Archive of Our Own

Miya Atsumu—despite the accounts of nearly every person he’s ever been close to in his years of living—is not a fool.

“Nope. Terrible idea,” he says with a firm head nod towards the ceiling.

Sakusa doesn’t seem at all surprised by this answer. In fact, he seems rather unfazed, as though he were expecting it.

“I agree.”

Oh.

“Then why are ya askin’ me?”

Atsumu strains his neck to peer up from where he’s sprawled out haphazardly across Sakusa’s bed, his expression holding a distant sense of exasperation. Sakusa taps his pencil against the desk a few times, thinking.

“Because I plan on moving out regardless. And you’d get all mopey if I didn’t ask.”

Atsumu’s head tilts. A refutation disguised as an obvious lie forms on the tip of his tongue naturally, but it quickly fizzles out into resignation.

“Whatever,” he says instead, which of course means, you’re right but I’m not tellin’ you that. Sakusa has the nerve to smile, just the slightest upturn of the corner of his lips that signals satisfaction.

“And though it may overall be in poor taste, I tolerate you,” Atsumu scoffs, Sakusa ignores it, “We’d have a kitchen, which means real food,” That’s not the point, Omi, he protests and is still ignored, “I hate the dorms. You hate sharing with people who aren’t your brother,” Who said I liked sharin’ with my brother anyways? “And it would decrease our time at this miserable place tenfold.”

“Attractive proposition, but I’m still gonna pass.”

Sakusa shrugs. “That’s fine.”

Atsumu frowns, letting his head fall back to stare at the ceiling. “That’s fine?”

“What? If you don’t want to, you don’t want to.” Sakusa says plainly, obviously.

“Yea, but then ya gotta like, interview people ‘n shit. And they could bail on ya, or secretly be a creep-”

He stops when Sakusa gets up from his chair with an eye roll and a motion of his hands that says ‘scoot over’. Atsumu shimmies rather ungracefully towards the wall until there’s just enough room for the both of them within the pitiful width of the twin sized bed.

Sakusa lays on his back first, then on his side, turning to face Atsumu. And Atsumu, who has the preservation skills equal to that of a goldfish in a gleaming glass bowl, can’t help the smile that breaks across his face as Sakusa’s deep eyes gaze across his features and that precious, but reserved smile makes another guest appearance.

“Why are you smiling?” Sakusa asks, in a softened way that says ‘I know exactly why. I just want to hear you say it.’

Atsumu’s grin doesn’t budge. “Why are you smilin’? Startin’ t’think ya like me or somethin’.”

The knee that Sakusa sends into his side is expected, but it still pulls a hearty laugh straight from the warmest parts of his chest, anyways.

“But, I don’t care,” Sakusa starts, then thinks, “Roommate or not, I mean. As long as I’m not here.”

“Famous last words. When they pull yer body outta the creek I’m gonna laugh straight in the face of everybody cryin’ over yer grave-”

Another kick. It hurts a little more.

(A lot more. Ya damn gremlin.)

-

“You don’t want to move in with Sakusa?” Suna asks him sometime the next week when they sit down for lunch in the campus cafeteria.

“How the hell d’ya know about that?” Atsumu questions, poking lazily at a partially wilted leaf of his salad.

“Saw Sakusa apartment hunting on his computer yesterday,” he starts, not making eye contact as he scrolls idly away on his phone, “I assumed he was looking for a place for you guys but he said you weren’t interested.”

Atsumu hums, peeling his eyes away from the sad sight of the willowing vegetable to stare out the wide windows letting in bountiful amounts of the early afternoon sunlight.

“I’m not.”

“Why?” he questions.

“I dunno, it’s just... it’s a little early for all that, ain’t it?”

Suna considers this with a low hum. “Depends. Better than being in the dorms though, in my opinion.”

“But it’s kinda a big deal. And if we split or somethin’ then it’d be all awkward ‘n weird and whatever.”

Suna cocks a brow, but it only stays perched for a moment before something like understanding washes across his face.

“Ah. You’re afraid.”

“What?” he gawks.

“You’re afraid of the unavoidable tensions of being too close for too long. You don’t want to mess things up,” Suna says with the confidence and finality of claiming that there’s seven days in a week. Grass is green. Cows go moo, y’know.

“Okay wait,” Atsumu waves his hands into the middle of the table as though to bat away the implications. “One, rude. Two, it ain’t about that I’m just thinkin’ that it’s a bit too soon to be goin’ and gettin’ a place together and all that-”

“Do you love him?”

Atsumu freezes.

Because yes, of course he loves Omi. But there’s a difference between being in love and being in love. Not the kind of love that you claim when a Cupid’s arrow has struck itself right between your ribs and your pining feels like an endless pursuit, but rather the one you claim when you’re truly, and thoroughly content with the person you’ve chosen to be with. In love love, good and proper.

Does he have that?

“I mean we haven’t said it officially, but…” he trails off, decides to pick a non-wilted leaf to chew on as he thinks.

Suna sets his phone down and narrows his eyes at Atsumu. Under the intense gaze he feels like he’s being taken apart and put back together like some kind of emotionally dense puzzle. He opens his mouth to complain about it, but doesn’t get a chance to when—

“I think you should think about it,” the other concludes.

“Why do ya care so much?” Atsumu bites, finally, “Tryna get rid of me or somethin’?”

Suna chuckles, though really it’s closer to a snicker. One of those villainous snickers, like he knows something Atsumu doesn’t. It’s incredibly damning.

“Whatever.”

“So I’m right?”

“No. You’re just a fool.”

But Miya Atsumu, as we’ve determined, is not a fool. Look at him! Studying hard, getting a degree, trying to become a lawyer. And lawyers, at least most of them, are not fools. They shouldn’t be, anyways.

“I’d argue with ya but I told Omi-kun I’d swing by ‘n grab him after his classes. Better head out.”

Suna’s smirk hasn’t moved. It’s beginning to make Atsumu uneasy. “Sure. Have fun, or whatever.”

And it’s a wide open door, really. So he has no regrets for letting out a: “Oh, we will,” with his best sly tone and seductive eyebrow wave. But only out of spite. Suna deserves it at this point.

And maybe Atsumu deserves the empty yogurt cup he only narrowly dodges.

-

“Atsumu. What the hell is this.”

“The hell is what?”

Atsumu watches with furrowed brows as Sakusa uncaps his highlighter and drags it across a line on the paper he’s graciously offered to proofread.

“This isn’t even a complete sentence,” He says as he slides the packet towards Atsumu’s half of the table.

Atsumu tries to read the now yellow colored text out loud once, fails, tries again, and then realizes where Sakusa is coming from.

“Listen, this was written at practically the ass crack of dawn. Gimme a break,” he offers.

“And remind me, again, why you had to stay up that late?”

Sakusa lifts an eyebrow. His expression is confident and his tone is teasing and Atsumu can’t explain the way his heart flutters at the sight. Okay wait maybe he can. Imagine a bird, but not an adult one, more like a baby one. And y’know the way they get pushed out of the nest or somethin’ and ya just gotta pray that they learn how to take off? Kinda like that. Ungraceful. Frantic. Yeah.

“Before I indulge ya may I note that you were the one textin’ me at two in the morning talkin’ about bingin’ Chopped together?”

“Invalid argument,” Sakusa shakes his head firmly. “Chopped is timeless.”

Atsumu’s brows raise. “And my paper isn’t?”

“If I have to read half-finished sentences, it isn’t, no. I’m a busy person, Atsumu.”

He sends him a pointed glare, but all he’s met with is that damned smirk. Atsumu can’t tell if he wants to punch it or kiss it off his face.

Considering that they're in the library, however, he can probably do neither. Unless he wants a citation. Actually, maybe he could get away with a quick peck. Would it be that hard? He could just lean over a little bit, smooch that stupid curve on his stupid boyfriend’s face-

“Atsumu.”

“Hm?”

“You’re staring.”

“Oh.”

He pulls his eyes down to his essay and takes one last glance at the half assed sentence before sliding it back over to Sakusa.

It’s in this moment, that Suna’s words echo in the back of his mind. Being with Sakusa like this, but possibly more often, could it really be that bad? If they were alone together, he could have done it. Given him the kiss the dumb bastard deserves.

But he already said no, and Sakusa said it was fine. Which probably means he won’t ask again. It’s settled, he can’t go back now. Right?

“What are you thinking about?”

Sakusa has halted his reading again to peer up at Atsumu, who has to shake his thoughts away.

“Nothin’. Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, then?”

“Don’t ya have a paper to proofread?”

“And don’t you have an article to annotate?”

“Touché, Omi. Touché.”

-

In the folder of recurring debates, right after ‘Dance Moms Hot Takes’ but before ‘Who’s better at GamePigeon Cup Pong,’ lies ‘Twitter: Light or Dark Mode?’

As it usually happens, Atsumu laughs at something on his phone. Sakusa says what. Atsumu says here, and passes it. Then of course Sakusa remembers all at once that Atsumu has the strange preference for light mode on most of his apps.

“I can’t even look at this. My eyes hurt,” he complains.

“Ya got fuckin’ vampire eyes or somethin’? Ain’t nothin’ wrong with light mode,” Atsumu says. From where he’s laying—head cradled snugly on Sakusa’s lap—the other’s frown is much less intimidating than usual. In fact, it’s a little cute. He tells him as such

Sakusa opens his mouth to protest, but is interrupted as Suna comes through the door and only a second later heaves a sigh.

“Disgusting. I’m gonna lose my dinner,” he groans.

Atsumu grins in response, but of course makes no effort to remove himself from Sakusa’s lap.

“Now ya know how I felt ‘bout you ‘n ‘Samu.”

Suna rolls his eyes as he falls carelessly onto his bed in the other corner of the dorm room. He ponders while looking up at the ceiling, but Atsumu notices the second a suspicious smile begins to spread across his face. Very suspicious.

“Why are you smiling like that,” he says accusingly.

“No reason,” Suna sits up and leans over to pull his laptop out from his bag. Atsumu remains unconvinced.

“Yer up to somethin’.”

“And you’re not paying attention.”

He begins to form his mouth around the words ‘to what’ but he glances up and realizes that Sakusa is laughing quietly at something on Atsumu’s phone.

(He snatches it back. Sakusa has taken a picture of Atsumu at a rather unattractive angle and tweeted it with the caption ‘idiot light mode user.’

His thumb hovers over ‘delete’, but Sakusa’s soft laugh echoes itself across his mind.

He decides to keep it up.)

-

Atsumu hears the call ringtone somewhere in between lunch and his last class for Tuesdays—which he would quite understandably consider outside of his office hours—but he checks the caller ID regardless and decides that he can make an exception, just this once.

“‘Samu! How’s culinary school goin’? Terrible? Good t’hear,” he says with a shit-eating grin as he sits on a concrete bench that lies in the grassy expanse of one of the quads.

“Fantastic, actually. I’m sure ya wouldn’t know anythin’ about that though.”

“Oh, I would. I’m havin’ the time of my life, really.”

“When’s the last time ya spent a weekend out?”

Atsumu’s expression falls. Has been… quite a while.

“I don’t need to be out doin’ delinquent stuff to be havin’ fun. It’s the richness of education that keeps me goin’.”

Osamu snorts.

“Right. And yer also a terrible fuckin’ liar.”

“Shuddup. Ya grew up with me so ya don’t count. I’ll be gettin’ paid to lie professionally soon enough.”

“Maybe in the next century, yea.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes so strongly you’d almost think he thought Osamu could see him. “I don’t have time for this. The hell did ya call me for?”

“Figure I’d give ya a warnin’. I might be a little closer to ya startin’ this summer.”

“Why?”

“Rin and I are lookin’ into movin’ in together.”

Atsumu has words, then they get lost. He tries to find some new ones and fails, but then a sneaking suspicion crawls up his spine and leaves his mouth without a second thought.

“Did Suna tell ya t’call me?”

“The hell are ya talkin’ about?”

That’s confirmation enough for Atsumu. He feels something tip on the side of anger in his chest.

“Tell yer bastard of a boyfriend that you guys movin’ in together ain’t gonna make me want to move in with Omi any faster!”

“The fuck does Sakusa have to do with any of this?”

Atsumu stands up from the bench and points an accusatory finger at nothing in particular, but the motion is still firm and indignant regardless.

“I’m not fallin’ for this shit. Tell him to try harder next time, too.”

“‘Tsumu-”

He hangs up, stares at the sky for a minute. Traces the edges of some clouds with his eyes, decides he didn’t get enough sleep for this, and walks towards his next class with his chest on fire.

-

[sunarin]

what’d he say?

[‘samu]

he said try harder next time.

[sunarin]

… what an ass.

-

(He takes about half as many notes than usual during the lecture. He’s not wrong for being hesitant, right? Can barely say I love you but he’s supposed to consider cohabitation?

He realizes. What’s stopping from saying it? Doesn’t he? Does Sakusa love him?

Omi is… everything. A stubborn asshole, sure, but intelligent and unintentionally funny even when he talks like he’s reading a thesaurus to a room full of old people. Witty, sensible….

Sensible. Right. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t see it as sensible. It is convenient, though Google told him that shouldn’t be the driving factor. They’re dating, go to the same uni, already used to balancing their schedules with each other…

And they’d be together. They could do all the lovey dovey stuff that makes him wanna gag, like make meals for each other, or cuddle up on a bed that doesn’t put them in danger of falling off the edge at any moment. And waking up next to Omi?

Oh shit.

He truly hopes whatever his professor had been rambling about for the last five minutes wasn’t important.)

-

(It probably was. He doesn’t talk just to talk, something the professor stated very clearly at the beginning of the semester.

Heh. That’s kinda like Omi.

Ah, wait.

Shit.)

-

Atsumu finds his heart beating a little louder in his chest the next time he’s knocking on the door. Why? This is no different than any other day? Why is the thumping in the base of his ears so damn loud?

He expects Sakusa to open the door, but of course with his luck, Sakusa doesn’t. Suna peeks his head out, and Atsumu has to resist turning on his heels and walking right back down the hall.

“What’s in the bag?” Suna asks, cracking the door open further to let him in. He looks puzzled when Atsumu doesn’t.

“Are we not gonna talk about the little stunt ya had Osamu pull the other day? And where’s Omi-kun?”

Suna opens his mouth like he’s gonna deny it, but something in him must think better of it. Instead he lets out a breath with a: “Not here. Come inside.”

He glares childishly at the other as he passes.

They sit across from each other, Atsumu on Sakusa’s bed, Suna on his own, and with a cautious breath, he speaks.

“Okay, yes, I thought it would help. And, no, he wasn’t lying. We had already been talking about it.”

Atsumu holds his bag closer to his chest as he looks to Suna with still-narrowed eyes.

“Ya never stick my nose in my business if ya can help it. What gives.”

Suna thinks for a moment, then:

“You have a talent for self sabotage.”

He ignores the urge to fight the statement. “And?”

“I knew by the time that you realized that you were one, stupidly in love with him, and two giving up a good opportunity, we’d be in the next decade.”

“And ya decided to make that yer problem because—?” He gestures vaguely with his hands.

Suna’s brows pinch further. “You’re acting like he’s gonna be another Ki-“

“We’re not bringin’ him in t’this-“

“Fine. But before you get all mad,” Suna interrupts, cautiously, “I live with Sakusa. We have classes together. I see how he acts to literally everyone else compared to you. And you’re not much better. You’ve changed in ways you wouldn’t even have considered if you hadn’t met him.”

“Now wait a minute-”

“Look at you!” Suna points accusingly at the bag between Atsumu’s hands. “You brought him snacks because you knew he had a test today, right?”

Atsumu glances down at the bag. His jaw slackens. Yes, it’s snacks. A snack; umeboshi, to be specific. Yes, it’s because Sakusa had an organic chemistry test today. (And he may not know much about the class, but it’s the only one Atsumu has ever seen Sakusa have a genuine distaste for so far. He figured it was justified.)

But maybe, just maybe, Miya Atsumu is a fool.

“I’m not trying to be the one to tell you whether you're ready or not, but I, for one, am tired of seeing you avoid things out of fear.”

“I do not avoid things-”

He stops. Suna has that look. Kinda like the one your parents give you when they know you’re about to lie straight to their faces and you should think better of it.

He thinks better of it. Closes his jaw. Takes a moment to consider it.

Okay yeah. Maybe sometimes. Though Atsumu will give you a million and then some different reasons (read: excuses) for it.

He lets out a steady exhale, then, “He just seemed… so okay with me sayin’ no. And he agreed that it was a bad idea!” he admits.

Suna rolls his eyes. “Because you’re both dense and trying to avoid rejection by making it seem like you never cared for it in the first place.”

Atsumu blinks.

“I’ll be honest. Hadn’t thought about it that way.”

Suna gives him that look. No, not that look. That look. The one they make at you when you realize something they’ve been trying to tell you for a while now. The one that says I told you so, I know best. Yeah, that one. Very different.

“Okay fine, whatever. But there’s still a lot t’consider—”

“And if you could just have a damn conversation about it,” he interrupts impatiently, “You’ll work that all out.”

Atsumu narrows his eyes at him. They seem to say Suna, please. Suna shakes his head. You’ll be fine. No, I won’t. Yes you will, because you have Sakusa. But if I mess this up I /won’t/ have Omi-kun.

Atsumu. Suna gives him that look. Different from that look and that look. It’s sort of a ‘You’re being an idiot. Don’t be an idiot’ kind of look. Atsumu tries not to take it personally.

Instead, he groans and rubs his face with his hands.

“Alright alright, I’ll see about it. But I make no promises,” he concedes, relaxing his posture a bit. “Ya sure yer not sick or somethin’? Yer actin’ real strange.”

Suna shrugs and stands from the bed. “This is all actually just a part of my elaborate plan to get you out of my hair.”

Atsumu gives an amused huff. “Ya can’t go claimin’ that now, yer in too deep.”

“Sure I can.”

“It wouldn’t kill ya t’admit that we’re close buds.”

“Probably would. I’d rather die,” he quips, but not without a smile as he throws on a hoodie that had been laying crumpled on the foot of his bed.

“Where ya goin’?” Atsumu quirks an eyebrow.

“A walk,” is all Suna says as he ties his shoes and heads towards the door. “But, really. Put your heart on your sleeve sometimes. Whatever happens, happens. You won’t know unless you try.”

Atsumu huffs. “Ya can’t just throw sayings together and hope ya sound all philosophical.”

“It worked though, didn’t it?” His smirk is confident. “Later, asshole.”

Suna slips out the door. It stays cracked open just long enough for Atsumu to hear the ‘Ah, Sakusa. Atsumu’s inside’ from somewhere nearby in the hall.

And sure enough, Sakusa comes barrelling through the door only seconds later. Atsumu lets out a nervous chuckle as he watches him drop his bag and toe off his shoes in record time.

“You alright, Omi-kun? Got me thinkin’ the sky is fallin’ or somethin’—”

He stops with a puff of air as Sakusa practically tackles him into the bed. He’d complain, or ask what’s wrong, or do literally anything but Sakusa’s tucked his face into his neck and his arms are holding him like the world is ending and Atsumu is truly, and thoroughly surprised.

“What am I laying on,” Sakusa mutters against his skin, referring to the package lying within the plastic bag that’s now smooshed between their torsos.

“Me.”

“Atsumu.”

“Fine. Umeboshi.”

A pause. “You didn’t.”

A grin. “I did.”

Sakusa moves to drag the bag out, and then props himself on his elbows, his nose mere inches away from Atsumu’s.

“How was yer test?” He manages, now.

Sakusa frowns. “At this rate, I’m going to fail.”

“Bullshit,” Atsumu says, with conviction. “Ya said that last time and got a B. Plus we didn’t spend all that time reviewing that aldol concentration—”

“—Condensation,” he corrects.

“Right. Condensation crap for ya t’fail.”

Sakusa heaves a sigh and lets his head fall again, curls just barely tickling Atsumu’s chin. And it’s nice, too nice even to be holding Sakusa like this, Atsumu decides.

He loves it. Loves h-

“Can you breath?” Sakusa asks.

Atsumu thinks about it.

“If I say no are ya gonna move?”

Sakusa lets out something between a scoff and an amused huff before sitting up and propping himself against the white wall. Atsumu takes the package of umeboshi out to tear it open and offer one to the other.

“Thanks.”

Atsumu grabs a plum for himself, and almost immediately regrets it when his mouth contracts and waters and puckers in ways that he’s fairly certain it’s not supposed to.

But then Sakusa is laughing, or at least, trying not to at his expression. Which of course then makes Atsumu smile, and his own laughter comes bubbling over before he can stop it.

And then they’re both laughing. It truly wasn’t that funny, but then someone has an ugly snort, and the other starts shedding laugh-tears and it just becomes increasingly strangely hilarious. Strangely thrilling. Strangely warm and right in all the right ways, though their eyes are wet and they’re gasping for air.

Atsumu gets this feeling in his chest. The feeling says do it, now's the time as he looks and sees Sakusa’s smile is unrestrained and perfect.

And he considers, really considers it. The words form on the tip of his tongue. He almost gathers the courage, but then Sakusa is leaning over to kiss him, and well, how could he say no to that?

(He simply doesn’t. And that’s fine, he thinks.

He’ll try again tomorrow.)

-

Except tomorrow turns into the next day, and the day after that, and a week. Or two. Or three.

The end of the semester is beginning to move in like stormy clouds, Sakusa has narrowed his options down to a handful of apartment complexes, and how does Atsumu explain to his housing coordinator that he may or may not need on campus housing for the next year depending on whether or not he can just suck it up and admit that he loves his boyfriend and wants to move in with him?

So yeah. He’s doin’ great.

Suna doesn’t press him any further, but his judgy stares are more than telling. Atsumu simply applies his well-honed skill of feigning ignorance and pays no mind to the looks.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit nervous at the fact that Sakusa still hasn’t brought it up since, though. Maybe he truly didn’t want to ask him to move in with him. Maybe Sakusa’ll turn on his heels and run when he tries to give him his heart on a platter. Maybe-

“This is ridiculous. There’s favoritism here, clearly,” Sakusa complains as the second to last chef is giving her goodbyes.

“Hm, I don’t think so. The cohesion just wasn’t there,” Atsumu counters.

Sakusa hits the power button on his phone, as though he can’t bear to watch the last standing chef receive his congratulations, and sets it somewhere to the side. “But he left out a basket ingredient and his incorporation of the graham crackers was completely unoriginal.”

“They said his appetizer was their favorite, though.”

“What about her main course?” Sakusa says as he turns to face him, “It was stunning. And she had the best cooked lamb.”

Atsumu smiles at him. He’s considering planting a kiss right between his brows when—

“I think that Chopped is stupid and we should all go to sleep,” Suna provides unhelpfully from his side of the room. Atsumu eyes the clock on the wall. Almost one in the morning. Huh.

“Are you staying?” Sakusa asks, but it’s soft. So soft he almost doesn’t hear it.

And Atsumu would, he really would. But what he never bothered to mention is the reading he’s supposed to have done before tomorrow's lecture that he’s completely neglected. So he shouldn’t, really.

“Nah, I’ll head back.”

“I’ll walk you,” Sakusa says, like Atsumu isn’t right down the hall. He can’t find it in himself to complain, though. In fact he finds it kind of endearing.

Especially when Sakusa links their pinkies and they walk like they’re sight-seeing in France instead traversing the dreary halls of their dorms. His heart is warm. Truly, and thoroughly warmed.

“Well, this is my stop,” he jokes outside his door. Sakusa shakes his head, but not without a subdued smile.

Now, let it be known that Miya Atsumu is not even a full two inches shorter than Sakusa. Not even! And yet, it seems to take Sakusa minimal effort to bring himself up just enough to plant a soft kiss, feather-light, upon his forehead.

And did he say he was warm? Try burning. Yea, that sounds about right.

“Good night, Atsumu,” he says, gently. And oh god, when did Omi get all soft on him? Was it the sleep deprivation? There’s gotta be something goin’ on here.

He stares wide eyed and almost forgets to utter a quick: “Yea, g’night Omi-kun,” before the other starts to walk away.

Atsumu falls onto his bed moments later. Well, he doesn’t fall, really, for the sake of his roommate who’s sleeping peacefully on the other side of the room, but he collapses, in some kind of melodramatic form.

He stares at the ceiling until his eyes are heavy and his only thought is damn, Omi’s really gonna be the death of me, huh?

He stares until he actually does fall asleep, forgoing all his other worries and concerns.

(And the reading, that he had left Sakusa’s room for in the first place. He wakes up cursing when he realizes his mistake.)

-

It happens on some insignificant Tuesday as Atsumu’s returning from his morning class. Something teases itself in his peripherals and stops him in his tracks.

‘ROOMMATE OPPORTUNITY’ is written in bolded text on a crisp white page pinned onto the dorm's bulletin board.

It makes heavy eye contact with him. ‘Hello Atsumu’, it says.

This isn’t happening, he says back.

It is, and that’s your problem.

Yea, well, ain’t my fault that I had to wait for the planets to align and a meteor to bonk me on the head or whatever else to realize that it might not be such a bad idea.

His email is on this paper.

The hell would I email him for? I’ve got a million other ways t’talk to him.

You can barely say ‘I love you’ to his face. Try it over text.

But that’s lame.

Yeah, well, you’re out of time.

Sheesh, yer startin’ to sound like Sun-

“Atsumu.”

Atsumu practically yelps at the hand that taps his shoulder.

“Jesus, anyone teach ya to give a guy a warnin’?!” He complains, placing his palm on his heavy beating heart.

Suna looks at him impatiently. “I did. You were too busy staring down the damn paper to notice.”

"Yea well, do better next time," to which Suna gives an amused huff.

“What are you gonna do?” He asks instead, straight to the point.

Atsumu let’s his confliction surface. He wants to risk it, wants to work things out with Sakusa. Wants to do all the gross domestic shit, wants to poke fun at his habits and particularities just to do them for him anyways. He loves Sakusa, though the word stands foreign in his vocab, and if he hasn’t done it good and proper yet, he sure will soon.

Now he just has to get all of that out of his damn mouth.

“I’m gonna tell him.”

“Are you sure?”

Atsumu glares at him. “Don’t go havin’ me second guess myself now.”

Suna chuckles weakly. “Sure. You do that, then.”

“Yeah,” he takes the sheet down from the board. It’s incredibly extensive, really. Sakusa has given as much detail as possible to describe his standards and expectations. Atsumu can’t help but smile at it. That’s his Omi, alright.

“I’ll do that.”

-

Sakusa opens the door. Atsumu knew he would because Suna said he would. Knowing that he would doesn’t settle his heart rate any, though. It thumps away excitedly? nervously? in his chest, waiting patiently to take a long awaited excursion out of its resting location between his ribs.

Sakusa looks at him a little funny. Not a lot, just a little, but this was to be expected anyways considering Atsumu’s dropped by completely unannounced. He seems to notice the roommate advertisement Atsumu had taken.

“Why do you—”

“I love you.”

Okay so when he said his heart was ‘waiting patiently’, apparently that had been a lie. Because the second he had opened his mouth it rose straight through his esophagus and right through his lips. The landing target had been Sakusa’s hands, but it seems to have fallen short. A lot short. Like straight through the floor and to the depths of the Earth. Goodbye, dear heart.

Sakusa’s looking at him with furrowed brows. No going back now.

“I mean yea, obviously, I’m in love with ya. But I mean like love love. Like more than I should, I think, because we’re barely passed legal drinking age but yer amazin’ in all the strangest ways which is exactly why I thought movin’ in together would be an awful fuckin’ idea but maybe I was wrong because now I can’t stop thinking about sleepin’ and wakin’ up by yer side and all the other sappy stuff so I apologize if it took me so long to realize but if it’s not too late will ya still consider lettin’ me be yer roommate. I mean I’m still yer boyfriend, but like also yer room-”

He stops. He doesn’t stop because he means to stop, he stops because Sakusa’s lips are on his and swallowing all the other words he was planning on blurting out. And that’s fine, Atsumu thinks. That’s more than fine in his book.

Sakusa pulls back, and he has that look. Not that look, or that look, or that look. Just, that look. One that kind of says ‘Ah, yes, this is the one I’ve chosen to be with.’ It’s not a bad look for him, really.

Atsumu smiles a little crooked, “Y’know, I think I’m startin’ to see a trend between us. We should probably stop ramblin’ outside of each others’ doors, I don’t think it’s very healthy.” Sakusa huffs something between a laugh and a scoff. It’s perfect, whatever it is. Atsumu’s sure of that.

“Atsumu,” Sakusa takes the paper from his hands, “I love you too. A lot, unfortunately. But of course-”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on,” Atsumu doubles over, clutching his chest. “Ya can’t just say that and move on like it’s nothin’!”

“You just said it to me.”

“Yea but that doesn’t mean I was expectin’ t’hear it back!”

Sakusa tosses the paper somewhere behind him to crouch down and grip Atsumu’s cheeks between both palms and lift his chin to look him in the eyes.

“I love you.” He plants a chaste kiss onto his lips. “I love you.” His forehead. “I love you.” His right cheek. “I love you.” His left. “I love you.” His nose. “Now, if you’re still unconvinced,” he says firmly as he pulls back, his eyes deep and gleaming, “I might have to reconsider wanting to move in with you.”

Is Atsumu alive right now? Is he breathing? His brain is but a puddle and his heart is still somewhere in the mantle of the Earth, but Omi’s hands are keeping him from lifting off to stars so could things really be that bad right now?

Someone clears their throat to their left. Their heads immediately snap to the sound.

“This is touching, really,” Atsumu recognizes the face. It’s their floor’s RA. “But could you take this inside?”

Neither of them say a word. They shuffle unceremoniously into the room, ignoring the burning sensation that spreads across their faces and the tips of their ears.

The door shuts, and they melt. Melt into each other’s arms, like the other is their air supply. Into sheepish chuckling, in the midst their shared shame. Into love, and deep into it, at that.

Yep, mhm.

They’ll be alright.

-

“I’m not, I repeat, not thankin’ ya,” Atsumu says firmly.

Suna hums and leans back onto the old car they borrowed to make moving everything over significantly easier. It’s not too far from campus though, the studio apartment they managed to snag, that is. Rather, the one Sakusa managed to snag. Thorough is always a good way to describe him after all. No stone was left unturned to finding the best place in terms of distance, price, and quality.

“Didn’t ask you to. Doesn’t mean I don’t think you should, though,” He says with a smirk.

Atsumu rolls his eyes. “Figured.”

“You can thank me by letting me use you for free labor when I move,” Suna tries instead.

Truthfully, Atsumu probably would have helped them out anyways, but he doesn’t need to know that. Not yet.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Atsumu,” Sakusa calls down from their small balcony on the fourth floor. Atsumu has to shield his eyes from the sun as he peers up to look at him.

“Omi-kun, love the look today,” he calls back, referring to the cleaning attire the other has put on while Atsumu’s been distracted. Apron, gloves that go up to the elbows, face mask, etc. The sight brings a smile to his face, though he couldn’t explain why. Okay wait, maybe he could. Imagine a show you really like, and then your favorite character. And y’know that feeling you get when they’re just there, on the screen? It’s kinda like that. You smile. He smiles. Yeah.

Sakusa raises his right arm, and dangling from it is a similar apron and a different neon colored set of gloves, still in their package.

“Come match with me, then.”

Atsumu turns to Suna with a cheesed expression. Suna feigns a gag.

“I hate you guys. I’m out of here,” he pushes himself off of the car to walk to the drivers side. “Have fun, or whatever.”

Atsumu can’t help it. It’s as much of an open invitation as it was when Suna first said it all those many weeks ago. He throws him his best suggestive eyebrow waggle, and a: “Oh, we will,” with the toothiest grin he can manage.

Suna, this time, does not have a yogurt cup to throw at him. He does however, currently have a car, and is happy to threaten to run him over.

Atsumu scrambles inside.

-

(It’s not sound, or a movement, or anything ceremonious that wakes Atsumu the next morning. He is asleep, and then he is not, simple as that.

“Omi-kun,” he tries, sleep tugging restlessly at the syllables.

Though he won’t waste the energy to open his eyes and check, he can feel the morning sun against his back, and the steady rise and fall of Sakusa’s chest on his front. And it’s perfect, he thinks. Just this. Just them.

“Mhm.”

“Yer gonna kill me, one of these days,” is all that his head can provide.

Sakusa plants a kiss into his hair. He will later deny this, most likely, if Atsumu knows him. And it’s safe to assume that Atsumu knows him pretty well. So he’ll revel in it while it lasts.

“Is that so?”

“Ya don’t deny it?”

Sakusa laughs weakly, a little huff of air that barely qualifies as one. Atsumu can’t help but smile into his collarbone.

“You’re probably right.”

“‘S okay,” he manages, as his words grow more sluggish. “If it’s anythin’ like this, I’ll be okay.”

“Go back to sleep, Atsumu.”

“Yea, okay, okay.”)

-

(“Love ya, Omi.”

“I love you, too.” )