Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He didn’t know how it started.

Two fingers scratched the back of his throat.

He couldn't remember.

His stomach spasmed.

Maybe it was a few months ago.

Acrid bile rose up in his trachea.

Maybe it was when Samu chose to leave volleyball behind. Maybe it was when he first heard the rumors. Maybe it was when he realised that if he couldn’t behave like Samu at least he could still be better looking. Maybe it was when he started counting the calories to build up muscles. Maybe it started when he needed to take a little less place, to make himself a little less.

The salad he had eaten a few minutes ago came back up into the toilet bowl he was hunched over.

Or maybe it started with lingering gazes over his body soon followed by some wild fingers caressing patches of skin.

He retched again, sweat dripping down his back and trembling hands gripping the ceramic.

He didn’t really know when it all started to go downhill.

His stomach cramped again with nothing but air and saliva dripping from his lips.

Tears dripped down his face as black spots filled his vision.

Maybe he was cursed and doomed to live his life this way, for patterns to always repeat themselves.

His breath quickened and soon enough his thoughts and the world around him started spinning and tipping. The only thing he remembered before darkness overtook him was the lightening of his phone’s screen and the distinct sound of Omi’s text notification.

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~5 years ago

Atsumu has always been the loudest one of the twins, the one who shone brighter, the one with the sharpest tongue. Osamu on his side was more reserved, he could have a tongue as sharp as Astumu’s but his quieter and more reserved personality made him seem, if not gentler, less aggressive. Atsumu liked to think they had this connection where no words were needed to understand each other. He liked to think that as much as he understood Osamu, Osamu understood him. He liked to think that even though they looked the same, people could still differentiate him from his beloved twin for his good sides and not only for his brash attitude. He liked to think that Osamu’s friends were his. He liked to think that the critics barked both on and off court by his teammates were just jokes thrown around to encourage him to do better. He liked to think that whatever people could say, it could never breach the walls he had built around himself. He liked to think that their parents loved them both the same. He liked to think that the fact he had fangirls meant that he was loved. Oh he liked to think that.

But if he were honest with himself, he knew that if he got quieter people would mess him up with Osamu but that they never thought Osamu was him - how could he be the loud and obnoxious Atsumu. He knew that as much as some joked about him to tease him, some thought no less. He knew from the moment he received his first letter in the locker with big red words of hate that he would never be as liked as his brother. He knew from the 1st time he tried inviting people to his birthday, when he and Osamu held separate parties, and that none came to his and all went to Osamu’s that he would never be as liked. He knew from the growing bruise on his ribs that he would never be enough for his parents. He knew he would never be as perfect as he would have wished to be.

Maybe if he tried harder on the court. Maybe if he trained harder. Maybe if he worked harder on his grades. Maybe if he made an effort to tame his voice and words he could be just enough. He just needed to be enough but not too much. Maybe if he made an effort to be a little bit less of a burden then he would be a little more praised. Maybe.

He hit the ball harder and it hit the ground in a resounding smack across the gym. Sweat was dripping from his forehead as he watched it go beyond the line. His hands were trembling with effort and exhaustion, the muscles in his arms screaming fatigue and his legs wobbling under his weight. And yet, he huffed and pushed through as he picked up another ball and got back into position, ignoring the flaring pain in his ribs. They were still sensible from yesterday night.

“Miya. It’s been 3 hours.”

He launched the ball again. It spinned in the air as his feet started hitting the floor before pushing him from the ground to strike it again. The ball whipped the air before landing yet again behind the line.

“Miya. You need to go home.”

He tsked and went to grab another one and try again. He readied his stance, correcting his footwork and his body angle. He launched the ball, aligned his steps, jumped, readied his arm before striking the ball. Well, at least he tried but miscalculated his timing and ended up brushing the ball with his fingertips. He hissed as his shoulder made itself known to him after missing his target, the muscle not quite ready to hit nothing but air. He massaged it while going to get another ball from the basket. But as he went to grab one, a hand stopped his and his eyes met brow and steady ones.

“ Atsumu.” He huffed at the use of his name. “Your brother went home hours ago. I already crossed the hour mark to train with you.”

_ I need to train.”

He needed to be better for the team, for himself, for his brother. They had yet another fight and Osamu went home with Suna after practice while he stayed here to train some more. He would probably never admit that he stalled as much as possible the moment he had to get home.

“You’ll be of no use to the team if you hurt yourself now.” He pinched his lips, avoiding the piercing gaze from his captain. “We need our setter, Miya.”

He breathed heavily through his nose and scrunched his eyebrows.

“ ‘Samu could do it.”

It was petty and he knew he was just throwing a tantrum. He was holding back Kita from going home too and was just burdening him by having him look after him. He could not even remember what the fight with Osamu was about in the first place but if he had an excuse to stay longer after practice, he always took it to push himself harder, to be better. Kita just happened to be willing to train a bit more and probably also to make sure he got home before it got too dark outside.

“No. He couldn’t and you know it. I need to close the gym, Miya.”

His shoulder sagged as he released his hold on the ball he had gripped. Biting his lips he looked up to the worried gaze of his captain. He needed to be better, he could not make everyone worry so much about him, they had better things to do than to stop him from pushing his boundaries too far. He knew he must look tired, he felt tired, but he needed to be better, to be able to send perfect sets and to hit perfect serves no matter his physical or psychological condition. If he could not be liked by the team he could at least find some purpose in his usefulness on court and satisfaction in the results. He could not allow himself to make mistakes. And Kita was right, Osamu could not do what he did, he was awfully talented but talent “untrained” - he trained, just not as much - could not keep up with the training regiment he self-imposed himself.

“Yeah, maybe.”

The grey haired boy went to release his hold on his hand but as his eyes went down to see his grip, eyebrows knitted, he adjusted it on his wrist instead, circling it with his fingers in a way he was not supposed to be able to do with an athlete. As his gaze went up again, a new indescribable emotion on his face asking too many questions at the same time, he released his hold.

“You know you can talk to me whenever you need to, Atsumu ?”

A warm feeling spread across his chest soon snuffed out by the weariness in his bones and the reminder of the reason why he was there to start with : he could not speak to anyone because they did not really care and had better or bigger things to deal with. That’s why he found solace in training, repetitive movements allowing him to evacuate his feelings through exercises. Yet, here was Kita, holding his eyes, waiting for something, ready to care. And he might have talked, right here and there were it not for the doors of the gymnasium slamming open and an angry looking Osamu storming inside the building. It must have been longer than he thought if even he came back for him.

« Oï ! Mom’s waiting for you to come home, you stupid face. It’s been hours and you know how she gets. She even sent me to get your wrinkled ass back. »

And just like that, he plastered his signature smile on his face as if nothing was wrong in the first place before addressing Kita again.

« Thank you but I’m okay. » And then he turned to his brother yelling back at him. « Oï, I’m coming you ugly ass face ! Don’t you have eyes to see I’m packing or was it also destroyed with your last remaining brain cell in the past hour ?! »

He saw from the corner of his vision his captain pinching his lips, not seeming quite convinced and yet choosing to drop the subject for today.

That night when he came home, ribs still throbbing in pain, he was told to get to his homework before it’s too late and eat after. After all, if he came home late it was his own fault and he had to “suffer the consequences of his actions” as his father liked to say.

So, for the 3rd night in a row he skipped his meal, falling asleep on his homeworks only to wake up in the middle of the night, a blanket on his shoulders and an Osamu snoring softly in the top bunk bed.

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Maybe it had started with the soft complaints of his mother about the cost of life and food. Maybe it started when he saw his mother shooting worried glances at their full plate of food and satisfied ones when he took a little bit less at every meal. It did not bother him to make sacrifices for the family if it meant that Osamu could eat as much as he wanted and that their mom would be able to keep her current workload without adding more hours to her shift. He was glad to make this sacrifice if it meant he got a little more praised looks from his mom and that he took a little bit less room for himself, attracting less attention.

Maybe it started unconsciously when after sacrificing some of his share, he realised he now was not that hungry at the sight of food. Or maybe it was because he regretted bitterly giving relationships a try. Stress was eating him from the inside. He did not know why he did it when he was so focused on volleyball all the time and that she did not even know what the positions were. He did not know why he said ‘yes’ when he desperately screamed ‘no’ inside. He did not know why he did not run from her the moment she jumped on him in the locker room. Maybe it was because they teased him for being still single. Maybe it was so that he could gloat about it like the dumb teenager he was.

And yet here he was with mixed feelings trying to hold on his tears and to mask the wobble in his voice. The hickey on his hips left no room for doubting what happened the day before though it felt like everything had happened in a daze. He remembered it from an out of body experience but he memorized every sensation from the texture of her false blond hair, damaged from the treatment they received - kind of like him - , to the warmth of her hips and the rhythm she imposed on him. He remembered the shame he felt, the pleasure climbing and yet contradicting how he felt deep inside, dirty, tired, disgusted and out of control. He remembered being left there, arm on his eyes, back on the bench, while she climbed off of him to take a shower and then leave, happy to have ridden one of the famous Miya twins. He remembered which bench it was, eyes glancing up and down from Suna’s face to the wooden surface he sweated and cried on the day before.

“I bet it felt awesome !”

He laughed and smiled and lied through his teeth. They asked him if it happened, how and where and here he was. He was now desperately trying to keep his panic under control.

“Was she good?”

“How was it ?”

“When was it ? You were more energetic before practice I bet it was before that !”

That he had been, but more because he had been stressed than because he was excited. He was swarmed with questions left and right, making him bounce his head as fast as she bounced her hips, panic starting to rise and ready to drown him should they say the wrong thing. Trying to keep his head above the water while he felt his lungs getting more constricted. He tried to dismiss their questions by being his cliché self, hoping his acting skills did not let them see through the facade he was building.

“Hahaha, you know how it is guys, a gentleman never reveals a lady’s secret.”

He laughed it off, his snarky signature smile making its way on his face.

“Ok ok, but did you enjoy it ? I bet it must have felt awesome ! Nice round hips and titties !”9

His breath hitched. Ho boy was it the wrong question. He had no idea how he managed not to burst right here and now into an ugly mess of tears. It wouldn’t have looked good and he refused to give Kita more reason to be worried and for Osamu and Suna to start asking questions. Maybe he might talk about it to ‘Samu later. Maybe never. He realised it might have been thinking for a bit too long, the looks getting a bit more insistent.

“Hahahaha.” He waved his hand before his face playing it off. “Who do you think I am ? Of course it was amazing !”

He tried hiding the slight tremor of his hands by lacing his shoes. But when he looked up, he crossed the look of the two who did not utter a single word during this short interrogation : Suna just raised an eyebrow while Osamu, him, frowned before glancing back to his still trembling hands. But before his twin could say anything though, Suna jumped back on the subject, slightly teasing him.

“You did not bail, did you?”

He raised his eyebrow and huffed, both because of course he did not bail, and regretting not having thought of telling them he had bailed just to be left alone. But instead of letting anything betray the growing pit in his stomach, he just looked offended at Suna, placing his hand on his chest and opening his mouth to simulate chock.

“Me ? Bailing ? You hurt me, Suna !” The latter's eyebrows jumped up to his hairline.

“You bail all the time with me and Osamu ?

_ I- I’m scandalised you might insinuate that I am willingly skipping date night where you two cuddle and eat each other’s mouth in disgusting noises that I absolutely wish I had been able to erase from my memory ?!”

Laughs echoed against the wall of the room as everyone finished getting ready for practice. Still sitting on the bench, he packed his uniform in his bag before rising to follow everyone out. Except, he stood up only to sit right back, heart beating in his chest and the world heavily spinning around him.

“Damn, I knew you could have some coordination problems but this is something even a toddler could do.

_ Rho, shut it ‘Samu.”

He tried putting some bite in his words but the only thing that he was biting was his own tongue to stop or at least diminish the rising nausea. His twin must have picked up on that as his tone changed to something softer and with a hint of worry in it.

“You okay there ?”

He tried talking but one second the world was spinning and the next his eyes set on the bench where Suna had been sitting on a few minutes ago. The bench where his drenched back rested for god knows how long after it. The bench where she wiped her moisturized fingers. The bench where -

“Imma throw up.”

It was all the warning he gave before shooting up on his feet, hand on the wall to help with his rather questionable balance, and rushing past his twin towards the bathroom, barely making it to the closest stall. His knees gave up beneath him, hitting the ground in a sound noise, as he retched the water he had drank before. The sweat started accumulating on his forehead as the saliva dripped from his bottom lip.

“Tsum tsum?”

He flinched from the hand that tried supporting him which now just hung weirdly over his body. A pair of knees joined him on the cold floor of the bathroom. His breath quickened and his heart seemed to try and burst out of his chest. His muscles spasmed again as he threw up what little was left in his stomach, only bile and saliva coming up into the bowl. He needed to calm himself. He retched one last time before his nausea quenched and he was left drenched in his own sweat. He spat the acrid taste from his mouth into the dirtied water before sitting back and resting his back against the stall wall. The figure he recognised as his twin through his tears flushed the toilets before crouching before him.

“You should have said you were sick today. There was nothing but bile in there.” He marked a pause during which only his heavy breaths could be heard. “Can I take your temperature ?”

This made no sense to him. Why would his own twin need to ask before putting hand on his forehead ? His head felt heavy and a migraine started to itself known behind his eyes. His head felt like it was made of cotton while his hands felt numb from the grip he had applied on the bowl.

“Why you asking’ ?

_ You flinched.”

He tried to remember when he did that before the moment flashed back into his mind. Except, Astumu never flinched and certainly never away from his twin. The only exception to this rule was when they were in the house, his always tense and ready to flee posture made him flinch from everything.

“Ho-

_ Yeah, so can I ?

_ Yeah.”

A sigh of content passed his lips as a cold hand laid on his burning forehead.

“Shit !

_ Language.” His snarky smile made a brief appearance while his closed eyes rested and calmed his building headache.

“You burnin’ up you shit face !

_ W’have same face.

_ Mine’s much prettier.

_ Mine.”

Their banter was interrupted by their captain calling for them from the door of the locker room.

“Oï, you two can’t be late for practice, we have the nationals to qualify for in a month.”

He just stared as Osamu rose up to his feet and went to exit the bathroom. But before he could so much as make a step he grabbed his hand.

“Stay.”

He saw him bite his lips before looking back and forth from his form still sitting on the ground to the door. He seemed to have made his decision as he crouched back down and instead called for their captain.

“Tsumu’s sick. You think you could call for Rin? And if you have pain killers that would be wonderful ? I’m carrying him home, there’s no way he’s making it on his own and I had rather not leave him alone in the locker or bring him in the gym, it’s quite loud in there.”

The response was immediate and laced with worry yet again. He never gave him reprieve these days.

“He’s sick ? No wonder he was so pale back then. I might have some paracetamol in my bag and I’ll bring Suna at the same time. Take the day off, practice can wait, health is more important.”

He felt so cold his teeth started clattering and yet a bead of sweat was visible on his forehead. He heard footsteps getting quieter and what felt like seconds but was probably minutes of worried glance from his twin, two pairs of footsteps came back.

“Here I have his water and some medicine.

_ Thanks.

_ Ho yeah. He does look like shit, not that it’s different from any other day. But he looks like shit shit.”

He tried speaking to tell Suna to fuck off but clearly did not find it in him to muster up the energy to do so. He only managed to slur some weird weak sound that no one but him heard. The next thing he knew was that cold water was brought up to his dry lips. He drank like there was no tomorrow, as if he had been dried out like a flower in a desert… which he probably looked like judging by the crusty feeling of his lips. After having downed half of the bottle he took a break to regain his breath before trying to go back to quench his thirst but the bottle was taken from his lips.

“Take this with it. And don’t drink too much too fast, you’ll just throw up again.”

A pill was put on his tongue and the cool liquid given back to him. After a few minutes he managed to open his eyes and locked them with Osamu’s.

“You think you could stand up ? I’m bringing you home.

_ But- practice ?”

His twin and Suna huffed an amused breath as if he had said something funny or completely stupid… thinking of it, it might be both.

“You’re clearly in no state for practice and I won’t be able to focus before we get you home safe.”

His brother pushed one strand of hair away from his burning forehead before standing up and giving him a hand to help up.

« Common, let’s get you home. »

He got up, a hand in Osamu’s and one behind him to catch him in case he fell back. After his balance was back to normal, his twin turned around and squatted, waiting for him to climb on his back while Suna waited at the door with their bags. The moment he was secured on his brother’s back, the latter sprung up so fast that he almost fell back was it not for his arm around his brother’s neck and his legs secured in his arms. But rather than starting to walk , the grey haired boy just stood where he was, unmoving, as if paralyzed. And then the hands that were securing his legs reaffirmed their hold on his thighs and then moved up to his knees stopping right there as Osamu inhaled sharply. Suna, who was walking through the door seconds before, turned around with a questioning look while Kita just pinched his lips - it often meant he was trying not to say something he would probably regret or that he was trying not to voice out his concerns. There were a few seconds where no one said a thing, a heavy silence weighing the room.

« Am I too heavy for yo-

_ ‘Tsumu, when was the last time you ate a meal ? »

The room stilled. A pin dropped. The only thing he could hear was the fast beating of his blood in his ears and the stilled almost inexistant breath of his brother.

“What do you mean ?

_ Don’t bullshit me.

_ Last night wh-

_ Not this shitty excuse of a meal ! A mean a real meal, like the one we used to take and that mother would blame us for but that we don’t give a shit about !

_ I- ”

When was the last time he had a real meal ? When was the last time he felt full, like really full ? He could not remember. His arms tightened around Osamu’s neck, searching for a comfort he had not been able to get from his own twin for a long time. He couldn't even remember when was the last time they truly hugged. He would have laughed if he had not had tears threatening to spill over. Sensing the worried glance shot his way, he buried his face in his brother's back, muttering an answer under his breath only he could hear.

« You what ?

_ I don’t know.

_ You- Jesus Christ Tsumu, you can’t do that. I can feel every surface of your god damn spatula.” He passed his thumb over a peculiarly sharp edge to support his words. “You can’t starve yourself when you’re aiming for professional sports team later on.

_ I know.

_ If you know, why did you do it ?

_ Because I gave a shit.

_ You gave a shit about what ?

_ Mom’s reproach about the quantities.

_ I- You took it seriously didn’t you ?”

And was it not the whole problem. He took everything to the heart. He tried to tell himself that nothing could affect him and yet here he was, head hurried in his twin’s back, biting his lips to try and hold on tears that threatened to spill again and unable to move because he pushed himself too hard to try and please everyone around him. The hands that were on his knees came back under his thighs to support his meager weight.

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The walk home was made in silence. It was neither uncomfortable or unnerving, just silent. Even when they’d reached the house, Osamu did not let go of him and proceeded to just climb the stairs and put him directly into bed despite his protests. But when he tried to leave the room to say goodbye to his boyfriend, he latched onto his arm begging him to come back right after, which he promised instantly. Through his dazed mind he still managed to hear them talk about him - quite not as discrete as they thought they were - through the door that was slightly ajar.

“How bad is it ?

_ I don’t know Rin. I’ve never thought he had taken her so seriously. I wondered why she had gotten quieter about the quantity we ate when a few months ago she couldn’t stop talking about the price of food and how much teenage boys ate. Now I know.” There was a short silence, probably to take a breath or pass his hands through his hair. “For fuck’s sake ! He starved himself Rin.

_ That’s why he was getting so thin ?

_ I don’t know how I did not see it I live under the same roof damn it !

_ Shht. Not so loud - ”

And he never heard the rest of the discussion, his fevered mind slipping in and out of consciousness. He barely remembered what happened in the next hours, just that Osamu finally came back and only left to take a shower and make him a soup easy to digest.

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He came back to himself a few hours later in cold sweats, a pounding headache waking him up mixed with nausea. He turned his head only to see a glass of water with a painkiller next to it he guessed Osamu must have left before going to sleep. He did not even know what time it was.

He tried going back to sleep only to fail because of the world spinning around him even with his eyes closed. When grabbing the water, he had noticed his phone not far away from the drink and now hunched to it right at the moment were his screen lit up with a text notification. Turning his screen on, he read the top notifications which were different texts telling him to take care of himself and not to die before the nationals because they did not have the time to train another setter - even though his brother was here. But then, as he skimmed through the notifications he fell on one he had absolutely wished to have never seen.

Yesterday was wonderful honey !

Let’s do it again next time we see each other !

You gave me the flu >n<

You’re the only one I fucked these days :( it couldn't be someone else

;-; I feel awful

His phone clattered in a loud noise on the floor, resonating like the sound of his body hitting a locker while her lip descended on his torso, leaving a trail of saliva behind. His breath started to quicken, his nose got stuffed and his eyes started watering. The node in his throat tightened and fortunately the nausea had almost disappeared otherwise he was sure he would have thrown up right here and there. The noise must have woken up Osamu - if he was asleep to start with - for he saw vaguely his silhouette crouching before him, his face lightened by the phone’s screen showing the text she had sent him.

“Tsumu ?”

He sniffed, trying to catch his breath as flashes of memories and sounds went through his mind. He hated it. He had hated it ! So why had his body enjoyed the feeling ?! Why had his body responded that way ! He brought his knees to his torso, circling them with his arms and putting his head between his shoulders, shoulders that were starting to shake with emotions and unshed tears. His heart was beating so fast he felt the blood pumping through his fingertips. He couldn’t focus. His mind swirled with moments he did not even know he had lived the day before. He heard the wet repetitive sound of her effort to turn him on. He remembered the heat and the tightness around him. He placed his hands on his ears, gripping at his yellow hair. Yellow hair she gripped firmly with her hand while the other had just scratched his back with her nails, leaving a red angry trail of claws.

“-mu”

He sucked in a breath as tears started falling from his blurred vision. He remembered how she licked them, tensing around him and enjoying the view of his ruined body and face. He remembered the whispered words in his ear, mixed with hot and fast breaths, her hands trailing all over his torso before teeth sank into his shoulder, leaving an angry purple mark. He remembered her hand guiding him around her body as she moaned him orders to follow, playing his will to please around his reluctance.

“ATSUMU !”

Two hands ripped his from his hair. His head snapped up, heart suddenly stopping and breath getting caught in his throat.

“Breathe with me.”

One of his hand was guided to the chest in front of him and he started unconsciously mimicking the calm and exaggerated breaths of the silhouette. He did not know how long it took for him to completely calm down but once he was back into reality, all his senses felt like they had been enhanced by a thousand but at the same time felt terribly numb and that needles were poking his hands a thousand times per minute, a static sensation going back to his elbows.

“You back with me ?”

He looked up to Osamu and just nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment, hands still in his firm and grounding grip. He felt so exhausted he could fall asleep right here and there but he pushed through, sensing his twin wasn’t going to let him escape the situation so easily.

“You wanna talk about it ?”

He shrugged his shoulders. Not that he did not wanted to talk about it but more that he did not know how to talk about.

“Is it about the food problem ?”

He shrugged again. He could deal with that. It was kind of a nice way to talk about his last starving tendency. Osamu pinched his lips before looking down at the phone with a now cracked screen and something seemed to tick in his head.

“Is it about her ?”

His breath catches again and it seemed to suffice as an answer for him.

« Did she cheated on you ? »

He shook his head. He would laugh if he could but he was so tired and emotionally drained that the only thing he felt he could do right now was cry again - even that he doubted he could do.

“Ok. At least she didn’t do that so soon after you had sex. I would have killed her.”

He almost wished she had done that instead… he mumbled so under his breath, not thinking about his closeness to the ear of his brother. This might be the moment the pieces started clicking together in the grey haired boy’s head. Atsumu’s hand had gripped almost painfully his brother’s hand when the crude word “sex” had been pronounced, it was such a small and delicate word compared to what she had done. He sniffed again as the knot in his throat tightened again and the tears started running again against his cheeks. The hazelnut eyes of his brother widened as his jaw locked into place, the muscle so tense that he could see every fibre of it.

“Is this because of what happened with her ?”

He did not need to nod for his brother already knew from his tensed posture and his breaths that started speeding up again. He simply bursted into tears before throwing himself into Osamu’s open arms.

“I- I- ho my g-g-g-god ‘Samu ! I sai- sai- yes but- but- “, it was harder to speak through the tears and the hiccups shaking his body, “I never wanted to do it. I-”, he didn’t know how he felt. He just knew he felt disgusting. He was a man and he let himself be a victim when he could have just said no and had the physical strength to do so. He was a goddamn athlete and he didn’t even run away from her. “A-And it felt ho-horrible and y-y-y-yet it has felt s-so … ”, he couldn’t even bring himself to say it. To say how much he really liked it. How his body got turned on multiple times. How he came each time like a slut. “I feel disgusting.

_ Don’t ever say that again !” Osamu had pushed him back a little so that he could look him in the eyes. “You felt confused and you did not want it, that’s a fact, and it’s totally normal that your body reacted this way ! We’re humans, Tsumu. We have a biology that’s sometimes independent from our mind and doesn't give us a say in certain situations and it's normal.”

Tears poured even more as he clung to the boy’s shirt, scared that he would want to get away from him. His cries were answered by a crushing hug, snuffing out all his thoughts and letting him cry all that he had kept for himself for years. He cried for what happened the day before, he cried for bruises across his body he earned by living in this family, he cried for the food he’d dreamt of but could not allow himself to eat, he cried for all this act he had to put up to pretend not to care and he cried for all that he hasn’t cried in years. The jar was so full it threatened to explode, this was the outlet that allowed the content of it to spill and create some air and space, allowing the time bomb to reset its timer. But the only thing he shared, the only words spilling from his mouth for over an hour was repeated “I’m so sorry.”s and what happened, bit by bit, only interrupted by Osamu telling him it was going to be okay and shushing his tears away. He told him everything that had happened. He told him what it had felt like. He told him how she had made him feel guilty for not pursuing the act. He told him how, when she saw him cry, she just laughed and licked his tears. He told him everything. It’s only after a good moment of just crying from both sides that Osumu decided to finally talk again.

“We’ll find a solution. Together, as always.”

And for now, maybe that's all he had needed : to be together with his twin. He felt so exhausted after everything that he just climbed back into bed, a pounding headache hiding behind his eyes, and was soon followed by Osamu who absolutely refused to leave him alone right now. He would never admit it aloud but this soothed something in his heart, a doubt he had about the bond they had that was starting to strain and that they started drifting apart. So even if for one night, one day or one week he had the chance to pretend that nothing ever changed between them, he would take it.

The next day, he woke up with two onigiris on his night table, a glass of water with pain killer next to it and a note saying that if he did not felt up to eating those, his twin would make some again tonight and every meal from now on until he felt up to it. For the enth time in the past days he teared up again, mouth full of rice that had been specifically cooked for him.

Maybe that had been the moment where his brother had turned away from volley to cooking.
Maybe that was the moment where it all started.
Maybe it had been the premise of what would happen in a few years.
Or maybe he was doomed to be this way, always a little bit broken and trying to present a fake mirror to reflect perfection while he cracked a little bit more every time behind it, barely holding on before he shattered to the point of no going back.

Chapter Text

Atsumu craved attention. He did not crave it like some would say was ‘self centered’ but in a more animalistic way. He craved attention because he wanted people to notice him and how he felt. He wanted people to see behind the shiny glass he exposed the broken pieces that were his life. Atsumu was a very physical person. He always tried to have some kind of physical contact with others. He craved it and his way to get it was to attract people.

The announcement that Osamu was leaving volleyball had been difficult to accept. He had distanced himself again from him, finding comfort in training and looking for professional teams that were recruiting. The one he found was not too far from Osamu and yet far enough that he could never come home every weekend. It was just the right distance away that his parents would allow him to go.

That’s why, during the time where everyone studied for the exams, he asked them if he could take the train to Osaka to pass the selection. They did not protest that much, too happy to have some calm for that day. To be honest, they seemed quite relieved that he was leaving the house next year, not really caring for what he would do with his life. His dad never approved of him going into sport, he wanted him to go study finance, engineering or even law. He tried not to let it show how, the fact that only his twin bothered to ask him why he was going to Osaka and that only he cared if he succeeded, impacted him. He told himself it was okay because he had him by his side. Yet he could not shake the hollow pit in his stomach and the jealousy eating at him when his twin received praises for his grades and encouragement for his life plans. For all he knew he could die tomorrow and the only one that would be sad was Osamu, maybe Suna by extension.

His brother even chose to come with him as a support. He tried to dissuade him from it, but once the grey haired boy had something in mind, you could never change it. He had just a moment of hesitation because Suna had been requested to pass the test for EJP Raijin the next day at Nagano and he had wanted to accompany him. He didn’t know if he had loved Suna at this moment or hated himself when he finally chose to join his twin after a talk with his boyfriend, maybe both.

That’s how he found himself gripping Osamu’s hand on their way back from Osaka, leg bouncing on the floor to refrain from biting his nails. He could not damage his fingers, these were his working tools. He knew he had been selected, they asked for his presence and the coach seemed to be more than happy with his skills but he just couldn’t stop himself from stressing over it. His grip tightened when their next stop got announced. The moment where he would have to confront his parents growing closer after each stop, the disappointment from his father that he never did more with his life than sport and the disinterest of his mother to his life choices and activities.

Even though he usually pretended he was above all of it, he couldn’t deny the pang in his heart every time he saw them complimenting his twin’s successes — or even Suna’s —, telling him could choose whatever he wanted to do in his life and that they would always support him, ruffling his hair or even helping him with whatever he needed. Osamu just had to ask for something while he had to beg, make himself so small that they would not notice him or lift mountains just to be able to get money to buy a train ticket to Osaka. He couldn’t help himself but find it all so unjust. And he hated himself for it, for being so jealous of his own twin, for thinking something as horrible as a small “What if he had been an only son ?” which most of the time devolved into a “Life would have been easier if only Osamu had been born that night.”. He hated himself for thinking that way, while his brother did not exactly shower him with love, he was there for him when he needed it - they still fought from time to time though. But maybe what he needed was to be showered in love just like Osamu did with Suna. He inhaled sharply.

“Do you think I’ll get it ?”

He needed to change his mind or he was going to go insane before they arrived home.

“What ? Of course, why ?

_ How can you be so sure ?”

He hated the uncertainty in his voice.

“Because it was obvious, you dounce face.

_ Huh ?! We have the same face.

_Definitely not after that receive you did with your face.”

He had indeed been struck by a ball in the face but only because he had not been paying attention to what was happening on the other side of the court. He had been so distracted by the heavy looks of the coach.

“I’m pretty sure it changed nothing to how I look, he poked him in the ribs — if being twins had any advantage it was knowing the weak spot of each other. What do you mean by ‘obvious’?

_Duh. Are you blind or something ? Stop poking me or I’ll poke your eyes out. The coach barely spared a glance to the other players and was solely focused on you. If he had the right to, I’m pretty sure he would have made you sign that contract on the spot.”

Ho yeah, he had felt those looks. He had relished on them but at the same time he had felt so uncomfortable. Chills ran through his body just thinking about it. He couldn’t shake the weird feeling he had left him with.

“Didn’t you find him… I don’t know. Weird ?

_Who ? The coach ?” He nodded. “Not really why ?

_ I don’t, it felt so weird. I had not been able to play at my best.

_ Maybe it was the stress ?”

And maybe it was.
That might be one of the first moments where he closed his eyes on the warnings screaming in his head.

—--------------

Joining the jackals had just been a question of time and soon enough he found himself carrying the few boxes of what he owned into the team’s building toward his apartment. The place was good enough to consider staying here for the time of his contract at least. Once he had set up everything — not that he had a lot to begin with except for his clothes and some photos —, he settled down and mentally prepared himself for the next day : the first practice day.

The first training has gone quite well if you asked him. He smiled, got to know all of his new players including the current tosser that was leaving at the end of the year. For the first few months he was not to be on the first line, just for the principle of introducing him slowly to the team and to the public. He understood and respected that, even though it hurt him a bit that he would not be able to play at a 100% when starting. He told himself it was okay and that he just had to prove his worth to the coach and his teammates.

The hardest thing with this new current of life might be the fact that he was the furthest away he had ever been with Osamu. Maybe that’s what he needed to be a bit more independent and yet he couldn’t help himself from calling every day for the first few weeks. His business was going well and the clients seemed genuinely like his onigiris — he had told him he would make a fortune out of those. Eating has become kind of a hassle when it was not cooked by Osamu and he often found himself playing with his food. He tried at a maximum to follow a meal plan, after all he was an athlete and he needed fuel to function properly.

During their phone call, he had tried to talk to him about it but it had never felt like the right time to do it. He knew that if he had told him, it would have just put more stress on him and he clearly didn’t need that at this time. He did not tell him anything about his fear of not being accepted among the other players — Inaziraki had left quite an imprint on his team experience — nor did he tell him how the lingering gaze of the coach which at first were rewarding became increasingly weird and insistent. He never told him about the warnings that screamed in his head — if he admitted them to his brother, he would have to admit it himself and he didn’t think he was quite ready for that —, no, he just told him how refreshing it was to play with different players that all had the same goal of greatness and listened to how Onigiri Miya’s was going. His twin had enough work and stress on his own, while moving in with Suna, to also worry about him.

By curiosity — not obsession obviously… — he had looked up where the “monster” generation had gone. When he looked up the different big names of his graduation year and checked their group chat they made after training camp, he found out that Sakusa went to college to at least get a degree but still played at college level and also that Ushijima, just as himself, chose to go pro straight after graduation. Some others chose to either quit or keep it as a hobby like Tendou Satorou or to pursue graduation or straight up going pro. If he was honest with himself he was at the same time relieved that Sakusa was not in his team because he was in studying but also disappointed that he did not directly go playing in the V League. He might have felt less alone. He loved his teammates but there was an age gap or an experience gap that was not easy to forget when talking to them.

But he didn’t really know why he felt sad at the idea that Sakusa will not be playing in the V League for at least two more years. Maybe it was the weird dynamic that they had during camp that he missed. Maybe it was playing with someone he knew that he missed. Maybe it was their banters that reminded him of Osamu in a way. He knew the black haired boy probably hated him but he couldn't help himself and be drawn by his cool and disdainful behaviour — there was really something wrong with him.

He remembered asking him why he was constantly wearing a surgical mask, not to mock him but to try and not overstep his boundaries, and it was his cousin, Motoya, who answered him. He did threaten him of killing him in his sleep if he even dared thinking about using this as a joke. He had instantly reassured him by explaining that he only wanted to not cross some forbidden lines with his future spiker - he had also been quite insistent on setting to the boy with an impossible shoulder twist — to which ‘Omi-Omi’ answered with raised eyebrows that almost looked like surprise but he dared not assume the boy’s feeling. That night, he spent hours just looking at what germaphobia was and how to act with someone who was suffering from it. Fortunately for him, he always carried a bottle of gel to clean his hand when soap was not available. The next day, bags deep under his eyes, he was careful not to put his hand on his face and to clean them after breaks and before and after breakfast. He always paid attention to his player’s needs, even if they might seem strange to most people. Making his players comfortable was the first step of creating confidence and a bond on the court.

After a few more weeks, he started getting more time on court and creating a real bond with his teammates. That was after an exhausting practice that the coach pulled him aside to present him with a new diet. At first, he did not really understand what the problem with his current diet was, he was healthy, his body was toned and he was building muscles he had not been able to before with his school schedule. He even considered himself not to be a big eater, always trying to finish his meals only to pack them for the next day.

“You’re young and new to the team, plus you’re from the monster generation. People are waiting for you and we might be able to attract more fans to the team. For that, you might need to tone your body a bit more. With you as a team representative in the magazine we might get a better audience.”

He was flattered, don’t get him wrong, but he was also so confused. Handling the team’s image was the job of the press manager and here he was discussing this with their trainer. His mind screamed at him that this was not normal and yet again, he ignored it and instead focused on the fact that for once, he might be preferred to other players on the team — as horrible as it sounded, he craved so much attention he relished in it —, and had been pulled aside by the person who personally trained them and who did, for him exclusively, a job he was not paid for.

He started controlling a bit more what he ate, eating Onigiris only when seeing Osamu, which was once or twice a month taking in account the fact that they both were really busy with work. He went more often for his morning jog and if he felt it was not enough then he ran faster. When he did not run faster, he just ran longer. The weather never stopped him and the only thing that made him miss his workout was when he got so sick he couldn’t even get up from his bed without the room spinning around him due to the fever that struck him. He had started to slowly get used to the new diet and lose the few pounds of fat that was still on his body. Away from Osamu’s ever watchful eyes and his parents constant critics, it finally felt like he was in control.

—--------------

The months passed and he had since then lost a few pounds. He knew he was driving some fans crazy with his latest photoshoot and he had also started an Instagram account for his volleyball career where he posted selfies and pictures of the team and their after work. He could see on his twitter all the mentions of him, comments from shy to unholy thoughts, from nice to pure hate. He sometimes spent hours scrolling through every post about himself without even realising it. He read everything they said, from bad to good, and tried to improve his behaviour for the next match, for the next post or the next interview. Some he ignored, not that he wanted to but what people asked was simply impossible for him to give. He was not his brother and even though he had once - more than once - tried to incarnate the character, it was just impossible for him to behave that way all the time.

His face being placated in almost every trending magazine as “the top 3 highschool players on the professional circuit”, “Top 10 of the most attractive professional athletes” or even on some fashion magazine earned him some asking outs. As the gentleman he was, he had rejected them as politely as possible, telling them the truth : he was not looking for a relationship. He could be mean but he didn’t see the interest in being mean to people who were simply liking his facial features. He might have done that in highschool but now his public image did not only represent him but also his team and he could not bear having the weighed of a scandal on his shoulders.

Though, sometimes, he allowed himself to have some one night stands here and there. After some afterworks where he had a drink too much or just because he wanted to feel someone else’s body against his. He avoided blonde girls at all cost and black haired men — he once called one of his partner another’s name, potentially Sakusa’s, and since then chose to avoid the black haired men with piercing gazes. He relished in the physical attention these people gave him, he never remembered their name — not that he asked for it — and never stayed in the morning if he slept at theirs.

He had bought some special foundation for the marks that were a bit too pronounced for the photoshoot or even for practice. His teammates knew about his whereabouts but he had rather not show it so obviously to everyone. Some things better stay personal and he would rather not attract too much attention to himself. If they asked him anything he would bloat about it but otherwise, he would rather not say anything.

After some time, the coach seemed to get a bit more ‘familiar’ with him. He told himself it was because he was excelling in what he did and that pleased his coach. He told himself it was a way to show him he was on the right track. He told himself it was absolutely normal if he was a bit touchy, he was touchy with most of the team, even if sometimes hands would wander a bit lower than what would be considered normal. He told himself it was to calm his nerves when the calloused hand of the trainer laid a bit longer than usual on his thigh when they had a break on the bench. He told himself that the tight grip after one of his extracurricular nightly activities where he might have not hidden some of the marks was absolutely normal.

Doubts were gnawing at his mind, telling him that the bruise he had on his shoulder left by his hand was not supposed to be normal. He once went to Meian, asking him if he had noticed anything with their coach being a bit too touchy.

“Not really why ? It’s true that he could be a bit physical compared to some of the other coaches you might have had in the past. Now that there isn't the barrier of teacher to student so trainers tend to be a bit more familiar.

_ Hmm, he took some seconds to think about what he was going to say, I don’t know, I'm not really comfortable with physical touch …”

Meian raised an eyebrow, they all knew at this point that Atsumu loved physical contact. He was always going for a half hug or laid on their back whenever he had the chance to. What went unsaid was that he was not comfortable with the way their coach was being physical with him.

“You should talk to him about that.”

He should. Breathe in. Breathe out. His shoulder slumped. Maybe he was imagining things.

“Yeah I should.”

He picked up his bag and opened the door to go home. But before closing it, his captain called him again.

“Hey, Miya ! If you need to talk about anything, you know you can come to us right ?”

It warmed his heart to know they were here for him. Well, they thought they were, that would change if they knew how panaroid he was being. Yeah, he was definitely being paranoid. No one ever complained about their coach being too physical, he was probably being too sensitive about it, as usual. So he just smiled before leaving.

“Yeah. Thank you Meian.”

—--------------

He never gathered the courage to talk about it with the coach. Soon matches were won and lost and as he got used to the physical touches — it had a consistency that was at the same time resting and troubling for the mind for he was sure it was going to happen but it was also unasked for.

Before he knew it, a year had passed, some contracts ended and some others were made, including the famous ace Bokuto Kōtarō. The man was a breath of fresh air to Atsumu. He finally had someone he knew from the monster generation to play with and he was quite enjoying it to be honest. Also, to his greatest pleasure, Bokuto was a very physical person and offered hugs to everyone and almost all the time. He had been prepared to stiffen every time — like the hand resting right now on his shoulder causing him his chronic back pain from tension — but to his surprise he was melting in the spiker embrace.

Soon he was hanging out a bit more with the team and sometimes even at Bokuto’s and Akaashi’s flat. He was starting to get comfortable and feeling like he had finally found some people he could even call friends. He had learned from the former setter how to handle the spiker’s breakdown and what type of toss was best suited in each situation.

But as much as he had gotten comfortable with the new players, he was still tense around his coach. The latter had started getting a bit more insistent with his touch, a hand lingering on his hips, pressing his thigh a bit firmer or even appearing behind him, his hot breath hitting his skin as he whirled around only to find him smiling to him, saying praises about his tosses. It confused his brain which was sending alarms at the closeness but also sending him a warm feeling at the compliments. So he just ignored it as well as all his problems, closing yet again his eyes on the problem.

—--------------

He kept talking once a week with Osamu on the phone. His absence was still paining him though a little bit less now than before. He didn't think he could ever not miss his twin in his life. But it became more bearable with time. As would say the proverb : time heals all wounds — he would laugh at that in a few years. He missed both of them, Suna and Osamu, but he arranged his rest days to go and visit them once or twice a month or when he was around for a match — mostly against Suna, he enjoyed those visits so much. Playing against him was at the same time different but similar to the time they had at Inaziraki, sending him waves of nostalgia each time they faced each other. They bantered on each side of the net, teasing themselves without real bite… Well it depended at what point they were in the match.

He tried talking about what was happening one day with Osamu and Suna during one of their usual phone calls. Even though he felt like he overthought it like he tended to overthink everything, His twin has always been able to tell him whether he should trust his guts or not.

“Hey Samu ?

_ Hmm ?, he heard some noise in the background — probably Suna and him cleaning the kitchen of the restaurant —, you’re on speaker by the way. Suna’s here.

_ Ho- That’s good actually. Hey Suna !

_Yo shit face !”

He would usually send back an insult about his looks or his language but he did not feel like doing that today. He chewed on his sweat’s laces, weighing his next words. The line went silent, both of them stopping their activity, probably sensing his hesitation.

“Tsumu ?

_Yeah ?

_What’s wrong ?

_ I- It’s just- Well It’s probably nothing….

_ Well even if it’s nothing you know I’ve always listened to you talking shit.

_ Yeah but- Is Suna listening ?”

He heard some footsteps and some other noise he guessed as the phone being passed to the other man.

_ I’m right here, why ?

_ Well, what I might ask might sound weird to you.”

He played with his toes, phone blocked between his shoulder and his ear while his knees were hidden under his sweat against his torso. He knew he was avoiding the subject but he just couldn’t bring himself to talk about his doubts. What if they thought he was going nuts ? What if they just laughed at him ? What if they chose he was too much of a burden or didn’t want to deal with his shit today and just hung up ?

“You always sound weird.”

He huffed before taking a breath.

“I- Do you find the coach of your team more familiar with you now than the one we had in highschool ?

_ Do I what ? In what way ?

_ I don’t know, he growled in frustration with his wording. Like, there was a kind of barrier before in highschool, no ?

_ Man, I don’t know. I mean, yes, they are more familiar because we’re adults talking to adults but you’ll have to be more specific.

_ Just- promise you won’t judge right ?

_ You know I never judge you… well apart from your piss yellow hair.”

In fact, he didn’t know that, it always felt like Suna was judging his very same existence.

“My hair are fine… he mumbled under his breath. I put conditioner on them now.

_ Yeah I noticed during our last match. So, what’s this all about ?

_ You promise not to judge ?”

He felt like a kid making his parents promise not to tell anyone that they took candies from the basket.

“Of course dumbass.”

He took some time to collect himself and try not going into overdrive.

“Is your coach being kinda huggy ?

_ Huggy ?

_Yeah, like physical and all that stuff ?”

He heard the phone being urgently grabbed and dropped on the floor before his twin picked it up again.

“Did that bastard do something ?!

_What- No !, at least no yet went unsaid, Just, he’s kinda touchy with everyone just, I- I wanted to know if it was like, common you know ?

_ I mean, yeah, you could say he’s a bit more touchy but it has never been a problem on our team. Maybe if you don’t feel at ease try and talk about it with him ?”

He twisted one lace and chewed another one to prevent himself from biting his nails. Suna recommended him the same thing that Meian did. Maybe he should really try and gather up the courage to talk to the coach about it. But what if he was making things up ? What if he imagined things in his head ?

“Anyway, it was Osamu again, if you talk to him and nothing changes or if anything happens, you talk to me ok ?

_Yeah. Thanx, I’ll do that… He took a breath, collecting himself and faking a smile at his empty room, before changing the subject of the discussion. Anyways guys, how’s it been with work ?”

And just like that the subject was closed. He learned that they were in fact not cleaning the kitchen previously but preparing papers and plans to open a branch in Osaka, closer to him. The business was flourishing and Osamu felt like it would be easier for Atsumu to be able to taste his favorite twin’s onigiri when it was not 2 hours away by train.

—--------------

The team was climbing the ranks as the months passed and they won most of their matches — Kageyama was a thorn in his side, he was just that good. The more they won, the more praises he received for his tosses and services. On the other side he was juggling between one night stands, movie nights with Bokuto and Akaashi and training under the watchful eyes of the coach. He had finally been able to bond with everyone on the team : two years passed at their side and living in the same building had been fruitful to the links between the players and it showed in his games. He had learned to recognise the signs of fatigue in a player or their annoyance at something. He has also mastered the “Bokuto’s crisis plan” that Akaashi had told him about and most of the time their matches were won without an incident. When he was on the court, he was in full control of his players and the game.

Some time passed, the diet he had been on seemed to work wonders if the offers for fashion magazines were telling anything and the player’s charts where he seemed to never rank below 10. He was easily top three of the most asked players in volleyball to pose for magazines and in terms of liking from the fans. Thomas whistled during their personal photoshoot when he had to lift up his shirt, making him blush which, unfortunately, made it in the picture, which made it to the final pick.

Soon it was time for their yearly check up with the coach. It was a week where each day, one or two of the athletes were called to give feedback to him so that he could improve his methods.

“Miya, it’s your turn.”

He rose on his feet to follow Foster to the meeting room of the gymnasium. His stomach churned when remembering the advice Suna and Median had given him. Maybe it would be a perfect time to talk about the contact problem with him. After all, if he wanted to feel at ease, he would need to talk about it someday as an adult taking his responsibilities.

He yawned as the fatigue from yesterday nightly activities — which were definitely not a great idea before training — made him pay for sleeping so late. He did not have the time to cover up the purplish bruise on his neck which had caused him some teasing in the locker room with the others. Not that he really minded it but if he was being honest with himself, he had completely forgotten that the meeting was today and he would have taken the time to cover it up if only he had remembered.

Forster showed him to a chair at one end of the round table while he took another and dragged it in front of him, depositing his papers and his notebook on the table next to him, before sitting. He crossed his legs, looking expectantly at him.

“Well ? How has it been going for you Miya ?

_ As good as last year I think ? Maybe even better. I seem to have adjusted to every player perfectly and bonded with every teammate at one point.

_ I noted that as well. You’ve also improved your ace percentage compared to last year on your services and seem to be able to toss to everyone perfectly.”

He saw the eyes of the coach tracing his every move until they stopped on his neck. He squirmed on his chair while hiding the bruise with his hand by scratching the back of his neck. His skin prickled with unease as the lips from Foster pinched into a thin line.

“Also, as expected we had a wave of new supporters with your photoshoot. It took some time to notice but the results are here.”

He knew that, he almost couldn’t wander without a cap in a big town nowadays.

“And you indeed seem to get along with everyone, especially with Bokuto. You still have a year on your contract and I wanted to know your feedback on everything. If there’s anything that you think should change, don't hesitate to mention it.”

The smile he gave him seemed so sincere that the words that were about to stumble from his mouth stopped before a sound could be made.

“I-, he found himself fumbling with words. To be honest, everything seems to go really smoothly. The training is as good as always and the strategies seem to work wonderfully with everyone. Though I might add it would be nice to let everyone express themselves more about different strategies to test. We could find something that could be an advantage against the teams that are expecting the usual strats.”

Foster nodded and hummed while taking notes. The scratching sound was soothing his troubled mind while his leg bounced up and down nervously on the ground.

“Was there anything you might want to add ?

_ I- actually yes, this caught his coach's attention, a waver audible in his voice. I- It might sound a bit extravagant but if I had to be honest, I'm not quite comfortable with physical touch…”

A single raised eyebrow showed him that the coach did not buy his total bullshit, just like Meian. They both knew that he was almost addicted to physical contact. His heartbeat started bumping in his chest, hands sweating and mouth drying. He licked his lips to try and humidify his mouth to no avail.

“Physical touch?”

He articulated each syllable, showing him that he indeed did not believe him. He took a deep breath to prepare himself from the embarrassment.

“I don't feel comfortable with how close you might sometimes be. It doesn’t feel right and it puts me on edge before matches.

_ Ho- I’m sorry if I seemed a bit too familiar. Though if you could be more specific, it could help me not repeat the contact that made you uneasy ?”

A pin dropped.

“I’m- what ?”

The two stared at each other, one in disbelief and the other in challenge. The silence stretched and he felt his hands getting more and more sweaty. He tried to wipe them on his jeans but to no avail, the friction being the only sound in the tense atmosphere. They both perfectly knew what he was talking about. He knew that Foster was asking him this on purpose, his body tilting slightly toward him, looking expectantly at him. He felt suddenly claustrophobic, the impression of being trapped in a thin box as his breath caught in his chest as the man in front of him moisturised his lips, eyes seeming to see through his very soul.

“Well ! The coach put a hand on his knee as the hungry expression vanished from his face and the silence that had settled broke. That was maybe not the right thing to ask. I’ll try to be more careful in the future for you and the team ! Thank you for telling me.”

His firm grip on his knee stayed a few more seconds, even tightening a little bit when his eyes laid on his bruise again, before he rose up and gathered his paper. Not quite understanding what had exactly happened, he just stayed there while Foster walked to the door. Was the problem solved ? Just like that ? And what was that last question about ? His pulse started beating faster as a feeling he had not encountered in a long time rose inside of him. Confusion and anger battled for the front of his mind as his breath quickened and tremors of something else made his hand start to shake. He knew that the coach perfectly knew what type of physical touch he was talking about… And yet what if he really didn’t know ? What if he had misinterpreted everything ? He turned his head to try and guess what the other might have been thinking only to find him already watching him. A shiver ran down his spine as he stood up to follow the other man holding the door out.

“Have a good evening Miya. Oh ! And, here is your new diet from now on, make sure to follow it.”

He handed him a folder which he grabbed, not really registering what was happening.

“Yeah you too.” He just said, absentmindedly, not really sure what he had agreed to.

It had been the last meeting of the day and by the time he made it back in a daze to his apartment it was already nighttime and he felt more exhausted than he had in a very long time.

But even with the exhaustion, sleep did not come easily that night. When it came, it was troubled with memories years old, hands travelling on his body only to wake up drenched in sweat and with heavy breaths.

The next day, he pleaded a migraine and stayed wrapped up in his covers, playing some documentaries on his phone with the curtains closed, trying to forget about everything that had happened in his life. That day, he alternated between sleep, dissociation and panic attacks.

He went back to training the following day, as if nothing had ever happened, a smile on his lips and shiny hair, golden in the sun, and played as good as always. As long as he played well, everything would be alright. Surprisingly, after their confusing “discussion”, Foster had seemed to calm down a bit on the physical touch… and also on the praises. He smiled through the day. He did not show how much he missed the small comments on his tosses and his game.

—--------------

When Osamu called the next time, asking him if he had brought up the subject with his coach, he seemed pleased with the fact that the situation had seemed to de-escalate. “I won’t have to come to Osaka and kill him then.” he had said as a joke, though Atsumu was not quite sure about the joke part.

“Anyway, as that problem is solved. Are you eating enough ?”

It had been a current check up he did at every call, that one time in highschool had really scared him.

“Yeah… He changed my diet again.”

He huffed, looking at the list of meals allowed or not and in what quantity, a frown on his face.

“But- he’s supposed to feed you like a famished animal, not turn you into a chopstick ?

_ I know that ! The frustration resurfaced in his voice. But it’s ‘for the team’s good media representation’.”

He quoted with his hands. He had to admit it, the pang of hunger left after his ‘meal’ was not supposed to happen. Small eater or not, after his ‘phase’, he had paid careful attention to eat to his full, which had never been much to begin with. He had been forced to compensate with whey recently to keep building muscle. The quantity on the paper was quite alarming and he clearly didn’t think that Foster thought this through. Maybe the man had made a mistake and forgot a 0 ?

“Fuck team’s media representation ! You’re a fucking athlete for fuck sake !

_ I knowwww !”

He was complaining to the paper as if it would change in front of his eyes, the grumbling sound of his stomach accompanying him. He had done this once, he could handle a little hunger. For how long ? Phone in hand, he went to get himself a glass of water to try and make the pit in his stomach feel a little less empty.

“Fuck the diet ‘Tsumu, eat as much as you want ! You know what, I'm coming this weekend.

_ But, the business ?

_ Suna can handle a day or two and the employees can handle themselves for a weekend. At least I’ll be able to see what happens if I leave them alone.”

He bit his lips, trying hard not to argue with him, knowing very well it would lead nowhere. If the Miya’s twins were known for something, it was their stubbornness. He just released a breath, agreeing with him before changing the subject of the discussion to something lighter, eating the words instead of food. Maybe the diet was a bit too hard this time.

—--------------

Soon a year had passed and, against the small voice in his head telling him to leave as soon as he could, he signed for another 3 years. He knew by then he was being too paranoid about everything. His tendency to overthink everything had skyrocketed without his twin to calm him down : he knew better than to trust his guts.

He trained harder, staying after everyone left to keep practicing, pushing himself harder than ever. He had not been able to follow the new strict diet plan of Foster, quitting after only a week when his head started spinning too much, so he had to compensate somewhere. And that somewhere had been in training. He ran longer and faster than before, going more frequently to the gym to build muscles. He felt better than ever and in more control than he had ever been in his life.

He had introduced the team to his brother’s onigiris, earning himself a forced after-work every Wednesday at Onigiri Miya in Osaka. Bokuto even told him it had become one of his and Akaashi’s favorite places to go. Of course, he paid the same price as everyone, his twin not wanting to make favouritism in front of the clients and also to piss him off.

Honestly, his team was doing really great. The photoshoots paid well enough that he could put some aside to have a comfortable amount of money if — when, they all stopped one day — he had to quit and find himself a place to stay. Everyone seemed to be thriving even though they still had their fair amount of losses. Indeed some members of the monster generation got into the professional circuit including Kageyama Tobio who had joined a little bit over a year ago. That man was not just good but also talented and gifted at what he did. Though he had yet to see the orange haired energy ball play. He apparently was training in Brazil to improve his play for a year or two. He had not forgotten his promise to toss him the perfect ball. Having both their number from the group chat of the youth trading camp — Hinata had been invited the next year after Kageyama — he often saw the pictures of him from different beaches and his tan showing : Brazil did look amazing in those pictures.

And then came the selections. He had been asked by the coach to come and play with the few selected to see who would fit or not with the team dynamics. And to say he was surprised to see, when entering the lockers, a curly black haired man with deep dark eyes looking down on the too energetic orange haired man would be an understatement. He wondered for a minute if he had missed the information on the group chat of them joining the V league this year even though he checked almost every day in the hope of having any chances of playing with at least one of them.

His signature foxy smile crept up his face when he realised that they might finally be able to beat the Ushiwaka and Kageyama duo this year. He was also infinitely thankful to the universe that he always carries a bottle of disinfectant with him since the training camp.

“ATSUMU !”

“Why are you smiling like that, you creep ?”

Two completely and apparently unmatching energies that he wanted above all to play with. He felt the lingering gaze of Sakusa when he started stripping down to change in his equipment.

“Admiring the view Omi-Omi ?”

“Don't call me that. He mumbled under his breath before looking away, not even a blush on his perfect looking cheeks — damn he had a fucking incredibly smooth skin. You look like a fucking ripped toothpick.”

_ Common’ everyone loves my looks.”

Sakusa just raised an eyebrow before pinching his lips and leaving the locker room for the gym. He tried not to feel hurt by this, knowing it was just how Sakusa was. Be it he was unnerved or shy he had the exact same expression… well, there was some details that changed, like the muscle of his jaw locking into place as if he tried not to punch the person in front of him when he was getting tense.

“You do look lean, Atsumu ! Even the girls in Brazil were asking me if I knew you !

_ Thank you, Hinata ! Omi just doesn't know how to appreciate a good view.”

He stuck his tongue out at the door before putting on his shirt.They laughed and talked a bit more about what happened during the last years. They talked about Brazil, about their love life — which was absent for the setter —, and he learned that the orange haired man had in fact been in a long distance relationship with the setter from the Addlers. Soon they were joining everyone for the selections, still talking about their experiences.

Atsumu was thriving, enjoying every toss he made to the two spikers. The shrimp was even faster and jumped even higher than before. It took him two to three tosses to adjust to the new height and speed and soon they were reproducing the famous fast from highschool. With the black haired man ont the other side, everything felt so perfect. He was hypnotized by the way his shoulder distorted to hit the ball at an impossible angle and speed. He was fascinated with the flexibility and the precision he used in every strike and receptions. He enjoyed the speed and strength in his service, seeing the ball hit the perfect spot almost every time. He tossed him again — the ball was slightly off due to an unfortunate reception — and saw his shoulder twisting before the ball was hit where no one would be able to get it, avoiding the block at the same occasion.

“Man, even after three years, it still weirds me the fuck out.”

It felt so good to toss again for familiar players. He knew, even before they were done with the selections, that these two were going to be part of the selected spikers. Not that the other players were not good, those two were just a big part of the monster generation. Even when he was not paying attention, he couldn’t help but looking at them. Even when sitting on the bench, leaving his place to a setter, gulping down water, his eyes never left those two — especially the one with black thick curls.

He suddenly tensed as an arm slung over his shoulders, the hand laying over his pectoral. The humid and mint scented breath of Foster right next to his face made him aware of the other’s presence. He had forgotten for an instant where he was, thinking back to the youth training camp.

“What do you think about those two ?”

He swallowed the last of his water, eyes fixed on the players and trying desperately not to glance aside.

“Sakusa and Hinata ?

_ Yeah. You seem to get quite along with them.”

The hand on his chest moved to point at the two players on the court before laying on his shoulder to replace his arm.

“Oh, yeah. We went to the youth training camp together and they were already amazing players even if Hinata had started only a year before that. I do think they would fit in the team perfectly and at the same time bring some energy and a diversity we might lack in our game.

_Hmm.”

He saw him circle their name before he tapped him on the shoulder to get back and play with them.

—--------------

The evening where the two new players were welcomed had started slowly at the bar. The welcome drink was an initiation rite to the team that everyone had gone through. So they all went, Sakusa with his classical mask over his face — if the team had not prod and probed it might have been because he had warned them before and Hinata already knew about it —, Hinata jumping around and the coach close behind the team next to Meian. He was guiding everyone to their usual place, a good but not too expensive bar that had good music and was tolerant and open minded : they had international players and they were sometimes not the most welcomed clients in bars. The black haired spiker had agreed begrudgingly to come if he was not forced to stay too late to which they had all immediately agreed to.

“Ok boys ! I’ll pay my round !”

They cheered as the commands were taken and Foster paid for all their drinks. Hinata taking a Sex on the Beach was so cliché he was left speechless and Sakusa was just like he had imagined him, with a whiskey scotch. He stuck with the classical beer, as blond as him and as bitter as his snark.

They talked for some time, the team getting acquainted with the new players. They each started recounting stories about their time in other teams or at training camp, Hinata speaking in great details of his time with beach volley and he learned that Sakusa had studied to get a Bachelor in law to have a back up plan in case he could not join the teams he wanted. Meian talked about his wife and her pregnancy being all over the place, having to do errands at 3 in the morning to get her pickles or a specific taste in ice cream. After about forty minutes, almost all the drinks were already downed.

With his famous tolerance for alcohol, he was not surprised to be already quite tipsy after finishing his beer. He rose up to his feet to buy himself another one, flirting a bit with the barman — he had a one night stand with him that was quite memorable if he was being honest.

“You free tonight pretty boy ?

_ No, not t’night, sorry. He winked at him. But maybe another night, who knows.”

He grabbed his drink before turning back to join the team, his eyes locking on the surprised — or maybe inquisitive he was not really sure at this hour — look of Sakusa. He just smiled, quite proud of himself if you asked him, and sat at his place. He was about to join back the conversation when the black haired spiker turned to him and interrupted everyone.

“You’re fucking him ?”

If he had been drinking, he would have probably choked on the drink but he just stared at him instead, not quite sure what to say. He didn't know to laugh or to cry. Sakusa had yet to ask a question and the first thing he wanted to know was if he was fucking the god damn barman. Maybe the alcohol influenced his reaction for soon enough he was laughing wholeheartedly, tears in his eyes. And he should have stopped when the other's face contorted before mumbling something as he picked up his glass. Everyone on the table had stopped what they were doing to just stare at the two of them, an amused sparkle in the eyes of those who already knew, some unsurprised glances and some eager for the answer ; he was going to ignore his coach’s darkening eyes as he brought up his drink to his lips.

“Oh my god, Omi-Omi ! We’ve been here for so long and that's the first thing you want to ask ?”

His left eye twitches.

“Maybe I should have choked you in your sleep at the training camp.

_ Wow, you’re not one to beat around the bush, are you ? I mean, to each their kink, though I could have sworn you were more into leather and collar type of kink. But I don't judge, I’m up for everything.”

He didn’t miss the reddening of the spiker’s cheek, though it might be because of the whisky.

“Just answer the damn question or I’m leaving, you dunce face.

_ Yeah, yeah. Of course I've fucked him, he winked at him and saw some of the team either enjoying the show or trying to cover their laughs. I mean, I've fucked him, or he fucked me more precisely, only once and it was magical, he put the emphasis on magical, but it might happen again. After all, I'm known for duplicating miracles.”

His snarky smile crept up his face as he shot a pointed look at Hinata, referring to the short, who couldn’t stop laughing. Sakusa, who was drinking just a few seconds ago, coughed brutally. He went to pat his back but retracted his hand at the last moment, remembering how they were not in a clean place and that his hand had been everywhere but near a bottle of disinfectant.

“Need help digest the answer here, Omi ? I know it can be hard for some people to realise others are fucking when they’re not.”

Concern was laced with amusement in his voice and the only answer he got was a hand raised in front of his face to stop him getting closer.

“Fuck you, Miya.

_ Don’t you want to go on a date first ?”

This earned him a mortified look from the team and a deadly stare from the black haired man next to him.

“I mean, we could skip the date but I definitely need to replenish my lube stock. The barman used the last drop of it.

_Oh my- why don’t you shut up ?”

Some of the team players were now barely holding back their laughter, Hinata had gone redder than a tomato, some were contemplating their drink while trying to be part of the background and Foster just rose to leave the room. He didn't know what to read in the eyes of Sakusa but whatever it was, it definitely was not amusement.

“Common’ Miya, don't traumatize the poor boy on his first day, we still need him on the team.

_ Pff, he huffed, leaning back in his seat, you’re all no fun.

_ I tell you about our first date night with akaashi ?

_ NO ! They all said unanimously

_ HO YEAH !”

They all looked at Hinata in despair as Boluto started telling the story for the enth time from the beginning.

—--------------

He didn’t know what type of beer they served him this time, but it hit him like a brick - later he’ll remember telling himself that beer should not foam this much when he had it in front of him. Foster had been the one paying for this round too, saying that as a coach he should welcome as best as he could the new players.

“Miya ?”

He slowly turned his head… or was it the world that was spinning around him ? He didn’t really know.

“Man, he’s wasted.”

He didn't know who or what talked really, everything was so confusing. He swallowed the nausea and closed his eyes, hiding them from the blinding lights. He heard them talk but could not make the words make sense in his foggy brain.

“-home.

_ I’ll get him safely back. The night is still long, enjoy it guys.”

He felt himself being dragged up on his feet and his stomach did a flip as he tried to understand what was happening. He felt his feet marching forward as the arm circling firmly his torso made him move.

“Wheh’ we goin’ ?”

His voice was laced with alcohol and something that made him so damn groggy. Even in his state he knew that he was not supposed to be this wasted after only 3 beers.

“I’m bringing you home safely.”

He turned his head, room still spinning, to the voice, slowly registering the face to be his coach’s. He frowned a little, a feeling he could not name making his skin shiver and a lump in his throat.

“Cou’nd’t Bok’to bring meh home?”

Foster sighs before answering him — whispering to him ? Screaming at him? —, breath hitting his ear.

“I would not have dared ruin his evening or anyone’s so I volunteered to bring you home.”

He bit down his lip guiltily. Everything around him was so blurry and the nagging feeling that something was wrong was not leaving, it was even growing. He tried to shrug off the hand around his tone — to not say thin — waist but was too weak to even stand on his own. The hand just stayed at the same place, as if what he had done was just moving a bit of tissue under it… which might have actually been the case, he didn't know anymore.

“But-”

He looked behind him, twisting towards their table and was surprised to see it was already quite far from them — were they walking fast or was he really out of it ? His eyes crossed pleadingly Sakusa’s who frowned at him, bending his head slightly on the side. He saw him make a move to stand up, hope growing in his chest, but suddenly he felt the cold breeze of the night hitting face and the door closed in front of him. Everything was so blurry around him, the lights of the street burning his retina. The nausea that never stopped rising mixed with the assault of sensation, be it the lights, the sounds, the temperature change, the walking and the spinning of the world around him made his stomach flip again more violently this time. He turned to the side, throwing up his stomach content. He didn’t understand what was happening around him. The sound of the street seeming so drowned, as if under water. The hand still holding him started to drag him again. He put his foot on the concrete, amazed at the texture it had.

Soon, he saw his coach’s car in the parking lot.

He was seated in a leather seat and a door on his side was closed, the song ringing in his mind.

Lights passed by.

God he felt like shit.

He climbed stairs… or was he in an elevator ? It was going up.

The softness of his mattress never felt so good as he was laid delicately on it.

And the room was spinning.

Spinning.

Spinning.

A face appeared above him.

Foster's.

Hands travelled the line of his bare torso…

Bare ?

He tried to move but was frozen on the sheets.

He could hear his heartbeat bursting through his ears.

He was so hot.

Yet he felt so cold.

He felt the burning hands on his thighs.

He felt the lick of a tongue on his stomach.

He didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t know what was happening.

He felt so drowsy.

His breath was cut short as wet lips kissed him.

He felt his hand touching a chest, tried to push it away… unsuccessfully.

He was floating.

He felt the touches.

But he was somewhere else.

And he felt pain shooting through his back.

And he felt the pleasure rising.

And he felt the cold dry air on his body.

And he felt the back and forth movement of his body against the drenched sheets.

And he felt himself losing, more or less willingly, his fight for consciousness.

His eyes closed.

And everything disappeared.