Chapter Text
Sprained not broken, the pretty doctor at the little 24/7 urgent care around the corner from the training center had said. About two weeks in a stabilizing brace. No sports (not that Mai has any intentions of partaking in any physical activity anyways). No more jumping at people. Not for the foreseeable future, anyway.
Which leaves Mai on her couch in her apartment, staring at the ceiling with her foot propped up on a pillow. She can walk just fine, but there is a faint throbbing in her ankle at each step even almost a week after it happened.
That week – despite the fact that she hadn’t shown up at the training center at all, given her incapacitated state – had been spent thinking of the one and only Kiyoomi Sakusa. Specifically, the fact that he held her wrist and let her cry into his sleeve for a good 10 minutes before Atsumu deigned to show up with a bag of ice from God knows where.
No sharp comments about getting his shirt wet. No protests at the sound of her snotty-nosed sniffles. Just his thumb rubbing slow circles on her wrist and his strangely comforting presence.
The experience had been weirdly grounding. Like all of a sudden Mai had realized that maybe – just maybe – there is more to Kiyoomi than scowl-y antagonism and controversial Downton Abbey takes.
Mai exhales sharply, dropping her phone on her chest and frowning. Don’t even start considering him as anything more than the hot morally-questionable germaphobe he is – it could get ugly real fast. The sudden sounds of aggressive chirping from her balcony fortunately prevent any further thought in that direction.
Not again, she thinks, groaning to herself. What is it about my balcony that screams ‘great place to get stuck’ to small birds?
Like clockwork, Mai dials Atsumu’s number, who picks up within seconds. “Is your foot okay?” is the first thing she hears on the other end of the line, the second being a weird rushing sound.
“I’m okay. Where are you?”
More rushing. Like wind, or maybe rain, or water? “I’m at the beach,” Atsumu answers plainly, like it’s not still the middle of Winter.
“It’s February. What on God’s green earth convinced you to spend time on the beach in February?”
A pause, then laughing. “Oh, yeah, I guess that does sound kinda sketchy. It’s this photoshoot thing management is making me do for one of the sponsors. Electrolyte tea or something?”
Mai sighs. “So, I’m guessing you can’t come free a bird from my balcony again?”
Atsumu groans into the phone, the sound distorted by the rushing of wind in the background. “I thought I told you to put like a net or something over the railing, so they don’t get stuck there anymore.”
“I have the net. I just haven’t put it up yet.”
“Well, I’m in down in Misaki. It’s gonna be a while before I get back.”
“Is ‘Samu working today?”
A noncommittal grunt from the other end. “Yeah, ‘til late.”
Mai exhales, staring at her balcony door. If she could reach that part of the railing on her own, she’d just do it herself. But with her ankle being the way it is right now, she can’t even get up on a stool to try.
“I’ll send one of the guys your way,” Atsumu says cryptically, the rushing almost drowning out his voice.
Mai sits up a little straighter on her couch, eyeing the different types of snowflake patterns on her socks. “Like who? Meian? Oliver? Bokuto?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s not an answer, Atsumu. Who are you asking?”
He clears his throat. “Whoever’s available, I guess.”
Groaning into one of the many pillows on her couch, Mai flops back down on her back. “Whatever. Thanks, ‘Tsumu.”
“Sure thing.”
* * *
Kiyoomi wants to say no. Really, he does. But his mouth is quicker than his brain, and Atsumu’s already thanking him and texting him Mai’s address before he’s even fully processed what exactly it is that he’s just agreed to.
The words ‘bird on her balcony’ and ‘in and out in no time’ in Atsumu’s nonchalant Kansai cadence ring in Kiyoomi’s mind as he reluctantly pushes the doorbell labeled ‘Honjou.’
You try so hard to tell yourself this person is invading your headspace against your will and suddenly you’re in front of their apartment door. Funny how that works.
The door buzzes and Kiyoomi is greeted by a tiny hallway at the end of which is Mai in a doorway that looks positively hobbit-sized. If Kiyoomi got on his tiptoes, he’d hit his head on the doorframe. Like Gandalf in Bilbo Baggins’ house.
He stops in front of her, looking down at her wide-eyed expression. The sneaking suspicion that Atsumu did not tell her he was coming over settles in his mind. “Expecting someone else?”
Kiyoomi notes the two different snowflake patterns on her socks – and the ankle brace. It just reminds him of the feeling of her pulse under his thumb and the weight of her head against his shoulder. He shouldn’t wish for either of those things back, not seeing as they were the result of her getting hurt – on his account – but he can’t stop the thought before it’s already settled in his mind.
“Atsumu said something about a bird?” he tries again, watching some of the spark return to her eyes.
Mai clears her throat awkwardly, stepping aside and letting him into her apartment. “It’s– uhm… well, so, like– the railing on my balcony has this unfortunate hole. And, uhm– well, birds get stuck in there sometimes. But it’s really high up and I can’t reach it. Yeah. Uhm. So usually Atsumu takes care of that for me, but he’s not in town and… yeah.”
Kiyoomi hums in understanding. Sounds easy enough. Extract bird from balcony, then scram. He leaves his shoes in the small genkan at the entrance – Mai may not care, but he sure does.
Wordlessly, Mai starts down the tiny cramped hallway leading to her living room and kitchen. Before they can enter the open space, she stops suddenly. Kiyoomi nearly barrels into her back, catching his balance at the last second.
She turns to him slowly; her lips pressed into a thin line. “I should warn you. There’s stuff on the floor everywhere. You may want to brace yourself.”
“Thanks for the warning,” he replies dryly with a quirked eyebrow, already eyeing a basket of unfolded laundry at the foot of her couch over her head. This may be harder than expected.
Oh, it gets so much worse than a single basket of unfolded laundry. There’s a pile of t-shirts slung over the back of her couch – all very obviously worn. An opened bag of those damn tortilla chips he remembers seeing her eat months ago at the training center is on her side table and dangerously close to tipping over and spilling all over the floor – a stack of colorful paperback romance novels beside it. Piles of unsorted DVDs – he spots all seasons of Downton Abbey first – below her TV.
But worst of all – he should really not be here in her space like this – is that there is a single black lace bra discarded on the floor beside her couch. Like she just took it off and flung it there without a care in the world. And he should really, really tear his eyes away from that particular piece of evidence of her slobbish ways, but he can’t. Because if he looked at her right now, he’d have to connect the dots and realize that she’s probably not wearing a bra right now.
He’s realized it already, and, boy, it’s doing things to him. His mind finally puts a word to the tingly feeling zapping down his spine, and he hates it. Horny jail, that’s where they should put him. Lock him up and throw away the key. This is worse than simply hating her guts.
Oh, this is bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad.
“It’s worse than you thought, isn’t it?” Mai’s voice pulls Kiyoomi from his thoughts. Yeah, it is. But not in the way she thinks.
Kiyoomi clears his throat, ignoring the fact that his mind keeps circling back to the bra on her living room floor and the very real possibility that she’s not wearing one right now. “It’s pretty much the way I imagined it.”
“Aw, you’ve been imagining my apartment. I’m flattered.”
“I haven’t– Oh, just show me the bird, will you?”
Mai laughs genuinely, and the sound feels a bit like a gut punch to him. She leads the way with a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips.
Kiyoomi hears the chirping before he can actually locate the bird. He’s grateful for the rush of chill February air that greets him on Mai’s balcony – something to cool the heat rising in him.
Getting on her tiptoes, Mai points up at a space in the railing that connects to the ceiling above. It’s a few inches above her fingers still, but, yup, there’s a small bird stuck in between a hole in the bars there.
“Do you have some garden gloves or something I can use?”
“What for?”
Kiyoomi furrows his brows. Isn’t it obvious? “To get the bird down? You’re not supposed to touch them with your bare hands.”
“Why? Because of like bird flu or something?”
“Among other things. You generally shouldn’t touch wild animals.” Mai hums, nodding slowly. “Please tell me you knew that.”
She hums again in a noncommittal way, biting her lip.
“How up-to-date are you on your vaccines?”
“Afraid I’ll give you something if you stay too long?” Mai smirks nonchalantly, rummaging through a pile of garden accessories.
“As long as you don’t bite me, I think I’ll be fine, gremlin. I’m talking about tetanus, hepatitis, that kind of thing. You should really get them if you plan to keep feeding that raccoon and rescuing birds.” Kiyoomi tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket, looking at Mai sifting through tiny shovels and various flowerpots. It’s weirdly domestic, standing there with her on her miniscule balcony in the winter chill.
“Can you stop calling me gremlin? I have a name, you know?”
“This one fits you better, gremlin.”
Mai sighs, finally pulling out a pair of garden gloves from underneath a stack of outdoor pillows. “Well, here you go, Mr. Clean. They might be a little small, but it’s the best I can do right now,” she explains, standing up and extending a pair of hot pink gloves to him.
Kiyoomi scoffs, taking the gloves from her and putting them on. “Mr. Clean?”
“If you call me gremlin, I’m calling you Mr. Clean.”
Kiyoomi assesses the bird situation, deciding to just try to gently pull it from its cage. Mai is to his back, her arms crossed over her chest, shivering a little. “Fair, I guess. But I do have more hair than he does.”
He reaches up, his jacket and shirt riding up and exposing a sliver of his back and abs to Mai. Her heart sputters a little, before she decides to look anywhere but him.
Some very loud protesting chirps later, and Kiyoomi is gripping a tiny bird in his hot pink garden glove-clad hands. It looks up at him and he thinks he might be imagining it, but it looks confused.
Mai squeals softly, stepping closer to him and looking at the bird with big, round eyes. “Oh, no, poor thing. Don’t worry, little guy. The large, scary man isn’t going to hurt you.” She speaks to the bird like it’s a puppy. Or a small child. Same difference, Kiyoomi reckons. Her tone is so soft he feels almost jealous of the bird.
“What now? Do I just let it go?” he deadpans, holding the bird as far out from his body as he can. He’s not scared of it, but it might be carrying all sorts of diseases he could do without. The image is sort of like if Snow White was 6’4” and had a clinical aversion against anything remotely dirty. Kind of endearing, actually, if you asked Mai. Not that she would tell Kiyoomi that, though.
“Just hold it over the railing and open your hand. They usually fly off pretty much immediately.”
Kiyoomi doesn’t need to be told twice. The tiny bird shakes itself on his hand, glancing back at Mai and him with an almost offended look and then flies off.
“Well, there he goes. Please never come back, buddy,” Mai calls after the bird, shifting around a little. There’s goosebumps on her arms from the chill air.
She gives Kiyoomi a grateful smile before shuffling back inside, noticeably limping and plopping down on her couch immediately. Kiyoomi follows her but stays standing in the middle of her living room slightly awkwardly.
There’s a swirl of emotions he has trouble placing at the sight of Mai outstretching her leg in front of herself with a sigh. Sometimes he wishes his inner workings were just slightly more transparent to himself. “How’s your ankle? Still feeling stabbed?”
Mai huffs. Another one of those small smiles crosses her face. They’re different from the kind she shares with Atsumu or his other teammates. Less obvious. More intimate. Like a shared secret. “Slightly less stabbed than I did a week ago, thanks. Doc said I need the brace for another week but then I should be good to jump people for their wrong opinions again.”
“Can’t say I’m looking forward to that.”
“Oh, so you admit your opinions are wrong?”
“Categorically? No. I’ve been known to be persuaded by fact and reason from time to time, though.
She looks up at him with fake disbelief and points to the free space beside her on the couch. “You could sit down, you know? I know it’s nowhere near as pristine as the disinfectant wipe box you probably live in, but it’s not so bad once you ignore the mysterious stains.”
Kiyoomi gives her a tight-lipped smile. He contemplates sitting down for a few seconds. The last time he gave in to that particular kind of request from her, she ended up patting his crotch dry with a used napkin. But there’s no fluids in sight, and she’s hurt. Because of him. He sits down beside her reluctantly, his back ramrod straight and still wearing his black sports jacket. God, his heart is in his throat for some reason.
“Can I tell you something?” Mai asks, quieter than he’s used to hearing from her. This close he can smell that scent again. Bergamot and… warmth. It’s addictive. His shoulders relax slightly.
“Sure.”
Mai bites the inside of her cheek until she tastes iron. She hasn’t told anyone about this yet. Hasn’t let herself contemplate the possibility. “I got a job offer. In Tokyo.”
Tokyo. The word replays in Kiyoomi’s mind like a broken record. “Congratulations?”
“You’re the first person I’ve told.” Mai frowns, the back of her head hits the couch, and she stares at the ceiling for a bit. Then she turns her head to face him. “Everyone I love is here, in Osaka. But it would be a great opportunity. I’d be paid better. Get to manage a small community library. Nothing fancy. But it could be great.”
The thought of Mai gone, permanently, cracks something open inside of Kiyoomi’s skull like an egg. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. This isn’t how it’s supposed to feel when the person you hate most in the world announces they’re leaving. In fact, that dull, stabbing pain in his heart at the thought of just never seeing her again is something else entirely. How could he have been this dense?
His brain short-circuits. “Good for you.”
Mai smiles weakly. “Thanks.”