Chapter Text
To say that their friendship was unconventional was a legitimate understatement. They fight, they bicker, and there was never a dull (read: quiet) moment when they’re together. People would never have guessed that they have had this unusual albeit unwavering friendship of theirs before either of them knew what volleyball was. Kiyoomi didn’t know how he did it, but somehow, he had found himself a friend that lasted not years, but for almost two decades. He himself didn’t know why he didn’t just gravitate towards Osamu, the saner of the two, rather than this chaotic child who was currently trying to shove a spoonful of wasabi in his mouth.
“Do. Not. Do. It.” Kiyoomi threatened glaring at Atsumu.
Never, in the nineteen years that they have known each other has Atsumu listened to reason, maybe only in the form of Kita Shinsuke, who is currently nowhere near. That being said, he shoves the spoon in his mouth, and him, being unable to take spicy food, leans over the sink and starts heaving. Kiyoomi sighs to himself, having mercy on his friend and went to get him a glass of milk. After a tear-and-vomit-filled three minutes and a shower later, they were now seated at the couch with Kiyoomi watching the game playing live and Atsumu pouting beside him.
“Okay, begin.”
“I blame Bokkun, he told me that I couldn’t eat a spoonful’a wasabi.” The blond said and continued pouting.
“But you can’t.” Kiyoomi stated making the other hide his face in the pillow that he was holding.
“Yer not s’pposed to take his side, Omi!” he said, the pillow muffling his words as he was fake sobbing.
“Since when did I ever take your side?”
“I’m making dinner, is there something that you want?” Kiyoomi said standing up.
“Karaage?” Atsumu said, rousing his head from where it rested on the pillow.
Looking at him now, Kiyoomi again realizes why he stuck with Atsumu, especially as he got older. Atsumu was beautiful, and him being a mere man, was attracted to these things of beauty, in fact, he loved them. Atsumu was, with lack of a better word, the embodiment of light; to Kiyoomi, he wasn’t the sun, no, marvelous, yet far; he wasn’t fire, bright, but flickering, he was light. He was the kind of light that blinded one, yet cannot survive without it, he was the kind of light that was unfaltering and irreplaceable, he was the kind of light that never burned but never failed to warm. To Kiyoomi, Atsumu was the light. Atsumu was his light.
Nodding, he takes the chicken from the refrigerator and begins to debone the meat. In doing so, he thinks back to when he first met his light. He remembers the warmth of the blistering summer heat on his skin, there were many other people in the park, but none of them wanted to come near Kiyoomi. Even at an early age, he was quiet and reserved, and people, kids and adults alike, misjudged him for that. He could hear the other kids talking amongst themselves about him, they weren’t words he hasn’t heard before, so he decides to just ignore them.
“He’s alone again. Look, even his cousin isn’t hanging out with him.” Kiyoomi heard one of the kids say.
Looking up, he sees Motoya laughing carelessly with other people, the group surrounding him as if a comedian with his crowd. They watched, all their attention on him, as he talks animatedly about the bug he had caught the other day, about his swimming trip last week, about how he had been helping his mother cook lunch every weekend. He looked on as he continues to blabber, never once losing the attention of all those around him, he continues to wish that he were like that, to have such a degree of abandon that the other was currently exhibiting now.
“I heard he was a scary kid that’s why no one wants to play with him.” Another said.
He couldn’t help it, even if he wanted to, he knew that his stare discouraged people from coming near him, and should they be brave enough to actually interact with him, they either get told off for being too dirty, or noisy, or coming too close, please distance yourself. He hated when people got too close to him, physically and emotionally, he hated when they come into his personal space, close enough that he feels the hot and humid air surrounding their bodies, he hated when people pried into his business, why his parents never came with him to the park, why he didn’t come to play with other kids, why he walked away when someone calls his name.
“Who’s he anyway?” A voice that Kiyoomi has never heard before said.
“I don’t know, he’s just a weird guy that never talked to anyone here.” Another had said.
Kiyoomi hears gravel crunching under shoes as someone approaches him. Here they go again, another kid that will think that he’s weird, another kid that will start to judge him when he asks him to go away.
“Hey, I heard the other guys talkin’ ‘bout ya. Is it cool if I sat with ya? I won’t sit too close.”
Kiyoomi curled into himself further, his clammy hands and sticky skin were beginning to trigger his mysophobia, and the other kid was not at all helping. He didn’t say anything, however, he let the other take his action how he wants. Unfortunately for him, the other kid takes it as an invitation to sit beside him. Surprisingly, he doesn’t talk, he doesn’t pry, he doesn’t come nearer to him than he initially is. Kiyoomi then musters enough courage to ask the other kid one thing.
“Why are you still here?”
“Oh, so ya do talk. I’m Atsumu, you are?” the other said smiling at him.
“Why are you still here?” Kiyoomi asked once more.
“Ya don’t wanna answer me huh, I just wanted ta see if what they said was right.” Kiyoomi raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in question.
“They kept sayin’ that ya were a recluse or somethin’ that ya hate people.”
“I don’t hate people, it isn’t my fault that they’re too dirty, and too loud, and they always ask too many questions.” He answered.
“Oh? Well, am I good on ya then?” Atsumu asked.
“I guess, you didn’t pry, you also didn’t come too close.” Kiyoomi muttered.
“Can ya tell me yer name then?”
“Kiyoomi.”
“Kiyoomi. Omi. Omi-Omi!” Atsumu said. Kiyoomi turns to look at him and he knew from that day, his life will change forever. The heat of the humid air before a storm feels somewhat lighter as he gazes at the stranger’s smile. A missing front tooth, the tousled black hair, the warm grin, the eyes shut from smiling too large. He didn’t know it at that time, but that smile, that unchanging smile, would be his strength and his downfall. Because when Miya Atsumu smiles, a ray of his light warms Kiyoomi’s heart, this ray of light gives him a burst of happiness, this ray of light has provided him the acceptance that neither his family, nor the kids at any park have ever given him. In retrospect Kiyoomi realizes that this ray of light wasn’t from Atsumu, rather, it is Atsumu, the ever present, ever understanding, ever accepting, ever loving Atsumu.
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“My thighs are killin’ me!” Atsumu shouts from where he had seated himself on the couch.
“Get up, Atsu. Go change before you get too comfortable.” Kiyoomi said taking his dirty clothes to his hamper.
“Fine, fine. What are we watchin’ tonight Omi?”
“As per tradition, it’s horror week this week.” Kiyoomi calls out to the other before disappearing into his room.
Atsumu on the other hand, feels a chill engulf him. The weeks couldn’t have gone that quick now could it? It wasn’t possible. Pulling up the calendar app on his phone, he finds their shared schedule staring back at him as he sees that the movie genre for this week is indeed horror. He could handle gore and grotesque amounts of blood, but not the ghosts, he would not be able to sleep alone for days if he were to watch movies with ghosts.
“I told you to change, Atsu.” Kiyoomi said in a stern voice when he sees the other still sitting at the couch, staring at his phone.
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’. But Omi, please choose a movie that’s appropriate for me thanks!” He yelled after the other as he disappears down the hallway into his room.
Coming back, Atsumu finds out that Kiyoomi did not, in fact, choose a movie appropriate for him. For the entirety of the movie, he sat trembling in his seat, almost crying at every suspenseful scene, screaming bloody murder at every jump scare. Despite his annoyance, Kiyoomi couldn’t help but laugh every time the other showed signs of vulnerability that he would deny to everyone save for his best friend.
Once the movie was done, Atsumu had hidden himself into Kiyoomi’s side, whimpering every time the ending credits made too loud of a sound. The raven, despite trying to hide his laughter, lets a few breaths escape as a particularly suspenseful series of notes sends Atsumu grappling for the sheets already covering him. Kiyoomi moves to stand up to sleep, but the other wraps his arms around his waist keeping him from moving.
Atsumu shuffles so that his face was buried in the raven’s torso, nuzzling into the fabric of his shirt. Kiyoomi’s fingers find Atsumu’s hair, running them through his scalp as the other noses at his shirt inhaling his scent. The blond pulls his head up to look at the other only to find him already staring at him. Kiyoomi gazes at him with the intense black eyes that seemed to always hold annoyance and contempt, now gone without a trace despite him being the one to provoke most of these reactions. Atsumu gets up and wordlessly pulls at the other by his hand, Kiyoomi turns off all the appliances, with the blond still clinging to his arm before letting him drag him into his room.
Kiyoomi lies down first, getting himself comfortable before moving to make room for Atsumu to lay down on. He worms his way into the sheets and into the raven’s arms as both wrap around him. They lay there wordlessly, staring at each other, doing nothing save for the occasional caress. Kiyoomi was the first to close his eyes, after near an hour of exchanged smiles, stares and hushed whispers. Atsumu continues to stare at the beauty in front of him, the light from the moon, illuminating half his face, the other half being shrouded by the shadows of the night.
Atsumu had always thought of Kiyoomi as a shadow, the absence of light. He was cold, unmerciful, blunt and never fails to deter people with just a single glance. That, however, wasn’t the reason that he associates him as such. He was a shadow because he was always present, he never left, even as one is in the dark, he is there, because he is the dark. He was akin to the dark side of the moon, never seen, unassuming, but is the reason for the change in shape that made thousands of poets sing their words. He was like the dark of ones childhood room, he wasn’t the dark of unfamiliarity, rather, the dark of happy memories and countless nights of pretending to be asleep only to talk with another person more. But Atsumu thinks, the perfect way to describe him, was that he was the darkness of the universe, he was a reminder that everything has a limit, even light, and that the vastness of the universe, the sheer enormity of it does not have anything to suffice it, not matter, not light, only itself.
That being said, he knew, he would not suffice for the other, the accelerating universe, as compared to the constant speed of light, he will never be enough, he will never fill the void in him, but it was moments like these when that didn’t matter. Not when Kiyoomi was holding him as if embracing his own home miles away; not when he could feel the movement of his thumb rubbing the occasional, however, habitual, circles on his bare skin of the small of his back; not when the other pulls him closer little by little every time he moves; not when he lays there looking at him realizing that he has managed to take Kiyomi’s guard down inch by agonizing inch.
As he looks at him, he recalls the first time they moved in together, they were both fresh out of high school, Atsumu was set to debut in MSBY the coming season while Kiyoomi was about to start university. As close as they were, it was undeniable that the two clashed more than anyone they knew. They had arguments about laundry, unwashed dishes, chores, but even then, legitimate fights cannot be avoided. Atsumu can’t help but remember their biggest fight to this day, he couldn’t remember what they fought about, but looking back on it now, it made him realize a few things that he never thought of until that day.
Atsumu had come home after a bad day at practice, his body ached from the penalties he had to take for his errors, his finger hurt from where a nail was chipped from a faulty block, his ankle was starting to swell from the fall that he didn’t bother to tell his coach about. His coach had also put him on a forced break because he almost got into a fight while they put their equipment away; he told Atsumu to rest and cool his head, to come back only when he knows that he’s clear of all things bothering him, physically and mentally; admittedly, he had a pretty shitty day. He was ready to go to bed and not get up in the next few days that he was banned from practice.
What he didn’t expect was for Kiyoomi to be standing in the living room, waiting for him to come back. Words were exchanged, a few punches were thrown, and an almost lifelong friendship was tested. They had avoided each other for more than three weeks after that night, which was easy, considering that Kiyoomi had his athletic scholarship, his exams and his thesis for his final year in university to worry about. Atsumu, on the other hand, had too much time on his hands; his ankle apparently had a minor sprain and was prescribed to stay out of practice for five weeks, to both recover and ease it back to its usual load. He mulled over their conversation, as the days passed, Kiyoomi’s words blurred together into an unintelligible murmur.
He didn’t want to lose the raven, he had known him and had had him for as long as he could remember. To him, Kiyoomi was alike to Osamu in a way that they have always been a constant in each other’s lives, physical distance be damned. He knew he was a slob, he knew that he was annoying, overbearingly so, he knew that he cares for Kiyoomi and the same can be said for the other about him. He knew these things, yet he couldn’t help but draw a blank when he asks himself why he dreads losing the other so bad.
He keeps turning their conversation in his mind, looking for a clue in the mass of sharp tones, accusatory gestures, mocking words, and the inevitable aggression; still, he found none. It was then, he heard a soft “I’m home” muffled by the closed door does he realize. He bolts upright so fast that his vision blurs, but the only thing he could think of made his heart soar, plummet then beat erratically in his chest. Atsumu hears a soft knock on his door making his heart jump to his throat as he steadily limps to his door. Opening it, he finds a plastic bag full of food, his favorites from his brother’s store no less, a few bottles of tea and coconut water, and a few of his favorite chocolates and candy bars.
The door opposite of his remains shut, but he knows that it is occupied from the light streaming from the crack under the door. He takes the food inside and finds a pen and a sticky note and wrote a short message of thanks for Kiyoomi then sticking it on the door before knocking and closing his, careful not to slam the door in his hurry. He hears the other door open and presses his ear to listen for anything. He hears the other take the note from the door, then a soft breath of laughter coming from Kiyoomi’s lips. Atsumu’s heart skips a beat at the sound, his mind repeating it as if a broken record. The door shuts once more after a few seconds and he can’t help but feel disappointed.
He wanted to talk to him, to apologize for all the wrong things he said. To say that it doesn’t mean anything compared to their friendship. To say that he regrets saying the things he said. To say that he regrets hurting the other. To say that he will gladly swallow his pride if it means having his comfort, his smile, his care again.
It was that day that Atsumu realized that he cares for Kiyoomi, that Kiyoomi cares for him, that he means a lot to him, that the other is of infinite significance and regard to him and that apparently, he loves him more than anything else. He didn’t love him as if a mere lover. Atsumu loved him as if he was the home that he tried so hard to find, as if he were the envelope of safety and closeness that he never knew he needed, a sense of familiarity and acceptance that even Osamu cannot give him.
They made up, like they always do. It took a few more days, but they made up. Atsumu had attended his graduation and had surprised him by meeting him at the exit of the venue. They had yet to speak prior to that, but Atsumu had whisked him away to a hilltop that they had found several years ago and had easily become their favorite place. Apologies were exchanged, teasing remarks floating through the air, banter flitting in and out of their conversation as they sat beside each other with easy smiles on their faces, Kiyoomi leaning into Atsumu’s shoulder as they watch the sun set in a level of comfort that only they have with one another.
Atsumu looks to his shoulder and sees the sleeping man beside him, the same picture being painted in front of him right now. The steady rise and fall of the other’s chest, the occasional scrunch of his nose, the flutter of his eyes beneath the pale lashes, the slow rise of said lashes revealing the onyx that has entranced Atsumu since their first meeting.
“What are you doing still up? And why are you staring at me?” Kiyoomi asked, his deep voice breathy and cracking from unuse.
“Yer droolin’ Omi.”
“I don’t drool, Atsu. Go to sleep, you know you’re going to regret this in the morning.” The other had said, annoyance lacing his voice at being woken up.
Still, even as the other goes back to sleep, he continues to watch him for a few more minutes. Once he was sure that the other was asleep, he whispered the words that he hopes he will have the courage to let Kiyoomi hear one day.
“I love you.”
He closes his eyes, and if he feels the other’s hold on him get tighter, he doesn’t mind; if he hears him, then he doesn’t care. Platonic, or romantic, Atsumu has made up his mind that he will let the other know. He doesn’t care if whether or not it will be reciprocated, he loves Kiyoomi not because he wants him to love him back, he loves him for the sake of it, he loves him because of countless reasons both trivial and substantial, for reasons that he’s collected over the years, Atsumu can safely say, he loves Sakusa Kiyoomi.
===============
Kiyoomi had asked him last night to accompany him somewhere. It was New Year’s Eve and they had decided to just go to Tokyo tomorrow after spending the past few days in Amagasaki with the Miya’s. The majority of which were determined to adopt Kiyoomi since he was made Atsumu’s friend that one summer when they were six years old. Successfully coming back to their shared apartment in Osaka without having a change in family structure, they were both getting ready for wherever Kiyoomi wanted to take them.
“Do I need extra clothes or somethin’? Like are we stayin’ overnight somewhere or?” Atsumu called out to the other, who was also getting ready in his room.
“No, just bundle up, I know how easily you get cold.”
“Oh, so were stayin’ outside fer some time?” Atsumu asked walking to the other’s door.
“This okay?” he asked spreading his arms.
Kiyoomi felt his mouth dry up when he saw that the other was wearing, black thermal leggings –where in the ever-loving fuck did he get that– the fabric was hugging his legs perfectly. For his top, he had on a maroon long sleeved turtle neck, to top the look off, he had on a cream trench coat, which, if Kiyoomi wasn’t mistaken, was his. Atsumu also had a black scarf on his hand for when he will get inevitably colder. His hair was also undone and was a mass of platinum gold on his head, his roots were also beginning to show making Kiyoomi want to run his fingers through it.
“Yeah, just get a thicker coat on the coat rack I guess, get the black one, the other colors will clash if you choose different.” Kiyoomi said managing to keep his voice level despite wanting to kiss and/or cuddle the man in front of him.
Unbeknownst to him, Atsumu wasn’t any better. Kiyoomi had on a thick dark gray sweater which fit perfectly on his lean frame making him look taller and his limbs look much more appealing, he wore black jeans accentuating each curve of his legs, he had a dark brown blazer resting on his bed and alike with Atsumu, he had a black scarf reserved for the cold.
“Finish yourself up. Were going in a few.” Kiyoomi said turning to look at him as he took his small pouch of sanitizers and disinfectants from his drawer. Atsumu left wordlessly worried that if he spoke, he would only embarrass himself before their day even began.
Atsumu went to get his shoes from the rack near the front door when he stops in his tracks, there he finds Kiyoomi stomping his designer boots to fit his foot snuggly, pulling at his blazer adjusting to get any creases out, in a fashion that only he could be capable of doing. Each movement was calculated, no gesture too big nor requires too much energy. He drapes the scarf over a hook on the coat rack and retrieves his white coat and wears it in one fluid motion. He looks absolutely breathtaking, the cold aura of winter surrounding him, the bluish hue of the light streaming from the windows making the white coat appear luminous, the lower half of his face hidden by his trademark mask, the upper half framed by his thin rimmed black glasses that never failed to make Atsumu wish he had gone to university with him.
He started tapping on his phone when he was finished with the adjustments in his clothing, clicking his tongue a few times, a sign that he was annoyed, or that he had to compromise something he really wanted. It was then that he decided to make his presence known by walking to the shoe rack near the other. Kiyoomi turns to look at him when the movement catches his eye and he feels his breath get caught in his throat.
Atsumu had always been a warm person, the warm hue of his skin tone, the warmth of his personality, the fire that burns with his passion, the flames of his wit and extraversion. Looking at him now, he seems like a foreign being in a world so cold. To Kiyoomi, he liked it better when Atsumu was surrounded by the hues of autumn, the reds, yellows, and oranges of the fallen leaves surrounding him, the crunch of the leaves when he goes out of his way to crush them under his foot. He loves seeing Atsumu surrounded by leafless branches, the color of the fallen leaves reflecting into his brown eyes giving them a maroon hue rather than its current dull grayish brown.
Even then, he loves seeing Atsumu like this, bundled up with layers upon layers of clothing trying to keep himself warm despite already being buried in the fabric. He loves seeing Atsumu nuzzle himself into the heated car seat, he loves it when he gets pouty when his ears start to get cold, he loves seeing his little nose scrunch before he sneezes, he loves that, despite running out of clothing, he always drapes his coats on the other after more than an hour outside. He loves seeing Atsumu beside him. He loves seeing Atsumu. He loves Atsumu. Period. And he knew it, he knew it before they moved in together, he knew before they reached their third year, he knew before they went to represent Japan at U-19 together. He didn’t know when he started to feel such a way but he didn’t care, to him, having Atsumu in his life was a constant, and loving Atsumu came only second to that.
“Ready to go?” Kiyoomi asks him after he has snapped out of his reverie. Getting the nod he needed, he opened the door and led the, to the elevator.
Kiyoomi had debated for so long about when he would confess. He didn’t know how he would go about it but he figured that he could just take Atsumu out for the day, to his favorite ramen place in Osaka, to his favorite sports shop, where he was ready to buy half the store, and lastly, despite the cold, to their hilltop. He plans to confess at the hilltop where they had their first day out together with no one else, a day out when there was no Motoya, no Osamu, only them. He didn’t know why, but somehow, they kept coming back to that same spot, their hilltop with a large oak tree on top.
He was nervous to say the least, he didn’t want to lose the blond as a friend, but he didn’t know if he could take it any further. Atsumu had always been part of his life, but, as selfish as it is, that wasn’t enough for him, not anymore. Truth be told a few days ago, when Atsumu had fallen asleep due to a food coma, he had talked to his parents and by extension a few of his closest family members, if he could have permission to date Atsumu. Kiyoomi was stunned when his parents, Osamu and their little sister, who was about three years younger, began to give banknotes to the smug Rintarou sitting beside his pouting boyfriend.
Needless to say, he had been given the shovel talk by Osamu, was cooed at by his parents, had unknowingly given blackmail material to Rintarou, and was forced to spend the rest of their stay with their sister because “Tsumu-nii is going to steal you away again, yer mine fer now, Omi-nii.” He was ecstatic, the others family had accepted his wishes, although he would have been fine not knowing that he should fear Miya Osamu, but that didn’t matter now, he just had to confess to Atsumu.
Right now, the other was filtering through the aisle to find a substitute to his favorite compression shorts which are apparently sold out for his size, he was pouting and clicking his tongue, a habit that they apparently shared, trying to look for a replacement for the ones at home which had a few holes in them. Kiyoomi made his way to help him, taking a pair from a brand that he had been using for a while now and gave it to Atsumu to look at. The questioning gaze stared at him before taking the shorts and running his fingers through the material, giving it a few stretches for good measure, he could feel that the other was impressed. Putting back the other one in his hand, he looked at Kiyoomi and tilted his head in question. The other pointed to the rack behind him, Atsumu running to look for the sales personnel to ask for more shorts.
Kiyoomi stared at him fondly as he rummaged through the rack once more trying to find who-knows-what on the rack. The staff came back with five more shorts, which Atsumu tucked under his arm. Continuing to flip through the hangers, he finally managed to find what he was looking for. He approached Kiyoomi and pushed the article of clothing into his hands. It was a compression shirt, the exact shirt that he had in his closet at home. He nodded at Atsumu making the other pump his fist in victory as he called the staff again to ask for more of the shirts, he didn’t have the heart to tell him that he had just bought three two weeks ago. Backtracking, he realized exactly how he had referred to their shared apartment. Home. He quite likes the sound of that. Home. His home. His home with Atsumu. No. His Atsumu is home.
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Catching up to Kiyoomi, Atsumu sees him unfolding a blanket and setting it down in a way that they can lean on the tree while they say side by side. Atsumu set the thick blanket that the other made him carry, down near where they were supposed to sit and took off his shoes, then leaned on the tree while unravelling the comforter and pulling it to cover his body. Doing the same, Kiyoomi sat beside him and pulled at on end of the comforter to share with the other. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, enjoying the silence enveloping them as they sat beside each other, sharing a blanket and their body heat, in a way that they have done countless times before.
Kiyoomi looked up from where he was leaning his head against Atsumu’s own. He moved so that he was facing the other, making Atsumu look at him questioningly. He could feel his heart beating faster, he was going to do it, he thought. All his rehearsed lines, his practiced composure was gone with a snap of a finger, losing it further the longer Atsumu stares at him. Kiyoomi takes a gloved hand and starts to stroke the other’s cheekbone. He nuzzles the warm touch making Kiyoomi’s breath catch in his throat again.
“I have something to tell you.” Kiyoomi whispered finally.
“Yeah?” Atsumu said.
“Yeah. Can you please not interrupt me when I start?” He asked softly.
“Course Omi, take as long as ya need.” Kiyoomi breathed deeply and looked Atsumu in the eyes. He was shocked by the conviction that he could see, the degree of finality and determination in his eyes were something familiar to Atsumu, however he only sees it on the court, or when they clean. Having his intimidating gaze directed at him, in the dim light of the lamppost made him feel warm inside, in a way that he would never dare tell anyone.
“You’re my best friend, you know that right? Actually, no, don’t answer that, it’ll get to your head. How do I even begin?” Kiyoomi sighed, his hands coming up to rub at his face. Atsumu took one of his hands and began drawing small circles on his wrists with his thumbs. The tension in the raven’s shoulders vanished as he enjoyed the warmth of the gesture.
“Okay. I’m okay, I think. What I mean to say is…” he paused and took a deep breath. “I like you. I have for a while now, hell, I love you. You’re my best friend, I don’t ever want to lose you because of my feelings, but I feel like I’m taking advantage of your friendship whenever I reap your affections. I know you’re caring to everyone, but damn, don’t I feel special whenever you do such for me.
“I love the way you care for me as if it was nothing, I love the way you move to accommodate me. I love the way that you let me do things for you too, and not just the other way around, I love it when you show me vulnerability that you never dare show anyone, I love when you come to me not only when I need you but also when you need me, but most of all, I love that you’re so unafraid of me, even from when we first met, to our first real conversation, to our first play-date, to our first fight, even as we grow up. I love that you seem to be the side of me that I didn’t even know was part of me, I love when people say that we’re practically the same person because, oh what I would give to be like you. Your radiance, your beauty, your brilliance, your skill, just, you. You are an exceptional man, Miya Atsumu, and I wish that this exceptional man will give me a chance to show him that I am worthy of his valuable company and attention.”
Somewhere in the middle of his rambling, Kiyoomi looked away, but the hands around his never left, they’ve stilled, most likely from shock, but they never left. Mustering up his courage, he looks Atsumu in the eyes only to find them and two distinct tracks on his face wet. His eyes widen as he finds a new bout of tears dripping from the other’s face, he moves to take his hands away from the grip around his wrists when he suddenly finds himself with his arms full of a sniffling Miya Atsumu. His hands move to wrap the blanket around them pulling the other closer to him until he was sat in his lap.
“Did I say something wrong?” Kiyoomi asks. The head buried on the crook of his neck shakes to deny his assumption.
“Why are you crying then?”
“Ya’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that.” Atsumu said.
“You mean…” Kiyoomi starts, but the other cuts him off.
“Yes, longer than ya most likely.”
“I beg to differ.” The raven replies.
“Oh yeah? When then?” Atsumu asks the competitive tone in voice not unlike anything Kiyoomi has heard before.
“Around second year, I guess.”
“Ha! I have ya beat Omi, I had it since yer first year at uni, I only realized in yer last year though but that doesn’t matter.” Atsumu said sticking his tongue at the other.
With fond eyes, he reaches out and grabs the tongue sticking out before he takes his other hand to pull the mask down and leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek, all while still holding the tongue. Atsumu’s heart starts beating erratically, especially as the other’s warm soft lips touch his cheek. He could feel his face warm up to the point that he worries that there would be no blood left to circulate in his limbs.
“I meant second year high school, dumbass.” He said letting go of the other’s tongue. Atsumu being as flustered as he is, didn’t know what to do with himself, so his tongue was left hanging outside where Kiyoomi let go of it. The sight causes Kiyoomi to laugh as Atsumu struggles to piece together his thoughts.
“That long? How come ya never said anythin’?” he asks.
“Like I said, I never want to lose you, confessing back then, while we were so far apart, while our friendship was still so, dare I say it, fragile, it would have destroyed us. I’m glad I held back until now.” Kiyoomi explained.
“I never thought…”
“Neither did I. But I’m happy it’s you. I don’t really see anyone else loving me like you do, platonic or not.” Kiyoomi whispered to him.
“Ya actually love me.” Atsumu said disbelief clear on his face.
“I do. I love you.” Kiyoomi replied.
“Stop!” the blond said, his hand coming to cover the other’s mouth. He laughs as Atsumu turns his head away to hide the new blush forming.
Wrapping his hand around the other’s wrist, putting his other hand on Atsumu’s nape playing with the small hairs at the bottom of his undercut. He leans his head forward until their foreheads were touching, their breaths mingling together. He stops and lets Atsumu do what he wants, waiting if he will do what he wants him to. The blond begins to lean in, Kiyoomi remains unmoving, telling him that it’s all up to him, what Atsumu wants he will follow. When their lips met, the fireworks went off, literally. They pull apart as the sky is lit up with multiple colors of pyrotechnics. Kiyoomi laughs and leans in to touch their foreheads again. This time, they kiss each other for real, unlike the explosions surrounding them, everything was calm, in their own little bubble, this is how they came home. Under the barren oak tree, under the light of the fireworks, surrounded by each other’s warmth as they float in their own little universe.
===============
The morning after, Atsumu wakes up first, beside him, like many previous nights that they spent on the same bed, it shouldn’t feel different, but it does. Now, it wasn’t his best friend lying beside him, it’s his lover, his boyfriend, but nevertheless, he is still his Kiyoomi. The curly haired bastard that got mad when he was too loud; this bastard that was too high maintenance that he only wore luxury clothing; this bastard that only touched things that he, himself, sanitized; this bastard that will not eat anything that wasn’t perfectly seasoned; this bastard that dragged him by his sterilized-glove clad hand by his throat and made him fall for him.
Looking at him, with sunlight kissing his dark hair, spread around his head, as if a halo given by Erebus himself. His eyelids closed hiding his dark menacing eyes. His mouth slightly agape letting out puffs of air with the same steady beat as the rise and fall of his chest. His pale skin dotted with a few blemishes and moles. This beautiful man, this man that he loves and how blessed is he, by all deities of all religions to have caught his heart as well.