Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Miya Atsumu rolled his shoulders back as he stepped out of his therapist's office, a subconscious imitation of allowing the residual emotions released throughout the session to slide off of his tense shoulders and into the air. 

He quietly walked toward the front desk, simultaneously fishing his card from the back pocket of his jeans and thinking of a date for his next appointment.

The small receptionist offered him a gentle, familiar smile and suggested a date four weeks ahead, the usual time between his appointments, “Is 11 am okay?”

Atsumu nodded in agreement, it was off-season and that date gave him a whole day between the appointment and their next training session, he needed time to separate himself from the fragile headspace often revealed in his sessions. 

The receptionist began to type in the appointment confirmation on her computer and nudged the card machine toward him, telling him the cost of today’s session. 

Atsumu pressed his card to the machine, and while waiting for the payment to process, gave into his body's natural urge to focus on anything but whatever was in front of him, he let his eyes flitter over the waiting room. 

They came to a sudden stop, caught on something too familiar, someone too familiar. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi, Omi-Omi, Omi-Kun, was sitting in his therapist’s waiting room, eyes wide and unmistakably fixed on him, mask-obscured face pulled taught over clenched muscles. 

Ah, fuck.

The machine beeped in confirmation and Atsumu abruptly snapped back to earth, he yanked his hand down and made a haste exit from the building.

-

Looking back, he can’t remember if he walked or ran, probably both. 

-

Atsumu ran his sweaty, calloused palms over his face and sighed in frustration, it’s been an hour since he woke up and he just can’t seem to do anything.

It’s been two days since he saw Sakusa in his (their?) therapist’s waiting room and the look in his eyes hadn’t, for a second, left Atsumu’s mind.

Sakusa had always been a guarded man around their team, it was no secret that he kept away physically because of his germ thing, but no one really knew why he distanced himself in every other way possible. 

But despite his robotically still expression, Atsumu had seen more emotions from his teammate than he ever had before.

A raw, painful vulnerability was painted on the brown of his eyes, he looked at Atsumu like he had exposed him for the world to see, like he had stripped him bare, and Atsumu fucking hated himself for it.

It had been 45 hours since he saw Sakusa, and Atsumu had spent nearly every second since mentally berating himself. 

Why couldn’t he have just minded his business, why couldn’t he have just kept his eyes on what he was doing and left toward the door without getting distracted as everyone else was able to do so effortlessly.

He should have just minded his business, but he couldn’t, and now he can’t stop overthinking and he’s probably made it worse in his head, but oh god, how could he go to training again, how could he bring himself to play with Sakusa knowing something about the wing spiker that he shouldn’t know, that he doesn’t have permission to know, that Sakusa didn’t want him to know. 

Sakusa kept himself so carefully guarded and Atsumu felt like he had ruined it all because he just couldn’t stay still.

He tried as hard as he could to clear the fog of hatred from his mind for one second and reached over for his phone, he searched for his text conversation with Osamu and tapped out a simple message.

Atsumu : Come over please

Before he had the chance to return to the depths of his mind, his phone buzzed. 

Osamu : no. see you at the shop in forty minutes.

He let out a groan and rolled over to bury his face into the pillow, mentally cursing the fact that his brother always seemed to know what he needed, even if Atsumu himself didn’t.

He let himself wallow in self-pity for another few minutes, but then got himself out of bed and headed to the bathroom to run a hot, relaxing shower. 

Showers were hard sometimes. After-practice showers were fine because his teammates were there to unknowingly keep him conscious and stuck to a basic time routine, but these showers were different. He often set out to cleanse and refresh himself for the day and would realise, half an hour later, stood underneath the water stream lost in thought, that he hadn’t even begun to shampoo his hair yet. 

This was why Osamu usually set short times if they were meeting at his shop, or somewhere else where he didn’t have to worry much about appearances, because it kept him afloat. 

He was grateful for Osamu, even if his brother knew how to piss him off like no one else. 

30 minutes later, Atsumu was clean, dressed, caffeinated, and ready to discuss and dissect the fuck out of this mess at Onigiri Miya. 

-

He pushed open the wooden door of Onigiri Miya and smiled at the familiar, bright sound of the bell. 

He was met with the sight of Miya Osamu and Suna Rintarou sitting at a corner table, a plate of Atsumu’s favourite dish, fatty tuna onigiri, in the centre. 

His emotions were already incredibly heightened from the past few days, and the new positive emotions from seeing his brother and future brother-in-law sitting quietly, ready to comfort him, almost sent him into emotional overdrive. 

He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying, in a futile attempt, to pull himself together.

It only took a few seconds before he ultimately collapsed into the third seat at the table and dropped his head into his hands, “I fucked up, I fucked up Osamu, fuck.”

His twin, being by his side for their entire life, wasn’t stranger to Atsumu’s heightened emotions, his overthinking, or the shame Atsumu felt about his ADHD. Neither was Suna, one of their childhood best friends and perhaps the closest person to both twins.

“Do you think you’re going to have a panic attack?” Osamu spoke firmly, not too loud but not too quiet, it was a stable voice reserved exclusively for times like these, it had always managed to ground Atsumu. 

“No, no” Atsumu lifted his head and took in the concerned expressions of Suna and Osamu, “Just been doin’ a lot of thinking, can’t seem to stop.”

Suna finally spoke up, “What happened?” 

And with that, the floodgates opened. 

“Y’know Sakusa, yeah? Omi-omi? I talk about him sometimes, our wing spiker? Closed off, a bit mean?” 

Suna and Osamu both nodded, wearing similar faces of confusion. 

“I, uh, saw him the other day, I shouldn’t have.” Atsumu turned his head, desperate for a distraction, something to shift his mind from the shame and embarrassment flooding his body. “I was paying at the therapist’s and I should have just paid and minded my own business but, fuck, y’know me, I couldn’t, I just couldn’t, I had to look around and I saw him, and he saw me looking at him and, ugh, he tries so hard to be all guarded and private, yeah? He looked at me like I’d done something awful, like I'd exposed him to the world. I feel shit, I hate that I did that, I hate that I can’t just mind my business and look ahead, focus and then leave like everyone else. Now I can’t see him, I won't be able to look at him, I can’t train-”

Osamu cut him off with a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles over his black hoodie. “‘Tsumu,”

Atsumu paused and took a moment to try and deal with all of the overwhelming feelings coursing through his veins and bouncing off the walls of his mind. 

“You're upset because you saw him there, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Atsumu furrowed his brows, trying to read between the lines of what his brother was saying.

“You're very, very upset.” Osamu elaborated, still not reaching a conclusive point to what he was trying to communicate.

“I know it sounds irrational, but he’s a private guy and I know I annoy him for fun at practice, but this is personal, you should have seen his eyes, ‘Samu. They were haunting, they were.”

“Do you realise that you both know something about one another now? It’s a two way street ‘Tsumu, but you only seem upset that you know this about him, not vice versa.”

“You don’t get it, ‘Samu, he’s Omi, I feel like I’ve violated him and I hate myself for it, I hate that I can’t do something as simple as pay and leave without getting distracted and having to look around, it’s so fucking tiring, and now it’s gone too far. It has a consequence now, okay? I have to look at him knowing that I've learnt something about him that I shouldn’t have, because I have this stupid, messy brain and I can’t control myself, it’s exhausting.” The words had tumbled out in a rapid stream that would have been near incomprehensible to someone without a Kansai accent. 

Atsumu let out a sigh of catharsis after being able to let his mind leak out of his mouth for a moment, to offload some of the heaviness he was feeling.

Osamu kept rubbing soothing circles on his twin’s back and spoke up in a soft voice, so as not to heighten Atsumu any more than he already was, “I need you to understand that this was just your mind hitting a tipping point, okay ‘Tsumu? I’m sure that if you talk to Sakusa-Kun and let him know you don’t mean any harm it will all be fine.”

Suna nodded along in agreement with Osamu, “This is just built up emotions, yeah? Your brain’s just let things pile up for a while and now it’s dumping all of those feelings onto one, minor incident.” 

Atsumu remembered Suna saying the same thing almost word-for-word after he had a breakdown over a practice match during their third year, it seemed like his world was ending at the time, but looking back he could agree with Suna. Maybe he was right this time, too.

He wiped a tear of frustration with his sleeve and nodded, lacking the energy to say anything worthwhile. 

Osamu pushed one of the onigiri toward him and they all uttered "Itadakimasu" before Atsumu bit into it with an exaggerated moan, successfully piercing through the thick layer of emotion hanging over the table.

The mood switched instantaneously and the three men had a pleasant lunch, sharing lighthearted jokes and stories from the week since the twins had seen one another. 

_


Atsumu was too distracted to notice his phone buzzing with calls from Meian asking why the hell he wasn’t at practice, and texts from Bokuto trying to tell him that it wasn’t too late to come if he forgot.

Chapter Text

Atsumu hugged both Osamu and Suna, thanking them for their help, for putting up with him, and then headed toward his black car.

He sat down onto the leather seat and reached into his pocket for the keys, but his hand brushed the cool metal of his phone and he made a quick decision to stop and check it before starting the engine, just in case. 

He was greeted with a sight that almost had him throwing his phone out of the window, but he held back just in case his brother and soon-to-be-brother-in-law were looking out of the shop’s window.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

Atsumu had never missed a training session with his team since he started with the MSBY Black Jackals, it was the one consistent thing in his life that, no matter what, he forced himself to remember and routinely prepare for. 

Sometimes it felt like the one thing his brain couldn’t mess up.

This can’t be happening.

His phone was lit up with notifications from his teammates, most asking why he had skipped practice without calling in, some if he was okay, and others virtually yelling at him for not warning anyone.

He started the ignition and drove to his apartment as fast as he could without going over the limit, desperate to clear his head and escape Osamu’s potential sight. 

He alternated between chanting insults at himself and wiping tears of frustration off of his angry, red cheeks, “You are so damn stupid, ‘Tsumu, now you’ve let it get to fucking volleyball.” More tears fell. “There’s no way Omi’s going ta talk to you now, you’ve made it weird, looks like you're avoiding him, and you forgot about practice, your team needs you there Tsumu, dammit!”

He pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building and let his chest heave, it was going well, he was going to be okay, but no, he forgot it was a damn training day! He let himself get distracted by emotions, of all things. 

Atsumu drank some water from the bottle in his cup holder, cleared his throat and dialled Meian’s number, a plethora of apologies waiting to spill from his lips. 

His captain answered almost instantly, “Miya Atsumu,” His voice was collected, there wasn’t a hint of the explosive rage Atsumu had mentally prepared himself for, “Would you like to tell me why we were down our starting setter at training today, without an explanation or warning?” 

Atsumu hung his head in shame and desperately tried to piece together a sentence, all of the apologies he had prepared were suddenly nowhere to be found, “Meian-san I’m so sorry,” He let out a long sigh and decided it was probably best to just tell the truth, “I’ve been having a rough time lately so I went to ‘Samu’s for help this morning, training just slipped my mind completely, it won’t happen again Captain, I really am sorry.” 

Meian made an almost amused sound from the other end of the line, “Atsumu-kun, you haven’t missed a training session since you started with us, it was inconvenient but you’re fine, really. Please just let us know next time, okay? The boys were worried about you.” 

He nodded for a couple of seconds before realising he was on the phone to Meian and his captain couldn’t see him, so he spoke up “Yeah, of course, thank you, it means a lot, I’ll definitely be at the next training and if this happens again I’ll certainly let everyone know. Sorry, again.”

Meian bid a quick farewell, told Atsumu he hoped he felt better and then hung up.

Atsumu did not, in fact, feel better.

-

It was Friday, four days since Atsumu had seen Sakusa at their therapist’s office, and he now had precisely two hours until he saw his teammate again. 

Because it was once again a training day, and Atsumu had no choice but to finally face him. 

The night before, he had made sure to message all of the teammates who had reached out, letting them know he was okay, and he stayed up for a few hours talking about just about anything with Hinata and Bokuto.

He doesn’t know why he wished Sakusa had reached out, it probably would have made him ten times more anxious about the whole thing anyway. 

He paces, lost in thought and anxiety for the day ahead, for a little while before collecting himself and going through his before-practice routine. 

It was a routine he had set up in high school before morning practices, to make him get out of bed and ready with minimal distractions and time to let slip away. 

He busied himself with showering, his basic self-care routine, preparing a protein shake, and making sure he had everything he needed in his bag before checking the clock, and leaving with the perfect amount of time to pick up a coffee from his favourite cafe before making his way to training.

Most of his teammates didn’t bother with coffee before practice, opting for a pre-workout drink instead. Atsumu did this occasionally when he was short for time, but he preferred stopping for coffee, the familiar sensory profile and surroundings of the cafe always helped ease the feeling of being on-edge. 

And the staff let him chat about whatever was on his mind for the few minutes he spent there each morning, never showing signs of inconvenience or annoyance. It was nice. 

-

Miya Atsumu could not do this.

He was way too heightened, his body vibrating with both positive and negative energy.

Before leaving his car, he tried all he could to release some of the uncontrollable tension threatening to spill all at once. He went through the usual steps, rapidly clenching and unclenching his hands, his knees, his jaw, then trying to physically shake the feeling off of his limbs, but nothing was working. 

He ran a hand over his brow in frustration before letting it slide up into his hair, where he grabbed a handful of the blonde mess and yanked desperately, hoping the pain would manage to somewhat ground him. 

Nothing was working and Atsumu had no choice but to grit his teeth, exit his car and walk toward the stadium door, praying to whoever was listening that he wouldn’t make an absolute fool of himself, he really didn’t need that right now.

The familiarity of their stadium put Atsumu at ease, the biting air brought clarity and he relaxed the pent up tension in his shoulders before pushing the doors to the stadium open. 

When Atsumu first signed with the MSBY Black Jackals, he had a hard time adjusting to the new stadium, the scent of expensive floor cleaner, subtle deodorant and new shoes was a far cry from the harsh disinfectant, konbini deodorant and sweat that overpowered the gymnasium of Inarizaki High. The gymnasium that had become a second home to him.

His first day with the team after signing with MSBY was one of the rare, clear memories that Atsumu had. He remembered the disorientation he had felt while navigating the space, Bokuto on one side, Meian on the other, and Sakusa, the only other new member, standing a few feet apart from the three of them. He carefully mapped the stadium for possible distractions, things like posters, vending machines for typical athlete snacks and drinks, and windows with attractive views. Unbeknownst to Atsumu, he wasn’t the only one carefully mapping and cataloguing each corner. 

Over the years that Atsumu had been with the Jackal’s, the warm comfort that his home of Hyogo, and the Inarizaki gymnasium itself had always provided slowly found its way into the city of Osaka, and into the MSBY Jackals home stadium. 

He was happy there, he felt valued for his ability, his hard work. It was nice. 

Atsumu was reminded of just how happy he was with this life when he was suddenly struck by a bolt of silver and black lighting, engulfed into the embrace of Bokuto Koutarou. 

“‘TSUM-TSUM!” His muscled arms tightened around Atsumu, “It wasn’t the same training without you, man! We missed you.” 

Atsumu leaned into his bigger teammate and let out an amused huff, “Yeah, yeah, I missed the lot of you too,” He pulled back and fixed Bokuto with a faux-suspicious squint, “but keep that to yourself.”

Bokuto threw his head back and his boisterous laugh echoed through the hallway. 

They let go of one another and Bokuto settled a heavy arm around Atsumu’s neck, guiding him to the change room where, within seconds, he found himself in the arms of a short, orange-headed ball of sunshine. 

“Atsumu-san! Are you okay?” Hinata looked up at the setter, “I know it was just one session but it was really weird without you!”

Atsumu reached down to ruffle his hair, basking in the attention of his teammate, “All good now, Shouyou-kun! Just had something to sort with, ‘Samu.” 

Hinata nodded and unwrapped himself from Atsumu, his signature grin back in place.

The change room filled as minutes passed, and the voices of Bokuto and Hinata were now obscured by the rest of the team’s raucous talk. 

Atsumu was flailing his arms around while conversing with Bokuto, they were having a typical conversation, one that spanned over a width of sporadic and vast subjects, when his arm brushed against the fabric of a shirt. 

A shirt that did not belong to him.

A shirt that was currently being worn by one scarily expressionless Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

Atsumu backed away instantly, eyes too busy staring into Sakusa’s that he didn’t register the fact that he was pretty much standing on top of Bokuto.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, desperately trying to piece together some semblance of an apology beside all of the thoughts zooming through his mind when Sakusa broke their eye contact, picked up his bag and slowly began to walk to the other side of the room, face almost too blank to be human.

Atsumu was too overwhelmed by everything going on in his head that he borderline-yelled the first thing that came out, “I’m Sorry Omi-omi!” 

He didn’t know exactly which incident he was apologizing for. 

Atsumu cringed at his own volume and the rest of the team turned to him in confusion, to which he shrugged in response and quickly distracted himself by crouching to tie the laces of his new training shoes. 

Sakusa did not make any indication that he had heard Atsumu.

It wasn’t long before the team filed out of the change room and into the gym of the stadium.

Meian waited until they stood in a uniform circle around him before announcing that they would be starting with conditioning, which wasn’t a surprise to anyone as they were a staple of off-season training. 

Conditioning was one of Atsumu’s favourite training methods, he always found that the rest of the session went smoother when they started with exercises that required bursts of short, explosive energy. The outlet allowed him to focus more on the longer tasks that would come later.

Meian told them to get into their usual training pairs, himself with Inunaki, Oriver with Adriah, Bokuto with Atsumu, and Hinata with Sakusa, and assigned them each to one of the exercises, being squats, pull ups, deadlifts, and medicine ball rotations respectively. 

Bokuto and Atsumu set themselves up at the deadlifts, as always Atsumu shot Bokuto a sly look before choosing a number that was higher than the last time in his ever-lasting challenge to outdo Bokuto in the weight they were able to lift (He would never win this challenge.)

Bokuto took his initial position as a spotter behind Atsumu, occasionally making comments about his posture and the time left. 

Atsumu was in the middle of a lift when he came to the sudden realisation of just how close the medicine ball station was to the deadlifts, the medicine ball station where Sakusa was currently twisting from side to side, looking from Atsumu’s general direction to the wall opposite. 

“Oi!” Bokuto shouted into his ear, causing Atsumu to snap out of his thoughts, nearly dropping the weight. “Put that down right now, Tsum-Tsum.” 

Atsumu furrowed his brows toward Bokuto before settling the weight back at his feet, “The hell was that for?” 

Bokuto’s expression shifted into the same kind a teacher would make while scolding a misbehaving student, “You were about to topple over, you know you’re supposed to lift it up and then put it down, yeah? You were shaking from the strain, Tsum-Tsum.”

Atsumu nodded, and his smile fell into a frown. “Shit, yeah, sorry Bo, I guess I got distracted.” 

Bokuto lifted a hand to pat his back “I know, man. I get it. Just never seen you get this distracted while exercising before, you nearly could’ve done some serious damage there.”

He sends Bokuto a sincere smile “Good thing that’s what you’re for, I think it’s your turn now anyway.” 

Bokuto selected a weight higher than Atsumu’s and Atsumu rolled his eyes, paying cautious attention to Bokuto and pointedly focusing on anything besides the rest of his team, he didn’t think he could handle their looks after hearing that conversation. 

Meian blew the whistle after a while and they gave the equipment a thorough wipe down before moving to the pull-up station. Atsumu pretended not to watch Sakusa as he walked from the medicine balls over to the deadlifts, but he did, he watched Sakusa as he wiped over the surfaces Atsumu knows he saw him wipe already. He would usually have made some loud, unwanted comment about Sakusa’s distrust, but the force in Sakusa’s hand and his white-knuckled grip of the disinfectant wipe were enough to keep Atsumu’s mouth shut.

They went through the rest of the conditioning rotations without any major problems, and Atsumu participated in the regular on-court drills that came afterwards with a familiar ease, from years of repetition.

One by one, the rest of his teammates finished up their cool-down routines and made their way back to the change room, ready to go home for the day. 

Atsumu waved to Hinata and Bokuto where they stood looking at him from the exit of the court, shouting “I’m going to stay behind for a bit, I still have some energy to burn!” in explanation. 

His friends both nodded and Atsumu swallowed a mouthful of his sports drink, watching them leave. 

He reached for his phone, unlocked it and opened the music app before sliding his headphones into his ears and flicking through one of his seven workout playlists, each one focused on a different mood. He stood, shuffling through different songs from different playlists, for nearly ten minutes before groaning and tugging the earphones out of place. It was one of those days where nothing seemed perfectly right, everything was just a bit off, and he ultimately gave up and decided it would be best to run without background noise, to avoid inevitable irritation toward the music.

Atsumu made his way to a position on the outside of the court, letting his breath slowly even itself out before beginning to jog at his usual starting pace. 

He did this semi-regularly, stayed behind after training to run around the perimeter of the court after his teammates left, it was important that Atsumu had an outlet for excess energy when his head wasn’t in the right space, lest it manifests into anxiety and overthinking.

The persistent beat of his shoes hitting the polished floor brought comfort to Atsumu, it was reliable and gave him something to listen to on the days when the music in his headphones just didn’t seem right. 

When he first started staying behind after training sessions to do his laps, Bokuto had made an off-handed comment about how he must get sick of the court and suggested a track nearby, he raved about its invigorating scenery and told Atsumu he liked to take Akaashi there when his boyfriend was having a bad day with his anxiety. 

Atsumu did run that track every now and again, and a number of others he had found since moving to Osaka, but sometimes he needed the grounding and comfort that only a small number of things could offer him, one being volleyball courts. He liked that he could look out of the large windows while running, that the views were slightly different each day but were never so foreign as to be overwhelming. He liked the familiarity of a scent that could only be described as exertion and effort. 

Feeling as though his thoughts had gotten the better of him again, Atsumu promptly increased his pace to a vigorous sprint. His favourite method of running was jogging and sprinting in intervals, it allowed him to put every ounce of his energy, thought and being into pushing his body as far and hard as it could go, banishing his entity of anything besides sheer force, power and speed for as long as he could physically handle before taking a short amount of time to slow and come back to his own body. 

It was because of this, however, that Atsumu didn’t see the man standing frozen by the door, only a few metres away, until he slowed down to a jog. Then the room was suddenly graced with not only one, but two men standing frozen. 

Sakusa’s fixed posture was typically formal and stern, leaving no room for question or uncertainty. At that moment Sakusa’s stillness was alien, Atsumu took note of the fact that his shoulders were raised an inch or so higher than usual, the pride that usually held his head high replaced by strained, rigid muscles, the authoritative blankness of his eyes gave way to a facade of vacancy, which was doing a relatively shit job of hiding the layers of confusion, anxiety and stress underneath.

“Omi!” He called, without thinking. 

Sakusa winced at the volume, he continued to stare at Atsumu until it looked like he was about to be sick and Atsumu couldn’t decide whether to be offended or worried. 

It seemed like Sakusa was having an internal conversation so Atsumu raised his eyebrows in question. 

“Not right now.” Sakusa snapped, he turned and left before Atsumu could shout something stupid after him. 

Atsumu lacked the energy to feel too much after his run, but guilt still managed to find a way to wheedle its slimy little self into his heart.

Desperate to be anywhere but there, Atsumu cleaned himself up and left not long after.

-

The ache of guilt had dulled by the time Atsumu woke up the next day, it wasn’t absent by any means, but it wasn’t as intrusive as it was in the late, sleepless, hours of his night beforehand. 

It was a rainy day in Osaka, the kind of day painted in an artwork of muted grey and softened by a lullaby of gentle rain.

Atsumu rolled out of bed with his plush blanket hung over muscled shoulders like a cape, just as he and Osamu always did in the cold mornings of their childhood. He was a nostalgic man, and although he bickered with his twin more often than any other form of communication, Atsumu still found comfort in looking back over their shared life. 

He sat down on the couch and, while wrapped in both a physical and metaphorical blanket of warmth, turned his phone on and started scrolling through social media, switching apps whenever he got bored. 

Atsumu didn’t see much use in social media as an adult, all of his public accounts were managed by the Jackal’s PR team and he had the number of everyone close to him so the loss of contact wasn’t an issue. He did enjoy seeing what his fans had to say about his plays, though, so he often had a quick look after a game, or whenever he needed a quick source of positivity. He also liked to see what his friends, new and old, were up to, even if most of his public interactions with them were just teasing in the comments under their posts. Those were probably the only two reasons he used social media. 

Nevermind. He was suddenly hit with a very attractive reminder of the third. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi was somehow beloved by the MSBY Jackal’s fanbase, if not the entire Japanese V. League fan base as a whole, and compilations, photos and videos of him both on and off the court were abundant on all major social media platforms. It drove Atsumu mad. 

Despite knowing it would only remind him of his current problems surrounding Sakusa, Atsumu indulged himself, typed the name ‘Sakusa Kiyoomi’ into the search bar, and began scrolling. 

An hour later he typed out a text message.

Atsumu : Are you free tomorrow

Osamu : ...why?

Atsumu : Gay panic

Osamu : jesus christ 

Atsumu : Atsumu*

Osamu : you’re a menace

Atsumu : Yes well I’m a gay menace who’s panicking and in desperate need of brotherly love!

Osamu : don’t come before 1 pm. 

Atsumu : See you tomorrow (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و

Atsumu : P.S. Tell Suna he needs a better sleep schedule 

-

Atsumu flopped unceremoniously onto Suna and Osamu’s couch with a huff, “Am I stupid?” 

From the corner of his eye, he could see them exchange similar looks that screamed ‘Is he in a fragile mood? Will he crumble if we say yes?’ 

He buried his face into one of their decorative couch cushions, letting out a muffled and sorrowful “I hate living like this, it’s not fair.”

He heard a sigh and footsteps, but was too preoccupied to comprehend which action belongs to which man. It was only when he felt a hand on his back that he turned his head and cracked one eye open, to be met with the winged-eyeliner-ed eyes of Suna, who was crouched next to him. “We are probably about to have a shitty, hard conversation, so before that starts, I’m going to give you something to look forward to.”

Atsumu raised his head out of curiosity. 

“Me, you, sake, face masks, sashimi, and a whole lot of shit-talk about ‘Samu. Next weekend?”

He huffed out a laugh at the sound of Osamu’s hand lightly hitting Suna’s head and winked at him, “Hell yes.”

“Alright, get up.” With that, the couple took their usual seats when Atsumu came to visit, Osamu on the couch beside him and Suna in the smaller one opposite the twins.

Osamu was the first to talk, “What happened, then?” 

Atsumu sighed, “Got distracted by him in training, spent all day yesterday scrolling through videos of him instead of doing the housework I should’ve done. Now the laundry’s not done and I feel like a stalker or something, I just couldn’t snap out of it”

Osamu seemed to struggle with finding a response, and it took almost a minute for him to speak up, “Have you thought about meds?” 

“Yeah, yeah I have been thinking about that a lot recently. I’m just scared they’ll mess with my body or something, interfere with volleyball. That sounds stupid now, but I don’t know, I’ve never been good with change. Or booking appointments.”

Osamu laughed at the attempt at humour at the end, “Why don’t you speak to one of the team’s health staff, just as a starting point. I hate seeing you like this, ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu offered a small smile, “Yeah, I hate seeing me like this too. Tears clash with my beautiful features.”

His twin rolled his eyes, “Seriously though, ‘Tsumu, I hate that you have to deal with this and I don’t, you know I’d take it from you in a heartbeat if I could.”

“I know, I know.” Atsumu turned to face Osamu, “Now please stop being all soft, it’s creeping me out a bit.”

Osamu shot him an amused look and Suna spoke up from the other couch, “Hey, Atsumu?”

Atsumu hummed in lieu of a worded response. 

“Do you want me to call Kita? I can explain what’s going on so you don’t have to.”

Kita Shinsuke. Oh, Kita Shinsuke. 

He found himself overcome by positive emotions at just the sound of Kita’s name. 
-
Atsumu remembers all of it as if it happened just hours earlier. He remembers the exact feel of the radiant sun reflecting on his back on that bright Hyogo afternoon during his first year at Inarizaki, Osamu had approached him toward the end of their training session, apologies falling from his lips at an impressive rate. 

“‘Tsumu,” He had said, “I’m really sorry but is it alright if you walk home by yourself tonight, Kita-san’s asked me to stay after training to talk about something and I’m sure he wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Atsumu did not try to hide his childish, envy-infused pout from Osamu, “Sucking up to Kita-san, are you?” 

Osamu had slapped him in response, “You’re just jealous because Kita-san wants to spend time with me.”

Atsumu had crossed his arms and stormed off.

The walk home wasn’t very pleasant, he kept wondering why Kita wanted to talk to Osamu and not him, his mind supplied a million different scenarios, most of which involved them making fun of Atsumu. In the end, he told himself that Kita wouldn’t purposely hurt him, but he still struggled to fall asleep with conspiracies whirring through his head. 

Kita and Osamu didn’t mention it for weeks, and it drove Atsumu to near insanity. They didn’t meet without him again, which made him feel better, but he was still alert and suspicious, eyes constantly surveying each boy for signs that they were somehow secretly interacting with one another. 

It took two weeks for it to be brought up again, when Kita came up to Atsumu while he was mopping after a particularly gruelling session, “Hello, Atsumu-kun.”

Atsumu grinned, pleased at the attention from Kita, “Yes, Kita-san?

“Are you free this weekend, by any chance? I was hoping to come over, to discuss something with you.”

Atsumu visibly preened, “I am!” 

He gave Kita his address, they chose a time that worked for both of them, and Atsumu spent the rest of the week unable to focus on anything beside Kita for a single moment. 

The day Kita Shinsuke came to visit the twin’s house for the first time, there were sakura petals floating through the air and every centimetre of their corner of the earth was cloaked in a delicate warmth.

Kita offered polite greetings to the Miya’s parents, slipped his shoes off, and followed Atsumu to the twin’s room with his messenger bag hanging off a shoulder, he let out a melodious laugh at the makeshift sign on the door that said “No Osamu’s Allowed.”

He sat in Atsumu’s desk chair while Atsumu sat on his own bed and they talked about volleyball for a short while, before the conversation took a turn. 

“Atsumu-kun, do you mind if I tell you something that might come off as a little bit invasive.” 

Atsumu shook his head with force, “You can tell me anything Kita-san!” 

Kita had pulled a tattered, dated, and comically large book from his bag and set it on the desk. “A couple of weeks ago I spoke to Osamu, I’m sure he told you already.”

Atsumu’s eyes widened, “Yes, yes he did.”

Kita flipped through the pages as he spoke, it appeared he was looking for a certain one in particular. “I asked him about you, I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I noticed you weren’t performing to your full potential in training and then found out about your grades, so I thought talking to Osamu might help.”

He cocked his head in confusion, a silent request for Kita to elaborate. 

“I already had my own theories, but getting his insight into your behaviour and personality from your younger years was very helpful. The idea came up after that time you came to me after a practice match and requested we ask the band to pause while you serve, do you remember that Atsumu-kun? You told me you couldn’t focus with their noise.” 

He nodded. 

“I couldn’t help but notice things after that, you tend to get carried away with jokes and playing, if you don’t mind me saying that. I don’t mean to come off as rude.” Kita gave him a sincere smile, laced with mild pity. “I did a bit of my own research, and then found this at a second hand market. I think you will find some interesting information in this chapter. 

The book was open on a page that read ‘Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Everything You Need to Know .” 

The two boys had poured over the pages for what felt like hours, discussing, making notes and pointing certain things out to one another that were applicable to Atsumu. 

Later that afternoon, Atsumu had walked down the stairs with Kita in tow, for moral support, he then placed the book on the table in front of his parents, open to the same chapter, and told them to read and consider it. Osamu hadn’t looked surprised in the slightest. Secretive bastard. 
-
Atsumu suddenly noticed the weird looks directed toward him from Osamu and Suna and shook himself out of the memory. 

“Sorry, got a bit nostalgic over Kita-san there. I would appreciate that Sunarin. Thank you.” Atsumu paused, “Not now though, if that’s okay? Maybe let him know tomorrow.”

Suna nodded and typed something into his phone, probably a reminder. 

Atsumu spoke again, his tone considerably more mellow this time, “I’d like to spend this afternoon with my family. I think I need you two right now.”

Chapter Text

Almost two weeks had passed since the night Atsumu spent at Osamu and Suna’s home, and his life had remained quite uneventful since.

He had three long phone conversations with Kita in the days after, and through hours of self-reflection, advice, and discussion, had ultimately managed to somewhat pull himself together.

The bi-weekly MSBY training sessions remained a steady part of his schedule, and each one had passed without any major difficulty. Atsumu and Sakusa were both unwavering in their desire to be as far from one another as possible, the sessions had exclusively been practical, as opposed to the rare theory session that Atsumu hated, and his fans had responded very enthusiastically to a shirtless Instagram he posted the day before.

He was still struggling, but there were good days amongst the bad.

Which was why he walked into Osamu and Suna’s house, sans knocking, with an air of positivity and an excited grin on his face. 

“Sunarin! I’m hooooooome.” Atsumu called through their spacious apartment in a mocking imitation of a romantic partner coming home after a long day.

Suna strolled out of his and Osamu’s bedroom clad in a red silken robe with Osamu trailing behind him, exasperation written all over his face. Suna made his way over to Atsumu and dropped a delicate kiss on his cheek with a dramatically flirtatious “Bonjour, honey.”

Osamu rolled his eyes with a groan and reached to the side of Atsumu’s head, plucking his black cap with the Onigiri Miya logo embroidered on the front off of one of the hooks. “Behave, you two.” With that, he made the ‘i’m watching you’ hand signal at Atsumu with a childish glare.

It was a common theme between the three, joking about Atsumu stealing Suna. It wasn’t a secret that Atsumu had once harboured an intense, two-week crush on his brother’s fiancé during their first year at Inarizaki, but the jokes never contained any real suspicion or threat.

Atsumu shot him a wink, “I can’t make any promises.”

Osamu whacked him over the head and lent toward Suna, yanking him into a passionate, heated kiss that lasted all of five seconds before Atsumu started, very loudly, pretending to vomit.

“See you later, love.” He sent Atsumu a smug grin, leant down to place a genuine kiss against Suna’s lips and began to walk out of the door for his shift, “Oh, and if there’s no sake left when I get home, you owe me, ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu stuck his tongue out and waved at his brother, “Okay, okay, now go have a nice ol’ shift while I have fun with Suuuunariiiiin!”

Suna was the one to whack him this time.

Less than an hour later, Miya Atsumu and soon-to-be-Miya Rintarou were standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Suna in his red silken robe and Atsumu in his own black one that Suna had instructed him to bring earlier that afternoon. 

Suna was slathering a clay and charcoal mask onto his face with the kind of ease and precision that could only mean he was definitely not a stranger to this, while Atsumu stood beside him massaging a matcha mask into his skin, also seemingly not a stranger to this.

After the masks were applied, Suna began humming along to a song playing from the radio in the living room and Atsumu danced along with his shoulders. Atsumu liked this, he wasn’t doing the usual constant, nervous talking and double-checking for approval tonight, he was just having a nice time with one of his best friends. It was rare that nights like these happened, and he was happy.

They continued until the masks were dry, then took turns at the sink, flicking water toward one another at every opportunity.

“That’s it, I'm standing up to object at your wedding.”

Suna gasped and put a hand on his heart, “I’m telling Osamu you said that, he’ll definitely rethink-”

Atsumu looked at him with narrow-eyed suspicion “Rethink what, Sunarin...?”

“Nothing. I hate you.”

“Say that again and I’ll gatekeep the family name from you.”

“No, the rest of your family loves me too much. I’m the favourite son and you know it.”

“We need to start on the sake soon if I have to spend the rest of the night with you.”

Suna rolled his eyes and walked to the kitchen with Atsumu in tow, both of their skin fresh and glowing under the lights.  

Atsumu opened the refrigerator door and let out an elongated whistle at the sight of all of the fresh produce and lavish groceries inside, Osamu had always been one to double the number of items on their family’s grocery list and it wasn’t a surprise to anyone that his enthusiasm for health and experimental cooking extended past his childhood and into both his restaurant and home.

He reached in to grab two bottles of sake when Suna spoke from behind him, causing him to jolt and nearly drop the bottles.

“You know that if you went to a grocery store every now and again instead of living off konbini snacks and instant noodles your fridge could look like that too.”

Atsumu pouted “Oi! We all know if it weren’t for ‘Samu you’d eat exclusively energy drinks and instant noodles, hypocrite.”

Suna plucked a bottle of sake from Atsumu’s hand and hip-checked him out of the way of the fridge, “Lucky for me I’ve got him then.” He leant in to grab a platter of sashimi that Osamu must have prepared earlier. With an over-the-top innocent voice, he added, “Completely unrelated, but how are things going with your mean teammate?”

Atsumu gave his most (in his humble opinion) intimidating glare in response and with that, they began to set the table.

Suna laid out the sashimi with a large bowl of rice in the centre, Kita’s, Atsumu had noted with a smile, and they said their thank you’s before beginning to place food on their individual plates.

After the meal had been completed and one and a half bottles of sake had been ingested by each man, the conversation took an eventful turn.

“Suuuuunariiiiin?” Atsumu asked, drawing out the vowels in a slightly drunk call for attention.

The other man looked up, his cheeks flushed and his mouth turned into a discreet smirk, “Mmhmm?”

“I think. I think I have a problem.” Atsumu’s face scrunched up like he was still deliberating on said problem.

“A gay problem?”

“Yeah, a gay problem.”

“A problem with freaky wrists?”

“Yeah, a problem with freaky wrists.”

“A problem that you think hates you?”

“Yeah, a problem that I think hates me.”

“A problem you’re hopelessly pining after?”

“You are dead to me.”

Suna tried for all of five seconds to hold a straight face before giving up and letting his villainous laugh run free through the apartment. 

-

As usual for a Tuesday morning this close to the start of the new season, Atsumu was in the change rooms getting prepared for the day’s session.

He was in the middle of an animated conversation with Bokuto, the current topic being about whether or not foxes can be domestic pets (don’t ask) when his brain hit him with a sudden thought of ‘you haven’t had a theory session in a while…’

Theory sessions were Atsumu’s nightmare and his ADHD’s sworn enemy, they usually consisted of the team sitting around a table while Meian played tapes of other’s teams, they criticised the plays, discussed techniques, and Meian would ask questions about not only their volleyball knowledge, but also their understanding of the physical human body and it’s athletic capacities.

Of course, Atsumu did know the answers and was confident in his knowledge. Almost, if not, all professional athletes possessed a variation of this knowledge from years of training, learning, and pushing themselves. The problems lay in the facts that Atsumu could never, ever pay attention in these sessions (‘we already know this stuff, it’s boring and useless, we should be on the court,’ he had once explained to Hinata.) and that his overall memory and ability to use his own knowledge when it was relevant, were complete and utter shit.

Yes, he found his high school team’s motto very ironic.

He was quick to brush off that idea and tried to tune back into Bokuto’s current train of thought, but it was a bit too late for that. Bokuto pretended to shoot Atsumu with his finger guns and laughed, “One day I’ll get through a whole conversation, start to finish, completely on-topic, with you Tsum-Tsum!”

Atsumu laughed and turned to shrug his training shirt over his shoulders, but he wasn’t fast enough to miss seeing Bokuto’s body seemingly deflate from the corner of his eye. He whipped his head back around, “All good there Bokkun?”

Bokuto looked uncharacteristically nervous, “Well…”

“Go on, spit it out.”

“I spoke to Meian earlier and he’s set today up for a theory session, I took my meds so I should be okay but I know you don’t take them and I know how much you hate these days, sorry Tsum-Tsum.”

Atsumu threw his arms up, “And you didn’t think to tell me earlier?! I’m in the middle of changing Bokkun!”

“To be fair, I thought you’d notice that no one else has been in here getting changed and go find out for yourself.”

“Oh, so everyone knows but me then?!”

“Meian had to set something up just before you got here and told me to tell people as they came in, you just headed straight for the change rooms! I thought maybe you wanted to be in here or something! Then I got carried away talking and forgot!”

Atsumu could feel the energy in his veins slowly infuse with irritation, “Dammit, Bokkun!” He slipped his normal shirt back over his chest and walked out, leaving his larger teammate behind.

He tried to still the anxious, itching energy coursing through his body while he walked over to where the rest of the team stood waiting, but he knew that attempt was doomed from the start.

“Bokkun’s coming, we just got carried away with our conversation again, you know us!” Atsumu sighed and added, “Sorry.”

The rest of the team, excluding Sakusa, smiled and nodded without irritation as they were only a minute or so late, and Bokuto joined them not a minute later.

He knew he was being dramatic, but it felt like Atsumu’s feet had been replaced by 40 kilogram weights and every step took conscious, painful, effort.

Bokuto reached over to put a friendly hand on his shoulder at one point, but he turned around and slapped it away instantly, catching Sakusa’s eye in the process and jerking his head back like Sakusa was a modern-day, volleyball-playing, germ-terrified Medusa.

They piled into the room that was set up with a table, whiteboard, enough chairs for each of them, and an extravagant screen ahead.

They all took their seats, Hinata was to Atsumu’s left and Bokuto to his right, with Sakusa to Bokuto’s right, and Meian put the first tape in. 

Of course it was EJP, of course it was fucking EJP. 

Atsumu desperately tried to pull himself together and focus on the screen, he was trying so fucking hard to watch attentively and analytically like he knew every single other person in the room was, but it was hopeless.

The skin on his hands was close to breaking from the continuous strain of his nails digging in, he could feel every drop of sweat on his body, he could hear every intake of breath from his teammates, every time he directed his eyes to the screen, all he could see was Suna and then his mind would wander off in a fast-paced stream of Suna-related thoughts, that quickly turned into Osamu-related thoughts, and would ultimately end in Inarizaki-related thoughts.

He heard a sharp intake of breath from his right, sounding a slight bit too distant to have come from Bokuto, and it was enough to pull him out of his train of thought about trains of thoughts and realise his nails had finally drawn blood.

Atsumu balled his hands and shoved them into his pockets, making a mental reminder to wash them as soon as he could.

The distraction of his hands didn’t last long, and the itching need for distraction or communication only got worse, spreading itself over every inch of Atsumu’s body, taunting him. With his hands out of action, Atsumu tried clenching and unclenching his teeth as hard as he could, but it just wasn’t enough.

The timer on the bottom of the screen said the game was about ten minutes in when Meian decided to pause it on a frame of Komori crouched on the ground with a blurred volleyball about a metre away from him, flying toward his wrists.

“Inunaki,” He called, abruptly putting an end to Atsumu’s attempted visualisation of exactly where the ball would touch Komori, “Why did I pause this?”

Atsumu’s mind went straight back to trying to visualise the exact path of the ball, eyes squinted in concentration, he didn’t hear Inunaki’s answer.

Meian lifted the remote once again and was about to press play when Atsumu interrupted, “Wait!” The entire team shifted their heads toward him in interest, and with a cocky smirk, Atsumu said “The ball’s going to land on his lower forearm, the first point of touch will be about…” He drew out the syllables like he was making this up on the spot and hadn’t been fixated on it for the past five minutes, “Four centimetres up from his wrist.”

Their team captain rolled his eyes, but slowed down the video anyway. They all watched the ball’s path closely, and the moment it hit skin Atsumu was confirmed to be correct. Buzzing on the energy of attention and being right, he grinned his signature confident grin and leaned back into his chair, “That is exactly why I’m the best volleyball player in this room.”

Hinata and Bokuto laughed, the rest of the team looked fed-up.

The game went on and Atsumu sunk back into his own mind, thinking about anything and everything, mainly volleyball, which was a bit ridiculous considering he was actively distracting himself from watching the very same sport on a screen in front of him. He must have been staring into space for a bit too long, though, because Bokuto discreetly jabbed his elbow into Atsumu’s ribs. He sent his teammate a grateful wink and sat up, turning his attention toward the screen once again.

Suna was playing well, he noted. As much as he hated to admit it, he did often admire Suna’s ability to keep himself collected and quiet, even if he used that ability less and less as his time with Osamu went by. He enjoyed watching Suna play, he thought, whenever he made a good hit Atsumu’s heart swelled with brotherly pride.

Suna blocked and scored on screen, and Atsumu couldn’t hide his grin, “That’s Sunarin, my future brother-in-law!” He spoke over the top of the game, “We did face masks together last week, oh! And drank sake. He’s cool.” His comment was supposed to be a hushed one, meant only for Hinata and Bokuto, but Atsumu never was any good at voice regulation.

Meian shot him a look, Adriah and Inunaki rolled their eyes, Oriver rubbed his hand on his brow, Hinata smiled politely and Bokuto replied with a hushed “That’s cool! When this is over we should organise a dinner.”

It was frustrating, getting these reactions out of the people he considered close, It was frustrating that the enthusiasm he hoped would make them like him more only gave them reason to dislike him. It was frustrating being looked down on because he wanted to tell his friends about someone that made him happy. The rejection was frustrating. And the surge of emotions that came along with it felt childish.

Atsumu made a decision not to look over at Sakusa.

He gave a small smile to the team, offered Meian a “Sorry for interrupting, Cap. Go ahead.” and went back to pretending he was anywhere but there.

He tried to keep himself mellow, distracted but not distracting. He let his thoughts wander.

Atsumu looked over at Sakusa.

In his defence, it is a challenge to be thinking of someone while in their vicinity and not sneak so much as a peak.

And Miya Atsumu was, once again, thinking of one Sakusa Kiyoomi.

He knew that he should apologise, he should approach Sakusa calmly, offer his sincerest apologies, show guilt for his actions, and hope that at the very least, Sakusa’s entire being stops sending waves of ice toward Atsumu whenever they were in the presence of one another. But he had ignored this responsibility for about three weeks, he had neglected to show Sakusa that he did feel remorse, and now Sakusa had every right to the hostility he held like a weapon.

He also knew that it was probably not considered okay to start thinking of someone romantically through the time you’ve spent reflecting upon the pain you’ve likely caused them.

Atsumu looked over at Sakusa again.

It is a known fact that Atsumu thrives off positive attention from others. He would be a liar if he said he didn’t miss riling up Sakusa with his little nicknames, annoying him endlessly but knowing that Sakusa didn’t genuinely hate him. Seeing his teammate so withdrawn from him was bad enough in itself, but at a time where he was starting to think about Sakusa like this, and wanted nothing more than his attention? That sucked.

Atsumu looked over at Sakusa for a third time.

He could tell that even under his mask, Sakusa’s skin was redder than usual, he could see his chest rising and falling at an abnormal pace, he noticed that Sakusa’s eyes were glazed over, his view unmoving from a pen on the table.

Atsumu, head clouded by desire for both Sakusa’s attention and forgiveness, did not think twice before hopping up out of his chair.

All eyes turned to him and Atsumu, already settled into his role as the group disruptor, announced “I think we all need a food break! I know I sure do!”

Meian was the only person to object, responding with “It’s just getting good! Did you see that set, Miya?” but the rest of the team had already begun to rise. He sighed in defeat and used his hand to shoo Atsumu away after seeing the smug look on his face.

Sakusa glared at Atsumu as he passed him while leaving the stadium later that afternoon, and Atsumu spent the entire night trying to decipher whether it was a new Sakusa glare or an old Sakusa glare.

-

The rest of Miya Atsumu’s week was decidedly pleasant, the MSBY Thursday and Friday training sessions were exclusively physical, he sent Osamu pesky texts regularly throughout each day, and his mind was almost always preoccupied with Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

It was a cool, Saturday night in Osaka and Atsumu was sitting on his couch with a bowl of cereal in his lap and his phone in his hand.

He was in the middle of shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth when his phone began to vibrate, so he choked it down as quick as he could and answered.

“TSUM-TSUM!” Bokuto’s enthusiastic, loud voice echoed from his phone.

“BOKKUN!” He returned the greeting in an identical tone.

“What are you doing right now?”

Atsumu's eyes narrowed in suspicion “Am I allowed to ask why?”

“Nope!”

“I’m…” He paused, internally arguing whether or not to be honest, “On my couch with a bowl of cereal?”

“Perfect!” Bokuto’s voice had, impressively, got louder.

“Perfect ?”

“Yep! We’re having a movie night, me, you, and Shouyou.

“Only me, you and Shouyou, Bokkun?”

“Mmhmm, you know our address. See you in forty!” Bokuto hung up without another word.

Atsumu buried his face into his palms and let out a deep sigh of self pity. He then looked at the clock, remembered Bokuto was expecting him in forty minutes, and ran to the shower.

Ten seconds later, he hauled himself off the ground and made a mental note to stop running on the floorboards with socks on. 

-

Atsumu parked his car in the parking lot of Akaashi and Bokuto’s apartment complex and made his way through the building to their apartment. 

It was slightly further away from Ohasuhigashi, where the rest of the team lived and the home to the MSBY Black Jackal’s training stadium, but the apartment was spacious, comfortable, and Akaashi and Bokuto had made it into their perfect home.

Atsumu tapped his fist against the door to their apartment once, and stood back to wait for Bokuto.

The door swung open almost immediately and Bokuto wrapped him into a tight bone-crushing hug, which he reciprocated for a moment before pulling back to greet Hinata, who was standing beside Bokuto. It was then that he saw a flash of black hair from behind them and raised his voice to say hello to Bokuto’s fiancé “Oh, hey Aka-”

All four men instantaneously froze.

“That is not Akaashi.”

Bokuto grimaced.

“No. It is not Akaashi.” Sakusa looked up to meet Atsumu’s eye.

In that second of distraction, Bokuto reached over to yank Atsumu’s arm, causing him to yelp and stumble into the apartment.

Hinata shut the door behind him and they both exchanged a conspiratorial look, one that caused a deep exhale to free itself from Atsumu’s lungs.

Hinata crossed his arms and Bokuto followed suit, “We have had enough,” Bokuto announced, “this is an intervention and you two have to deal with it.”

Atsumu flushed a deep red at this revelation, and he looked over at Sakusa to see the other man with a matching flush and eyes just as wide with panic. 

Shit.

Oh no.

They can’t find out why he hates me. 

If they find out then they know too, and it is once again directly my fault.

Shit. 

Atsumu was frantically trying to put together an idea, a story, absolutely anything, he voiced the first thought that came to mind.

“Bokkun, there’s a konbini a few minutes away, yeah?”

Bokuto nodded slowly, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Do you mind if Omi-Omi and I go for a quick walk to get some uh… intervention snacks?” He genuinely wanted to slap himself the second the words ‘intervention snacks’ came out of his mouth.

Sakusa looked like he was having the exact same thought.

Bokuto threw his arms in the air “You’re supposed to hate each other right now! That’s why we’re having this intervention!”

Hinata stepped forward to place a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder, effectively silencing him, “As long as neither of you run away, and you make sure to get me two pork buns, you may go on an intervention snack run.” Despite his words, his eyes were still narrowed in suspicion.

“Come on then, Omi-Omi!” Atsumu shot Sakusa a wink and walked toward the door, the other man hunched his shoulders and followed Atsumu out of the door, eyes cast downward.

As they left, they both heard Hinata’s “Hey! Maybe it’s a lovers' quarrel, they’ll probably fix that on their way and then we don’t have to do anything.”

They also both heard Bokuto’s thoughtful hum in response.

Atsumu and Sakusa both looked ahead and pretended they hadn’t heard a thing. 

_

They made their way through the building in silence, but it was broken once they stepped out onto the street. 

“Brrrrr.” Atsumu rubbed his arms up and down the length of his sleeves, looking over at Sakusa to see if he would comment on the weather too.

He did not.

In the next three minutes, Atsumu snuck a total of thirty five glances at Sakusa’s mask-clad face.

“I’m really sorry, Omi.”

“If you look at me one more time I’ll blind you, Miya.”

The words came out of either man at the exact same time.

Atsumu cleared his throat and repeated the apology, pointedly ignoring Sakusa’s threat. “I am really sorry, Omi, I am.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“I should have said it earlier, I just, I got really in my head about it.”

“You got in your head, did you?” Sakusa’s voice came out stern and judgemental.

“Yeah…?”

“I’ve been going around for three weeks waiting until everyone told me they knew about me, but I’m sorry you got in your head, Miya Atsumu.”

“Did you really think I'd do that to you?” Atsumu was borderline yelling at this point.

Sakusa paused in his tracks, turning a deadly glare onto Atsumu “You never shut up, you can’t read people well, you say whatever comes to mind at any given time. Forgive me for being anxious about you blabbing to someone on the team.”

A single tear fell down Atsumu’s cheek, but Sakusa’s reddening eyes told him that he wasn’t alone in crying on this shitty street.

Sakusa didn’t stop, he let the words pour out, spoken in a tone laced in venom “You do not have a single clue how much this has stressed me out, how much of my time I’ve spent worrying about you and your idiotic, loose tongue.”

“I’m sorry!” Atsumu yelled, grateful the street was empty of pedestrians, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise, I didn’t know, Omi, you’re quiet, I thought you wanted me far away.”

“I was quiet because I was terrified, you were loud and annoying as you always are, like nothing had happened. Like it was another thing for you to brag about.”

“I’ve been so loud and-” He struggled to find the right word for a second, “My brain’s been so messy, because I was just as terrified as you.”

No words came out for a short while after that, they both collected themselves and thought over what the other was trying to say.

Sakusa was the first to start walking again, shoulders hunched and expression murderous, “You're not forgiven, Miya Atsumu.” he hissed.

After seeing the three weeks of hurt and anxiety that he had caused Sakusa laid bare in front of him, Atsumu couldn’t say he didn’t deserve that.

Chapter Text

Atsumu stood back for a few moments, allowing Sakusa to venture on ahead by himself, before slowly following him toward the konbini.

The glaring lights of the 7/11 lit the previously dark pavement before them and from Atsumu’s viewpoint, created a glowing halo that radiated off of Sakusa’s silhouette.

He was too busy admiring this view to notice that Sakusa had stopped in his footsteps, but caught himself when he became aware of the fact that he was now only about a metre away from the other man.

“I’m not going in.” Sakusa’s sudden voice startled him.

Atsumu began to nod in response before realising that he was standing behind Sakusa, who probably didn’t have an extra set of eyes in the back of his head.

Actually , Atsumu thought, if someone I knew did happen to have an extra set of eyes, it would definitely be him. That’s a very Sakusa thing to have.

Sakusa turned his head and raised his eyebrows at Atsumu, looking unimpressed at the other man’s inattention.

Atsumu shook his head to physicalise the action of shaking away his thoughts, a technique he’d adopted as a child, and, without wanting to question Sakusa, shot him a grin and a thumbs up. “All good! I’ll be quick.”

Sakusa nodded sharply and turned to face the road, gloved hands rubbing together in the typical motion of trying to create heat from friction.

Atsumu dragged his eyes away from Sakusa’s stiff form and walked through the advertisement-covered doors.

The tired cashier welcomed him and he returned the welcome with a cheerful wave. It took only seconds before he was, inevitably, distracted by the bold, clashing, loud packaging of the products in the first aisle, each one vying for the customers’ attention.

Atsumu made his way through the aisles, reaching for his own favourite snacks and the ones he knew his teammates preferred. He was almost done when noticed a small, familiar packet of ume candy amongst the other sweets and without a second thought, added it to his basket before beginning to make his way to the front counter.

The can of a popular energy drink caught his eye as he walked past the refrigerators, and Atsumu paused to open the door and get a better look. There was a new sticker-type image decorating the bottom half of the silver can, and Atsumu smiled in both recognition and mild surprise. It showed a man with cat-ear headphones and sleepy eyes doing a peace sign with one hand, and holding the same drink with the other, with the name Kodzuken printed beside the image in blocky letters. Hinata’s gamer friend, his mind supplied, and Nekoma’s old setter. He added a couple of cans to the basket.

Atsumu was looking around the counter as the cashier scanned his items through when he saw some little pocket hand sanitisers hung up on clips beside the register. His eyes widened in excitement when he noticed that each sanitiser had a cartoon weasel on the label, and he took one glance out of the window before putting three of them before the cashier with a charming smile.

He paid and left the konbini with a polite goodbye.

It was evident through the somewhat-dissipated tension in the air surrounding and their placated body language that both had been able to regain their composure and settle down in their short time apart.

Upon noticing the loss of hostility in Sakusa’s form, Atsumu didn’t waste time before beginning to dig around the bag for the three cartoon-weasel-printed sanitisers. “Look!” He held one up for him to see, “It’s you!”

Sakusa blinked, staring straight at him without a hint of emotion. “You bought me hand sanitisers with weasels on them.” 

“Yeah.” Atsumu gave him a playful smile, “Because of Itachiyama! And your thing about germs.”

“Mysophobia.” Sakusa’s expression remained equivalent to that of a blank sheet of paper.

Atsumu’s face scrunched in concentration as he tried to recall what that word meant, his mouth opened, but he figured it would be impolite to ask so he shut it again, instead looking back to Sakusa with a flush on his cheeks.

“It’s why you saw me there.” Sakusa reached over to pick up the pocket sanitisers from Atsumu’s hand with his own gloved one.

Atsumu stared in bewilderment.

“I still don’t like you. Neither do my sanitiser weasels.” With that, he walked off.

Atsumu stood in shock for a few moments, trying to process what had just happened.

He came back to his senses not long after and half-jogged half-walked to catch up with Sakusa, “Thankyou.” He started once he was walking at a steady pace next to him, “Thankyou for telling me.”

Sakusa nodded and kept a steady focus on the street ahead, his chest rising and falling slightly faster than it had been a few minutes beforehand.

Atsumu noticed the signs of a building panic so he spoke again, gentler this time. “I go there for my ADHD.”

Sakusa nodded once again, quietly adding “Thankyou for telling me, too.”

They didn’t speak again until they were a few metres away from the door to Akaashi and Bokuto’s apartment.

“We made up.” Sakusa said, his voice just as void of expression as his face.

“Oh!” Atsumu’s tone brightened considerably. “We did?”

Sakusa looked genuinely pained, like an exasperated parent who needed a night off, “We are telling them that we did.”

“Ahh.”

Hinata squeaked in surprise when they walked in together, his exclamations of happiness for them following not long after.

Bokuto clapped Atsumu on the back with a wink.

-

Atsumu woke up around midday the next day, he would usually be quite upset that he had wasted the morning but considering the fact that it was a Sunday, he didn’t chastise himself.

Instead, he got up slowly, he ran a shower and sat down, letting the hot water and steam wash him in warmth and provide comfort and clarity while he gathered his thoughts and planned how to best approach the situation with Sakusa. An hour or so after, he made himself a cup of coffee and a protein-rich breakfast, which he made sure to finish before going back to his bedroom to collect his laptop.

He entered the password and after it unlocked, immediately opened google and typed ‘Mysophobia’ into the search bar.

Atsumu scrolled through page upon page of google results, sifting through for the most reliable sites and blogs written by sufferers of that particular phobia. He still couldn’t believe Sakusa had just told him like that, but he was grateful that he could now better understand the way his teammate worked and begin to see the internal pressures that were weighing him down daily.

Angry was an emotion at the forefront of his mind as he continued to scour through articles, journals and blogs. Atsumu was angry that he had underestimated the severity of Sakusa’s phobia, he was angry that he had never thought to offer help, he was angry that it took Sakusa outright telling him that he had this phobia before Atsumu thought to research his behaviour regarding germs. Atsumu  was angry that Sakusa, although being exposed to his fears daily as a professional athlete, dealt with this silently, he was angry that Sakusa had to go through this.

Piece by piece, the knowledge he gathered began to fit its way into a puzzle. A puzzle that, albeit complex, came together to illustrate a comprehensible image of the anxieties that plagued Sakusa.

Atsumu thought it was almost strange to learn of another like this, of course he knew that every person lived a life deeper than an outside perception, but it was still an unusual feeling to think about just how deep that ran, and just how much he didn’t know.

As he came across more and more information, questions and curiosities were sparked. He read that Mysophobia was sometimes a result of the household or situation the sufferer grew up in, but sometimes it wasn’t, he wondered what the case was for Sakusa. He tried to refrain from thinking too deep, however, as he didn’t want to cross any lines that would make the other man uncomfortable if he found out Atsumu had been thinking about him that much.

He thought about Sakusa’s ability to play volleyball, and pocketed that question for a time when Sakusa seemed comfortable enough to talk.

Occasionally he read something that would immediately bring forth a memory. He read about aversion to social events, and remembered all of the times Sakusa had refused to go out with Bokuto, Shouyou and himself if the place was unfamiliar. His avoidance of physical touch was known and accepted amongst the people who knew Sakusa, but Atsumu was sure most of them just thought it was him being disgusted by germs, not the fault of a phobia that was, at its worst, uncontrollable.

Putting aside his whirring thoughts of concerns and curiosities, Atsumu picked up his phone and dialed Osamu.

“Thank you for calling the gay crisis hotline, how can I help you?” A flat voice answered. 

“Fuck off gremlin.”

He heard a faint laugh echo from his phone’s speakers and then the sound of the other one being pressed up against a new ear.

“What’s up, ‘Tsumu?” Osamu’s voice replaced Suna’s.

“I am calling on my dearest, most valued and adored brother to help me in my time of great need.”

He could almost hear the roll of Osamu’s eyes, “Go on, what do you want.”

“Because you love me very, very much and I’m your favourite brother-”

“You’re not.”

“Hey! You don’t even have another to choose from.”

“You’re still not.”

“I’m sticking my tongue out at you right now.”

“Well put it back in and finish the question.”

“Is there any chance I could use the store after closing on Tuesday? I’ll just need you to put aside some onigiri before you leave and I’ll leave the place clean and sparkling!” 

Osamu sighed in exasperation, pausing a moment before giving his answer, “What onigiri did you want me to leave?”

“Three tuna and three umeboshi?”

“Fine. You owe me”

“Yes! Thank you!”

-

The sun had set and Atsumu was still putting off the task of texting Sakusa to ask if he would like to meet at Onigiri Miya Tuesday night.

He hated it, knowing that time was running out and Sakusa could make other plans, knowing that it was a task that would take a minute at the very most, knowing that all it took was a few taps and it would be done, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The fear of Sakusa’s rejection was bad tonight.

Atsumu knew that Sakusa was still upset, and rightfully so, but he also knew that Sakusa was mature and dependable, and that he told Atsumu why he was in the therapist’s office at his own will.

He couldn’t help but think of that as a metaphorical olive branch, a communication of mutual understanding and the freedom that came with being able to open up. But Atsumu was aware that he could, more than easily, get ahead of himself and see things in a different light to those around him.

He wondered if Sakusa looked into ADHD just as he did with Mysophobia, but dismissed that thought by telling himself Sakusa probably didn’t care that much. Most people carried the basic, incorrect knowledge that ADHD was a disorder for misbehaved little boys and left it at that, Sakusa probably didn’t want to research any further if he had that impression.

Atsumu let out a shaky breath and opened the message app on his phone, he then typed his tenth draft of the day.

Before he could think twice, Atsumu shut his eyes and pressed where he knew the send button was, he kept them closed for a few moments before opening them and reading the message he had just sent, flushed with embarrassment.

Atsumu : Hey, Omi ʕ*ﾉᴥﾉʔ I know you haven’t forgiven me and that’s cool, I haven’t forgiven myself either. I tried to educate myself about you today, I’m very glad you told me ^-^ Do you remember Onigiri Miya, my brother’s place? You’ve been there with us before! If you’re free Tuesday night, would you like to come with me? Just to talk? He said I could use it after closing at 9 so there’ll be no other customers, and I promise it’ll be clean (*^-°)/ Let me know! It’s fine if you don’t want to though, I really do understand!

It took a very surprisingly short amount of time for Sakusa to reply, and Atsumu nearly threw his phone into the wall from shock and anxiety when he felt it vibrate.

Sakusa : I appreciate that you took time to learn about it, I did the same for you. What time should I meet you at Onigiri Miya?

Atsumu’s face was decorated with one of the largest and sincerest smiles that he had worn in quite a while.

Atsumu : Thank you! {*≧∀≦} 10 Would be good!

Sakusa : I will see you then, Miya.

Atsumu dropped the phone onto his bed and flopped down beside it in a manner that could only be described as that of a teenage girl in a shoujo manga.

He fell asleep that night thinking about how he could possibly thank Bokuto and Shouyou for their attempt at an intervention.

-

Two days later, Miya Atsumu found himself standing in front of his brother’s onigiri store at exactly 9pm.

Training had gone well that day, incredibly well, Atsumu felt confident, relaxed and a smile adorned his face for the entirety of the session. Bokuto and Hinata fed off of his uncontainable, positive energy and the three of them bounced around happily, making jokes, quips and having the type of fun that only seemed to bring positive reactions from others, instead of the annoyance he had become used to.

Perhaps that was just his own perception, but it didn’t matter. He had fun, they had fun, and even Sakusa seemed to have softened around the edges.

Ah, Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Atsumu’s body was jittery with nerves in anticipation for the night he was about to spend with said man. It wasn’t only the fact that he was meeting with Sakusa that put him on edge though, that only made up a small percentage of the anxiety that was making him feel sick to his stomach.

It was primarily from the fact that he had to talk about it.

His mind began to race with possible scenarios and reactions, ways Sakusa could react, things he could say, the way he would feel about Atsumu afterward. It sped up and up, the thoughts racing and new ones generated by the second when he was interrupted by the abrupt sound of the door in front of him opening.

“Oi, ‘Tsumu, did you forget how to open doors or something?”

Atsumu flipped Osamu off and walked inside after him.

Osamu headed toward the kitchen, likely to make the umeboshi and tuna onigiri Atsumu had requested, and Atsumu walked in the same direction toward where the cutlery, dishes and table condiments were kept.

He brought two plates, two sets of cutlery and the necessary condiments to his favourite corner table and laid them out neatly, putting perhaps a bit too much effort than was required into the table’s presentation.

“Whipped!” He heard his brother call from behind him with a whistle, and he turned to Osamu with flushed cheeks.

“I told him about my ADHD, ‘Samu, he told me why he was there too, we’re talking about that tonight, it’s not a date.” The words came out with a shaky exhale.

“Oh, oh shit.” Osamu began to speed walk over from his onigiri forming station.

Atsumu nodded and Osamu ran his hands up and down the length of his brother’s arm in a soothing motion.

“Are you okay, ‘Tsumu?” He asked quietly, “Are you sure you want to talk to him about it?”

Atsumu steadied himself with a long inhale, “Yeah, I do. I trust him, and it’s not bad to open up, it’s nice to have people who understand, or who make an effort to, at least.”

Osamu smiled softly and let go of his arm, “Okay, I’m happy for you then. Good luck.”

Atsumu gave him a gratuitous smile before his brother went back to making the onigiri.

After fixing the cutlery one last time and making sure the chairs were positioned perfectly, Atsumu headed over to the store’s cleaning product cabinet, where he squatted down and began to rummage through the contents.

“Should I be worried that you’re neck deep in a cabinet of cleaning products?”

Osamu’s sudden voice from behind him caused him to jump and hit his head, he yelped and reached back blindly to hit Osamu on the leg.

He ignored the body behind him and continued to scrutinise the labels of each product, looking desperately for something he recognised.

A few minutes later, this attempt was proven a failure and he groaned in frustration and slowly pulled himself out, turning to face Osamu with puppy dog eyes.

Osamu just raised his eyebrows in return.

“Could you get all of the surface and antibacterial products out for me, by any chance?” The puppy dog eyes were still going strong, “They’ll be back in their places when you come in tomorrow morning, promise!”

“Am I allowed to ask questions?”

“Nope!” Atsumu responded cheerfully.

Osamu rolled his eyes but knelt on the floor to sift through the products anyway.

About thirty different bottles, wipes, and sprays were on the floor at Atsumu’s feet when Osamu finally got back up, he stretched his back and turned to face his brother. “I won’t ask, but these better be back when I open tomorrow.”

Atsumu winked and pumped his fist in glee, “Thank you! I knew you were my favourite brother for a reason.”

Osamu walked past him and reached out to place a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder “I know. Call me tonight if you need me, okay?”

Atsumu nodded, “Of course, thank you ‘Samu, this does mean a lot. I owe you.”

His brother said a quick goodbye and left through the staff door with a wave.

Twenty minutes later, Atsumu heard the unmistakable sound of Sakusa’s car in the lot and took one last glance at their table and the ridiculous, over-the-top setup of cleaning products on the table beside it before making his way toward the entrance to greet Sakusa.

Chapter Text

The outline of Sakusa’s intimidating shape became visible as he walked from his sleek, black car toward the entrance of Onigiri Miya.

Atsumu had to momentarily turn his head away to calm the consequential landslide of thoughts.

He opened the door when Sakusa was a few steps away and with the newfound clarity from proximity, noticed that Sakusa was sans mask. It was the first time Atsumu had seen him enter a place outside of practice without a mask on initially and he reeled in mild shock.

Sakusa walked in hesitantly, not quite suspiciously but close to, and offered him a shy smile, successfully dragging Atsumu’s thoughts from conspiracies about the mask’s absence.

“Hey, thanks for coming Omi!” Atsumu greeted him, and returned the happy expression with a much more exaggerated one of his own.

Sakusa slightly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, “That’s okay, and I appreciate the invite.”

Atsumu gestured for Sakusa to follow him and turned toward the two tables he had set for them. The need for an outburst of the excited and nervous energy building within him grew once he was no longer facing Sakusa, and he clenched and unclenched his fist, blinked hard, and dug his nails into the palm of his hand in an effort to retain a semblance of control.

He heard a sudden intake of breath, almost identical to the one he had heard a couple of weeks prior in the theory training session, and spun his body back to Sakusa.

Colour was beginning to blossom on Sakusa’s cheeks and his eyes were blown wide, “Sorry,” it came out as a whisper, “I saw you do that a while ago and it drew blood, I-” He paused and stumbled over his words for a few seconds, “I can’t handle seeing someone else’s blood so close to me.”

“Oh!” Atsumu gasped, “Of course! Shit! Sorry! I should have known that, with the fear of contamination and disease, I won’t do it again, I should have fucking known that, sorry.”

Sakusa gave a tense nod.

Atsumu gulped and, although mentally screaming at himself, bit down the nerves and shuffled to the side so that Sakusa now had a view of the table. “I know i’ve probably messed it up now anyway, but I thought that being able to clean the table and seats and stuff yourself might help… so” he gestured toward the table next to theirs with a wave of his hand.

Time slowed.

Atsumu held his breath as Sakusa’s eyes darted from the table to him, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until eventually they reached their final destination, Atsumu’s slightly lightheaded self.

Atsumu exhaled, and Sakusa blinked.

“Why?” Sakusa’s expression was eerily reminiscent of the one he wore when Atsumu had first seen him in their therapist’s office.

Atsumu looked down in embarrassment. “I wanted to make sure you were comfortable, I know it’s a bit excessive-” Sakusa raised his eyebrows at this, as if to say a bit ?! “But I just wanted to make sure you were okay and everything. Sorry if it’s too much.”

Sakusa squeezed his eyes shut so hard it looked almost painful, Atsumu was filled with concern and worry until he opened them again, “That’s very sweet, Miya, I think you’re more considerate than I have given you credit for.”

Atsumu gave him an awkward, overemphasized thumbs up and took a few steps to the side, maneuvering his body between two tables to allow Sakusa to pass him without fear of contact. He then motioned toward the table with a flourish of his arm, “Well then, clean until your heart's content, Omi-Omi!”

The slight upturn of Sakusa’s rose lips was unmistakable as his attention slid from the table toward his left, where Atsumu stood, he looked up with a discernible emotion behind his eyes, a positive one, and let his smile blossom.

By all common standards it wasn’t a laugh, it was a puff of air and a smile.

Atsumu knew Sakusa well enough to know that common standards had never applied to him.

He gave a playful wink in return and didn’t move his focus from Sakusa when the other man approached the excessive display of colourful, jarring cleaning supplies, quite a feat considering Atsumu’s usual attention span.

Sakusa paused for a moment to stare at the somewhat comical table of supplies. Atsumu continued to watch as he whispered something incomprehensible to himself and stepped forward, his legs bending at the knees to allow for a closer view. Sakusa used his eyes to study label after label, and Atsumu found himself filled with wonder.

The twists and turns of Sakusa’s torso and the analytical movement of his eyes became background visuals to Atsumu. His mind inevitably fell upon thoughts of admiration in regards to Sakusa’s ability to sift through the display of at least thirty cleaning products, scan each one, read the label, occasionally let Atsumu know if he recognised one, and then most-often set that particular one aside with a gloved hand.

He vaguely registered Sakusa’s hesitant movement toward the table set for a meal, but was too far lost in his own brain to think anything of it.

Sakusa’s movements were rhythmic and orderly, he made his way around the table in the type of dance only a dancer who had spent their entire life practicing could perform. The delicate, swift, routine motions of his hands, arms and body lulled Atsumu further into his own thoughts.

It was only the familiar scrape of a chair against the floor of Onigiri Miya that drew him out of his reverie.

He shook his head and blinked to refocus his eyes before letting them settle on Sakusa, who was standing with a small pile of used antibacterial wipes on the table beside him, a spray bottle in one hand, and a pale blue kitchen towel in the other.

“Could you show me where these go? It’s all done.”

Atsumu just waved him off, “Don’t worry Omi, I’ve got you.”

He scooped an armful from the table and began to carry the assortment of products back to their supply cupboard.

-

The initial, light air of playfulness and gratitude had been replaced by a heavy, thick, suffocating air of tension and worry.

Sakusa was already seated when Atsumu came back with the plate of six onigiri that Osamu had prepared an hour or so earlier, he placed it in the centre of the table with caution before proceeding to move around and pull out the opposite seat.

Atsumu took quick notice of the fact that Sakusa’s eyes were void of emotion and his gaze lay unwavering on a poster taped to the wall.

“Omi,” He spoke up in an attempt to get the other man’s attention. “You okay?”

Sakusa blinked hard, but his facial expression remained wholly undecipherable. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

Atsumu nodded in understanding, but couldn’t bring himself to give up, “Yes or no would do, you don’t have to explain anything.”

That sentence broke the trance-like mask that sat atop Sakusa’s face and he sighed in resignation, bowing his head. “Yes, I’m okay, being able to do my ritual was very calming, it was more helpful than you probably know, thank you.”

Atsumu gave him a teasing smile, “So, are you going to be the first to break and share all of your deepest, darkest secrets, or will that be me?”

“I’ll leave the honours to you.” Sakusa interrupted himself to pull a large plastic bag from the black leather tote beside him, “But before you do that, I should give you this.”

Atsumu eyed the bag with curiosity when it was thrust into his face by Sakusa, and he apprehensively picked it up. Inside was a medium-sized planner and Atsumu let out an uncontrollable noise of excitement when he noticed the design that was printed onto the planner.

The background was a simple black, but a variety of little cartoon foxes decorated the cover. There was a white, triangular fox that looked almost remarkably identical to Kita if he were a cartoon fox, which evoked a small laugh from Atsumu, the rest were a mixture of red and brown foxes, and although none bore a resemblance to his former captain, they were all just as adorable as the first.

“A few ADHD blogs said that planners helped with organisation and memory, and I thought you’d like the design.”

He cradled the planner to his chest and offered Sakusa a smile brimming with sunshine, “Omi-Omiii! I am mentally giving you a gigantic hug right now.”

Sakusa’s eyes were locked on the planner in Atsumu’s arms when he responded with a flat tone, “I am mentally slapping you for that.”

Atsumu shrugged the response off with a laugh and a roll of his eyes.

Floating in the daze of happiness that came from Sakusa’s gift, Atsumu lost control of his mind for a second too long and the question that had been waiting on the tip of his lips all evening came tumbling out with no remorse, “Hey, why do you play volleyball?”

Sakusa physically pulled back in shock, but came back to himself in a matter of seconds and responded with composure, as if he had expected something like this. “My parents opted for exposure therapy when I was younger, they read something online about the benefits of giving me no choice but to confront my anxieties. It was terrifying, I don’t remember an awful lot but I know that it was terrifying, and that most things didn’t change. Food markets and public seating still send shivers down my spine, hah.” That was a pitiful attempt at humor at best, so they both moved along like the words were never spoken, “We were in middle school and Komori and his family were over for dinner one evening, his mother was gushing to mine about his newfound love for volleyball and how wonderful the team was, when it happened. I remember exactly how my mother’s eyes looked when they lit up with the idea of making me join, a new attempt at exposure therapy and forcing me to socialise? She thought it was perfect. I cried and locked myself in my room for the rest of the night.”

Atsumu had begun fiddling with chopsticks about halfway through Sakusa’s spiel, but the sudden disappearance of his familiar voice made Atsumu drop them with a thud and flush with guilt.

Sakusa frowned in momentary confusion before he realised what had happened, and, in an uncharacteristic act of impulse, reached over with his own chopsticks and used one to nudge Atsumu’s closer to the other man, “I don’t mind if you do that, Miya, I know you were listening.”

Atsumu looked down with a fond smile, and nodded feverishly when he heard Sakusa’s second statement. “I’m very sorry to little Omi that you went through that, it sounds shit. I’d be lying if I said I was unhappy that your mother made that final decision, though. I’m happy that you started volleyball and I am really happy that we’re playing with the team we are now, I’m glad that volleyball did something, and I’m so fucking happy you can play despite this.” He tapped the side of his head.

Sakusa offered a soft, private smile in response, “Thank you, I appreciate that. Can I ask you the same question?”

“Of course!” Atsumu took hold of the chopsticks once again and tilted his head toward the ceiling, taking a short while to gather his thoughts.

“I was a super annoying kid, loud and disruptive, not that that’s changed too much,” He let out a self-deprecating huff of laughter, but Sakusa levelled him with a firm stare, “My mother tried to enrol me in almost all the sports you can think to try and get me to burn some energy, I refused to participate in any without ‘Samu though, she was furious. I’m sure I drove both her and Samu mad for ages there, for months I begged him to join me in something so that she would stop being upset. In the end, he decided volleyball wouldn’t be too bad. We’ve been-”

Atsumu froze. Sakusa did too.

“-We played together until the end of high school. Fuck. I still mess that up sometimes, don’t know how I forgot he quit when I’m literally sitting in his store.”

Sakusa’s look of concern was ignored by Atsumu.

“So that’s why I started. It’s hard sometimes, you know how I am with noise distractions, but it’s an outlet now. Volleyball is one of the least ADHD-affected things in my life, it’s comfortable and safe, y’know? The Inarizaki gymnasium often felt like the only place at school where I wasn’t constantly being yelled at or punished.”

“I understand. The Itachiyama gymnasium was horrifying at first, I had finally begun to feel okay inside my middle school gymnasium when I moved on to high school, and I nearly had to quit because I couldn’t deal with the new space, Komori wouldn’t have that though, he said that my wrists were too important to him.” Sakusa gestured to the space between the two of them. “And now here we are.”

Atsumu nodded, “Here we are.”

They then sat in a warm silence, allowing the words from the other to sink in, and processing the vulnerability of those words, until Atsumu stood up with a stretch of his arms.

He pointed a finger at the chopsticks laying on the table before Sakusa, “I’ll grab some replacements for those and then… onigiri time!”

-

Just as he was about to take a bite from his third and final tuna onigiri, Atsumu was struck by realisation.

He watched the other man as he finished his final umeboshi onigiri, the look on his face was, by Sakusa standards, comfortable, and he had just begun to openly discuss his thoughts and struggles with Atsumu.

He finished his own last onigiri and took a moment to quiet the noise of his brain.

“Sakusa?’ He addressed the other man warily, as if talking to a skittish animal, “I know you’re not like me, you shut down and hide when you’re overwhelmed, but I go into overdrive and make a scene, you confuse me, I’m pretty sure I confuse you, and I’d just like to say thanks for giving me the time of day to try and understand how you work.”

The soft lights of Onigiri Miya illuminated the exact moment Sakusa Kiyoomi’s expression fell from something light to the complete opposite. The warm glow was unsettling against the fright that covered his face, and the tension-hardened muscles beneath his skin were glaringly obvious.

He stood up at once, forcefully and seemingly without care for the clatter that followed.

Sakusa gulped, he stood motionless and his eyes touched on everything between the four walls of Onigiri Miya beside Atsumu “Where’s the sink. I need to wash these dishes, I need to clean them. Please.” His voice tiptoed the line between a beg and a question.

At once, dejection ran it’s slimy, miserable fingers down Atsumu’s spine.

“Oh..” There was a long, aching pause between his words, and he mustered all of the effort he could to raise one finger in the direction of the sink. “Yeah, just over there.”

Rationally, he knew that Sakusa didn’t control these urges and it would only cause distress if Atsumu told him to stay at the table, but his mind was miles past rational thinking at this point.

He did nothing to hide the self pity written all over his face and the guilt threatening to drip from his eyes as he watched the back of Sakusa’s retreating form.

Atsumu could no longer see Sakusa, but the sustained pattern of water hitting the sink and water being disrupted on it’s way down, by what could only be Sakusa’s hand, was enough to let him know the other man was following his practiced and perfected routine.

Atsumu knew from his research that this was a self-soothing method for sufferers of Mysophobia, so he decided to sit, restless and submerged in his own gloom, for as long as Sakusa needed. 

-

The time Sakusa needed turned out to be 20 minutes, almost exactly.

His head was hung low and his hands were buried deep in his pockets as he made small steps toward their table, toward Atsumu.

Atsumu looked away while Sakusa used a gloved hand to gingerly reposition the chair and sit down. His body language was meek and timid, and it served as an almost comedic juxtaposition to the way he had stood up, Atsumu had to hold himself back from releasing a bout of dry laughter at the thought.

“That was dramatic.” Sakusa’s voice was robotic, rehearsed. “I would like to apologise.”

Atsumu nodded absentmindedly, he was listening, but he was also preoccupied by the growing, rapid storm of thoughts concerning the fact that Sakusa had wanted to be out of his presence so desperately.

“I’m not used to people understanding me, let alone putting effort into trying. I need you to know that I’ve reflected upon our differing communication styles myself, many times, so I have no place to be upset with you. It was just overwhelming.”

“I’m sorry too, then. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.” The apology was only uttered, but Atsumu’s voice was heavy with misery, haunted by years of being told he was too much.

Sakusa shook his head, “I don’t accept your apology, I already knew that you tend to speak your thoughts in a way that I can’t, so it’s not your fault that I got overwhelmed.”

Atsumu cocked his head and was about to make a comment in retaliation when he was interrupted by Sakusa’s voice, this time slightly louder.

“You let me do what I needed to put myself at ease, Miya. Thank you.”

Atsumu finally exhaled in relief. “Of course I did, Omi! I’m not evil, y’know.”

Sakusa nodded slowly in a display of faux suspicion.

“Oi!” Atsumu called out, “I’m not! ‘Samu’s the evil twin, thank you very much.”

“I’m sure he is.”

“He is! And you’re even worse, so you can’t weigh in on this.”

“Am I?”

“Omi-kun, in the nicest way possible, I’m definitely going to have to tell my therapist tomorrow that…” Atsumu paused himself and let the sentence trail off on it’s own after realising that the next words would most-likely achieve nothing besides hurting Sakusa.

Sakusa didn’t notice, he was focused on something else. “You’re going to be there tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu’s demeanor dampened once he came to the realisation that their conversation had officially moved onto therapy, “I don’t want to, but I’m supposed to go monthly, have to wake up early for it and everything.”

Sakusa’s eyes swept over the store before returning to Atsumu. “It’s probably time we clean up and leave then.”

“Yeah.” Atsumu sighed. 

-

Atsumu didn’t waste time sinking into his bed that night, he allowed his sorrowful body to be hugged by the familiar scent and warmth of his covers, and huddled into the embrace.

From an onlooker’s perspective, the only indication that he was awake for the next two hours was the sound of subdued, muted sniffles and an occasional sob.

Toward the end of his crying session, Atsumu reached for his phone from under his pillow and tapped the screen a few times.

“Kita-san…” his voice came out broken and whiney, “I really need your help.”

-

Miya Atsumu felt completely and utterly awful.

At 7 A.M., he had woken up to the piercing sound of his alarm bounding through his brain from ear to ear.

He had then told himself he could have a few minutes to bask in the comfort and warmth of his covers, he deserved it before a therapy session, was the justification.

At 8 A.M., he threw aside his previous plan for a big breakfast and instead chose to put together a quick protein shake before leaving his house when it was time.

At 9 A.M., he decided that he could probably get away with skipping a shower if he used enough deodorant, and decided to stay in bed for a small while longer.

At 10 A.M., his phone lit up and buzzed with a text notification.

Sakusa : Miya. I am texting to see if you’re awake. Last night you told me that you didn’t want to go to your appointment and I know you sometimes avoid things you don’t want to do. Sorry if this is invasive.

Atsumu furiously blinked back tears of frustration at himself, and at Sakusa for putting even more pressure on him.

Atsumu : Let Tou-san know that I said hello, please!

Sakusa : Excuse me?

Sakusa : ??

Atsumu : Oh, sorry, I thought I was talking to my mother -_-

Sakusa : You told me your appointment was at 11, that is in less than an hour.

Atsumu : I am absolutely shocked that you understand how time works.

Sakusa : ??

Sakusa : Are you leaving for your appointment, Miya?

Atsumu : Fuck off, Omi. Not now okay?

Sakusa : Are you getting ready?

Atsumu : Unless you’re asking to find out whether I’m wearing clothes or not, leave me alone.

Sakusa : I am not sexting you.

Atsumu groaned and ran sweaty hands through his knotted hair, of course he had to spend his entire morning thinking of ways to avoid getting out of bed, now he’s done nothing but lay there for fucking hours.

A quick look at his phone confirmed that there was no longer a chance of being able to get to his appointment on time, with the fact that the office was half an hour away and his session should start in twenty minutes. 

He swore and flung a pillow at the wall, he was teetering on the edge of falling further into this hole of rage when the familiar chime of his ringtone sounded from his phone, successfully snapping him out of it.

He saw the caller ID and let it ring for a short while as he frantically tried to compare the pros and cons of answering, in the end he gave up and tapped his thumb against the answer button.

“What.” Atsumu sounded like shit, his voice was still scratchy and it was clear he hadn’t had a productive morning.

“Get dressed, My appointment is at 12 and you’re coming with me so I can make sure you book a new one in the next few days.”

Atsumu looked down at his phone in disbelief. “Very cool, thank you, Omi. I completely refuse to do that, though.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer. See you in twenty.”

Chapter Text

Atsumu yelped as his body hit the hard floor.

Dammit ‘Tsumu, for the last time, remember to take your fucking socks off before running on the floorboards.

He winced as he heaved himself back up, and winced harder when he thought about why he was speeding through his apartment in the first place.

Sakusa’s reaction to Atsumu having missed his appointment was a peculiar combination of familiar and foreign. His stubbornness and the mild apathy that came across through his words wasn’t unexpected in the slightest, but the fact that he acknowledged Atsumu’s struggles and wellbeing was almost startling.

Atsumu brushed himself off and carefully speed-walked to the bathroom.

The steam from his shower cast a hazy, light film over the bathroom and Atsumu stood still in the midst of it, revelling in the soft warmth as it seeped beneath his skin.

Ironically, the steam successfully cleared a large amount of the fog cloaking his brain, and he found himself gifted with clarity.

Atsumu, still in place, gave himself one last chance to consider the step he was about to take. It would have been almost laughably easy to shut the door in Sakusa’s face, to ignore his existence, to send him off with a clear, harsh message to stop babying him, and to put a definitive end to the juvenile, humiliating charade.

But it was Sakusa Kiyoomi, it was Sakusa Kiyoomi who had gone out of his way to show that he cared for Atsumu’s mental state in the weirdest, most confusing, most Sakusa Kiyoomi way imaginable.

It was Sakusa Kiyoomi who had remembered the specific things Atsumu struggled with, it was Sakusa Kiyoomi who had seen through him as if he were thin, fragile glass when Atsumu tried to use an avoidance technique that had never once failed him against non-family members.

It was Sakusa Kiyoomi who was going to be standing at his door in precisely fifteen minutes, seemingly apathetic and stern but all the while demanding Atsumu take care of himself.

A whispered string of words fell from his lips, one that could be deciphered as either a prayer or a curse.

Miya Atsumu stepped into the shower, and began to clean himself up.

-

Knock, knock, knock.

As punctual as ever, Sakusa gave three sharp knocks on Atsumu’s door at exactly the time promised.

The sound alone sent venomous dread pulsing through Atsumu’s veins.

He looked over himself in his wardrobe mirror one last time, let his eyes sweep over the outfit he had picked, the hair he had styled, and the posture he stood with.

It took forty seconds for him to cross the apartment and reach the front door.

He employed all of the willpower he could find when Sakusa became visible, so that he wouldn’t slam his door in the other man’s face.

Sakusa stood there like a smug bastard. His usual dead expression was decorated with a tiny, almost invisible smile and it made Atsumu furious .

He stood like he hadn’t just invaded all of Atsumu’s boundaries.

Atsumu’s face twisted into an ugly glare “Piss off.”

Sakusa’s face didn’t move. “It is important not to miss sessions, I’m concerned about you.”

Atsumu’s face heated, his expression got uglier. “You’re not my family, you’re not my friend, I felt bad for violating your privacy and here you are, doing this to me. Go away Omi.”

Sakusa’s flinch would have been missed by a single blink, “Miya-”

“Who do you think you are, huh?” He made a noise somewhere between a growl and a groan. “Maybe I didn't get up because I felt sick, did you think about that? And anyway, I’m perfectly capable of setting my own appointment, you’re treating me like I'm a damn child!”

“I’m not treating you like a child. I know it sets me back when I miss a session and I have done enough research to know you will inevitably feel guilty for putting things off, like you did this morning.”

“Stop talking like you know everything about me!”

“I know you researched my-” Sakusa paused for a second to take a breath. “My mysophobia too. We have had a whole discussion about this, Miya.”

Atsumu’s voice rose with each word. “I didn’t think you would start coming to my place and babying me whenever I wasn’t dealing with it perfectly!”

“I wanted to help you.”

“I am an adult, Omi. I don’t need your damn help because I missed one appointment.”

Sakusa sighed and stared at him, expressionless and soundless.

“All of this babying and you’re about to miss your own fucking appointment, hah.” The short laugh was filled with anger.  “Just leave and mind your business, Omi.”

Sakusa tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as if he were trying to read Atsumu. “I’m quite sure you were in bed when I called, but now you’re dressed and showered.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is it not normal to shower and get dressed in the morning anymore?”

Sakusa wedged his shoe-covered foot in the door to stop Atsumu from slamming it in his face, Atsumu rolled his eyes.

“You got ready, Miya. Just come with me and I won’t bother you, we have five minutes before we need to leave.”

“Stop being so desperate. It’s creepy that you care this much.”

Sakusa raised his eyebrows and blinked, “You’re forgetting that I have to deal with you on most days of the week. You’re helping other people by getting help yourself.”

Atsumu suddenly wanted to throw up, the blood drained from his face and his eyes turned to liquid. “Fuck. You.”

He went to slam the door.

It happened in less than a second, Sakusa’s ungloved hand flew out on reflex and it was already too late, Atsumu watched as his skin came into contact with the door and Sakusa’s entire body seemed to withdraw into itself.

“Oh my god.” Atsumu muttered while Sakusa’s eyes started to glaze over in panic. “You’re an idiot.”

Sakusa didn’t respond, but his eyes lost their look of lucidity and Atsumu found himself running toward his kitchen on instinct. He picked up the bottle of generic sanitiser from the cleaning cabinet and some hand cream from his bench before jogging back to his front door.

Sakusa was shivering where he stood, Atsumu recognised the panic attack even though it was different from his own occasional explosive ones.

He was frantically searching his mind for a single idea of what to do when he remembered the phone sitting in his back pocket. He pulled it out, fumbling slightly from panic, and entered the password before opening his contacts, where he searched for the information of his therapist’s office and clicked the number without a second thought.

It didn’t ring for long before the receptionist picked up.

Atsumu kept an eye on Sakusa as he explained to the receptionist that he was calling on behalf of the other man and that they would be about ten minutes late, she took note, thanked him and the call ended.

Usually, he would have found it ridiculous that he could call on behalf of Sakusa to let them know he was running late without a moment's hesitation, but the thought of calling in or even running late for his own appointment was overwhelming enough to make him ignore it as a whole.

At that time, however, his thoughts were too consumed by worry to think about anything else.

He checked the time on his phone before sliding it back into his pocket.

“Omi?”

The only response from Sakusa was slight movement in his jaw, but no words came out.

Atsumu wordlessly held his hand out in front of Sakusa, close enough that he could see the sanitiser and hand cream Atsumu was offering, but far enough that it shouldn’t feel like an invasion of space.

He watched as Sakusa nodded to himself, still staring at a specific point on the floor, and reached for the small bottle of sanitiser.

He continued to watch as Sakusa started applying the sanitiser in uniform, routine motions, his eyes remained still, but the shivers mellowed a little.

Atsumu let himself breathe.

While Sakusa was going through his carefully-refined routine, Atsumu busied himself by making sure he had all of the necessities for leaving the house on him and proceeding to lock the door.

He waited patiently beside Sakusa for a couple of minutes before he started to get restless. He slowly began to crouch down and was about to seat himself on the floor when a firm voice came from above.

“Don’t-” A pause, a deep breath. “Please don’t sit down.”

Atsumu looked up, waiting on an elaboration, but when there was no further explanation he slowly nodded and rose from his crouched position with a grunt.

It wasn’t until he was standing that Sakusa spoke up again.

“Shoes visit more places than their owner could probably ever know, they collect germs from all of those places and are rarely washed. I would rather you not expose yourself to that large, unknown number of germs, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course, ‘Omi.” Atsumu followed with his brightest grin.

Sakusa looked away, and the following silence was tense before he broke it.

“I’m definitely late. I’ll leave now, thank you for calling them for me, Miya. I will make it up to you another time.”

Atsumu shook his head. “There’s no way you’re leaving without me after all of that.”

Sakusa’s face scrunched in clear confusion. “No. You didn’t want to come. I am sorry for trying to force you and then for panicking on your doorstep. But thank you for helping, I owe you.”

“You’re an idiot. I clearly got ready for you, I was just pissed.”

“I insulted you and tried to force you to come with me, I don’t want you to come because you feel bad about what just happened.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes. “Never mind the fact that I insulted you first, and that we both know I was going to come anyway, there’s no way I’m letting you drive while you’re still shaken up.”

Sakusa frowned. “Miya.”

Atsumu stuck his tongue out. “Omi-omi.”

And that was settled.

-

After being dragged in to book an appointment in two days time under the watchful eye of Sakusa, the other man seemed to have taken pity on him and told Atsumu to go sit in his car, so that he wouldn’t have to wait around in a place that put him on edge.

Which meant that Atsumu was alone in Sakusa’s car, and his mind was overflowing with questions.

The main one being, why on earth was Sakusa so willing to let him sit there, just so that Atsumu didn’t have to be inside, when everyone knew how sacred Sakusa’s personal areas and belongings were? When he was so wary of absolutely anything in his space?

He became restless with questions and thoughts surrounding Sakusa, but focused all of his energy into not snooping, not invading Sakusa’s space, not breaking his trust.

He sat back and tried his best to refrain from doing anything that could cause the other man to get pissed off at him.

It was a challenge, but Atsumu was strong.

-

Atsumu turned his head to face the front window of the car in an attempt to trick Sakusa into thinking he was looking away, but his eyes slid to the side so that he had a view of the other man, who was now sporting a pair of gloves, probably given to him by the therapist.

He pretended not to watch as Sakusa made small facial expressions to himself, clearly deliberating over something Atsumu wasn’t aware of.

Atsumu waited for minutes before Sakusa pulled the door open. He didn’t make a move to enter, however, instead he just stared right at Atsumu, face as blank as a sheet of paper.

Atsumu raised his eyebrows in question.

Sakusa stared.

“Your car hand sanitiser smells bad.” Was the first thing that came to Atsumu’s mind, inevitably it came out of his mouth.

“Okay.” Sakusa said.

“Okay.” Atsumu replied.

“I’m driving.” Sakusa’s voice was still as flat as his expression.

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Atsumu questioned.

“This is my car.” To the un-Sakusa-trained-ear, that would have been just as expressionless, but Atsumu picked up on the unimpressed tinge to his voice.

“Hey! I’m just checking!” Atsumu unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out of the driver’s side door.

Atsumu closed the door to the passenger’s side, Sakusa closed the door to the driver’s side, and then they sat in probably the most awkward silence of Atsumu’s life.

And he had known Suna Rintarou since high school.

To busy himself, he let his eyes wander over the interior of the car. This went on for a small while but he looked up from the cup holder when the feeling of another’s eyes on him became too much to handle.

He met Sakusa’s eyes and had to hold back a laugh at the situation. Once again, his eyes had caught on Sakusa’s in the middle of wandering, once again, they were at the therapist’s office, although this time in a car, and once again, Sakusa looked inhumanly tense.

“Are you laughing?”

“No.”

“Yes you are.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Go out with me.”

Both men were hit with sudden surprise.

“Excuse me?!”

“I.” Sakusa brought his knees up in front of the steering wheel and buried his face in them, uttering something unintelligible to Atsumu. When he spoke up again, his voice came out muffled. “Oh god, I meant would you like to go somewhere with me for the day. Not on a date, just a thank you.”

Atsumu hummed, lifting his hand to stroke at his chin in fake contemplation. “You know what? I think I will join you on this date, Omi-Omi!”

“It’s not a date!”

“Too late.” Atsumu stuck his tongue out at Sakusa for the second time that day.

Sakusa turned the radio up and Atsumu couldn’t hold back the eruption of resounding laughter that fell from his lips when the fluid sound of a Tchaikovsky piece began to float through the car.

Sakusa sighed and Atsumu threw his head back, letting his laughter weave through the classical notes.

-

Despite Atsumu’s teasing, Sakusa’s classical playlist served as a soundtrack for the entirety of their half hour drive.

Slowly, The scenery of blurred grey and blocks of colour merged into one of leafy flames, of beauty, of the burnt orange that decorated autumn trees.

Atsumu spent the drive looking out of his window, smiling at certain advertisements, squinting to try and get a better look at the outside world, cracking occasional jokes, and completely oblivious to Sakusa’s discreet glances.

Sakusa pulled over into a small, half-hidden parking lot behind a cluster of trees, and exhaled.

Atsumu took a moment to admire the golden leaves surrounding them before he hastily unbuckled his seatbelt, filled with childlike excitement to see what Sakusa had planned for the two of them.

Sakusa followed suit and stepped out of his door, his eyes also trailing over the expanse of glittering trees.

“Is this your secret romantic date spot, Omi?” Atsumu’s attempt at teasing was sabotaged by the happiness hovering over each syllable.

Sakusa walked around the car to meet Atsumu, “No.” He responded steadily. “I take Yuzu here sometimes, it’s my favourite walking spot. Minoo Park.”

Atsumu did a double take at his words “You take who here sometimes?”

“Yuzu.” Sakusa said calmly, as if that was someone Atsumu should definitely know about.

“Yuzu?” Atsumu asked again, to confirm.

“Yeah.” Sakusa’s lips turned into a soft smile. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before.”

“Sakusa,” Atsumu turned to look him in the eye. “I have played on the same team as you for over two years now and you have never once mentioned a Yuzu.”

“Oh. He’s my sister’s Shiba.” Sakusa kicked a small pebble with his shoe as they walked, “Once every few months I’ll have a good enough day that being around him, out in the open, is okay. Pleasant, even. She doesn’t live far so I like to walk him here.”

Atsumu watched him speak with admiration, his heart softening the more Sakusa spoke about something that made him happy.

“I can’t get one of my own, obviously, but taking him out occasionally when I’m doing well is nice. I like him.”

Atsumu nodded. “He sounds like a cool dog.”

“Yeah.” Sakusa hummed in thought. “I’ll introduce you one day.”

Atsumu smiled at him. “I’d like that, Omi.”

They walked side by side until they reached a main pathway lined with stores and dotted with couples milling about, talking, laughing, and taking in the scenery.

The sun reflected off the trees and created a soft, golden light that Atsumu could only describe as heavenly.

The way Sakusa’s dark hair was woven with glittering strands took Atsumu’s breath away, the lighting made him look like a god, shining and beautiful, and Atsumu felt nauseous with want.

“You look beautiful here, Omi.” The words escape before he could stop them.

Sakusa turned his gaze away from the stores and onto Atsumu, looking exasperated. “I told you this wasn’t a date, Miya.”

Atsumu laughed it off.

Sakusa swallowed and went back to reading the store signs.

They stood in a comfortable stillness, each looking at a different view and in no particular rush.

Sakusa broke the statuesque nature of their positions by pointing at one stall in particular and gesturing for Atsumu to walk with him. “Here, I’ll show you something.”

Atsumu nodded and followed eagerly, wondering what Sakusa could be heading toward.

The scent of tempura filled his nose as they walked closer, and Atsumu turned to Sakusa. “Are you feeding me, Omi?”

Sakusa huffed and waited until they were just a few steps from the front to show him what the stall was selling.

“It’s Maple Tempura, a tourist thing at this park, I thought you would like to try it. For fun.” Sakusa’s voice was a tiny bit less steady than usual, and Atsumu was almost tempted to say it sounded insecure.

“I’d love that, Omi-Omi! So thoughtful!”

Sakusa responded to his wide, shining grin with a guarded little smile. He reached into his pocket and shoved a 1000 Yen note into Atsumu’s hand with his own gloved one before Atsumu had the chance to reject it.

“You!” Atsumu stopped to process the mild shock. “You’re paying for my food! This is a date!”

“No.” Sakusa deadpanned.

Atsumu gave an exaggerated wink. “Oh yes, yes it is.”

“I forced you to come here, and I was awful to you this morning, so this is an apology.”

Atsumu responded with a long silence.

“Shut up. This isn’t a date.”

Chapter Text

Atsumu could feel Sakusa’s watching eyes on his body, and it took a significant amount of concentrated self-control not to turn around and tease the other man.

He asked for a serving of the maple tempura, handed over Sakusa’s money, put aside the thought that he felt like a nervous teenager on their first date, and accepted the food with grateful hands and a thank you.

He was tempted to taste the food right then and there, but held it carefully and walked back to Sakusa instead, his internal justification being that it would probably taste nicer once they’re sitting in a nice spot, perhaps conversing, then he can easily fool himself into thinking it’s a date.

Sakusa’s eyebrows were raised expectantly when Atsumu turned to look at him, Atsumu rolled his eyes in return and walked the few steps of space between them.

“Do you not want to eat it?” It was close to unnoticeable, but Sakusa’s usual hardened tone had softened around the edges, just a little.

Atsumu offered a sunlit smile, “Of course I do! We have to sit down first though, so I can savour it.”

Sakusa’s face did a weird thing. Although staying relatively straight, it managed to go through about nine different emotions (that Atsumu could count, at least). After a few seconds of odd facial muscle movements and twitches, it settled once again on a normal, neutral state.

“All good there, Omi-omi?”

“Shut up.”

Atsumu did, but the hint of smugness in his eyes didn’t leave.

Sakusa kicked a stone with his black sneaker and gestured ahead, to the large, picturesque, cascading waterfall, curtained on either side by an expanse of aureate leaves. The sunlight’s reflection upon the water created an illusion of rushing, molten gold and Atsumu appreciated it with awe, which took form as widened eyes and an open mouth.

“I was just going to suggest we go look closer,” Sakusa broke Atsumu’s focus on the waterfall, “Did you… did you not realise this was here?”

Atsumu shook his head, looking even more in disbelief than Sakusa. “I have no idea how I managed to overlook that.”

Sakusa turned his head back to the waterfall, but Atsumu didn’t miss his amused smile.

“Oi!” Atsumu crossed his arms and similarly shifted his focus toward the waterfall, “Leave me alone… I was distracted.”

“Mmhmm,” Sakusa hummed, still pointedly looking away.

Atsumu snuck a look at the man beside him, taking in the pink flush gracing his cheeks and the rare, playful smile on his lips. “I was very distracted.”

Sakusa’s gaze caught Atsumu’s from the corner of his eye. Neither of them made a move to drop the intense eye contact. Instead they stood in silence, bodies parallel and facing the waterfall before them, each man cloaked in a blanket of warm, gleaming sunlight, careful eyes trained on one another.

After about ten minutes of diverting his attention from the waterfall, to Sakusa, to the waterfall, and back to Sakusa again, accompanied by contemplative sighs from the aforementioned man every thirty seconds or so, Atsumu lifts his hand up with the forgotten maple tempura. “Alright Omi, should we go find a nice little date spot so that I can finally try this?”

The unfocused glaze over Sakusa’s eyes dissolved instantly when he looked over at Atsumu, “Oh, yeah, sure.”

Atsumu didn’t point out the fact that Sakusa failed to correct his use of the word date.

Neither of them made a move to leave. Atsumu didn’t know whether it was because they were basking in the gentle warmth of the earth and scenery, or if Sakusa was just thinking of which path to take. So he waited, patiently and quietly, as not to shatter the fragile pleasantness of that one specific shared moment in time.

Sakusa was the first to step away, he began to walk toward a worn-looking path that disappeared into the golden canvas that was the maple forest before them.

Atsumu followed automatically, and was hit with the fleeting thought that he could be a main character from one of the fantasy novels he used to love so much.

He slowed his pace and took a second to admire the artwork of a man leading him into the beautiful, shining, unknown.

Strands of light were woven through his hair, Atsumu thought, the sun draped itself over Sakusa’s shoulders, down his back, around his waist, it dressed him in the most regal, the most godlike of garments.

Until his head snapped back, face twisted in a silent question.

It frightened Atsumu in the same way a real painting coming alive probably would have.

He uttered an apology and jog-walked to catch up with Sakusa.

He was expecting a snarky comment, an insult, an eye roll, a noise of impatience, frustration, anything at all, but Sakusa remained almost suspiciously composed.

“Lead the way, Omi-omi!”

Sakusa nodded and resumed walking, although this time with Atsumu right beside him. The walk was leisurely, a far cry from their usual strenuous exercise, and they both took time to relax internally and in silence.

After a short while, the silence got too heavy for Atsumu to handle, so he ended it with a question. “Hey, Omi?”

“Yes?” There wasn’t a hint of irritation in his voice, which confused Atsumu to no end. For as long as he had known the ace, Sakusa had always been one to value and enjoy silence and tranquility, neither of which Atsumu was particularly good with.

“It feels like we’re in a painting, doesn’t it?” Atsumu asked, he knew Sakusa studied art history at university before joining the black jackals, so he figured it was a nice discussion topic, and he really wanted to hear Sakusa talk about art.

“It really does,” Sakusa said, his tone light. “I would love to be able to name a painting off of the top of my head to compare it to, but I can’t.”

Atsumu hummed, silently allowing Sakusa to further elaborate.

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Nature in itself is art, isn’t it? For example, I think that these leaves paint the drab canvas of Osaka in shades of gold, of opulence, today there are metallic brush strokes of sunlight over the bleak city, I think that the artist of this piece is whoever planted these trees, perhaps the artist is every person who woke up this morning and decided to clean up after themselves, to allow the scenery to flourish. I learnt a lot about traditional art at uni, artistic movements throughout history and all of that, but I think it’s important to remember that art is in everything, everyone.”

Atsumu lost the ability to speak, all he could do was stare.

“So, to answer your question, yes, it does feel like we’re in a painting, and I like to think that on some metaphorical, whimsical level, we are.”

“I wish you’d talk more.” Were the only words to make their way out of Atsumu’s mouth.

-

Sakusa laid out the plastic, thin picnic blanket that was tucked into his pocket in a tiny matching bag and sat down on it, craning his neck to look up at Atsumu, “Sorry I didn’t bring a second,” He apologised, squinting under the glare of the sun “I have another but I usually just do this type of thing myself, I didn’t think….”

Atsumu waved it off with a slight chuckle, “I’m fine with sitting on the grass, Omi-omi, don’t you worry about me.”

Sakusa nodded in acceptance and looked away from the sun while Atsumu crouched down and found a comfortable position on the grass.

After he made himself comfortable, Atsumu held up the bag his tempura maple leafs were in and opened it slowly, breathing in the confusing, yet sweet, scent.

He noticed Sakusa doing a similar thing from where he was sitting just under a metre away and smiled fondly. “I know you don’t want to try one, but would you like me to describe it to you? You paid for them, anyway.”

He hadn’t expected Sakusa to consider it at all, so it came as a mild surprise when Sakusa uttered “Oh, I would like that.”

So, like the whipped man he was, Atsumu went along with the request and described the taste and texture as he ate the first one, while Sakusa listened and watched on in interest.

Under the bright reflection, and surrounded by a halo of light, Sakusa turned into a deity. Atsumu thought it was quite humorous that a man like Sakusa would be interested in anything he had to say, let alone spending time with him, let alone listening to him describe, step-by-step, the experience of eating a fried leaf.

Atsumu suddenly understood the concept of having ‘butterflies in your stomach.’

He had it bad.

“Omi?”

“Miya?”

“I want to know more about you,” Atsumu explained earnestly, “I don’t think I know enough.”

Sakusa’s brows furrowed in confusion. “You know lots about me.”

“No. I know lots about you in relation to me. Does that make sense? Probably not” Atsumu rambled, “I want to know about you-you, in your own life, not me-you, the you I see in my life.”

Sakusa looked baffled, taken aback, and flustered all at once.

“I mean, I never shut up, do I? You know a lot about how I live when you’re not there. I don’t know any of that about you.”

Sakusa studied Atsumu’s face for a long, painful, while before offering a response. “I don’t like cooking, I go to the grocery store every Wednesday and Friday, I use mint body wash, I text Komori at least once a day, Komori texts me at least twice a day, I like doing the laundry, I like reading, but I can barely find the time for it, I have an older brother and an older sister, you might have known that already, I liked art history and every now and again I think I’d like to work in that field after my volleyball career, even though I know I probably won’t have to work, I think green tea is my favourite drink, and I like going for walks.”

Atsumu took a second to comprehend all of the information Sakusa just gave him, all of the mundane, domestic, everyday, information that Atsumu was so happy to know.

“It’s weird,” He replied, voice tinged with adoration “Thinking of you like that, as someone who just lives your everyday life like I do. Don’t take that personally. I guess I’d just become accustomed to robot-Omi.” Atsumu follows with a sheepish laugh.

“You do realise I live, and breathe, and sleep outside of volleyball, yes?”

“Well, yeah, of course. But it’s nice to hear what you do outside of volleyball, the normal stuff, it makes you seem more human? I worded that wrong. Reachable maybe? I’m not sure what I’m trying to say now, but it’s positive, I promise.”

Sakusa was about to turn away when Atsumu spoke again, “I feel like I know you on a different level now, not just about volleyball and therapy, it’s nice.”

Sakusa let out another of his contemplative sighs, except this time it was accompanied by flushed cheeks and avoidant eyes. “Don’t say things like that, Miya.”

“Like what?” Atsumu asked in bewilderment.

“That you want to know me, that you enjoy knowing things about me.”

“I do!”

“Miya…”

“We are sitting in a clearing, having a nice discussion, on an outing that is very close to a date, and you’re upset that I want to know you?”

“Don’t call it a date, please.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes, “Fine, but it is one and you can’t deny it.”

“Why do you want to know me?” Sakusa’s voice sounded almost breakable.

“Because I want to get to know you more as a person, as an individual.”

Sakusa let out a noise of exasperation. “You make this so, very hard, Miya Atsumu.”

“I don’t want to make things hard for you, but I have quite literally no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sakusa’s body tensed, and he looked down at the grass, hiding his face from Atsumu. “Do you like me?”

Atsumu, knowing Sakusa couldn’t see him, made an exaggerated face of surprise and held his hands up in alarm while his mind raced for a suitable answer.

He opted for telling the plain truth. “Yeah, since you joined MSBY.”

“Oh,” Sakusa said, “I win then.”

“Excuse me?!” Atsumu said, overcome with surprise and confusion.

“I’ve liked you since my first year of high school. When we played at nationals.”

“Omi..” Atsumu teased. “I don’t think that makes you the winner here.”

Sakusa raised his head. “Okay, yes, you have a point.”

Atsumu opened his mouth to speak but was quickly interrupted by Sakusa.

“No. Be quiet.”

“Yes, this is so a date!”

“It’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“No.”

“We are sitting in the clearing of a maple forest and you just confessed to me. This is a date.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is?!”

“You confessed first, anyway.”

“You asked me!”

“It’s not a date.”

“Why do you have such a big problem with going on a date with me?”

Sakusa let out another of his contemplative sighs. “Because we need to talk. I wanted to talk to you.”

Atsumu nodded slowly and backed down from the building argument, “Okay, alright, go on then.”

“I want to do things like this. Dates. With you.” Sakusa took a deep breath. “But first, I would like to ask that we establish a platonic relationship, I would like to learn how to understand you, to communicate with you, and I would like you to do the same for me, before we venture into anything romantic. I want to know you better, as yourself and I want you to know me better, as myself.”

Atsumu watched Sakusa speak with awe, with tender eyes and a gentle smile, in disbelief of how someone could possibly want to be that considerate of not only him, but also themselves.