SakuAtsu - slight angst (jealousy) + happy ending. Last year of high school Kiyoomi pining over Atsumu but when he finally decides to ask for his number at the end of the Spring Tournament, he walks in on him receiving a confession for a girl and her stupid box of chocolate.
She's cute, she's small, no moles, she's delicate, and clearly her wrists don't bend awkwardly when she holds that heavy box of chocolat. Nope. Kiyoomi turns around before Atsumu sees him because even if he doubts the pretty setter can see through masks, Kiyoomi feels like his
entire face is on fire. It's awful, that impression of needing to peel your skin off because you're feeling like it's about to melt. And the prickling in his cheeks won't stop, and his eyes burn. He finds himself heading for a secluded hallway where a fountain stands and gets
a little aggressive when he opens the tap. Clearly that girl wouldn't be rough with that tap but Kiyoomi only sees that after splashing some cool water... all over his mask. It's mortifying. Embarrassing. Devastating that he's so distraught about what he just saw that
he forgot to remove his mask. His heart won't stop hammering in his chest. It was just a phone number. He got to see Miya a whole week. They played together. They'll cross paths on other courts in the next years when Kiyoomi joins the v.league. Stop. BEATING! Stupid heart!
Does this girl have a heart? She must, if she was so eager to offer it to Miya. So that's one thing he has in common with her. The only thing Kiyoomi doesn't need right now. Absolutely priceless. He throws the drenched mask in the nearest trash and doesn't care about being
aggressive or not - doesn't care about looking lame. No one will see, if for /once/ in his life, Sakusa Kiyoomi is a quitter, if for once he doesn't go through with his little plans. He can be lame. It's not like anyone is looking, anyway. "Kiyoomi-kun! Oi! Ki—um... Omi-kun!"
Kiyoomi entirely freezes, his whole body going very still. For as hot as he felt up until now, his blood just ran cold. No one was supposed to see. "Where are ya—Hey! Will ya stop?!" Miya Atsumu is stubborn. Fixating. Demanding. Kiyoomi has a crush on the worst person, uh?
But he does have a crush, a desperate one, and Kiyoomi can't move or flee. Instead his body commits high treason and he turns on his feet until he's facing Miya who's catching up on him. Box of chocolate secured against his chest. Kiyoomi's feels like there's a hole in it.
He has nothing to offer to Miya, apart maybe from his irrational need to punch him in the face. Kiyoomi lost to her already, even if he doesn't act on that stupid, unfair impulse. Miya doesn't seem to mind, skidding in front of him with a blinding grin and a dramatic frown.
"I saw ya back there but ya totally ignored me, so rude!" Miya finally opens his mouth. "Lettin' me deal with that embarrassin' stuff, seriously? Damn I hate when they come for me instead of 'Samu I swear I never know what to tell them." "You..." Miya takes a lot of space.
That ugly box of chocolates in his arms does too. So does the horrendous pink ribbon around it. So does Miya's diatribe that Kiyoomi barely has time to follow that the idiot is back at ranting: "So awkward! And I called yer ass to rescue me but yer fuckin' fast, ya know that?
Disappearing when it gets a little tricky, don't ya? Can't blame ya, but that wasn't cool. It took me twice as much time at turnin' her down. Ya could have scared her away with THAT look, for real, WHERE were ya—" "You kept the chocolate." Kiyoomi wishes he had swallowed his
own tongue but he's always been like that. He's not a cute girl who repeats her love confession in front of a mirror, stages the words she'll choose in front of her crush, measuring carefully what comes out of his mouth. Kiyoomi is blunt. Rough on the edges. And in front of
Miya - who's carrying a box full of the testimony that someone he's disgunstingly in love with him - Kiyoomi can only vomit words that don't make sense. No matter how hard he forces himself to go over the words he has heard. That girl probably had a more functional brain too.
And if Kiyoomi hadn't start to take Miya's accusations in... maybe he'd get heated again and think that's exactly why Miya kept the box. But it's not the reason, right? Kiyoomi remembers Miya teasing him for frying his brain more than once. Miya /knows/ Kiyoomi's brain is
perfectly functional. His shoulders relax, just slightly. But they do. Kiyoomi is suddenly surprised by the cold air flooding through his nostrils. Oh, right. Breathing. That's a thing. "Oh. I mean. Sure," Miya eventually answers. He looks at the box, confused.
Kiyoomi's breath catches sharply. Not so easy, then... "She was too embarrassed to get them back and..." Or maybe it is, Kiyoomi realizes as he exhales shakily. He hates the way his mind is racing under the highs and lows of the most mundane conversation. But Miya didn't keep
them out of passion, romantism or love. He didn't even keep them by compassion. That pink ribbon is the uggliest thing Kiyoomi ever laid eyes on, he decides as he gestures vaguely at the space behind Miya, looking away resolutely. "I see. Well, the trash is over th—"
"I just thought I could share them with ya." Miya is blunt. Rough on the edges. Time seems to stop in that secluded corridor. Kiyoomi is way past trying to figure out how to breathe, because that will be a luxury he can only afford if his heart doesn't betray him.
"It's stupid nevermind. You must be headin' back to the bus. Ya guys are leavin', right?" Kiyoomi is used to a world that can't keep up with the fuming cogs in his head, but it's the first time he can't catch up to his own brain. But he wills himself to. His heart tells him to.
"N—Miya, I—No." That sounds really, really bad. Worse than a kid or a drunkard. Worse than the guy Kiyoomi wants to be around Miya — no matter how much he likes to think Miya doesn't affect the way he behaves. "We're not leaving yet." That is a more articulate. But quite dead.
How can Kiyoomi sound so dead with the chaotic storm wrecking his insides right now? How can he feel so dead when Miya... Miya just said he wanted to share some chocolate with him? With Kiyoomi? He feels faint, and hates himself for it. Yet, despite the flat tune of his voice
and how lame he must look, Miya starts smiling again. Too bright, too big. That girl must have been blinded too. They now have two things in common. But only her chocolate box remains. "Brilliant!" Miya explains. "Stay with me then? I'm not runnin' after yer ass twice today."
He's obnoxious, and tenacious. But so lovely too, Kiyoomi thinks as Miya throws the box between them with a dramatic little bow. "I... yeah. Yeah, I'll stay a bit." Another burst of heat spread through Kiyoomi's face, down to his nape as he looks at the box. Shame.
She's long gone. Her, her cute features, no moles, her delicacy, nothing's left but a bitter memory and a mask dripping at the bottom of a trashcan. It's seems surreal that Kiyoomi can crack a smile. But he does, a tiny one. But genuine. "I'll just pass on the chocolates."
"Awesome, more for me!" Miya brandishes a fist in the air. No marching band to play a love song, nor to stop when he brings it back down. Miya just looks like the stupid eighteen years old Kiyoomi has been trying to get the number of for ages. It's very mundane. Kiyoomi
is content. From the inside, it feels like the wildest ride he's ever been on. "But it's awesome that yer stayin' too, I mean... that ya wanna stay a bit, it's cool—ahem!" Miya's mouth keeps running and he has to clear his throat. Kiyoomi still hopelessly blushes at the words.
This time, his brain conveniently reminds him that he did remove his mask. That Miya can see the redness on his nose, the pink tinting his cheeks. They'll have plenty of time to cross paths again when Kiyoomi joins the v.league in a few years but maybe they can start now.
Maybe it starts now with "stayin' a bit". Kiyoomi is the last person who'd dare keeping his hopes high but if the matching blush on Miya's face means anything... Staying a bit now is the right way to start. They stand awkwardly there for a few too long seconds.
In case Kiyoomi's brain was kind enough to try and make him forget how embarrassing this all was. But then Miya lands back on his feet. Kiyoomi doesn't know how he does that. How he pushes past his own self-consciousness to say: "Anyway! Wanted to talked about the match!"
Kiyoomi doesn't know how Miya can reach out and grab the sleeve of his jacket to drag him along as he walks away. How he keeps talking when words are stuck in Kiyoomi's mouth. "Ya didn't need to hit me in the face in that second set. Oh! And ya need to give me yer number,
before I forgot. If that's okay with ya?" Kiyoomi's footing falters but he doesn't stop. In a movie, he'd probably find his wits again and tell Miya there's no way, that he's too annoying for Kiyoomi to want to give him his number. But they're in the dull corridor of a giant
gymnasium. Kiyoomi lost his wits with his soaked mask and it might be fine. "Sure." Sure. Kiyoomi walked in on Miya receiving a confession today and he's probably light years away from his own, but looking back on how terrifying this has been, their story can start with that.
Miya's hand glides along Kiyoomi's jacket as they head toward secluded stairs. Until it suddenly grips the material harder again, staying just above Kiyoomi's wrists. The blush on Miya's face has bloomed twice harder now but he doesn't let go. Sure. Kiyoomi's not cute nor
delicate and his wrist bends weirdly when he angles his hand back to brush Miya's digits until he gets the cue and threads them with Kiyoomi's fingers. But Kiyoomi's holding hands with Miya and something tells him they'll cross paths time and time again. /Fin (not for them)🥺♥
