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A Liar's Truth

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T MINUS 2 HOURS TO THE WEDDING

 

“‘Ya ready, Omi-kun?” 

Sakusa blanches. “ You’re calling me that now?”

Osamu chuckles, shrugging his shoulders as he leans against the door frame. “Guess he rubbed off on me. But really. Ready? ‘Ya gotta kiss the groom, y’know? It’s gonna be fuckin’ gross.”

He sighs deeply and they both ignore how badly he’s trembling.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good.” Osamu says. “Because Tsumu’s already cryin’ and we haven’t even gotten to the walkin’ down the aisle part yet. One of ya has to have their shit together out there and God knows it ain’t gonna be him.”

Sakusa shakes his head as if disappointed, but the fond smile on his face betrays it. “He’s hopeless. Go back to your twin. He needs you more than I do.”

Osamu nods. He turns around, pauses, and without looking at Sakusa, asks, 

“You’ll take care of him, won’t ya? I’m pretty much entrustin’ my whole life to you too, y’know? Ya promise to take care of him?”

There’s a long silence after that question, a weighty one that only they would understand, before he answers. 

“With my life.”

Sakusa watches the way Osamu’s hand squeezes the doorknob before he nods slowly. “I’ll hold ya to that.”

As the door clicks shut, he’s left standing in front of the full body mirror. 

He takes a moment to give himself a look over. Letting his eyes roam from his carefully styled hair, light makeup, and fancy tux, he’s reminded once again, that he’s actually getting married.

To Miya fucking Atsumu.

He kind of wanted to laugh and say, who would’ve fucking thought? But he also kind of thought that maybe, from the moment he first laid his eyes on him all those years ago, he already knew it could never be anyone but him. 

Maybe it was having that knowledge, that gut feeling, from the very first time they met, that made everything as terrifying as it was.

Maybe it was just that Sakusa fell too deeply too fast and that was why he tried everything in his power to stop it from happening. And yet even then, nothing could. 

God knows he tried. 

“Omi!” 

Sakusa sighs heavily, turning around to face his cousin. “Komori, call me that again and I’ll skin you alive.”

Komori grins at him, excitedly skipping his way over, and throwing an arm around him. 

“You love me.” He beams, “And I’m proud of you.”

Despite himself, Sakusa can’t help but smile. “I do love you, I guess. And I’m proud of me too.”

Who would’ve thought? 

Looking back at how it all was back then, who would’ve fucking thought?

 

T MINUS 11 YEARS BEFORE THE WEDDING

 

Sakusa Kiyoomi grew up as an only child raised by two very religious and very strict parents. Which was, in a lot of ways, fucking hilarious, because he grew up becoming absolutely nothing like how they wanted him to be. 

His favorite childhood story will always be the day he apparently spoke for the first time. His dad had been carrying him in his arms and trying to convince him to say the word ‘ Dada’ for a full thirty minutes. 

Instead, little Sakusa opened his mouth, took a breath, and in the sweetest, tiniest voice they’d ever heard coming from a baby boy, said,

“No ❤️”

It’s the perfect foreshadowing of the rest of the shit his parents were going to be up against as he grew older. Which is why, like Sakusa said, it was his favorite childhood story. He kind of applauded his one year old self. 

His one year old self who was able to say no to his father without a hint of fear or hesitation, was to this day, the bravest he’d ever been.

Sakusa Kiyoomi grew up studying in an all-boys school where priests controlled more than taught. He learned at an early age to love your neighbor as you love yourself, do not rape, do not steal, be faithful to your spouse, and also don’t eat meat during Holy Week and don’t be gay? 

(He didn’t really get those last ones. Why the hell did Jesus care about meat during that one particular week and what did he have against gay people? He’s the one who made them. They’re straight up vibing.)

Sakusa Kiyoomi was fifteen the first time he saw Miya Atsumu across a volleyball net. 

His hair the ugly color of mustard, a cocky smile, and the thickest pair of thighs he had ever seen on a boy his age, covered in sweat. 

The first thing he remembers thinking at that moment, as the whistle blew signaling the first serve, staring at Miya Atsumu as Miya Atsumu stared back at him, was one of the first things he learned in elementary school. 

Gay people go to hell. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi is fifteen when he first lays his eyes on Miya Atsumu and learns that in this world, he was allowed to be absolutely anything but himself. 

 

__

 

Miya Atsumu grew up as a twin brother. The better, more good-looking, more talented twin brother, as he’d always said. Osamu didn’t really care what he said. 

(Whatever the hell makes ya sleep at night, Tsumu.)

Their parents loved them, spoiled them, Atsumu with all the comic books he wanted and Osamu with all the snacks he wanted. And in return, the twins paid them back with love and volleyball awards. I mean, they also paid them back with screaming matches and terrible temper tantrums but there was always love. 

Atsumu’s favorite childhood story is the same as Osamu’s favorite. 

They’d been about eight when their parents had left them at home for an hour to go grocery shopping, which was a mistake on their part. In their defense though, the twins had always been fairly independent and trustworthy (in some ways) and it’s not like they knew their sons would take that once in a lifetime opportunity to watch porn for the first time. 

 

A few minutes in, Osamu pressed the pause button and turned to look at his brother, looking slightly constipated. 

“Is it weird that I liked lookin’ at the boy more than the girl?” Osamu asked in a hushed, panicked whisper. “Tsumu, I ain’t weird, am I?”

Atsumu wrapped an arm around him and squeezed lightly, shaking his head. “Course not, Samu. You couldn’t be weird.” He says, sounding so sure of himself, “‘Cause I liked lookin’ at him too. I mean, I liked lookin’ at both of them, but him a little more, ya know? And I ain’t weird. So you ain’t weird either.”

After sharing a hug, they end up arguing over how the hell you delete the browser history.

 

They’re ten years old when they’re finally able to put a name to the feeling. They’re twelve years old when they’re able to say it out loud and call themselves what they are without feeling unsure. 

Miya Osamu, gay. Miya Atsumu, bisexual. 

Their mother cries and hugs them both, telling them she’ll love them no matter what. Their father’s eyes widen and he points excitedly at his wife exclaiming, “See, I knew it. I knew it! Honey, you owe me a new office chair!”

After they come out to the only people who really matter, they don’t have an issue coming out to anyone else. Sometimes, it went well. Sometimes, it went terribly. That’s just how the world worked, they learned at the tender age of twelve. And as time went on, it’s something they accepted and got used to. 

At an early age, they learned that this would be the rest of their lives. 

Whoever stayed, they’d be grateful for. Whoever chose to step out of their lives because of it, didn’t deserve to be there in the first place. That’s what their parents had told them and what they learned to believe as true.

Which is why by the time they’re in middle school having to coming out for the fiftieth time and are told by some skinny kid, “You know, gay people go to hell!” He is answered with nothing but a shrug from both twins. 

Atsumu thinks, I mean, yesterday I made Osamu sit in on my Biology exam for me ‘cause I didn’t study, so if I’m going to hell, it’ll probably be for that.

Miya Atsumu is fifteen when he first sees Sakusa Kiyoomi across a volleyball net. 

That day, as the whistle blows signalling his first serve, as he stares at Sakusa Kiyoomi and Sakusa Kiyoomi stares back at him, he learns what the word beautiful really means. 

 

__

 

They shake hands at the end of the match. Itachiyama managed to beat Inarizaki and become champions, but it was a fairly close match. 

They were good enough to make it a challenge. He was outstanding. 

When Sakusa stands in front of Atsumu, their hands outstretched, there seems to be a moment of hesitation that comes over the both of them.

Atsumu is the first to break it, taking the other’s hand and shaking it firmly. 

“Good game, yeah?” He says, a cocky smile on his face. He has a strong Kansai dialect. 

Sakusa swallows. 

“Yeah.” He answered, before turning away in a hurry. 

Later that night, when Sakusa lies in bed, he pumps and strokes and thinks of a face and the sound of a particular voice speaking in a particular dialect. He comes twice. 

And then, he cries for a very, very long time.

The next time he receives a confession from a girl he barely knows, for the first time after years of giving out different forms of cold rejection, he says yes. 

He thinks, this is the only way I’m allowed to live and it’s the only way I’ll allow myself to live.

Nobody needs to know whose name he moans in the depths of the night. 

He lasts a year with her and in a surprising but not really surprising turn of events, she’s the one who breaks up with him over the fact that he apparently loved volleyball more than her. 

He didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t exactly wrong. 

He’s upset but he realizes that what he was feeling wasn’t heartbreak, but defeat. 

He sighs and thinks, well, at least I don’t have to pretend to enjoy making out with her anymore.

And then he thinks, wow, that is fucked up. 

 

The only person he tells is Komori. The only person he knew he could trust was Komori.

 I think I’m gay, he says one night during a sleepover. His cousin is silent for a long time before resting a hand on his knee and saying, thank you for telling me.

He tears up a little and Komori says nothing, just leaves his hand on his knee, and then squeezes it once he’s okay.

Komori was the first person who made him feel like maybe, just maybe, someday it would be okay. It could be okay. Even during the days that his school makes him forget, even during the days his parents say things that make him forget, he forces himself to remember Komori’s reassuring smile and hand on his knee and it’s what gets him through when nothing else seems to work. 

 

He’s seen Miya Atsumu a few more times since the first time and every single time, always through a volleyball net, he feels a surge of anger and resentment that’s hard to keep down. 

Atsumu could probably tell. He always looked annoyingly amused whenever Sakusa snapped at him, as if everything was just a fucking joke. 

He would never understand.

Every time he saw him, all Sakusa could think was, this is all your fault. 

This is your fucking fault. Give me back the normal life you cost me. Take responsibility. 



T MINUS 2 HOURS TO THE WEDDING

 

When Osamu opens the doors, the first thing he hears is the word ‘SUNARIIIIIIIIN’ in the form of a sob. 

The first thing he sees is his brother on his knees, crying so hard that he’s ruining his makeup that’s been retouched twice, as Suna tiredly wiped his tears away with a tissue.

“Atsumu, please, ya fuckin’ drama queen,” Suna begs, cringing at the residue left on the tissue. “Yer gettin’ married in a few hours, get it together.”

“I caaaaaaan’t,” He cries, “I’m just… so happy. I’m so happy. I’m gettin’ married, Rin.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Osamu says, finally making his presence known, kneeling down by Suna and his brother. “For cryin’ out loud, Tsumu. Yer bein’ a mess. Don’t expect me to cover for you out there if ya can’t get it together. I stepped in for yer Biology exam but I ain’t gettin’ married in yer place, ya hear me?”

Atsumu sniffs and pouts as Osamu grabs the tissue in Suna’s hand and takes charge of looking after him the way he has his whole life. 

He’s relieved he has Sakusa to take over that role now. But a part of him can’t help but feel a little left behind. He’s always been Atsumu’s other half. He’s always been The Other Miya. 

Okay, maybe he was still in the middle of trying to accept that that’s about to change. Sue him.

Maybe it’s a twin thing but Atsumu seems to pick up on it immediately and stops crying to throw his arms around his brother. 

Osamu grunts and tries to push him off but Atsumu only hugs him tighter.

“Get off me, ya scrub.” 

“No.” Atsumu says. “I love ya.”

Osamu tries not to start crying too. “Ya should, after everythin’ I’ve done for ya. Now, go get yer makeup done again.” 

Atsumu makes a tiny noise of confirmation and peels himself off. 

“I love ya.” He repeats. “Say it back.”

“No.”

“Samu.”

“I love ya.” Osamu relents. “Go get yer makeup fixed.”

Atsumu stands up, smoothing his tux down, and glances at his brother and Suna. 

“You two aren’t gonna kill each other on my wedding day, are ya?”

Suna rolls his eyes and Osamu does the same. 

“Course not.” Suna scoffs, punching Atsumu’s shoulder. “We’ll do it tomorrow. The fuck d’ya take us for, huh?”

Atsumu looks them both over for a second longer before nodding and giving them both a shaky smile. “Thanks.”

“Sap.” Osamu deadpans. “I said go get yer makeup fixed.”

He finally does.

Osamu and Suna stay planted in their positions for a while, watching Atsumu go, before turning to look at each other. 

It’s awkward. 

It’s always been, the past months they’d had to be left with each other, but it’s warm just the same.

Suna shoves him lightly with his elbow. “How’re ya feelin’? He’s gettin’ married before you. Who woulda thought there was someone out there crazy enough to take him on, huh?”

A very small part of Osamu thinks, it could’ve been me. But he pushes that very small voice down and instead says, “Sakusa Kiyoomi’s always been fuckin’ insane, though. Tsumu’s just a part of why.”

Suna hums. “Those two… are changin’ the fuckin’ world, aren’t they?”

Osamu crosses his arms in front of his chest, exhales deeply. “Two of the most famous volleyball players in the god damn country’re about to get married, Rin. And they’re fuckin’ gay. Doesn’t get any more world changin’ than that.”

“Who woulda thought back then, y’know?” Suna muses. “That this could happen?”

“Who woulda thought?” Osamu echoes, voice nearly a whisper.



T MINUS 10 YEARS BEFORE THE WEDDING

 

Sakusa was chosen to join the Japan All Youth Training Camp. His parents are over the fucking moon. 

They’d been on his case ever since he and his girlfriend broke up. He couldn’t help but feel bad for them. They’d been trying to cheer him up for months when he didn’t even need any cheering up. 

You know what would cheer him up? Being able to come out without the threat of getting kicked out of his home. 

Or maybe like, some new gloves would be nice. Maybe he could tell them to buy him some fancy looking gloves. Black ones instead of white. The power those would hold. 

They’d probably give him whatever the fuck he asked for right now with the way they were bragging about him to their snotty rich friends. Maybe he should just come out now while they’re at a high. 

Like, guys, thanks for all the support, I’m great, aren’t I? Top 3 in the nation, that’s me! Road to sports scholarship! You proud? You should be. Oh and by the way, I’m gay. 

They couldn’t get mad at that, could they?

Komori is invited too. So, that’s one concern out of the way. At least he’d have one person there who he knew he could tolerate. Hopefully, they have the luxury of choosing their roommates. 

The night before he leaves for the training camp, he’s forced into another one of their family bonding evenings. His mom started them ever since he’d told them about his breakup. He’s not quite sure how this counted as bonding, though. 

The TV was on but it was on the news channel, his mom was reading some romance novel, his dad was on his laptop, and he honestly just wanted to go upstairs and take a long, hot shower before packing up.

The last straw is when the news starts talking about a high school senior who’d committed suicide. Apparently, he’d left a note where it implied that he did it because he was gay. 

Well, that’s very comforting. That sure didn’t make him wanna throw up.

Sakusa shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, hiding the fact that they were starting to tremble.

“Poor kid.” His mom sighs, shaking her head, “His parents should’ve done something about it when he was younger.”

“It’s much easier to change when you start them young.” His dad adds.

Sakusa gulps. “Is that really something you can change?”

“Of course, you can.” His dad answers, sounding so sure of himself, that it almost convinces him too. “You can change anything about yourself as long as you work hard enough. Especially, if they’re things that aren’t good for you.”

Sakusa wondered how exactly that worked. What exactly he had to do to… change. He’d already tried everything he could think of. 

The journey involved lots of movies, porn, staring at girls to see if there’s something, anything, that could make him feel something more. 

(It probably made him look like a pervert and it probably freaked some of them out. He’s sorry for that.)

Hell, he even dated a girl for a whole year. All that proved was that he couldn’t fucking do it. 

Girls are pretty. They’re cute, they’re soft, and they weren’t hard on the eyes. He liked looking at them and he liked talking to some of them. But that’s all it was and all he felt that it ever could be. He dated a girl for an entire god damn year and yet he couldn’t feel for her even half of what he felt for Yamazaki Kento or Tom Holland or fucking... 

Miya Atsumu. God damn him. 

He didn’t even talk to any of these people. Two were celebrities. He barely even got to see Atsumu, and their longest conversation lasted two minutes and consisted of nothing but swear words and declarations of war. And yet, he would’ve given his girlfriend away for a chance at nipping at those god forsaken thighs just once. 

Jesus Christ.

Change? How the fuck was he supposed to just change? If he knew, he would’ve done it by now.

He looked at the TV screen, at the picture of an eighteen year old boy, just two years older than him, who’d taken his own life because he couldn’t bear the weight of who he was. 

He thinks, if I can’t make myself change, is that all I’ll have left?

He stands up at that thought, turning for the stairs hurriedly. He tastes bile in the back of his mouth.

“I need to pack.”

 

__

 

“Fuck you, Samu. Why aren’t ya more upset?” Atsumu exclaimed, hands on his hips as he stared at his brother’s hunched back. 

“I am upset.” Osamu retorts tiredly. “But if anything… I’m upset that I’m not as upset as I thought I’d be.”

Atsumu was invited to the All Youth Training Camp. Osamu wasn’t. 

The two have always had an intense rivalry growing up. When every single person you know associates you with another, barely ever seeing you as your own person, you tend to compensate in any way you know how. 

Both of them strive to be better than the other, more talented, more skilled, more muscular, smarter, stronger, anything. And in turn, despite all the bruises, fights, and screaming matches, they push each other past their limits. 

They push each other to be better. 

Secretly, deep down, that’s all they really wanted for each other.

Atsumu, despite being cocky and competitive, especially when it came to his twin, didn’t fucking like playing volleyball without him. It’s the only way he’d ever played and the only way he ever planned to play. And he’d always seen it as a given that Osamu felt the exact same way. 

They’d be playing volleyball together for the rest of their lives and that’s the only future Atsumu ever saw.

Not as upset as he thinks he should be? 

Atsumu sees red.

“Samu. What the fuckin’ hell s’that supposed to mean?” 

“It means,” Osamu says, after he finishes tying his shoes, standing up to face him, “I think that skill-wise, we’re pretty much on the same level,”

“Nah, m’still head ‘n shoulders above ya.” Atsumu scoffs.

“Let me finish, ya scrub.” Osamu huffs. “I said, skill-wise, I think we’re about the same. But, when it comes to love for the game? That fire’s a little brighter in you than it ever was in me, Tsumu.” 

Atsumu can sort of read between the lines of what his brother is saying. He doesn’t wanna admit it. Instead, he turns away. 

“That’s lame.” He simply says, “Who the fuck am I s’posed to room with, huh?”

Osamu raises his eyebrows, mouth forming a smirk. “Y’know... Sakusa Kiyoomi’s probably gonna be there.”

“Shut the fuck up, Samu.” Atsumu says under his breath. “Just… shut up.”

 

__

 

“Your toss was too low, Miya.” Sakusa deadpans.

“No, it fuckin’ wasn’t.” Atsumu spits out, venomously. “You’ve been on my case the entire goddamn time we’ve been paired together. What’s yer problem, huh, Omi? What’s up yer fuckin’ ass?”

Too low, his ass. He was crowned the best setter in high school volleyball for a reason. And Sakusa Kiyoomi may be hot but he wasn’t going to take anyone talking shit about his sets sitting down.

“Stop calling me Omi.” Sakusa says between gritted teeth paired with a vicious glare. If Atsumu weren’t Atsumu, he’d be intimidated. “I told you to call me Sakusa, is that so hard to do?”

“Sakusa’s too long, s’a fuckin’ mouthful, is what it is.” Atsumu says playing with the ball in his hands. “Omi’s cute. Omi’s the nickname yer bein’ given by the best setter in the nation, so jus’ be grateful ‘n fuckin’ nail my sets, ya hear?”

“You being the best setter in the nation means shit to me.” He retorts. “I’m the best ace. Give me the fucking sets I want.”

Atsumu would be so god damn upset right now if he wasn’t equally turned on. 

As he tosses the ball again, higher this time, a little further from the net, two thoughts go through his head.

First, was there even the slightest possibility that Sakusa Kiyoomi could be gay?

Second, if he was, was there even the slightest possibility that he’d be up for a few rounds of hate fucking?

Atsumu’d never experienced any form of fucking but that was starting to sound like a great place to start. 

Sakusa nails his spike. 

He gives Atsumu a flat look. “Now, was that so hard to do?”

Oh, Atsumu could name something hard right about now. 

Being gay and sixteen was tough. 

Being gay and sixteen in front of someone this good looking was not helping his case.

He smiles his signature cocky smile. “You were hittin’ my other sets just fine, Omi-Omi. You hit all my sets perfectly, so ya don’t needa be so cranky all the time.”

“Omi-Omi…” Sakusa repeats to himself, as if questioning his entire existence, slowly turning around to walk away and get a drink. “Fucking… Omi-Omi…”

Atsumu cocks his head.

He feels a presence behind him and turns around, recognizing the face to be someone named Komori. A guy from Omi’s team.

“I think you broke him.”

Atsumu thinks, no, I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around.

He crouches down, hides his face in his knees, and screams a little bit. 

 

__

 

This just had to be the cherry on top of Sakusa Kiyoomi’s long day, long week, long fucking life.

“So, which d’ya prefer, Omi-Omi?” Atsumu asks, in that flippant way he always does, motioning to their shared bunk bed for the next few days. “Top or bottom?”

Sakusa turns to look at him and Atsumu’s staring at him with one eyebrow raised, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. 

He knew what he was doing. 

Oh god, he fucking knew what he was doing, didn’t he? Those rumors he’d heard from the players that Atsumu was gay were true, weren’t they?

There’s a pause.

This is a problem.

“Give me a minute.” Sakusa says, dropping his bags on the floor. He walks to the bathroom, gently closes the door behind him, turns the lock, sinks down into a crouch, bunches up the lower half of his sweater, bites into it, and screams into the wool.

 

He takes a deep breath. In and out. Inhale, exhale. It’ll be fine.

 

When he clicks the door back open, he hears Atsumu’s voice, probably talking to someone on the phone as he says, “- and we’re roommates.

A voice in Sakusa’s core memory goes, oh my god, they were roommates. 

“Both.” He speaks up, making Atsumu jump, reflexively hanging up on whoever he was talking to. Probably his twin, if Sakusa had to make a guess.

Atsumu visibly swallows. “What was that, Omi?”

Two can play at this game. 

At least for this week, when it’s just the two of them, in the privacy of these four walls, he can allow himself to play at this game. 

Maybe, it’s the only time in his life he’ll ever get to play.

“I’m okay with both.” Sakusa clarifies, walking up to Atsumu with his chin tilted up, as if challenging him, taking the opportunity to let his eyes roam over his facial features. 

“Top or bottom. I’m leaving the choice to you, Miya.”

Atsumu takes in a shaky breath, licking his lips at their sheer closeness. 

“U-uh…” Get your shit together, Miya Atsumu, Samu would be disappointed in you right now. 

He steels himself and looks Sakusa straight in the eye, making sure he sounds as suggestive as he possibly can when he says, “I’ll take bottom then. Top’s all yours.”

There’s a look in Sakusa’s eyes at that moment, behind the brave front he was putting up, which was how Atsumu could tell that he was just as affected by him as he was by Sakusa. 

(Atsumu thinks back to his earlier thought process, was there even the slightest possibility that Sakusa Kiyoomi could be gay, and the answer is yes. There was now, at least, a 50% chance that he was. Maybe even higher.)

The boy merely nods, reaching for one of his bags, to start unpacking. 

“We can switch whenever you’d like, though.” Atsumu adds for good measure, flopping down onto his temporary bed. “I kinda wanna get the feel of both, y’know what I mean, Omi-kun?”

Atsumu isn’t sure if he just imagines it, but he thinks he hears a choking sound. 

(Okay, maybe 60%.)

 

__

 

“Do you think Miya’s gay?” Sakusa asks unprompted, as they eat their lunch.

Komori chokes on broccoli. “I… what?”

“Do you think he’s gay.” He repeats, as if this was a very normal conversation to be having with Sakusa Kiyoomi.

“Uh…” Komori starts, slowly putting his utensils down, clasping his hands together, “I’ve… heard certain rumors but I wouldn’t know if they’re true.”

Sakusa hums, staring into nothing.

Komori realizes he’s treading on tough waters here, but he has to ask. “Why, do you… like him or something?” 

Sakusa doesn’t look disgusted, doesn’t deny it vehemently, doesn’t even seem to be surprised at the question. 

Komori tilts his head, thinks, this is… new.

“No.” Sakusa says finally, after seemingly giving it some thought. “I don’t… I think.”

“You think?”

There’s a long silence between the two as they continue eating their lunches. What breaks it is,

“Do you think it’s possible to hate someone’s guts so much that you want to have sex with them?”

Komori actually chokes for real this time. A few rice particles fly onto the table and Sakusa visibly grimaces, backing away.

“Dude.” Komori sputters. “What the hell.”

Sakusa continues to stare at him with a deadpan expression, as if this wasn’t the most jarring thing to have ever come out of his cousin’s mouth. This was not a conversation Komori thought they would ever be having.

“What?” Sakusa asks, looking genuinely confused and slightly displeased. “Is that… not a thing?”

“No, no, it’s…” Komori hesitates, “It’s definitely a thing. I just… didn’t expect to get that image of you and him... in my head.”

Sakusa cringes. “Sorry.”

They’re quiet for even longer after that. 

Komori thinks about how terrified Sakusa looked that night he came out to him. That was probably the first and only time he’d ever even said it out loud. 

He also thinks about how that was the first and only time he’d ever seen his cousin cry. 

He looks at the Sakusa in front of him now, eating chicken breast so casually, as if he hadn’t just talked about wanting to have sex with Miya Atsumu. That was some growth. 

He figured it had a lot to do with the fact that this was gonna be the longest time so far in his life that he’ll be away from the watchful eyes of his family. 

Add the fact of who his roommate was gonna be for the next four days.

Komori couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must be like to live your life knowing who you are and not being able to do anything about it. Komori wished he could’ve told him that night that, you’ll be okay, you’ll be safe, be yourself, don’t be afraid

But he couldn’t. He’d be lying.

He knew the world they lived in. He knew the type of person Sakusa Kiyoomi was.

He knew Sakusa Kiyoomi’s parents.  

 

The Miya Twins always had gay rumors. Being athletes, a lot of people saw it as hot gossip. Komori had been hearing about it for years, but never cared enough to go out of his way to find out if it was true. 

Honestly, Komori was pretty damn sure either twin would tell the truth if people would just ask instead of whisper behind their backs. Homophobia and toxic masculinity were pretty damn rampant in the sports scene, hence the trash talking, but no one seemed to have the actual guts to go up to them. 

They were probably too scared to face the truth.

The truth that either of them being gay didn’t change and would never change the fact that they were still and always will be, two of the greatest players in high school volleyball. 

Komori smiled to himself when he thought about the fact that Sakusa was on the same boat. The toxic straight men would lose their damn minds.

It was only after seeing the way Atsumu acted around his cousin (and also around that genius setter from Karasuno… Kageyama, was it? Atsumu talked to that guy like he wanted to eat him up, or something.) that he thought to himself, huh… 

Maybe. Most likely, honestly.

If Sakusa was drawn to him, and Atsumu was drawn to him back, and if they were roommates, then…

Then, maybe...

“You can let yourself live a little, Sakusa.” Komori says, without raising his head to look at him. “Let yourself live… even if it’s just for a little while. Even if it’s just for now. It’s okay to just... feel it.”

He sees Sakusa’s fists clench against the table.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Komori continues, voice low and sincere. “Not a fucking soul.”

A promise.

 “I just want you to be happy. Somehow.”

A few long seconds pass before Sakusa speaks. 

He takes pride in the fact that his voice is only slightly shaky and his eyes are only slightly watery when he says, “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Komori says. “I mean it.”

 

__

 

“Alright!” 

The ball flies towards Atsumu who in turn gets ready for a set and yells, “Omi-kun!”

Sakusa runs, jumps with his right arm in the air, and the ball seems to come flying directly into his palm, a snug fit, as he does what Atsumu had started calling his Bendy Wrist Spike.

They win the set.

Sakusa turns to see Atsumu high fiving the others, Kageyama Tobio, Hoshiumi Kourai, even Komori, before turning to him.

Atsumu lowers his hands, settling them on his hips as he tilts his head at him. “Look at you, bein’ all cocky for gettin’ that winning spike.”

Sakusa’s eyes narrow at him. “I don’t know what you mean, Miya.”

“Hmmmmm,” Atsumu hums, walking to his side, gently nudging him with his elbow, “Y’know, Coach said a while ago that we work best together. I heard ‘im.” 

“Did he?” Sakusa asks, not exactly surprised. 

Best setter. Best ace. Of course, they work well together. They wouldn’t be the best if they couldn’t work well together.

“What d’ya think, Omi?” Atsumu presses, “Ya think we’re good together?”

When Sakusa turns his head to properly look at the boy next to him, they nearly bump noses. Sakusa hadn’t even realized how close Atsumu was standing.

He’s met with Atsumu’s wide eyes. 

His face looked like it used to have his signature cocky smirk on it before it was replaced with an expression of what Sakusa could only describe to be horny panic. 

He could only fucking hope he didn’t have the exact same expression on his face.

It’s only when his eyes start drifting down to Atsumu’s lips that Sakusa realizes where exactly they are and how many people are standing around them. 

He coughs awkwardly and with much difficulty, manages to look away.

Atsumu is still staring at him.

He takes a step away and heads for the benches, bending down to reach his water bottle. “Stop staring at me.”

“Y’like it when I stare at ya?” Atsumu teases, stubbornly skipping towards him, plopping himself down on the bench, tilting his head to look Sakusa in the eye again.

Sakusa merely turns away, turning his attention to his suddenly very interesting gym bag. “I’m asking you to stop because I don’t like it.”

Atsumu remains unfazed. 

“Nah,” He says, leaning back on his arms, “Yer askin’ me to stop ‘cause ya like it a little too much.”

“You’re full of yourself.” Sakusa glares.

“I know the way people stare at me when they want me,” Atsumu retorts, leaning forward again before Sakusa can begin to look away, “And you stare at me an awful lot.”

Sakusa’s grip around his face towel tightens. “How would you know that? Pay attention to me that much?”

Atsumu doesn’t even flinch. 

“Because I stare at ya an awful lot too,” He says, leaning even closer as if he were about to kiss him, before swerving to speak directly into his ear, “Omi-kun.”

He walks away after that, casually, as if he hadn’t just sent Sakusa’s world spinning out of control. He hears him call for Hoshiumi to practice some quicks.

Sakusa can only let himself sink into the bench, supporting himself with one hand, feeling his knees shake slightly. Jesus.

Jesus.

He starts looking around in a panic, wondering if anyone fucking saw that, because he knew that if they did see it, they would know. 

They would know. 

Sakusa wonders if anyone could have seen that and not put two and two together.

He scans the room and searches for an expression that would hint that the world suddenly knew that he was gay. He doesn’t find anything. 

He tries to steady his breathing. 

Nobody knows. They didn’t see. They couldn’t tell. It’s okay. He’s okay. Only Komori knows. And Atsumu.

Atsumu.

Fuck, Atsumu. If he didn’t know then, he knew now, didn’t he? Fuck. 

He feels himself starting to spiral. He’s spiraling. He can’t spiral. They have a few hours left.

 

In and out. In and out. In and out. Inhale, exhale. It’ll be fine.

 

__

 

The room is completely dark save for a sliver of moonlight that made its way in through the curtains and the small but bright light coming from Atsumu’s phone. 

Sakusa breathes deeply, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, going back and forth between going to bed or… saying something.

The wood of their shared bunk bed creaks as Atsumu changes positions, heaving out a tired sigh as the light from the bottom bunk disappears. 

It’s now or never. 

Sakusa takes a deep breath. “Miya.”

Atsumu doesn’t answer right away. There’s a silence that lasts a few seconds longer than Sakusa deemed comfortable, until Atsumu clears his throat. 

“What’s up, Omi? Havin’ trouble sleepin’?”

“I have to ask you something.” Sakusa says, controlling the shake in his voice, trying not to reveal the fact that he’s nervous for a reason he can’t even pinpoint. “You can choose not to answer if you don’t want to.”

Atsumu hums. “Yer bein’ weirdly polite… how ominous.” Sakusa hears the wood creak again as Atsumu probably sits up. “Alright. What’s yer question?”

Sakusa licks his lips, closes his eyes, and thinks, fuck it. 

“Are you gay?”

Sakusa knows that if it were him being asked that same question, he’d probably spiral. He’d probably throw up. There would probably be a Sakusa Kiyoomi shaped hole in the door right about now. He expects a reaction of that dramatic degree as he waits for Atsumu to answer.

Instead, he hears a faint chuckle.  

“Really thought ya woulda realized it by now.” Atsumu answers, “Yeah, I am. But I’m not exactly gay, I’m bisexual.”

Oh.

“Oh.” Sakusa manages to let out, “That was… easy.”

Atsumu properly laughs this time. “What, ya thought you’d hafta wrestle the answer outta me?” 

“I guess.” Sakusa says, honestly. “People talk a lot, you know. About you and your brother. I just assumed people talked ‘cause they’d never gotten a direct answer.”

“Y’know, Omi,” Atsumu muses, “Yer the very first one who’s had the guts to just ask me. If any one of ‘em did, I woulda answered ‘em the exact same way I did just now. I ain’t ashamed of who I am and I don’t make a big deal out of it. Neither does Samu. Everyone else is makin’ a mountain out of a molehill.”

Miya Atsumu. The first openly gay kid that Sakusa Kiyoomi ever meets. Confident and openly gay, at that. 

He still didn’t like him. He still thought he was a cocky bastard. He still hated his guts. But now, he guesses he admired those guts too. 

If anything, he was at least proof that maybe one day, Sakusa could be in a place in his life where he could be the same. 

Confident. Completely himself, unapologetically. Out .

“How’d you know?” Sakusa asks.

“Ah, so this is storytime now, huh?” Atsumu shoots back, amused.

“Just fucking answer me.” He huffs, pulling his blankets up higher, tucking them under his chin. 

“I fuckin’ watched porn with Samu when I was eight.” Atsumu answers, a laugh in his voice. “That’s how I fuckin’ knew.”

Sakusa can’t help the laugh he lets out at that, too. “That’s anti-climactic. I was hoping for a more dramatic story than that.”

“Sorry to disappoint ya, Omi-kun.” Atsumu sighs, sounding nostalgic. “But that’s really where it started for me, ya know? After that… figurin’ myself out came easier. I always liked lookin’ at both. Guys a little more than girls, but I knew it was both. Ya get me, right?”

“I do.”

It’s quiet after that and Sakusa starts to feel tense. He clutches onto his sheets. 

It’s usually around this time that the other would get curious and start asking questions back, right? Something like, hey, why are you asking? Hey, is there a reason you’re asking for my life story past midnight? Hey… are you gay too?

Atsumu almost does. He almost asks. But he remembers what it was like to be ten years old, knowing the way he felt, but still being a little too scared to say it out loud, not knowing what words he was supposed to use. He remembers what it was like to stare at a boy in his class, thinking he was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, and deciding not to tell him. He remembers a girl in his class who liked him and who he liked back, but nothing had ever happened because rumors spread that he liked boys too and that ruined everything.

He remembers what it was like to be scared. He remembers what it was like when he didn’t dare to say it out loud himself. Hearing other people say it for him made it worse. 

So, he doesn’t ask. 

Instead, he shares what he thinks his little self would’ve wanted to hear. He gives Sakusa Kiyoomi something that he never really got for himself back then.

“Hey,” He starts, “Wanna hear ‘bout when Samu and I came out to our parents and it turned out they knew all along and even bet on when we’d just go ahead and tell ‘em? Dad got a new fuckin’ office chair out of it.”

Sakusa lets out what Atsumu assumes is a breath of relief. And then, after a moment, he chuckles. 

“Tell me.” He says, his voice almost a whisper, “Tell me whatever the hell you want, Miya.”

So Atsumu just keeps talking. About his parents, about his first few crushes, about the funniest coming out stories he could think of, about meeting other people who were just like them, about Osamu and Suna’s awkward first kiss and how he’d walked in on them in the middle of it and said, “Niiiiiiiice .” 

The last thing Sakusa hears before he drifts off to sleep is Atsumu going off about how guys should be able to wear lip gloss without being given shit for it. The last thing he feels is gratitude.

 

__

 

“Ya worked hard today.” Atsumu comments as they drag their tired bodies into their room on the third night, slamming the door close behind them. “Yer body still gonna make it another two?”

“It fucking better.” Sakusa grumbles, pulling his mask down and setting his bag on the floor. “If it doesn’t, I’ll make it.”

Atsumu snorts. “Yer kinda terrifying, Omi-Omi.”

“Don’t call me that as if everybody else doesn’t call you the same thing.” Sakusa retorts, taking hold of the bottom of his jersey and pulling it over his head. 

Atsumu turns away in a panic, pointedly staring at the wall.

“I’m gonna go for the hot bath before everyone else contaminates it with their germs.” Sakusa says, throwing a towel over his shoulder. 

“Y-yeah. Sure.” Atsumu manages to choke out.

He makes sure to wait for the door to open and then close, before he shuts his eyes and lets out the breath he’s been holding in. 

He sinks down to his bed, burying his face in his hands.

 

“AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH.”



He’s still in that same position by the time Sakusa returns and regards him with a confused look. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Miya?”

“Everything.” He answers, before reaching for his bath essentials, and heading out the door without even sparing the boy clad in nothing but a towel a glance, lest he embarrass himself by setting some sort of world record for getting hard in the shortest amount of time. “My turn.”

As Atsumu sits in the bath that’s so hot he thinks he’s gonna come out of it cooked, he thinks again, was there even the slightest possibility that Sakusa Kiyoomi could be gay? 

Because while his gaydar was pinging at a steady 70% now, maybe even more, when it came down to it, it’s really still a 0% unless confirmed by the person in question. 

He groans again. 

Will Atsumu survive this? Stay tuned.

He steels himself as he steps out of the bath, mentally preparing himself to return to his shared room with a... volleyball playing Greek God. 

He’s met with the view of said Greek God in his pajamas, sitting on the bottom bunk, his bunk, rubbing at his wrists. Sakusa looks up at him, eyes widening at the sight of his wet upper half, and then whips his head back down, ears turning red.

(80%?)

He’s flustered. Atsumu takes some pride in that. 

He puts on a little of a show when he pushes his hair back, before bending down to reach for his shirt and boxers.

“Yer wrists alright?” He asks, noticing the way the boy was still pressing on them gently.

Sakusa hums, still pointedly ignoring the view. “They get sore easily. I’ve been working them too hard.”

Once Atsumu is decent, Sakusa raises his head. 

“Ya ain’t injured, are ya?” Atsumu asks, slightly concerned. “Can’t have that.”

Sakusa shakes his head. “They’re fine.”

Atsumu ruffles his hair one last time before making his way to Sakusa, casually sitting on his bed like he belonged there. 

He takes a seat next to him, keeping a reasonable distance. 

“Want me to rub ‘em for you?”

Sakusa pauses in his ministrations. Actually, a more accurate description is that he seems to… shut down Microsoft Windows style for a whole second. 

“Uh,” Sakusa starts, one hand clenching into a fist, “You don’t need to do that.”

He’s flustered again. 

Atsumu wonders how far he should push this, how far he can push this before it gets too much. 

“Ya sure? I do it for Samu all the time.”

Sakusa’s mind runs on overdrive with only two thoughts going back and forth, fighting against each other. 

First, holy shit. Second, you can’t.

But then a third voice pops up in his head, a familiar one, sounding suspiciously like his cousin, saying, let yourself feel it.

Let himself feel it, huh.

“Fine.” Sakusa says, slightly moving one of his arms towards Atsumu. “Just for a bit.”

Atsumu beams.

The second he puts his hands on him, there’s static. 

No, really.

There’s static.

“Fuckin’ ow.” Atsumu hisses, tearing his hands away for a moment. “See that, Omi? Maybe coach was right about us bein’ good together. We got a spark, see?”

“I’m really gonna kill you one of these days.” Sakusa deadpans. “Get on with it before I do.”

Atsumu’s smile is both arrogant but also fond when he reaches for Sakusa’s wrist again. How that’s even possible, he doesn’t know. 

Atsumu presses fingers against his palm, his wrist, a little up his arm, and then down again. Sakusa finds himself leaning against the wall, allowing his eyes to close for a little while.

He hears Atsumu chuckle softly. “Yer likin’ this, huh?”

“Keep talking and the moment’s over, Miya.”

“My lips are sealed, good sir.” Atsumu says playfully, continuing his massage. 

Sakusa can’t really help it when he breathes out a sated sigh. 

He thinks about the night before. He thinks about how easy it’d be for Atsumu to tell people about him, how easy it’d be for him to start gossip the way everyone else had about Atsumu, how easy it’d be to start rumors about Sakusa Kiyoomi’s sexuality. 

He thinks about how he knows he wouldn’t. He thinks about how Atsumu, for some reason, knew what not to ask, what Sakusa needed to hear in that moment. He thinks about falling asleep to the sound of the same Kansai dialect that used to star in his jerk off fantasies last year. He thinks about gratitude. He thinks about the fact that he’s sitting next to a boy who he barely knows but at the same time, understands deeply.

That’s just how it is for people like them.

It’s when Atsumu reaches for his other wrist that Sakusa decides to say something.

“For last night,” He starts, making Atsumu pause, “I wanted to say thanks.”

His eyes remain closed but for some reason, he can hear Atsumu’s smile. He doesn’t know what to make of that. 

“Ya startin’ to like me, Omi-Omi?” He teases.

Sakusa hesitates, wonders if he should play along with Atsumu’s annoying flirtatiousness, but decides against it. He thinks, let yourself feel it. He thinks, just this once.

“Still can’t fucking stand you, actually.” He gripes, which earns him a laugh, “But… you’re alright, I guess. Sometimes.”

Atsumu’s hands stop moving completely and there’s a meaningful silence that surrounds their room and Sakusa thinks, now I’ve done it.

When he opens his eyes, Atsumu is looking at him with an expression he doesn’t recognize. He looks at him like no one’s ever looked at him before. 

And Sakusa thinks to himself, what would it take, how much does he have to give, for Atsumu to keep looking at him like that for the rest of his life?

He doesn’t realize that Atsumu had been moving in closer until he feels his breath against his lips. Sakusa doesn’t realize he has a hand on Atsumu’s thigh until he subconsciously squeezes it and he tenses. 

He stares into brown eyes and brown eyes stare back at him, so clear, rid of that faux arrogance he always had in them. 

Instead, Sakusa sees something that almost resembled… fear. 

It’s that look in his eyes that snaps Sakusa back to reality. It’s his own heartbeat in his ears that takes him back to sitting in the living room, looking at the headshot of an 18 year old boy whose life was taken by his sexuality. It’s the ghost of a touch against his lips that takes him all those years back, sitting in a classroom, gay people go to hell.

“Fuck.” He gasps, instantly pulling away, as if he’d been burnt. 

He stumbles out of the bed, eyes wide and panicked, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth. “Fuck, I… shit , I’m sorry.”

“No, Omi, it’s…” Atsumu starts, looking just as disoriented, refusing to meet Sakusa’s eyes, “I’m… m’sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Yeah, no, that wasn’t,” Sakusa stutters, running a hand through his hair, “That wasn’t… I mean, I’m not like tha-”

“I got it.” Atsumu says, cutting him off. And he has another expression on his face that Sakusa’s never seen on him before. 

Shame.

A few minutes later, they find themselves lying in their respective beds with all the lights shut off. All that’s left is the sliver of moonlight that makes its way past the curtains. 

It’s quiet as Sakusa pretends to be in deep sleep, as if his heart wasn’t still trying to beat its way out of his chest. And it’s a few moments later that he hears a sad voice coming from the bunk below him.

“Hey, Omi?” Atsumu calls out, and without waiting for a response, continues. “I’m sorry about a while ago. I got… carried away, y’know? M’sorry I pushed you to do somethin’ ya didn’t want…” He pauses, “... or weren’t ready for.”

Sakusa squeezes his eyes shut.

“I won’t do it again.”

He learns that very night, that when you want something so badly that it scares the shit out of you, it tends to translate as dislike to other people. 

He doesn’t get any sleep that night. 

He pretends, though. He wonders if Atsumu was pretending too. 

 

__

 

The next day is tense. 

It’s tense and it’s weird and it’s so awkward that it’s almost painful. It would’ve been easier to get through if the terrible mood only stayed between the two of them, but as if they couldn’t help it, it had spread to everyone else in their immediate surroundings.

Atsumu has resorted to speaking to him only when it’s volleyball related. Otherwise, he spends most of the day sticking close to Kageyama, who just looked confused about the whole thing. At one point, Sakusa thinks he hears the two talking about being a ‘goody two-shoes’ whatever that meant. He didn’t even wanna know. 

The day stretches on like that. Uncomfortable.

Kageyama cringes at a missed spike by Sakusa that was set by Atsumu, Hoshiumi gives Atsumu shit for being so off when he’d been doing fucking perfectly the past few days, and Komori starts giving them concerned looks.

Sakusa waves his cousin off, mouthing, none of your damn business. 

But then, a thought crosses his mind. 

Was it written all over his face? Did they all know? Can they tell what happened last night? 

It’s that thought that leads him into a bathroom stall, after leaving with nothing but a hurried ‘just a minute’ directed towards their coach. 

He feels himself spiraling. The walls start closing in, his chest gets tighter, his hands go numb, and he clenches and unclenches them, struggling to get the feeling back.

He focuses on his breathing.

 

In and out. Inhale, exhale. It’s going to be fine.

 

After he manages to gather himself and walk out of the bathroom, the first sight he’s greeted with is Atsumu sitting on the ground with his legs spread completely open, as Hoshiumi dug a knee into his back pushing him forward, helping him stretch.

Atsumu winces, groaning a little. “Yeah, that’s good… can you do it a little harder-” 

Sakusa walks right back into the bathroom. He wants to fucking die.

 

__

 

Atsumu’s night had already been planned out since he woke up in the morning. 

After practice was over, he’d eat dinner, take a shower, jerk off, do his skincare routine, and then he’d vent to his twin.

He stares at the closed door. Sakusa normally took much longer than him both when it came to eating and soaking in the bath, and he just assumed he’s gonna take even longer this time to avoid him. 

Atsumu sighs. 

He adjusts the towel around his waist and picks up his phone.

It rings twice before Osamu answers. 

“Ew.” 

“Don’t fuckin’ ew me, ya scrub.” Atsumu hisses. “I’m losin’ my fuckin’ mind here and ya ain’t even here to suffer with me.”

“Is this just you bein’ yer dramatic self or are ya actually sufferin’ out there?” Osamu asks, mouth full of what Atsumu assumes to be onigiri.

“Are ya eatin’ onigiri?”

Osamu pauses. “How the fuck did ya know that?”

“Dunno if it’s a twin thing or if yer just that predictable.” Atsumu shrugs, even knowing Osamu won’t see him. “But I am sufferin’. I fuckin’ hate yer ass.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Osamu says tiredly, taking another bite, “Did ya have anything else to tell me or are ya just gonna be annoying the whole time? ‘Cause I’ll hang up.”

Atsumu pauses. “Samu?”

“Hm?”

He sighs, resting his head against the wall, “Ya shoulda been here. They woulda let us room together.”

“Ah,” Osamu snorts, “It’s about yer roomie. What happened with you and yer… Omi-kun, was it?”

“We almost kissed last night.”

Atsumu hears what sounds like a spit take. “The fu- you almost what?”

“Kissed, god damn it!” Atsumu repeats, “I dunno, one second I was massagin’ his freakishly bendy wrists and the next we were ‘boutta… do it.”

“Tsumu, fer the love o’ I don’t even know, don’t tell me ya just sprung one on him.” Osamu says in a hurry, “Ya gotta make sure they want it too if yer gonna put yer mouth on ‘em.”

“Okay, Mr. Kissing Expert, just ‘cause shit worked out with you and yer dumb boyfriend.” Atsumu huffs. “I did, I mean, I… I thought… look, he was the one who said it was alright if I rubbed his wrists, alright? And when I leaned in, he fuckin’ put his hand on my thigh and did the same, what was I s’posed to think?”

“Okay, so,” Osamu clarifies, “so that happened and ya almost kissed… why almost? Did ya get interrupted or somethin’?”

“Or somethin’.” Atsumu says, walking across the room to flop down on his bed, stretching his legs out. “He suddenly freaked out on me. I don’t think he’s… I dunno, I mean, I thought he was gay, I kinda felt it and y’know how accurate my gaydar is, but…”

Osamu hums, thinking. “Was he not?” 

“I dunno, Samu.” Atsumu groans. “I dunno. Maybe he isn’t or maybe he’s just still goin’ through it, y’know? Figurin’ shit out. I mean, we’ve all been there.”

It’s quiet on the other end for a few seconds. Atsumu doesn’t really care. Sometimes, just having his twin on the other line was comforting.

“Ya feelin’ alright?” Osamu asks, carefully. “He wasn’t a dick about it, was he? Need me to go over there ‘n punch him for ya?”

He loved Osamu, sometimes. 

“It killed me a little inside, but it wasn’t really his fault, y’know?” Atsumu says, “Ya don’t needa punch no one.”

“If ya say so, Tsumu.” Osamu seems to think about it for a little before continuing with, “Don’t beat yerself up over it, alright? I don’t think ya did anything wrong… maybe talk to him about it, though.”

Atsumu merely hums.

“And be careful, hear me? Don’t hurt yerself.” He says, “... or him, if he’s still, y’know, figurin’ his shit out. It’s not a great place to be, not knowin’ yerself. That takes some time.”

“Mm.”

“Tsumu.”

“I fuckin’ got it.” Atsumu grumbles, “Don’t start naggin’.”

He hears his brother sigh on the other end of the line. “D’ya like him?”

“I mean, I fuckin’ tried to kiss him, didn’t I?” Atsumu retorts.

“No, ya dipshit, I mean do you fuckin’ like him? I mean, beyond wantin' to make out or touch his dick, d’ya wanna hold his hand, feed him fuckin’ soup, and go on shitty dates with him?”

“Ya mean do I wanna be gross with him like you and Sunarin?” Atsumu clarifies, bitterly. “We don’t all get to end up bein’ cute with our crushes at the end, Samu. Sunarin’s been smitten with you since freshman year and Omi fuckin’ hates my guts half the time.”

“Not much we can do about that ‘cause everyone hates yer guts.” 

“Saaaaaamuuuuuu,” Atsumu whines, “Can’t ya just tell me, hey, yer the best, someone’ll come around and love ya, like you know I need to hear right now?” 

“Get yer shit together.” Osamu says with a tone of finality. “And put some fuckin’ clothes on before calling me.”

Atsumu looks down at himself. “How the fuck did ya know that?”

“Twin thing?” He answers, “Or maybe yer just that predictable. G’night, dipshit.”

“Wait, Samu but what do I do about my stupid fuckin’ crush on Omi-”

At that moment, three things happen. 

The first thing, Osamu hangs up before he can finish his sentence, the god damn waste of sperm.

The second thing is that he stands up, drops his phone, and his towel unwraps so he has to keep it up with one hand to cover at least his front half.

The third thing is that just as he says ‘stupid fuckin’ crush on Omi’ the door opens and in comes the subject in question, similar to him, clad in nothing but a towel.

There’s a momentous silence that follows as the product of those three things. 

And then it is cut off by Sakusa clenching his fists, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and walking big, angry steps forward, until he’s standing right in front of Atsumu.

Atsumu’s grip on his towel hurts. 

He stares at Sakusa who’s looking at him with the most intense grimace he’s ever seen in his life, as if he was in actual pain. 

Atsumu can relate. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” Sakusa says, voice so low it’s a whisper. He’s shaking. “I can’t.”

Big mood.

“You can’t what?”

“Atsumu.”

He sucks in a shocked breath. It’s the first time he’s ever called him by his actual name.

“Yeah?” Atsumu breathes out, “What is it, Omi?”

“I’m gay.” 

(100%.)

This time, it’s Sakusa who closes the distance. There’s nothing romantic about it. It isn’t gentle or slow. He grabs Atsumu by the back of his neck with one hand, uses the other to grip his waist, and presses their lips together. 

It’s so sudden that Atsumu almost yells and there’s too much teeth and it hurts and his lips might be bleeding a bit, but god, holy shit.

It’s rough and unpracticed and Atsumu can tell Sakusa hasn't had much practice before, so he raises his free hand to caress the side of his face, making him relax, ease out, until they’re just… kissing. 

Atsumu can’t help the smile that makes its way to his lips.

When he opens his mouth a little wider, Sakusa follows his lead, and Atsumu pokes his tongue out a little to see how the other would respond. 

He’s rewarded with a soft moan. 

Atsumu’s one hand is still holding onto his towel and he has two options. 

One, stop kissing this beautiful boy and tell him he has to fix his towel or else he’ll be standing buck naked. Or two, just… drop it. 

But then, dropping it would mean being naked and revealing his rock hard dick and he doesn’t know how far they were gonna take this, even if they’re literally almost completely naked. I mean, he kinda wants to but what if Sakusa didn’t-

“Atsumu.” Sakusa says a little angrily against his lips, “I’m literally leaving all my fucking thoughts out the door right now. All of them. You better not be stuck in your head right now.”

Oh.

“Right.” Atsumu says, pressing against him, running his hand through Sakusa’s hair, “Right. I won’t.”

Sakusa rests his hand on the small of Atsumu’s back, steps forward, leads them closer to the bed, until Atsumu’s head bumps into the top bunk. 

“Ow.”

Sakusa pulls away a little and Atsumu stares at the spit string between them and then at the boy in front of him and fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair’s a wet mess, his cheeks are beet red, his eyes are hooded. 

He watches Sakusa’s gaze go from his face, to his neck, to his chest, and then…

He feels Sakusa’s hands travel down to the sides of his hips and he squeezes. Atsumu reflexively bucks forward, and bites back a groan.

They both stare down at each other’s towels. 

Atsumu’s running solely on his last shred of self control. He takes a deep, calming breath. 

“Omi.” He says, trying to contain the desperation in his voice. “I only want this if you want this.”

Sakusa only fights with himself for a second. Somehow, the ugly voices that always pop up in his head during moments like these, are drowned out completely by the sound of their heavy breathing. 

With all the courage and horniness of a sixteen year old boy, Sakusa puts his hand over Atsumu’s clenched fist that held onto his towel. 

“Atsumu, I’ll be really fucking honest with you right now,” Sakusa starts, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything so badly in my life.”

And there goes Atsumu’s last shred of self-control. Out the window. Out of town. Taking a damn flight to Mexico.

He tosses his towel to the side, using his now free hand to run through Sakusa’s blessed curls, before clenching them in his fist, gripping onto his hair, and pulling.

The sound Sakusa makes almost makes him come right then and there.

“Jesus fuck, Omi,” Atsumu whines, ducking his head to press his lips against his neck, thrusting his hips forward, making it rub against Sakusa’s towel, “Touch me, god, please, please, put your hand on my dick.”

“Yeah.” Sakusa breathes out, tilting his head to give Atsumu more access, “Yeah, I’m getting to that, just… keep doing that with your mouth.”

“Mmmm,” Atsumu says, biting into his skin lightly while also making sure not to leave marks, “Get that towel off you.”

“Just so you know,” Sakusa says, hands reaching down to grasp at Atsumu’s ass cheeks. He squeezes them and Atsumu’s knees nearly fucking buckle. He lets out a soft fuck, omi, “I’ve never… done this before. Never touched anyone’s dick… apart from my own.”

“That’s fine, same,” Atsumu manages to answer, already slightly delirious, “Can we sit the fuck down? I’m… I’m losin’ it.”

Atsumu pulls them both down into the bottom bunk, ripping Sakusa’s towel off him in the process and it’s the first time they both actually get a good look at each other.

“Holy shit.”

“Motherfucker.”

“You’re big.” They say in complete unison. 

Sakusa’s eyes lock onto his cock making Atsumu squirm at the attention, but he pushes the embarrassment down and smiles.

“Guess I was onto somethin’ when I said we should get the feel of both, huh?” He asks against Sakusa’s mouth, “Usin’ just one of these would be wastin’ resources, Omi, don’t ya think?”

Sakusa manages a laugh. “Fuck you, you’re so full of—“

“You, hopefully, in a few minutes.” Atsumu retorts, pressing their lips together again, successfully shutting Sakusa up.

They navigate their way to a horizontal position, Sakusa looming over him and pressing their crotches together. He grinds forward and they groan in unison.

“Are these walls soundproof?” Sakusa asks hurriedly, suddenly worried about how much noise they were making.

“Dunno.” Atsumu answers, pushing Sakusa’s head down to his neck, “I’ll be quiet, I promise, just… touch me.”

“Okay. Well, first we— shit.” Sakusa swears heartily, pressing his forehead against Atsumu’s shoulder. “Shit, we can’t.”

“What?” Atsumu squeaks, his dick twitching. “But.. I mean, it’s fine if you don’t wanna, I’ll.. I can take another shower—“

“No, you idiot.” Sakusa grunts. “Do you have any condoms and lube in your luggage ‘cause I sure don’t.”

Ah.

“Shit.” Atsumu swears, throwing his head back onto his pillow. “Okay, so.. so we can’t have sex. No anal penetration. Whatever. Fine. But, we can do other stuff… right?”

Sakusa raises his eyebrows. “What are you proposing?”

“Anything.” Atsumu whines, jerking his hips forward suggestively, earning a hiss from Sakusa. “Fuck, anything , I’m fuckin’ dying here. Yer still hard, aren’t ya? How do you wanna come? With my hand? My mouth?”

“Fuck.” 

Sakusa’s swearing a lot tonight. He thinks he’s going to have the imaginary image of Atsumu’s mouth around his dick stored in his memory to bring out for future jerk-off sessions but tonight, because he has no experience, because he doesn’t wanna be one-upped by him, he reaches for Atsumu’s hand and pushes it between them, “Stroke me.”

“With pleasure.” Atsumu says, cheeky even with a hand wrapped around Sakusa’s dick. “Touch me, please. Touch me now.”

Sakusa rolls off of him, choosing to lay next to him. They adjust their positions, lying on their sides, facing each other. 

Sakusa breathes heavily as Atsumu’s hand picks up its pace as he reaches down to wrap his own around Atsumu’s.

“Fuck yes,” Atsumu gasps, involuntarily jerking forward, “Kiyoomi.”

 

Oh, hell.

 

The hand around his cock is tight and fast, exactly the way he likes it, and he doesn’t know why the fuck Atsumu seems to know that. He knows very well that if he doesn’t let up with this speed, he’s not gonna last very long. 

It’s the first time anyone other than himself was touching his dick. Sue him.

He chokes on a moan, squeezing his eyes shut, as Atsumu presses their foreheads together. 

“You look so fuckin’ good, holy shit.”

Sakusa almost wants to hit him for that but he opens his eyes and is met with what will probably be a visual that will stay in his core memory forever. 

Atsumu’s looking at him with an insatiable hunger, he’s sweating, mouth half open and drooling right onto the pillow, puffing hot breaths against Sakusa’s face. 

“Atsumu, god, ease up,” He groans, “If you keep going, I’m gonna—“

Sakusa knows his own hand is getting sloppy but Atsumu doesn’t seem to care as long as he’s getting touched.

“It’s okay.” Atsumu breathes out, “It’s okay. Just let me. Just let go.”

So, as if he’d flipped a switch in him, Sakusa does. 

He moans without restraint, pushing his hips forward, thrusting into Atsumu’s hand.

He lets go of his cock in favor of holding onto Atsumu’s forearm to ground himself as his vision starts to get spotty.

Atsumu keeps stroking, his other hand pulling on Sakusa’s hair as he nips at his collarbones. 

“Just like that,” He says, voice and eyebrows pinched, eyes squeezed closed, “Atsumu, just like that, don’t stop, I’m close—“

“This is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.” Atsumu says as if he’s in wonder, but obediently following directions.

“Shut up, god—“ Sakusa’s back arches, as he pushes Atsumu’s head to his neck, “Atsumu, please, I’m gonna fucking—“

Atsumu presses his lips against the shell of his ear. “Come for me.”

“Fuck.” He comes, muffling swear words into Atsumu’s hair, making a mess of both their stomachs and Atsumu’s fist. 

He keeps stroking as Sakusa rides out his orgasm as long as he can, until he starts flinching away from the touch.

Atsumu raises his sticky hand and stares at it. “Woah.”

Sakusa catches his breath, eyes closed, his grip on Atsumu’s hair loosening. 

“I can’t see what you’re looking at but I can take a guess and it’s disgusting so stop that.”

“Holy fuck, Omi,” Atsumu says, pressing a kiss against Sakusa’s temple, “Yer the most gorgeous fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Shut up.”

There’s a meaningful silence as Atsumu waits for him to come back to Earth. And then,

“Omi.”

“What?”

“I’m still really fuckin’ hard.” Atsumu says. “Can you sit up?”

Sakusa blinks his eyes open and stares down at Atsumu’s leaking dick. 

Right. Shit. If he didn’t just have the best orgasm of his life, he’d be fully hard again just looking at it.

He hesitantly sits up, groaning as he does, his entire body feeling like jelly. “How do you wanna do this?”

“Open yer legs a little.”

Oh. Sakusa likes where this is going. He opens his legs slightly, giving enough space for Atsumu to crawl between them. He sighs contentedly as the boy leans against him, the warmth of his back pressed against his chest, his head resting on his shoulder.

“Can you fold yer legs a bit? Get yer knees up.” 

Sakusa does what he’s told, pressing the bottom of his feet on the bed.

“Nice.” Atsumu says, raising both his legs and opening them as wide as the space allowed, using Sakusa’s legs to hold them in place, the back of his thighs pressed against Sakusa’s knees.

He reaches for Sakusa’s hand which had unknowingly made its way to Atsumu’s stomach and pulls it towards his cock. He looks up at him with hooded eyes and whispers, “Make me feel good, Omi.”

This looked like something out of Sakusa’s dirtiest fantasies. He lets out an unstable breath and nips at Atsumu’s earlobe as he starts stroking.

Atsumu’s eyes roll back, his head lolling to the side.

Tighter.” He gasps, after a few seconds.

“Your wish is my command.” Sakusa says in a low, playful voice, thinking, he’s rubbing off on me now, huh.

Atsumu moans, one hand coming up to hold onto the back of Sakusa’s neck. “Faster.”

Sakusa does what he’s asked and is rewarded with a high pitched keen. 

“Hey, Omi,” Atsumu pants, head thrown back against his shoulder. “D’ya mind if I finger myself while you jerk me off? I’ve been.. shit, close for a while now.”

Sakusa’s breath catches in his throat. “Fuck. Has anyone ever said no to that?”

Atsumu probably would’ve laughed at that if he wasn’t about to explode. “Okay. Ease up a little for now.” 

He hurriedly sticks two shaky fingers in his mouth, licking, sucking and making a show of it, pointedly looking at Sakusa with half-lidded eyes.

Sakusa groans, pressing his forehead against Atsumu. “Dear fucking God .”

Atsumu reaches down once his two digits are thoroughly soaked in spit, slowly sticking them in at the same time, and groans loudly.

Sakusa can’t help but wince. “Doesn’t it hurt?” 

Atsumu shakes his head. “I did it in the shower a while ago for a bit. Hurry and stroke my fuckin’ dick.” 

Oh, Sakusa is saving that image for later.

He strokes Atsumu’s cock in earnest, tight and fast, as he watches him fuck himself onto his fingers. The noises that spill out of his mouth are downright sinful.

Sakusa marvels at the sight and the feeling, Atsumu’s sweaty thighs wide open and pressed against his own, his hard leaking cock in his hand, his body nearly folded in half as he pumped his fingers in and out of himself.

Atsumu’s head is thrown back in bliss, drool dribbling down the side of his mouth, eyebrows pinched.

“Omi,” Atsumu says urgently, his grip on the back of Sakusa’s neck suddenly going up to his hair and pulling hard, “Omi, fer the love o’ god, faster , I’m so fuckin’ close—“

He starts fucking himself harder, face contorting into an expression that one can only really make when they’re about to come. Sakusa watches in wonder as he picks up the pace of his hand.

“Oh god,” Atsumu cries, back arching, hand in Sakusa’s hair going impossibly tight, “ Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me come so fucking hard—“

(Baby.)

The noise that leaves his mouth does not sound human. It’s like a mix of a high pitched moan and a strangled yell and if Sakusa were in his right fucking mind, he’d be worrying about whether the neighboring rooms could hear them because if they could, it sounded like someone was getting murdered.

But all he can focus on is the way Atsumu looks as ropes of come shoot out of him, painting his hand, his torso, his neck, as Atsumu writhed, toes curling in the air, moaned variations of fuck ’s and Omi, god, shit, don’t stop, tumbling out of his mouth.

It feels like a lifetime before Atsumu comes down from his high, his body sinking back against his own, dick going completely soft in Sakusa’s fist, and the fingers inside him slowing until they still to a complete stop.

It feels like both seconds and hours before Atsumu finally opens his eyes, breathes out a weak laugh and says, “Holy shit. I’ve never come so hard in my life. Yer wrists sure come in handy for stuff like that, huh?”

Sakusa will say later on that he couldn’t help himself, that anyone who would’ve seen him at that moment wouldn’t be able to help themselves, when he tilts Atsumu’s face up, and presses their lips together.

It’s a gentle kiss, nothing but a peck, but out of everything they’d done that night, that leaves them the most breathless.

Atsumu stares at him as he pulls away. 

He raises a hand, caresses Sakusa’s cheek, watches in awe as he leans into his touch.

“Tonight,” Atsumu says, voice a little hoarse from usage, “Is it alright if I ask you to sleep next to me?” 

Sakusa swallows. He nods.

“Let’s clean up first, though.”

As they lay in bed that night, Sakusa’s arm thrown over Atsumu’s waist, the boy’s face buried in his neck, a question lingers in the air.

Atsumu slithers an arm around Sakusa, pulling him closer. 

“Yer a different you tonight.” He whispers. “Are you gonna disappear in the morning?”

Sakusa’s hold on him tightens, but he doesn’t answer.

Atsumu’s voice sounds sad as he closes his eyes, says, “G’night and goodbye, my Omi-Omi.”



When Atsumu wakes up in the morning to an empty bed and a lack of duffel bags, he isn’t surprised. When the last thing he sees of Sakusa Kiyoomi is the back of his head as he walks out the glass doors, he isn’t surprised, either. 

He does the only thing he’s ever done at times like these. Once he’s safely sitting on a bench in the station, he calls Osamu.

He picks up after the first ring. 

“Ew.”

A long silence.

“Tsumu? Ya there?”

A sniff.

“Hey.” Osamu sounds concerned now, “Tsumu? Where the fuck are you? Should I pick you up? Are ya hurt?”

“Samu,” Atsumu’s voice breaks, “Can ya meet me at the station when I get there? I feel like fuckin’ garbage.”

“‘Course I can.” Osamu says and doesn’t ask, just assures. Atsumu loves him a lot at the moment. “I’ll be there.”

“Stay on the phone with me.”

“Okay.”

“Samu?”

“I’m here, ya scrub.”

“Okay.”

 

 

Sakusa and Komori are given a warm welcome home by his parents. They ask them about the people, ask them about their skills, ask them about their improvement.

They tell Sakusa they’re so proud of him. Their friends are so jealous of their only son. They’re sure girls will be fawning all over him. They’re sure a girl better than his ex will come along for him.

When he enters his bedroom, Komori follows behind him and shuts the door. When he knows he’s safe, in a place where only he and Komori can hear, he buries his face into his pillow and just screams for an immeasurable amount of time.

He screams for so long that it’s painful, with Komori’s hand gently rubbing his back, until he passes out.

When he goes back to school, he visits the girls volleyball club during practice and asks their libero out. She says yes and kisses him on the cheek. She introduces him to her team as his boyfriend, holding his hand the whole time. Komori gazes from across the court, looking concerned.

He goes home and scrubs his cheek so hard it turns red. He washes his hands so hard that they peel. He wears gloves to dinner. 

When his parents ask, he’ll say, it’s just the cold instead of it’s the cost I’m paying to be the good fucking son you want.



T MINUS 1 HOUR AND 43 MINUTES TO THE WEDDING

 

The breeze is cold but the sun rays keep them warm. It’s almost like the universe is blessing the outdoor wedding with perfect weather.

“See,” Suna says, motioning to the sky, “God loves the gays! What does the church think they’re even sayin’.”

Osamu snorts, tilting his head up, closing his eyes, and feeling the warmth against his face. “I think even Jesus had enough of seein’ those two suffer.”

“Waaaah, the weather’s so nice!” They hear a voice coming from behind them and they both turn around to see who it is.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

Komori walks towards them, struggling to flatten his hair, along with Kita, and the two voices in question, Bokuto and Hinata.

“What’re you guys doin’ here?” Osamu raises an eyebrow at them, “Aren’t ya supposed to be out front waitin’ for the wedding to start?”

“We got bored.” Hinata pouted, “And Kageyama and Yachi are taking forever to arrive.”

“Why is your boyfriend riding with Yachi instead of you?” Bokuto asks, not meaning anything by it, just genuinely confused.

“Hey!” Hinata exclaims, “It’s just because they live closer to each other! If I wasn’t living with you, it’d be me driving him here, okay!”

“S’till a mystery to me how the hell Sakusa and Yachi ended up being best friends.” Kita hums, sitting next to Suna. “Do you guys know how that happened?

Komori shrugs, chuckling lightly. “Gay solidarity, I suppose.”

“Sometimes,” Osamu sighs, leaning back, turning to look at Suna, “That’s all ya really need.”

Suna smiles. “Especially for him. I dunno everything but based on the shit Atsumu used to tell us, his Omi-kun was in a pretty shit situation.”

“He still kinda is.” Bokuto points out, taking out a meat bun from his pocket. “I mean… they’re not coming, are they?”

“Bokuto-san, why tha hell d’ya have a meat bun in yer pocket?” Osamu deadpans.

He’s not even rewarded with an answer. Honestly, Osamu’s not even sure if he wanted to know.

“I don’t think they are.” Komori says, his gaze somewhere far away. “But I think… Sakusa’s alright now. I think he’s gonna be alright.”

“Because he has Atsumu-san now!” Hinata cheers, “Now and for the rest of their lives! Right?”

“Hell yeah!” Bokuto exclaims, “Tsum-Tsum was the only one who ever made him not all… you know, Sakusa -ish. And now they’ll be together forever. Hell yeah!”

Everyone smiles fondly at the two. They were annoying a lot of the time, but everyone, whether they admitted it or not, had a soft spot just for them. 

“Maybe, we should act as Omi’s parents!” Bokuto says, as if it’s the best idea ever. “What if I walked him down the aisle.”

“He’d murder you.” Suna points out.

“No, he’d love it! Right, Komori-kun?”

“He’d murder you.” Komori repeats. “Besides… someone’s already in charge of walking him down the aisle.”

Kita raises his head. “You?”

Komori blinks. “He’d murder me.”




T MINUS 9 YEARS BEFORE THE WEDDING

 

The next time Sakusa and Atsumu have no choice but to look at each other face to face again, it’s an entire year after that fateful night in their shared dorm room. 

As usual, as it always is, Inarizaki and Itachiyama are up against each other for the throne of National Volleyball Champions. 

Not to say they never saw each other before then, though. Scattered throughout the year, they would see each other across courts and venues. They’d pass by each other near food stands or T-shirt stalls. They’d catch glances of each other during warm ups or when they’re standing with the rest of the players who qualified for Nationals during the opening. 

Stolen glances. That’s all they ever allowed themselves to have.

Sakusa almost expected for the entire world to know what he and Atsumu did that night, thought that maybe he’d go on some rampage, angry and vengeful, and would tell everyone what a dick he was.

Tell everyone that the #1 ace of high school volleyball was gay and that he’d treated Atsumu like a hit and run. 

If he’d done that, Sakusa probably wouldn’t have survived it. But he probably would’ve deserved it. He wouldn’t have held it against him. 

But he didn’t. He never did. Everytime their eyes met, he never even sensed any anger or resentment in Atsumu’s brown eyes. Sakusa knew that he wasn’t angry. Only hurt.

Sakusa never stopped feeling like shit for it. 

He thought, maybe in a different universe, maybe if he had different parents, they could’ve done more. They could’ve done something. Maybe, he and Atsumu could be giving each other good luck kisses or congratulations kisses or you did well no matter what kisses right now.

Maybe they could’ve been together. Maybe Sakusa wouldn’t have had to spend a whole year making out with another girl he just couldn’t love, no matter how hard he tried. 

Maybe. That’s all he has. A maybe.

He hadn’t slept with anyone since Atsumu happened. Not that his girlfriend never tried to initiate anything, though. He felt like shit about her, too. He’s yet to touch her without his gloves. She didn’t deserve any of this and he’s always known it. 

He just couldn’t bring himself to do it again. He couldn’t bring himself to do it with anyone else. 

He wonders if Atsumu has. And then, he feels a sting in his chest when he realizes he probably has. 

He pushes the thought away.

When they shake hands before the match starts, Atsumu doesn’t look at him. 

 

“Let’s play a good game!”

 

Atsumu serves first. That monstrous fucking serve.

He takes six steps back. A jump serve.

He tosses the ball in the air, runs forward, jumps, and aims it straight for Sakusa. 

Sakusa lunges forward in a hurry with arms outstretched, and the ball makes a loud noise as it hits his hands hard . It goes up.

That hurt, you asshole, he tries to communicate to the boy with his eyes.

Good, his expression seems to say back.

 

__



Itachiyama takes first, Inarizaki gets second, and Karasuno sits in third place.

After the awarding ceremony, the three teams take pictures, and then they all scatter to congratulate one another. There’s a good amount of crying.

For some of them, it was their last year ever playing.

This wasn’t even close to being the end of Atsumu’s volleyball career, though it was the end for his brother’s. 

He hasn’t really gotten over that. There are still days when the fact that his twin is quitting volleyball forever pops up in his head and it usually ends with him having to punch Osamu to get the anger out of his system. 

Osamu never says anything about it, at this point. He knows he’s just going through the stages of grief and right now he’s at Anger.

That anger is heightened at the moment, because it’s his last high school volleyball game, he gets second place instead of first, his first real heartbreak’s team wins first, and to top it all off, his goddamn twin is canoodling with his pretty middle blocker boyfriend somewhere, abandoning his own flesh and blood.

The nerve. 

Once he starts dating someone, he’ll make sure to make Osamu third wheel all the time. All the fucking time. He’ll make sure of that.

It’s in the middle of his angry inner monologue that he walks into the bathroom and runs straight into… Fuck.

“Well, this is just great.” Atsumu can’t help but say out loud, pushing past Sakusa and turning the tap on. “This is fuckin’ fantastic.”

He doesn’t need to look to know that Sakusa was squirming. “I’m sorry?”

“That apology’s long overdue.” Atsumu mumbles. “Congratulations, by the way.”

He hears Sakusa’s shoes squeak against the marble floor. “Thanks. Congratulations to you and your team too, Miya.”

It’s back to Miya now, huh. That’s funny.

Atsumu breathes a ghost of a laugh. “Fer what? We lost.”

“You were good.” Sakusa says, sounding sincere which made it worse somehow, “It wasn’t an easy win.”

“That doesn’t mean shit, does it, Omi?” Atsumu shoots back, turning the tap off, his hands clutching onto the edge of the sink. “Doesn’t matter if ya didn’t win.”

Sakusa’s silent at that. Atsumu’s glad. 

He didn’t wanna hear him encourage him with words that he didn’t actually mean. He and Sakusa didn’t get along about a lot of things. But their thoughts on volleyball was the one thing they could agree on. 

Being good means nothing if it doesn’t get you a win.

“You’ll keep playing, won’t you?” Sakusa asks, but it’s not a question, it’s a statement. “Then, just win next time.” 

Atsumu finally turns, finally looks him in the eye, and it bothers him a little more than he thought it would, the expression on Sakusa’s face. 

It looked a whole lot like guilt. It looked a whole fucking lot like pity.

They stare at each other for a few seconds, as if taking each other in. 

“Why’d ya do it?” Atsumu asks in a voice that’s more of an exhale. “I wanna know at least that.”

They both know what he’s talking about, even without him saying it out loud.

Sakusa gulps. His mouth feels dry. “I don’t know.”

Bullshit. 

Atsumu bites his tongue, his jaw tightening. “What the fuck d’ya mean you don’t know? People don’t do shit like that and then fuckin’ run away without knowing.”

“Sure, they do.” Sakusa presses, convincing Atsumu as much as he’s convincing himself, “People do shit like that all the time, don’t they?”

Atsumu feels horrified when he realizes there are tears prickling in the back of his eyes. 

“Was that all it was?” He asks, hoping Sakusa doesn’t hear the slight tremble in his voice, “Was it really? ‘Cause I don’t think it was.”

“It was.”

“Lie to me all you want.” Atsumu says, expression turning hard. “But ya shouldn’t lie to yerself like that.”

Sakusa grimaces, turning his gaze to the wall behind Atsumu. “I don’t want to do this right now. It’s been a year, Miya. I… I have a girlfriend.”

Atsumu almost laughs at that. He laughs because when he says the word ‘girlfriend’ he sounds like he’s being held at gunpoint. 

There’s a lot of fucking things Atsumu wants to say. A shit ton of things. He swallows them all down.

“Alright, Omi.” Atsumu says, closing his eyes, and swiping at them with the back of his hand. “I won’t tell you how to live yer damn life.”

His arm brushes against Sakusa’s as he walks past him. “But next time, leave me the fuck out of it.”

Before Atsumu can make it past the door, he hears Sakusa speak.

“It’s not that simple for everyone. It’s not… that easy for everyone.”

Atsumu’s hand tightens around the door frame. He fights the urge to yell. 

“Just so ya fuckin’ know,” He says between gritted teeth, “Yer the only one I’ve fuckin’ done that shit with. Because know what? It wasn’t just that for me. I don’t do shit like that if it doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Silence.

“So yeah,” Atsumu continues, not even trying to hide the anger in his voice anymore, “It’s not that fuckin’ easy for everyone. Have a good fuckin’ night, Omi. And have the best god damn celebration. Congratulations.”

Atsumu’s just about ready to tear the entire venue down looking for his brother, when he sees him sitting on a bench in the corner with Suna, protein bars in their hands.

When he approaches them, he’s angrily wiping his face. He’s glad that people can just assume he’s in this state because of their loss. It was half true, anyway.

Osamu knew better, though. 

“What the fuck happened?” He asks, grabbing onto Atsumu’s wrist and sitting him down.

“Where’re the others? Kita-san? Aran-kun?” He sniffs.

“With their families.” Osamu says, still looking concerned, “Ours are out buyin’ stupid t-shirts. What the fuck’s wrong with ya, Tsumu?”

“Ya look terrible, just so ya know.” Suna adds, leaning down to get a good look at Atsumu’s face.

Atsumu puts his legs up and folds himself into a fetal position, burying his face in his knees like a child throwing a tantrum. 

“I saw Omi in the bathroom.” He grumbles. “Wasn’t a fun conversation.”

The lovers share a look. Suna instantly sighs and stands up, making his way to sit on Atsumu’s other side. They both lay their hands on his back, patting him and playing with his hair. 

All Atsumu needed at times like this was attention. Like a ten year old kid.

“Ya never did tell me what the fuck happened last year.” Osamu points out. “I dunno how to help ya with this.”

Atsumu groans. “I can’t, I hate him, but it ain’t just my story to tell. Besides,” He sighs, “Yer the one who told me it’s a shit time to still be figurin’ yerself out, right?”

Osamu bites his lip. “Was he a dick?”

“Yeah.” Atsumu sighs. “Whatever. I’m mad but I’ll leave ‘im the fuck alone. I think he might have some issues he hasta work through.”

Suna and Osamu share a look again and they don’t know what exactly is going on, but somehow, they can make a good guess. 

Osamu’s gaze lands on a group a few feet away from them, namely the Itachiyama team, with some of their families. 

Sakusa’s standing with his parents and Komori. 

People talked about the kind of family Sakusa Kiyoomi belonged to. The kind of people his parents are.

It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Atsumu probably knew it too. It’s probably the only reason why he hadn’t punched him right in the nose in the bathroom.

“Y’know,” Suna starts, rubbing comforting circles on Atsumu’s back, “When someone’s raised to believe that who they are is wrong, they really start believin’ in it.”

Atsumu hums. 

“Don’t get hung up on this, Tsumu.” Osamu says, throwing an arm around his brother, squeezing lightly. “Don’t get hung up on him. I know yer stubborn as hell, but I think ya need to let this go and let him figure his shit out. I don’t want ya goin’ out there and makin’ shit complicated.”

Atsumu glares at him. “ I didn’t make shit complicated for him, he’s the one-”

“I don’t give a shit about Sakusa Kiyoomi, Tsumu, I meant fer you.” Osamu clarifies, “If I have to see ya like this over him again, I’m gonna punch ya in the face, hear me?”

Atsumu lets out a long breath. He nods.

“Good.” His brother says, letting go of him. “Focus on volleyball. How’re ya gonna go pro when yer still so shit at it?”

That earns him a punch to the jaw.

Suna brings out his phone and presses the record button.



A few feet away from them, Sakusa poses for pictures, holding up his medal with a gloved hand. His parents motion for him and his girlfriend to stand closer together. 

She stands on her tiptoes and leans towards him, her lips puckering up as if about to kiss him, but only hovering a few centimeters from his cheek. His parents smile fondly.

Komori looks like he’s the one in pain. 

It’s as they’re changing out of their jerseys that Komori turns to him, asks, “Are you sure about what you’re doing, Sakusa? I’m worried about you, you know. It’s been a year. You look… miserable.”

Sakusa clenches his jaw. 

Komori sighs heavily. “Do you actually like her?”

“She’s a good person.” He says, shoving his dirty clothes into a plastic bag, “She’s good for me.”

Komori zips up his jacket, staring at the back of Sakusa’s head sadly. “That’s not what I asked.”



A few weeks later, after their high school graduation, Sakusa breaks up with her. She cries and asks why. He flounders and ends up going with,

“I.. uh…” He pauses, shoving his hands in his pocket, “... cheated on you.”

She slaps him and walks away in tears.

He rubs his cheek that she’d kissed so many times before and feels nothing but numbness. 

He guesses he didn’t exactly lie. Emotional cheating was a thing, right?

This time, for some reason, he’s even less upset than the first time he was broken up with. He stands in front of his bathroom mirror, staring at the redness on his cheek, and all he can think about is Atsumu saying, I don’t do shit like that if it doesn’t mean anything to me.

When he tells his parents about his breakup #2, they’re devastated. They liked her a lot. They said she was a good girl. He pretends to be sad and tells them that they just couldn’t work it out, volleyball took up too much of his time, she couldn’t put up with it, and they were getting distant. 

But he’s not sad. He’s tired. 

He’s so tired. He wants to tell them that he’s dated two girls, kissed them more times than he could count, but couldn’t feel even a millimeter of what he’d felt with Atsumu that night. 

He tried. God knows he fucking tried. If there’s anything he did, it’s that. 

“It’s alright, sweetie,” His mom says, kissing the top of his head, “You’ll meet a lot of great girls in university. Everyone will have their eyes on my beautiful boy.”

Sakusa wonders, if he tells them the truth, will he lose this? Will he lose being their beautiful boy?

Was he okay with losing that?

 

T MINUS 8-4 YEARS BEFORE THE WEDDING

 

University wasn’t all that interesting or life changing for Sakusa Kiyoomi. People always told him back then that college would be where everything changed for you.

Not much did.

He was living alone for the first time. So, technically, he had a lot more freedom to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. 

He didn’t party, didn’t make too many friends though he did have a few acquaintances, and spent all his time either studying or training. All he needed to do was get his fucking degree and then he could go pro, like he’s always wanted. 

His first year went by uneventfully. 

He was busy, really busy, which was probably why his parents weren’t on his case about him not dating anyone or making any friends. Although.

It was a few months into the first semester of his sophomore year that he’d walked into the library and met eyes with a familiar face. 

“Oh.” They say at the same time, pointing at each other, like that spiderman meme. 

“Itachiyama ace!”

“Karasuno manager…”

Sakusa’s eyes drift to the girl’s backpack and the very bright rainbow pin on the front pouch, catching his attention. 

He stares up at her.

She tilts her head. 

“Wanna sit with me?” Sakusa asks before he can chicken out, motioning to a free table.

“Sure!” She smiles. “You’re… Sakusa-san, right? I’m Yachi! Yachi Hitoka!”

Sakusa never thought he’d be saying this, but his mom was right about one thing. When he got to university, he did meet great girls. 

Well, one (1) girl. Just the one.

Sakusa awkwardly returns her smile as they pull out their seats. “How’re the guys from Karasuno?”

She goes on a tangent after that. 

It’s strange, Sakusa thinks, as he listens to her talk. For some reason, he feels it in an instant.

The feeling that it was the beginning of something really important.

 

It’s half a year into the friendship that Sakusa gathers the nerve to ask Yachi about her sexuality.

She tells him she’s a lesbian as if she were just telling him what she had for lunch. 

She doesn’t ask him back, the way that Atsumu hadn’t, years ago, and he wonders if the fear is written all over his face.

She doesn’t ask, but he says it anyway. 

“I’m gay.” 

Yachi smiles and reaches out to squeeze his hand. They stay like that for a few seconds before she exhales, turns to him and asks, 

“So, that new episode of BNHA. Thoughts?”

Sakusa loves her very, very much at that moment. 

He then has flashbacks to last night, crying over Mirio smiling at Eri despite the fact that he’s bleeding all over. “And prayers.”

 

Sakusa Kiyoomi firmly believes that he wouldn’t have survived past college without the existence of Komori Motoya and Yachi Hitoka. 

Through them, he makes a few friends, he goes to a few parties, he makes out with a few boys, drunkenly. (He does not remember their names or their faces for the life of him, though.)

He lives. He lets himself live, just a little bit.

The night before his graduation, he sits in his couch with the two, Komori only half conscious and Yachi going on another one of her tangents about how her first love, Kiyoko (Karasuno’s manager before her, apparently), had ended up being straight. 

She finishes her woeful rant with a drunken sigh and turns to look at Sakusa with hooded eyes and pink cheeks. “What ‘bout you, Sakusa-kun?”

“Hmm?” Sakusa hums, lolling his head to the side to look at her, ignoring the way his brain seems to be turning into mush in his skull.

“Your first love!” Yachi exclaims, throwing her hands in the air, “You’ve never told me about him!”

Komori nearly wakes himself up with his own snore, but promptly falls back asleep.

Sakusa snorts. 

“First love…” He muses, staring at the ceiling, “I don’t think I have one.”

Yachi gapes at him. “What?”

“I mean,” Sakusa continues, licking his lips, “I’ve only ever… had feelings for one person.”

Yachi scoots closer to him, attentive as ever. “Who was it? A teammate?”

Sakusa knows how many wounds he’d be opening with this, but he does it anyway. Because he’s in a room, drunk, with no one but Komori and Yachi. 

He knows it’s safe.

“Miya Atsumu.” He says. “He isn’t a was, he’s a… he’s a still. He’s an… all the time.”

Yachi stays quiet. Komori stops snoring. Sakusa thinks he’s half awake, half listening.

“I don’t know if I’d call him a first love. Hell, I don’t even know if it’s like. But he’ll always mean something to me, I think.” Sakusa explains, running his fingers over the cold of his beer can. “He was my first… everything.”

“Everything?” Yachi whispers.

“Everything that mattered, anyway.” Sakusa clarifies, “And then, I ruined it. I hurt him. I hurt myself. It was… not great.”

Yachi turns to face the ceiling, head resting against the back of the couch, mirroring Sakusa’s position, “Why’d you ruin it?”

“Because I knew that if I didn’t pull away, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.” A lump starts forming in Sakusa’s throat. He pushes it down, forces his voice out, “And letting myself love him means my parents will stop loving me.”

He wills himself not to get emotional. Keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling.

Yachi lays her head on his shoulder and Sakusa lets himself rest his cheek on top of her head. 

“If they stop loving you because of that,” Yachi says gently, “I don’t think they truly loved you in the first place.”

Sakusa closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. “I know. That scares me even more.”

Komori shifts in his position and leans against Sakusa’s other side. Sakusa instantly shoves him off and he falls like a limp vegetable against the arm rest.

“Love ya, Sakusa Kiyoomi.” He mumbles drunkenly, “Forever ‘n always, my dude.”

Yachi giggles. “Ditto.”

Sakusa swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Disgusting.”

Yachi pats his knee comfortingly. 

“It sounds like he means a lot to you,” She says, closing her eyes, “You should tell him that.”

Sakusa chuckles sadly. “I don’t even know if I’m ever gonna get the chance.”

 

__

 

“So,” His new coach says, patting his shoulder, and motioning to the guys standing in front of him with one arm, “This is your new team. Welcome to the MSBY Jackals, Sakusa Kiyoomi!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto cheers, reaching out to give him a hug, before catching himself, and shrinking back. “Haven’t seen you in a minute, Sakusa-kun!”

“Sakusa-saaaaaan!” Hinata yells, pumping his fists in the air, “I’m glad you’re joining us! I’ve kinda been hoping you’d join us after college! We’ve been betting, you see-”

“Bokuto, Hinata, please,” Meian begs, giving Sakusa an apologetic look, pulling them back by the collars of their shirts, “Sorry about them, Sakusa-kun. I’m the captain, Meian.” 

Sakusa bows, trying his damn hardest not to let his gaze roam to a certain blonde who’s rooted in place, staring at him. Sakusa didn’t wanna know what expression he was wearing. 

“Oliver and Adriah aren’t here right now, so I’ll introduce them to you later but… well, this is Inunaki, our libero,”

Sakusa nods at him and Inunaki smiles at him, nodding back. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Sakusa manages.

“And I guess you already know these guys,” Meian says, motioning to the other three. “They say they all played you in high school. Said you were terrifying.”

Sakusa smiles at that. A genuine one. “I’ll take it as a compliment. They were all monsters too.”

“That, they are.” Meian nods. “I think you’ll fit right in.”

“I think the same.” The coach says, clapping Sakusa on the back harshly. 

“Sakusa-kun! Can you show us your bendy wrist thing aga-”

“Ooh, the one where he can fold it until his fingers touch his ar-”

Sakusa finally lets himself look at the man standing at the farthest end of the room. 

Miya Atsumu looked… sacred

If he looked good back then, Sakusa didn’t even know where to begin with the way he looked now. His formerly straight, mustard colored hair has now faded into a light, golden shade, falling in slightly curled waves. He kept the undercut.

And both his arms and legs are… sinful, as always.

“Omi.” Atsumu calls out, sounding exactly the way he did five years ago. “Long time no see?”

When Atsumu smiles it holds no anger or pain, not the way it did the last time he’d heard that nickname. He says his name as if their last conversation had never happened. 

Sakusa’s glad. He looked better. 

But a part of him, a small part, feels a slight sting at the thought that maybe that night six years ago didn’t mean as much to Atsumu as it did to him.

“Long time, Miya.” Sakusa says, expression softening against his will. 

The air around Miya Atsumu feels different. Where he used to be jagged and uneven, he was now sharper and smoother. When he used to seem arrogant and stand-offish, it’s toned down into an aura of confidence and ease.

Miya Atsumu had changed over the last five years. They’re twenty two now and it shows.

But Sakusa looks at him and still feels the exact same way he did when he was fifteen. 

It’s still there. It’s still the same. 

No, it’s stronger

And he wants to kiss him again. God , does he want to. He wants to close the space between them and kiss him, right now, this instant, in front of everyone. He thinks, maybe he can do it now. He’s done it before with a few boys, drunk, at a party.

But he knows he can’t. He knows this is different. 

Atsumu smiles, reaching forward to pat him on the shoulder. “I guess I kinda missed ya, Omi-Omi. Welcome to the team.”

When Atsumu squeezes his shoulder, Sakusa looks him in the eye, and that’s when he sees it. 

A hint of affection, the same expression he’d seen in his eyes when they shared heat and warmth in their shared bunk bed six years ago, the same expression he’d never been able to make himself forget.

And he knows at that moment, that for some reason, that night still meant something to him too. 

With Atsumu, it’ll always be different. 

If Sakusa kisses him, he’ll probably fall in love with him. He’ll probably fall instantly.

He probably already has. He never stood a fucking chance.

 

__

 

Sakusa Kiyoomi

I’m sending this message to the both of you at the same time to save my breath.

Komori, Yachi. Mother of all that is good and holy. Fucking save me. 

God, if you’re real, take me. I am your child. 

It’s only been three months. I thought being his teammate would be bearable, which, it would’ve been if we were just teammates. But, no. Oh no, we had to be roommates. Again. Fucking. Again. You know what happened the last time we were roommates? We slept together.

Well, we jerked each other off but same difference. And that was the product of us being roommates for a measly four nights and five days. It only took 4 nights and the view of him in a towel for me to crack. Now, I’ve been seeing him in a towel near daily and we’re spending almost every waking hour together. Last night, we watched Attack on Titan and he fell asleep on my shoulder. He drooled all over it and I didn’t even think it was gross. Think about that.

Last week, he made me blow dry his hair for him and it was so fucking soft. How does he keep it that soft when he dyes it all the time? Now, I’m pissed, turned on, and curious about what hair product he uses.

I think I’m gonna die. And I know you’re probably gonna say, just sleep with him, just kiss him and be done with it, it’ll be fine, it’s not like your parents still live with you. And maybe you’re right. It’s not like I haven’t done it with other people. 

But I can’t just kiss him and be done with it, because if I kiss him, I’m done. That’s it. I’ll take one step and I won’t be able to make myself go back. I’m set for life. You get me? 

And I know you’re gonna tell me I can’t live like this my whole life, but I don’t know what other choice I have. Be myself and lose my fucking family? I can’t do that. You guys know I can’t do that. They’re assholes a lot, and I hate them sometimes, especially for this, but they’re still my parents and I love them.

Do you think the blow of me being gay will be lessened if I tell them the one I’m in love with also happens to be a star volleyball player? Fuck. 

He’s been walking around shirtless more often. That irritating smirk he used to use to get to me back in high school is back in full force. It’s worse now than it was then, if you can believe it. I think he knows what he’s doing. I feel myself starting to crack and I think he can tell. Does he think things will be different this time? Actually, now that I think about it, will they be?

That’s up to me, isn’t it? I wanna die.

Fuck this shit.

 

Komori Motoya

RIP Sakusa Kiyoomi

COD: Idiocy Brought By Homophobic Boomers 😔✊🏻 

you’ll be fine. im not gonna tell you things you already know.

 

Yachi Hitoka

Be brave, Sakusa Kiyoomi! It’s your life! Why live it any other way than how you want to?

This is the chance you didn’t think you were ever gonna get!!! Don’t be an idiot!!! Take it! !!!!! And no matter what, we’ll be right here. Always right here! 😙



__

 

The breaking point comes in the form of locker room talk.

“What the fuck, Shoyo?” Atsumu exclaims, pulling his socks off, “Since when were you ‘n Tobio an item?”

“Uh,” He starts, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “It’s… a recent development. But, we’ve sort of been dancing around each other for years, so…”

“That’s adorable.” Inunaki sniffs. “I can’t believe you guys are growing up so fast.”

Sakusa blinks. Hinata’s gay, huh? Wow. The more you fucking know.

“Let me tell ya, Hinata!” Bokuto announces, throwing his sweaty jersey over his shoulder, “I feel you ‘cause Keiji and I were flirting forever, like, four whole years before he agreed to be my boyfriend! Can you believe that? He wouldn’t believe I actually liked him!”

Sakusa tries not to look like his eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. Holy shit. He joined the gayest volleyball team there is. He didn’t even have to try. Maybe gay people are magnets.

“It’s so annoying!” Hinata nods enthusiastically, “I confessed to Kageyama after our first Nationals, but he wouldn’t take me seriously! He was like, no, you’re delirious, you have a fever,” Hinata imitates in a scarily accurate way, pressing his hair down into a bowl cut in perfect Kageyama fashion, “and I was like, yes, I have a fever but I’m also in love! Those two things are separate!”

Atsumu sighs longingly, resting his chin on his hand. “Must be nice…”

Oliver zips his bag closed, the only one so far who looks freshened up and ready to go. “Oh, not this again. Don’t do it. Don’t get in your head about being the only single one here. Self pity is not a good look on you.”

Atsumu pouts. “It’s not self-pity. Can’t a guy be lonely without bein’ trash talked? Sheesh.”

“Hey, Sakusa-san!” Hinata yells, making Sakusa jump slightly at suddenly being included into the conversation, “I realized we’ve never asked you! Are you seeing anyone?”

Sakusa nearly chokes on his spit. 

To cover up his embarrassment, he combs his fingers through his hair, pushing his curls back, and he sees Atsumu’s loaded stare from the corner of his eye. 

He hates it, but it’s nice to know he’s not the only one who’s still affected.

“No.” He answers, shrugging his shoulders. “Hasn’t really been a priority.”

“There you go, Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto says, cheerily, “You’re not the only single one in the team!”

Atsumu just stares at him, eyes narrowing as Sakusa stares back. “Guess not.”

It lasts a few seconds before Sakusa turns away, fishing for his sports drink. 

“It can’t be all that miserable,” Meian says, coming out of the showers with a towel around his waist, “You’ve had the most interesting sex life, haven’t you? You at least have that hanging over our heads.”

Sakusa chokes on his Gatorade. 

Atsumu smiles, looking thoroughly entertained. Sakusa wants to kiss the stupid smirk off his face.

“Jealous, Omi-kun?” He teases.

“I’ll kick your fucking ass, Miya.”

“My favorite story is the one where he was getting his ass eaten and someone walked in.” Hinata shares, making half the team laugh, and the other half groan.

Sakusa would literally rather be anywhere but here.

Atsumu’s face scrunches up. “Good to know you like that one, ‘cause that was terrible for me.”

Sakusa stands abruptly, making the rest quiet down, staring at him curiously. 

Atsumu’s knowing expression is infuriating.

He realizes he should say something.

“I’m gonna go shower.” He announces, before swiftly turning away. 

When he’s in the safety of one of the shower stalls with water cascading over his back, it’s only then that he lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. 

Ass eating. Jesus Christ.

A few minutes later, in the middle of his mental breakdown, he hears the rest of his teammates leave the locker room, followed by footsteps making their way to where he was. 

He hears the shower door right next to his open and then close, and listens as the shower turns on, followed by Atsumu’s voice, humming a song he doesn’t recognize.

Sakusa thinks about how Atsumu likes having his ass eaten. 

He also thinks about how he’s completely naked right now in the stall right next to him.

And then he thinks about how he was greeted this morning with the view of Atsumu in nothing but boxers, in all his bed-headed glory, with a “G’mornin’, Omi. Make me coffee?”

His soapy hand drifts down to his chest, ghosting over his nipples, down his stomach, until they’re hovering over the hair covering his crotch.

He thinks about Atsumu from six years ago, hand wrapped around his cock, he thinks about the Atsumu right next to him, he thinks about what it would be like to just…

He wraps his hand around his cock decidedly, stroking slowly at first, fist loose, leaning his forehead against the wall, biting his bottom lip to keep his noises in.

As Atsumu continues to hum, he strokes faster, tightening his hand around himself, using his free hand to grip onto the grab bar to ground himself.

He doesn’t realize it when his breathing turns into soft, barely-there-but-there groans. So, he doesn’t hear it when the shower stall next to him goes silent.

He keeps stroking, breaths quickening, when he’s interrupted with an, “Omi? What the fuck’re ya doin’ in there?”

Sakusa freezes, hand tightening painfully around his cock. 

Because he realizes the voice isn’t coming from the stall next to him. It’s coming from right outside his door.

He’s fucking mortified but somehow, that turns him on even more. He’s fucked. He squeezes his eyes closed.

“Nothing.”

It sounds like bullshit even to him.

There’s a pause. He sees the bare feet under the door shuffling closer. 

“Sure didn’t sound like nothin’.”

Sakusa wanted to die. There’s no getting out of this. 

“You know what I was doing.” Sakusa decides to say, voice low and urgent, “Now can you go away so I can… I don’t fucking know, finish off here-”

“Can I help?”

Fuck. FUCK.

Sakusa gulps. 

He holds on tightly to his last shred of dignity and self-control as he takes a deep steadying breath. 

“Are you sure?”

Atsumu scoffs. “Are you?”

Sakusa nearly cries, one hand already reaching out for the lock. 

“Fuck, Atsumu,” He groans, “Why do you still get me going after all these years?”

“Open the fuckin’ door, Omi, or I’m breakin’ it down.”

Sakusa rips the door open and drags Atsumu in by the arm, instantly latching onto his lips.

Atsumu moans loudly, throwing his arms around his neck, as Sakusa reaches behind him to lock the door again.

As they press their bodies closer together, their cocks rub against each other, and Sakusa growls at the way that Atsumu’s already fully hard.

“Were you getting hard listening to me?” He asks against Atsumu’s mouth.

“Shut up.” He hisses, grabbing onto Sakusa’s hair, “Kiss me.”

They fit together like they were never apart. It feels almost like they’re picking up right where they left off, hands all over each other, as if trying to touch everything they’d missed last time, all their movements more confident and sure compared to the first time. More desperate, too.

“Fuck,” Atsumu breathes out, “Fuck, Omi, kiss my neck, mark me up, all over-”

“Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom~” They hear from a close distance, the off pitch singing accompanied by skipping sounds and what sounded like Bokuto doing the ad libs that consisted of, “Hey, hey, heeeey, bathroom, oh yeaaaah~”

Atsumu’s hands freeze up, gripping onto Sakusa’s waist so tightly it hurts, letting out a soft whine. He should cut his damn nails.

Sakusa raises a finger to his lips, silently telling Atsumu to shut the fuck up.

They stay quiet as they hear the sounds of pissing, a locker opening and closing, and the tap running.

“Sakusa-san? Atsumu-san?” Hinata calls out, “You guys not done yet? Everyone’s ready!”

“Uh… m’almost done, Shoyo-kun!” Atsumu yells, sounding so casual it’s almost impressive.

“Me too.” Sakusa adds, hoping he sounds just as convincing.

“Alright!”

As the footsteps fade and then disappear, the two finally breathe again, sagging against the wall.

“You okay?” Atsumu asks, pushing Sakusa’s hair back.

“I’ll kill them.” He grunts.

Atsumu giggles at that, fucking giggles, and that makes Sakusa actually look at him and…

Oh no.

He hurriedly grips onto Atsumu’s shoulders, lightly pushing him away, trying to gather his thoughts. 

The change in Atsumu’s expression is almost instant. He goes from giggly to exasperated in the span of half a second.

As Sakusa turns the shower off and is about to reach for the lock, Atsumu takes hold of his wrist, using his other hand to push him against the wall.

“No.”

“Wha-” Sakusa sputters, trying to break free, “What the fuck do you mean no, I was just gonna--”

“No, yer gonna run away from me.” Atsumu presses, “ Again. Ya can’t do that, Omi. We live together. We work together. Ya can’t pull this shit again. We aren’t teenagers anymore.”

Sakusa bites his tongue and tastes blood. He wasn’t gonna run. 

Shit, that doesn’t sound convincing even in his head.

Atsumu stares at him for a long time, searching his expression, and Sakusa has no choice but to face him head on, let him look at him. 

Atsumu deserved at least that much. 

“What?” Sakusa asks, voice reduced to a weak whisper.

Atsumu’s face softens. 

“Why’re you so scared of this?” He asks, sounding close to desperate. “Can’t you tell me now?”

The expression on Atsumu’s face at that moment is so raw that it hurts. 

Sakusa finds himself having to hold onto Atsumu’s arms to keep himself up, literally and metaphorically. He takes a deep breath. 

 

In and out. Inhale, exhale. It’s gonna be fine.

 

He presses his forehead against Atsumu’s, watches as his eyelids flutter close.

“Sometimes,” He admits, “I want you so badly that for a second, I think… I’d be willing to give them up. I’d be willing to give it all up, if I get to have this just a little longer.”

Atsumu thinks, give them up? Atsumu thinks, looks back, and remembers hearing all the rumors about his family, hearing about how Sakusa Kiyoomi was a rich kid who studied in a fucking Catholic school. 

Atsumu realizes, ah. Them.

“But I can’t.” He says and his voice is trembling.

Atsumu realizes then and there, how much he wants this. And at the same time, realizes then and there, that he can’t have it.

Not like this.

Atsumu sighs. “How ‘bout this, Omi?”

Sakusa looks up at him and he looks so unintentionally vulnerable, it hurts.

“I don’t want you to do things that’ll make ya wanna run away.” Atsumu says, “And I don’t wanna get hurt anymore. I know ya don’t mean to, but it hurts anyway.”

Sakusa at least has the decency to look guilty.

“This is something that I can’t really help with, right?” Atsumu continues, steadying his breath, “So… no more of this, no more… any of this. At least not until ya figure yer shit out and decide on how ya wanna live yer life. How ‘bout we just do this the normal way, be friends, be roommates, take it slow, ‘n see where that takes us. Is that alright?”

Sakusa blinks at him. 

“Yeah… yeah, sure, but,” He licks his lips, “I think this conversation would be more productive if we weren’t having it naked.”

Atsumu looks down. “Right.”

“But,” Sakusa continues, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for everything. And, I’m grateful you’re being… you know… you.

Atsumu’s face contorts into an expression of pain. “God, ya gotta stop talkin’ to me like that, yer gonna kill me.”

Sakusa raises his eyebrows.

Atsumu takes a deep breath. Inhales, exhales. 

“Alright. Friends, Omi-Omi?” He asks, reaching a hand out, initiating a… handshake.

Sakusa wants to laugh. They’re fucking naked here. 

He grabs the hand, shaking it firmly. “Friends. Sure.”

Friends. 

That sounds… good for him. Good for the both of them, actually. Then, he could have both Atsumu and his family. That’s perfect. Friends. They can totally be just friends. 

 

__

 

Narrator, two months later: They totally could not be just friends.



JACKALS MINUS SAKUATSU GC

 

Hinata Shoyo

[sent a photo]

They fell asleep like this. Look at how cozy they look :(

Sakusa-san’s cheekies :( against Atsumu-san’s shoulder :(

 

Bokuto Koutarou

IM CRYING.

LAST WEEK I WENT TO THEIR APARTMENT AND OMI KUN WAS COOKING LUNCH 4 TSUM TSUM. HE HAD AN APRON ON AND EVERYTHING!!!!! IT WAS PINK!!!!

 

Shugo Meian

Atsumu bought him that apron. The one with the cats?

He also bought Sakusa a bunch of colored clips. The ones he uses for training

 

Shion Inunaki

[sent a video]

From when we got drunk last weekend and Atsumu started cuddling up to Sakusa and he looked constipated

 

Bokuto Koutarou

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA LMAO!!!!!!

I’M BETTING MONEY ON… 1 MORE MONTH!

 

Hinata Shoyo

I bet two!!!!

 

Oliver Barnes

This is so immature and inappropriate.

I bet four. They’re both emotionally stunted.

And brats.

 

Adriah Thomas

^ seconded

 

Shugo Meian

I refuse to participate in this madness.

But I will say, when Atsumu was drunk he cried a little to me about how Sakusa’s hair and forehead moles were ruining his life. The man looked like he was going to break.

So, like… One month.

 

Shion Inunaki

I bet on never.

What makes any of you think they’re ever gonna get it together?

Have you met them?

 

Hinata Shoyo

SHIT…. HES RIGHT

 

__

 

Hinata spikes the ball and it flies past Suna’s hands, hitting the ground with a loud noise as it bounces off, the ball going so high it almost hits the stands.

The whistle blows. The referee motions to them with his arm. 

The MSBY Jackals win against EJP Raijin.

“In yer fuckin’ face, Sunarin!” Atsumu yells at the top of his lungs, throwing his fists in the air. “Bow down to tha superior Miya Twin!”

He glances at the audience and sees Osamu with his arms crossed in front of his chest, somehow managing to look both annoyed and proud.

“I’ll get ya next time.” Suna promises, as both teams line up and shake each other’s hands under the net.

“You’ve got a long way to go before you catch up to me, Komori.” Sakusa says, reaching out to shake his cousin’s hand.

“Oh, shove it.” Komori laughs, the smile on his face betraying his words.

 

Later, they find themselves surrounded by different groups of different people. Oliver’s wife and kids, Adriah’s fiance, Hinata’s mom, little sister, and of course, Kageyama Tobio with a bouquet of roses. There’s Bokuto with his friends and boyfriend. Atsumu, Osamu, their parents, Suna Rintarou and his grandmother, some Inarizaki alumni were there too. 

The camera flashes start to get blinding.

Sakusa turns around and sees his own parents making their way towards him.

“My beautiful boy!” His mother coos, holding Sakusa’s face in her hands. “You were amazing!”

His dad pats him on the back and ruffles his hair. “I’m proud of you, Kiyoomi. You’ve been doing amazing things.”

Sakusa smiles. Despite everything, he still liked hearing their praise. 

Komori slides up next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders, bringing Yachi along with him. “Good game!”

“You two were great!” Yachi exclaims.

“Thanks, Yach.” Sakusa says, patting her hair down, fighting the urge to hug her like he usually would, lest his parents start thinking there was something between them. That’d be an awkward conversation. “Glad you came.” 

Komori’s parents and his own bring out their phones, motioning for the three of them to stand together so they can take more pictures than Sakusa thinks is necessary.

There's a lot of smiling and camera flashes and praise, until the moment is broken with a change in expression in his father’s face. 

He leans down and whispers something to his mother.

Sakusa turns around to see whatever they’re looking at and he finds that it’s the Miya family taking selfies together. 

Osamu’s arm was wrapped around Suna’s shoulders and Suna’s arms were wrapped around his waist, as Osamu pressed a wet kiss to his cheek. Atsumu pretends to look grossed out (“Can’t ya guys keep it in yer pants for a fuckin’ second?” “Atsumu! Language!”), and their parents smile brightly at the camera.

“Isn’t that your roommate, Kiyoomi?” His dad asks, subtly motioning to them. 

Komori turns, sees what he’s referring to, and his grip on Sakusa’s shoulder tightens. A silent comfort.

Yachi has a steadying hand on his back.

“Yeah.” Sakusa chokes out.

“His twin is…” His mom hesitates, making a face that looked weary, “Is Atsumu also...?”

Yeah, he is. Your son is the same, too. Are you gonna look at me like that too if you knew?

“I don’t know, mom.” Sakusa chooses to say instead, turning away from the Miya family, apologizing to them in his head. “We don’t… talk about that. We’re just-”

“Sakusa-san!” Hinata yells from a few feet away, wrapped in a Kageyama Tobio back hug, “We’re partying at our apartment later! You coming?”

He nods.

“I’ve gotta go.” He says to his parents, giving them both quick one-armed hugs, then squeezing Komori’s shoulder and patting Yachi’s head. “I’ll see you guys.”

His mom opens her mouth, as if to say something more, eyeing the rest of his teammates. At the way Osamu and Suna are wrapped around each other, at the press of Kageyama’s lips against Hinata’s temple, at the way Bokuto lifts Akaashi in his arms and spins him around.

He doesn’t want to see the disgust in his parents’ faces looking at everything Sakusa had ever wanted for himself and could never get.

 

In and out. Inhale, exhale. It’ll be fine. 

 

At that moment, Atsumu turns to look at him and flashes him a smile. Not a playful one, not a cocky one, but the special one he saves just for him. 

Wow , you know what. This was not fine. He was not fine.

Bokuto and Hinata had better have some fucking whiskey at their place or else he was leaving.

 

__

 

The perks of living in an apartment complex with his teammates was that none of them had to worry about getting too drunk at after parties and not being able to make it home, because home was always just one elevator ride away.

The cons of living in an apartment complex with his teammates was living in a fucking apartment complex with his teammates. 

They’re tolerable at this point, hell, Sakusa even likes them sometimes. And maybe if he were drunk enough, he wouldn’t be feeling so murderous over hearing Bokuto belt What’s New Pussycat for the fourth time in a row. 

The first two times for fun, the next two times for serenading those two Nekoma guys, Kenma and Kuroo apparently, through a video call.

(Bless them. They at least pretended to be amused. At least that Kenma guy did. Kuroo was downright having the time of his life.) 

Kageyama and Akaashi seemed to be the only ones in the room who were still in their right minds, but only because they’re on babysitting duty for the sake of their respective boyfriends.

Hinata had thrown up twice in the past hour and a half, and Kageyama looked one more bathroom trip away from cutting him off for the rest of the night.

Bokuto is…. Bokuto. Sakusa can’t even be sure if he’s actually drunk or just being him. Inunaki is passed out on a beanbag chair. Meian had left thirty minutes ago, claiming he was getting way too old for this. Oliver and Adriah are fucking married with kids, so they’re definitely above this.

Sakusa’s drunk too, not as drunk as he wished he was, but drunk all the same. At least, enough for him to be playing with Atsumu’s hand resting on his lap.

“Omi,” He slurs, droopy eyes gazing up at him, “D’ya think the new hand cream Tobio recommended is working? I can’t tell if my hands are gettin’ softer or not.”

Sakusa runs his fingers over Atsumu’s palm, feeling each of his fingers one by one. Atsumu stretches out his hand and Sakusa does the same, sliding their palms against each other.

“They’re calloused as fuck.” Sakusa answers. “Beyond redemption.”

A dumb smile materializes on Atsumu’s face because Sakusa curls his fingers into the spaces between his anyway, and Atsumu does the same, interlacing them together.

“So are yours.” Atsumu shoots back. He runs a thumb back and forth over Sakusa’s skin.

Their joint hands rest on Sakusa’s thigh, gloves forgotten on the table in front of them. Atsumu sighs contentedly.

Unbeknownst to them, the room goes a little quieter, everyone’s attention at least half on them. Bokuto tries to film them inconspicuously. 

“Y’know, I’m kinda honored.” Atsumu chuckles, turning his head slightly, so his cheek touches Sakusa’s shoulder. “You hate being touched by everyone else, but ya never mind when it’s me.”

Sakusa grunts, his fingers tightening around his hand.

“Why’s that?”

Sakusa looks at him, his cheeks slightly red from the alcohol. And he smiles a smile that doesn’t really reach his eyes. It looks sad, almost. 

Atsumu’s chest tightens. Why?

“I don’t know, Miya.” Sakusa says it like it pains him, like he wishes he had a different answer, “If I knew, maybe I’d know how to make it stop.”

Atsumu swallows, unable to look away, the noise of the apartment being drowned out by the sound of his heartbeat. “What does that mean?”

Sakusa was starting to understand how alcohol can ruin entire lives. 

He breathes out a weak laugh, looks away before he can think of doing something stupid. 

“Let’s not.” He says with a tone of finality, closing his eyes. “Friends, right?”

Atsumu bites his bottom lip. “We’re holding hands, though.”

Sakusa hums, showing no intention of letting up on his grip.

“You’ve been weird.” He points out, leaning forward to properly rest his cheek on Sakusa’s shoulder, staring curiously. “You’ve been weirdly broody fer someone who just won a game.”

Sakusa hums again, his eyes still closed, head tilted back against the back of the couch. Atsumu stares at the two moles above his eyebrow.

God, the lighting here made him look holy.

“Did something happen?” He asks, making sure his voice is low enough for only Sakusa to hear. Not that the others would hear, anyway. 

Bokuto and Hinata are doing their rendition of Livin’ La Vida Loca. It’s strangely impressive.

It feels like forever before he blinks his eyes open, although in reality it’s probably mere seconds.  

Sakusa’s gaze is stubbornly trained on the ceiling when he speaks. “Atsumu?”

Atsumu’s heart skips a beat. 

The only times he’d ever called him by his given name was whenever they were… 

“Yeah?”

“I wanna go home.” He declares and he sounds so tired

Atsumu doesn’t know how to explain it, doesn’t understand where it’s coming from, exactly. But it scares him. 

“You can go.” Atsumu assures him, squeezing his hand. “They’ll be fine with it. I’ll make up some excuse for ya.”

Sakusa turns his head, finally properly meeting his gaze. “I meant with you.”

Atsumu feels a tiny explosion go off in the pits of his stomach. 

Welp. There goes half his common sense.

He has to hold on really fucking tightly to the remaining half now.

“Omi,” He starts, in an almost scolding tone, “We’ve had a few drinks, if you wanna… do something like that, I don’t think we should be making that decision while we’re—“

“I don’t fucking mean it like that.” Sakusa groans, sounding exasperated, “Just… can we please just go home?”

It takes a minute for the hidden meaning in his words to sink in but when they do, Atsumu softens. 

This wasn’t just another momentary lapse in judgement born out of horniness and loneliness. 

Sakusa was simply asking for his company. 

“Okay, Omi-Omi.” Atsumu whispers, pressing a barely there kiss to his shoulder, feeling the need to comfort him for some reason. “Okay.”

 

They find themselves in their living room, sprawled across the couch, each of them holding onto a bottle of beer. Atsumu has his legs resting on top of Sakusa’s lap, laying his head on the arm rest. Sakusa focuses on chugging his beer, his free arm resting on top of Atsumu’s legs, running his hand up and down his leg hair. 

It’s weirdly intimate.

Atsumu finds it suspicious that none of their teammates had even tried to make them stay when he’d told them they were leaving. If anything, they were practically pushing them out the door. He’ll have to interrogate them tomorrow. 

But for now...

They’d been here, sitting in this exact position, drinking their beers in total silence for at least twenty minutes now. 

It’s not an uncomfortable silence. After being roommates for several months, their silences are at a point where they’re always comfortable, so that’s not the problem. 

It’s that Atsumu doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be doing here. Was he supposed to be comforting him? Giving him advice? Speaking words of wisdom… let it be dot mp3? 

“This is nice ‘n all,” Atsumu starts, wiggling his toes, “But I’m kinda dyin’ of curiosity here, Omi. So before I fall asleep with ya touchin’ my legs like that, I gotta ask… Are you alright?”

Atsumu notices that Sakusa looks properly drunk now. The man can barely open his eyes. And yet, he still looked gorgeous. That’s how you know you’re fucked.

“Not really.”

Atsumu’s shocked by the honesty. He always expected Sakusa to be the type of guy who had his shit together even when he was wasted. 

“Why not?” He asks, lowering his beer bottle, the bottom of it pressing against his stomach, the cold seeping into his skin.

Sakusa seems to mull it over, one hand clutching his beer so tightly that Atsumu sees the tips of his fingers turn white, his other hand tracing patterns on his leg. 

“A part of me,” Sakusa begins, blinking blearily, his words slightly slurred, “A part of me really wants to just… talk about it. You know? I wanna get it out there, so it doesn’t feel like this weight inside me.”

Atsumu nods, silently encouraging him.

“But the other part of me,” He continues, the fingers against his skin pausing in their ministrations, “doesn’t want to say it out loud, because then it’ll feel too real… and too much.”

Atsumu thinks about it, the way he’s been thinking about it all these years, if he’s being honest. He thinks about how exactly he can help this person who doesn’t know how to help himself or how to let others help him.

He hates to even think about it, but at times like these, he turns to Solution: WWSD. 

 

What Would Samu Do?

 

He pictures his brother’s face, searches his memories of past conversations in times of trial and what his brother would always tell him whenever he… Oh.  

He has it. 

“Omi,” Atsumu says, sitting up so abruptly that Sakusa jumps a little, “I have an idea.”

“No.” Sakusa grumbles, “You never have any good ideas.”

“Well, technically, it would be Samu’s idea but-”

“Oh, then okay. What idea?”

“Wow.” Atsumu huffs, looking genuinely betrayed. “Okay, rude?”

“What’s the idea?” Sakusa presses, head lolling to the side, tiredly. It’s stupidly adorable.

“How ‘bout you tell me all about it in third person? In story form?” Atsumu asks, reaching out to set his beer bottle down on the coffee table. “When Samu and I were kids and we needed to tell each other somethin’ that felt too embarrassing or lame, we’d go like, so I know this guy…”

Sakusa snorts. “That’s stupid.”

“It is.” Atsumu agrees. “But it works better than ya’d think.”

When Sakusa still looks hesitant, Atsumu decides to take matters into his own hands. If he wants the man to open up, well then, he’s just gonna have to show him that it’s a safe place to do it. 

He’ll have to do it first.

“Well, I know this guy,” Atsumu says conversationally, “He’s really cool, really good-looking, and is much better than his twin brother.”

“Wow, I already hate this guy.” Sakusa deadpans, but the hint of a smile on his face tells Atsumu otherwise.

“He may be the perfect picture of confidence ‘n sex appeal now, but just a few years ago, he was kind of a hot mess.” He exhales, resting his chin on his hand, “Fer awhile there… he thought there was truly somethin’ wrong with him.”

Atsumu half expects Sakusa to mock him as he always does, say something like, there’s a lot wrong with you, but he doesn’t. He seems to realize that Atsumu’s trying to bare his soul here.

“Growin’ up, he had a bunch of crushes, pretty boys, pretty girls, but he never had the nerve to do anything about it. ‘Cause he knew a lot of people didn’t really understand who he was ‘n he was scared that he’d be shunned.” 

Sakusa squeezes his leg lightly in an attempt to comfort.

Atsumu gives him a reassuring smile. “S’funny now because now he doesn’t really care at all anymore, but back then it bothered him. I think the only reason he never broke was because he had his brother ‘n his parents backin’ him up. And then he had volleyball ‘n his team. After that, he was set fer life. Not everyone’s so lucky, though, right? He knows that.”

“He had his first boyfriend when he was fourteen ‘n it was a secret. Only lasted a coupla months. Whenever things got too sexual, he’d panic ‘n be like, I’m not ready. I think he felt like doin’ anything like that would make it too real, y’know? Plus, back then, he was kinda insecure about his belly.”

Sakusa chuckles softly. “He had one?”

Atsumu nods, gravely. “He worked real hard to get rid of it, actually.”

The smile on Sakusa’s face is so gentle it almost makes him cry. “It was probably cute.”

“Shut up.” Atsumu mumbles, struggling to hide his blush. “Anyway, it doesn’t last long ‘n he realizes he didn’t really like this guy that much anyway. So, it ends. And then a year later, he’s in a volleyball match against a real strong team ‘n sees a really fuckin’ pretty boy on the other side of the net.”

The expression on Sakusa’s face is hard to read.

“He can’t keep his fuckin’ eyes off him.” Atsumu whispers, reverently, like it’s a secret. “Hasn’t been able to since.”

“He’s an idiot.” Sakusa says under his breath.

“Yeah, I think so too.” Atsumu sighs. “But he can’t really help it, can he? So, he meets this guy, right? This broody, gorgeous, pretentious sunnofa--”

“Hey.”

Atsumu giggles. “He meets him and… it’s almost instant. It’s like he knows right away that he’s gonna be someone special to him, y’know? It’s so weird. D’ya think it’s weird?”

Sakusa purses his lips. “No.”

Atsumu smiles. “I thought so.”

“It gets so fuckin’ bad ‘cause he’s so taken by him, y’know? And it doesn’t help that this pretty boy would look at him like…” Atsumu inhales, makes some big motion with his arms, “.... like he was wanted. He looked at him like he couldn’t stand him, but couldn’t stay away from him.”

The grip Sakusa has on his leg tightens.

“And when they start talking… like, really talking, the boy realizes he thinks he’s found someone he doesn’t mind lettin’ in. In more ways than one.” Atsumu winks, earning muted laughter from the other. 

“But when he lets him in, he gets pushed back out… and that hurts. It hurts a fuckin’ lot. So, he’s just stuck on this guy for so long, for a reason that he doesn’t even understand himself. And after the guy pisses him off in a bathroom, he starts lookin’ for anybody to keep him warm, to prove that this pretty curly haired boy wasn’t all that special… but as it turns out, he is. He’s real fuckin’ special. It’s been six years of him being special to him, fer what it’s worth.”

“And he just really believes they could be somethin’ really good, really fucking good , if they just… took a chance .” Atsumu finishes, looking at Sakusa like he’s begging for something, “If he just… helped him understand .”

Sakusa gulps, his pupils shake, and his hands tremble as he sets his beer down onto the table. He brings them together in an attempt to make the shaking stop. 

“My story isn't fun.” He admits.

“I’m not expecting it to be.” Atsumu retorts.

Sakusa’s hands don’t stop shaking. Atsumu winces at the sight.

“If… if it’s too hard, ya don’t need to force yerself right away-”

Sakusa seems to deliberate something in his head for a moment, before he decidedly reaches out, laying his hand on Atsumu’s lap, palm up. 

Atsumu takes a little too long staring at it. 

Sakusa’s fingers twitch. “Are you gonna hold my fucking hand or not?”

Atsumu kinda likes honest Sakusa. 

He bites back a fond smile as he lays his hand on top of his, squeezing it comfortingly.

Sakusa lets out a long breath and Atsumu can tell he’s relieved.

“I know a guy,” He begins, his grip on Atsumu’s hand already tightening. “He’s… a liar.”

 

In and out. Inhale, exhale. It’ll be fine.

 

“His parents were raised to believe in one thing and so he was raised the same. That’s all it ever really was. They were only ever doing what they’d been taught to do, what they believed was right. Because they loved their only son so much.” 

 

In and out. Inhale, exhale. It’ll be fine.

 

“In school, he learns that God loves all, that he is forgiving, that he does not judge, that he does not close his doors on anyone who is good. But, he also learns that none of that applies to you when you’re gay.” He snorts in a way that lacks any humor, “It didn’t matter that much at first. He was a kid, what the hell did he know? So, gay people go to hell. So, God didn’t like them. So, his parents didn’t like them. He didn’t really get it, but what’d that have to do with him?”

“It’s not until he turns fifteen that it starts to matter. He’s fifteen and he’s in this volleyball game… and he sees this cocky mustard haired bastard across the volleyball net and suddenly it has everything to do with him.”

Atsumu’s grip around his hand tightens impossibly.

“And so, he’s scared. Fucking terrified. And he does everything in his power to hide it, to change it, make it go away. He tries everything he can think of. He prays, ten times a day. He watches all the movies and all the porn the boys in his school rave about. He gets a girlfriend and dates her for a year, tolerates the touching, the kissing, pretends and tries to believe that he can live his entire life tolerating. He lies. He lies to everyone and he lies to himself. Because it’s all he can do.”

“He comes out to his cousin. He cries. He turns sixteen. A boy on the news commits suicide because he’s gay. He goes to a training camp. He rooms with the entire reason any of this began in the fucking first place. He cracks. Because the boy is… he’s too much. He looks at him and it’s electric. He touches him and it’s searing. He talks to him, he lets him in, he unintentionally breaks through the walls he’d spent so long building, and that night… he feels like he’s being welcomed home .”

 

In and out. Inhale, exhale. It’ll be fine. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry.

 

“You see, the thing is, this guy is smart. At least, he thought he was. So, when he was fifteen and realized that this was the situation he was going to be in, he’d started planning. He’d study hard, get the best possible grades, be the best possible volleyball player, be the best at whatever the fuck he could be the best at. He always listened, never talked back, never got sick, never asked for anything. He thought maybe, just maybe, if he did all that, then being gay wouldn’t matter that much.”

“When he’s sixteen, a distant cousin comes out as gay. He reveals that he’s been with his boyfriend for five years. His cousin’s a doctor. He was an honor student his whole life. He graduated magna cum laude. His parents bragged about him on Facebook all the damn time. He came out as gay. And suddenly… suddenly, he just wasn’t family anymore. To any of them. Just like that. Like it was so easy to do.”

The breath he lets out is shaky. Atsumu rubs his thumb over the back of his hand, back and forth, back and forth. Sakusa focuses on the motion.

“And he realizes it doesn’t matter how hard he tries. Once his parents find out, it’s over. And so, he lies. He keeps lying. He gets another girlfriend. Tries again, even when he knows it’d never work. He spends the next few years lying, hiding this part of himself that he’d only ever said out loud to three people when he’s been alive for twenty two years and has known for seven of them. He realizes that he just can’t let go of the boy he’d seen across the volleyball net at fifteen because these days, he looks at that same boy across their living room and feels the exact same thing… except it’s heightened to the fucking millionth degree.”

“And he’s just so fucking exhausted. He’s so fucking tired of hiding, of lying, of carrying this stupid weight inside him, but it’s all he’s ever done. It’s all he knows how to do. And he looks at this boy, this stupidly beautiful boy and wants him so badly, but can’t stop thinking of the cost. And he wonders, what the hell is he supposed to do? Give up his family for happiness? Will he be happier without them? How can he be sure of that?”

 

In and out. In and out. In and out. Don’t fucking cry. Don’t. Don’t.

 

“And it sounds stupid, right? It’s stupid. Why is he worrying so much when he shouldn’t be putting up with people who’d shun him for being who he is? For loving who he loves? For something he can’t fucking help? He’s not that helpless fifteen year old kid anymore, living under their roof, living under their protection. He’s twenty two and he’s a working adult, paying the bills, living his fucking dream, and he worked damn hard to get there. He doesn’t need his parents anymore. He can support himself without them. Why should it matter anymore, if they cut him off? Wouldn’t it be okay for him to be selfish? Shouldn’t it be okay now, at this point, to let himself be with someone he’s wanted for seven years?”

 

Breathe.

 

“A friend once told him that if someone stops loving you for who you are, then maybe they didn’t truly love you in the first place.” 

 

Breathe, Sakusa Kiyoomi.

 

“His parents used to tuck him in every night before bed, you know? His mother used to always read him bedtime stories. His father used to play volleyball with him in their backyard, even when his back hurt. They took care of him whenever he was sick. They never minded that he didn’t always like being touched. They framed all his certificates, displayed all his medals, and went to every game they could. They always told him they loved him, they do even now, embarrassingly. And he keeps wondering, if he stops lying to them… will they stop lying too?” 

He looks up and finally faces Atsumu, voice breaking against his will when he asks, “Is it so bad for him to just want them to keep lying?”

“Fuck.” Atsumu chokes out a sob, scrambling to get as close as he can, practically sitting on Sakusa’s lap as he throws his arms around him. 

He cradles Sakusa’s head into his chest, cries like it’s the end of the fucking world, cries like he’s doing it in his place, pressing kisses to the top of his hair. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He whispers.

When Sakusa exhales, it comes out as a full bodied shudder. 

He decides to allow himself this one moment of weakness, just this once, as he sinks into the embrace, sliding his arms around Atsumu’s waist and holding on tight. He closes his eyes, breathes in, and buries his face into the comforting warmth.

Atsumu can’t seem to stop weeping. Sakusa’s chest fucking hurts.

“What the hell are you crying so hard for, Miya?” He asks, forcing out a watery chuckle, “He’s just some guy I know.”