Chapter Text
ATSUMU
It’s adorable, really, how as soon as Kiyoomi steps foot in their car, he passes right out. Atsumu was originally going to play some soft music and let the car stall a little - the nurses did inform him of the possibility of post-traumatic stress disorder from being in the same machine that got Kiyoomi into an accident so soon after it. If he’s sleeping, at least he probably won’t remember the journey enough to have any type of anxiety attack.
The silence gives him some time to think and reminisce, too. First, about what Dr. Nakahara had told him.
“There’s something you need to know about Sakusa-san’s condition.”
The doctor hadn’t looked too happy in that moment, so Atsumu assumed that it wouldn’t be something like, ‘He’s super close to recovering!’ or ‘All you need to do to cure him is ___ !’
“Sure, Doc,” Atsumu’d leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk, in order to show that he was equally as serious about this as everybody involved. “Anythin’ ya can tell me about it would help me help Omi - Kiyoomi, I mean.”
The doctor sighs. “We’ve been running some tests, doing some research. We’d hoped this wouldn’t be the case, but unfortunately, it can be quite common in situations like his.” The doctor slides a few papers towards Atsumu. “It seems like the memories that Kiyoomi makes after his accident could be his memories, well, forever.”
Atsumu freezes. Did that mean - “There’s a chance he could never get his real memories back?”
“Correct,” Dr. Nakahara points to the papers he’d handed Atsumu before. “These are a few articles about how you can best prevent that from happening, but none of the methods are guaranteed. The other papers I’ve given you are documents about Kiyoomi’s condition, his own statistics, and part of the research that the team and I did to come to this conclusion.”
“I - I mean,” Atsumu stuttered. “Thank ya for tellin’ me, I just...don’t really know how to process this right now.” Right after he says it, he feels a little selfish. He doesn’t know how to process it? What about the person sitting outside right now, on Atsumu’s phone, who might have to live a life of fake memories and not even know about it?
“That’s understandable, Miya-san. You don’t have to look so troubled,” the doctor chuckles. Atsumu tries to relax his face. “Obviously, you didn’t ask to be put in this situation either. You just wanted to help a friend.”
“A friend. Yeah, sure, that’s what we are.” And he guesses that’s the truth, after their shared days in the hospital. Atsumu truly didn’t think of Kiyoomi as an archnemesis anymore - at least, this Kiyoomi - but the problem is that he didn’t think of Kiyoomi as a boyfriend, either, which is what he might have to think of him as for the rest of his life.
Unless - they broke up.
“Now, I know that you’re thinking of whether or not to tell Sakusa-san this.”
“Yes, actually, that was the next thing on my mind,” Atsumu replies truthfully. “I just… I don’t wanna hurt him.”
Dr. Nakahara smiles gently, near pitifully. “I advise you to do so, soon. At least warn him of the possibility. But I also understand the situation you’re in, so I change my advice to: do what you think is best for the both of you. But he deserves to know at some point, doesn’t he? If his true memories don’t return?”
And what could Atsumu do but nod in agreement?
Now, there’s a stack of medical papers burning a hole through his backpack, and a snoring young man in his passenger seat who feels more like a lead weight on Atsumu’s heart. Worst thing is, his not-telling-Kiyoomi of what happened in the doctor’s room wasn’t the only deflection/lie he’d subjected the other to today, either.
The fight. Who’d have thought that that old thing would surface on a quick Web search?
Atsumu should’ve thought that. It had been the scandal of the month, and the university had to do a lot of damage control in order to preserve their team image. Of course it would’ve popped up on a preliminary search! He should’ve muted certain search results before giving Kiyoomi the phone. Either way, the damage had been done, and Atsumu had once again been a big fat liar.
The fight they’d had wasn’t just a result of university stress, and this one hadn’t been like the others, either. Truthfully, one couldn’t really say who started what, but if he had to answer that question, the fight was probably incited by Atsumu.
Here’s what happened: Kiyoomi had brought a new boyfriend in that week. An actual boyfriend. No matter his and Kiyoomi’s fights, the university team really was like a little family, or at least a very tight-knit group. All of them knew each other’s significant others, and the team even liked to hang out with his own twin, Osamu, sometimes. Kiyoomi was going through with the tradition of bringing one’s significant other over to let the team get to know them. The boyfriend’s name was Sato Something, Atsumu hadn’t bothered to remember the rest of it. All he recalled about the guy was that he was a big show-off, and an even bigger jackass. Even Shoyo couldn’t really adapt to him, confiding in Atsumu later that he got a “slimy vibe” from Sato Something. For Atsumu, it was just the fact that the guy kept bragging about his belongings and talking non-stop about how business majors were the best in the university system. Atsumu had nothing against business majors before, but now, he might hit one in the face if he saw one.
Blame Sato Something for that.
Another thing that bothered him later was his tight, tight grip on Kiyoomi. At first, he didn’t notice it. Bokuto had been the one to point it out to him after the first time the team had met Sato.
“‘Tsum-tsum, can I talk to you about something?”
“Sure, Bokkun, what’s up? And why are we in a corner whisperin’?”
“There’s something off about that Sato guy. Didn’t you see how he was manhandling Omi earlier?”
“Manhandlin’? Whaddya mean?”
“All I’ll say is that his grip could’ve bruised, badly. And we all know that Omi has delicate skin, too! So, wouldn’t his boyfriend know that too? And take care of it?”
“Yer right… anythin’ else?”
“Well, it seemed like the only time he ever gripped that hard was when someone else was near Omi. It looked like it made Omi uncomfy too. You think it’s a classic case of the too-jealous boyfriend?”
“I didn’t really notice any of that, so I can’t really say. I’ll pay more attention next time, though.”
“Thanks, Tsum-tsum. I didn’t point it out to anybody else, yet, because I didn’t want to ruin Omi’s relationship or something like that. But, all I’ll say is that I would never even think of grabbing Akaashi that hard.”
After Bokuto told him about that, Atsumu had started paying close attention whenever Sato was around. At first, he couldn’t really notice anything - they seemed happy together. No matter how they fought, Atsumu would never ruin Kiyoomi’s relationship without reason.
And then reason arrived.
One day, Kiyoomi walked into their locker room - late. That was already warning flag number one, since the guy was usually always early so as not to “contaminate himself”. Since he came in late, everyone else had already finished changing and were just standing around talking, which is why Atsumu was able to notice the bruises on his ribs. They were obvious enough that he wasn’t the only one to do so.
“Omi-san,” Shoyo said cautiously. “What are those?”
Warning flag number two came when Kiyoomi completely ignored Shoyo. On the team, there was no doubt that Kiyoomi and Shoyo were the closest duo, having been brought together by their roommate status and mutual love of the same music and TV genres. Even on days where his words scalded everyone, or he went without speaking to anyone, Shoyo was usually the one person he would always respond to, and kindly.
“Omi-kun, Shoyo asked ya a question,” Atsumu stepped up behind the smaller player. “Omi, turn around. Sakusa!”
Warning flag number three - the small flinch when Atsumu raised his voice.
“Omi-san, did someone hurt you?” Shoyo said softly. He moved towards him carefully, as if approaching a wounded animal. “Can I touch you? Is that okay?”
When Kiyoomi didn’t say anything, Shoyo carefully extended his hand and slotted it into Kiyoomi’s. The locker room was so silent, you could hear it if a pin dropped. Then, Shoyo placed another hand over the hand holding Kiyoomi’s, and turned him around.
He had a black eye.
“Omi!” Bokuto exclaimed, bounding closer to the man but not touching him. “We gotta get you to the infirmary! That’s gonna swell!”
“It’s okay,” Kiyoomi had croaked, his voice creaky as if he’d been crying for a very long time. “I have ice at home. Can we just practice?”
“No way, Kiyoomi-kun,” Meian, a senior and the captain of the team, had said. “Not in that condition yer not -”
“Please, just let me play,” Kiyoomi had cut him off with. “It makes me feel better.”
Meian had stood silent for a few moments, but ultimately he’d given in. The rest of the team filed out, then, assuming that Kiyoomi would want some alone time. Atsumu had been left in there with him.
“Who did this to ya?”
Kiyoomi continued to pack his clothes into his locker. “It’s none of your business, Miya.”
“Who did this to ya?” Atsumu had pressed. “I’m yer setter. Don’t ya know that it’s not okay when one of my hitters is roughed up like this?”
Kiyoomi had stayed silent. It infuriated Atsumu, even though he knew that the situation wasn’t about him.
“Was it Sato?”
The way the other froze at that moment was all it took to give him his answer.
“Okay,” Atsumu murmured, nodding to himself. “Okay, let’s go play.”
The next day, the headmaster of the university and supervisor of the business majors came to visit their practice, unbeknownst to most of the team. They sat in the bleachers and observed the team’s outside hitter as he sent hit over hit into the floor opposite him with a booming noise. The day after that, Sato Whatever-His-Name-Was was expelled from Chuo University, and Sakusa Kiyoomi became a single man.
That same day, Miya Atsumu gained a permanent scar on his leg in the form of a bite mark.
He’d been peacefully taking a drink when Kiyoomi’d stormed in, fury and a surprisingly good concealer job on his face. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he’d screamed. Atsumu remembered vividly since it’d echoed through the entire gym and caused Bokuto to jump five feet in the air.
“Uhh, is this one of yer rhetorical questions?”
“I can handle myself. I’m not a damsel in distress!” If Kiyoomi’s finger had gotten any closer to Atsumu’s face, it would’ve poked out his eyeball.
“What are ya talkin’ about?!”
“I know you got Sato expelled, don’t even try denying it.” (It should be addressed that Kiyoomi had, in fact, said Sato’s given name here, but it’s Atsumu’s memory and Sato’s first name is not included in that memory; therefore, it has been replaced by his family name.)
In that moment, he felt the heat of all his teammate’s eyes on him. “I didn’t - okay, yeah, I did. But it’s not ‘cause I thought ya were a damsel in distress or anythin’!”
“Why didn’t you let me handle it alone? You’re not my boyfriend! You’re not my relative! You’re not my supervisor! What gave you the right?”
“I didn’t know I had to have some type ‘o right to help out a teammate, a friend, who I saw in a bad situation.”
Kiyoomi’s eyes had widened, shock taking over his face for the quickest of moments. Then, they’d narrowed again. “I think you have a savior complex. Did it feel good, saving poor ‘Omi-kun’ from his big bad boyfriend?”
“Actually, yeah, it did,” Atsumu’d shot back. “He was a fuckin’ jerk and everyone here knows it. And I don’t even know what ‘savior complex’ means!”
“Because you’re an idiot with one brain cell in his head? Poor thing, it’s just rattling up in there with no friends!”
“At least I got more friends than ya! And so does my brain cell! Cells!”
Next thing anyone knew, they were on the ground, fighting for their lives (and their dignity, once the video went viral).
Currently, remembering the situation makes Atsumu chuckle a bit. Once, Meian had called them the kids of the team, even though Shoyo and Bokuto were there too. That incident had cemented that nickname. At least Kiyoomi had only pulled up that video; it was explainable. It also had a date Atsumu could use as a reference when making up the duration of their “relationship”.
There was a reason why they didn’t have any more fights after that one, though. At least, any major fights. After they’d released all their negative energy, coach made them clean up the gym by themselves as a punishment for causing such a disturbance. Doing so gave them time to talk.
“Omi-kun, are ya really mad that I got that j- Sato expelled?”
Kiyoomi had sighed, looking pensively into the volleyball cart. “No, I guess not. Even though I hate you -” Atsumu had laughed at that. “- I know that you had good intentions. I just don’t like feeling helpless, and from what Sato said to me to you getting him out of my life for me, there was too much helplessness floating around for me to feel...okay.”
Atsumu had hummed. That made more sense. Kiyoomi was the type to need control in his life, from the masks he wore whenever in a crowded room to the small sanitizer keychain he always kept stocked since he didn’t want to use public sanitizing machines. “Ya know, I’m always here to talk. If ya need to get out what Sato said to ya. My ma always said that when we speak about things, they come out of our mouth and disappear into thin air, so they can’t be in our system anymore. Helps me a lot.”
“He just said that I was too much,” Kiyoomi mumbled. “We were leaving for a party, but when we got there there was too many people and I didn’t want to go in. I told him to have fun, then went back to his apartment. He came home late, drunk, and that’s when it...happened. I told him it was over as soon as his expulsion was announced.”
Atsumu had never seen Kiyoomi this open, this vulnerable, especially to him of all people. It made him feel...something. He didn’t know what, but it was a new feeling. “Yer a little difficult, but yer definitely not ‘too much’, whatever the fuck that means. Ya know how I know?” Kiyoomi had shaken his head. “I don’t deal with people who are ‘too much’. If they aren’t good enough, if they don’t measure up to me, I leave ‘em in the dust. Yer still runnin’ next to me, so what does that say?”
And then he had laughed. Sakusa Kiyoomi had laughed, and it was nothing like Atsumu had expected Sakusa Kiyoomi’s laughter to sound like. It had been giggly, high pitched, and kinda sounded weird. But it wasn’t. Weird, that is. It had been pretty perfect. “Thank you, Miya. I just have one last question - how did you even get the headmaster’s attention on the situation?”
Atsumu had shrugged. “A well-placed letter from Miya Atsumu, the Chuo’s star setter, with stats about domestic abuse and the importance of preventin’ it on college campuses, along with a note about how if one looked at Sato Whatever’s right knuckles they’d be bruised from assaulting Chuo’s star outside hitter. Also, an invitation to a practice, so they could see said star hitter in action. And finally, a suggestion to alert the police to a possible assault and battery case.”
“Really putting that pre-law degree to use, I see,” Kiyoomi had said.
“‘Course! Have to get a one-up on ya somehow,” Atsumu had joked back. “And I know ya don’t hate me.”
“No,” Kiyoomi had replied, smiling slightly. “I guess I don’t.”
Looking at Kiyoomi now, Atsumu could finally place that new feeling he’d felt on the day they’d had that conversation: affection. Even before the accident had happened, even though they’d still considered themselves archnemeses, Atsumu had liked Kiyoomi in some way. Maybe that’s why it had been so easy to fall into the boyfriend routine, no matter how false it was.
Kiyoomi stirring in his passenger seat causes him to break out of his nostalgia. “Hey, sleepin’ beauty. How was yer nap?”
“As good as a car nap can be,” Kiyoomi grumbles. Atsumu forgot that he’s a terrible morning person, or just wake-upper. “Are we almost there?”
“We are actually here!” Atsumu gestures to the small building in front of them with a flourish, after parking the car. “Welcome to Onigiri Miya!”