yuar01
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Summary
The air in the room changed.
Music dulled, laughter thinned, and all Osamu could hear was his pulse—too fast, too loud, too alive.
Eight years. Eight whole years.
He’d imagined this moment a thousand different ways: screaming, crying, maybe even hugging.
But not this.
Not silence.
Not that cold, polite flicker of recognition that sliced through him like a clean blade.
Atsumu blinked once.
Whatever had sparked there—whatever raw, unfiltered something—he buried it instantly.
That practiced, neutral expression took its place. The one he wore on camera. The one that said nothing hurts me anymore.
And that? that was worse than if he’d yelled.
Because it meant Atsumu had learned how to live without him.or
Osamu quits volleyball, and I damn well know sht had to have gone down. This is a reimagining of a different way things could've gone.
So eight years of silence, and then—BOOM, BITCH—shit starts to feel real again.