Chapter Text
As Atsumu had predicted, it gets awkward after that.
They barely see Sakusa because he spends most of his days and nights doing god knows what in god knows where, probably going overdrive and asking Meian for something new to do, right after finishing off the job he’d just been given.
Atsumu remembers being like that, remembers all of them being like that at one point, whenever they were at the peak of their desperation. So, out of concern from the goodness of his heart (“Ya just wanna get yer dick wet again” Osamu scoffs), he knocks on the man’s door a few times, offering food or a beer, but he’s always left unanswered.
The next time Atsumu actually sees him, it’s in the hallway over a week after the night they slept together and it’s safe to say, he looks like shit. He seems to have at least earned himself enough money to buy some cheap new clothes and he doesn’t look like he’s starving, but he is covered in cuts and bruises and he doesn’t look like he’s been getting any decent sleep.
“Ya really gonna ignore me over a little sex, Omi-kun?” Atsumu says quietly, just as they cross paths.
He pauses in his tracks.
“Dunno if that’s a good move, y’know. I don’t think ya know how to survive on yer own in a place like this. No one does, at first.”
“Mind your business.” Sakusa says hoarsely, trudging on.
Atsumu wishes he could’ve at least seen the expression on his face. Because Sakusa Kiyoomi’s pretty damn good at sounding like he means what he says.
That same night, when Osamu walks into the front door of their apartment with grocery bags in hand, he catches Atsumu climbing into the living room from their window, looking furious.
“The hell crawled up yer ass ‘n died?” Osamu asks.
“He fixed his window lock.” Atsumu says, like it’s the betrayal of the century. “That fuckin’ bastard got a goddamn lock on his window.”
Osamu blinks. “Good for him. Now, people like you can stop tryin’ to climb up his window to be gay and do crime.”
“No, you don’t get it. He’s just doin’ this because he had sex with me.” Atsumu explains.
He pauses.
“I think that says more about you than him.” Osamu laughs, “Damn, how bad of a lay are ya if ya got him lockin’ his fuckin’ windows?”
“Fuckin’—” Atsumu starts, but cuts himself off with a calming breath. “I don’t know why I even tried. Yer useless. I’m goin’ to Shoyo’s. I heard he hangs around there a lot with Big C.”
“Steal some of their tissue rolls while yer at it, will ya? I forgot to get some!” Osamu calls out as Atsumu opens the front door.
“Duh!”
Hinata Shoyo, eighteen years old, he’s been with the MSBY since he was fifteen. He used to live with his mother and a younger sister. Three years ago, his sister ran away with a boyfriend and a few months after that, his mother died of a drug overdose.
Kageyama Tobio, eighteen years old, came in with Hinata. He used to live with his physically and verbally abusive father and older sister. Never met his mother. His sister moved to America with her girlfriend when she graduated high school after being kicked out by their father for her lesbianism, and after what happened to Hinata, he followed suit, leaving home in the night and leaving nothing but a goodbye, you can go fuck yourself note for his father in his wake.
Now, three years later, Hinata Shoyo is one of MSBY’s most beloved. He’s a natural. He’s fast, he’s strong, and he looks and acts too innocent to be a criminal. Because of it, although there have been a few close calls, he’s never been caught.
Kageyama Tobio is good with his fists and good with guns. One of the only two guys in the Gay Unit who’s actually killed. He’s only done it once and only because he didn’t have a choice. That was their first experience with the saying kill or be killed .
(Atsumu was there on that job and so was Osamu. Kageyama was the only one who was able to gather up the nerve to do it. All they could do was rub his back when he threw up afterwards. It wasn’t a fun day.)
“Atsumu-san!” Hinata yells cheerfully, swinging his door wide open, “Come on in! You came in at just the right time! We just baked cookies! Normal ones, no weed, so don’t worry!”
“They’re burnt, though.” Kageyama calls out from somewhere in the kitchen, “You can come and have some if you don’t mind them tasting like ass.”
“I like ass.” Atsumu smiles, letting himself in.
He always has to remind himself of who they are. It’s hard to believe they’d been through what they’d been through and done all the things they’ve done by the way they carried themselves.
“So, count me in.” He says, “I gotta talk to ya guys about somethin’, anyway.”
“By something, you mean Sakusa-san?” Hinata clarifies with a knowing smile.
Atsumu raises an eyebrow. “Has he been talkin’ about me? I didn’t know he cared about me that much.”
“Not so much talking as it is asking a bunch of questions that we don’t have any answers to.” Kageyama says, entering the living room bringing a tray of black cookies, using a towel as mittens. “All done while cuddling with Big C, by the way. He took a piss on his foot, at one point. Big C did. Not Sakusa. It was really funny.”
“Diggin’ into my personal life, huh.” Atsumu sighs, making himself comfortable on their couch. “Funny hearin’ that, when he’s been avoidin’ me like the plague.”
“Oh no, what’d you do this time?” Hinata asks, sounding genuinely concerned. “Did you make fun of his new clothes that look too tight on him? ‘Cause he’s really touchy about it.”
“No. What? No, that’s— fuck, that’s kinda funny, actually. I’ll make sure to make fun of him for it next time. Anyway,” Atsumu says, shaking his head to get Sakusa Kiyoomi in a skintight shirt out of his mind. “I was gonna ask if he’s told ya anythin’ about himself. Or if you’ve… y’know, noticed anythin’ off.”
“He asks about you, you ask about him...” Kageyama complains, taking a bite out of a cookie and making an ugly face. He chews it, anyway. “Why don’t you two just talk to each other?”
“I would if he wasn’t bein’ so fuckin’ weird.” Atsumu defends himself, “I’m askin’ because I wanna know why he’s bein’ weird.”
“He doesn’t talk to us about anything.” Hinata shrugs, “He talks to Big C, though.”
What? Fuck.
“He… talks to Big C.” Atsumu repeats and tries to ignore what that statement is doing to his heart.
Hinata nods enthusiastically. “He talks to him quietly and everything, while Tobio and I watch TV. We can hear him a little bit sometimes. He likes to talk about his day. He complains about work and people a lot. Once, I heard him whine about how he got kicked in the stomach so hard he swears it left a permanent footprint on his skin.”
Dramatic, Atsumu thinks.
“It’s usually just trivial stuff like that, but…” Kageyama drifts off, “I did hear him say something that I’ve been thinking about the past few days.”
“Oh, yeah. That.” Hinata nods.
“What? What’s that?” Atsumu asks, looking back and forth between the two.
“He said… I’m gonna do better than that.” Kageyama says, doing a bad imitation of Sakusa’s voice, before taking another bite of his cookie. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean and I didn’t hear what he was talking about before that, but it stuck with me.”
“‘Cause it’s a pretty good reminder, right? Do better! Give yourself better! We should always do better for ourselves, am I right?” Hinata says.
“I’m gonna do better than that…” Atsumu repeats softly to himself.
I’m gonna do better than that.
Do better than what? Do better than who?
__
He and Osamu usually collapse the second they get home after work and tonight was no different. Atsumu was punched in the face by a customer today for putting too much Vodka in his cocktail.
You’re a fucking inconvenience, he’d said. And then Atsumu laughed, half because the guy reminded him a lot of his dad and half because he was kind of right.
Hell yeah, drunk stranger. Say it with your fucking chest. His entire life is an inconvenience.
Atsumu would’ve beat him up if he wasn’t trying to keep his job and he knows Osamu would’ve, too. But alas…
What an inconvenience it is to be a decent person in the world they live in.
He’d been looking forward to sleeping the entire night away, only to be awoken less than an hour into his slumber. Based on personal experience, someone knocking on their door past 4AM has never meant anything good, so Atsumu takes his gun as he approaches.
He only opens it wide enough to peek out, and what he sees makes his breath catch in his throat.
He swings it wide open. “Omi? What the fuck?”
Atsumu’s instincts tell him to call an ambulance or something, but he remembers where they are, who they are, and what Sakusa had probably just been doing. Instead, he gently pulls him in.
His shirt is covered in so much blood that Atsumu can only hope it isn’t all his own. He can barely even stand up straight, limping with his hand clutching onto his side.
“What happened?” He asks, dragging him to the couch.
“Job.” Sakusa wheezes, grimacing in pain as he slowly sits himself down, “Got stabbed.”
Atsumu instantly crouches down, lifting Sakusa’s shirt to reveal his stomach. He was, indeed, stabbed. Thankfully, it isn’t as bad as he thought it would be.
“It’s not that deep, I’ve had worse.” Atsumu says, hurrying to the bathroom for their first aid kit. “Gimme a second and keep pressin’ onto the wound.”
“It hurts like a fucking bitch.” Sakusa groans.
“Course it does, ya got fuckin’ stabbed.” Atsumu says, returning with the kit. “Keep yer shirt lifted.”
Sakusa does what he’s asked, but being in pain doesn’t stop him from complaining.
“Do you even know what you’re doing, Miya?”
“Samu and I have been stabbed so many times, I’m surprised we’re still alive.” He retorts, opening a bottle of disinfectant. “Bite somethin’ ‘n try not to scream.”
Sakusa lifts his shirt higher, bunching it up, and then shoving it into his own mouth.
“This is gonna sting.” Atsumu warns. “A lot.”
“Ju’ hurry up.” Sakusa says, muffled.
Atsumu wastes no time, disinfecting the wound as fast as he can. Sakusa doesn’t scream, but he does swear into his shirt and though he can’t make sense of all of the words, Atsumu can tell they’re pretty vulgar. He’s also sweating bullets and Atsumu would find it sexy if he didn’t have a puncture wound on the side of his stomach.
“Okay. Good news, the worst part is over.” He says, putting the disinfectant away and pulling out some ointment and bandages. “Bad news, this’ll sting too but only a little bit.”
“Fuck you.” Sakusa pants, throwing his head against the backrest of the couch, “Don’t you fucking touch me again.”
“Sorry, Omi-kun. It’s for yer own good.” He says, genuinely feeling bad as he applies the ointment and Sakusa hisses. “What job were ya doin’ anyway?”
“None of your business.” He says, closing his eyes. “You done?”
“Just gotta cover it up now.” Atsumu comforts, “How’re ya feelin’?”
“Like shit.”
Atsumu makes quick work of the bandages with expert hands, and then pats Sakusa’s thigh when he’s done.
“Yer all good. Ya gotta keep changin’ the dressing though, or else it’s gonna get infected and that won’t be pretty.”
Sakusa makes a move to stand back up, but Atsumu gently pushes him down by his shoulder. “Just spend the night. Ya look like yer ‘boutta collapse.”
Atsumu knows he’s tired when the man doesn’t even fight him on it. “Lend me a fucking blanket, then.”
They don’t have a decent extra blanket. But he figures he’s lived through the cold weather longer than Sakusa has, and lends him his for the night.
Atsumu helps him as he tries to lay on the couch, pulling the covers up to his chin.
Sakusa sighs once he’s comfortable. “I’m good. Go back to your room.”
“Thanks so much for the help, Atsumu. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Atsumu. How can I ever repay you?”
Sakusa opens his eyes to glare at him. “What do you want? A fuckin’ thank you blowjob?”
Atsumu perks up at the offer. “You’d do that?”
“No, you perverted asswipe. Fucking go back to bed.” Sakusa retorts.
Atsumu pouts at him. “ Fine. Guess it’s on me for lettin’ ya into my house and cleanin’ yer goddamn wounds for free, after ya fuck me then ignore me for a week.”
The injured man visibly tenses at that.
“Fucks me, comes to me for help…” He mumbles angrily to himself as he arranges the first aid kit, “Won’t even talk to me or tell me shit about himself.”
Atsumu huffs grumpily as he stands up to put the first aid kit back to where it was, when suddenly he hears a low, almost inaudible voice go, “Pot Roast.”
Atsumu stops in his tracks, turning around slowly.
“Pot Roast? Wh— are ya hungry? ‘Cause we don’t have any fuckin’ pot—”
“No.” Sakusa sighs exasperatedly, keeping his eyes closed. “I have a dog back at home. I had him for over ten years. He was the only good thing about that place. Only one I knew I’d miss. I wanted to take him with me, but I knew he was better off there. Mom always spoiled him and I wouldn’t have been able to take care of him, he’d probably have died. His name… it’s Pot Roast.”
“Oh.”
Atsumu blinks rapidly, not knowing what to say to that and why Sakusa was talking about this at all. His instant bond with The Big C makes more sense now, though.
“Cute name. I’m sorry ya couldn’t take him.”
“There. I told you shit about myself.” Sakusa says, wincing as he slightly turns to his side. “Happy now?”
Atsumu’s never been more grateful for the darkness. Because he knows the dopey smile that makes its way to his face couldn’t have been stopped even if he tried.
“G’night, Omi-Omi.”
It’s quiet but it’s clear when those words are returned with a, “Night, Atsumu.”
Instead of returning to his room, he crawls into Osamu’s bed to steal the covers. His brother groans and stirs, but is obviously used to the invasion as he instinctively scoots and makes room for his brother.
“The fuck’re ya doin’?” He asks, groggily.
“Omi’s on the couch. Got stabbed doin’ a job.” Atsumu explains. “Lent him my blanket.”
Osamu makes an unintelligible noise. “He alright?”
“Yeah.” Atsumu says, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. “Samu, y’know what… I think they’re all wrong about him.”
“What d’ya mean?” Osamu asks back, but Atsumu can tell that he’s only half awake. He answers him, anyway.
“I don’t think he’s angry.” Atsumu says, recalling the unfamiliar way Sakusa Kiyoomi sounded as he talked about his pet dog.
He didn’t sound like some battle hardened, tough, trained criminal. He didn’t even sound like a man at all. Instead, he sounded the way they all did once, when they’d first ended up here.
He just sounded like a kid.
“He’s not just angry, Samu.” Atsumu says faintly as he closes his eyes, “He’s really fuckin' sad.”
__
Sometimes, in the mornings, in that place tiptoeing the line between sleep and wake, in that fleeting moment right before you start forgetting whatever you were dreaming about, Sakusa forgets.
He forgets where he is.
For a moment, he thinks he’s going to wake up in his comfortable, old, warm room. The heater works. The bathroom is clean. Pot Roast is sleeping right next to his bed. And he doesn’t have to worry about whether or not he’ll get to eat that day. Get up, eat, shower, change, school, home, study, sleep, get up, eat, shower, change, school, home, study, sleep, get up— and his parents are there.
Then, he wakes up and he’s back in MSBY. He’s back in Unit 402-A, where the room is always freezing, the street is never quiet, he’ll probably eat breakfast around 4PM so it can also count as lunch and dinner, and he doesn’t know what kind of shit lies ahead.
Which law does he have to break today? How many of the people he’s stolen from had families they needed to support? How many of the men he pointed his gun at are traumatized for the rest of their lives? How many addictions has he fed, how many kids or spouses are sobbing right now, because he’d sold some old abusive dickwad some more fucking smack?
You can’t keep thinking about everyone else, Sakusa-kun, Meian had said. We’re all just doing what we have to do to survive. Keep thinking and you’ll only drive yourself insane.
In his dreams, he’s living comfortably but he’s with his parents. And when he wakes up, he’s sore, tired, and a criminal. But he’s free.
He’s still trying to figure out which of those two is the nightmare.
Sakusa Kiyoomi, nineteen years old, has been a part of the MSBY since… about two weeks ago? He doesn’t really know anymore. Time passes differently around here. He can never tell. Grew up as an only child, with two parents who were owners of a hotel chain. His father was an abusive serial cheater and his mother was a functioning alcoholic. Since he was a kid, they had big expectations of him. Be good at everything if you don’t want to get a beating, be top of the class every year or you’ll get the belt, be an honor student or else you’re an embarrassment, take over the family business, no, you don’t get a say in it, marry a pretty, rich woman, do what we say and never anything else. Never be anything else.
That’s probably why he didn’t feel it so much back then, just how lucky he was in a lot of ways, but he sure does now.
Atsumu and Osamu have been living in this hellhole their whole lives. They don’t know what it is to be comfortable. They never had the chance to know. Sometimes, when he thinks about that, really thinks about that, he wonders if he did the right thing.
Never mind that his parents controlled his whole life. Never mind that his mother was going insane. Never mind that his father treated them like punching bags. Never mind that he didn’t want to take over the family business. Never mind that he just wanted to play volleyball. Never mind that he didn’t want to marry a pretty, rich woman because he didn’t want a woman at all. Never mind that the night his father caught him sleeping with another man, he beat him up so badly that he couldn’t see through his left eye by the end of it. Never mind that no one, not his mother, not his father, tried to stop him or look for him when he walked out without looking back.
Honestly, now that he thinks about it, maybe it’s just because they were convinced he’d be back, begging on his knees for their forgiveness.
And honestly, sometimes he feels like maybe he should. Maybe he just shouldn’t have done any of it in the first place. Maybe he was just being a spoiled kid. Maybe he should’ve sucked it up. Maybe if he did, he’d have learned to be happy with his life, eventually.
He thinks back to what feels like years ago now, when really it’s only been about a month. He thinks about those weeks he spent living on the streets, surviving off other people’s garbage and scraps, sleeping in shitty motels and when all his cash finally ran out, on park benches and behind bushes. He thinks about how he was starving, how he knew he’d end up becoming some rotting corpse on the side of the road if he kept going, but all he could think was that he’d rather fucking die than go home.
It was the best revenge ever.
To kill his parents’ only son and make headlines. He’d wondered if he should write some fake suicide note talking about his homosexuality, leave it in his pocket for people to find, just to embarrass his folks even more. (Or maybe it was just the hunger and deliriousness talking.)
That’s where his head was at when Meian had found him.
Sakusa had forgotten all about stranger danger at that point. With the promise of a cheeseburger and a roof over his head for the night, he gets in the car.
“Hey. I’m Meian Shugo. I pick up strays a lot.” He says, keeping his eyes on the road as Sakusa devours his burger. It’s cold and kind of nasty, but it’s food. “How long have you been out here for? I’ve never seen you around our turf.”
Turf?
“I dunno. A couple weeks, maybe.” Sakusa says through a mouthful of stale burger mush, “Are you like a… social worker or something?”
“A fucking social worker...” Meian repeats breathlessly, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”
“Sakusa Kiyoomi… alright.” Meian nods, “I’m just gonna give it to you straight so you know who I am and where you are. I’m not a social worker. I’m Meian Shugo. I come from a family who’s been in charge around here for a long time. My dad died a couple years ago, so I guess now I’m the head. Whatever the hell that means. We own a building a few blocks away where most of my people live. It’s a shithole, but it’s a roof, it’s a bed, and it’s a home. Are you following me?”
He’s quiet for a few seconds. “You’re not like… a mafia boss, are you?”
“Not exactly. Mafia bosses are usually rich, right?” Meian asks furrowing his eyebrows, “Look, I don’t know about all that. I’m not the boss, alright? I just see things over here. We steal, we sell, sometimes we hurt, but we don’t kill, at least not when we can help it.”
“So, you’re criminals.”
Meian doesn’t even flinch. “Well. We do what we have to do to survive.”
Sakusa purses his lips. Suddenly, he doesn’t have much of an appetite. “So what? Is this an invitation?”
“Only if you want it to be.” Meian says, “I won’t force you into it. If you have any other better options, then by all means, fucking take it. What we do… it’s a tough life. It’s a last resort life. It’s a we-had-no-other-choice life. Once you’re in it, it’s hard to get out. But it’s food, it’s money, and it’s a chance to keep living.”
Sakusa weighs over his other options in his head. There were options. There were definitely other options. Safer options. Options that won’t potentially land him in prison. But he isn’t thinking of whatever’s safer. He’s thinking of what’s quicker.
He’s thinking of what he could do that would piss them off most.
It takes him less than a minute of thinking before he decides. “Alright. Is there anything I have to do to get in?”
Meian doesn’t say anything, only drives a little faster, making one turn and then another. They stop in front of what looks like an old warehouse.
He turns towards the backseat, ruffling through a bag, before tossing a gun in Sakusa’s lap. He nearly has a fucking heart attack.
“What the f—” Sakusa starts to panic, taking the gun, attempting to hand it back to the man in a hurry.
“That’s your ticket in.” He says calmly, turning to look at the warehouse. “Right in there, are a few guys who stole a shit ton of our smack and owe me a shit ton of money. Get the cash they owe and you’re in.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sakusa hisses.
“You’ve still got an out.” Meian says, “You can walk out this car and go back to whatever you were doing before and I won’t stop you. It’s your decision. Are you in or are you out?”
You disgusting piece of shit! What the fuck are you doing?! How dare you disrespect me in my own household! I didn’t raise no fucking faggot! Get that thing out of my house!
“Fuck.”
Sakusa closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, fingers tightening around the gun, as he opens the door and walks out of the car purposefully.
He comes back less than an hour later.
When he gets into the car, he’s a little bruised up and bloodied, he’s shaking like a leaf, but his expression is neutral as he tosses the several wads of cash on Meian’s lap. The man gapes blankly.
“That good enough?”
The last few kids Meian had tried this method on, it’d been enough to scare them off for good. They’d either pissed themselves or threw up.
Sakusa simply pockets the gun before reaching for his abandoned cheeseburger from the dashboard and taking another bite, with his shaky hands.
Meian starts driving, eyes going back and forth between the road and the enigma sitting beside him, examining him as much as he can while driving.
He’s wearing branded clothes. Meian can tell they’re real. He usually doesn’t ask, but this time he can’t exactly stop himself.
“What really happened to you, kid?” Meian asks carefully, “Why is a kid wearing clothes that expensive sleeping on the streets?”
Sakusa looks down at his clothes as if he wants them burned. “My shitty parents had money. I don’t.”
“Ah. Parents, huh?” Meian repeats, “Your parents were loaded enough to buy you Gucci?”
“That’s what I just fucking said, didn’t I?”
It’s quiet for a little bit, Meian mulling over the words in his head before asking, “I’m assuming they were pieces of shit, considering you’re voluntarily doing this to yourself. But are you sure about this?”
Sakusa keeps his gaze on the view outside the window. “Sure about what?”
“This.” Meian says, “I’m assuming you’re educated. You could go back, if only for the support. They’re shitty parents, but they’re parents. With money. That’s better than nothing. You could stick it out until you start earning some good money yourself—”
“No. What are you, my fucking guardian angel or something?” Sakusa says instantly, cutting him off. “Take me wherever the fuck you’re planning to take me. I’m not going back. They aren’t my parents.”
“Why?”
Sakusa doesn’t know how long it’s been since he left exactly, but he knows it’s been long enough. It’s not for a lack of money or connections that his name and face isn’t plastered all over the news stations or on posters all over the city. It’s for a lack of trying.
A lack of caring.
“Why? Because I wasn’t their fucking son. I was their burden, I was their future moneymaker, I was their image and their disappointment, and I was their private punching bag. I was a lot of shitty things to them, but I was never their son.” Sakusa says, voice void of any emotion. “ Why? Because fuck them, that’s why.”
Meian bites his tongue. A few minutes of silence pass.
“The gun is yours.” is all he can say in the end, as he continues to drive. “I have an apartment in mind for you. Sorry in advance about your neighbours.”
Miya Atsumu. They’d met through a night that involved breaking and entering, fingering, and death threats. He’s around his age he thinks, lives next door to him with his twin brother Osamu, and he’s been MSBY’s little drug runner since before he’d even learned how to jerk off.
(He’d heard that one from Hinata. Apparently, he at least knows that much, but not much else.)
What Sakusa Kiyoomi knows from personal experience however, is that Miya Atsumu smells like rust and sun most of the time, but sometimes he smells like laundry detergent. He’s loud and full of himself but Sakusa’s pretty sure most of it is just a front. He has a tight asshole and talks way too much during sex, but apparently prefers topping. He works as a bartender in a gay bar called The Adlers , but on the side he’s a member of the MSBY through and through. (He’s sent a man into a coma with his fists alone. Atsumu seems proud of that one.)
He’s both gentle and rough at the same time. He shows he cares, but not that he cares too much. He’s warm, really warm, in a way that Sakusa didn’t think was possible for a person who grew up the way he did. He’s a lot of what Sakusa’s always wanted to be. He’s a lot of what Sakusa always hoped he’d never be. He has a stupid laugh and a thick Kansai accent that plagues his dreams but helps him sleep. He feels familiar when he shouldn’t. He feels safe when he knows he isn’t. He gets him to say things he usually wouldn’t. He’s comfortable.
That’s what makes him trouble.
Sakusa knows that. He knows. And yet for some fucking reason… he just keeps coming back for more.
Again, he tells himself this is the last time he’s coming, except that’s also what he said the last time, and the time before that, and the time before then.
The door swings open as if he’d been waiting for him. And he’s greeted with that familiar face and familiar smirk every single time.
Atsumu never asks about the job, never questions him, never asks what this means for them, never asks why he hasn’t learned how to clean his own wounds, and why he only ever goes to him and never anyone else.
Instead, he just opens his door, cleans him up, and lets him spend the nights in his bed.
They don’t have sex again. They never even kiss or hold each other. Atsumu doesn’t ask for that.
“As payment,” He’d said the third time that Sakusa came around, “— I want ya to tell me somethin’ about yerself. That’s what I want. That’s all and nothin’ else.”
Sakusa knows what Atsumu wants to hear. It’s all anyone ever wanted to hear.
So just to spite him, he doesn’t talk about any of that. He doesn’t talk about any of the shitty stuff.
Instead, he talks about everything but the shitty stuff.
“I like spicy food.” He says one night, while Atsumu dabs ointment onto his cheekbone, “Whatever it is, as long as there’s a spicy option, that’s always what I order.”
“I used to play volleyball. I was really fucking good at it, too.” He says another night, while Atsumu ices his ankle. “My parents thought it was a waste of time. I loved it, though. It made high school a little bearable, I guess.”
Another night, all he really has is a few cuts on his face and his hands. He comes to Atsumu anyway, and he says nothing as he covers him in colorful band aids.
Atsumu listens as Sakusa tells him, “I have a lot of origami knowledge. Don’t ask me to explain. It’s fucking weird. I think I just spent too much of my life being bored out of my goddamn mind and resorted to making paper figures to keep myself from going crazy.”
And tonight, as they lay in Atsumu’s bed face to face after his head wound is all cleaned up, Sakusa talks about his favorite anime.
“I like Jujutsu Kaisen.” He says, “I wonder how many chapters have been put up since I left. Ah, well. I don’t know if I’d wanna read them, anyway. I’ve seen enough blood and violence in real life the past few weeks to last a lifetime.”
Sakusa didn’t mind doing this. They’re small stuff. Trivial stuff that doesn't really give anything about him away.
Except...
Except in return, Atsumu would tell him things about himself, too.
“I never really liked spicy food.” Atsumu had told him with a scrunched up face, “I can handle a little spice. But too much is bad for my bowels. Kinda like you with dairy, I guess?”
“Oh shit, no way. I played volleyball too!” Atsumu exclaimed, looking childishly excited. “I mean, I was never on any official team, but the guys and I used to play in a nearby park that has a shitty old volleyball net set up. Wanna see it sometime?”
“Origami…” Atsumu repeated to himself with a soft smile on his face. “That’s kinda cute, Omi-kun. Can ya make me an animal? A paper crane or somethin’ one of these days?”
And tonight, with a paper crane sitting on the bedside table, Atsumu’s eyes sparkle as he says, “Jujutsu Kaisen’s good. I haven’t caught up yet, though. We can do it together. With Samu ‘n Rin.”
Sakusa has a feeling that his initial plan has backfired on him, as he watches Atsumu’s eyes flutter closed as he drifts off to sleep.
Because the longer this goes on, the more he’s starting to realize that Atsumu actually genuinely enjoys learning all this useless shit about him.
And even worse, he’s starting to realize that he actually genuinely enjoys learning all this useless shit about Atsumu, too.
__
“Samu. Why the hell is he here?” Atsumu asks as he hands a customer in a colorful leotard his drink.
His eyes are trained on the black, curly haired man standing awkwardly in the middle of the dance floor next to Akaashi, Hinata, and Kageyama who seem to be trying their best to make him feel comfortable. Bless them.
“Apparently, Kou convinced him to come.” Osamu says, “Lured him in with the promise of free drinks and getting to see you in tight leather pants.”
“And he came for that?” Atsumu asks, incredulously. “That’s weird. We haven’t even been sleepin’ together.”
Osamu pauses in the middle of mixing a Bloody Mary. “Wait, what? The fuck has he been doin’ in our apartment every other night, then?”
“He makes me fix him up after he does all his dirty work. Not sure if he likes bein’ spoiled or if he’s just too lazy to do it himself.” Atsumu explains, “And then, we sleep. That’s it. We just sleep. Next to each other.”
“I dunno what’s going on, but that sounds even gayer than just having sex!” Bokuto exclaims, suddenly appearing beside them wearing nothing but a sparkly gold thong.
“My thoughts exactly.” Suna points out, “So, are you guys not fucking out of your own free will or do you want to fuck him and you’re just too scared to bring it up?”
“We have had sex. Once.” Atsumu says, for some reason feeling the need to defend himself. “And it just… never happened again.”
“Do you want it to happen again?” Someone asks from behind him.
“Duh. He hasn’t slept with anyone else, which means he can’t get him out of his head.” Osamu answers matter of factly.
“Shut the fuck up, ya scrub. Yeah sure, what fucking ever, but that’s not up to me. And Yuuji, when the fuck were ya part of this conversation anyway?” Atsumu turns to his co-worker standing behind him, trying to get a hold of the bottle of gin.
“Since you guys started having this whole conversation in the form of screaming at each other over the crowd.” Yuuji informs him, “And sorry to tell you, but everyone in the bar heard all about your lovelife woes, too.”
“Great. Anyone here have any ideas on how to figure out whether someone likes ya as a potential romantic slash sexual partner or if they just… enjoy being pampered and havin’ someone to sleep next to like a…”
“Daddy?” One of their patrons offers.
Atsumu spills Vodka all over the table. “No. No, that’s not it. Christ, I hope that’s not it.”
“How about you try and make him jealous? See if he reacts?” Yuuji suggests, “I mean, we’re already in a gay bar. And look, you don’t even have to do anything different from what you already do all the time around here.”
Osamu and Suna snort. Even a few patrons shrug in agreement. Atsumu decides to reflect on what that says about himself during a later time.
“Are ya volunteerin’ yerself?” Atsumu raises his eyebrows.
“Sure.” Yuuji says, like it’s nothing. “It’s not like it’s anything we haven’t done before.”
“Ya don’t have a crush on me, do ya?” Atsumu asks, suspiciously.
“Eat shit, Atsumu.” He deadpans in response.
“Good to know we’re on the same page, then.”
Atsumu checks on Sakusa from the corner of his eye and finds him laughing at something Hinata’s saying.
God. He’s so fucking pretty.
He’s in the midst of an emotional meltdown over the way Sakusa Kiyoomi’s skin glistens under the lights, when suddenly, the man turns his head to look directly at him. Atsumu notes that his eyes travel from the bottom up, and when he belatedly notices that Atsumu’s staring back at him, he promptly looks away.
And Atsumu’s no expert, but his expression seems to say something like, I want to get him out of those pants.
Promising.
“Okay.” He agrees, patting Yuuji’s shoulder. “Our usual spot, then. In five minutes. Samu, cover for me, will ya?”
“What’s new?” He sighs. “Just please, please, make sure it’s somewhere I won’t fuckin’ see ya. Dear god.”
Five minutes later, pressed against the wall in his usual spot, Yuuji kisses a line down his neck, making Atsumu sigh, tilting his head to give him more room to work on.
“How far do you want me to go?” Yuuji asks, “Want me to blow you again or would that be too obvious?”
“You wanna…” Atsumu trails off as Yuuji palms him, and remembers that he’d already told Sakusa he was an exhibitionist from the moment they’d met, “... get on yer knees?”
Yuuji smirks knowingly when Atsumu starts to unzip his unlawfully tight leather pants, and he slowly sinks down to the ground.
“You’re a nasty motherfucker through and through, Miya Atsumu.”
“Never fuckin’ learned to be anyway else.” He retorts, pulling his cock out of his underwear and pushing Yuuji’s head closer, “C’mon.”
This isn’t something new to Atsumu. He’s done this a couple of times and in more than one bar. It’s also not limited to bars. People in the vicinity of MSBY seem to be used to seeing him. And especially in a place like The Adlers, no one ever really bats an eye at him anymore.
Sure, there were still a handful of people who would watch it happen like they wanted to eat him up, which he actually enjoyed most of the time. But most of them usually just glanced at him and would look away like, oh yeah, there goes Atsumu getting his dick sucked again at a corner over there. Good for him.
Whatever. He likes what he likes.
However, it’s the first time he’s doing this with Sakusa Kiyoomi in the room. Maybe that’s why he’s already half hard when nothing’s even happened yet.
His train of thought is interrupted by a warm wetness suddenly enveloping his dick and he gasps a little, resting his hand on top of Yuuji’s head, curling his fingers in his hair.
Terushima Yuuji’s a goddamn asshole but Atsumu has to admit, the man is ridiculously fucking skilled at this.
“Mmm.” He hums, the back of his head knocking against the wall.
Atsumu closes his eyes for a few seconds, savoring the feeling, almost forgetting why they were doing this in the first place. He only remembers when Yuuji sucks on the head particularly hard, making him hiss.
He opens his eyes and lifts his head to look at the boy beneath him, but is instead met with an intense pair of eyes gazing at him from across the room.
It’s a meaningful stare. They’re fiery, almost.
Once Atsumu meets those eyes, he finds it hard to look away. Hell, he finds it hard to blink. His fingers sink deeper into Yuuji’s hair as he tells him to, “Suck me harder.”
Yuuji does what he’s asked, choking a little bit while he’s at it, making Atsumu groan as he forces his knees not to buckle. Everything feels intense, his entire body feels warm, it’s all too much, but he doesn’t look away. And neither does Sakusa.
Atsumu can’t decipher what the expression on his face means. It’s cold but it’s hot. He’s expressionless but at the same time, it gives Atsumu everything he needs to know. It scares him but he doesn’t ever want the moment to end.
Yuuji starts stroking him along with the bob of his head and Atsumu nearly chokes on his spit.
Right at that moment, without breaking eye contact, Sakusa licks his lips.
Fuck. He’s gonna come.
His orgasm crashes rather than hits. It’s like a punch to the gut. He groans, his vision going spotty, his hearing turning muffled, and this time he can’t control it when his eyes squeeze closed, thighs trembling as he comes into Yuuji’s waiting mouth.
It takes him a moment to compose himself once he comes down from his high. But when Atsumu opens his eyes to check on the aftermath of what he’d just done, Sakusa’s gone.
Yuuji pushes himself up, wiping his mouth. “So? Did it work?”
“I dunno.” Atsumu says honestly, searching the dance floor. “I guess we’ll see.”
Well. It works. Doesn’t look like there’ll be any fucking happening tonight, though.
By 4AM, when most of the people are starting to head home, when the crowd dissipates and the noise has died down to nothing but a muted buzz, Atsumu is presented with a drunk Sakusa Kiyoomi.
“You fucking pervert.” Sakusa slurs drunkenly, his cheek pressed against the table. “You fucking… stupid, perverted exhibitionist. Fucking… cheater who plays dirty.”
“I’ve tried to take him home. He drank waaaaay too much. I was starting to get concerned he’d get alcohol poisoning.” Akaashi says tiredly, “But he refused to leave without you.”
“He kept saying that you were doing something on purpose or whatever.” Bokuto says, looking confused. “He seemed really offended, too.”
“It’s fine.” Atsumu waves them off, staring fondly at the drunken mess beneath him. “I’ll take him home. Omi, ya think ya can stand up?”
“I’ll kill you.” He mumbles like he’s trying to sound threatening, but only succeeds in sounding like a sleepy kitten. “I’ll… fuck you up.”
“Mhmm. Of course, ya will.” Atsumu nods appeasingly. He looks back to his friends. “Did he have fun?”
“Yeah!” Hinata says, “Bokuto-san gave him a lap dance! I think it was more fun for us than it was for him ‘cause he full on froze, but it was great!”
“We took a video if you want it.” Kageyama adds.
“Send it to me later.” Atsumu says, as he tries to lift Sakusa by the armpits. “C’mon, ya big baby. It’s time to go home. Samu and Suna are waitin’ in the car.”
“I hate you.” He says, against Atsumu’s shoulder.
“No, ya don’t.” Atsumu retorts easily.
A few seconds later, there’s a soft, “No, I don’t.”
“I’m gonna take a fuckin’ shower.” Osamu huffs out tiredly as they drag their exhausted bodies into their apartment. “Gotta get rid of all this stupid glitter.”
“Go ahead.” Atsumu wheezes, dropping Sakusa’s half conscious body onto the couch. “I gotta take care of this one first.”
Osamu sends him a knowing smirk. “Seems like yer plan worked, huh? I mean, if him goin’ ‘ how fucking dare you’ the entire ride here was anythin’ to go by.”
“Shove it.” Atsumu threatens half-heartedly, crouching down beside Sakusa, pushing some of his curls out of his forehead.
Osamu takes that as his cue to leave the two alone, slinking into the bathroom.
Atsumu peers down. “Omi? You alive?”
Sakusa’s face scrunches up cutely. “Atsumu…?”
“Yeah. It’s me.” Atsumu says softly, running a hand through his curls. “How’re ya feelin’?”
“Like…” Sakusa drifts off, “... I got run over by a ten-wheeler.”
Atsumu snickers. “I mean, who told ya to drink yerself to death like that, huh?”
“Fuck off.” He grumbles. “Ya don’t… get to nag me.”
“And why not?” Atsumu teases, “Who else is gonna nag ya if I don’t do it?”
“Because,” Sakusa whines, sounding genuinely upset, “— this wasn’t… how it was supposed to go.”
“What? The night?” Atsumu chuckles.
“No. My life.” Sakusa says quietly, voice muffled against the cushion. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”
Atsumu freezes.
“I’m supposed… to be happy now.” He continues, “But instead, I’m just… this.”
Just this, huh?
For some reason, Atsumu doesn’t need him to explain any further. He gets it. He gets it completely.
Just this means getting blackout drunk in a small, shitty gay bar. Just this means getting fucked up over watching a goddamn felon get a public blowjob. Just this means living in a broken down apartment building with shitty plumbing. Just this means having to be a criminal to survive.
Just this was something Atsumu understood well. Just this was his entire life. Just this is going through each day, barely ever living, only ever trying to survive. Just this was something he questioned for so long that he wonders if he’d have ever found an answer to it at all, even if he didn’t give up long ago.
Is this it? Was I really born just for this? Just this?
Suddenly, Atsumu feels Sakusa’s hand wrap around his wrist, as if trying to keep it close to him.
“My mom used to stroke my hair every night until I fell asleep when I was a little kid.” He whispers, “Isn’t that funny?”
No, it’s not fucking funny. Atsumu wants to cry.
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know if there’s anything to say to that at all. All he can do is sit cross legged on the floor and gently run his fingers through Sakusa’s hair over and over, as long as he needs, until the man’s entire body goes completely lax.
A few minutes later, Osamu walks out of the bathroom and Atsumu quickly raises a finger to his lips.
His brother tiptoes towards them, leaning down to check on the unconscious lump on the couch.
Osamu pauses, staring at the two, and sensing the tenderness in the moment quietly asks, “Is he okay?”
Atsumu purses his lips, rubbing his thumb against Sakusa’s temple, feeling the soft, warm skin underneath.
“I think I understand what makes his parents so shitty now, Samu.” He murmurs.
“What?” Osamu asks, gaze fixed on the unfamiliar intimacy.
“It’s that they had the potential to be good parents to him,” Atsumu says softly, “— and they just chose not to do it.”
__
When Sakusa wakes up the next day, it’s already sundown. His head pounds like there are prison inmates trying to hammer their way out through his fucking temples.
“G’morning, sunshine.”
Sakusa recognizes that voice. He opens his eyes only to glare at the owner. “Fuck off.”
“Ooh, someone’s cranky.” Atsumu says, pressing a glass of water to his cheek and handing him a painkiller. “Here.”
Sakusa takes them and then checks the clock on the wall. “Idiot. Aren’t you late for your shift?”
“Nah, I’m ditchin’ tonight.” Atsumu shrugs nonchalantly, “It’d do ya some good to skip doin’ any dirty work tonight, too. Unless ya wanna throw up on the job.”
“I’m fine.” Sakusa tries to deny. “I wasn’t even that drunk.”
“Oh, ya weren’t, were ya? So, ya just like to ask people to stroke yer hair to sleep every night?”
Sakusa’s eyes falter. “I— I didn’t do that.”
Atsumu plays along. “Sure, ya didn’t. And ya also didn’t spill yer heart out to me ‘bout how ya dunno how ya ended up livin’ like this.”
At that, Sakusa turns away and gulps.
Atsumu takes pity on the guy and reaches out to tap on his knee. “Hey. Sorry. Ya wanna talk about it, though?”
“No, I want the exact opposite of that.” Sakusa says, instantly. “I would very much like to not talk about it at all. Ever.”
Atsumu stares at him for a while after that. For so long that it gets borderline uncomfortable. It’s as if he’s trying to read him, find something, taking whatever little information he can get from the little he’s being given. Sakusa almost feels sorry for him for how hard he’s trying.
“Okay. Then, we won’t.” Atsumu says with a tone of finality.
Sakusa blinks, surprised. “We won’t?”
“Yeah, but take a shower. ‘Cause we’re goin’ out.” He says, standing up.
Sakusa narrows his eyes at him, suspiciously. “Going where?”
Atsumu turns to him and smiles, and it’s not a nice smile. It’s the kind of smile that Sakusa recognizes as the one that people give right before they end up doing something that earns them a life sentence.
“Goin’ out.” Atsumu says simply, “You know, to not talk about it.”
Sakusa doesn’t remember the last time he’d gone out with a friend. He didn’t have a lot of those growing up. He never really had the time and his parents never taught him how to make them.
Somehow, they had him convinced that being their son and being a top student meant he wasn’t ever allowed to be a kid.
The rough, calloused hand enveloping Sakusa’s own, pulling him along with him, is warm. So warm that he catches himself thinking that he’d probably follow him anywhere.
“Where the fuck are you taking me?”
Atsumu turns to him with a cheeky smile. “What are yer thoughts on… beer and pizza?”
Sakusa’s stomach grumbles instantly at the mere thought. “As long as you’re buying.”
The man’s only response is to pull him by the hand harder, as he skips towards a nearby store, childlike, as if they aren’t walking along the most dangerous street in the city. They literally just passed by two guys trying to hijack a fucking car.
“Are you gonna tour me around the area or something?” Sakusa tries, a little concerned.
The double doors make a chiming noise as they enter and Atsumu raises his eyebrows at him, amused.
“Hell no. I mean, unless ya want me to?” He asks, “I can do that. We’ll have to go back so I can get my gun, though.”
“No. No thanks.” Sakusa says, relieved. “But where are you taking me?”
Atsumu turns to the guy smoking a cigarette, sitting with his feet propped up on the counter.
“Hey, Semi. Heat us up a pizza and get me two cold cans of beer to go.”
Semi looks at Sakusa like he’s analyzing him, before standing up to do what was asked of him.
“Wow. I gotta say… I’m proud of you, Atsumu. For a while there, I was almost convinced you exclusively slept with men more than half your age.”
“I’m not sleeping with him.” Sakusa mumbles, but neither men even blink.
“Because it’s only ever the men more than half my age who have any fuckin’ money around here.” Atsumu says, slapping a few bills on the table. “Does that cover all of it?”
Semi shoves them in the cash register and slides two cans of beers towards Atsumu, who catches them easily.
“Where are you two headed?”
“The swimming pool.”
“A swimming pool?” Sakusa repeats. “Is it clean?”
“Don’t get your hopes up, man.” Semi says, just as the microwave starts beeping. “It’s empty and smells like mold and piss.”
“That’s fucking disgusting. Why are you taking me there then?” Sakusa asks, turning to the man beside him grabbing the pizza.
Atsumu cracks open both their beers, handing the other to Sakusa who takes it reflexively. He then proceeds to knock their beers together before taking a swig.
“To tell you a story, Omi-Omi.” He says, before heading out with one last salute to Semi.
Semi doesn’t even acknowledge him and instead turns to Sakusa and says, “Good luck with him. Truly.”
As Sakusa walks out, he wonders what the hell that's supposed to mean.
People on the street literally pause to greet Atsumu as they walk, whether it’s just to wave, yell out some muffled cuss word, or offer him whatever drug they’re selling. Sakusa wasn’t exactly expecting the friendly atmosphere.
“Are they scared of you or something? Why are they being so nice? It’s freaking me out.” Sakusa whispers as Atsumu takes another swig of his beer.
“I guess. I mean, I’m a Miya. And plus, the closer ya are with Meian, the easier it’ll be for ya to walk along the streets like this.” He explains, “And of course, there’s the fact that yer with me.”
“Me?”
Atsumu nods. “As it turns out, yer kinda famous around here right now, Omi-kun. The story of you nailin’ yer very first job just ten minutes after Meian picked ya up has made its rounds in MSBY.”
Sakusa looks away, turning his attention to his beer. “What’s the big deal about that? Aren’t we all on the same boat here?”
“Omi, the first time I ever had to point a gun at someone, I pissed my fucking pants. Got it all over the floor. Spent the next hour in hysterics, cryin’ all over Samu. It was embarrassin’ as hell. I was, like, thirteen.”
He turns to look at Sakusa, smiling softly. “Wanna tell me ‘bout how you did yer first day?”
On his first day, Sakusa had walked into the warehouse as quietly as he could to stay unnoticed until the very last minute, shot a bullet through the roof to get their attention, before pointing the gun at the three guys who couldn’t have been older than eighteen and said, “Give me the money you owe Meian Shugo or I’ll shoot you dead.”
The rest of it is a blur. He knows he managed to get the money somehow, but all he really remembers is being in a lot of pain.
It was the first time he’d ever shot a gun and he didn’t know how strong the recoil would be. It felt like a searing pain shooting up from his hand and spreading to his entire right side. It was terrifying. He almost thought he’d accidentally shot himself. It was the first time he’d ever gotten into a fist fight, too. He didn’t know how badly his knuckles would hurt.
And then, he remembers their terrified faces.
Sakusa could tell they were young. And when people are scared out of their wits, they look even younger. They were probably just stupid kids who’d made a few mistakes, who were born in the wrong place, born into these shitty circumstances, and were just doing what they could. Just like him. Just like everyone.
That’s what makes you feel like a monster for doing what you’re doing in the first place. It’s what makes you back down, cower away, give up, throw up, or piss your pants.
To hurt someone, you have to hurt too. If you don’t hurt… what does that say about you?
Sakusa tilts his head back as he gulps his beer down. “Where’s the damn swimming pool?”
Atsumu smirks at the lack of an answer. “Patience, Omi-Omi. We’re gettin’ there.”
He isn’t sure how long they’ve been walking but from the abundance of nature around them and the lack of noise, if Sakusa didn’t know any better, he’d think he was walking right into his own murder.
“It’s completely abandoned, if yer wonderin’ about all this.” Atsumu says, cutting off his train of thought. “Not a lot of people know about this spot. You should feel honored I’m takin’ ya here.”
“Why do you know about it, then?” Sakusa asks as they make their way down a short flight of stairs.
“I think ya underestimate the knowledge of a man who’s lived here his whole life.” Atsumu points out, leading him to go another left. “Aaaand, here we are. Isn’t she majestic?”
Sakusa pushes away the branch blocking his view and is met with what is probably the largest swimming pool he’s ever seen in real life. Except instead of water, there’s only grass, mold, and a random dirty old mattress in it, but still. It’s impressive in its own right. He doesn’t say all that out loud, though.
“It looks gross.”
“C’mon,” Atsumu says, ignoring him and motioning towards the built in ladder. “Let’s go ‘n finish eatin’ our pizza.”
Sakusa follows behind him, all the while noting that this is probably the most peace and quiet he’s ever gotten since getting here. And since… everything.
Atsumu climbs down the ladder while holding a small box of pizza in one hand, with the kind of practiced ease that shows he’s done it a thousand times before, and Sakusa follows his lead albeit more carefully and slowly.
“It smells like shit.” Sakusa says as Atsumu plops down naturally onto the dirty mattress. “Why are we eating here?”
Atsumu gives him a tired look. “Dude, weren’t ya sleepin’ on the streets just a few weeks ago?”
“Well, it’s not like I did that by fucking choice.” Sakusa argues, but drops down next to Atsumu anyway as he opens the pizza.
“Here.” Atsumu hands him a slice, while chewing on his own. “Look, stop bein’ such a grump. I’ve given ya nature, pizza, and some quiet. Also, a giant fuckin’ swimming pool. What more could ya possibly want from me?”
“An explanation.”
“Explanation for what? Do I have to have a reason for wantin’ to hang out with ya in private ‘n bring ya to a pretty place?” Atsumu asks, innocently.
“You literally told me you wanted to tell me a story.” Sakusa deadpans.
Atsumu pauses from chewing. “Oh. Right. I did say that, huh?”
“Idiot.” Sakusa looks around them, staring up at the night sky. “Hey, the sky looks better in this place.”
“Doesn’t it?” Atsumu smiles, gazing up as well. “It’s one of the reasons why Samu and I always used to hang around here when we were kids.”
“So, is that the story? You’re gonna tell me how you guys found this place?” He asks.
“Depends. Do ya wanna know?”
“You brought me all the way here.” Sakusa says, sighing as he lays back against the mattress, keeping his eyes trained on the sky. “You might as well tell me something worthwhile.”
“I dunno, Omi.” Atsumu says, mirroring his position and lying on his back beside him. Their arms touch. “I think ya have much higher standards than me for what ya consider to be worthwhile.”
“Just start fucking talking, will you?”
“Damn, alright, fine, I’ll tell ya.” Atsumu chuckles. “Why’re ya in such a hurry all the fuckin’ time?”
Sakusa closes his eyes in annoyance. “Because I don’t always have the time for your idiocy, Miya.”
For a few seconds, Atsumu doesn’t say anything and Sakusa is about to tell him off and ask him to repeat what he just said, when the man suddenly turns to him, looking at him with an expression that shows that he sees right through him.
“What’re ya talkin’ about, Omi?” He asks, quietly. “If there’s anythin’ we do have, it’s time.”
Kiyoomi, I don’t know what you expect us to do. I don’t understand where we went wrong in raising you that you ended up like... this. You need to get your act together. How long are you going to keep acting like a child? It’s time to grow up. You don’t have the luxury of time.
In the end, Sakusa never did understand what they meant and what they wanted from him. It always felt like he was doing something wrong just by existing. Like all he knew how to do was make mistakes.
All his life.
“Can you start talking now?” He finds himself asking without meaning to, hoping that it sounds less desperate than he thinks it might have.
If Atsumu notices, he doesn’t say anything. “What do ya wanna hear, Omi? A happy story about this pool or a sad one?”
Honestly, Sakusa wants to know why exactly Atsumu has lived in MSBY for so long. Why exactly he became a drug runner before he even knew how to jerk off. He wants to know where his parents are. He wants to know why he’s the only one who doesn’t participate in their weed circles. He wants to know why they’re lying in a gross, abandoned swimming pool.
A happy story or a sad story? He wants to know which he has more of. He wants to know how many happy stories you’re allowed to have around here.
Do you like your life, Sakusa wants to ask, or do you find yourself waking up everyday and asking yourself if there’s even a point to it?
Do you like your life? Do you like who you are? Is it too hard for you to talk about, too?
“A happy story.” Sakusa answers.
A smile slowly creeps its way onto Atsumu’s lips and Sakusa watches as it does.
This smile is subtle, a far cry from his usual annoying smirks or bright grins, but it’s just as captivating, sparkling in the moonlight.
Sakusa shakes his head. What the fuck. Is he waxing poetic about Miya Atsumu’s smile?
“Good choice.” He says, “A happy story it is. I’ll tell ya all about… that.”
Atsumu points to a corner of the pool covered in spray paint art. It’s a drawing of what seems to be a giant rainbow penis made entirely of a hundred tiny penises. Sakusa’s not sure whether he should be impressed or not. The more he stares at it though, the prettier it starts to look.
“Do I even wanna know?” Sakusa asks, more to himself than to Atsumu.
“Back when we were fourteen, Samu did that.” Atsumu says, looking melancholy. He closes his eyes but the smile never leaves his face. “He drew it for me. He always did have a talent for the arts.”
“He drew a giant rainbow penis… for you?”
Atsumu nods proudly.
“This has been our place since we were kids. We’ve never seen anyone else here other than Semi, Suna, and Bokkun. But Samu and I were the ones who found it. Back when we were runnin’ from home ‘cause our parents were… well. Ya don’t need to hear all that.”
Sakusa does want to hear it but he doesn’t ask, because asking about it would probably mean having to let Atsumu ask him shit back, and that’s not a conversation he’s ready to have yet.
“Anyway, this was our place, me and Samu. It’s where we went whenever we needed some quiet. We never used it to do anythin’ illegal, never used it for sex or whatever the fuck else. That was our rule. We wanted at least this place, just this one place… to be separate from all of that, y’know?”
An escape, Sakusa realizes. That’s what this empty pool is.
“We were only fourteen. Apparently, Samu knew he was gay before I did but kept quiet about it, so dad ended up findin’ out about me first. Ya wanted a happy story so I’m not gonna tell ya all that, either. But you can guess how that went down.” Atsumu says, like he’s telling a bedtime story.
“Samu and I slept over here for a week after that. It’s why we have this old thing.” He pats the mattress underneath them. “Samu took care of me those days when I could barely sleep or fuckin’… walk. I think that bastard broke my leg. I don’t really remember anymore. Anyway,” He waves his hand, like he’s brushing it off.
He wonders if it’s alright for Atsumu to be talking about this so casually, like it’s something that happened to someone else and not him.
“When I was feelin’ better, I went out to do a job. To make up for all those days Samu spent workin’ for the both of us. And when I came back….” He motions to the rainbow penis, “I came back to that gay ass drawing. I guess it was Samu’s weird ass fuckin’ way of sayin’ that he supports me ‘n loves me and all that sappy brotherly shit.”
Sakusa smiles without realizing he’s doing it. “Did it get through to you?”
“I hugged him and cried like a fuckin’ baby.” Atsumu laughs breathily.
“Everytime I look at it… it reminds me why I haven’t given up yet, y’know? It was like a reminder that there’ll still be good days comin’ even if it’ll only be a few of ‘em. Doesn’t matter how shitty it gets. I have to keep going. ‘Cause I still have someone to protect. A brother to take care of. One thing to live for.” Atsumu says, “And that’s all ya need. That’s all ya need to hold onto when nothin’ else works. One thing.”
Sakusa turns his head to look at him, trying to push down a tingly feeling in his stomach that he can’t put a name to yet.
“A giant rainbow colored penis?”
At that, Atsumu turns to look back at him and smiles as he says, “Yup. Ya gotta look for yer own giant rainbow colored penis.”
Strangely, Sakusa thinks that’s the only piece of advice he’s ever gotten that makes sense to him. He wonders whether Miya Atsumu’s an idiot or the world’s greatest genius.
Either way, it scares him.
He doesn’t even realize how long they’ve been staring at each other, until Atsumu whispers to him, his warm breath tickling the skin on his face.
“Be careful with the way ya look at me, Omi-kun.” He says, both his eyes and his voice shaking, “I might just kiss you if ya don’t stop.”
Maybe the beer was spiked or maybe it’s the pizza. That’s the only explanation Sakusa could think of for what he says next.
“Isn’t this the one place that’s separate from everything out there?” He asks, letting his gaze travel down to Atsumu’s lips. “What’s stopping you, then?”
Atsumu doesn’t look fazed, only raising a hand to run his fingers over Sakusa’s cheek.
“I dunno. Ya gonna ignore me tomorrow if I do?”
Sakusa doesn’t know the answer to that question, so he doesn’t answer it. But it’s fine because Atsumu starts leaning forward anyway, and Sakusa finds that he’s completely powerless in the face of a pretty boy under the fucking moonlight so—
Riiiiiiiiiiiing!
They both flinch.
“Fuck.” Sakusa exhales, feeling weak suddenly, collapsing back onto the mattress.
Atsumu freezes for five full seconds before looking down at his pocket and saying, “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ya.”
“Try telling them that instead of your phone.”
Atsumu grumbles curse words to himself as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. Once he sees the caller’s name, he rolls his eyes.
He presses a button and puts the phone against his ear. “Listen, Samu, if this isn’t imp—”
He goes silent. He stays silent. And it’s an eerie kind of silent. The kind that you hear right before something really fucked up happens.
Atsumu sits up abruptly and it’s almost like Sakusa’s seeing things unravel in slow motion when the man’s expression goes from neutral to something that looks like…
Anger? Fear? Guilt? All those things?
Sakusa slowly sits up, dread settling in his stomach.
“Keep him out of our house, hear me?” Atsumu says to his brother as he stands hurriedly, “Don’t fight back, don’t say anything, and don’t give him any fuckin’ money. Not a cent. Give me ten minutes, max.”
He hangs up the phone and before Sakusa can even ask, Atsumu turns to him.
“We have to go. Do ya have yer gun on ya?”
Sakusa unconsciously reaches down to feel it. “I always do. Why?”
“Good. ‘Cause we might need it.” He says, as he makes his way back up the ladder.
“Why? A job?”
“No.” Atsumu says, without even turning around to look at him. “I just forgot that today’s D-Day.”
Sakusa has to jog to keep up with him. “Hey. Can you speak in a way that makes sense to me?”
“Our daddy dearest just got out of fuckin’ jail.”
Sakusa doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t know what to say to something like that.
I’m sorry? Congratulations?
He takes one last look at the giant rainbow colored penis as they run further and further away from the calm, and back into the center of their turbulent lives.