Archive of Our Own

Beneath my skin, deep down in my heart, I still sing my love song for you. —Alexandra Vasiliu

The underling of a very powerful kumicho and the personal assassin of another laid in a tangle of limbs and sheets, skin against skin, heartbeats in sync. Atsumu was tracing constellations with the moles on Kiyoomi's shoulders and chest while the taller between the two played with the other's soft, dyed strands.

"Say, Omi-kun." Atsumu whispered, still mindlessly caressing the other's skin.

Kiyoomi hummed in question, watching the blonde's lashes flutter as his lids shut for a moment with how soothing the constant, gentle strokes on his scalp were. He chuckled inwardly at the thought of his lover resembling a cat at that moment if the near purring was any indication.

"What is it, love?" He mumbled, leaning closer to leave a peck on Atsumu's nose. Atsumu smiled, pausing in his stroking to study the other's face from his curly locks to the two moles above his strong brow to his dark, soulful eyes to his strong nose and finally down to his full lips. Sometimes Atsumu couldn't believe he could call such an otherworldly beautiful man his—couldn't believe the man had actually returned his feelings in full.

"You'd kill anyone, right?"

Kiyoomi arched a brow, unsure where his lover's question stemmed from. "If ordered to or if necessary, yes. Why?"

Atsumu hummed, cuddling closer to the other's warmth, going back to tracing galaxies on Kiyoomi's skin. The taller wrapped his arms tighter around the blonde's waist, pulling him flush against him.

"Would'ya kill me? If yer boss ordered ya to?"

Kiyoomi felt something dark twist in his heart. "Our bosses are in a good partnership, I see no reason for him to suddenly want your head in a basket."

"Ey, c'mon. Humor me."

Kiyoomi sighed, burying his nose into comforting peppermint. "Hypothetically speaking, if the boss finally gets tired of your dumbass attitude and orders me to dispose of you, then I guess I wouldn't have any choice."

Atsumu let out a gasp, a mock scandalized look on his face as he moved away from the other to look up at him. "Omi, after everything we've been through."

Kiyoomi reached up to flick the other's nose, enjoying hearing him whine like the slightly sadistic person that he was. "It won't come to that, idiot."

"I know! Just a bit curious. Glad to know ya willing to kill me so quickly. Mean , Omi Omi, so mean."

Kiyoomi kissed the pout on Atsumu's face away easily. "It will never come to that. And if it does, which it won't , I'd easily choose to protect you."

Atsumu smiled, which Kiyoomi honestly thought was a sin with how beautiful and bright it was in the dim light of the moon shining through the window. He sweetly cupped the taller's face to pull him down for a silent, earth shattering kiss.

"I love you, Kiyoomi." Atsumu whispered with all the love he had and a little bit more.

"As do I, love. As do I." Kiyoomi leaned in for another kiss. "We should really head to sleep, though. The bosses want us at the base by 11."

Atsumu groaned, already turning around to let the other hug him from behind. "Quit ruining such nice moments, Omi-kun!"

"Be quiet, the world is sleeping, which is what we should be doing too."

There was nothing other than their breathing and the chittering of cicadas outside.

"Omi-kun?"

Atsumu heard the other let out a small groan. "What now, love?"

He chuckled softly, gripping the other's arm around his waist. "Sing me a song."

"I've told you countless times I'm not a singer."

"But I like how your voice sounds. Please, Omi Omi?"

“No.”

“Even for me, Omi-kun?”

A few heartbeats. The taller was certain the blonde had that petulant pout of his and wide, puppy eyes on his face.

"Fine." Kiyoomi sighed.

Why are there so many songs about rainbows

And what's on the other side?

Rainbows are visions, but only illusions

And rainbows have nothing to hide

So we've been told, and some choose to believe it

I know they're wrong, wait and see

 

Kiyoomi focused on the warmth of Atsumu's skin against his, the other's even breathing, and the steady beat of his heart.

Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection

The lovers, the dreamers, and me

 

The two had drifted off into a peaceful slumber as dawn began to settle in. They woke a few hours later to the cloudless sky and an unknown future.

It was many months later when a small dispute between the kumicho's had people choosing sides until it grew into an all-out war. Truthfully, the rest of the world was barely disturbed, but it was their world— their little, safe haven of love and comfort— that was crumbling much like an empire would crumble into the sea.

The two stood barely 5 feet apart. The street was littered with a few dozen bodies and the building behind them was on fire. But none of it compared to the raging embers in each other’s eyes.

“Ya gonna kill me, Omi-kun?” Atsumu chuckled, unshed tears glazing his eyes and a bittersweet curl in his smile. Kiyoomi’s grip on his gun tightened.

“Don’t make this hard for us, Atsumu.”

“I won’t.”

Atsumu clicked the safety of his gun, dropped it to his feet, and kicked it away. The other watched with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?”

The old light in Atsumu’s eyes was long gone, hidden behind flame and death and carnage. “Deciding for the both of us.”

Kiyoomi shut his eyes, forcing back the tears and ignoring the stinging of his eyes and heart. “Love, please. I don’t want to do this. We could still—”

“It won’t end. Omi. even if we leave, they’ll hunt us down and separate us and kill us. The fight won’t end. But if,” Atsumu choked on his words, forcing a smile. “If only I die— if I die now, then it ends. A done, good deal.” he laughed, a painful, hollow sound. “Better the lap dog than the treasured gem, eh?”

Kiyoomi glared at him, every fiber in him shaking with a thousand emotions he couldn’t process. “Don’t you fucking dare make it seem like your life is any less valuable than mine.”

“But it is, Omi-kun. Always has been.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” Atsumu choked again, taking a deep breath through a sob. He looked to the sky and sighed. “I guess ya were right, back then.”

“ Fuck you , Atsumu.”

The blonde looked back at him with a bright smile. “I love you, Kiyoomi. I’m really glad I get to die at yer hands.”

“ Shut up .” the other growled, vibrating with rage as tears finally began to flow freely. He watched, unmoving, as Atsumu advanced towards him.

“Sorry though, I guess the wedding’s on hold for a while.”

“Shut up, you fucking asshole! Just shut up !”

Kiyoomi’s knees nearly gave out on him if it weren’t for Atsumu grabbing him by the cheeks, his touch so unfairly gentle despite it all. Kiyoomi had always wondered how hands that killed so brutally could love so tenderly - it was because even in love, the other was always brutal. He dug himself a hole through the walls of Kiyoomi’s heart and wreaked havoc within his mind.

“Do your job, Omi.”

“Stop, love, please ,” Kiyoomi had never begged. But had realised that loving the other brought a lot of firsts.

“Do it.” Atsumu said, voice and gaze unwavering.

“Damn you, Miya.” Kiyoomi wanted to shove the other, to push and kick and punch, but he could barely even breathe. Atsumu winked, a little bit of light coming back to his eyes. “Likewise, Sakusa.”

Kiyoomi was about to retort when Atsumu pulled him in for a kiss that had oceans rising to the heavens and the ground shaking. It was a kiss of love, of regret, of passion, of farewell. When they pulled away, Kiyoomi was about to speak again when he felt one of Atsumu’s hands grip his own— the one holding the gun. Whispered words were lost in the wind when Atsumu pulled the trigger.

The shot was loud, but it was the deafening silence right after which spoke with the loudest volume.

Kiyoomi suddenly remembered every moment with Miya Atsumu. He remembered, when they first met, he had beaten Atsumu at a traditional sword fight. He remembered the first time Atsumu had learnt his first name and had decided to call him ‘Omi-kun’ just to spite him. He remembered all the days they spent begrudgingly working together— days that blended into nights until they were together till early morning curled up messy sheets and sporting bruised skin. The day they almost died was something Kiyoomi would never forget, but he guessed things worked out after considering it took a near-death experience for the two of them to stop fucking around and finally confess.

Death— such a funny thing it is. Merciless, draining, unchoosing.

Kiyoomi remembered a certain night nearly a year back when Atsumu confided in him about something that seemed so irrelevant, perhaps even a bit cynical, which he had slowly begun to believe in.

“Eh, Omi-kun.”

“What, Miya?”

“D’ya think soulmates exist?”

“Where the fuck did that come from?”

“C’mon! Just answer me!”

“Fine, no.”

“Pfft, you’re no fun.”

“Never said I was.”

“Well, I , on the other hand, think they could be real! Can ya imagine? Someone being made just for ya and you being made just for them, meeting them and falling in love and everything would just fall into place and it would be, eh, everything would finally feel right , I guess.”

“Didn’t peg you as the romantic type.”

“Oi, even street rats like me can dream.”

Kiyoomi remembered it all, he tried to remember it all, he forced himself to remember it all— because the alternative was much too painful. It was in a random street in front of a random building that Kiyoomi had to watch the love of his life bleed to death. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but judging from the hoarseness of his voice and the growing puddle of blood around him, he wasn’t sure if it was minutes or millenia. He cradled Atsumu closer to him, brushing away a few stray blonde strands with blood drenched fingertips. Softly, he began to sing— a song he dedicated to the man who was his first, last, and right.

Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection

The lovers, the dreamers, and me