dark, least of all, the trail they're meant to be following. But they make it, and in the tallgrass, they stomp down a patch and place the blanket down. Nishinoya doesn't ask questions and he's glad. Eventually Tanaka pulls out a rolled up piece of paper from his jacket pocket and this is the first time Atsumu's seen a joint in his life. Kenma gets out a lighter and lights it in Tanaka's mouth. He breathes it in easily, waits and then exhales, leaving a cloud of smoke.
"Want a hit?" Tanaka turns around on the blanket.
And under the stars, on that hill overlooking the valley and villages below Miya Atsumu just wants to be a part of this whole charade for once. He wants to be an eighteen year old who does stupid eighteen year old things. He wants to not just live and breathe for a game of volleyball but live and breathe like everyone else. And so he says "Yeah, dunno how though."
He doesn't really know why he says yes. This feels like something he should be doing. His youth is outrunning him. All he wants to do is catch up. Nishinoya eyes him, warily.
"Fuck. You sure, man? Don't have to."
He's already committed. "Yeah."
"There- you just. In through your nose and then kind of, gasp through your mouth." Kenma demonstrates for him. It feels weird, being taught this sort of stuff, especially by a kouhai. He holds the joint up to Atsumu's lips and gives him a reassuring nod. He leans towards it.
As Atsumu inhales, it grates against his throat oppressively. He fights the urge until he wheezes it out. They laugh.
And then... he feels it. The light-headedness. It's strange. It's a little amazing. His brain sort of buzzes and he feels slightly off balance.
"Woah."
This earns his a round of laughter. Tanaka pats him on the back heavily. "Good man, good man. Come on, one more puff. Then pass to Kenma."
It's easier this time. He tries to just soak in the feeling, the freedom of it. Atsumu feels like he's retreated into the back of his mind, and he's perceiving time in a new way. He still wheezes, but it's just once and Tanaka passes him the water bottle as soon as he passes the joint to Kenma. He looks up at the stars and it's fucking beautiful. He can see the sky swirl with different shades and he feels small in the best way. He isn't sure if it's the weed when he sees stars streak past. And he thinks of Osamu. And how he swore he'd never do any of what he did today. It felt wrong. It felt bad. He just wanted to curl up in his brother's bed and watch some shitty movie together and talk over the dialogue. But he'd fucked that up. While he continued the circle, taking another drag and passing, he just felt worse.
Getting back to the house while high, is far more troublesome than it seems. For one, the weed was really fucking with his spacial awareness. He could have sworn that he walked ages and ages, but found that he had barely walked ten feet. The world around him swirled and shrunk and stretched as it was spotted, fizzy like a cold can of soda. He was pretty sure he was stumbling, but couldn't be too certain, after all Tanaka held his shoulder as they jumped the fence and into Atsumu's house. Atsumu fumbled with his keys, fishing them out of his pocket and barely able to insert them with his piss-poor mobility. But all was saved when the door swung open anyways.
"What the fuck." Sakusa grumbles.
The band of stoned idiots usher Atsumu in. Kenma is the least affected as he informs Atsumu's current roommate, "Don't worry, he's just high. He'll be back to normal next morning."
Tanaka sits him in bed while Nishinoya manages to get his water bottle from the table. "Drink up alright?" Tanaka hands something to him, a chocolate protein bar. "And this is in case you're hungry. Trust me, food its gonna hit."
And just as suddenly as they came, they left. Sakusa walked over to him, assessing his half lidded, red eyes. "God, you're gone. You don't drink but now you get high? Since when?"
"Since today, I guess." Atsumu shifted on the bed to make space for the taller of the two. Sakusa hesitates, but sits next to him regardless.
"Why?"
"Me an' Samu had a fight. He's with Sunarin."
"And? What's the problem with that? What, cause they're both guys?" Sakusa gets slightly guarded.
"What? No." Atsumu scoffs. "I like guys too, ya know. I'm just demisexual so it's real difficult for me to get ta like people." He avoids Sakusa's gaze, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them. "I only really like people when I get ta know 'em. And by then, they already see me as a friend so I don' wanna fuck that up. New people scare me, never know if I can trust 'em. So I just... never get with anyone. I never really felt like there was anything really wrong with me because Samu was also single, sober and just, inexperienced. But now that it isn't true it's like I'm so fuckin far behind."
It's painfully quiet. Atsumu is sure that if it weren't for the drugs, he wouldn't be telling these thoughts to anyone. Sakusa chews on his bottom lip. He waits for an extended moment before resting his head on his shoulder.
"Yeah. Same."
Atsumu's eyes widen.
"Not that I'm demisexual. I am gay, though. But it's more of the fact that I find most people's presence generally unsavoury which keeps me from doing anything."
Atsumu barks out a laugh. Sakusa smiles too. When Atsumu's laughs run out, and he continues laughing and laughing and laughing until Sakusa holds him, gently stroking his back. And then he realises he isn't laughing, because laughing doesn't get your shirt or knees damp. Under an autumn sky, Sakusa and Atsumu cling to each other, knowing that they were whole together. The fabric of Sakusa Kiyoomi's shirt is pure cotton, and feels real in a way that he didn't. It feels a little rough in a good way under his thumb.
"I don't even think I like weed." Atsumu laughs. "I fell like, seven times coming here."
"It smells disgusting." Sakusa removes his head from his shoulder. "Go. Shower."
And Atsumu gets off the bed after a brief wobble. God, his mobility is shit.
When Atsumu wakes up the next morning, he can swear he still feels the weed in his system. Maybe he did go a little heavy on his first try, but fucking hell he could feel traces of the buzz. Not in the sense that he felt actively high, just enough that it was a reminder of what he did last night.
He sat up in his bed. Fuck. Last night was so stupid. Looking at the clock, it was only eight. He had twenty seven hours until he had to leave for Hyogo. Atsumu stretched as he rose, and Sakusa was painting his nails a new colour. It was a deep brown, almost. Atsumu stretched and began to change into his running shorts.
"Run?" Sakusa asked.
"Run." Atsumu hesitated. He turned towards Sakusa, still putting his shirt on. He kind of liked the way the other boy's eyes trailed over his body, which was honestly a first. "Wanna join?"
The silence was... something. Sakusa stared at him. In all honesty, the guy was doing a whole lot of staring. At first, Atsumu felt like a bug under a microscope but now it was routine. Like Atsumu was for his eyes only.
"Give me five."
Running with Sakusa was a different feeling. Firstly, their paces were roughly even, with Sakusa being the tiniest bit faster what with his enormous, gangly legs. The challenge was nice, and they matched pace as they ran along the gravel roads, lined by square paddy fields. He went a bit further than the main village, this time. Together, they ran across the valley's village and through the forested area marked by a trail. As they huffed and pushed themselves, they came to a clearing, to a river that wasn't all that wide and mostly still. The morning sun painted the top with a reflected golden that shone with a thousand other unidentifiable colours.
Atsumu shucked his shoes off.
"Wha- Miya! Get back!"
But it was too late, Atsumu had already thrown his shoes to the side and walked into the river. the water only reached his ankles. He walked further and further until it reached his knees, and then his thighs. The tips of his shorts were ever-so-slightly damp. He stared out at the horizon. It was beautiful. But even more so, was the sight of Sakusa, who was probably freaking out at the sheer number of organisms in the water, who took his shoes off and joined him. He laughed. Clear and genuine and loud, at Sakusa's panicked but determined expression.
"You bastard." Sakusa hissed.
"Isn't the water beautiful, Omi?" He asked genuinely.
Sakusa looked at the water and then back at him. "Yeah, Miya." The corners of his mouth quirked up, just a little. "I guess it is."
Atsumu's smile melted. Fuck. The river, it brought back so much. The tears he'd been holding in for so fucking long escaped him. He wasn't sobbing, just a few stray tears, overwhelmed.
"I uhh. I came down ta the river back home with Samu, ya know? It was fifth grade an' everyone I knew was havin' crushes on girls an' shit but I thought it was a whole loada shit. But then I met Aran and he was so fuckin' funny and tall and kind and I just instantly knew I was different, and as a kid, bein' different is the worst thing ya can possibly be."
Sakusa wades through the water and comes close. Painted hands take painted hands. Atsumu continues.
"So I went ta the river and stayed there, knee deep and just told Samu because it was killin' me Omi. Like I was holdin' in this parta myself for so long. And he said ta me, "Well, if people think yer weird or different, it doesn't matter. 'Cause I'm the same and it'd not weird if we're together." And that was that. If both of us were weird, neither of us were. And whenever I felt like I was fallin' behind or different, it was always fine, 'cause Samu didn't have a boyfriend either, or drink or anything. But he did and the worst was that he lied ta me. I'm not mad that he did any of this shit, and I know I'm blowing it out of proportion, but it was always fine because both of us were equally behind. Now I'm alone."
Sakusa brushes his thumb along the edge of his palm, and with soft, reassuring eyes and a gentle voice he tells him "You're not. I'm here."
Atsumu has been forcing himself to do all sorts of things this week. From sex to weed to all sorts of things, in the moment, he did it not because he wanted to or because it felt right, but because it felt like what he should be doing. This wasn't it.
Kissing Sakusa Kiyoomi started cautiously, like everything about him. When their eyes met, both unsure and tension palpable, it was terrifying. Sakusa's eyes dropped to his lips and fuck did that do things to him. He stepped just the slightest bit closer and brought his hand to Sakusa's cheek, smoothing along the underside of his eyes.
"I lied. I wanted em black ta match yer eyes."
That was enough for Sakusa to make the final jump, grabbing him with both hands and tilting his face to kiss him. It was chaste and closed-mouthed, but Atsumu felt cracks in his chest expand into an effervescent sort of feeling, bubbling across his skin. He gasped, ever so slightly, and that was enough for Sakusa to part his mouth, an open invitation for Atsumu that he so graciously accepted. The feeling of Sakusa's tongue slipping in, his massive hands slipping to the small of his back in his attempt to fuse their bodies together at every joint, it piled one on top of the other. Atsumu isn't sure what to do, and whatever they're doing, it's clumsy but it's fine. Sakusa retreats and peppers kisses against his jawline, it makes the back of his hair raise and body tingle.
"God, you're killing me" Sakusa whispered. "When you disappeared with that... fucking bastard last night I wanted to kill you."
Sakusa kisses at his jaw and Atsumu starts to lose his balance in the water just a bit. "Didn't go far. I didn't want it to. Ended up havin' a panic attack in the bathroom and went off with the guys ta escape."
And Sakusa bites down where his neck meets the collarbone which causes a physical reaction in him. Two actually. One, the moan that slips past his lips is embarrassing and two, the way his knees buckle is the final straw and both of them come crashing down into the water as he topples, Sakusa falling on top of him. They stay there, submerged for just a second and for once, the drowning sensation is no longer solitary. It's tangible. It's tangible when they both resurface, laughing and wheezing and throwing water on eachother and Sakusa yelling about his hair and Atsumu saying he'll be just fine. They'll be just fine.
The walk back to the village is slow, as they hold their shoes in their hands and waddle to avoid chafing. It's supposed to be awful but it isn't. The village has woken up and is in full swing, with most people they saw back at the party passing by, offering them confused looks and greetings. They found a small, local bakery with warm lighting and beautiful wooden interiors. It was small but not cramped. Atsumu fished money out of his soaked pants and bought the two of them warm, toasty milk bread. Sakusa tore out tiny pieces and chewed, it was adorable. Atsumu caught himself staring. Sakusa looked back at him and both of them held the eye contact for a moment before being painted with a furious flush and looking away. As he tore his gaze from the curly haired ace, he saw Osamu sitting on a bench. He'd probably gone for a run as well.
Atsumu gave Sakusa a small, featherlight kiss on the cheek and told him he'd meet him back at the house. He found himself walking up to the bench and sitting down. Osamu looked at him, eyes wide in disbelief. Atsumu couldn't bring himself to look back.
"I really am happy for ya and Sunarin. Yer my best friends. It just felt like ya were hidin' this from me 'cause ya pitied me, or didn't think I'd be able ta handle it which just fuckin' stung. Shit was always fine because both of us were weird and it was like I was alone, ya were leavin' me behind."
"I just didn't want ya to feel left out, or like some third wheel." Osamu says, desperately.
"I know that, deep down. But ya still shoulda told me because instead of figuring things out with ya, and lettin' it happen naturally, I dealt with it on my own and that shit never works out."
"Ya can say that again." He muttered. Atsumu smiled. Osamu catches a glimpse of that smile and pulls him into a tight hug, he holds him close and with force, he can feel the shake in his hands from the intensity.
"Fuck, Tsumu. I missed ya." Osamu sounds absolutely beat up.
Atsumu brings his hands up and squeezes the life out of him. "I missed ya too."
When Atsumu's at the train station with Osamu and Suna, holding onto his duffel, he stops for a moment. The train to Tokyo was supposed to leave as well, and he knew he must have looked jittery. He glanced at the other platform and there- descending the stairs was Sakusa. He dropped his suitcases and ran as fast as he could, whizzing past the other people on the platform and tackled him in a hug. They're both quiet as Sakusa hugs him back, burying his face in the crook of Atsumu's neck.
"Come to Tokyo sometime." He whispers.
"Come to Hyogo."
He can practically feel Sakusa's nose wrinkling. "No Hyogo house parties."
Atsumu laughs. "Course not. But there's a really nice river."
It isn't sad because it isn't goodbye. When they kiss, chaste and short, it isn't forced. And when Sakusa boards his train, waving at Atsumu until they both disappear from each other's vision, it doesn't hurt. It doesn't ache. It's a Friday.