commitment issues atsumu. people always want too much too fast for him, so he finds himself being drawn to those who want nothing to do with him at all. that way /he/ can set the pace, push the others boundaries only if they fit within his. he can take his time—

wading in the interim between infatuation and responsibility, relish in the honeymoon stage of a relationship not confined to one bed, one home, one title forever. he can still return to his own bed and have his alone time. he doesnt have to accommodate for anyone

if people ask too much of him, he leaves. its instinctual actually. no matter how many good memories they might have shared, the second his partner even hinted at a ‘what are we’, atsumus alarm bells start ringing and hes already managed to book it halfway across town.

hed developed sort of a complex over the years for stoic faces, scowls marking displeasure at his shameless attempts at bridging the gap between acquaintanceship and something more. theyre comforting in the sense that he knows he wont have to fight to live up to any expectation.

no one goes into a relationship with atsumu without some degree of preparation for disappointment laced between each word whispered in the dark. and its the most comforting thing in the world for atsumu.

enter sakusa kiyoomi; resident stick in the mud with disappointment practically dripping from his gaze. this might be fun, atsumu thinks.

so they dance. atsumu leads, taking a step forward as kiyoomi shifts back, graceful as ever. atsumu lifts kiyoomis hand and spins him on his toes, only to find himself being dipped down, kiyoomis hands gently lowering him and pulling him back up until their hands are clasped.

its not love... but its something exciting. atsumu likes it.

dinner dates after games, kisses shared on porches before saying goodnight, kiyoomi becomes a constant but limited presence in atsumus life. hes someone atsumu can watch movies with and not be expected to have to hold hands with during the scary parts.

its /fun/.
its easy, its relaxed, its comforting knowing atsumu can have his own space, do his own things, and still know that kiyoomi will be waiting outside the gym to walk him home every day.
its regulated. its boundaries are strict.

he should have known it was too good to be true.

it started out small. little gifts left in his bag in the locker room. soft gazes after languid kissing. a night of drinking resulting in a crashing on the couch and atsumu waking up to the smell of fried eggs and lysol.

it was when, after a night of lounging on the couch, atsumu got up to get ready for bed and noticed kiyoomi following to do the same. as they scrubbed up together, he was struck with the sudden realization — since when had kiyoomi kept a toothbrush at his place?

his eyes raked across his bathroom. face wash that wasnt his, two towels instead of one by the shower, packs of disinfectant wipes on top of the toilet bowl. atsumu felt his skin prickle. this... this was bad.

he tried to ignore it. he really did. but when they crawled into bed and kiyoomi nuzzled a ‘gnight baby’ into his neck before drifting off to sleep, atsumu could help but this — since when had he let kiyoomi get so close?

the next morning, atsumu scrounged up some sort of excuse to kick kiyoomi out so he could have time to think.
this was bad. they /worked/ together. atsumu couldnt just avoid him like he had so many other lovers in the past. how the hell could he have been so /stupid/?

hed made a gross miscalculation when he thought kiyoomi was a safe way to siphon off some affection. he hadnt expected to break down kiyoomis walls, nor had he expected the flood of emotion that followed.

once kiyoomi got a taste of touch, it was like he couldnt stop, and atsumu noticed it all too late. it wasnt bad, per say. in fact it was quite the opposite. where kiyoomi was always bony and awkward, he softened in atsumus arms, molded to fit his shape. he was warm. it was nice.

but those touches would soon become suffocating, atsumu knew that. he had to cut out the rot before it could fester over and trap him in a prison of domestic responsibility. atsumu couldnt be a boyfriend. he wasnt made for that.

so he started marking his distance. he ignored kiyoomis texts, stopped meeting with him for dinner, always left with bokuto after practice to avoid any unwarranted confrontation.

avoidance came second nature to atsumu. it was never hard to dodge lovers in the past, but it was exceeding easy for some reason when it came to kiyoomi. it made atsumu sick to his stomach. he had to be a real piece of shit to have a talent like this.

atsumu had braced himself for retaliation, but none came. in fact, it was as if kiyoomi had expected this. he didnt confront him about it or try to convince him to stay (not that atsumu wanted either of those things, of course). it was as if nothing had ever happened.

whenever atsumu dared to flit his eyes in kiyoomis direction, there was always a sense of resignation in his eyes. atsumu couldnt understand why it made him angry.

they successfully avoided each other for a few weeks, but since the universe seemed to a have a penchant for putting atsumu in awkward situations, they got assigned to room together for their next away game.

atsumu was always good at playing pretend, so he put on a sloppy smile and eyed the two beds. “well omi kun — which one d’ya want?”
kiyoomi made his way to the bed by the window and began to unpack without a word. atsumu was already itching to go bar hopping soon.

kiyoomi stayed in, as he usually did, while atsumu, bokuto, and hinata took on the town. they warbled old folk tunes at the top of their lungs as they pranced the streets and searched for the new place to get smashed at.

it was late in the night when they all managed to sneak back into their room, stealthily avoiding waking up meian who would surely berate them for their irresponsibility before a game. atsumu shut the door quietly behind him and stumbled into his room.

he frowned at the sight before him, but couldnt find it within himself to look away. kiyoomi was tucked delicately beneath his plush comforter, midnight curls spilling down his forehead. he nuzzled against a pillow wrapped tightly in his arms.

he was beautiful. anyone who saw him would have said the same thing, but atsumu couldnt stop himself from thinking that he was /really/ beautiful. gorgeous, in fact.

his forehead was smooth and free of any frustrated wrinkles, lips drooping in a tenseless frown. his nose twitched when an errant curl tickled his skin, and he huffed a light breath before pressing himself tighter against the pillow. atsumus skin tingled with phantom touch.

he doesnt know how long he stood there just watching. he knows he shouldnt have gotten as drunk as he did, but he couldnt help himself knowing what he was going to come back to.

self pity won out, like it usually did, and so his blood thrummed with traces of alcohol and he felt his own drunkenness between his teeth.
he felt disgusting (for more reasons than one).
he tore his gaze away and stumbled into the bathroom to wash the muck from his bones.

he was going to brush his teeth, but when he saw kiyoomi’s toothbrush sitting neatly next to his, old memories surfaced and he felt bile at the back of his throat.

when he came back into the bedroom, kiyoomi was in the same position he’d left him in. and still breathtakingly beautiful. atsumu ached to trace his fingers down his jaw, to kiss the frown from his lips.

why did kiyoomi frown even in his sleep? why did discomfort follow him into the world of dreams?

drunk and entirely too exhausted to fear consequence, atsumu shuffled to the bed by the window, and crawled into the empty space near the wall. his head spun, the room pitched, but he made his movements carefully so as not to wake the man beside him.

would it be too much to hug him? pull him close for the night and relive old memories he never thought hed want to revisit? there were too many questions. atsumu just wanted to sleep, wanted to stop /feeling/ so much all at once. this was exactly what hed wanted to avoid.

he turned on his side and watched the light rise and fall of kiyoomis chest. he seemed so peaceful. atsumu craved his calm.

before he could stop himself, he snaked an arm around kiyoomis waist. he pressed himself against his back, molded himself to his form, nuzzled into the back of his neck. he smelled sweet and lovely and atsumu /missed/ this and fear quickened his heartrate at the realization.

everything stilled beside his heart. his mind quieted down and he slowly felt the edges of sleep dragging him under. this felt right. /kiyoomi/ felt right. he wanted to feel right too. and so, he slept.

atsumu woke to his ass hitting the floor and frantic footsteps heading for the bathroom. he rubbed his aching head and tried to piece together where the fuck he was.

the bathroom door slammed shut, the shower turned on, and atsumu realized he had fallen off kiyoomis bed. fuck.

the room tilted sideways as atsumu stood up. he was definitely hungover. how lovely.
assuming kiyoomi would be in the bathroom for a while, atsumu dressed himself enough to be presentable for breakfast and moved to put as much space between him and the other man as possible.

he heard something as he passed by the bathroom though, and it triggered muscle memory to reach out and grab the door handle — heavy breathing, labored and deep.
“omi? omi, you okay?”

“im... im fine.”
kiyoomis words wavered as he heaved for breath.
“kiyoomi.” atsumu softened his voice, like he had so many times before when this happened. “kiyoomi listen ta me, okay? breathe through yer nose.”

kiyoomi made no noise of acknowledgement and atsumu jiggled the door handle to no avail. “kiyoomi, ya gotta turn the shower off okay? just turn it off.”

the water cut out and kiyoomis uneven breaths echoed throughout the bathroom. “ok now listen, okay? hear me breathin? breathe with me.”
he took an exaggerated inhale and exhale, ensuring kiyoomi could hear him through the door. “just like that, come on, breathe with me omi.”

atsumu heard kiyoomis breaths begin to match his own. “thats it, baby, just breathe—“
“dont FUCKING call me that.”
the breaths picked up again and atsumu felt panic squeeze his heart. “im sorry, im sorry, i didnt mean to. just... please breathe with me.”

it took a few more moments for kiyoomi to fully get himself back under control. there was only silence for a while, atsumu entirely at a loss for words. he heard the shower start up again.

“kiyoomi are you-“
“just LEAVE.”

atsumus hand went limp on the doorknob and he gritted his teeth.
this was his fault, he dumb stupid drunk selfs fault. if he had just kept his hands to himself...

“alright... well, im gonna head down for breakfast. i think the teams eatin’ together so if ya wanna...”
atsumu couldnt find the words to finish his sentence. he felt a smarting pain in his palm where four crescent indents lie. he hadnt realized hed had tensed up so badly.

he took a deep breath and stepped away from the door, grabbed his phone, and made his way to the dining area. his chest ached with something he tried so hard to ignore, but he couldnt bring himself to brush it off.

not only did they lose their game, they didnt even make it to full sets. atsumu fought through his hangover, but the team was out of sync and he couldnt find the loose strings and pull the together in time.

it wasnt just him and omi — the whole team was off. meian and bokuto shared terse words before the match, hinata seemed worlds away in his own mind, and adriah and shion wouldnt even look at each other. they were a storm cloud on the verge of wreaking chaos on everything around.

coach foster seemed at a loss for words himself, forgoing any condemnation and ordering them to take the night off to reset. they all trudged back to the hotel and retreated silently into their rooms to sulk.

atsumu watched kiyoomi crawl into his bed without even showering first. he saw a red tinge to his eyes before he turned towards the wall and went still.

the oxygen felt like it was being sucked from atsumus lungs. he sat on the edge of his bed and stared at his hands. since when had his ten fingers not been enough? even when the team wasnt in sync, he always managed to at least help them squeeze out a few good hits.

but today was just... suffice it to say, today was the worst game atsumu had ever played in his life. he couldnt erase the looks of mounting frustration on his players faces as they continued to get blocked over and over and over again.

the biggest blow comes, not from his own incessant thinking, but from the curled up figure in the bed beside his:

“i got an offer from the raijins.”

atsumu feels hollow. each syllable of that sentence carves a little more of his lungs away until theres a cavity of nothingness in his chest. his heart ceases to pump, his body shuts down.
“what?” he says softly.

kiyoomi doesnt repeat himself. he doesnt have to.

they return to osaka and foster gives them a three day break from practice. atsumu isnt sure he exists for those three days.

everything hed had known for the past few years was changing. the team hed gotten to know and love and work so fluidly beside. the coach he looked up to that now seemed to look at him with contempt and disappointment. the boy whos heart he broke that might be leaving forever.

it isnt easy for atsumu to cry. even when he wants to, the tears hide beneath his lids and no amount of coaxing can draw them out. but during those three days, he cries more than he has in months.

its weird how much comfort it brings him. the wetness on his cheeks is a reminder that hes not made of stone, that he isnt just the heartless man hes grown to think he is. he can feel things too. its a shocking reminder of his own vulnerabilities. a reset.

if he can cry, then it meant that he could like something enough to miss it when it was gone.
volleyball. the satisfaction he felt when a set landed and echoed throughout the gym. blackberry curls against porcelain skin, the silkiness of it between his fingers.

how ironic that the moment atsumu decides he doesnt want to run for once is when everything else decides its finally time to move on.

without him.

is this karma?

atsumu walks into practice just as lost as he had been before. its quiet and solemn and atsumu hates it, he wants everything to go back to the way it was, but he cant find it within himself to try and fix it. could he even?

as soon as foster ends it, everyone scrambles to leave as quickly as possible. atsumu crouches in the middle of the court, half expecting hinata to come up excitedly behind him and ask for extra practice.

but hinata was one of the firsts to leave. so atsumu reluctantly retreats to the locker roommto change.

surprisingly, kiyoomi is still there. normally, hed be the first one out, but he seemed to be moving at a snails pace.
was he tired? or — a terrifying thought seized atsumu — was he trying to cling to the memories of the team hed already committed to leaving?

standing there, alone, in the center of the locker room, kiyoomi looked so small. his slouch was heavy and made him look impossibly short. his gaze was meek and sorrowful. he looked like he was mourning.

atsumu froze by the locker room door. the volleyball in his hand slipped from his grasp and bounced across the floor, rolling its way past kiyoomi and into the set of lockers beyond. kiyoomi turned to look at him.

the tearing at his chest was unfamiliar and it /hurt/. his stomach was in knots, his chest felt tight, the walls seemed like they were going to close in on him at any second.

but when kiyoomi met his gaze, everything stopped. it was just the two of them floating somewhere in the dark expanses of the universe. kiyoomis eyes were dull and lifeless. his hair was matted with sweat.

“dont go.”
atsumus voice cracked.
“dont leave me.”

kiyoomis brow furrowed. “why shouldnt i.”
his voice was even and steeled. atsumus lip trembled. he dragged his feet forward, body moving on autopilot. atsumu felt like he was light years away, consciousness drifting into orbit with the stars.

“why shouldnt i, atsumu?” kiyoomi spat through gritted teeth.
as he got closer, atsumu noticed the water brimming at kiyoomis lower lid.
“i...” atsumu felt his face burn hot, felt something trickle down his cheeks. “i dont know...”

he lifted his hand to trace the apple of kiyoomis cheek, only for a tear to fall from its perch and wet his thumb. atsumu rubbed the saltwater into kiyoomis skin.
“you...” kiyoomis voice sounded like it could shatter into a million pieces. “tell me why i shouldnt go.”

atsumu grappled for something, anything to make him stay. he scoured his mind for all of the things hed practiced saying during their time off. but nothing came to him. because...
“you should. go.”

kiyoomis eyes go wide at that. something like betrayal crosses his features.
“you should go,” atsumu continues, voice quivering with his lip. “youll be happy there.”
atsumu takes a shaky breath. “but i dont want you to.”

kiyoomis lips morph into a snarl as tears fall unabashed past his lashes. “you... you...”
the breath is squeezed from atsumus lungs as hes pulled into a light hug. kiyoomi tucks his nose into atsumus neck as he holds him around the shoulders. “you’re... the fucking worst.”

atsumu shakes at the contact hed thought hed never feel again. he brings his arms around kiyoomi, gently at first but then crushing and tight.
“you’re horrible,” kiyoomi spits. “awful. you suck.”
atsumu nods and holds him tighter. “i know.”

the world falls away again, planets and stars and moons dropped onto the floor beneath them as they hug each other tighter than ever before. they sob silently against each other, the effect of months of longing and confusion and too much left unsaid.

“i know... i know you were scared,” kiyoomi shudders, sniffing back wetness that was already smeared across atsumus shirt. “told myself id wait, as long as it took. whyd you take so god damn long?”
atsumu cant find an answer other than, “im sorry.”

they hiccup and catch their breath, arms never moving from their grasp on each other.
“dont do it again,” kiyoomi commands weakly.
“i wont... im sorry...”

“... will you stay this time?”
atsumu presses his nose into kiyoomis shoulder and inhales the smell of home. “... yeah... as long as you do too.”
kiyoomi lets free a waterlogged chuckle. “i never wanted to leave.”

kiyoomi pulls away from the hug first, swiping his shirt sleeve against his nose. “you suck so bad, atsumu.”
they look at each other for a moment and smile. “i know,” atsumu nods. “i know, kiyoomi. im so sorry.”

kiyoomi sniffles and lets out a great big sigh before turning to pick up his bag. “ill wait for you outside.”
atsumu blinks, watches kiyoomi leave, and promptly collapses onto the bench.

‘you dont deserve this’, he thinks to himself. ‘evil, awful, piece of shit...’
but for some reason, kiyoomi is crazy enough to give him a second chance. and hes not going to waste it.

he changes quickly, shoves his practice clothes in his bag, and makes his way outside where the man he thought he was about to lose forever waits for him patiently.

/fin/
...
literally what the fuck did i just create

like this was actually supposed to be like three tweets what the fuck is this