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Summary
He doesn’t know what to expect.
(He knows exactly how this will go.)
Kiyoomi turns the handle and pulls the door open.
Atsumu, standing outside his apartment at almost one in the morning, looks as perfect as he does every other hour of the day—as handsome as he did the last time they saw each other.
There’s something electric in the air when their eyes meet; strong enough to tamp down the devastation Kiyoomi feels in the pit of his stomach, the stitches carefully sewn between the shattered fragments of his heart coming apart at the sight of Atsumu being here at his door tonight.
“Hi, Omi-omi,” he says.
Or, the horrifying ordeal of being in a situationship with Miya Atsumu, as told by Sakusa Kiyoomi.