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Their wedding anniversary fell the day after the MSBY Black Jackals competed with the EJP Raijin in Shizuoka.
Usually, two outcomes followed the match’s result:
(1) If the Jackals won, Atsumu would come home to Hyogo in a sunny mood, all smiles and bright grins, still riding the height of their fresh victory when he stepped out of the train.
(2) If the Jackals lost, Atsumu would sulk all the way home to Hyogo, an imaginary raining cloud hovering on top of his head, dampening his mood and constantly reminding him of all the rallies where he could have done better.
After watching the live stream from his laptop, Shinsuke knew what to expect when he saw the match’s awful result.
He quickly sent a comforting text— even if they barely did much to help ease Atsumu’s disappointment —that would most likely be read an hour later, closed his laptop, planned to buy fatty tuna along with relaxing bath bombs before picking up his lover at the train station tomorrow, and retired to bed.
Mentally, Shinsuke also prepared himself for the number of hugs, head pats, and kisses that Atsumu would demand while he stayed in Hyogo. Who knew that his high school crush turned husband, the one who demanded silence from a crowd with a raise of his fists and constantly bickered with his twin, could be the equivalent of a big, endearing baby when he wanted affection? The summer heat could be stifling at times, but knowing how clingy Atsumu was whenever he lost a game, Shinsuke would bear the extra warmth and sweating if it meant cheering his lover up.
But none of his forethought could quell Shinsuke’s shock once he saw Atsumu’s… state.
Stepping out of the train along with the few passengers in his car, Atsumu’s handsome face was scrunched for reasons Shinsuke could not understand, eyebrows furrowed down and mouth half-opened as if he was about to say something.
Then, with fast reflexes only owned by a volleyball player, he pulled a crumpled handkerchief from his jacket’s pocket and sneezed into it with his whole body. It was the deafening kind that caused onlookers to stop and point at his queasy lover.
From where he stood at the station’s entrance, Shinsuke could hear the sound of snot noisily blown into the undoubtedly dirty, germ-infested handkerchief.
The start of their anniversary was far from perfect.
*
“Atsumu, are you awake? I brought chamomile tea.”
A sneeze, followed by a loud snot-blowing noise. Shinsuke resisted the urge to playfully pinch Atsumu when his lover crumpled the tissue and made another failed toss to the trash can at one corner of their bedroom, adding more to the trail of trash needing to be picked up later.
“I am,” Atsumu sniffed, eyes downcast. “Thanks for the tea, Shin.”
Gone were Atsumu’s easy laughs and blinding grins, leaving a bedridden, miserable man who had succumbed to flu at the peak of summer. Shinsuke’s heart seized at the sight— Atsumu has been uncharacteristically quiet the whole day, only making flu-related sounds and occasionally requesting more tissue and water every few hours.
The way he had roughly pulled his hands from Shinsuke’s grip and denied every skin-to-skin contact throughout the day was a telling clue to his lover’s state of mind:
Atsumu was blaming himself, not just for his team’s defeat.
Their failed attempt to celebrate their anniversary must have weighed on his mind, too.
“Hey,” Shinsuke whispered, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. Carefully, his fingers pushed Atsumu’s matted bangs away, and his lover leaned into the touch before abruptly jerking away as if he was scorched by the gentle hand. Like he remembered a second too late that he was not supposed to indulge in the offered intimacy. “Come on, talk to me. What’s on your mind, ‘Tsumu?”
It was hard to make out his features with only the night lamp’s golden illumination as a guidance, but Shinsuke has spent years mapping every curve and dip of Atsumu’s face to make out the sad tremble of his mouth and teary eyes like an expert.
“It’s nothing,” Atsumu replied, his shaky voice pushing the lie out. He tilted his head away as he said, “I’m just tired, Shin. I didn’t expect to come home feeling sick on top of being sore after a 5-set game.”
Shinsuke hummed. As patient as ever, his fingers returned to cup Atsumu’s clammy cheeks, gently tipping his jaw so they were face-to-face once more. “Is that all that you had in mind?”
Atsumu bit his lips, golden eyes contemplating the idea to be honest before shutting it down, turning bitter and distanced again. “Yeah,” He sighed, leaving the comfort of Shinsuke’s hand to roll over, face hidden in the pillows and showcasing his sweaty back instead. “I’m just exhausted.”
Well. Asking Atsumu to be truthful about his feelings could be as easy as plucking a flower at times, but tonight, that did not go as smoothly as Shinsuke hoped.
There was one thing left for Shinsuke to do:
If Atsumu wanted space judging from how he’s been avoiding Shinsuke all day, then he would honor his lover’s wish and wait until he was ready to open up.
“Alright,” Shinsuke conceded. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. I’ll refill your water bottle and tissue box every few hours, but feel free to wake me up if you need anything else. Drink your tea, too— chamomile helps your sleep better. Get well soon, ‘Tsumu. I love you.”
Shinsuke slowly sat up, already eyeing the sea of white tissue papers that he needed to dispose of. Once he had stood up, his right hand reached for the trash can that he would use.
Only to have that same hand gripped at the wrist by a damp, quivering palm.
“I’m sorry,” Atsumu whined, gripping his hand tighter in desperation. His tight, distressed hold was conveying a message, as if Atsumu was scared that Shinsuke would— rightfully —walk out because he had been pushed away despite offering him help, and this was his late attempt to fix their ruined night, to bridge this distance he had once built himself. A sob punched its way out of Atsumu’s lips, his fingers clutching firmer. “Shin, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Shinsuke turned around, forgetting all about the messy floor to pay his utmost attention to a crying, half-sobbing-and-coughing Atsumu. He quickly returned to his seat, using one hand to pluck a clean tissue and dabbing it to dry the trail of tears staining his cheeks.
“Oh Atsumu,” Shinsuke shushed, plucking another tissue to dry the fresh wave of tears. Without asking Atsumu to let his right hand go, he positioned them so his palm could cup his lover’s jaw. “Come on, talk to me. I can’t understand what you’re thinking if you’re pushing me away. I thought you wanted some space?”
Atsumu roughly shook his head and consequently groaned from how the movement made him dizzy. Shinsuke was ready to check on him when the palm that circled his wrist had traveled up, Atsumu’s fingers now held above his own.
“I just want you,” Atsumu murmured, intertwining their fingers together. He closed his eyes, new tears and snot slipping out as he confessed, “I want you, I miss you so badly, but I’m scared that if I let you close, you’ll get sick too! I’ve already ruined a lot of things— the game, our anniversary, and coming home sick, and I just… I can’t get you sick either. I want you, but I don’t want to make you feel as shitty as I feel now. I’ve been bad to you when you’ve been nothing but caring to me, and God knows that I don’t deserve you, but hell, I miss you so much that it hurts way more than this stupid flu.”
Shinsuke stilled, watching in stunned silence as Atsumu cried, hiding his face in their connected hands and never letting go, far from the confident man that would stand on the court.
Truthfully, Shinsuke never minded the fact that he could be sick just from accompanying Atsumu and cleaning after his medical waste— the Jackal’s team doctor had confirmed that it was just normal flu, so even if he did get infected too, a trip to the doctor and a proper rest should heal him in no time. He was pretty confident that his healthy state and vitamin intake would make that unlikely to happen.
Nor did Shinsuke mind the snot, tears, feverish skin, constant sneezing, and the number of sweaty shirts that Atsumu changed today, as disgusting as they were. The same could be said for Atsumu’s day-long awful mood and his unwillingness to talk, as much as it hurt him that the help he was extending was blatantly ignored.
Shinsuke understood about all this, back when he picked Atsumu up at the train station today and a year ago when they had exchanged wedding vows.
A relationship was all about learning about each other— the longer you discover new things about your partner, the more fulfilling and fun the relationship would be. The things a couple would need to learn might decrease as they shared more time, but by no means the learning would end at some point.
Tonight, a year after their marriage, Shinsuke learned that love could be found in the form of stubbornly giving help despite how reluctant his stubborn husband may be.
“Scoot over,” Shinsuke ordered, letting their hands go in favor of picking the damp duvet up. “Make some space for me, ‘Tsumu.”
Atsumu stopped sobbing, attention momentarily shifted to Shinsuke, who had slipped beneath the duvet and made himself at home despite how hot their bed was.
Then, after a minute's lag, Atsumu screeched and put an arm’s wide distance between them.
“Shin!” Atsumu protested, using one hand to push Shinsuke off the bed. “You can’t! I already told you that you can’t—”
Swiftly, Shinsuke caught Atsumu’s flailing hand and laced their fingers together. “It’s okay,” Shinsuke whispered, shushing his panicking lover. “Lay down with me and I’ll explain why.”
Atsumu stopped fighting, almost believing in the promise of Shinsuke’s words and the temptation to lay close. Keyword: almost.
He laid back down, still giving them a good separating distance just in case.
Shinsuke held onto his hand, never letting go of their grip, smiling gently to help reassure Atsumu. “It’s my duty to take care of you, Atsumu. Be it about your bad moods or physical health, I want to help you through it all,” Shinsuke started. “But did you know? Despite the obligation written in our vow, that line that said, ‘in sickness and in health,’ I want to take care of you. I’ve always wanted to, back since I first gave you that care package. And years after that, after seeing you in many different states, I still want to. So, to make it short, I don’t mind spending my time brushing away your tears or helping you blow your nose. I don’t mind having to nurse you back to health. I don’t mind if I do get sick, and I certainly don’t mind missing out on celebrating our anniversary.”
Bringing their hands up, Shinsuke maintained his gaze and placed a small peck on the back of Atsumu’s clammy hand, kissing the skin that held years of volleyball training and making their relationship work written in it. “I’ll be here by your side, always offering to help you out, so don’t ever feel bad about how things ended today because I know how hard you’ve tried to give your best. And please, be a little selfish, Atsumu— I won’t love you any less for needing me when you’re at your lowest.”
And that was all that Atsumu needed to hear because the next moment, the weight of his six-foot lover crashed into Shinsuke’s arms, practically crushing him in his hug and letting the months of longing speak for themselves.
Reciprocating the hug and peppering small kisses around Atsumu’s face proved to be an easy routine for Shinsuke to slip back into.
Later at night, after the tears and snot have been wiped away and the long cold chamomile tea was drunk, Atsumu laid in bed with his head propped on Shinsuke’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat with a tired, but content smile.
“Happy anniversary Shin,” Atsumu murmured, snuggling closer for warmth. “Thank you for loving me despite how troubling I am.”
Shinsuke shushed him with a kiss on top of his sweaty blond hair. “I love you too,” Shinsuke replied. “And I love all sides of you, Atsumu. I truly do.”
As unexpected as their wedding anniversary had been, Shinsuke never minded this drastic change one bit.