Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sakusa Kiyoomi had always been a precise, meticulous, and dutiful boy.
Every gesture of his was measured, every decision carefully weighed.
He lived by strict rules he imposed on himself, as if only control could give him security in a world too chaotic.
He loved cleanliness, order, and could hardly tolerate any form of confusion or disorganization.
Even his passion for volleyball, discovered almost by chance, had turned into an area in which to apply his discipline.

It was his cousin Motoya who, years earlier, had pushed him toward volleyball.
That summer, as children, he had forced him to play with him in the yard almost every day, with a stubbornness that bordered on torture for Sakusa.
At first, he was reluctant—annoyed by the dust, the sweat, and the need to touch the same ball as someone else—but slowly, that activity became routine, then a challenge, then a passion. And when he started winning, started controlling every detail of the game with the same precision he used to fold clothes in his drawer, he realized volleyball would be part of him.

During his second year at Itachiyama Institute, he was called up for the youth training camp for the under-19 national team.
He knew it would be a valuable opportunity—a chance to grow and compete with the best—even if the idea of sharing spaces with strangers made him uneasy.
Hygiene, to him, was a necessity, not a whim, and the mere thought of shared bathrooms or messy beds gave him a subtle but constant discomfort.

That’s where he met Atsumu Miya.

Atsumu was his complete opposite.
Outgoing, arrogant, always ready to provoke.
He had an annoying way of drawing attention and seemed to enjoy getting under people's skin. But beneath that prickly personality lay pure talent: he was an extraordinary setter, a real prodigy with an instinctive grasp of the game that bordered on the animalistic.
He’d been called up to the camp alone, without his twin brother Osamu, and that had made him angry from day one.
He carried it with him like a dark cloud: brusque, grumpy, and unwilling to bond with anyone.

Between Sakusa and Atsumu, the first meeting was a silent clash of opposing worlds.
One orderly, the other chaotic.
One reserved, the other explosive.
And yet, the volleyball court didn’t allow for contradictions.

Sakusa watched him from a distance, arms crossed, expression dark.
Atsumu was talking to one of the first-year setters, a nervous and insecure boy who nodded too much and smiled too quickly.
The blond, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease, with that usual arrogant expression and his hands moving as he explained something—his voice far too loud to go unnoticed.
He laughed, provoked, corrected with a smug tone, and every sentence seemed crafted to poke, to test.

Sakusa saw the exact moment the younger boy's expression changed: from uncertain to determined, as if that push—however annoying—had forced him to bring out something more.
Atsumu had that effect on people.
Annoying like a stone in your shoe but damn effective—and of course, he reveled in it.

His gaze wandered a few seconds more before settling on Kiyoomi.
Sakusa sighed, already resigned, and grimaced in pure contempt when he saw him walking toward him with overly confident steps, that smirk on his lips and the air of someone who had just had a brilliant idea.

«Oi, Omi» he called, stressing the stupid and insufferable nickname he had made up just to bother him.
«Did you fight with the net today or do you just enjoy hitting into the wall?»

Sakusa stared at him, expressionless, then shot him a glare that could have incinerated him on the spot.
He didn’t flinch, didn’t change his expression, but his voice was sharp as glass.

«Comments from someone with that horrible dyed blond hair don’t affect me at all.»

Then he turned his back without another word, leaving him there with that half-smile still on his lips and eyes that seemed to sparkle with amusement.
Sakusa walked away slowly, but the irritation clung to him like dust he couldn’t shake off.

Sakusa let out a long, weary sigh as that memory from three years ago came back to him with painfully vivid clarity.
He ran a hand over his face, his fingers sinking briefly into his dark hair as if trying to chase that moment from his mind, and cursed himself again—with the same lucidity of someone who knows they were wrong even if they thought they were being rational at the time.

He had chosen to join the MSBY Black Jackals because, among all the first division teams, they seemed to have the greatest potential for growth.
A young team, full of energy, with room to improve—and the raven-haired man had considered stats, performances, infrastructure, and playing philosophy.
Every detail.
Or so he thought.

The one mistake, the one that would cost him his mental peace—and maybe his physical peace too—was not checking the actual members of the team.
A detail he had underestimated, convinced nothing could surprise someone like him anymore. And yet, just after signing the contract, still wearing his mask, the coach began listing names from the staff and player roster.
Just one name, one was enough, to make him lower his gaze and clench his jaw under the fabric.

“Miya Atsumu.”

It was spoken casually, as if it weren’t a death sentence.
Sakusa’s face twisted in pure disgust, even if hidden by the mask.
His eyes narrowed in an involuntary grimace and his mind clouded for a moment.

Now, with his bag slung over his shoulder and his steps headed toward the gym, he bitterly scolded himself for having left that one detail up to chance.
He should have known.
He should have checked.
It was unlike him to forget something so important.

He closed his eyes for a second, inhaled deeply, and as he approached the entrance, told himself that maybe—with a bit of luck and a lot of self-control—he could survive this too.
Maybe.

Sakusa entered the gym for the first time with a confident step and a watchful eye, ready to evaluate every detail of his new environment—but what he saw was nothing like what he’d imagined.

Hinata and Bokuto were bouncing around the court like two hyperactive springs, shouting something incomprehensible and chasing each other around the net for reasons that, in all likelihood, made no sense at all.
It was a real circus, a festival of chaos and hyperactivity.
Sakusa paused, frozen, as if trying to assess whether he had entered the wrong building.

Given what had happened after signing the contract, he had done his research: names, roles, statistics.
He wanted to know who he would be sharing the court, the work, the fatigue with.
He knew Meian, the captain, who at that moment was watching them with an expression halfway between shock and resignation, shaking his head slowly like a disappointed father.
Not far off, leaning against the wall and typing something on his phone, was him.

The designated cause of his future nightmares. Miya Atsumu.

The captain noticed him right away and approached with a firm step, extending his hand in greeting.

«I'm Meian Shugo. Welcome to the team.»
Sakusa studied him for a second before shaking his hand, immediately feeling a tingling itch in his palm from the contact.
A subtle, instant irritation.
«Sakusa Kiyoomi. Nice to meet you.»

His polite yet detached tone immediately caught the attention of the others.
Hinata stopped bouncing, Bokuto followed suit, and within moments, every eye was on him.

«Well, well, look who we have here» said a voice Sakusa would have recognized from miles away.
«I never thought I’d see you again, dear Omi. What a pleasure.»

That nickname and the teasing, almost amused tone made him tense up instantly.
He grimaced, his eyes flashing with irritation as they landed on the blond.
Atsumu had finally toned his hair to a lighter, more natural blonde — a shame, really, that his attitude remained exactly the same.

«Miya» he murmured, icy.
«Can’t say the same about you.» he added in a flat tone.

Then he turned away without saying another word, briefly introduced himself to the rest of the team — carefully ignoring the smug grin on Atsumu’s lips — and headed to the locker room.
He opened his duffel bag, placed it on the bench with a slow, precise gesture, then sat down for a moment, closing his eyes.

«Breathe. You can do this. Don’t commit murder on your first day» he muttered quietly, gripping his knees to calm himself.
It was only the beginning, but he already knew it was going to be a long season.

It had been three months since they’d started playing together and — against all logic, all expectations, and especially against their initial will —
Sakusa and Atsumu had become an exceptional duo.

They didn’t need to speak or even look at each other: every set from the blond landed perfectly in Sakusa’s palm, as if the two of them shared a secret, instinctive language — one encoded purely through the rhythm of the game.
And the most surprising thing of all was that the raven-haired player felt no discomfort.

On the court, they were synchronized, ruthless, precise.
Off the court, however, was a whole different story.

In the beginning, every single time they left the court, they ended up arguing.
Anything was enough to spark it: a stray comment, a snide remark, a side glance.
They seemed like entirely different people from the ones dominating the court together — but over time, the arguments had lessened.
Not because Atsumu had stopped provoking him — in fact, his provocations came as reliably as an alarm clock —
but because Sakusa, tired and resigned, had learned to ignore him.
At least most of the time.

Then, one ordinary afternoon before practice, the coach gathered them all at the center of the court.
His voice firm, his expression serious.
He had an announcement, something the staff had been considering for a while.

«To improve training logistics and make transportation easier, we’ve decided to rent a shared apartment for players who live farther from the gym.»

Silence. Then three simultaneous explosions.

«AN APARTMENT?!» shouted Hinata, Bokuto, and Atsumu, visibly thrilled like kids on the eve of a school trip.
They were already daydreaming about gaming nights, karaoke, and — probably — complete domestic anarchy.

Sakusa, meanwhile, stood still.
His gaze darkened, staring into nothing.
Horrific images were already flashing through his mind: piles of dirty dishes, shoes strewn everywhere, damp towels on the couch, hair in the sink, and an incalculable number of crumbs.

He shook his head slowly, almost imperceptibly, then stepped forward.

«Coach» he began, calm but firm,
«I’d prefer to keep using public transportation. I can manage, really. It’s not a problem.»

But his attempt was in vain, and the coach smiled patiently before replying
«I’m sorry, Sakusa but the decision’s already been made. We want to optimize time and energy. The selected players are you four.»

The final blow, of course, came from Atsumu.
«Oh come on, this is going to be so much fun!» he exclaimed, far too enthusiastically — purely to annoy him — as he laid a hand on his shoulder.
«You and me, roommates. Who would've guessed, huh, Omi? Waking up together every day. What a blast!»

He threw in a few more jokes — something dumb about who would clean the bathroom or whether Sakusa would disinfect every tile before showering —
but Kiyoomi stopped listening after the word roommates.
His gaze slowly dropped to the ball in his hands.
It would take so little.
A quick move, a precise throw. He could hurl it right at his face and maybe, just maybe, no one would blame him.

But he held back, barely.
He took a deep breath, turned without a word, and began walking toward the end line, gripping the ball like it was the only thing anchoring him to sanity.

It was official.
Hell was about to begin.

Sakusa had moved into the apartment with the same resignation one faces a painful but unavoidable operation.
The moment he stepped inside, he immediately claimed the room furthest down the hall—the one with the sturdiest door and the smallest window.

He wanted his privacy.
He needed it.

It was the only way to preserve a shred of sanity in a house already destined to become a battlefield.

For the move, he had enlisted the help of his cousin Komori, who, between huffs and amused chuckles, helped carry boxes and arrange the bulkier items.
Once the move was done, Sakusa wasted no time: he immediately began cleaning from top to bottom.
Every corner, every surface, even the door frames.
Not only out of his obsessive need for order and sterility, but also because cleaning helped occupy his mind, stopping thoughts of him—and the fact that from now on they shared the same roof.

One evening, while awkwardly trying to make dinner—or at least avoid burning the pan—he heard the door open and close with a sharp snap.
He sighed without turning around, already resigned.
Peace was over.

A few seconds later, as expected, Atsumu’s voice filled the apartment.
He was on the phone—or rather, arguing.
His clipped cadence and marked accent left no doubt who was on the other line.

«’Samu I already told you I didn’t eat your onigiri, I’m not that asshole! You said you needed them for your clients!»
His tone was exasperated, tense, charged with anger that sounded more wounded than genuine.

Sakusa poured the rice onto his plate, trying not to listen, but Atsumu’s words came through clearly down the corridor.

«Go to hell! Do you really think that of me?!»
Then a moment of silence, followed by a more heartfelt, almost pleading exclamation.
«We’re supposed to support each other, damn it... we’re twi—»

Footsteps drew nearer and Sakusa looked up just in time to see him appear at the kitchen doorway. Atsumu froze when he saw him, as if only then realizing he wasn’t alone.
His face changed, and he looked down.

«…Sorry, I thought nobody was home» he murmured quietly, almost embarrassed. Then, without another word, he turned and closed himself in his room.

Sakusa remained still, eyes fixed on the spot where the blond had disappeared.
He was stunned.
He had never heard him apologize.
Never.
He slowly shook his head, still incredulous, as he sat down at the table.

So miracles do exist, he thought, before finally starting to eat.

During the week, Sakusa found himself watching Atsumu with growing, silent astonishment.
Against all expectations—and contrary to everything he'd assumed—the blond was the only one among the three roommates who, after eating, cleaned and tidied the kitchen without being asked.
He was the only one who left the shower clean, no hair in the drain or water splashes anywhere, and put dirty clothes in the hamper.
A behavior that, to Sakusa, bordered on miraculous.
Hinata and Bokuto, on the other hand, seemed to live in a constant state of organized chaos, and he had no intention of checking on the state of their rooms.
He already had enough to worry about, and his mental health was more important than his curiosity.

That evening, by a forced coincidence or maybe just exhaustion, he and Atsumu ended up sharing dinner.
It was rare, considering each tended to eat when and however they wanted, but this time it happened.
Sakusa was seated at the table, finishing tidying his bowl, when Atsumu approached holding a jar in his hand.

«Want some umeboshi?» he asked, in an unusually calm tone.
He didn’t know they were the raven-haired one’s favorite; he asked almost casually.

Sakusa looked at him for a moment, hesitant, then nodded.
«…Yes, thanks.»

And that was the beginning.
Eating slowly, they found themselves talking.
Nothing major, at least at first.
A few words about the new training, about the day’s heat, about how unruly Bokuto was when he got too excited—but then Atsumu looked up at him and changed his tone.

«I’m sorry» he said simply.
«For how I was, I mean, and how I’ve acted these past months. I know I’ve been… annoying, but if it’s okay with you, I thought maybe we could put the provocations aside. Call it some kind of truce. And… maybe, in time, you could even consider us friends, not just roommates.»

Sakusa stared at him, incredulous.
It was as if a three-headed monster had appeared before him and not Miya Atsumu.
The blond didn’t have his usual arrogant smile but a shy, tentative, almost sincere one, and his cheeks were slightly flushed.

Sakusa remained motionless, silent, gaze fixed on the other’s face. He only snapped out of it when he felt his name called.

«Omi...?»

«Mhmfh…» he mumbled something unintelligible, then cleared his throat and said more clearly
«Fine. Peace.»
He paused, then curled his lips into a slightly annoyed smirk.
«But we will never be friends.»

Atsumu chuckled, shaking his head, but didn’t seem offended, quite the opposite.
«We’ll see.»

He finished eating, then stood up and, with slow, calm movements, placed his utensils in the dishwasher.
Sakusa watched him from behind, in silence.
Maybe, he thought, this cohabitation wouldn’t be total hell.

The friendly match had gone on far longer than expected, reaching a fifth set against a local team that had given them a real challenge, and Sakusa was exhausted.
He had just one wish: to go home, collapse into bed, and sleep until the next day, skipping dinner and any other activity requiring movement, too much thinking, or human interaction.

He was dragging his feet toward the gym exit when a hurricane —otherwise known as Miya Atsumu—raced past him, stopping abruptly a few steps away.

«Omi! You’ve got to do me a favor!» he exclaimed, eyes wide and hands clasped as if praying.

Sakusa raised an eyebrow, confused and visibly irritated.
He exhaled sharply.
«What do you want, Miya? I'm tired and don’t feel like dealing with your games.»

Atsumu shook his head with unusual seriousness.
«It’s serious, I swear. Help me, please. I’m exhausted too and just want to go home.»

Sakusa stared at him for a moment, then sighed again, already regretting his own willingness.
«Speak.»

The blond's face lit up instantly.
«Thanks! Okay, so a few days ago I made plans with a girl to go out but completely forgot about the outing. Now I’m way too tired to go, so you have to cover for me while I hide.»

Sakusa looked at him with an expression somewhere between shocked and appalled.
«Didn’t passing a text or calling her never cross your empty head, I guess.»

Atsumu ignored the not so kind remark and rushed to add,
«I forgot, I got caught up in the hype!»

The raven-haired just opened his mouth, ready to refuse outright—but didn’t have the chance.
He saw Atsumu glance over his shoulder, then bolt toward the nearest storage room, disappearing inside.
Before he could fully grasp the situation, a female voice called to him from behind.

Damn Miya, Sakusa thought, turning slowly.

A rather pretty girl stood before him, wearing a timid smile.
«Excuse me, you’re a teammate of Atsumu’s, right?»

Sakusa nodded, the mask hiding the grimace that had spread across his face.
«Have you seen him by any chance? We... had a date, but I can’t find him anywhere.»

She looked truly confused, even disappointed.
Sakusa wondered what someone like her could see in a condescending, narcissistic jerk like Atsumu—but this wasn’t the time to ask that question, nor ask her.

His voice broke the silence before he could stop it.
«Didn’t he tell you…?» he murmured, trailing his words just enough before continuing

«Osamu, his brother, had an emergency at work. Atsumu had to go help him.
He left before practice ended.»

His tone was flat, controlled.
He himself was surprised by his own acting skill.

The girl visibly brightened and for a moment Sakusa feared she might burst into tears. Instead, she gave a slight nod and turned away.
«I understand. Thanks anyway.»

She quickly passed him, head lowered.
Sakusa watched her go with a heavy sigh. Then he heard the storage room door open behind him and Atsumu’s overly excited voice echo out.

«Omi, you’re a genius! I swear I could hug you right now!»

Sakusa spun around in horror, instinctively stepping back, and lowered his mask just enough to shoot him a killer glare.
«Please, don't!.»

Then he pulled it back up and, without another word, walked out of the gym, finally free.
Behind him, Atsumu’s light laughter followed him like a persistent echo. And, as much as he didn’t want to admit it—maybe—it wasn’t as annoying anymore.

«Tsum, watch out!» shouted Hinata, but it was already too late.
Bokuto’s spike hit him square in the face during a three-on-three, with a dull thud that echoed through the silence that immediately followed.
The ball had been traveling at over a 100 km/h and the hit—right on the bridge of the nose—was as violent as it was precise.

Atsumu collapsed to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

In an instant, everyone moved.
Including Sakusa.

Sakusa immediately noticed the blood starting to pour copiously from the blond’s nose.
He quickly looked around, expecting someone to step in.
Instead, he saw Bokuto pale as a sheet, looking guilty and shocked as if he’d just killed someone.
Hinata grabbed him by the arms, afraid he might faint at the sight of their setter in that state, while Meian ran to get towels and ice.

Before his brain could even register the thought, Sakusa found himself on his knees next to Atsumu, helping him into a sitting position.

«Miya, are you okay? Can you hear me?» he asked with a tone tinged with concern, something rarely heard in his voice.

The setter’s eyes landed on his face, and Sakusa immediately noticed the dazed, glassy look in his gaze.
He placed a hand behind Atsumu’s neck, completely ignoring the sticky sweat on his skin and the slight burning sensation rising in his palm.

He let out a relieved breath when Atsumu slowly nodded.
«Let me see» he added, motioning with his head to signal him to move his hand away from his nose.
The blond complied cautiously, but as soon as his face was uncovered, a fresh stream of blood began to flow rapidly.

Sakusa acted quickly, pinching his nose shut again with firm pressure.
«It’s okay, it’ll stop soon» he murmured calmly in the tense silence, where only the sound of held breaths and Meian’s approaching footsteps could be heard.

When the captain arrived, Sakusa gestured for him to pass a towel.
«Spit» he instructed Atsumu, sensing he might have blood and clots in his throat.
The blond obeyed without protest.
Sakusa took a second towel, dabbed the blood, and placed ice on top of it, shielding the skin from direct contact to avoid a cold burn.

«Don’t tilt your head back, idiot» he snapped when he saw him trying to do so and firmly pushed his head forward into the correct position.

Only when the situation began to stabilize did the adrenaline give way to awareness.
Sakusa looked down at his hands: they were covered in blood.

And it wasn’t his.

There were red stains on his uniform—distinct, like an indelible mark.
He froze, suddenly detached from the chaos around him.

Everyone was staring at him, shocked.
No one had ever seen Sakusa Kiyoomi so close to someone, let alone covered in a teammate’s blood.

«I’m going to wash up» he finally said, voice flat and spent, standing and walking toward the locker room with the stiff gait of an automaton.

Once inside, he scrubbed himself thoroughly.
He kept rubbing even after he was clean, until his skin burned.
He changed into a long tracksuit, carefully sealed his bloodstained uniform in a plastic bag, and tucked it into his backpack with near-manic precision.

When he heard Meian’s voice, he barely turned his head.

«Kiyoomi, are you okay?»

He nodded.
He didn’t add anything, but with that nod, the captain gave him permission to go home early.

«Thanks» he murmured softly, gathering his things.

He left the scene at a calm pace, seemingly indifferent—but in his mind, like an image burned onto his retina, the terrified look in the blond’s eyes resurfaced.

Sakusa was shopping at the local supermarket with the expression of someone who’d rather be anywhere else.
Not that he was ever enthusiastic about grocery stores, but this time he had a very specific reason to be annoyed: Hinata and Bokuto had come up with the brilliant idea of organizing a team dinner.
A dinner “among friends” as they called it—as if they didn’t already spend enough time together at practices, trips, and through forced cohabitation.

He had tried to get out of it.
He made up excuses, hinted at fake commitments, even tried to play on his general aloofness but Meian wouldn’t hear it. It was a team dinner, and everyone had to be there. No exceptions.

Resigned, Sakusa sighed as he stared at yet another shelf.
He thought back to the group messages full of emojis, excessive enthusiasm, and questionable food suggestions.
Meanwhile, he was picking up random items: a few packs of pasta, a bottle of oil, a bag of chips—he had no clue what he could possibly cook.
His culinary skills were close to nonexistent.

Just as he was weighing whether to grab a jar of ready-made sauce or fake a sudden illness and go home, a familiar voice called out.

«Omi!»

Sakusa closed his eyes for a second, already resigned, before turning to see Atsumu approaching with a basket on his arm.

«Miya. Do I have to run into you everywhere… are you following me?»

The blond laughed and shook his head, amused.
«Hate to crush your dreams, but I’m here to pick something up for tomorrow’s dinner» he replied, showing the contents of his basket.

Sakusa raised an eyebrow.
«You can cook? Wasn’t Osamu the one who basically always fed you?»

Atsumu looked at him for a moment, embarrassed, before putting on a mock-offended face.
«’Samu may have a restaurant, but I can cook too! I can make lots of dishes!» he declared proudly, then peered into Sakusa’s cart and added with a mocking tone,
«Unlike you, apparently.»

Sakusa shot him a sharp glare.
«Mind your own business.»

But before he could stop him, he saw Atsumu drop his own basket into his cart and move to stand beside him.
With a light shoulder bump, he nudged Sakusa aside, taking control of the cart like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sakusa stared at him, confused and slightly annoyed by the sudden touch.

«I’ll help you. Make sure you pick some decent food, I don’t want to end up with food poisoning before the tournament starts» the blond declared, confidently pointing at what to grab from the shelves.

Sakusa, reluctant but disarmed, ended up following the directions without even realizing it.
Within minutes, he found himself with a much more sensible cart, and with a certain irritation, he realized that Atsumu actually knew what he was doing.

At the checkout, while Sakusa was paying, Atsumu turned to him with a genuine smile.
«If you need help in the kitchen, you can knock on my door anytime, no problem!»

Sakusa was caught off guard and looked away before mumbling

«Why are you acting like this...?»

He was clutching the bags when he heard the blond reply, without a hint of hesitation.

«You know why. Remember I told you I want to become your friend? Or at least try. And... take it as a thank you for what you did for me when Bokuto hit me.»

He said it with no shame, sincerely, and Sakusa bit the inside of his cheek, caught off guard by such disarming honesty.

«I have to go now, got more errands to run. See you at home!» Atsumu called out, waving cheerfully as he walked out of the supermarket without waiting for a reply.

Sakusa stood there for a moment, still holding the bags, watching him leave.
Then he lowered his gaze and shook his head slightly.
That idiot was really starting to get under his skin without Sakusa even realizing it.

The following afternoon, Sakusa found himself in front of the stove, his expression somewhere between resigned and annoyed.
Too proud to knock on Atsumu’s door as suggested, he had decided to ask the only person he had always known: his cousin.

They spent a few hours locked in the room and the result was... decent.

The kitchen was filled with a spicy, slightly briny aroma, and a steaming pot of takoyaki sat in the middle of the table.
They didn’t look exactly restaurant-quality, but they were edible. By their standards, at least.

Sakusa let out a deep sigh, dropping into the chair as if the weight of the world had landed on his shoulders, while across the table, his cousin openly laughed.

«Asshole... I’d like to see you in my place tonight» he muttered, rubbing his temples.

«I’m not the antisocial one, Kiyo. I’d get along with everyone and you know it» the other replied with an innocent air, while Sakusa huffed in annoyance and mimicked his cousin with a perfectly stupid expression.

A glance at the clock on the wall brought him back to reality.
«I need to get ready. I just hope no one gets sick» he admitted honestly, biting the inside of his cheek as he stared doubtfully at the contents of the pot.

He said goodbye to his cousin and went upstairs.
He needed a shower, a change of clothes, and possibly, to mentally prepare for the evening.

The hot water helped him relax a little.
After washing and drying himself carefully, he put on a black, short-sleeved shirt – simple but elegant – that fit snugly around his chest, and a pair of equally sober but well-tailored black pants.
In front of the mirror, he patiently arranged his curls using a wide-toothed comb, before spraying deodorant and a touch of cologne on his neck and wrists.

He gathered his dirty clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket, leaving the bathroom as clean as always, and stepped out of the room with a determined stride.

At that moment, the door across the hall opened.
Atsumu came out of his room and their eyes met.
Sakusa noticed him freeze for a moment, the blond’s gaze lingering a bit too long, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
Kiyoomi felt a shiver down his spine but blamed it on the sudden temperature change between rooms.

«It’s all yours» he murmured in a neutral tone.

When he saw Atsumu staring at him with a stunned expression, he raised an eyebrow and added, just a touch lighter,
«The bathroom.»

Only then did the blond seem to realize.
He blushed visibly and looked down, mumbling
«Thanks» before quickly slipping into the room.

Sakusa stood there another moment, then shook his head slightly and headed to the kitchen, trying not to think too much about that look.

He grabbed his jacket, phone, and wallet, carefully placing them in his pockets before picking up the tray of takoyaki, the result of his improbable mission with his cousin.
He left the house at a measured pace, heading to their captain’s place who — for some reason, or perhaps just out of wild optimism — had agreed to host the team’s night in.

Crazy, Sakusa thought, remembering the confident look on Meian’s face when he agreed.
Clearly, he still didn’t fully understand how Hinata — and especially Bokuto — could turn any environment into a battlefield within minutes.

When he arrived, he was greeted by Meian, Barnes, and Inunaki, already comfortable on the couch with drinks in hand.
He handed the tray to the landlord and took off his jacket with precise movements, hanging it by the entrance.
Just then, the doorbell rang again.

«Kiyoomi, can you open, please?» Meian called from the kitchen, busy preparing the final dishes.

Sakusa sighed and went to open the door.

Standing there were Bokuto, as enthusiastic as ever, and a shorter, composed young man.

«Omi-kun, hi! This is Akaashi, my gorgeous boyfriend!» the dual-haired man announced, wrapping an arm around the other like a trophy.

Sakusa was momentarily stunned.
Not that the idea of Bokuto having a boyfriend shocked him, but... He was Bokuto.
He hadn’t expected anyone to actually be able to handle the guy full-time — it seemed like a miracle.
However, Akaashi’s calm and composed demeanor, coupled with his simple smile and polite nod, explained a lot.
One glance was enough to see how that improbable balance worked: one’s calmness perfectly countered the other’s energy.

As the night unfolded, more teammates arrived, bringing food, alcohol, and the kind of chaotic energy that soon filled every corner of the house.
It wasn’t until Hinata showed up — which explained his earlier absence from the apartment — with Kageyama in tow, that Sakusa lost it.

«You’re kidding me?!» he snapped, glaring at Inunaki and Barnes.
«We could bring people and no one thought to tell me?!»

Of course, if he’d known, he would’ve brought Komori along to help him survive the chaos.

He resigned himself, in the end.
He ate little, choosing carefully and always using forks or toothpicks to avoid direct contact with the food.
Despite his efforts, the noisy and messy atmosphere started to overwhelm him.
He decided to have a drink, hoping at least some beer might help him get through the rest of the evening.

It was while he was sitting on the couch, a glass of beer in hand, that he saw Atsumu approaching.
The blond had a small plate with a few takoyaki and a curious expression.

«Is this seat taken?» he asked, pointing to the spot next to him.

Sakusa gave a slight nod with his head and shifted to make room.
He watched him nervously as he tasted one of the takoyaki, unconsciously biting his lip.

«Omi, these are good! I didn’t think you had it in you... honestly, I feared for the kitchen when I came back and heard noises. And then you didn’t even ask for help» the blond commented with a laugh.

Sakusa shot him a glare but then sighed.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was Atsumu’s genuine tone, but he found himself admitting, almost under his breath, that he hadn’t actually cooked them.

«I didn’t cook them» he confessed, voice low.
«I just mixed the ingredients and shaped them... the rest was my cousin.»

The blond chuckled and looked at him, amused.
«Well, at least we’re not getting sick, since Hinata already had six, and that would’ve been a mess.»

Sakusa couldn’t help but smile — a real, light one — though he quickly hid it behind a sip of beer.

«I saw that! You can’t fool me!» Atsumu exclaimed.

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, muttering
«Shut up, Miya. Try not to choke.»

Then he stood up, shaking his head with an expression that was somewhere between amused and irritated, and headed back to the drink station for another glass.
Maybe the night wasn’t a total loss after all.

Sakusa returned home by dinnertime, having spent the whole day out running errands and dealing with small tasks he had postponed for too long.
He had taken advantage of the day off from training to clear his head, but he still felt tired, as if the weight had settled on his shoulders instead of lifting off.

He entered the apartment quietly, ignoring the sound of the TV from the living room, and switched on the lights slowly, placing the grocery bags on the kitchen counter.

Only then did he realize he was... out of place.

Sakusa turned his gaze toward the sofa, expecting to find one of his roommates enjoying a moment of relaxation, but he nearly turned pale at the sight of Atsumu—who was uncomfortably close to a girl.
And not just any girl; he immediately recognized her as the one he had seen at the gym some time ago.
Their hands interlaced, hushed laughter, and an exasperating intimacy unfolding right there, on their sofa.

Sakusa stared at them with wide eyes, his mask still pulled up, unable to tell whether the disgust he felt was due to the idea of a “contaminated” sofa or something subtler, more visceral.
He coughed theatrically, loud enough to be noticed.
The blond practically jumped in the air.

«Omi! Hi! I didn’t expect you back so soon!»Atsumu exclaimed, his voice laden with an almost awkward tension.

Sakusa furrowed his brows, noticing something strange in Atsumu’s eyes—a look as if he wanted to say something silently, to convey a message without words.

«I’ve finished my rounds and I’m back…» Sakusa mumbled impassively, and he saw Atsumu suppress a sigh as he rose hastily, straightening himself.
Atsumu motioned for him to follow into the kitchen, keeping his distance as always, avoiding any contact, and Sakusa complied.

As soon as they were inside, Atsumu closed the door behind him.
Kiyoomi raised an eyebrow, ready to speak, but the blond was quicker, silencing him with a gesture.

«You didn’t read the messages I sent you, did you?» he asked, his tone hovering between resignation and guilt.

Sakusa shook his head slowly.
Atsumu pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

«I asked Bokuto and Hinata if they could stay over at Akaashi and Kageyama’s tonight, and I asked you if you could come back later—since, you know, you don’t... you don’t have a girl to stay with» he mumbled awkwardly, his voice uncertain as he lowered his gaze.

Sakusa bit the inside of his cheek, fending off a sudden thought that had flashed through his mind—a thought he deemed irrelevant—or at least, that’s what he wanted to believe.

«Uh, sorry… I guess. I don’t have notifications turned on and haven’t checked any chat, so I didn’t see them, but I could have gone to Motoya’s» he finally admitted, maintaining his steady gaze.

«It’s alright, don’t worry» Atsumu replied, though the tension was still palpable.
«Just... can you stay in your room?»

Sakusa sighed deeply, silently scrutinizing him for a few seconds before nodding.
«Just for this one time, Miya.»
His tone was serious, sharp, yet devoid of anger—only weariness and something even he couldn’t name.

He opened the refrigerator and took out a container of leftovers from the previous evening, adding without taking his eyes off the food,
«And please, keep your stuff in your room. We use that sofa too. It’s called respect.»

He saw Atsumu lower his gaze, embarrassed, before nodding solemnly. Then he opened the kitchen door again, allowing them each to return to their own “zone.”

Sakusa locked himself in his room, leaning his back against the door as it closed. He sighed deeply, more exhausted now than he had been all day, and let himself slump down against the wood.
He prayed with all his might that the distance between his room and the blond’s would be enough to keep him from hearing anything that might make him regret coming back and not reading the messages.

After that evening, the atmosphere between Sakusa and Atsumu became strangely awkward.
The first few days were marked by an unusual silence, with avoided glances and quiet footsteps in the hallways.
The morning after the incident, Kiyoomi woke up surprisingly well-rested, grateful not to have overheard anything unpleasant during the night—but that gratitude vanished as soon as he opened his door and found the blond’s girl strolling around the apartment, wearing nothing but a shirt—her very own, by the way.

Without saying a word, Sakusa immediately spun around, closed his door, and locked himself in, exhaling in exasperation as he texted Atsumu:
"Let me know when she leaves. I have no intention of coming out of here as long as she’s in the house."

The message received an embarrassed, guilty reply, and from then on, the blond tried every which way to make amends.
He began leaving small tokens in the kitchen every morning—onigiri and umeboshi, always carefully arranged on the table, accompanied by handwritten notes with simple apologies:
"Sorry for the other day."
"Forgive the trauma."
"I promise: no more stolen shirts."

At first, Sakusa stubbornly ignored them, but a few days later, during practice, Atsumu approached him in an almost serious tone to say,
«I swear I've washed my hands and cleaned everything up. You can eat in peace.»

Those words, spoken with that strange sincerity, melted something in the dark-haired guy’s chest.
From that moment on, he began to eat what Atsumu left for him every morning, gradually getting used to those small gestures—even though he would never admit it out loud, not even under torture.

In the meantime, the tension between them slowly dissolved, even off the court.
One day, during an especially intense practice, they found themselves paired up for a series of exercises.
Atsumu looked at him mischievously, noticing how preoccupied he seemed.

«Omi, are you sure you’re focused? Or are you still thinking about my guest?» he teased with that playful, mocking smile that only he could muster.

Sakusa didn’t respond, not in words at least. He hit the ball with more force than necessary, aiming perfectly in his direction, and the ball struck Atsumu squarely on the head.

«Ouch! Are you crazy?!» the blond complained, clutching his forehead with an almost childish expression.

«You deserved it» Sakusa mumbled, a small, satisfied smile briefly flashing before he returned to his position.

Over the following weeks, their dynamic changed.
The sharp jibes gave way to increasingly personal exchanges.
They began sharing everyday moments such as eating together, doing the shopping, deciding what to watch in the evening, or even going to practice together.
Atsumu talked a lot, recounting stories of his adolescence, his early days in volleyball, his quarrels with his brother, and the most embarrassing moments from high school.
Sakusa listened in silence, more intrigued than he would have liked to admit.

When it was his turn to talk, he only mentioned Komori, their childhood training sessions, and a few anecdotes from the first club they had played in together.
Never anything about his family, never anything too intimate.
And yet, despite the emotional distance, Atsumu never asked uncomfortable questions.

He didn’t push.

He just listened and accepted whatever Sakusa was willing to offer, making every conversation feel natural, easy, almost familiar.

One evening, they found themselves on the couch watching a movie, something light that Atsumu had chosen.
At first, they commented calmly, but it didn’t take long for the discussion to turn into a popcorn war, sparked by a heated disagreement over which character was the best.

«You don’t understand anything! That’s clearly the most useless character in the movie!»Atsumu had shouted, laughing.

«Coming from someone who gets attached to the first blonde character he sees» Sakusa had retorted with an ironic tone.

When the popcorn war ended, both were curled up on the floor laughing, cheeks flushed — not just from the effort, but from that bond that was slowly being built in silence, without pressure, one day at a time.

They looked into each other's eyes, and after a moment of silence, it was the blond who broke it, murmuring

«Let’s clean up this mess before the other two get back. Come on, I’ll help, it’ll be faster that way» and Sakusa found himself nodding, almost in a daze, far too focused on the other’s bright and playful gaze and his smile, before forcing himself to get up and tidy up.

During one of the short breaks granted by the coach, the team gathered at the edges of the court, panting and sweaty.
Sakusa sat on the edge of a bench, grabbed his water bottle, and began drinking in small sips, as he always did — methodically, unhurriedly — but it only took one sentence, thrown with Inunaki’s usual bravado, to make him choke on his water.

«What do you think about spending a week of the winter holidays together, in a mountain cottage?» the libero suggested, his eyes shining with excitement.

Sakusa coughed violently, one hand over his mouth and the other on his chest, trying not to choke.
The others turned around immediately, some laughing, some worried, as he tried to catch his breath.

«You okay, Omi?» Atsumu asked, chuckling under his breath.

The dark-haired player nodded, his expression somewhere between scandalized and resigned.
Just the thought of spending whole days with those maniacs, locked together in one place during the holidays, made him shiver.
He thought of Bokuto’s shouting, Hinata’s boundless energy, the messy meals, the chaos…
But then he remembered Meian and Barnes would be there too. Grown-ups, mature, capable of keeping the wild ones in check.
That reassured him, at least a little.

One after another, everyone agreed enthusiastically.
Hinata was bouncing with joy, Bokuto was already waving his arms and yelling that he’d bring the portable karaoke, and even Atsumu seemed amused by the idea.
Then they all turned toward Sakusa, waiting for his answer.

«I don’t know…» he murmured, running a hand through his sweaty curls.
«I usually go home during breaks.»

But he stopped himself, as a bitter pang twisted in his stomach.
The thought of going back home, to his parents, made him shiver more than the idea of late-night karaoke.
He pictured himself at the dinner table again, listening to his parents repeat the same tired lines:
«You need to find a girl, Kiyoomi. When will you settle down? Volleyball won’t last forever. You need a real job, a stable future…»

No, he didn’t want that.
Not again.
Not this year.

«Alright » he said then, quietly, but loud enough to be heard.

A cheer exploded around him.
Bokuto grabbed him by the arm, nearly knocking him off the bench, while Hinata shouted his name like he had just scored the winning point in a match.
Kiyoomi sighed and let Meian handle the organization, simply taking note of the logistics and, two weeks later, packing his suitcase with all the essentials: warm clothes, medicine, hygiene products, and three extra masks, just in case.

When departure day came, he arrived at the meeting point and boarded the rented minibus.
Most of the seats were already taken, except one.
The one next to Atsumu.

«Oh, look who it is!» the blond said with a smug smile, patting the empty seat.
«What a coincidence, huh?»

Sakusa stared at him for a long second, then sat down silently, placing his backpack on his knees.
He didn’t answer, but a faint expression, barely noticeable, curled the corners of his lips,  grateful not to have to spend five hours next to Hinata or Bokuto.

The week ahead promised to be long, but for the first time, he didn’t entirely dread it.

The ride up the mountain passed quietly, filled with chatter, laughter, and the usual bickering.
Sakusa, sitting next to Atsumu, had fallen asleep halfway through, lulled by the warmth of the minibus and the gentle sway of the mountain road.
Slowly, without even realizing it, his head had come to rest on the blond’s shoulder — who froze for a moment before relaxing and letting him sleep.

When the minibus stopped, the jolt woke him.
Sakusa opened his eyes slowly, dazed from sleep, and realized the position he was in.
As soon as he noticed his cheek resting on Atsumu’s shoulder, he recoiled abruptly, embarrassed, running a hand through his curls and mumbling in a sleepy voice

«Sorry… I didn’t mean to. You could’ve woken me up.»

Atsumu turned toward him with a genuine smile and shrugged.
«You were too cute, Omi. Besides, I thought it best to let you sleep with the days ahead, you’ll need all the energy you can get.»

Sakusa immediately looked away, staring out the window as if something incredibly interesting had suddenly appeared outside, while a flush crept up his cheeks.
Without replying, he quickly got off the minibus, leaving the moment behind as if nothing had happened.
The cold hit him as soon as he stepped out, making his skin prickle beneath his clothes.
He wrapped himself tighter in his coat, pulled his scarf up to cover half his face, and retrieved his suitcase from the luggage compartment in silence.

Ahead of him, Bokuto and Hinata had already charged toward the cottage, running across the snowy entrance and shouting like two kids in a playground.

«THE BEST ROOM IS MINE!»
«NO WAY DON'T EVEN THIN — BOKUTO STOP!»

Sakusa watched them, disheartened.
He honestly didn’t understand where they got all that energy.
He sighed deeply and, as soon as he stepped through the door of the wooden house nestled in the white landscape, he broke away from the group and went quietly upstairs, where he chose the first free room he found.

It wasn’t the biggest, nor the brightest, but it had a single bed, a window overlooking the forest and, most importantly — peace.
He left his suitcase and backpack next to the bed, took off his coat and scarf, and stretched his shoulders.
Another long sigh escaped him as he moved closer to the radiator to warm up.

It was official: the holidays had begun.

Evening fell quickly over the small mountain cottage, and with it came dinner time. Sakusa, true to his aversion for organized chaos, kept well away from the kitchen, leaving the responsibility of the meal to Atsumu, who seemed quite comfortable juggling pots and pans, helped by Meian and the other adults.

Bokuto and Hinata, on the other hand, had declared the main room as the headquarters of fun, throwing themselves enthusiastically into organizing the karaoke night.
Their shouts echoed through the house as they argued—well, more like fought—over which songs deserved a spot on the playlist.

Dinner unfolded as peacefully as could be expected, given the company.
Sakusa ate quietly, half-listening to the animated conversations around him, and when it came time to clean up, he offered to help.
He, Atsumu, and Meian ended up washing dishes and putting away pots and utensils, working in a calm rhythm with few words exchanged.

Once everything was tidied up, they made their way to the living room, where the rest of the team was already waiting.

Sakusa settled into one of the armchairs off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, watching the scene before him with his usual critical gaze.
He had no intention of picking up a microphone.

He sipped a beer—his second of the evening—and watched his teammates mercilessly butcher every song they attempted to sing.
As the minutes passed, the alcohol began to take effect, turning his housemates into even more exuberant versions of themselves.

Inunaki, clearly drunk, staggered over to Meian and began to dance against him theatrically while singing at the top of his lungs with Bokuto, who provided backup vocals and choreography all at once.
Sakusa lowered his head, shaken by a genuine laugh he couldn’t hold back.

«I’m too old for this» Meian grumbled, trying to shake off the other.

«You’re only thirty-two» Barnes, seated next to him, pointed out.

«Exactly» Meian muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose while Inunaki, offended, stormed off with a pout, shouting,
«You don’t understand art!»

Kiyoomi was still chuckling quietly when his phone lit up on the coffee table.
The name “Mom” flashed across the screen, followed by the ringing tone.

His smile faded, and a subtle tightness gripped his stomach.

A familiar, heavy anxiety rose within him, like a fog creeping through the cracks of the good mood he had just begun to absorb.
He let the phone ring until it stopped on its own, then turned on “Do Not Disturb” mode with a quiet sigh.

He didn’t notice that Atsumu, seated not far away and quietly watching him for the past few minutes, had seen it all.
The blond said nothing, asked no questions.
He simply reached for an unopened beer on the table and handed it to him, wordlessly.
Sakusa took it with a faint nod, their eyes meeting for a brief second.

No words were needed.
And for that night, that was enough.

The following days passed surprisingly peacefully.
Between laughter, shared meals, and increasingly mellow drunken evenings, Sakusa found himself more and more drawn into the routine of that loud, tight-knit group.
It was on a particularly clear morning that Atsumu, with his signature enthusiasm, convinced him to try skiing, promising to teach him everything, step by step, and swearing he wouldn’t get hurt.

«I swear, Omi. It’s fun, you’ll like it! And I’m with you, okay?» he said with a sincere, open smile.

Sakusa sighed, resigned, and agreed, heading off with the blond while the rest of the group decided to stay at the lodge bar with hot chocolate.
They rode the ski lift up through snow-covered mountains, and as they climbed higher, Sakusa found himself gripping the safety bar tightly.

«Why did I let you talk me into this?» he muttered, watching the ground get farther beneath their feet.

Atsumu chuckled, glancing over at him.
«Because deep down you know you’ll enjoy it, even if you’ll never admit it.»

Sakusa held back a smile.
That familiar, gentle tone warmed something in his chest.
Because by now, Atsumu wasn’t just a teammate or a housemate—he had become something more, even if the blond didn’t know it yet.

Once they reached the top, Atsumu showed him how to adjust his skis and how to stand up properly.
Then he guided him slowly, sliding along the side of the slope and keeping a safe distance, laughing heartily every time Sakusa managed only a few meters before clumsily collapsing into the snow.

«This is a stupid sport» the dark-haired man grumbled, annoyed and embarrassed.

When Atsumu offered him a hand to help him up, Sakusa took it without thinking.
Only afterward did they both realize the gesture and quickly looked away, a little surprised and a little flustered.

«Come on, let’s try again!» the blond called out cheerfully, gliding down the slope and waiting for him at the bottom.

Sakusa stood up again and, determined, followed him—but ended up gaining too much speed, and panic overtook him.
Atsumu noticed and shouted for him to slow down, but anxiety won: Kiyoomi lost control and crashed into the blond, sending them both tumbling down into the snow until they came to a stop, one on top of the other.

«Omi! Are you okay?!» Atsumu asked, worried, staring down at him with concern.

After a moment of silence, Sakusa burst out laughing, staring up at the clear sky above them before moving out from under him and murmuring, still amused,
«I’m fine, Miya… don’t worry.»

For the first time in a while, he felt truly at peace.
Not with his cousin, not by himself, but with someone who understood him and gave him moments this light.
And that realization, as beautiful as it was, scared him a little—but in that moment, he decided not to think about it too much.

Atsumu continued to stare at him, stunned.
«You sure you didn’t hit your head? You’re scaring me.»

Sakusa chuckled again, then scooped up a handful of snow and threw it in his face with pinpoint accuracy.

«Oops» he said innocently.

«Oh yeah? You want war?! Fine, get ready!» the blond shouted, shaking snow from his hair with a scandalized expression.

Sakusa’s eyes widened, and he quickly unstrapped his skis and began running down the slope, with Atsumu chasing after him, yelling about revenge.
The two chased each other, laughing, throwing snow back and forth and falling repeatedly into the white powder, until, breathless, they called a truce and decided to return home.

They got back in the late afternoon, dirty, red from the cold, and visibly exhausted.
When they opened the cottage door, everyone turned to them with stunned expressions.

«What the hell happened to you two?» asked Hinata, holding a cup of hot-chocolate .

«You look like two kids fresh out of a snowball war» Meian commented with a smirk, earning a nod of agreement from Barnes.

Atsumu burst out laughing.
«It’s his fault, he started it!»

Sakusa looked at him for a moment and then slowly shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips.
He didn’t say a word, but in his eyes was a flicker of something dangerously close to happiness.

Since they had arrived at the cottage, Sakusa had systematically ignored all calls from his mother.
Every time his name appeared on the screen, a quick glance was enough to press the red button and leave behind the anxiety that came with it. But that evening, perhaps due to accumulated fatigue or the irritation burning under his skin, he ended up answering.
He was alone, immersed in the outdoor hot tub while the others were still inside, engaged in singing with questionable enthusiasm.

He pressed the green button with a heavy sigh, already resigned.

«Finally» was the first word he heard, without even a greeting.
His mother’s tone was sharp, as if every second of waiting had been a personal affront.
«You could at least answer. I was worried, I wanted to know how you were.»

Sakusa knew well it wasn’t true.
It wasn’t concern on her part, it was just another attempt at control, but he decided that, for that evening, he would let her talk.
He would indulge her.
At least a little.

«I’m fine»he replied with a tired voice, closing his eyes.
«Everything’s okay. I’ll come home once I’m back.»

A moment of silence, then the woman’s voice became more piercing.
«You know, I met a perfect girl for you. Intelligent, mature, from a good family... very wealthy. Her parents work in finance, they’re important people. She’s exactly the right type for you.»

Sakusa sighed, running a hand through his wet hair, sinking a little deeper into the warm water as if wanting to disappear.
«I don’t care» he murmured, exhausted.

«Kiyoomi, please. Show some respect!» she snapped, her tone severe.
«You have to think about your future. You have to find a girl, someone to carry on the Sakusa lineage. You can’t—»

«Stop it» he burst out, his voice louder than usual, breaking the cold air of the evening.
«I’ve told you too many times already but you’ve never really listened to me, you never wanted to listen. I’m not interested in girls, not now, not ever. I’m not attracted to them. I’m gay.»

The silence was immediate, but lasted only a moment before his mother resumed, shouting phrases Sakusa had heard far too many times before.
That it was just a phase.
That he would change his mind.
That he was only seeking attentions.

But he no longer listened.
He raised the phone in front of him and pressed the button to end the call.

He hung up.

He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself, but his chest still felt heavy.
He sank even deeper into the water, letting the warmth try to dissolve the anger and disappointment.

He didn’t notice Atsumu standing at the threshold with the door slightly open.
The blond, who had come to call him to invite him to join them for a board game, had heard everything.
He stood frozen, shocked by such an intimate and painful conversation.
He barely knew how to react, but something inside him moved and pushed him to step forward.

He shook himself, slowly closed the door behind him, and approached quietly, walking on the crunching snow until he reached the edge of the tub.
He crouched down, sitting beside him, simply watching in silence.

«Omi» he called softly, his voice low, almost a whisper, shortly after.

Sakusa didn’t turn immediately.
He seemed lost in thought, eyes fixed ahead, water droplets dripping from his chin while the warm steam enveloped his face. But then, slowly, he turned his head towards him and in his gaze was a mixture of surprise, shame, and something more fragile, vulnerability.

Atsumu said no more.
He didn’t need to.
He just stayed there, beside him, silent and present.

The silence that surrounded them was long but not heavy.
Sakusa seemed trapped in a spiral of thoughts from which he struggled to escape, his gaze lost in the lazy steam rising from the hot water.
After a few minutes, however, he sighed softly, running a hand over his face as if trying to erase the accumulated tiredness, before murmuring in a low, rough voice

«What did you want to tell me?»

Atsumu, who had remained silent at the edge of the tub until then, almost afraid to break something fragile, straightened up, taken by surprise that the raven-haired one had spoken to him.

«I just wanted to invite you to join us for a board game…» he murmured, lowering his gaze.
«But it’s not important. Not anymore.»

Sakusa looked at him.
In the other’s golden eyes, something stirred in his chest.
Regret, empathy, and an undefined emotion he couldn’t interpret, but that warmed him more than the water he was soaked in.
«You heard... didn’t you?» he finally asked in a low voice, almost fearful.

Atsumu nodded slowly, with a guilty expression.
«Yes... but I didn’t want to. I swear, it wasn’t my intention.»

The raven-haired boy shook his head with another sigh, this time lighter.

«It doesn’t matter» he murmured.
«At least now you know. And I can be honest with someone other than Motoya.»

And it was at that moment, in that simple exchange of glances, that Atsumu understood everything.
Why Sakusa never talked about his family.
Why he changed the subject whenever someone touched on certain topics.

And seeing him like this… sad, fragile, lost, something inside him moved.
An unstoppable will moved into him, he wanted to see him smile again.

«If you want to talk about it, I’m here» Atsumu whispered gently.
«I’ll always be here. Don’t get paranoid, Omi. Really.»

Then he smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
«Besides, you should get out of there. You’ve been soaking for a couple of hours.»

Sakusa shook his head slowly, with a stubborn, childish expression that almost made him smile, but Atsumu didn’t give up.
«Okay well... if you're not coming out, I’m coming in.»

And without waiting for an answer, he took off his jacket.

The raven-haired boy stared at him, surprised.
«As if you’d ruin that designer sweatshirt» he murmured, even if there was more uncertainty than conviction in his tone.

«What, this old sweatshirt? I don’t care» the blond replied softly. Then, with a small smile, he stepped into the tub and the water rippled gently around them.
He sat beside him, only a few centimeters away, then gestured for him to come closer.

He feared he might be overdoing it, but the desire to help him, to make him feel less alone, was stronger than any doubt or fear.

Sakusa stayed still for a moment and then, against all his expectations, moved.
He leaned against Atsumu’s chest with a slow movement, as if that gesture required all the courage in the world.

The blond welcomed him naturally, his arms wrapping him in a secure, silent, powerful hug, and Sakusa closed his eyes.
His defenses, his barriers, the walls he had built over years of loneliness, crumbled in that sudden warmth.

He felt safe.
Protected.

If someone, years ago, had told him that one day he would let himself go like that in Miya Atsumu’s arms, he would have bitterly laughed and sent that idiot to hell.

But now… now it was like this.
And he felt good.
Really good.

From that night on, Atsumu never stopped paying attention to Kiyoomi.
Every morning he made sure he had slept well and every evening that he was calm.
He watched him discreetly but constantly, and whenever he caught even the slightest hint of discomfort or tiredness on the raven-haired boy’s face, he intervened with a joke, a light suggestion, or a sincere smile.
Sakusa noticed every gesture, every care, and even if he never said it aloud, he was grateful. Fundamentally.

The trip back felt shorter, yet strangely melancholic at the same time.
Once back in his apartment, Sakusa collapsed onto the bed with a long sigh.
His gaze lost on the ceiling, he tried to process everything that had happened over the past week.
It seemed impossible that so little time had passed, yet so much had changed.

That night in the hot tub, in the end, he had found the courage to tell everything.
Every detail, every wound.
He had spoken with a broken, uncertain voice, and Atsumu had never interrupted him. He had listened silently, with endless patience, gently stroking his curls as if to calm him with that kind gesture.
He held him tight every time his voice cracked, every time the memories made him falter.
There had been no judgment, only presence, warmth, and understanding.

When he finished, Atsumu told him there was nothing wrong with him.
That maybe one day his mother would understand, but even if that day never came, it would never be his fault.
That he shouldn’t give in, shouldn’t force himself to go out with someone he wasn’t interested in just to please others.
That he deserved to be happy for who he really was.

That evening, between the warm bubbles and the muffled silence of the mountain, Sakusa saw a new side of Atsumu.
Not the cocky, theatrical, over-the-top one he showed to the world, but the authentic one.
Kind. Caring. Attentive.

And smiled.
Smiled because, finally, he had been able to truly know him.

And, in that moment, he realized how lucky he was to have him in his life and by his side.

Training had resumed with the usual intense pace, but for Sakusa, everything felt slightly lighter since he had returned from the mountain week.
He met Komori the day he got back and told him everything: about the call, the anger, the closeness with Atsumu.
His cousin listened quietly, for once without interrupting with his usual relentless questions.
When Sakusa finished, Komori looked at him for a long time, surprised… and proud.
Proud of the courage he had shown facing his mother.
Proud that, finally, he had opened up to someone without fear.

«You did well, Kiyo» he said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder, and for Sakusa, that was worth more than a thousand words.

Since then, he and Atsumu had become practically inseparable.
They headed to training together, waited for each other after, shared stretching, warm-ups, even breaks.
No one said anything out loud, but the looks from their teammates spoke clearly.
A certain curiosity hung in the air, along with a growing amount of barely veiled teasing.

That morning, Atsumu had sat on the floor during warm-up, legs stretched out, face focused as he tried to reach his feet with his hands.

«Omi, can you help me? I have to be able to touch my feets. If Bokuto can do it, I can too!»
Sakusa sighed loudly, rolling his eyes but came over silently.

He stood behind him and naturally placed his hands on Atsumu’s back, slowly and gently pushing him forward.

Someone was watching.
More than one, actually.

Hinata and Bokuto, used to the scene from living together, just exchanged a knowing smile while the others seemed genuinely surprised by such direct physical contact, by the clear level of closeness.

Focused on his task, Sakusa suddenly heard Atsumu let out a theatrical moan, way too loud to ignore.

«Yes, Omi, p-please keep going… you’re really amazing, damn it!»
The emphatic voice echoed in the gym, silencing everyone for a moment.

Sakusa’s eyes widened as heat flushed his face like a wave.
«Miya, I swear to God I’ll kill you if you do that again»
He growled, trying to ignore Inunaki and Bokuto’s loud laughter, followed by the rest of the team.
In response, he slightly increased the pressure on Atsumu’s back, pleased to see the grimace of pain cross his face.

Then he suddenly pulled away, resuming his own stretching with a pounding heart and a head trying in vain to push away the thought that had just surfaced in his mind while the redness still colored his cheeks and refused to fade.

After training, Sakusa headed to the locker room as usual, silently taking off his uniform and putting on his clothes with mechanical movements.
He waited for Atsumu outside the entrance, as had become their habit over the weeks.
He was scrolling through his phone, checking notifications and some non-urgent messages, when his gaze fell on a familiar figure not far away.

It was Hana.

He jumped slightly.
His heart skipped a beat, not from excitement, but from that kind of discomfort that nestles in your chest without warning.

What’s she doing here? he thought nervously, biting his lip under his black mask.
Before he could come up with other guesses, Atsumu appeared like a gust of warm, cheerful air, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

«Omi, I’m ready! Can we go?» he exclaimed with his usual enthusiasm.

Sakusa barely nodded, then raised a hand and pointed with a finger toward the female figure not far away.
Atsumu followed the gesture with his eyes. «What’s she doing here?» he asked, his voice betraying a slight note of surprise.

You tell me, the raven-haired one thought, but he didn’t say it.
He simply tightened his shoulders slightly, watching him walk away toward Hana with his usual confident, relaxed stride.

Sakusa stayed still.

He saw them talking.
He noticed how she clung to his arm naturally, as if it were where she belonged.
A wave of discomfort, like a tight grip on his stomach, hit him suddenly and he lowered his gaze, returning to stare at his phone.
The notifications all seemed identical, irrelevant.

«Omi!»

He looked up only when he heard his name called.
Atsumu and Hana were approaching, the blonde smiling, the girl more distant but visibly puzzled.
Sakusa straightened up slightly, keeping the usual minimum safe distance.

«Hana invited me to see a movie at the cinema. Want to come with us?»

At those words, both of them shot glances at him with different but equally shocked expressions: she, because the blonde had just ruined what she expected to be a date for two; he, because he couldn’t believe Atsumu had actually asked him.
For a moment they looked at him silently, their light eyes meeting his dark ones.

«No thanks... go and have fun. See you at home» he answered calmly, without even looking at the girl.

The blonde pouted slightly, trying to convince him with a whining, almost childlike tone, but Sakusa was resolute.
He only stepped closer to place a hand on his head, ruffling his hair with a sweet and surprising gesture.

«Bye, Miya» he murmured, passing him with a decisive step, heading home.

It was at that moment that Hinata came out of the gym, backpack on his shoulder and a tired smile.
When he saw Sakusa approaching alone, he raised a hand to greet him, and the raven-haired one returned the greeting with a barely visible nod, saying nothing.
As they walked away calmly together toward home, Sakusa didn’t look back once.

In the following days, Sakusa noticed a change that, at first, he tried to ignore but soon became impossible to overlook.
After every practice, Atsumu disappeared.
He rushed out of the locker room, phone in hand, and a strange, forced smile on his lips.
Sometimes he’d send a hurried message, other times not even that.
The reason, of course, was always the same: Hana.

Even though the blonde had never officially confirmed anything, the mere thought that she might be his new girlfriend was enough to knot up Kiyoomi’s chest with an uncomfortable mix of unease and anger.
It was as if Atsumu changed when she was around: less cheerful, less natural, less himself.

The evening that hit him the hardest, however, was the one when Atsumu came home late and, finding Sakusa sitting on the couch with a book in his hands, didn’t even greet him.
He passed by without a word, locking himself in his room as if nothing had happened.

The gesture, simple but cutting, pierced him with the precision of a sharp blade.

In the following days, he tried many times to talk to him, to get close, to even suggest watching a movie together, but each time, like a punctual shadow, Hana was buzzing around him with her fake pasted-on smile and that honeyed voice that seemed to want to cut him out of every context.

Finally, tired and frustrated, Sakusa found himself alone in the gym, throwing a ball forcefully against the wall, unable to control himself.
He picked it up and threw it again, harder this time.

«Is it possible that now I don’t even have a moment to be alone with him?!» he burst out through clenched teeth, stopping only when he heard footsteps coming from the hallway of the gym.

He was just a few meters from the locker room and, barely turning his ear, he recognized the voices of Hinata and Bokuto.
He froze when he heard his name joined with Hana’s, clearly pronounced by the orange-haired one.

He stepped closer, unseen, hiding behind the corner.
His heart was pounding nervously, but he remained still to listen.

«…I swear Bokkun, I heard them arguing heatedly, with harsh tones while Kiyoomi was out running errands. Hana said Atsumu had to stay away from Sakusa, that there was something about him that didn’t convince her.»

Silence. Sakusa clenched his jaw.

«She said Atsumu had changed since he started hanging out with him, that he wasn’t the guy she had fallen in love with anymore» Hinata continued in a lower voice.

The raven-haired one gagged.
He leaned against the wall, clenching his fists, suddenly feeling empty, invaded by nausea at the thought of Atsumu and Hana together.

«And then… Atsumu flipped out. He shouted it wasn’t Kiyoomi’s fault, that he is like that and if she didn’t like it, she could just leave him!»

At those words, Sakusa almost stopped breathing.
A sudden stab hit his chest.

But Hinata wasn’t done yet.

«Then… then she even threatened to tell the paparazzi some gossip about Kiyoomi… I didn’t hear what exactly, though. Atsumu left the house slamming the door shortly after.»

At those last phrases, Sakusa froze. His skin paled beneath the mask, his breath grew short.

Gossip?
What kind?
What did that girl know and… how far was she willing to go?

The ball slipped from his hands, rolling slowly to the opposite wall.
He stood still, silent, his gaze lost in the void.
The fear he had always kept hidden, the one he had only confessed to Atsumu, that of ending up on the front page of a gossip magazine, terrified him and now risked becoming reality against his will.

Sakusa repeated to himself several times, like a mantra, that Hana couldn’t know.
No one knew the truth, except his mother, Motoya, and Atsumu.

And about the latter, he had no doubts: he knew, felt deep down, that the blonde had never told anyone.
He couldn’t explain why he was so certain, but he trusted his instinct.

He tried to convince himself that Hana was just bluffing, that maybe she had guessed something, or that perhaps she just wanted to hurt him or put him in trouble.
After all, she didn’t even have proof to bring up such gossip.
You know well that paparazzi don’t need to be certain, they just need people to buy the magazine.

That thought hit his conscience like a punch to the stomach.
He leaned against the nearest wall and closed his eyes, desperately trying to block the panic attack rising inside him, thick, sticky, like a tide ready to overwhelm him.

«I have to talk to Atsumu. Now.» he murmured to himself in a whisper, pulling out his phone and dialing without thinking.
The ringtone of the blond came from the gym, nearby.

Sakusa almost ran, panting, until he reached the entrance, and as soon as he saw him alone, he grabbed the hem of his hoodie with a force he didn’t even know he had, dragging him into a corner far from prying eyes and ears.

His gaze was watery, his breath broken, and Atsumu looked at him worried, immediately standing at attention.

«Omi...? What’s wrong? Breathe, breathe with me, okay?» he said softly, taking his hand and gently stroking the back with his thumb, calm, tender.

Sakusa nodded, forcing himself to follow that rhythmic breathing, clinging to that touch as if it was the only solid thing in the chaos. And shortly after, when he felt his breath steady, anger took over.

«What the hell did Hana say to you?» he burst out, voice tense.
«And don’t lie to me. I heard Hinata talking with Bokuto, he heard you arguing with her and saying my name!»

His eyes shone with anger.

«What does she want to do? What does she want to tell the paparazzi? God, I never liked her, but now she’s really hit rock bottom! She forced you to ignore me, I can’t believe it—and you, you idiot, listened to her!»

His voice rose, almost a shout, but he stopped abruptly when he heard Atsumu speak with a tone that completely threw him off.

«I did it to protect you. To keep you safe from all that crap.»

Sakusa stared at him, stunned.
The anger melted in an instant like snow in the sun, leaving only a tight knot in his chest, and he pulled him close, hugging him instinctively, even though it was him who wanted it more than anything else.

He felt the blond grip him tightly, clutching him as if afraid he might disappear at any moment, and Sakusa closed his eyes, sighing softly.

He would fight with tooth and nail for Atsumu, he was sure of it.

Slowly, he loosened the hug, then gently grabbed his face to make him look.

«Hey… look at me.»

Their eyes met, Sakusa took a deep breath, then murmured in a cold but steady voice:

«I’m not afraid of some freak dressed in sheep's clothing. If she wants to mess with my friends, I’ll drop-kick that bitch faster than she can say ‘have a blessed day’, clear?»

The tone was icy, sharp enough to make Atsumu shiver, who at the same time felt his heart melt at that “my friends” said for the first time.

Sakusa clenched his fists, his hands trembling with rage.
«She can come directly to me to talk, if she’s got the guts» he added.

Atsumu smiled, touched by that fierce and genuine strength.
«You’re amazing, Omi» he murmured, caressing and gently squeezing his hands, but a noise behind them made them jump.
It was the rest of the team’s voices approaching.

Atsumu discreetly stepped back while Sakusa turned, returning to his usual calm appearance, but inside, something had changed.

As promised, the next day Sakusa didn’t waste time.
As soon as he saw Hana enter the gym, he completely ignored the chatter, the looks, and the presences around him.
He walked with purpose toward her, feeling Hinata’s curious gaze and Atsumu’s surprised one on him as they talked not far away, but he didn’t stop or even glance at them.

He reached the girl and looked at her with a smile as polite as it was fake, tilting his head slightly with false courtesy.

«You know… I’m tired» he started in a cold tone.
«Really, Hana. Stop dragging Atsumu into this every time you feel left out. If you have something to say, talk to me directly, since apparently I’m the center of your world, the core of your problems.»

He saw the girl turn pale instantly.
Her lips trembled slightly, unable to reply.
Sakusa then let out an ironic chuckle, shaking his head slowly.

«You know what?» he continued without lowering his gaze.
«Whatever your plan is, whatever you’re trying to achieve won’t work. The bond between me and Atsumu won’t be destroyed just because you force something on him. In fact, doing that will push him away. You’ll lose him. It’s just a matter of time.»

The words came out clear, sharp as blades.
Sakusa’s eyes pierced her with a threatening look, one of those that don’t need loud tones to be scary.

Inside, his heart was pounding wildly. He was lying, he knew he was lying, he was scared, of course, but she couldn’t know that.
She must never suspect the crack beneath the surface.

As he predicted, Hana lowered her gaze and murmured,
«I’m sorry… I was wrong.»

Sakusa didn’t answer.
He threw her one last sharp glance, then turned away nonchalantly, heading to the locker rooms, leaving a trail of incredulous stares behind him.
The entire team had heard everything.

He barely had time to take off his shirt when Hinata came running up, still shaken.

«Omi-kun! I can’t believe it! You’re my new hero!» he exclaimed, eyes shining with genuine admiration.

Sakusa looked at him sideways, barely holding back an amused smirk.
«Shut up and get back to training, Shoyo» he replied, almost laughing, in a lighter tone than usual, and watching him run off, still ecstatic, Sakusa felt lighter.

Freer.
As if he had taken off a weight from his chest that had been pressing on him for too long.

Three weeks had passed since Sakusa had confronted Hana in the gym, and since then the atmosphere seemed to slowly return to normal.
The Black Jackals’ staff, in collaboration with members from other first-division teams, had organized a charity event: an elegant ball to raise funds to support young emerging talents in Japanese volleyball.
The team was required to attend, no exceptions, all dressed formally.

Over those weeks, the relationship between Atsumu and Sakusa had naturally blossomed again.
They had started spending a lot of time together, between training sessions, shared scenes, and evenings filled with light conversations.
Atsumu had even stubbornly insisted on teaching him how to cook, although most of the time the results bordered on disaster but they didn’t mind, since the laughter, bickering, and camaraderie they rebuilt in those moments were all that truly mattered to them.

Of course, there were still times when Atsumu spent time with Hana, and on every occasion, Sakusa couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose. Yet, he forced himself to say nothing, not to interfere, not to become like her.
He reminded himself that the other’s freedom came before his jealousy.

That evening, however, all those thoughts were put aside.

Sakusa, dressed in an elegant black suit that highlighted his slender and austere figure, left the house before the others, not wanting to share the trip with the noise caused by his roommates.
Komori was already outside waiting for him, leaning against his car with his usual smile plastered on his face.

«Hey Kiyo! Ready for this red carpet night?»

Sakusa sighed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head slightly while adjusting his shirt cuffs.
«You know I was forced to attend. If it were up to me, I’d have gladly stayed in bed.»

The words, spoken in his usual calm and cutting tone, earned Komori a genuine laugh. He slapped the car roof before getting in and driving off towards their destination.

A night full of unknown faces, formalities, and polite smiles awaited them — but neither of them could have guessed that something deep and serious would emerge from their lives that very night.

Komori parked effortlessly in the underground garage of the building hosting the event: a modern skyscraper in the heart of Tokyo, chosen by the organizers for its elegant style and the impressive panoramic penthouse perfectly suited to the sophisticated tone of the evening.

Riding the shiny steel elevator, they remained silent as the soft ceiling lights cast reflections on their dark suits.
When the doors opened on the top floor, a grand glass wall opened before them, revealing a breathtaking room.
The penthouse had been meticulously decorated: dominant tones of soft gold and black, with light drapes flowing gently from the very high ceilings, warm lights suspended at different heights creating a cozy yet refined atmosphere.

Modern chandeliers stood proudly on round tables spread around the room’s perimeter, while at the center, in a space left free of obstacles, was the polished wooden dance floor surrounded by catering stations, artisan cocktail bars, and small corners dedicated to photos and sponsorships.
The walls were entirely made of glass, allowing a view of the immense glowing expanse of Tokyo below them — a sea of lights pulsating to the rhythm of the city.

Sakusa was momentarily stunned.
Though he hated crowded social occasions, he couldn’t help but be fascinated by the attention to detail, how every element seemed perfectly balanced and placed.
He followed Komori through the growing crowd, offering polite smiles and barely noticeable thumbs-up to even unfamiliar faces, not wanting to seem rude.

Without the mask covering his face, he felt exposed, vulnerable.
Komori, as always, caught his discomfort in a single glance and handed him a drink, probably something light, carefully chosen.

Sakusa silently nodded in thanks, clutching the glass between his fingers and letting the coldness of the glass help him contain himself.

The evening began with formal speeches, discreet flashes from photographers, and the gentle sound of string instruments accompanying the initial toasts.
However, Sakusa soon found himself searching for Atsumu in the crowd.
By then, it was quite late, and there was no sign of the blond.
No messages, no calls.

A sense of worry began to creep under his skin.
It was Bokuto who pulled him from his thoughts, calling him loudly and raising a glass of bubbles, already in the company of Meian and Inunaki.

«Sakusa! Come toast, it’s for a good cause!» he exclaimed with his usual enthusiasm.
Sakusa let out a slight sigh but eventually gave in, joining them, followed by Komori who seemed perfectly at ease, already immersed in conversations with other guests.

When the music grew more intense, signaling the official start of the dance, Sakusa barely suppressed a grimace.
The idea of having to dance — or worse, being invited to dance — immediately put him on the defensive.

He discreetly stepped away from the group, moving towards one of the free tables at the side of the room.
He sat down, placing his half-empty glass on the edge of the table, letting the dim lights reflect in his pupils.

He needed a few moments alone.
He needed to know where Atsumu was.

«Omi…»

That voice, that unmistakable and gentle cadence, snapped him out of his thoughts.
Sakusa turned sharply, eyes instantly alert, recognizing Atsumu approaching him without hesitation.
His heart skipped a beat.

He froze for a moment.
He wasn’t prepared to see him like this.

Used to his loose hoodies, pants, or training uniform, Sakusa was caught off guard seeing him dressed in a dark, well-fitted suit that emphasized every line and curve of his shoulders, every elegant movement.
His blond hair, usually a bit messy, was tamed with gel and carefully styled, leaving his face clear and neat.

He swallowed dry, lowering his gaze slightly, trying not to stare too much, but it was impossible.
Wow… he thought as Atsumu gave him a wide, bright smile and slowly stepped toward him.

«You look…» murmured the blond, letting his gaze roam naturally over Sakusa’s body.
At that, Sakusa shivered subtly, confused by that mix of cheekiness and sweetness.
Then Atsumu finished the sentence, tilting his head with a teasing smirk
«… pathetic.»

Sakusa rolled his eyes with mock exasperation, holding back a smile that threatened to betray him.
He immediately understood the game: Atsumu was trying to make him feel at ease, as always, with familiar and affectionate teasing.

He met his gaze again and tightened his grip on the glass, murmuring
«You too, Miya.»

Atsumu’s smile grew wider, sincere, almost happy. Then, with a slow, confident movement, he extended an arm toward him, offering his hand clearly inviting.

Sakusa stared, incredulous, until he clearly heard the words that anchored him to the moment
«Come on, let’s dance.»

He held his breath.
«What? Why would we do that?» he asked, half suspicious, half pure panic.

«Because we’re at a dance, silly» the blond replied promptly, shortening the distance between them.
«And because I know you love this song. I remember you singing this off key in the shower once.»

Sakusa’s eyes widened slightly, visibly struck, while a genuinely amused and sincere smile spread on the blond’s lips.
It was one of those small, insignificant things, but it said everything.
Atsumu had always listened.
He had watched.
He knew.

Sakusa gave a shy smile and extended his hand, placing it in Atsumu’s.
A brief but intense shiver ran through him as he let himself be led to the dance floor.
He felt the pressure of his hand tightening on his, the certainty of his step, and the natural way he wrapped his arms around him.

Sakusa stiffened for a moment but then let himself be guided, letting Atsumu lead.
«Since when do you know how to dance… like this?» he asked in a low voice, almost a relaxed whisper.

Atsumu smiled with a soft expression, swaying slowly with him, completely ignoring the gaze of the others around them.
«Since I was a child. Mom always said one day it would come in handy, and well, she was right.»

Even Sakusa, immersed in that muffled embrace, forgot the world around them for a long moment.
He forgot they were at a crowded event, forgot the loud music, the lights, the prying eyes.
Everything dissolved, leaving only Atsumu’s presence, the warmth of his body against his own, the sure touch of his hands, the familiar scent of his cologne, and the steady beat of his heart that seemed to guide the rhythm of their slow steps.

In that moment, everything felt right.
There was no chaos, no Hana, no weight of the world.

It was just them.
And it was perfect.

When the song came to an end, Sakusa let out a soft sigh, almost annoyed, his lips barely curved downward, and an inaudible mumble escaped involuntarily from them.

He didn’t want to let go of him.
Not yet.

Atsumu laughed quietly, a genuine, light laugh that made something inside him tremble.
Their eyes met again, and the blond, with a tender and confident expression, murmured
«You can always save the next slow dance for me.»

Those words, spoken with disarming simplicity, immediately made Sakusa blush.
He quickly looked away, embarrassed, and took a step back, breaking the spell that had wrapped around them until that moment.
In that instant, as if suddenly brought back to reality, he heard Komori calling him from one of the nearby stations.

That’s when he realized the truth.

He was ruined.

«Sorry» he murmured softly to Atsumu, then hurried to join his cousin without saying anything else, his heart pounding in his chest as a knot tightened in his throat.
Each step felt heavy, painful, like distancing himself from something he wanted more than he could admit.

I still don’t trust Hana, he thought as he walked, barely listening to Komori’s words.
But I also can't trust myself 'cause I'm jealous.
I’ve fallen for Atsumu Miya.
A little bit... or a lot. Completely.

That thought hit him hard, like a punch to the stomach, forcing him to distance himself even from his cousin.

«Sorry Motoya, I have to go» he murmured in a choked voice, avoiding his gaze.
Komori, who had seen them dance together and certainly wasn’t blind, understood the situation perfectly and, without saying a word, let him go.

Sakusa left the penthouse quickly, his breathing uneven.
He took the elevator without being able to think clearly and, once outside, called a taxi from the underground parking, hiding his face in his hands while he waited, his heart racing and his conscience shouting a single truth.

He was in love with Atsumu, and had been for a long time, he just never wanted to admit it to himself before now.

As soon as he got home, he slammed the door behind him and retreated to his room.
He quickly rid himself of the suit, slipping under the covers like he did as a child when something disturbed him too much to face.

He closed his eyes, trying to banish the echo of his name spoken by that warm voice, trying to push away the memory of Atsumu’s smile, his hand holding his, but it was all useless.

He couldn’t believe it had really happened.
And yet, there he was, in his bed, heart shattered but full of love for Miya Atsumu.

Atsumu was left standing.
Seeing Sakusa walk away like that, suddenly, without even an explanation, left him with an emptiness he couldn’t shake off.
After such an intimate moment, after that dance that had felt more genuine than a thousand conversations, watching him flee made his heart tighten in a cold grip.

He started searching for him in the crowd, scanning every face, passing by tables, among guests and other athletes with anxious eyes.
He even asked Bokuto, Meian, Hinata, but no one seemed to have seen him.

«Do you have any idea where Kiyoomi went?» he asked, trying to mask the anxiety in his voice, but no one could answer.

When he heard someone calling him, he turned quickly, confused, ready to hope.
His eyes met the calm, composed gaze of a familiar face, but he couldn’t place him at first.
Then he remembered.
He had seen him in a photo in Kiyoomi’s room: it was his cousin, Komori Motoya.

«He's gone» Motoya said calmly, kindly.
«He wasn’t feeling well. He endured too much being around all these people. He just needs some time alone.»

Atsumu sighed, trying to convince himself it was true, but a part of him, more instinctive and honest, knew something was wrong.
Komori’s words seemed right, sensible, yet didn’t fully convince him.
He felt there was more.

In the end, he gave up.
Unable to do anything else, he decided to follow the brown-haired man’s advice and stayed with the others, trying to smile, laugh with Bokuto, chat with Meian and Inunaki, but his thoughts always stayed fixed on Sakusa.

Just before sitting down with them for good, he sent him a message
“If you need anything… anything at all, call me and I’ll come running.”

He sent it and kept the phone tight in his hand all night, but no reply came.

When they finally returned home, late into the night, the first thing he did was quietly go upstairs and approach Sakusa’s room door.
He opened it gently, without making a sound, and saw him there, curled up under the covers as if wanting to disappear.
He was sleeping, or maybe pretending, but his body was completely hidden.

Atsumu leaned softly against the doorframe and sighed quietly, his heart still tight with a dull unease.
He wouldn’t wake him.
Not that night.

So he let him rest, quietly closing the door behind him before heading to his own room, collapsing immediately into Morpheus’s arms.

The next morning, Sakusa woke up feeling utterly exhausted, his bones heavy as if he hadn’t slept at all.
In reality, sleep had come late, almost at dawn, after hours spent tossing and turning under the sheets, his mind crowded with restless thoughts and memories.

He had heard Atsumu come back, the faint sound of the front door, footsteps down the hallway, and finally the click of his camera’s handle.
He held his breath, motionless under the covers, pretending to be asleep with his heart pounding in his chest, fearing it might betray him with even one too many beats.
Yet the blond hadn’t said a word; he had just watched him for a moment before gently closing the door.

Now, sitting on the bed with his face buried in his hands, Sakusa sighed deeply, almost angrily.

He had to stay calm.
He had to stop thinking.

And yet, the images of the night before came back forcefully, as if every detail were branded into his memory: the warm touch of Atsumu’s hands, the sound of his laughter, the feeling of being the only two people in the world as they danced in the center of the room.

He shook his head, annoyed at himself.
It’s not love, he told himself, it’s just a silly crush.

A fleeting fancy, nothing more.

A side effect of all the attention he had been receiving in recent weeks, of the cooking lessons they shared, of their late-night talks.
Nothing serious.
Nothing that time and distance couldn’t fix.

He imposed that conviction on himself like an order, almost violently.
Ignoring him, at least for the first few days, was the only sensible solution.
He needed to put some distance, to scale everything back, to regain clarity.

Only then could he return to normal.
Only then could he protect himself from himself.

For nearly a week, Sakusa carefully avoided any contact with Atsumu.
Whenever the blond and the other roommates were home, he locked himself in his room, only coming out when he was sure they were gone, off training or running errands.

He had become an invisible presence, a shadow silently moving through the house.
He had even sent a message to Meian at the start of the week, casually lying that he had a fever and would return to training once he was better.
The captain, without asking too many questions, had wished him a speedy recovery.

But Sakusa was going crazy.
Every time he heard Atsumu’s voice beyond the closed door, every time he knocked softly to check if he was okay, his chest tightened painfully.
He would just mutter something in response, a barely audible assent, then sigh heavily once alone.

He hated it.
He hated that kindness, that worried tone, that sweet insistence that shattered every ounce of his determination.
It didn’t help him. Not at all.

That afternoon, convinced he was alone at home, he finally dared to leave his room.
In the kitchen, with slow, methodical movements, he prepared a herbal tea, hoping the chamomile would calm him down at least a little.
He had set his laptop on the table and was watching one of his cousin’s matches, completely lost in thought, sure the others wouldn’t be back for at least half an hour.

He didn’t hear the front door open, nor the quiet footsteps approaching.
Only when he caught a figure out of the corner of his eye did he suddenly look up, caught off guard.

In front of him were two brown eyes looking at him: first surprised, then filled with a sweetness that completely disarmed him.

«Omi, you finally came out of your room. Are you feeling better?» Atsumu asked with a sincere smile.

Sakusa felt his heart skip a beat and almost choked on a sip of tea.
He gripped the cup tighter, forcing a fake, strained, almost painful smile.

«Uh… yes. I’m feeling better, finally» he murmured with effort, cursing himself for not having gone back to his room when he still had the chance.

«I’m glad. So, do you want to watch a movie together tonight?»

At those words, Sakusa stiffened immediately. He looked away, overwhelmed.
He almost jumped up, grabbing the laptop with his free hand and looking for the first plausible excuse.

«I… have a video call planned with Komori» he lied, carefully avoiding the blond’s gaze as he quickly passed by, heading back to his room.

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, still clutching the cup and laptop with trembling hands.
His heart was pounding wildly.
The plan he had set for himself wasn’t working.

He couldn’t resist, couldn’t control himself.
He had avoided him for days, yet just one glance, one kind question, had brought down every defense.

Atsumu was left speechless, more than he was willing to admit.
He had missed Sakusa all week: the absence of their daily exchanges, his silent grimaces, even his curt comments weighed on him more than he expected.
Every attempt to talk to him, even for a few seconds, had been blocked by a closed door or a distracted grunt.
And now, that brief exchange in the kitchen left him bitter, with the unpleasant feeling of having become a nuisance.
He tormented himself, wondering if he had done something wrong, but couldn’t find an answer.

Even over the weekend, Sakusa continued to ignore him.
Atsumu had waited with some hope for a sign, a message, a look… something, but nothing came.
It was only Monday morning, when Hinata let slip a comment, that something inside him broke.

«Ah, last night Kiyoomi joined Bo and me for a game night!» the redhead said enthusiastically while packing his knee pads into his bag.

Atsumu turned to him, trying to hide his reaction.
A burning wave of jealousy flared up inside him.
He felt bad that Sakusa had been with them and not with him.
Why them, and not him?

And as if that wasn’t enough, just moments later, while he was still trying to gather his thoughts and fight off sleep after a long night with Hana, he heard Bokuto speaking from another room.

«I saw him this morning while he was drinking coffee. I asked if he was coming to practice today, and he said he’d be going out with Komori first, then he’d come.»

At those words, a tight, uncomfortable knot formed in his throat, but at the same time, he let out a sigh of relief.
He would see him again.
In a couple of hours. Finally.

Meanwhile, Sakusa made his way to his cousin’s house with uncertain steps and a churning stomach.
As soon as he entered, he dropped the mask he had forced himself to wear those days.
Komori greeted him with a calm smile, but one look was enough to understand how close his cousin was to exploding.

And indeed, once they were in the living room, Sakusa let himself go.
He paced back and forth like a restless whirlwind, releasing the weight that was pressing down on him: he talked about his fears, his confused emotions, the anxiety that gripped him every time he met Atsumu’s gaze, and above all, how clear it had become what he truly felt.
He was in love.
And that terrified him.

Komori listened silently, letting him vent until he was out of breath, then motioned for him to stop and sit down.
Only when Sakusa sank onto the couch, panting, did he speak.

«Kiyo, you’re in love. And that’s obvious.»

Sakusa looked up at him, struck by how simply he said it.

«I realized it that night when you two danced together. But…» Komori sighed, now more serious
«This situation can’t have a future, you know. Atsumu is engaged, with a girl, no less.»

Those words hit Sakusa like a punch to the stomach.
He grabbed his hair with both hands and murmured,
«I know, and that’s why I tried to distance myself.»

Komori put a hand on his shoulder, his look understanding but firm.
«The only way to forget him, Kiyo, is to get completely away.»

Sakusa shook his head.
«I can’t leave the team until the end of the season. I can’t just go.»

Komori thought for a moment, then proposed,
«Then come stay with me. At least for a while. We won’t tell anyone.»

Sakusa’s eyes lit up for the first time in days.
«Are you sure?» he asked in a low voice, almost afraid the offer might disappear.

Komori nodded without hesitation.
«Yes. It’ll do you good. Trust me.»

Sakusa spent the rest of the morning with Komori, planning in detail the temporary move to his place.
He needed to distance himself, to disconnect from everything that fueled the chaos inside him, and he knew being with Motoya would help.
After finalizing the last details, he sighed, slowly exhaling, and firmly resolved to return to training.
He missed the feeling of the ball in his hands, the rhythmic sound of shoes on the court, and — against all expectations — even the overwhelming energy of his teammates.

He arrived slightly late, slipping quietly into the gym while the rest of the team was engaged in a small game.
Meian was the first to notice and came over, letting the ball roll away.

«Sakusa, how do you feel?» asked the captain, his tone low but sincere.

Sakusa flinched slightly and turned, his dark eyes visible above the mask.
«I’m fine now. Sorry for being late…» he murmured, lowering his gaze for a moment, but Meian gave him a half-understanding smile and placed a hand on his shoulder.

«Don’t worry. Go change and join us.»

He nodded, grateful for the discretion, and disappeared into the locker room.
Once inside, he changed slowly, forcing himself to stay calm, to rebuild a semblance of balance.
He had to make it, at least for today.

When he returned to the court, he kept his gaze low, deliberately ignoring the eyes he felt burning on him.
Atsumu’s, in particular, seemed to pierce through him, insistent, almost scorching his skin, but he forced himself not to give in, not to turn around.

He participated in the training with his usual precision and focus, responding to stimuli with clarity and firmness.
No one commented when, at the start of a new three-on-three game, Sakusa positioned himself on the opposite side from Atsumu.
A detail that did not go unnoticed but that no one dared to mention.

The game began.
Passes flew fast, voices overlapped, and in an instant Sakusa really managed to distract himself.

When the game ended, he made himself stay on the court to practice serving, determined to make up for the time lost during the week.
He resumed his position with a new ball in hand, focused on the line beyond the net, when a familiar voice reached him too clearly.

«You shouldn’t push yourself so hard, it won’t do you any good.»

The tone was soft, concerned, and the sound crept under his skin, but Sakusa pretended not to hear it, gripping the ball tighter and preparing to serve again.

«Omi…»

He closed his eyes. Just for a moment.
The nickname spoken like that, with that tone — almost a caress — made him miss a beat, but he didn’t turn.
He couldn’t afford to give in, not yet, and was grateful with every fiber of his being when Bokuto’s sharp voice broke the moment, loudly calling the setter.

«Atsumu! Hana’s waiting for you!»

Sakusa let out a slow sigh, as if freed from a grip. Then he reopened his eyes, clenched his jaw, and served.

After training and a long hot shower, Sakusa returned to his room and began packing the bag he would need during his stay at his cousin’s place.
Every movement was measured, calculated carefully, yet he ended up making more noise than usual: zippers closing forcefully, wardrobe doors thrown open, clothes folded and arranged with an uncharacteristic urgency.
The room, usually obsessively tidy, now looked slightly disordered, unlike him.

Meanwhile, Atsumu, just back home after spending an hour with Hana, couldn’t think of anything else but Sakusa.
The way he had ignored him during practice burned on him like an open wound.
By now it was clear that the problem wasn’t general, but specific.

He was the only one Sakusa hadn’t spoken to, the only one he had deliberately distanced himself from.
He felt a sharp irritation seeing him choose the opposite side of the net and bit his tongue hard to keep quiet. Then, unable to shake off that feeling any longer, he made an excuse to Hana and decided to come back home.

As soon as he entered, he immediately heard Bokuto and Hinata’s loud voices coming from the living room, immersed in a video game — probably a new demo Kenma had sent the younger one to test — but he was struck by a series of suspicious noises down the hallway coming from Sakusa’s room.
Driven by curiosity, he tiptoed closer, noticing with surprise the door was open, and at that moment, a confusing wave of emotions overwhelmed him.

He entered without asking for permission.
«Listen, can we tal— what the hell are you doing?» he whispered, eyes fixed on the half-packed bag, the clothes scattered over the bed, and then the general mess in the room.

Sakusa froze, caught in the act.
For a moment he stood still, then stubbornly went back to packing the clothes into the bag, trying to ignore him.
Atsumu took a step forward, determined to get answers, but was anticipated by a cold voice, distant like an ice-cold shower in the middle of summer.

«I’m moving to Komori’s place for a while.»
He said it without turning around, avoiding his gaze.

Atsumu felt blood rush to his head.
Anger rose quickly, uncontrollable.
He took two steps toward him and grabbed his wrist, forcing him to turn around and look him in the eyes.

«What the hell is going on, Omi?! Tell me if I did something wrong, if I hurt you in any way! Tell me because I don’t want this distance, this… silence to remain between us!»

Sakusa sighed softly and shook his head.
«It’s nothing. Komori just needs a hand for a bit.» A thin lie, said in a voice too flat.

But Atsumu knew him too well by now.
His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened.
«That’s a lie! And stop lying to me! I won’t let you go until you tell me the truth!»
And he saw the raven-haired boy tremble.
Only for a moment, an imperceptible trembling of his shoulders, before he stepped back suddenly.

«Go away, Atsumu.»
The voice was cold and detached again.
«I realized we’re not compatible. It’s better if each of us goes their own way.»
He immediately added, delivering the final blow to the blond.

At those words, something inside Atsumu exploded.
He stepped forward decisively, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed him against the wall.
Height difference no longer mattered: his gaze was burning, harsh, planted into Sakusa’s surprised and scared eyes.

«You’re just talking bullshit! And I won’t believe it for a second!» he almost yelled in his face, voice broken by fury and pain.

«Not after everything we’ve been through together! Not after those laughs, those hugs you’ve never given to anyone else, and you know it.
I know you too well, Omi!»

Then, his voice lowered. It became a tired, desperate caress.
«Be honest. Please... I need to know the truth.»

He didn’t look away even for a second and saw the raven-haired boy tremble under his touch, saw his breath break, his eyes move as if looking for a way out of something they could no longer contain.
Something was tormenting him, it was obvious.

«Omi, please...» he whispered again, almost a plea.

For a moment, he saw the other’s gaze drop to his lips. Maybe it was just an illusion. Maybe not.

He leaned in a little, heart in throat.
«I want to help y-...»

But he didn’t finish the sentence.
Sakusa’s lips crashed on his, improvised, uncertain.
A trembling hand rested on his cheek, almost seeking support.
Atsumu stayed stiff for a moment, eyes wide with surprise but then gave in.
His hands, first clenched into fists on the other’s shirt fabric, opened, resting on his chest.

He leaned in even more, returning the kiss with a new hunger, a calm that had been denied to him for days.
He finally felt good.
He felt whole again.

Sakusa felt trapped.
The cold wall behind him and Atsumu’s warm body so close it took his breath away.
Every fiber of his being screamed to stay in control, not to lose lucidity but it was impossible when the other’s hands gripped his shirt, when the gaze full of anger and pain pierced him with disarming force.
He trembled.

He trembled beneath him, cursing himself for having looked at his lips, for letting his heart speak before his head.

And then that tone.
That whisper, “Omi, please...”
Something inside him broke.
Something gave way.

With a courage he didn’t know he had, he closed the distance between them and shut his eyes, bracing for the worst.
He expected to be pushed away, to hear Atsumu’s voice reject him, mock him, to see disgust in his eyes, to be told he was crazy but none of that happened.

Instead, the blond kissed him back.
His lips moved shyly against his, hesitant but real.

Am I going crazy?
This is just a dream, it has to be... God, how much I’ll hate waking up. I don’t want to.
The thought hit him like a punch, while the other’s hands rested on his chest and the kiss took shape. Clumsy, hesitant but authentic.

A faint smile formed on his lips as his heart raced wildly.
Slowly, he pulled him closer, shortening the distance between their bodies and asked for access gently.
Atsumu granted it immediately, as if he’d been waiting for just that.

The kiss deepened, more sincere, tongues hesitating at first, then urgent.
It was as if every emotion kept silent until then finally found its voice in that contact but suddenly, it was as if they’d both been burned.
They pulled apart sharply, wet mouths and wide, terrified eyes, breaths broken.
Their chests rose and fell in unison, as if they’d been running for hours.

«I-I...» Sakusa murmured, but no words really came out.
He was still in a trance, convinced he was dreaming.

Atsumu, visibly shaken, swallowed and took a step toward the door.
For a moment Sakusa thought he’d leave, that it would end there with that kiss hanging in the air but instead of crossing the threshold, the blond just closed the door behind them. Then he came back to him, took his face between his hands, and whispered

«Don’t say anything.»

And before he could react, he kissed him again.
This time with awareness.
His hands sank into the black curls, squeezing them gently, and Sakusa let out a surprised, soft moan that made Atsumu smile between his lips.
The raven-haired’s hands clung to the other’s waist, squeezing tightly as if afraid to lose him any moment.

Their tongues intertwined, over and over, hungry, desperate, and time seemed to stop.
They stayed like that, searching for each other with more and more urgency, until lack of air forced them to separate, lips swollen and breaths ragged.

Atsumu was about to speak but a persistent knocking at the door made them both jump and they pulled away sharply.
Atsumu turned just in time to see Bokuto entering with his usual energy, unaware he had just ruined something extremely fragile and intense.

«You have to join us tonight!» he exclaimed with a wide smile.

Sakusa didn’t answer.
He lowered his gaze, carefully avoiding Atsumu’s, and passed him silently, heading to the living room with his heart still pounding in his chest.

Atsumu stood still for a moment, overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions he didn’t even know how to name and then nodded, as if trying to convince himself it was all real, and followed them.

He had kissed Omi.
Or rather, Omi had kissed him.
And he had kissed back.
And then... he had kissed him again and he felt whole, calm.

A week had passed since the kiss, and neither of them had ever dared to bring it up.

Sakusa had finally decided to stay at their place, inventing a plausible excuse for his cousin just to avoid explaining something so intimate and personal.
What had happened between him and Atsumu was theirs to keep, just theirs, at least for the moment.

Without needing to agree, they had both chosen to pretend.
To act as if nothing had happened, as if that kiss no, those kisses, had been the product of a dream, a mistake, something to forget.
That stolen and burning moment remained suspended like an uncomfortable yet wonderful memory, unspoken, stuck between the folds of silence.
They tried to appear calm, serene, but the evidence was clear to everyone.

No one said anything openly, but every teammate noticed the change.
Atsumu and Sakusa were distracted, unusually silent.
Several times they found themselves messing up even the simplest things, the ones they used to do with their eyes closed. And after practice, they would part ways, ignoring each other just like when they barely tolerated each other.
They exchanged only a few words, all strictly related to the game, letting that invisible wall between them grow higher and higher.

But the truth was that both of them were suffering.

To avoid feeling worse, they chose distance and silence but that would never be enough to protect their hearts.

It was a Tuesday afternoon when everything changed.
Sakusa was sitting on the couch with Hinata, focused on discussing the next game, serious but relaxed.
He spoke with his usual concentration when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Atsumu.
The blonde was approaching slowly, with a serious look, as if he had a single goal.

When their eyes met, Sakusa raised an eyebrow, confused.
He immediately understood: Atsumu wasn’t there to chat, he wasn’t there for Hinata.
He was there for him.

He tried to stay calm, continuing to talk with his teammate, but the words started to lose meaning the moment Atsumu literally stood over him without saying a word and cupped his face with his hands.

The blonde’s lips pressed against his with urgency, decisiveness, trembling.
Sakusa’s eyes widened, shocked, and he froze, petrified.

When Atsumu pulled away, his gaze shone with a different light, intense, almost painful.
Sakusa felt his heart skip a beat.

«What does this mean...?» he whispered, dazed.

Hinata, next to them, was frozen for a few seconds, then muttered,
«Uh, I’ll leave you two alone... yeah, I’m going.»
He got up quickly and disappeared into his room, still stunned by what he had just witnessed.

Sakusa swallowed hard.
He completely ignored Hinata’s exit, keeping his gaze fixed on the blonde.
His hands, almost unconsciously, rested on Atsumu’s thighs.

«Why... why did you kiss me?
Why now?» he murmured, voice cracked.

Atsumu sighed, closed his eyes for a moment as if gathering all the courage he had, then spoke softly, as if each word were a confession.

«Because I realized, during these days away from you, that I don’t want to go on like this.
I don’t want to ignore you, and I don’t even want to be your friend.»

Those words darkened Sakusa’s face.
He felt pierced, as if Atsumu was about to tell him it had all been a mistake, that they had to cut all ties.
But then, if he didn’t even want his friendship, why the kiss?

Noticing his vacant, lost look, Atsumu moved closer, gently resting his forehead against his, and with a sweet smile on his lips, whispered,

«I’m in love with you, Omi. So much.
I realized it little by little, and now I don’t want to stay away from you anymore.
I want to live you.
I want to share every moment with you.»

Sakusa’s eyes widened, overwhelmed. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face.
One of those rare, precious smiles that Atsumu felt honored to see and receive.

He instinctively hugged him tighter, gripping his thighs as if to make sure it was real.
Atsumu was still there, on top of him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world but a truth hit him like a punch to the stomach.

«You... you’re engaged, to Hana. And you’re, or at least I thought you were, straight...» he murmured, lowering his gaze.

Atsumu, after hearing those words, burst out laughing, sincere, shaking his head.
«Not once has that word come out of my mouth, Omi.
You just assumed it» he replied and then, with a shy smile, added

«I’m bisexual.»

Sakusa stared at him, stunned.
«Why didn’t you ever tell me?» he asked, voice barely audible.

Atsumu shrugged, laughing softly.
«Because you never asked me, idiot.»

The blonde then settled more comfortably on top of him, since he was slipping slightly, and turned serious again.

«I’m not in love with Hana, I never was. Lately, I even avoided her because I couldn’t, and still can’t, think of anything but you.
Every moment together, every detail.»

Sakusa’s heart started pounding too fast, as if it wanted to jump out of his chest.
He almost feared it could fall to the floor and roll away.

Without saying anything, he leaned forward and kissed him.
Happy.
Short, quick kisses, one after the other, as if he couldn’t stop, and Atsumu chuckled, his heart full of joy.

Then Sakusa lowered his gaze, voice growing quieter, tenser.
«But she, she threatened you.»

Atsumu immediately caught the worry in his eyes and caressed his face gently, reassuring him.

«I’ll do everything I can to protect you. From the journalists, from her, from everything. But I will leave her anyway.
I’ll leave her because I’m not happy, because I love someone else.»

Sakusa looked at him, an expression mixing surprise, gratitude, fear, and hope. Then he smiled, as if he could finally breathe, grateful to be able to love someone like Atsumu and to have him by his side.

He kissed him again tenderly, shivering as he realized the truth behind those words.

Atsumu loved him.
And he... he no longer wanted to pretend he didn’t feel the same.

After that kiss on the couch, everything seemed to spiral out of control.
Atsumu, still sitting on his thighs, didn’t care at all about the composure Sakusa was desperately trying to maintain; on the contrary, with every little movement, every whisper in his ear, he seemed determined to take away even the last shred of self-control.

And when, with a cheeky smile, he moved slightly against him, intentionally, it was the last straw.

The raven-haired man’s hands landed decisively on his buttocks, then climbed to firmly grip his shape.
His dark, burning gaze met the blonde’s as he murmured against his lips in a low, rough voice,
«Remember? No couch.»

Atsumu laughed, the soft, trembling sound from his lips betraying how much he himself was struggling to stay present.
He nodded, then searched for his lips with a new urgency, and when Sakusa stood, pulling him up without saying more, he let himself be guided, arms wrapped around the other’s neck, heart pounding fiercely against his chest as he left wet kisses on the taller one’s neck.

Once inside the room, Sakusa shut the door behind them with a firm gesture, and Atsumu found himself lying on the bed, legs still entwined around his waist without even realizing how he’d gotten there.
He looked at him with a mischievous grin full of desire before pulling him close again, as if he couldn’t get enough.

Sakusa leaned over him, closer than ever, and Atsumu could feel his warm breath on his neck.
The raven-haired man’s fingers moved slowly, exploring every inch of the body beneath him with a tenderness that made the other tremble, as if still asking for permission despite their closeness, unable to believe this was real.
Their bodies sought and recognized each other, joining in a touch that sent a shiver down both their spines when both their shirts hit the floor.

Atsumu moaned his name softly, biting hard on his lower lip while Sakusa closed his eyes, trying not to lose the last bit of self-control, continuing the slow torture on the blonde’s chest, biting and licking his most sensitive spots, then lingering on a nipple, sucking gently and slowly, taking revenge for the way he’d moved his hips.
Their breaths mingled, ragged, while hands got lost between bare skin and feverish glances.

Words were useless, not at that moment.

Sakusa moaned at the clash of their lips, their erections now visible, and gripped the blonde’s hips firmly, forcing him to stay still, smiling slyly as he heard him whine like a child.

They fell one after the other, pushed away by impatient hands and desire-filled gazes.
They teased each other with whispers and small gestures, knowing smiles and bites on exposed skin.
Every inch was touched as if sacred, as if memorizing each other’s bodies.

Atsumu moaned softly every time Sakusa grazed a sensitive spot, each skillful touch a spark setting his senses on fire.
The raven-haired man, on the other hand, seemed lost, hypnotized by the sounds he managed to draw from the blonde, by how his body trembled, shivered beneath his hands, submissive but at the same time provocative.

He prepared him carefully, after sliding his fingers into the blonde’s mouth and biting his own lip hard until it bled, excited by those sensual yet provocative gestures.
His tongue moved precisely over his fingers, awakening every nerve. Then, once satisfied, he pulled them out and slowly brought them to his entrance, pushing them in firmly without ever breaking eye contact.
He wanted to make sure every move was wanted, every reaction genuine.
Atsumu, breath broken and body arched beneath him, murmured confused, encouraging words as his hips moved slightly, searching for him, asking him to go further.

And Sakusa, after the nth plea from the blonde’s swollen lips, did it.

He smiled slyly and plunged slowly inside him, moaning his name at his lips as if it were the only thing he could remember at that moment.
Atsumu welcomed him, head thrown back on the pillow, a broken moan carrying everything: desire, built-up tension, emotion, love.

They kissed fiercely, lips seeking and taking each other without restraint while their bodies moved in a disorderly rhythm, overwhelmed by a passion that seemed to grow with every second.

Sakusa felt the blonde’s nails digging into his back, scratching him without any gentleness, and instead of stopping, moaned louder, pushing himself deeper, searching for total contact, something beyond flesh.

It was as if they wanted to merge, to forget everything else, forget fears, doubts, reality itself. In that moment, there was only them.

Only Atsumu. Only Kiyoomi.
No one else.

The next morning, they were still tangled up in Sakusa’s bed, wrapped in rumpled sheets and a muffled silence that smelled of peace.
Kiyoomi slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the soft light filtering through the window, and found Atsumu lying on his chest, his steady, warm breath against his skin.

For a moment, he stayed still, listening to that calm rhythm as if it were music. Then, almost without realizing it, he pulled him closer, burying his fingers in his golden hair, stroking it with a tenderness new to him, even unfamiliar. He didn’t want to wake him.
Not yet.

He needed to savor that moment, to imprint on himself the feeling of Atsumu’s body against his, the reality surrounding him.

Because it wasn’t a dream.
It was real.

And he understood it by the way his heart warmed in his chest, filling him like never before.
He was peaceful. Complete.
Finally, he was happy.

Atsumu murmured something against his chest, stretching slightly, then lifted his sleepy gaze and found Sakusa’s eyes fixed on him.
He held his breath for a second, overwhelmed by the simple and disarming beauty of the raven-haired boy in the morning: tousled curls, long lashes, the tender look he rarely let show.

«Good morning» he whispered with a small smile before leaning forward and kissing him softly, a brief stamp of lips, as if to seal everything that had happened the night before.
He stroked the boy’s cheek below him with his thumb and, with a barely audible breath, murmured,
«I love you.»

Sakusa felt his heart skip a beat.
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot, but in the end, he gave in and hugged him tight, hiding his face in the other’s neck, breathing in his scent before whispering

«I love you too... Atsumu.»
Without any fear, without hesitation, with a certainty that shook him deep inside.

The blond chuckled, amused by that unexpectedly firm reply, and got back on top of him, covered only by boxer shorts.
He looked around with a mock seriousness, then locked eyes with him again and said, quite pleased,
«You know, I think I could get used to waking up like this way too easily.»

Kiyoomi huffed and gave him a light smack on the back of the neck, making him laugh heartily.

«Idiot» he muttered, but his tone was anything but stern.
It was affectionate, almost adoring.

And Atsumu, still above him, couldn’t have wished for anything better.

It had been two weeks since Atsumu had officially left Hana.
Two weeks during which Sakusa felt as if something he’d never really had had been returned to him.
He didn’t say it out loud — he wasn’t that kind of person — but he was content. Fundamentally.

Happy not to have to share the blond with anyone else anymore, not to have to hide his gaze when he saw him on the phone with her or heard her name from others.

Now Atsumu was his, only his.
And he loved that.

Of course, their privacy lasted only a short while.
After Bokuto had caught them kissing in the locker room — not just any kiss, but one dangerously close to crossing the line of decency — the news spread through the team faster than wildfire.

And, given the team’s collective maturity level was close to zero, when they returned to the court a few days later, they were greeted with thunderous applause, stadium-like whistles, and cheers of approval.
Atsumu took a theatrical bow, wearing a triumphant smirk, and proudly declared,

«Well, not everyone can brag about making Sakusa Kiyoomi fall in love with them, gentlemen!»
But before he could finish, he got hit with a ball right in the back.

«Shut up, idiot. Remember I can always dump you» grumbled the spiker, embarrassed but serious, as the team erupted in another wave of laughter.
Yet, a single slow, cold look from Sakusa silenced everyone like a guillotine.

He sighed deeply, already tired before practice even started, and said firmly,
«Please... keep this to yourselves. I don’t want rumors, scandals, or gossip. This is between us.»

«Sure! Absolute secret!» Bokuto immediately promised, raising both hands as if swearing on the constitution.

The others nodded in chorus, some even mimicking zipping their lips.

Everything seemed settled, until Hinata, in full enthusiasm, proposed with the widest smile ever,
«Group date? Like double-double-double couple? What do you say?!»

Sakusa rolled his eyes, visibly exhausted, barely restraining from throwing a water bottle at him.

«Let’s go, before he commits murder.»
Inunaki muttered, and Atsumu, laughing, grabbed his boyfriend’s wrist and dragged him toward the center of the field, shouting,
«Training starts now! Let’s go, guys!»

And so, amid silly jokes, knowing looks, and veiled threats, they had become an official couple.

They had just finished the most important match of the championship against the Adlers, and had come out victorious.
Five intense sets, fought to the last point, had drained every bit of energy from the players, but the joy of winning was enough to erase the fatigue.

The scene exploded with a roar of applause and cheers, while the team celebrated in the center of the court.
Hinata bounced everywhere like a cricket, cheering and hugging teammates one by one.
Sakusa saw him approach his boyfriend, who played for the opposing team, to tease him affectionately with a joke that made even the journalists on the sidelines laugh.

In moments, the press stormed the court, surrounding the players with microphones and cameras.
Sakusa found himself caught unwillingly in a barrage of questions, feeling suffocated by the crowd, yet responding with a measured, precise tone.
He shuddered when he caught Atsumu’s gaze from afar: the blond seemed completely at ease, smiling, laughing, moving under the spotlights as if born for it.

«There’s a lot of chemistry between you and Miya on the court» a journalist said, approaching Sakusa.
«Is that something you’ve cultivated over time?»

Kiyoomi held back a smile, his hands clasped in front of him.
«We’ve worked hard on it» he answered calmly.
«We spend a lot of time together off the court too, since we’re roommates. It was a gradual process, but in the end, we became great friends.»

His answer was met with more clicks and notes as the interview wrapped up and the boys prepared for the second part of the evening, having booked a local to celebrate their victory.

Once back home for a quick freshen-up, Sakusa sat on the bed, already dressed in a light shirt with sleeves rolled up impeccably to his elbows and elegant black pants.
He watched Atsumu reflected in the mirror, carefully fixing his hair.
After a few seconds of silence, he let slip in a distracted voice,

«Do you think… they’ll notice if we’re late?»
He rose slowly from the bed, moving like a cat as he approached the blond behind him.

Atsumu immediately caught the intention behind that look and chuckled softly, turning toward him.

«Hmm, I think no one will mind» he murmured teasingly, wrapping his arms around his neck before leaning in and kissing him decisively, pushing him back until he fell lightly onto the bed.

In an instant, he was straddling him, his hands skillful, his shirt just undone enough to reveal part of Sakusa’s chest.
He looked down at him, smiling as if he’d just won the lottery.

«You’re damn attractive, you know that?»
He murmured, his voice full of complicity.

Sakusa laughed, shaking his head with an amused expression before whispering back affectionately,
«You’re such an idiot, Miya.»
This made the other laugh and whisper

«And yet you love me for tha—...»
His words trailed off as Sakusa’s lips met his, feeling himself pulled closer, and Atsumu made no move to stop him.

They arrived at the venue noticeably late enough to raise more than a few eyebrows.
The official excuse was traffic — Atsumu had said it seriously while turning off his car — but the skeptical and amused looks from the team showed otherwise.

Sakusa, resigned, huffed lightly.
«Alright, we’re late for reasons that don’t involve traffic» he admitted flatly, making most of those present laugh.
Without adding more, he moved toward the bar for a drink, knowing he’d need it for the rest of the night.
Some things, after all, hadn’t changed.

Yet, as the hours passed, Sakusa found himself genuinely enjoying the evening.
With Atsumu by his side, everything seemed simpler, lighter.
They danced close together, wrapped in each other’s arms under colored lights and loud music, and for the first time, Kiyoomi didn’t care who was watching them.
When he felt the blond pull him to his chest, he slipped into his arms naturally and returned that spontaneous kiss, letting slip a small “I love you” whispered against the other’s lips before seeing him step away to get another drink.

Sakusa paused for a moment, looking around at the crowded room.
He was surrounded by friendly faces, people he trusted, with whom he had shared joys, struggles, and defeats.
A smile formed on his lips when a familiar drink appeared right in front of him—his favorite.
He took it with a curious nod, but it was the presence behind him that made his shoulders relax.
Right after gripping the glass, he felt Atsumu’s free arm wrap naturally around him while his face peeked over his shoulder.
Kiyoomi smiled, relaxed like he hadn’t been in a long time, and turned slightly to meet the blond’s gaze, unaware that Bokuto, not far away, was holding up his phone.

«Don’t do it, Koutarou» Akaashi whispered, but it was too late.
There was no flash, but the photo made its way to Bokuto’s gallery in seconds, who quickly sent it to the team chat, adding a heart emoji and a
“Too cute not to capture.”

Later, with Atsumu chatting with Hinata and Kageyama, Sakusa found a free armchair and sat down, letting out a brief sigh.
He took out his phone and saw the photo Bokuto had sent.
He opened it out of habit but froze as the image loaded.

The shot showed him and Atsumu, the latter hugging him from behind, his face resting on his shoulder, both immersed in a moment of sincere intimacy.
They weren’t smiling for the photo.
They were smiling because they were happy.

Without thinking too much, a spontaneous smile formed on his lips.
The thought of how much his life had changed in just one year caught him by surprise.
How much he had changed.
He was no longer alone — not only in a romantic sense but in the deepest, most intimate way possible.
He had a team, friends, a love he had learned to live with courage.

Driven by a sudden burst of boldness, he saved the photo and opened Instagram.
His fingers trembled slightly as he posted it as a story, choosing a small, simple heart to place in the corner.
He wrote nothing else.
He hit publish, then put the phone away, slipping it into his pocket, and stood up determined to enjoy the night and the rest of his life.

When Atsumu later got the notification, he frantically searched the crowd for him, and the corvino saw his eyes immediately grow wide.
The blond’s brown eyes found Sakusa’s dark ones right after, and the corvino calmly approached him.
He shrugged, with an almost amused expression at the confusion and surprise on the other’s face.

«I don’t want to hide anymore» he murmured sincerely, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him close.
«I know I can face anything if you’re there with me, by my side.»

Atsumu trembled slightly, moved, overwhelmed by emotion, and put a hand on his cheek, brushing it gently with his thumb.

«I’ll stay by your side forever, Omi» he whispered against his lips, his voice low, sure, and sincere.

And then he kissed him, slowly and infinitely tenderly, without any hurry, sealing with that gesture the promise they had exchanged, everything they had built, and everything that awaited them.