Chapter Text
Kiyoomi remembers the first time he saw him.
It was after Hinata’s first official game, Adlers vs MSBY. It was a good match, a great one even, considering they won. He doesn’t remember much about the whole thing, you kinda stop remembering every single one of your games after a few years.
But he remembers him.
Three-piece suit, black hair combed to the side, tall with a cat-like smile and a silly volleyball tie to top it all. Kinda looking like a grown child while he talked to Hinata.
“Whoa, talk about a con man vibe,” Atsumu had said back then. “I can see it now. He tricked me and before I knew it I was in a jillion yen in debt.” He mocked him and Kiyoomi nodded, agreeing.
He looks slightly annoying. Kiyoomi remembers thinking back then. About three years ago.
He’s definitely annoying, he thinks now as he tries his best not to clench his jaw at the sight of that same man maintaining a long fucking conversation with Atsumu for about… ten minutes now, if Kiyoomi’s watch is correct.
Which it is.
Who the fuck even talks for that long? This, this is the exact same reason why Kiyoomi hates sponsor parties and charity events. Why he would have rather skipped the whole thing and just stayed at home, but Meian insisted everyone attended and “ be on your best behavior guys. This is our chance to gain some more sponsors and deals. ” So here he is, bored and tapping his foot against the wooden floor waiting for Atsumu to finish his talk.
Kiyoomi takes another annoyed look at his Rolex. It’s been fifteen minutes.
He would have left by now if it wasn’t for the fact he had one too many champagne glasses. That, and the fact Atsumu is his assigned driver, so he really doesn’t have much option than to wait for the fucker.
Well, unless he goes there and interrupts Atsumu’s conversation once and for all.
The idea seems extremely tempting. Making Kiyoomi smirk to himself as he shakes his head. He swipes his thumb across his own lips, but his grin doesn’t go away.
He could do it. Step in and put a little act to swoon Atsumu out of the conversation. Maybe slide his arm around his waist, tell whoever that guy is that he’s very sorry, but he has to borrow Atsumu for a minute . Atsumu is probably bored by now, Kiyoomi could so easily just slide in, smile, and take Atsumu away. He’d be a hero.
Except Kiyoomi takes a look back at Atsumu, and he looks anything but bored. Or annoyed. Or tired. He looks… amused . He’s laughing. His actual laugh, not the fake shit he puts up for everyone, but the real one. The one that makes him squint his eyes and scrunch up his nose and makes Kiyoomi’s heart race just a tiny bit.
Kiyoomi’s stomach drops all the way to his fancy black shoes. Atsumu is enjoying himself, the bastard is practically beaming with attention as he talks to the handsome– no, no. He isn’t handsome. He’s good-looking at best– as he talks to whoever that good-looking man is .
“Oh, c’mon, ” Kiyoomi grunts for himself when it looks like Atsumu is finally about to leave for good, only for the other guy to tell him something else and make the conversation extend again . “Of fuckin course.” He curses, rubbing the space between his eyebrows.
They barely met, what are they even talking about? Who even talks this much ? And why, why does Atsumu seem to be having a good time? Why is that stupid smile on his face and that subtle blush on his cheek and– oh , great, now Atsumu did stop talking and is walking his way.
Kiyoomi doesn’t even pretend to look away. He wants Atsumu to know he was very much watching and waiting for his whole conversation to be over already so they could go home.
“Trying to get a good raise for us all?” Kiyoomi mockingly comments when Atsumu finally reaches him, instantly walking down back to the parking lot as he hears Atsumu laugh beside him.
“Someone’s gotta charm them,” Atsumu shrugs, swinging the car keys between his fingers as he shoots him a side-eye glare. “Ya know, since ya won’t do it.”
He can’t believe him.
“It’s not my job to flirt with the sponsors,” Kiyoomi flatly points out as he gets into the passenger seat, accidently bumping his head like an idiot.
“Oi, Omi, careful there,” Atsumu quickly leans down to his seat, reaching out to carefully touch the back of Kiyoomi’s head. His palm feels warm where it sits right on Kiyoomi’s curls. “Had one too many drinks?” Atsumu shoots him a tiny lopsided smile.
Kiyoomi doesn’t even notice how he leans into his touch.
“Could’ve had the whole open bar while you flirted with that spon–”
“He’s not a sponsor,” Atsumu’s voice is soft in the small space they’re sharing. “He’s the son of one of them, I think. His name is Kuroo, ya know? Hinata’s old friend, I think he–”
“I don’t care who he is– Atsumu, stop ,” Kiyoomi shakes his head as he slaps Atsumu’s hand away. The very hand that was starting to play with his curls. “I just bumped my head. I’m fine.”
Atsumu lets his hand go, but doesn’t move away. Grinning like he just noticed something he shouldn’t have.
“Aw, Omi, don’t tell me yer jealous,” Atsumu teases him, leaning into the door frame until his body is covering the entirety of Kiyoomi’s view. “I was just makin’ a little networking. That’s all. Nothin’ to worry about, baby.”
Kiyoomi huffs, pushing Atsumu back and away before sitting properly in his seat. “I don’t care who you shamelessly flirt with. Now get the fuck in. I wanna go home.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He hears Atsumu laughs as he gets around the car and into the driver’s seat, getting ready to finally go, but not without obnoxiously flaunting his phone out in front of Kiyoomi’s face first. “But ya should know I’m really good at networking my way around sponsors.”
Kiyoomi raises a single eyebrow at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Atsumu grins, slipping the phone back into his front pocket. “Nothin’. Just that I got the guy’s number, so when ya see the next raise in yer paycheck, ya can make sure to thank me.”
Kiyoomi annoyingly huffs again, throwing his head back to rest against the seat before he closes his eyes, trying to stop the very obvious headache already forming.
“Whatever you say, Atsu.”
Three loud knocks on his front door wake him up from his failed nap. Failed , because he can still pretty much feel the annoying headache pounding behind his forehead and ringing in his ears, making him feel miserable.
God , he really shouldn’t have had that many champagne glasses last night.
“Omi, open up! It’s me,” Atsumu’s voice shouts from the other side of the door as if Kiyoomi wouldn’t know Atsumu is quite literally the only person that would be this damn loud knowing someone is going through the worst hangover of their life.
Kiyoomi grunts in exasperation when Atsumu knocks on the door again , his own head thumping in response.
“God. Stop that.” Kiyoomi groans, pushing the messy curls out of his face before he opens the door to face a very well put together Atsumu in fresh clothes and still wet hair. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Atsumu seems completely unphased as he shoots him a quick glare and an easy smile. “Love to see ya too, Omi.” He sarcastically replies as he just… walks himself in. Taking off his shoes and stepping into Kiyoomi’s apartment as if it was his own before turning around again. “Ya look like shit. Is the hangover that bad?”
“What do you think?” Kiyoomi hisses as he closes the door and follows Atsumu into his own kitchen.
“It looks like it’s kicking yer ass,” Atsumu half laughs, “I like the look on ya, tho.”
Kiyoomi can’t help but mutter a small fuck off i n response because his dizzy brain doesn’t know how else to deal with the compliment. Or with the way Atsumu’s own eyes soften at him when he said that.
It’s just easier to pretend Atsumu is teasing him for his ugly pajama shorts and old, raggedy shirt and messy bed curls than to even think he still likes him like this .
“Yeah, that’s what I called off today.” Kiyoomi deadpans as he sits down on the kitchen table. “To have some peace .”
The indirect goes above Atsumu’s head like they always do. Kiyoomi swears he has grown immune to his sarcasm by now, too used to it to really care about it. Especially because he probably knows Kiyoomi doesn’t mean it.
Instead, he just takes out a couple of Gatorade bottles and some carefully wrapped onigiris from the bag he got there with, and passes one of each to Kiyoomi.
“Here, because I know ya haven’t eaten anything today,” Atsumu says before he swings a chair out and sits in front of him, grabbing some onigiri for himself.
“I hope you paid for these,” Kiyoomi comments, unwrapping what he knows is umeboshi onigiri.
“Told Samu to put it in yer tab,” Atsumu smiles mid-bite, making Kiyoomi roll his eyes at him.
The first bite takes like heaven to him. Soft and savory and so filling after almost a whole day of surviving solemnly on ibuprofen and cold water. He’d never admit it, not out loud, but he appreciates this. How Atsumu keeps checking up on him ever after they… even after he broke up with him.
Kiyoomi isn’t sure how they managed to go from friends to lovers, to exes, to coming all the way back to being friends, but he likes it. He’s grateful for it. Living without Atsumu as his partner is one thing, something he taught himself to do, but he doesn’t believe he could go on without him as his friend .
But that’s all they are now, Kiyoomi thinks as he chunks down half a Gatorade bottle. Friends. Very good friends. And he can’t afford to ruin the fragile thing they built again by admitting he still loves these moments.
“Did anything interesting happen at practice today?” Kiyoomi asks instead, reaching out to unwrap his second onigiri. Damn it, he was hungry.
“Nah,” Atsumu shakes his head. “Nothin’ really. Just the same stuff. I did practice a new attack with Shoyo, though. I think he’s gonna get it before ya do.”
“I was out just one day, don’t exaggerate,” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. Atsumu’s tricks to make him jealous are always so damn obvious. Kiyoomi hates the fact that they still work. “What new attack was it? The quick one?”
“Well, actually–” Atsumu is cut short by the ping of his phone getting a new message. “We were trying to pull off the–” His phone pings again, and one more time after that, echoing through the kitchen.
Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow, amused. “You’re not going to pick that up?”
“No, they can–” His phone pings again, making Kiyoomi snort. Atsumu, on the other hand, curses under his breath. “Ya know what, I should pick this up. Just– give me one sec.”
Kiyoomi hasn’t even finished saying go ahead , when Atsumu is already sliding the door open to the balcony, and taking the call. And Kiyoomi can’t hear him from where he’s sitting, doesn’t know who he’s talking to, but he can see the tiniest stupid smile show in Atsumu’s face, and something drops in his chest.
He pretends he doesn’t feel it, though. Pretends he’s too busy chugging down the last bit of his Gatorade. Pretends he wasn’t trying to hear a little bit of the conversation when Atsumu comes back inside but doesn’t sit down.
“Sorry, Omi. I kind of gotta go now,” Atsumu shyly smiles, scratching the back of his neck. “Gotta meet someone and I’m kinda late.” He puts his hands on his pockets, shooting a concerned look back at him. “Ya ok? Think ya gonna come to practice tomorrow?”
Kiyoomi makes sure to swallow the last of the bottle before he nods. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”
Atsumu nods, his smile turning bright again. “‘Kay. Let me know if ya need anythin’ else?”
“I’ll be fine. It’s just a hangover. Go. See you tomorrow.” Kiyoomi hurries him, basically having to shoo him away, closing the door on him before Atsumu can say goodbye for the sixth time .
That, however, doesn’t stop him from still hearing Atsumu talk from the other side of the door.
“Hello? Yeah, I’m on my way. See ya at Samu’s?”
Kiyoomi’s stomach does the flippy thing again, but he chooses to believe it’s just his body punishing him from eating so much in so little time instead of recognizing that something about this whole thing feels… weird. Like a bad feeling, he can’t quite shake off.
Turns out the bad feeling Kiyoomi was having manifested itself in the form of Kuroo Tetsurou at practice the next day. And this time he couldn’t blame the twisting feeling in his gut to alcohol, or a bad hangover.
This time he has to deal with the fact he pretty much doesn’t like seeing him around. At practice. Practically staring at Atsumu the whole fucking time .
It’s okay, though. Seeing him here again doesn’t affect him. He can still hit Atsumu’s sets just fine, land every spike, and even stop Bokuto’s serves. He’s in top form today, Kuroo’s presence isn’t annoying him.
Except it is .
Except Atsumu keeps looking up to where Kuroo is sitting after any good move and smiling like an idiot when he gives him two thumbs up as if a regular one wasn’t good enough .
Kiyoomi has to physically hold himself back from making any faces and giving himself away. He knows how… expressive his face can be even when he is keeping his mouth shut. However, he can’t quite control himself when it’s time out between practice sets, and Kuroo comes jogging down the bench to meet them, looking like some sort of model with his dark suit and perfect smile.
“Kuroo-san! I didn’t know you were coming today,” Hinata is the first one to greet him. Cheerful as ever. “Is something happening?”
“Chibi-chan I-” Kuroo starts, but Bokuto interrupts him.
“Yeah, dude. You could’ve told us!” Bokuto agrees, gently pushing Kuroo’s shoulder.
Kuroo laughs, shaking his head as he palms Bokuto’s back. “It was a last-minute thing, Bo. The association wants us to watch over some teams and supervise some practices, so here I am.”
“I didn’t know this was going to be an open practice,” Kiyoomi deadpans, apparently being the only one not absolutely charmed by Kuroo’s tactics.
Kuroo doesn’t seem affected by his tone at all, though. Instead, he just nods, letting out a chuckle.
“Yeah, sorry for showing up out of the blue. But little fox here invited me over so…” Kuroo lets his words linger as he shares a quick smile with Atsumu. One that makes Atsumu smile too, and Kiyoomi unconsciously clunch his water bottle. “I thought it would best to stop by here first.”
“Little what ?” Kiyoomi’s words are out of his mouth before he can even think of shutting up.
“ Little fox, ” Kuroo’s grin at that moment reminds him of a cat. “Don’t worry, Omi-chan . I give everyone nicknames, I can give you one too if you want to.”
Kiyoomi is about to say he would rather fucking die than have to deal with another annoying nickname from some flirty-looking guy, but before he can do so, the whistle blows, and their break is pretty much over.
Everyone says goodbye to Kuroo before jogging back to the court, Atsumu staying back for a few more seconds. Whatever , Kiyoomi thinks, it’s not like he will have to see him again.
He does see Kuroo again the next day.
And the day after that too.
And would you see that? Kuroo is there by the end of practice the next day as well. Every time Kiyoomi arrives to practice the bastard is either already there, or walks in right before practice is over to chat with Bokuto and Atsumu.
By the sixth time Kuroo is interrupting practice (Bokuto, Atsumu, and Hinata say he’s visiting, but Kiyoomi would like to disagree) he starts to question if this guy even works. Either he doesn’t, or he has way too much free time on his hands.
Whatever the reason, it’s starting to creep up on Kiyoomi’s skin. Slowly but steadily making his way up to his chest and closing tightly around his heart with every beat.
He tries to ignore the feeling. Tries to slam it down with every spike. Put it away with every forceful serve. He tries and tries, but every time they are on time out and Atsumu goes jogging to talk with Kuroo and Bokuto instead of talking with him like they always do, the feeling comes full force, almost throwing Kiyoomi to the ground.
He’s jealous . Fuck , he’s jealous .
The old, familiar feeling erupts all over his body the second he recognizes the burning in his stomach and pressure in his chest as jealousy. Good, old regular jealousy that’s slowly eating him alive and making his daily life a living hell.
Especially when one day, after Kuroo has been visiting them for about a week and a half straight, he joins them in court after practice. And this time he isn’t wearing his fancy grey suit, but a pair of shorts, sneakers, and a dry-fit shirt.
“Mind if I join you all?” Kuroo jogs in, casually leaning over Bokuto’s frame as he points his chin to Atsumu. “Little fox said it was okay if I joined you for a while. Since practice is over and I do need my daily thirty minutes of exercise.”
Kiyoomi tries not to roll his eyes at that.
“You wanna play?” Bokuto instantly beams.
“If you’ll have me,” Kuroo grins. It’s annoying how much he resembles a cat. Sneaky just like one. “Kinda miss beating you up in court. Not to mention I’d like to hit some new tosses too,” He adds, and Kiyoomi does roll his eyes at that.
Atsumu, however, is delighted. “What do ya say, Omi? Three against three?” Atsumu smiles, tiny drops of sweat making his skin shine under the gym lights. “Me, Kuroo and Hinata, against you, Bokuto and Adrian.”
“I thought we were going to practice our new attack,” Kiyoomi slowly points out, hoping Atsumu can sense the annoyance in every word.
If he does, he doesn’t show it.
“Ya need to practice yer quick attack with Adrian too, right?” Atsumu asks but doesn’t give him time to answer at all. “C’mon,” He palms Kiyoomi’s ass a bit too strong. “Let’s go. Three out of two sets win. The losers have to pay for the drinks tonight.”
If he thought he was jealous before, nothing quite compares to whatever the hell crawls up his spine and coils deep in his heart when he sees Atsumu set for Kuroo, and the way Kuroo hits it so elegantly, as if they were playing together for years now.
It sets something off inside Kiyoomi. A thought he hasn’t had in a very long time. He doesn’t want anyone to hit Atsumu’s sets like that but him . To have that type of connection only they seem to have in court.
It’s a raw, violent competitive instinct that goes off inside Kiyoomi at that moment. A spark that makes him hit Adrian’s sets ever harder, faster, better than Kuroo is doing. It fuels him up in a surprisingly refreshing way.
He isn’t jealous of Atsumu and whatever the fuck Kuroo and him have going on. He’s jealous of his teammate, of Atsumu’s attention during games being stolen away. Of his talent being used by someone else that isn’t him , or their team.
Yeah, he is not jealous, why would he be? Atsumu is his friend , he can flirt and date whoever he wants to. But this , this side of Atsumu is his .
Bokuto slams the ball on the other side of the court in a single shot, earning them the win and so ending the match.
“Looks like you lost,” Bokuto grins at Kuroo as he crosses the net to the other side. He has this… feral aura to him that frankly, scares Kiyoomi sometimes, but this time it makes him smile, too. Yeah, they won. “Seems like you’ll be paying for the drinks tonight.”
Kiyoomi’s eyes snap up then, water bottle clutched in his hand. Please, don’t come .
Kuroo laughs, shaking his head as he throws an arm around Bokuto’s shoulders. “Maybe another time, Bo. I really should go. I have an early shift tomorrow and–”
“Don’t try to sneak your way out of this,” Atsumu chirps in as he uncaps his own bottle. “We lost. It’s only fair and square.”
“Yeah. You should come,” Bokuto almost pleads.
Kiyoomi is mentally chanting please don’t come , begging whatever god is out there that this is where the night ends, but then Atsumu, the little traitor, gently pushes Kuroo by the shoulder and smiles up to him.
“C’mon, Tetsu . It’d be fun.”
“Fine,” Kuroo chuckles. “I’ll go with you. Just for a while.”
Kiyoomi didn’t notice how hard he was squeezing his water bottle, until the thing splurts all over him, accidently splashing Hinata, who is just beside him as well.
“ Shit – sorry, Hinata,” Kiyoomi mutters, shutting the water bottle cap closed. “Are you okay? Did it get to you or–”
“It’s alright, don’t worry. Are you okay, Omi-san?” Hinata’s voice rings in his ear. “You seem… stressed.” He kindly adds, giving him a condescending smile.
Kiyoomi tries not to look back at Kuroo and Atsumu.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Kiyoomi walked into the izayaka determined to hate Kuroo Tetsurou and the way he had barged in into Atsumu’s and his life all of the sudden.
He had crossed the bar with the full intention of being a jerk, and acting out like the asshole he knew he could be whenever he wanted to. But now, as the clock in his wrist ticks away through the late hours of the night, and he sits alone at the round table, half-empty drink in his hand as he looks back at Kuroo and Atsumu talking down the bar, he finds himself feeling… defeated.
He couldn’t be an asshole to Kuroo. He didn’t manage to say a single bitchy comment all night long. Kiyoomi couldn’t do anything but sit down and have a front-row seat to see Kuroo treat Atsumu like he used to do.
The man was hitting every single check in the how to be the perfect gentleman book in one night. He went and got them a good table. Picked up their drinks (Including Kiyoomi’s) so they wouldn’t have to stand up. He made the conversation flow nice and easy, making Bokuto and Hinata laugh while he always, always, made sure to look at Atsumu whenever he talked as if he was talking only to him.
The bitter realization that he could be the one doing that bite him the ass like a snake. Quickly and suddenly, leaving a nasty sting. That could be his hand and not Kuroo’s grazing over Atsumu’s one as he reached over the table.
That could be him and not Kuroo sitting next to Atsumu. It could be his jacket that he’s drafting over Atsumu’s shoulder, sitting just a tiny bit loose on him, but no , it isn’t his, it isn’t him at all. It’s Kuroo .
Truth be told, the bastard was charming, well-mannered, likable . He made Kiyoomi feel as if he had lost a battle he didn’t even know he was fighting.
“Hinata,” Kiyoomi stops him as he walks by. “Could you drive me home tonight?”
Hinata seems a bit startled but nods nonetheless. “Sure, Omi-san. Tobio is picking me up in a few, but isn’t Atsumu-san–”
“No. I don’t wanna bother him tonight.” Kiyoomi simply explains, and is grateful Hinata doesn’t push it.
“Oh, hm , okay. Yeah, no problem,” Hinata quickly smiles. “I think it’s gonna be a couple of minutes until Tobio gets here, though.”
“That’s fine,” Kiyoomi replies, chugging down the last of his craft beer before he stands up. It tastes bitter. “I’m gonna be waiting outside if that’s okay.”
The cold autumn air hits Kiyoomi’s exposed cheeks when he steps outside. The night is quiet except for the soft rumble coming from inside of the izayaka, and the occasional cars passing by.
Kiyoomi sighs, pushing his hands inside his jacket’s pockets as he leans against the wall. He’s weirdly tired, his body feels heavy as if his bones weighted more than they should, and he suspects it doesn’t have much to do with the intense practice they had today, but more about something he would rather not think of right now.
Someone pushes open the thin curtain separating the street from the local shop, and for a second, he hears some laughter and chatting coming from inside, right before a familiar voice breaks the nice, quiet silence of the night.
“I was lookin’ for ya,” Atsumu smiles, taking a quick look around as if he was expecting to see someone else. “Watcha doin’ out here all alone? It’s freezing.”
“I like the cold,” Kiyoomi grins, lying.
“ Bullshit ,” Atsumu shakes his head. “Ya hate the cold.”
Kiyoomi chuckles, resting his head back to close his eyes for a second. He can’t exactly tell Atsumu he went out because he couldn’t stand to see him with Kuroo for one more minute.
“I needed a little bit of peace and quiet. That’s it.”
“You’re always so cheerful, Omi-kun.” Atsumu mocks him, but his tone is softer when he adds, “C’mon. Come inside. Yer gonna freeze yer ass out here.”
Atsumu is already going for Kiyoomi’s arms to grab him, when Kiyoomi detaches himself from the wall, standing up straight to look back at him. Right behind Atsumu, lighted by the warm lights inside the izayaka, Kiyoomi can see Kuroo talking to Bokuto.
“ Atsumu ,” He says, clear as day even when his heart is thumping loudly in his chest. “Do you like him?”
Atsumu blinks up at him, confused “Hm? Who?”
Kiyoomi chuckles darkly, of course Atsumu is going to make him say it out loud.
“Kuroo,” Kiyoomi specifies. “Do you like him?”
Something shifts in the small distance between Atsumu’s body and his own. The warmth and chatter coming from the bar seem far away as he watches Atsumu turn around to look in the same direction Kiyoomi was just a moment ago.
The silence is excruciating, but the words coming out of Atsumu’s lips are worse
“Yeah,” Atsumu sighs, and Kiyoomi’s heart sinks. “I think so, I…” Atsumu turns back around to look at him with a soft gaze. “I haven’t had a crush in a while.”
Kiyoomi doesn’t know what he was expecting to hear, but somehow Atsumu’s reply doesn’t comfort him. The hard reality of his suspicions being confirmed tastes even bitter than the beer he was having earlier.
Still, he can’t help to snort about the irony of it all. “And you like that one?”
Right as he asks that, Atsumu turns around to catch Kuroo doing some sort of lame magic trick with his hands to a very easily impressed Bokuto. He snorts then too, and the tense atmosphere that had leaked all the way to Kiyoomi’s lungs suddenly eases just a bit.
“Don’t be such a bitch,” Atsumu says as his eyes return to look at him. “He’s not all that bad, ya know? He’s nice, and tall, and has pretty dark hair, and…” Atsumu comes to an abrupt stop, realizing what he’s implying.
“ And ?” Kiyoomi smiles with amusement. “Does he have moles too?”
Atsumu pouts like he does whenever Kiyoomi corners him.
“Fuck off. He’s nice .”
An honest laugh erupts from the depths of Kiyoomi’s chests as he shakes his head in disbelief, enjoying how Atsumu has started to blush furiously.
“First Kageyama, then me, and now this guy,” Kiyoomi counts with his fingers as he goes through his list, leaving just one single finger up to point it towards Atsumu, bopping his nose with it. “ You have a type.”
Atsumu’s eyebrows furrow in discontent, but the blush in his cheeks remains. Kiyoomi really likes that expression on him. As if he’s mad with him, but truly isn’t.
“What?” He sounds so offended, pushing Kiyoomi’s hand away entirely. “I do not have a type!”
“You do.”
“Do not!” Atsumu has always been such a terrible liar.
Kiyoomi steps closer, an old habit he can’t just quite let go of yet. “You like them tall, with dark hair, and good at volleyball.” He murmurs, taking his time to really appreciate Atsumu’s expression this close. “You’re easy to read, Atsumu.”
“You know what?” Kiyoomi raises a single eyebrow as if telling Atsumu go ahead. “Fuck you. I ain’t driving you home tonight.”
Just like that, the easy flow they had between them seems to break, reminding Kiyoomi why he stepped outside in the cold night in the first place.
He takes a step back. “You don’t need to. Hinata is driving me.”
Atsumu’s expression drops, and just as if on cue, Hinata emerges from the inside of the bar.
“ What ? Omi–”
“Omi-san!” Hinata’s voice rises above Atsumu’s. “Tobio is almost here, you ready? Oh– Atsumu-san! You’re coming with us too? Need a ride?”
Atsumu seems confused to say the least as he looks between them both, “What? No, no, I–”
“He won’t. He’s a bit… busy tonight.” Kiyoomi finishes it up for him. “It’s just me. Shall we go now?”
As heartbroken or annoyed as he might be with Atsumu, they’re still -sadly or gladly, Kiyoomi hasn’t decided yet– friends , and as such, he picks up his stupid call two days later right in the middle of their precious day off.
He knows there’s no point in ignoring Atsumu’s call anyway. He will call again.
“What is it?” Kiyoomi grumpily speaks into the phone. He was so close to falling asleep and taking a nap when his phone went off.
“It’s grocery shopping day,” Atsumu’s voice comes through the other side of the line. There’s a short pause, almost as if he’s considering something, then adds, “Ya’ coming?”
The small hesitation makes Kiyoomi’s heart ache. Atsumu has never asked if he’ll go or not, they just… they show up. It’s what they always do. It’s almost a given at this point.
The events of that night at the bar still play in Kiyoomi’s mind while he tries to decide his answer in a couple of seconds that feel like hours. He’s not hurt, not exactly. He isn’t mad either. He doesn’t know what to call the oppression in his chest for being apart from Atsumu, and the excruciating need to both pull him closer and keep him at bay.
It’s complicated, to say the least.
He does need groceries, though. His fridge is as empty as his chest sometimes feels.
“Yeah,” He finally replies. “See you in twenty.”
And so that’s how he finds himself in nothing but a matching grey sweatpants and hoodie set, pushing a semi-empty supermarket cart as he trails along behind Atsumu through the bread and baked section.
“Have ya tried this one yet?” Atsumu holds a new brand of full-grain bread up to Kiyoomi’s chin. Almost shoving it in his face. “I heard it’s good, but I dunno.”
Kiyoomi takes one single look at it. “No, I haven't.”
“ Hmm ,” Atsumu hums, puts it down, and picks up the same brand of bread he has been buying since they started grocery shopping together, throwing it into the cart.
Grocery shopping was a mundane task Kiyoomi didn’t really enjoy or think anything about. He has been going on grocery shopping trips alone since he moved out to Uni, but it wasn’t until he joined MSBY and met Atsumu, that his shopping trips turned into something more.
“Oi, Omi-kun!” Atsumu shouted from the end of the hall that day about four years ago. “Ya shop here too?”
Kiyoomi was tempted to say isn’t it obvious? He didn’t, though.
“Yes,” He simply replied. “You too?” He didn’t know why he felt compelled to ask that. It wasn’t like he cared.
Atsumu smiled nonetheless. “Yeah! It’s pretty close by. Just two blocks away. Ya’ live nearby too? This place has some super good…”
Back then, when they weren’t dating yet, grocery shopping days meant a chance to get to know each other.
When they got together, their little trips were almost like dates.
Now, they just represent the comforting nostalgia of the good old days. Something that somehow was still theirs.
“Grab one of those,” Kiyoomi points out as they slowly make their way through the rice and pasta section of the supermarket. “The integral one.”
“Ya still eat this? It tastes like nothing,” Atsumu grunts, but still grabs a bag and drops it in the cart.
Kiyoomi just shrugs “It helps with my bowel movements. Maybe you should try some.” He points out, but Atsumu ignores him as he always does whenever Kiyoomi suggests he improves his diet in any way.
Atsumu gently guides the front of the shopping cart to the next aisle, and Kiyoomi follows. The quiet chatter of the people around them, the typical commercial music playing through the speakers, and Atsumu’s mindless talk about every item he picks up, wraps Kiyoomi up in a familiar blanket.
This is something he knows. Something he likes doing. This is why they stayed friends, and why it is worth keeping. No one can quite make Kiyoomi so interested in cereals as Atsumu does.
“You like that now?” Kiyoomi makes a face as he watches Atsumu pick up some new sweet he’s never seen him eat.
“Oh yeah. Kuroo recommended it to me, it’s really good.” Atsumu says almost like an afterthought, so natural it stings Kiyoomi. “Ya should really try it.”
“No, thank you.” Kiyoomi grunts, trying very, very hard not to let this small thing ruin his good mood, but it’s useless.
It’s like Kiyoomi hadn’t realized up until that moment just how much Atsumu talks about Kuroo and he can’t just unsee it now.
They walk through another aisle, and Atsumu is rambling about how “Kuroo said we should try this protein yogurt. He said Bo really likes it so maybe we should try it too. I know ya’ struggle to take yer daily intake.”
Kiyoomu rounds the shopping cart to enter the snack section, and Atsumu is excitingly hoarding two boxes of dark chocolate and protein bars. “Here, for ya too. Kuroo brought them the other day, they’re delicious.”
It’s Kuroo this , and Kuroo that , and fucking , insufferable, Kuroo Tetsurou ends up taking over Kiyoomi’s mind like a dark cloud on an open field. Present and looming over his head, telling him very clearly something is coming.
“Okay, that’s it,” Kiyoomi says, picking up his grocery bags. “See you tomorrow at practice, then.”
“Wait- wait ,” Atsumu trails behind him with his own set of bags. “Yer leavin’ already?”
“We’re done with shopping?” Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah but coach Foster told us to watch the latest Addler’s match, remember? Did ya watch it already?”
Kiyoomi knows exactly where this conversation is going. His gut twists with the idea of lying to him.
He doesn’t tho, and is honest when he says, “No, I haven’t yet.”
Atsumu’s whole face lights up. “Good. We can watch it at my place then. I can cook us some ramen.”
Something inside him tells him to refuse the invite. To go home and end this… not-date right now. But his desire to share one more moment with Atsumu is stronger than his gut feeling.
“Yeah, sure.”
Kiyoomi thought he had it under control, he really, really did, but it’s all blowing up in his face as he comfortably sits on one end of Atsumu’s couch, Atsumu sitting beside him, and his stupid phone ringing every two seconds.
Everything seemed so normal as they made their way back to Atsumu’s apartment. The chains around his heart had loosened up as he helped Atsumu make some instant ramen, and by the time they sat down to watch the recording, he was back to feeling normal. His good mood came back almost entirely.
But that was about fifteen minutes ago. Before Atsumu’s phone started pinging relentlessly, making Kiyoomi lose his concentration every time it went off.
It is driving him insane, actually. Every time his phone rings, Kiyoomi thinks he’s one step closer to murdering. He doesn’t even know who Atsumu is talking to, but for the silly smile on his face, he has a good clue.
Kiyoomi hears Atsumu chuckle, type, and a few seconds later his phone rings again, just as Ushijima makes an incredible score on the TV.
“Can’t you put your phone in no disturb?” Kiyoomi grunts, keeping his eyes focused on the game recording happening before his eyes.
“Then how the fuck would I hear a new message comin’?”
“Put it on vibrate then.” Kiyoomi can hear his own disgust in his voice.
Atsumu apparently doesn’t. Or he’s very good at ignoring Kiyoomi’s tone.
“ It’s not the same,” Atsumu replies, and as in on cue, his phone rings .
The little, annoying sound snaps something deep inside Kiyoomi’s guts.
“We’re supposed to be watching this match,” Kiyoomi doesn’t know why he is so… upset about this. It’s just a match, a recording, it isn’t like they can’t just rewind it. He’s still scorching with anger though. “We have ours against them in a week, Atsumu.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know,” Atsumu whines, then sighs, deeply and dramatically, and Kiyoomi knows even before he talks, that he won’t like what he’s about to say. “I’m just trying to text Kuroo but–” Kiyoomi can’t help but roll his eyes. “Don’t do that!”
“I’m not doing anything.” He blatantly lies.
“You’re rolling your eyes,” Atsumu accuses him, and something about his tone makes the pit inside burn brighter.
“Because you’re being insufferable,” His tone is cold as ice, colder than he had intended.
Atsumu puts his phone down, visibly offended. “And you’re being an asshole. Can’t you just pause it for a second?”
Kiyoomi could, but he doesn’t want to.
“No. Pay fucking attention, or I’m leaving.”
“C’mon, don’t be such a prick. I swear I’ll be over soon! I’m just tryna decide where to invite Kuroo next–” Atsumu’s face lights up then, as he had a good idea. “Uh! Ya can help me with that. Ya know lots of cool places. Which one do ya think he would like? I’m thin–”
It’s like his whole body erupts with flames so wild he can’t put them down. Powerful and red, consuming every rational thought right out of Kiyoomi’s mind as it burns his way through his chest, his heart, his feelings.
Then it all cools down to an unsettling, numbing cold.
“You have to be fucking kidding me,” Kiyoomi mutters through his teeth.
“What? Just tell me some cool places, c’mon, Omi–”
“No.” Kiyoomi’s voice sounds stern, even to him. “If you’re not going to pay attention to the game, I’m leaving.”
He does pause the game then, standing up as he watches Atsumu struggle to take the blanket off of him and stop him before he leaves entirely.
“C’mon, Omi! Don’t leave. It’s just a game, we can rewind it and–”
“It’s not about the damn game,” Kiyoomi finally snaps, holding onto that cold, empty feeling in his chest, seeing it for what it really is: Heartbreak .
Bitter, numbing heartbreak that Atsumu has been putting him in for weeks now. A feeling so sharp it leaves him dull inside, so painful it clouds his mind, makes him want to scream at him for making him through this .
“Then what is it about?”
“ You !” The shock in Atsumu’s face when Kiyoomi says that doesn’t give him any relief at all. It pains him. “Can’t you hear yourself? Asking me for advice to date some guy you barely met. I’m your ex .”
“You’re my friend,” Atsumu weakly replies.
“And do you think that’s fair?” Kiyoomi’s voice crackles. Feelings he’s never dared to process are pouring out of his mouth in unfiltered yet real words. Atsumu seems frozen on the spot, but Kiyoomi continues, “Do you, Atsumu? Do you think it’s fair to break up with me but not have the balls to let me go? Do you think it’s fair to keep me here to watch you fall in love with someone else?”
Atsumu seems to be struggling to find his own words, and Kiyoomi can see tears prickling at his eyes. Good . He has been hurt enough.
“It’s selfish .” Kiyoomi pushes, his words low and paused and charged with emotions that are tearing him up inside. “This is not something friends do, Atsumu.”
The silence stretches far too much between them for Kiyoomi to expect any reply back. His feelings were put out in the open for Atsumu to see, and he didn’t get anything in return. He takes it as he cue to leave.
But then Atsumu speaks, in the softest, yet firmest voice ever.
“You haven’t let me go either.”
Kiyoomi stands still, looking back at him with his heart about to jump out of his throat.
“I broke up with you, but we both agreed it was for the best,” Atsumu continues. “We agreed to be friends, Omi. But you’ve been giving me mixed signals all this time. Friends also don’t do that.”
Kiyoomi can’t stop the words that come out of his mouth, tinted with pain and a reality they both didn’t dare to face before.
“Then I guess we can’t be friends.”
Saying that he feels like shit is an understatement.
Kiyoomi feels like the scum of the earth. Whatever that is lying beneath the deepest layer, he’s coming right after that. He’s a shitty, bad, horrible person, and he doesn’t know how to make it right .
The confrontation between him and Atsumu keeps replaying in his mind time and time again, making himself relive the words he didn’t quite mean. At least not entirely.
He was mad, and angry, and feeling so heartbroken he thought he would die, but he didn’t mean a quarter of what he said, even if he did feel it. Telling Atsumu out loud that they shouldn’t be friends made him realize almost instantly how badly he still wants to be friends.
No, not friends . How he wants to be Atsumu’s again.
It was both a shocking yet easy realization that left him standing up in the middle of his kitchen, processing everything he was feeling back then.
Now he knows it for certain now, at least. That he wants to be with Atsumu. He just doesn’t know how to bring it up.
He should probably start by apologizing, he thinks.
Opportunities to do so seem very rare, though. Days pass by until Kiyoomi finally manages to catch Atsumu before they leave practice. He picks up his bag and hangs it over his shoulder before he jogs behind Atsumu, trying to gather himself and act as normal as possible before he calls him out.
“Atsu! Wait. Do you have a minute?” The words come strange as if he’s trying a bit too hard. He’s almost scared Atsumu is still too mad at him to even acknowledge him.
Thankfully, Atsumu does turn back.
“Omi!” He takes Atsumu's smile as a good sign. He wouldn’t smile at him if he absolutely hated him, right?. “Yeah. What's up?”
It’s like all the courage he had gathered in the past few days slipped right out of him all the way to his feet. Apologizing in the middle of the gym seems a bit… dramatic . Not to mention he wants a chance to talk to him about what he really feels, and he is not about to confess to Atsumu in the middle of the court. They aren’t dumb teenagers with a crush anymore.
“I- hm . Do you wanna come by tonight?” Kiyoomi asks instead. “I was going to go over some match recordings and I have some leftover sushi, so…”
He lets his words linger as he watches Atsumu’s expression change from surprise to something else. Something he knows means he’s about to reject his invitation.
“ Shit – Omi, I would love to but I’m actually meeting with a friend tonight.” He looks genuinely sorry as he adds, “Maybe next time?”
Kiyoomi doubts there will be a next time.
“ Sure .”
Kiyoomi hasn’t been heartbroken in… well, since he was in high school and he was absolutely convinced Atsumu didn’t like him, but was rather in love with Hinata. So he does what he did back then, when he was 15 and stupid and had no clue what to do about Atsumu.
He called Komori.
“So Atsumu has a new boyfriend now?” Komori’s voice cuts through the phone just seconds after Kiyoomi spent about fifteen minutes filling him in on everything that has been going on for the past month and a half.
Kiyoomi stares at his bedroom ceiling, sighing.
“I don’t know. I think so, I-” He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to stop the impending headache. “They met at this stupid benefit party Meian made us all go and have been flirting ever since. I don’t– I don’t know if they’re officially dating yet but I can’t-”
“ So you don’t know if they’re actually dating ,” Komori presses, making Kiyoomi frown at the ceiling. Is he not listening to him right now?
“I told you, I don’t know. I think so, I–”
“You really are stupid sometimes, aren’t you?” Komori chuckles through the phone, making Kiyoomi sit up straight.
“What?”
Komori’s stupid laugh coming from the other line makes him feel silly. As if he can see something Kiyoomi can’t. His frown grows deeper.
“Kiyoomi,” Komori says, slowly. “Are Atsumu and Kuroo dating?”
“ No .” He grunts.
“Okay. Then what the hell are you crying about?” Kiyoomi is weirdly shaken by Komori’s words, as if he had just slapped him through the phone. “It’s not like the guy is married or something. He’s barely flirting with some guy. Go ahead and flirt harder, you dumbass.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You have to be out of your damn mind,” Kiyoomi murmurs, but he can’t deny the excitement thumping through his veins.
“Listen. You can stay where you are and cry about Atsumu all you want, and I’ll listen to you and help you get over your poor little broken heart, or you can, you know , do something about it. Show Atsumu you can treat him better than that Kuroo guy or whatever.” Komori says as if it’s that easy.
As if Kiyoomi can just put himself together and convince Atsumu they should get back together. That they should be the ones dating, not him and Kuroo.
“What do you suggest I do?” He asks, besides his better, smart part of himself telling him he probably shouldn’t have called Komori for this.
“Well, I think you should ask them if they’re a serious thing first, you know? You don’t wanna be a home breaker. Or maybe you do, I don’t know.” Komori adds almost like a second thought.
“ I don’t. ” Kiyoomi points out.
“Good, then just ask him. If he says yes, you’re screwed,” Kiyoomi’s chest sinks at that, but then Komori just continues. “If he says no, then that’s your chance.”
“To do what?” Kiyoomi pouts to no one in particular.
“Shit, Kiyo, I don’t know! To ask him out. Hold his hand. Make Kuroo jealous. Whatever you wanna do to get him back.”
Kiyoomi weighs his words for a minute. It isn’t like him to just sit things through instead of seeing them through the end, and he’s pretty sure things with Atsumu aren’t done just yet.
He must be a goddamn fool for taking Komori’s advice, and yet he finds himself nodding with the phone glued to his ear. A new thrill running through his veins, something that feels like hope.
“Yeah. Okay, okay.”