Chapter Text
The cherry blossoms were in full bloom. If Miya Atsumu were to be honest, it was what gave him courage to confess.
A blossom drifted down from the trees to flutter against Kita Shinsuke’s hair harmlessly, and Atsumu couldn’t look away from this man he was in love with.
“I like you, too, Miya,” his captain said, and the world suddenly seemed brighter. Atsumu was awash with the thrill he only usually felt after pulling off a setter dump.
Smiling, he told Kita, “I told you, you should call me by my first name.”
“Okay,” Kita agreed. “I like you, too, Osamu.”
Atsumu jerked awake, gasping.
He hasn’t dreamed about Kita for so long. Months. Maybe even years.
Not to say he didn’t plague his thoughts every now and then but after four years, Atsumu liked to believe he’s gotten better.
It was 3:30 a.m. Witching hour. It figured.
Volleyball practice starts at 6 a.m., but he knew sleep was going to be impossible. So he dragged himself out of bed and decided to go on a morning run. He’ll figure out how to kill time later.
He hit the pavement by 4 a.m., and thought about his plans for the day, trying valiantly to avoid thinking about his dream.
The MSBY Black Jackals’ practice will take up the whole morning, and then they’ll be dismissed by lunch. After that it’s free time. He wondered what he’d do. Maybe begin a new Netflix series. He’d just finished “The Haunting of Hill House” the previous night, which might explain the nightmare and waking up at frickin’ 3:30 a.m.
That crap was some family drama disguised as a horror series. There were moments Atsumu actually screamed watching the show, but it made him choke up more than anything else.
He decided to face it. His feelings of unrest were because the show featured twins of all things.
He has not spoken to or seen Osamu for four years.
Throat tightening, he picked up his pace and ran, and ran, and ran.
--
His serve landed out of bounds. Groaning, he smacked a palm against his face.
After his run and shower, he had half-heartedly played his kalimba for another half hour, then browsed through social media until he had to head to the gym. Nothing managed to shake off his funk.
Determined to exhaust the weird feelings out of him, he practiced his hybrid serve until their coach Samson Foster blew the whistle and gathered them around to tell them some of his observations.
“Miya.” Atsumu twitched at the name. “Half your serves were out of bounds. Try to achieve a 60 percent success rate by next Monday.” He had the weekend to shape up.
“Yes coach,” he said dejectedly.
When they were finally dismissed and back in the locker rooms, Bokuto Koutarou approached him. “Hey, hey, hey Tsum-Tsum! You alright?”
Atsumu liked Bokuto. He’s simple in a way — what you see is what you get. There’s nothing ingenuine about him. He had signed with the Black Jackals last year, and he has generally been unproblematic.
Unlike Atsumu. He smiled at Bokuto and slapped a hand on his shoulder. “I’m perfect. I just finished ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ last night and it freaked me out. I woke up at like, 3 a.m., do you think it’s like, psychosomatic?”
Their newest recruit, Hinata Shouyou, bounced his way to them in excitement. “Oooh, I heard that was really good! Let’s watch it! It has Japanese subs, right?”
Atsumu’s eye twitched at the thought of going through that again. “Eh, Shouyou-kun, it won’t be fun if I have to watch it all over again.”
“But you liked it, didn’t you? Let’s make it a team bonding experience! Less chances of getting scared that way!” That was just stupid. “Besides today is the perfect time to watch it, since we have the weekend off.”
Atsumu had to consider it. The team didn’t really hang out, and he never went out of his way to spend time with them or get to know them better. Sure, he was friendly to them, but he was also kind of a jerk to them, and he knew he wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite person. His team back in middle school downright despised him. His high school team, well...he burned those bridges long ago.
But it was hard to resist Hinata’s bright brown eyes. They reminded him of someone else’s. He shoved that down. Why am I thinking of him again?
He agreed to go to the watch party, if only to stave off the inevitable mental spiral he’d suffer through when he goes back to his room alone.
“Are you coming, Sakusa-san? Please!” Hinata said, clapping his hands together and gazing up at the tall, black-haired man fixing his things in his locker.
And there’s another outlier. Out of the whole team, Sakusa Kiyoomi — also a relatively new recruit — was probably the most difficult to deal with. He was standoffish and finicky and sometimes had no sense of filter. He shied away from any kind of physical contact, and would refuse even Atsumu’s fist bump. He guessed the whole germ-aversion thing made him feel grossed out with everyone but it was just a fist bump!
The man in question gazed at Hinata with a scowl, then took a moment to consider it. To everyone’s surprise, he said, “Fine, but whoever’s room we’re staying in better be clean.”
Interest piqued, the rest of the team jumped in on the plan, including team captain Meian Shuugo, their libero Inunaki Shion, their middle blocker Adriah Thomas and their wing spiker Oliver Barnes.
Those four people Atsumu had known the longest. They were already in the team when Atsumu signed with the Jackals four years ago. But because of their age gap, he never quite formed strong bonds with them. He didn’t become friends with the old members of the team who had eventually left to play elsewhere either.
Plans settled, they took their showers and went out to lunch first, then stopped by the konbini for snacks and drinks. Atsumu had to admit he was getting curious. Their team was quite a mishmash of personalities, and while they play well together on the court, he didn’t know how well they’d mesh together out of it.
They had no problem squeezing into Meian’s room (“I swear it’s clean, I’m barely in there”), except for Sakusa, who claimed a comfy chair by the window, and Meian who settled on the other one. The rest piled on the bed and on blankets on the floor. The apartment rooms offered by the Black Jackals were roomy, but they were not meant to hold eight grown men at a time.
It took next to nothing for them to all get absorbed in the show. They got impatient at the gap in between episodes (“Hurry, press next, just press next!”), the need to know what happens next effectively seizing their attention as if they were watching a volleyball match.
Before he knew it, it was 8 p.m. and they were on the sixth episode, the one filmed in one long shot during a storm. It reminded him of another storm, from long ago. Atsumu could feel his throat tightening up again at the sheer misery, and struggle, and brokenness of it. It really was a good family drama. And it struck too close to home.
And then they all ended up screaming during the episode’s terrifying climax, even Atsumu, who had already seen it.
When they finished with the episode, he hit the pause button. “Jesus Christ,” he said, putting a hand over his pounding heart.
“Didn’t you already watch this?” Inunaki asked.
“I did, but shit’s still terrifying, alright!”
“I thought my soul was going to evacuate from my body,” Bokuto said cheerfully.
“I’m more sad about the family,” Hinata said. “And the twins. Hey, Atsumu-san, is your twin bond like that? It’s practically psychic!”
His body seized as the whole team swiveled their heads to look at him in curiosity.
Clearing away the blockage on his throat, Atsumu said, “Nah. Osamu,” his voice wavered and he hoped nobody heard it, “and I don’t really get along. On the court, sure. But that was before.”
Before Osamu quit volleyball, before they had a falling out, before Atsumu left Hyogo in a rage and never looked back. Before.
Hinata hummed. “Guess it’s different for every twin. Anyway, let’s play the next one!”
“Seriously? It’s late,” he said.
“It’s only 8 p.m.” Surprisingly, this was Sakusa, who had made himself comfortable on his chair, and was staring at Atsumu with an expression he didn’t think he liked. Like he was an insect to be examined under a microscope. “There are only four episodes left. It’s Friday.”
“I wanna know what’s next,” Thomas said. “We can’t possibly stop there.”
So they continued on.
And then they were in the scene Asumu was dreading.
The character Luke tells his twin sister Nell, “I don't know how to do this without you.”
“Forgiveness is warm,” Nell says. “Like a tear on a cheek. Think of that and of me when you stand in the rain. I loved you completely. And you loved me the same. That's all.”
That’s all?
Atsumu sneakily dabbed at the corner of his eyes when tears threatened to escape. Thankfully, he wasn’t full on sobbing anymore, like he was last night.
They finished the series at almost 1 a.m. Not too late, honestly, but Atsumu felt like he ran a marathon. Many of them were wiping at their faces.
“Man, that was good,” Barnes said.
“I’m going to go home later and hug my kids,” Meian said. Each member of the team got a unit, whether or not they chose to stay there every day. Those on the team who have families to get back to usually only stay over before matches, or if they have late night plans such as this.
“Same,” Barnes said.
They stretched and cleaned up as best as they could, before trooping out the door.
Atsumu started heading towards his own room. Just as he thought that wasn’t such a disaster and that his team members weren’t so bad, a voice behind him asked, “So, how’s Osamu these days?”
He whirled around to face the impenetrable face of Sakusa Kiyoomi.
“Handling his business as usual, I suppose. We haven’t spoken lately,” he said, trying to play it off as casual.
“Hmm.”
He turned and took off, picking up the pace. “Well, see ya.”
--
Later, in bed, he thought of Osamu. How was he these days?
After the success of his shop Onigiri Miya, which saw its beginnings in Hyogo, he is now expanding to Tokyo. The same city Atsumu is in. The announcement popped up on his social media feed a few days prior.
Osamu will be in Tokyo. He didn’t know when. Might be days or weeks or months. The uncertainty and anticipation and dread was like a bee was hovering around Atsumu, waiting for the moment to strike.
He doesn’t know how long he can keep holding his breath.
--
The thing is, Atsumu and Osamu were like that. Like Luke and Nell, somehow always connected, always aware.
For every fight, they’d share a victory. For every disagreement, they’d celebrate a triumph. For years, they’d be in each other’s throats, but they’d always have each other’s backs. Always. No matter what.
Until Kita Shinsuke. Shinsuke, whom Atsumu loved. Shinsuke, who was Atsumu’s boyfriend for over a year.
Shinsuke, who Atsumu caught naked and willing in Osamu’s bed, his very own twin on top of him.
Forgiveness is warm, Nell said.
No. Just the thought of forgiving them burned.