Archive of Our Own

PART 1 - A BURNT HOME

When he was younger, deep in his burning house where every argument between his parents would only feed more into the flames, Sakusa Kiyoomi would hide in a random corner of their house as far as possible, and start counting down to a hundred. 

Even if he was in the furthest corner, every sound made him flinch, and made him lose count, which then forced him to go back to the start. He’d heard that 100 was a lucky number; visit the shrine for 100 days, you’d get a wish granted; fold 100 paper cranes, you’d get a wish granted, and such.

If he counted down to a hundred, would his wish come true? 

In the burning house he’d called home, a boy who was barely in his first year of elementary school wished to never be in the same position as his parents— And if it meant rejecting his soulmate to keep his peace, so be it.

Nearly a decade later, his parents, soulmates that were meant to be with each other, finally had a divorce, and Kiyoomi was finally allowed the reprieve of the fires in his home. They weren’t doused, more so they simmered down to embers, not quite put out but now lived in his mind. 

He remembered once, when his mother had come into his room. He couldn’t sleep, and so did she. She had sat down on his bed, gathering him in her arms to press her tears-soaked face into his dark curls. He was too big to fit in her arms then, but he still curled up into her like a child.

Kiyoomi wondered then if his much older siblings were home, would they ever learn of the grief of a soul who’d lost its other half?

“I will care for you, Kiyoomi. We will take care of each other” His mother whispered. “We do not need anyone else.”

Fifteen years old Kiyoomi had gripped her sleeve. He felt a little ridiculous. Wasn't he already too old to be acting this way? Still, he found himself asking; "Do you hear him still, in your link?”

His mother hugged him tighter. Somewhere, one of his limbs hit her stomach but she didn't even flinch. “Sometimes.” She responded, but despite being immature, Kiyoomi heard the unspoken words; but I don’t listen to him anymore. 

“Mama.” He said, voice shaking while holding back tears. When had he last called his mother with such a childish endearment? “Can fate make mistakes with soulmates?” 

His mother hadn’t responded that night, but Kiyoomi knew the answer lied in her fallen relationship. He wondered what drove his parents apart, wondered if his father felt the same grief as his mother. 

If soulmates were created for each other, then were they also meant to tear each other apart?

The embers sat in the back of his mind, the warmth of it felt more like a warning than a comfort. His home had stopped burning, but the ashes remained, forever staining the fingers that dug into what was left of his foundation. Was he the only one standing or had he burned to ashes too? The thought kept him up at night, the phantom fire raging burning in his chest.

They accompanied him throughout the years, even when his body grew even bigger and faster than his mind. At one point, he found it hard to recognize himself in the mirror, unfamiliar with the features that quickly reminded him of his absent father. He'd shared the same eyes, soulless and dark, cruel in the way the dark only could be. His hair curly like his mother's but he had the same.. everything else like his father.

Sometimes, he’d catch his mother looking at him with utter despair, and he’d count to a hundred again, wishing for his face to be destroyed– Anything, just to put out the fires in his mother’s broken heart. He couldn't do that so he found comfort in his face mask. If it can't be destroyed, let it remained hidden.

it felt almost surreal that just a year ago, he wouldn't have done so— That once, he felt something akin to a spark. At fourteen years old, his embers flared for an entirely different reason. He may have sworn off soulmates, but that hadn’t meant he’d completely shut off love from his life. He hadn’t meant to fall in love, or, was it a mere crush bred from admiration? 

But, he’d taken one look at Ushijima Wakatoshi, with his folded handkerchief, and impressive left-handed spikes, and knew he was interested. Further in his observation of this boy he kept meeting at volleyball matches and trainings, he'd just became more and more drawn to him. Was it his calm that kept gotten mistaken as stoicism or arrogance? Was it his unwavering confidence or endearing awkwardness?

Back then, when he told his cousin, Komori Motoya, of this development, he’d frowned disapprovingly, as if he could see right through Kiyoomi’s lies. 

He'd said; "Kiyo, not to distrust your judgment, but are you sure?"

The uncertainty he'd received from Motoya was enough to shake his belief. Deep down, he'd already known but he had firmly told his cousin that he was sure. Though, the guilt of lying ended up nearly consuming his conscience, sending him into a spiral of doubts and insecurity.

He'd known— He hadn’t been in love with Ushijima Wakatoshi. He was in love with the idea of him not being his soulmate. 

He didn’t understand it then. But while his infatuation grew with every volleyball match between Shiratorizawa Junior High and Dosho Junior High at nationals, he hadn’t realized then that his embers were burning stronger for someone else. 

Namely, Miya Atsumu from Yako Junior High, who he’d only known through observation and sports magazines. If Ushijima Wakatoshi was the best spiker in the whole nation, Miya Atsumu was the best setter. 

Kiyoomi had never really talked to him throughout all the years at nationals, but he’d seen enough to keep away at all costs. Atsumu clearly had a fire in him, and he had a feeling if he came any closer, he would be burned alive. Much like the embers from his burned home, Atsumu withered away to the back of his mind, especially when Ushijima Wakatoshi grew brighter in comparison. 

Then, almost instantly, the fire he burned for the spiker diminished a year later before his parents' divorce, when Ushijima Wakatoshi found his soulmate in his new teammate at Shiratorizawa High School. 

Kiyoomi was bitter, but not for the right reason. He hadn’t been angry for his unrequited feelings. They didn't matter. His feelings never mattered. It was just that even the Great Ushijima Wakatoshi had succumbed to the lies of soulmates. 

It only made him more determined to stand his grounds.

A year after his parents' divorce, after Ushijima became just like the rest, he turned sixteen, and the first thing he’d told his soulmate was “I don’t want you.” He built up his walls, waited hours in the dark until the anxiety in his chest went away and when he finally put them down, he felt whatever embers he had left withered to ashes and heard only silence on his soulmate’s behalf. 

Just the way he liked it. 

Good. He thought, relishing in the emptiness of his head. He felt the tremors of his link, almost as if it was calling him to reconnect with his unknown soulmate. He knew nothing of this mysterious person meant to be his other half, only that they were likely his age or older. 

He felt no curiosity to know. Thus, Kiyoomi ignored the link, and finally, allowed himself to be at peace.

When he awoke the next day, he caught dried tear tracks on his cheeks in the mirror, but he washed them away and continued with his day. He’d come to school and met up with his cousin, who looked at him expectantly.

Whatever Motoya had seen on his face was enough to silence him, and Kiyoomi received a look of utter disappointment but both knew that he wouldn’t listen anyway so they abandoned the argument before it even started.

It started with seeing a fire so bright that he could never look away from, and the provocations on the court that seem to burn that fire even brighter. Kiyoomi, ash-blooded and ruined bones, cannot resist the ever-burning Miya Atsumu who seems to especially hate him but not in the way Miya Atsumu usually hated.

Miya Atsumu was loud. He had no qualms in angering people with his harsh critiques. If he liked or hated someone, everyone within the vicinity can tell. They talked here and there, but their opposite yet similar personalities usually kept them apart. They saw each other often enough during training camps and championships so it was inevitable for them to interact. 

But something changed in their final year of high school and suddenly Atsumu wanted nothing to do with him. Kiyoomi wasn't all that bothered by it, honestly. He had enough experience with people avoiding him to care if one setter did. It became a running joke among their peers despite how hard they tried to hide it from him.

Once, he’s even walked past the locker room and heard his blabber-mouthed cousin jokingly say; “Kiyo is all bark but no bites. You’re not scared of him, are you, Miya?”

Kiyoomi paused by the door, curious despite himself. 

“No!” He heard Atsumu spluttered. “Why would ya say that ‘m scared of him just ‘cause I don’t talk to him?!”

“Well, you clearly don’t hate or like him. Everyone would know if you do.”

Kiyoomi faltered, his mouth pressed together under his mask. Right. His eyes flickered to the door, pondering. He didn't hear Atsumu’s response. He walked away but his never mind never stopped thinking, completely occupied with the idea of Atsumu being scared of him.

When he thought of those who actually were— which was plenty because Kiyoomi was not only a great volleyball player but has a nasty personality too— he envisioned empty faces and trembling hands. contempt eyes and tight-pressed lips. nameless names and flight-like movements.

It was bewildering that Miya Atsumu, loud, bright, gravity-defying, Miya Atsumu could be afraid of Sakusa Kiyoomi. Atsumu didn't seem like he was scared of anything. But as he kept observing the setter and their berth of distance— No, more like a stoned wall with jagged spikes keeping them apart, the more he suspected it to be true.

In any other situation, Kiyoomi wouldn't have cared less. In fact, he would’ve accepted it and left it be. But there was something about Miya Atsumu that attracts him. 

So, the semi finals of the last tournament approached and their teams met on court. Kiyoomi took one look at Atsumu’s poor yellow hair job and the way he shone underneath the lights— and couldn’t resist.

Their hands were sweaty but it didn't bother Kiyoomi. He didn't let go immediately when he told Miya Atsumu, "Keep your eyes on me."

When that ellicted a response from the boy, it sent a thrill down Kiyoomi's spine. In his heavy Hyogo accent, he retorted; "What are ya talkin' about? 'Course, I hafta. Yer my opponent..?"

Idiot.

Kiyoomi abruptly let go of his hand and turned around with a swipe of his palm over his shirt. He walked away, but the tips of his fingers curled inward to his palm, still warm from the earlier handshake. Motoya met his gaze, tilting his face with an almost understanding look on his face. Kiyoomi pretended he didn't see it.

When they won the game, Kiyoomi didn't look at the crowd or his cheering audience. He kept his eyes on Miya Atsumu, small and defeated. Perhaps provoking him at his defeat was poor sportsmanship, but he wanted Miya Atsumu to keep looking at him.

And he did. Wasn't that the most addicting of it all?

University was an experience, to say the least. Balancing between his studies and volleyball was a challenge but when had he ever let them bother him? As he grew older, his mother, now graying around her temples, had begun asking him about his love life.

"I'm too young to be thinking about it." He told her.

She gave him a disapproving look and said, "You're 20. I'd argue that it is time for you to date around."

"Okaasan." He said exasperatedly. The action caused his mask to rustle but neither mentioned its existence even though they were inside his mother's apartment. It wasn't as if he couldn't blame it on his personal aversion to germs, even if the reason wasn't entirely just that. "I'm already busy with studying and volleyball."

"Kiyoomi-kun."His mother chided in an almost serious tone. "I hope you aren't allowing the past to hold you back."

Kiyoomi stilled. He didn't know what to say. His mother's face softened, nearly in sorrow.

"Your soulmate." She mentioned. It was the first time she'd ever asked. "Have you been talking to them?"

"We're busy so we rarely do." He lied.

"I see." His mother looked disappointed. "Can you tell me about them?"

I don't know anything about them. He wanted to say, but he had a feeling that his mother would be even more disappointed in him. He had to lie. He didn't want his mother to know.

"They—" He faltered, unable to give her a response. He scrambled to find something to give her. Then, when he was just about to give in and tell her the truth, a certain blonde volleyball player showed up on the TV they left open.

Kiyoomi's eyes naturally drifted to the scene. The close-up of Miya Atsumu consumed the screen, his vicious smug grin shining under the harsh light of the court. Both of his hands were up in the air as he hollered with his teammates. The announcer gushed about his scoring streak.

"He's slightly older." Kiyoomi said. "A little obnoxious. Has an accent— He's strange."

His mother looked at the screen too. There was something soft in her gaze now. "Is he good to you?"

Not at all. "He doesn't seem to like me much."

His mother looked at him again, scrutinizing yet still kind. She asked, "Did he tell you that?"

He didn't have to. "No, but I like to provoke him a lot."

She laughed. "Son, you have to chase him, not chase him away!"

His heart sank. He looked away from his mother and the screen. His mother looked almost at peace now. She grabbed his hands, clammy and warm.

"I'm glad." She said. "You deserve it."

Guilt was heavy on his shoulders. Kiyoomi kept silent. He hoped his mother won't look up Miya Atsumu or she'd be surprised by the negative public perception. Would she disapprove of Kiyoomi with a casanova?

He had to shake himself out of that delusion. Miya Atsumu wasn't his soulmate. The probability of that was incredibly low.

What were the odds?

That conversation never left his mind, and he found himself trying to escape it. He followed his mother's advice, finally agreeing to blind dates and random hookups. They were alright, but never good enough.

Still, he pushed the discomfort. His feelings never mattered.

Then, Motoya came to visit him. He chattered away about his team, and his roommate, Suna Rintarou from Inarizaki. Kiyoomi vaguely remembered the spiker, but again, hadn't he been too focused on Miya Atsumu to actually recall him?

"Kiyo, I don't know what you did to Inarizaki but you're their number one enemy!" Motoya cackled. "No matter how much I badgered Sunarin, I couldn't get a reason from him."

Atsumu has good friends. Kiyoomi thought.

"Enough about that." Motoya slammed his hands over his knees, sitting crossed legs on the floor of Kiyoomi's dormitory floor. "I heard that you're quite active yourself."

From the way he was wiggling his eyebrows, he was not talking about Kiyoomi's studies or volleyball.

Kiyoomi released an exasperated sigh. "Where did you even hear that from?"

"Oh sweet child, you know nothing about the extensive rumor grapevines in the volleyball league, don't you?" Motoya chided. Upon receiving a deadpanned look from Kiyoomi, he continued, "Well? What's up with the fooling around?"

"I'm not fooling around." Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. "I'm a young male athlete. Am I supposed to be celibate for the rest of my life?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, Kiyo, celibacy does seem like something you would partake in."

That earned his cousin a smack on the head. He was always meticulous with who he went out with. Hygiene was always the first checkbox in his list. Despite it, Motoya was relentless. And so, Kiyoomi told him about his 'fooling around' and what led up to it. He was hesitant to mention the lies, but he was never one to keep secrets from his cousin. An array of emotions flashed across Motoya's face, it was almost comical.

"You do have a crush on Miya Atsumu." He said.

Kiyoomi wanted to deny but no matter how he'd say it, his cousin's mind was already set.

"Your behavior at the last tournament made sense now." Motoya snickered. Then, he hesitated, no longer amused by the situation. "Using Miya Atsumu as a scapegoat aside, you.. Do you not want to make it come true?"

"True what?"

"Reconnecting with your soulmate." Motoya said. "I mean Obachan seems very open to that idea. Why won't you try?"

Kiyoomi sighed, rubbing a thumb over the mole on the other. "It's complicated." He admitted.

"Kiyo." Motoya exhaled. "What happened was not because they were soulmates. If a couple broke up because they met over a volleyball match, is the sport to blame?"

"That's not the same." Kiyoomi argued. "That's not divine intervention. Biology. What's written in stone."

"It's still fate." Motoya said gently. "Just because it didn't work out for your parents, doesn't mean it wouldn't work out for you. Or other people. Me."

You wouldn't get it. Kiyoomi wanted to say. A parent's love is your first love. Their relationship dictated and set an example for their children. The love two parents shared had to be enough. And if their love couldn't withstand, then what about their children, the product of that love? Maybe Kiyoomi's perception was screwed. Maybe he blamed the red thread of fate for sealing that connection between a mismatched pair.

"Anyone else can believe what they want." Kiyoomi said instead.

Motoya's frown eased. "Just not you."

"Just not me." He agreed.

"That's.." Motoya had a distant look in his eyes, one Kiyoomi felt familiar with whenever he would telepathically talk to his soulmate. "Sorry." He grimaced when he came to.

"Does Emi-san need something?" Kiyoomi asked, dismissing the heaviness in the atmosphere.

"She was just asking what she should make for dinner. Don't worry about it." Motoya paused, scrutinizing Kiyoomi once more. He thought his cousin would finally let it go. It wasn't their first conversation on that topic either.

"Hey." Motoya nudged him when he reached for his laptop to play the volleyball match they wanted to watch. Kiyoomi grunted and gave him a look. His cousin had a serious look on his face as he said, "Try it out. Just once. I'll never bother you about it again."

Kiyoomi swallowed.

"I'll think about it."

Kiyoomi thought about it.

He didn't want to, but when had his mind ever cooperate with him? He kept thinking about it. When he was supposed to be studying. During drills and matches. In class when his lecturers were teaching. When he was in bed, trying to sleep. It was when he came back from a date with a girl from his English Literature class that he'd had enough of thinking.

It was a random Wednesday morning. He was sitting on a bench at the varsity lake, and appreciating the breeze. He didn't know why he decided it was at that very time he wanted to do it, but if he'd gone back to his dormitory, he doubted he would actually do it. It felt weird to envision a rope in his mind and tugging at it until the dust stirred and he felt a connection come alive.

Like the genius he was, with nothing in plan, he said; "Hey."

The connection seemed to falter but there was no response from the other side. Somehow, Kiyoomi knew his soulmate was listening but suddenly, the connection completely disappeared as if it never existed. Kiyoomi froze, his heart squeezing in his chest as if he was about to stop breathing. His mind felt empty. His soul ached. He didn't know what was going on.

Did I surprise my soulmate that he got into an accident and died? Kiyoomi shakily pulled out his phone and began googling for answers.

One explanation immediately soothed his anxiety; Telepathy blocking pill is a temporary measure to halt the telepathy connection between soulmates. It does not diminish the connection. However, overuse could lead to permanent damage to the connection. It can become fatal.

Kiyoomi should've taken the hint. His soulmate didn't want to talk to him. But he remembered the way his whole body froze up like part of him had just died, he couldn't move. He waited, and waited. Hours spent on the bench until he could finally feel the fragile connection return.

And so, he tried again, "I know you're listening."

No response. But Kiyoomi knew his soulmate was still listening to him. A part of him was a little angry, but he was reasonable enough to know they had the right too. Hadn't he once shut him out this way too? At least his soulmate hadn't mentally blocked their connection until he shut up the way he did.

He tried again nearly an hour later, still stuck at that bench even when the sun was setting. He was thinking of how to start. What did his soulmate deserve to hear after getting rejected so harshly?

"I'm sorry." Kiyoomi started. It felt strange. Had he ever apologized to anyone before? "I'm sorry for rejecting you. I'm sorry for hurting you." He faltered. "I'm sorry I wasn't ready for you."

Kiyoomi was still not ready, but he'd promised Motoya he would try. And if his soulmate decided there and then that they wanted nothing to do with him, so be it. It was still quiet on the other side. Kiyoomi was beginning to feel restless. A little irritated. He looked up to the sky, now filled with stars. He wondered if his soulmate was looking at them too.

That little thought prompted him to say, "If… you ever find it in you to talk to me again, to fix this, you can find me. My name is Sakusa Kiyoomi."

A name is the beginning of a person, right? It was only fitting that his name became a door for his soulmate to open.

He waited again. Soon, it became increasingly difficult to ignore his lonely figure in the darkness. He sighed, wanting to give up now. He tried. That should count as something, right? Kiyoomi lifted himself off the bench and just then—

"I don't want ya either."

And Kiyoomi was stunned. He fell back on that bench. The world around him faded away. He blinked, but all he could see was the face that matched that voice. That accent.

It threw him back to the lies he told his mother. To Miya Atsumu coming on screen like it was a divine bestowment— and it was.

He remembered the hostility. the provocations. the avoidance. Every brief and small encounters he had with the setter. Every word. Every glares.

They were hateful.

Miya Atsumu wasn't one to keep his mouth shut. If he liked someone, he would let it be known. If he hated someone, he never shied away from it too.

Sakusa Kiyoomi had tried for years to get a reaction out ot him. At first, out of curiosity. Eventually, it was because he wanted it.

Miya Atsumu hated Sakusa Kiyoomi.

And his silence was all the answer he needed.

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear fate laughing at him but it was Miya Atsumu's voice in his head that repeated like a broken record.

"I don't want ya either."

Ah. Kiyoomi came to when he felt something wet falling onto his cheeks. He wiped them away, but they keep falling. When was the last time he actually cried?

He never felt truly this alone. But, what about Atsumu? had he cried back when Kiyoomi rejected him? Did he struggle to accept the rejection?

The rejection Kiyoomi received didn't sting as much as the realization that Kiyoomi had hurt Miya Atsumu to the point he wouldn't even express his hatred for Kiyoomi verbally.

Idiot. He thought, digging his nails into his palm. Idiot. Idiot.

He thought of his parents. Their divorce. Their fights. His mother's heartbreak. When he looked into the lake, and saw the reflection of himself through the light from the moon, he saw his father.

But his father was never remorseful of what happened. His father left him and his mother, never looked back. Wouldn't it be easier to just cut his loss?

He remembered his mother. He remembered Miya Atsumu and how he shone on the court like the brightest sun, attracting everyone within his vicinity like gravity.

He wanted to touch the sun.

Kiyoomi looked away from his reflection and retrieved his mask from his pocket. He wore it over his face and let it stay hidden, even when his tears quickly soak the cloth.

He was truly his father's son.

But he was also his mother's.

And so when he was presented with pamplets of teams that wanted him after he won MVP for collegiate volleyball, his hand moved before his mind did.

He picked up MSBY Black Jackals'.

His mother gave him a knowing look. "That's a good team." She said.

"They have potential." Kiyoomi agreed. Then hesitated, "Will you be alright, okaasan?"

His mother laughed. "You are not my only son, Kiyoomi-kun."

Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears as she held his hands and squeezed. She gently said, "All I want is for you to be happy, Kiyoomi-kun."

PART 2 - THE EMBERS

"Osaka is really far."

Phone trapped between his shoulder and ear, Kiyoomi struggled to stir his seaweed soup. His older sister remained oblivious of his occupation. With that, Kiyoomi gave up and placed his phone on the kitchen counter. He put the call on speaker. Thankfully, his floormates were all in their respective rooms. Hinata Shoyou and Bokuto Koutarou were probably busy talking to their soulmates. And Miya Atsumu.. His ladle stutters.

His soulmate was probably busy avoiding him.

"Kiyoomi?" His sister called and Kiyoomi almost jumped.

"Sorry Aneki, I'm actually cooking right now." He said, but he wasn't really apologetic.

"I can't believe our youngest is out of the nest and cooking for his survival now. Make sure not to poison yourself." She laughed.

Kiyoomi scowled, "I've been surviving on my own for years. I went to university, remember?"

"Yeah, in Tokyo." There was rustling on the other side. "Why Osaka, Ototo?"

He hadn't meant to, but he looked at the hallway that led to Atsumu's room. The night before had been a shit show.

"He didn't want me." Kiyoomi could still hear him. "But I ain't gonna stick around and find out. 'm not a fan of givin' out second chances."

"Because I want to." He said to his sister, ignoring the ache in his chest. "It's been.." difficult. fun. fine? What am I even feeling now? "—great. It's been great."

"Hm. Well, come back to Tokyo once in a while. Okaasan must be lonely—" His sister hesitated. "And you haven't seen Otousan since you graduated high school. He misses you."

Kiyoomi dropped his ladle into the soup, no longer hungry. He must have been quiet for too long, because his sister called for him again.

"Right. I'll.. I'll think about visiting Otousan. Say hi to the kids and your husband for me." He said and quickly hang up before his sister could say anything. For good measure, he even sent a text to his older brother to tell him he was fine.

He didn't know how long he stared off the distance, but he smelled something burning and Hinata screeching about his food before snapping out of it and hastily switching off the fire. He didn't bother eating anymore.

He didn't understand what was wrong with himself.

"I'm trying to fix things, Miya. Us. At least, meet me in the middle."

"I was sixteen, Miya. I was sixteen when I rejected you. It was sudden. I wasn't ready for you."

"Do you think just because you're my soulmate, you're entitled to my life? Or my attention? To my heart? Newsflash, Miya, soulmates are shit! They don't mean anything."

"At least I can say I tried."

"But I guess if even fate can make mistakes, then I can too."

Kiyoomi curled up into himself, every word that had left his mouth during the confrontation stabbed him in his heart. He had hurt Miya Atsumu again. He had hurt his soulmate again. He couldn't excuse himself. He was an asshole. He didn't know what to do.

If he told Motoya about what happened, his cousin would disown him. If his mother knew, she would too. He didn't know why he was angry. Why he couldn't keep his composure. Why he kept lying. What was wrong with him?

In the darkness of his room, his phone lit up with a notification. He didn't bother checking it. It was probably his father telling him to visit. He didn't want to. He didn't even want to leave his bed. He couldn't understand himself.

He hurt Miya Atsumu. He wanted to disappear.

"Don't touch that. It's unsanitary." Kiyoomi held Atsumu's hand. It was warm.

"Since when do ya care about bein' sanitary, Sunarin? Why aren't ya recordin' me instead?"

Right. Kiyoomi let go of his hand. He was meant to be EJP's Suna Rintarou. He hesitated and said, "My phone died."

He hadn't meant to lie about being Suna. He just wanted Atsumu to get back safe. When Atsumu kept staring at the crack in the pavement, Kiyoomi squatted now next to him to stare at it too. There was a lonely flower peeking from the crack, but Kiyoomi didn't understand why it was so special to Atsumu.

"What's so fascinating about the crack anyway?" He asked, because he couldn't help himself.

He'd never seen Atsumu this open with him. He didn't want to take advantage of it. But since he already burned the bridge between them, he wanted to at least see the other side. When Atsumu started crying again, Kiyoomi had to resist the urge to hold him.

"'s like me. A crack in the pavement. It shouldn't be there but it's there. An anomaly. A safety hazard."

Kiyoomi felt it was a little dramatic. Pavements weren't usually made to be absolutely perfect. Cracks were just part of it. But Atsumu kept sobbing to himself and Kiyoomi remained silent. He wanted to comfort him but all he'd done so far was hurting him. He didn't dare.

"Nobody wants a crack in the pavement, Sunarin."

Ah. Kiyoomi glanced at the crack, and somewhere in his chest, something did too.

"Nobody wants me. 'M a burden. I needta be fixed. That's the nature of cracked pavements."

Kiyoomi pushed down his own sadness. His own pain. His own heartbreak. His feelings never mattered. What was more important to him was this man he'd broken.

"You don't need to be fixed, Atsumu. Even flowers bloom from cracks in the pavement."

"What's good about a flower if there is nobody to care for it, Rin?"

Kiyoomi had to take a deep breath, his own eyes tearing up. He couldn't look at Atsumu, at the hurt he caused. He thought he was already punished by Atsumu's wrath, but this? this was his true punishment.

"Someone will come and care." He eventually said. Even if it's not me.

Predictably, the setter refused to accept that. He shook his head and said, "The flower from the crack in the pavement will die before anyone would deem it good enough to be cared for."

When Atsumu dropped his head against his shoulder and continued to cry like a child, Kiyoomi refused to move. He didn't deserve to touch the sun. He didn't deserve to be here at all. Then, a wave of cold breeze passed and Atsumu shivered. Kiyoomi found himself wrapping his arm around his shoulders to keep him warm.

"I just want someone ta care." He heard Atsumu mumble.

Kiyoomi waited a second. a minute. reeling from his punishment. He carefully manouvered Atsumu to his back. He didn't know how he did it, but he got Atsumu onto his back and carried him all the way back to the hotel. Every step was heavy, but it was not Atsumu— It was his conscience. His heart.

As soon as he dropped him off at Bokuto's, he went straight to Motoya's dormitory. His cousin wasn't amused to have been woken up by him but he let him in and tried hard not to make a sound as to avoid waking up Suna Rintarou in the other room. Once they were alone in Motoya's room, Kiyoomi sank into the mattress.

"Kiyo, I care about you and all but must you do this at 2 in the morning?" Motoya grumbled as he sank next to him. "I'm drunk as hell. I'm not sober enough for this."

"Good." Kiyoomi said. And then, he cried.

Drunken, out of it, Motoya could only panic as silently as he could while he tried to comfort his distraught cousin. It was that night that Kiyoomi understood.

He was afraid. Deathly so. And Miya Atsumu paid the price.

"I don't talk to my folks anymore. ‘Samu still does, though. He’s probably gonna go back that weekend.”

Oh.

Caught off guard, Kiyoomi found himself responding, "My parents are divorced. Choosing to go back to either of them is just a point for them to use against each other.”

Well, his mother wouldn't but his father definitely do.

The damage was done though. Atsumu was wary of him. He could tell. But, he dealt with that after he finally went to visit his father.

The stay was stifling. His father introduced him to his girlfriend. They never mentioned her soulmate. Kiyoomi didn't like her. She was too poised. Too perfect. Too pretentious.

As she talked about her hometown, she'd patted his hand and he moved it away, ignoring his father's glare and her hurt gaze.

"Treat her respectfully. We will get married soon." His father scolded him.

Kiyoomi nearly scoffed. He didn't bother retorting.

His father's girlfriend must have seen the look on his face because she turned to him and laughed awkwardly.

"Now, Kiyoomi-kun is probably tired. He should stay another night." She said.

"No." Kiyoomi said firmly. His stomach twisted with disgust at the casual use of his name. "I'll leave now."

"Kiyoomi." His father called out just as he was about to exit the door. "You are not a child anymore."

Kiyoomi's grip on the knob tightened. He didn't even look at his father and his girlfriend, both standing at the genkan.

"I didn't think you'd noticed." He responded, and left for Shizuoka to meet Motoya.

Despite being out through torture from Suna, and after talking to Motoya for his input, he couldn't stop thinking. His father was right. He wasn't a child anymore. He was done being afraid. With a newly revived resolve, Kiyoomi returned and tried again. Not that he ever stopped trying. But this time, it felt different.

"I brought back food. You better come out or I'll kick down your door, Miya."

When he released the connection, it didn't feel as awkward anymore. Almost natural. He set out the food for his soulmate. He heard Atsumu leave his room and pad down the hallway. Kiyoomi looked up from his phone and let out a breath upon seeing his soulmate. It hadn't even been long, but he would never tire from seeing Atsumu in the flesh.

As Atsumu ate, Kiyoomi kept his eyes on the setter. He would be a fool if he didn't notice his soulmate's state.

"You've been crying." He said bluntly.

Atsumu flinched, as if he hadn't realized that either.

"Are you homesick?"

"No." Atsumu said sharply, the familiar fire that had caught Kiyoomi's attention in the first place returning for a second.

"Then, why did you cry?"

"Why do ya care?"

"I don't."

Kiyoomi cursed the defensiveness on his tongue. He wanted to be better. He had to stop hurting Atsumu.

Atsumu shrugged. It was silent, until the setter asked, "How was Komori-kun?"

Kiyoomi remembered the torture Suna had put him through. He made a face. “He’s.. fine. I met Suna-san too.” 

At least that seemed to entertain Atsumu. When Kiyoomi made him laugh by telling him his suspicion about Suna, he felt accomplished. He made Atsumu laugh for once. And he didn't want the conversation to end, so he quickly asked about Osamu.

It was clearly a mistake since Atsumu simmered down and shrugged.

“yeah. Folks prolly want to see him. ‘Samu hasn’t gone back in forever.”

“Like you?”

“Well, the difference is they actually care that ‘Samu doesn’t come back.” Atsumu answered offhandedly. As if it didn't hurt him at all.

It hurt Kiyoomi.

"What about yer folks?" Atsumu asked, as if noticing the change in his face.

“Ah.” Sakusa stilled. “Well, they’re not fun to be around with.”

 “Divorced, right?” Atsumu asked.

 “Yeah. I guess fate made the mistake of matching them up. They finally had enough trying to fix it when I was fifteen.” Sakusa deadpanned.

Silence.

Fuck. Kiyoomi froze, watching the shadows falling over Atsumu's face. His soulmate was closing up again, not doubt connecting the dots behind Kiyoomi's strange behavior. His silence was dooming. He'd rather Atsumu lash out at him than locking himself away.

He'd reached out and said, "Miya—"

But Miya Atsumu left, and Kiyoomi knew he fucked up again.

“Yer only sayin’ that ‘cause ya don’t want to end up like yer parents.”

Kiyoomi stood over the railing. He didn't know how he ended up near their dormitory but the river flowing under the river looked tempting. He tried counting down to 100, and at one point, even started synching his breathing with every number. Yet, his mind refused to focus and he kept going back to one.

Had he really said such horrible things to Miya Atsumu? How could he let himself unravel like that? Why couldn't he stop being a child?

“Maybe you were right, Miya. Maybe you will die before someone deems you’re good enough.”

His hands reached out to curl around the metal. He kept staring at the river, memories of the fight replaying inside his head. The words he'd said. The hurt he'd caused. When his home burned down six years ago, was he the only one who survived or was he walking ashes? He wanted to fade away. He couldn't stop remembering the pain in Atsumu's face.

He wanted to di— "Omi-?"

Kiyoomi snapped out of it just as a blur of white and black blocked his sight. He hadn't realized he'd moved away from the river in the direction of that voice. Bokuto Koutarou in jogging clothes filled his vision, looking both surprised and worried.

"You were dangerously close to the railing there." Bokuto said, reaching out to tug him further away.

"Oh." Kiyoomi murmured, his lowered, trembly voice could be blamed on his mask obscuring his mouth. "Sorry, I was distracted."

"Hm. Why you're all alone here, Omi-kun?" Bokuto asked lightly. His golden eyes felt like they were seeing right through him.

"I—" He winced as the memory of the fight assaulted his mind again. "I was trying to think."

"Well, I hope you won't mind me thinking with you." Bokuto said, firmly planting himself next to Kiyoomi and turning to the river.

Kiyoomi was almost annoyed, but misery quickly overpowered any kind of feelings he had. They remained silent, which almost distracted Kiyoomi. For as long as he'd known Bokuto, he never knew Bokuto could keep this still. It was almost.. nice. Though, he didn't feel like he deserved to feel calm.

"Y'know, you don't have to tell me anything but I've been told I give great advice." Bokuto said.

Kiyoomi nearly gave him a doubtful look but Bokuto noticed it anyway. He cackled, surprising the nearby birds and making them fly away. Kiyoomi had no time to even hide his wince.

"You won't believe me until you try it." Bokuto nudged him. Then, the humor was gone from his face. "You've been struggling. I don't think I have ever seen you really fine since you joined the team."

I've been struggling? Kiyoomi wanted to laugh. "Someone else has it worse. And I caused it."

"Then make it up to them." Bokuto retorted easily.

Kiyoomi chuckled without humor. "All I ever do is make it worse."

"Then keep trying."

"I'm—" Kiyoomi's voice cracked. "I am."

Bokuto stilled. He placed a hand over Kiyoomi's shoulder and squeezed. For once, Kiyoomi accepted the gesture. "I don't know what's going on with you but I see you."

Kiyoomi felt like he didn't deserve it.

Bokuto let go of his shoulder and peered up to the sky. "We could never truly live without hurting others." He said. "Life is all about repetition. You hurt the people you love. You make them cry. You screw up. But you make it up to them. You make them laugh. You fix things."

"It's a cycle that continues with every person you meet. You can only participate in it—" Bokuto faltered. "Forgiveness.. is a difficult concept for most. Even the most saint struggle with forgiving others. Though, I truly believed that forgiving yourself is the hardest part of it all."

Kiyoomi hated it; Forgiveness.

"Omi-kun." Bokuto looked away from the sky and met his gaze. "The weather is nice today."

Kiyoomi looked up, and pretended that his eyes weren't stinging.

“Do ya think doin’ that would make me forgive you?” 

“Of course, not.” Sakusa doesn’t waver. “I know I have to try harder to earn your forgiveness.”

“And what If I never do, Sakusa? What If I never forgive ya?”

Kiyoomi didn't know what to say. He felt helpless. Powerless. He was tired. But he kept trying anyway.

“Then, I will have to learn how to live with it.”

Bokuto was right— Forgiveness is difficult.

“Stop me. Don’t let me give up. Please.”

Kiyoomi was a liar, but he tried to be genuine with Miya Atsumu. He tried, and tried, and kept failing and failing that he didn't want to hurt Miya Atsumu ever again. He was nothing more than just ashes. He no longer had embers to warm himself. He had no worth for Atsumu, and he will learn to live with it.

He kept his distance. He didn't look at Atsumu. He didn't talk to him. It felt like torture, knowing how close Atsumu was to him but so far away at the same time. Miya Atsumu truly was like the sun— And Kiyoomi craved the fire. It was no longer a matter of want, but need. Yet, the sun was untouchable.

And Miya Atsumu wasn't his to touch.

The months that passed felt like a blur. Kiyoomi didn't know what to do with himself anymore. He threw himself into his career, and avoided Atsumu as best as he could. He didn't want to make his soulmate uncomfortable.

Then came Atsumu's birthday. He followed Hinata and Bokuto to get cake. He insisted on figs, only to give Atsumu a taste of Hyogo. He returned to the dormitory, content to hiding inside his room while they celebrated Atsumu's birthday in the communal area despite Hinata and Bokuto's insistence for him to stay. He ended up finding Atsumu in his room and the paper he used to jot down observations about the setter in his hand.

He froze. He prayed that Atsumu didn't check his drawers.

And the confession happened. Kiyoomi wanted to remember it wholly, but he thought he was possessed at one point. He remembered feeling anxious. hurt. hopeful. A myriad of emotions he rarely ever let himself feel.

“I don’t know much about love but choosin’ someone over and over again is the greatest act of love I’ve ever known.” 

But most of all— He felt happy.

Silence.

Kiyoomi took off his mask, and he was smiling so hard it hurt. Something in his chest stirred. He didn't remember what he said after, only that he cupped Atsumu's face, touched him the way he'd always wanted to and kissed him.

“I’m not gonna leave.” He'd promised. “I choose you.”

It was a promise he would keep all his life.

PART 3 - REIGNITED FIRE

"Ya love me."

How easy it is for his soulmate to say it, to put a name on the feelings Kiyoomi feels towards him. With the warmth pulsating in his veins, he responds just as easily; "Of course I do."

Then, because he can't let Miya Atsumu get a bigger head than he already has, adds, "I still wish you stop spilling your food everywhere everytime you eat."

The laugh that leaves his soulmate's mouth is carefree and so full of joy that Kiyoomi is in denial that he'd made him do it. Through the corner of his eyes, staying vigilant as ever, he sees Miya Osamu lurking around but at the sight of Atsumu laughing, something in his face eases and the malice seems to slightly dims. Kiyoomi averts his gaze before he catches Miya Osamu's attention again.

It feels a little surreal to return to Onigiri Miya after the last time he was kicked out. He remembers Osamu's fury all too well, the way he pointed a knife to his face and said; "I don't want ta know what the hell is goin' on with yer sick head, but ya get yet shit together or ya leave my brother the fuck alone."

He hopes he's gotten his shit together— Or at least, he hopes he appears to be.

"What are ya thinkin' so hard about?" Atsumu's voice infilitrates his head, breathing life into their connection. He playfully pokes the creases between Kiyoomi's eyebrows.

Even though he knows Osamu cannot hear their link, Kiyoomi still looks around carefully and replies, "It's nothing."

Atsumu frowns, the previous joy gone instantly. That's how his soulmate is, he'd noticed. Miya Atsumu's moods tend to flip and flop at the random, as if he couldn't resist feeling thousands of emotions in one go. It's unpredictable. Kiyoomi swallows nervously. Fortunately, his soulmate doesn't push and leaves it be, allowing Hinata to distract him. Kiyoomi still inches closer to Atsumu as they talk, blatantly wrapping his arm around Atsumu's waist even with Osamu around.

Just because he can.

Being with Miya Atsumu is different from what he'd expected— Both in a good and bad way.

Their relationship is still too fresh for Kiyoomi to let down his guard. He doesn't think he'll ever will. Miya Atsumu had been put through absolute hell because of him, and Kiyoomi had sworn he'd make it up to him for the rest of their lives. He goes out of his way for Atsumu, though he's still reserved when it comes to showing affection. Not that Atsumu wants to be publicly flaunted. He'd mentioned that he had enough of the public when he was sleeping around.

Kiyoomi treats Atsumu well. It's evident with how many people would tell him that. Even Bokuto had let go of his anger at the way he'd treated his soulmate— Though, Kiyoomi suspects once he'd calmed down from his tantrum back then, he'd already understood and accepted it. After all, he was a witness to Kiyoomi's state at the bridge.

Atsumu makes him happy. Kiyoomi finds joy in the little things he can do for his soulmate, like letting Atsumu fidldle with his fingers or lean against him to look at his phone. Or, waking up with Atsumu in his arms and tugging him out of bed to go for a jog. Or listening to Atsumu's random thoughts and just existing.

Kiyoomi enjoys learning more about Atsumu. His childhood memories, the good and the bad. His former and present relationships. His idiotic ideas and wise advices. Miya Atsumu is a good person.

But, there are days where they'll fight, and those days are plenty, just as how Atsumu had warned him.

At first, Kiyoomi would fight back. And he would say something mean. He would see the hurt all over Atsumu's face. He would regret it and apologize. Now, he just.. listens. He doesn't respond. He keeps his mouth shut. He doesn't ever want to hurt Miya Atsumu again. He will let himself drown in discomfort, because the discomfort of his neglected feelings is better to deal with than the discomfort of hurting his soulmate.

He would leave the room and return after Atsumu calms down. They would talk it out. But, lately, the more they fight, the more devastated Atsumu is. It's not as if they fight all the time. Kiyoomi knows they're mostly good with each other. It's as if Atsumu is waiting for Kiyoomi to blow up on him, but he wouldn't. Not ever. He doesn't know what went wrong. Or when it went wrong.

But, as Atsumu stands in front of him with tears soaking his cheeks and his face scrunching up in frustration, Kiyoomi doesn't know what to do.

"Ya jerk. Say somethin'." He says, almost pleading.

Kiyoomi releases a deep sigh, running his hands over his face. He doesn't even remember what they're fighting about this time. He asks, "What do you want me to say, Atsumu?"

"Stop that." Atsumu begs now. He comes into Kiyoomi's space and shoves him lightly. "Fight back."

Kiyoomi averts his gaze. Another shove, firmer this time. He doesn't even remember what they were even fighting about. Fortunately, they're both in Atsumu's room, where they spend most of their time in, so their unfortunate roommates couldn't bear witness to their fight again. Though, he doubts their raised voice hasn't alerted them.

"Don't ask me what to say. Or what to do. What do ya want to say? What do ya want to do?" Atsumu grips his hair. "Be honest with me."

"I've never lied to you." Kiyoomi says, feeling defensive now.

"Yer not honest with me either!" Atsumu yells. Then, he falls silent. He refuses to meet Kiyoomi's eyes. "It always feel like one step forward and two steps back with ya, Sakusa Kiyoomi."

Kiyoomi struggles to understand. Miya Atsumu isn't an easy person to handle, yet Kiyoomi doesn't think he'd done anything so far to warrant such a comment.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He asks, nearly demanding now.

Miya Atsumu falters. And stares at him. His voice cracks when he says, "A relationship is a partnership. There are two of us, right?"

Kiyoomi furrows his eyebrows in lieu of responding.

"We're equals— I didn't ask to be put on a pedestal, Omi." Atsumu reaches out to take him by the shoulders, almost shaking him now. "I don't want to be worshipped. I don't need ya to walk on yer toes around me. Fight back. Get mad at me. I ain't no angel, either. I hurt ya too. I said bad shit to yer face too. "

"That's different." Kiyoomi breathes. "I can take it."

"Well, 'm not fragile!" Atsumu lets go of his shoulders. He looks distraught now. "Kiyoomi, baby, who are you?"

Who am I? Kiyoomi stills. Don't you already know me? He wants to ask, yet he remains rigid in front of his soulmate. A simple question sends him back to when he was fifteen, in the arms of his mother, surrounded by cinders and smoulder. The product of a loveless pair of soulmates. The only remaining pillar of a broken marriage. The bane of your existence.

There you go again. Making it about yourself. Compartmentalize. Don't unravel.

"Omi?"

He's unraveling.

"Atsumu." He says, eerily calm. "Let's discuss this again tomorrow."

Despite hearing Atsumu's protest, and his curses, Kiyoomi evades his touch and leaves Atsumu's room. Vaguely, he notices Hinata and Bokuto peeking their heads out of their respective doors, but he ignores them all. He goes inside his room, and locks the door behind him.

It is way past midnight, yet Kiyoomi is staring at his ceiling.

Deep down, he knows that there is something inherently wrong with him. He'd been a hypocrite, bulldozing through the walls that made up Atsumu's insecurities, yet he finds its difficult to do the same for his lover. It's not as if he doesn't understand what his soulmate had told him but how is he to fix what is normal for him? He'd hurt Atsumu. He's making up for it. He tries, and tries, yet there's always fault in what he does.

His hand rises up to his hair, now long enough to brush against his eyelids. It's black. Like his father's. God damn it, everything about him is just his father.

On the other end of his link, it flutters to life and his dear soulmate is reaching out to him. Kiyoomi lets him project his thoughts, random as his soulmate rambles about his schedule as if they hadn't just fought. He doesn't have the heart to tell Atsumu to stop, to remind him that they had just fought. It would've been easier for him to pull up his own walls and cut the connection, but the last time he did it, didn't he almost lose Atsumu?

So, he lets Atsumu sway him into thinking that they're fine. That nothing is wrong. They'll just have another talk in the morning when the both of them cool off.

Then, his phone pings and Kiyoomi swipes it off the table to see who would message him late at night.

Every cell in Kiyoomi's body freezes.

"Omi?" Atsumu asks from his end, sensing his feelings.

Kiyoomi couldn't bring himself to respond.

His mind is reeling, far from the fight with his soulmate he'd just ran away from, but now on the opened text message displayed on his phone screen; the only light in his room. It's hard to ignore it. His face hasn't budged an inch. His body limp. In his mind, his futile countdown to a hundred keeps going back to zero.

Otousan

I'm getting married.

I would appreciate it if you attend the wedding.

Your mom would be pleased to have you there.

Okaasan? Okaasan being happy? That's not true. The "Mom" his bastard father could only refer to is his new wife. Kiyoomi is no longer a child. He will not send a reply denying his father's attempt. Hell, he will not even give him a response. Unlike his father, he wouldn't send a message, much less a big news, so late at night. He respects people and their downtime.

He's desperately trying to push down all of his feelings. He can't unravel. He needs to talk to Atsumu when they're both awake. He needs to fix things with his soulmate. He can't grieve. He can't scream. He can't. He—

"Hey, are ya okay?"Atsumu stresses. He can hear footsteps padding down his hallway, heading to his room. Then, audibly, Atsumu calls for him outside his door.

But Kiyoomi is shattering, and he really doesn't want his soulmate to see.

Okaasan. Fuck. His mother.

Kiyoomi feels as if his body is no longer his own. He can feel himself sitting up, and jumping to his feet. He is scrolling through his phone and booking a flight home at the nearest hour. Just as he opens the door, he finds Atsumu standing with worry streaking the lines of his face. He reaches out to touch Kiyoomi but Kiyoomi instinctively steps back.

He couldn't bare the hurt blooming all over his soulmate's features and so he directs his gaze to their feet.

"Hey, what's going on?" Atsumu asks, his voice strained to keep it low as to not wake any of their roommates. He doesn't attempt to touch Kiyoomi again.

"I have to head back home." Kiyoomi finally says, his mind roaring with anxiety. It must have shown on his face because Atsumu doesn't argue. Instead, his soulmate steps aside and merely follows him to the front door.

When his fingers curl around the knob and his feets are shoved into his shoes without care, he feels the soulmate connection stir with both frustration and concern. Kiyoomi hesitates, looking over his shoulder to meet Atsumu's gaze. There isn't any fight in his soulmate, and isn't that damning?

"I'll come back." Kiyoomi promises. "Get some sleep."

Atsumu looks like he's going to argue, but inevitably, he sighs and nods without a word.

Then, Kiyoomi is gone. He pushes down his discomfort, his remorse. Pushes away the image of leaving Miya Atsumu behind and the look on his soulmate's face.

His mother needs him.

“I will care for you, Kiyoomi. We will take care of each other. We do not need anyone else.”

Their relationship falling apart is not his fault. He knows this. He's old enough to understand. But isn't he their last straw? Isn't he the product of their love? Isn't he still responsible for not being enough to keep them together?

At one point, Kiyoomi's phone dies. He spends the rest of the trip counting down to a hundred. If he isn't so out of it, he would've noticed Atsumu joining in but when he finally recognizes a second set of voice stopping at zero and starting again from a hundred, he lets himself focus completely on his soulmate's voice. He hadn't even notice he was projecting. It used to be difficult to do that, but recently, it feels as easy as breathing.

Atsumu doesn't press for answers, though surely he'd noticed. He keeps counting, never stopping until he finally peters off, likely having fallen asleep.

When he knocks on his mother's door hours later, her eyes are slightly red and puffy. She looks surprised by his presence, but quickly composes herself and lets him in. She hesitates at the genkan and shoots a look the mask— or the lack of— on his face. In his rush to leave, he'd forgotten it.

"Not that I'm unhappy to see you, Kiyoomi-kun, but don't you have practice tomorrow?"

No he doesn't. It's the weekend.

Without a word, Kiyoomi steps forward and wraps his arms around her frail body. She tenses, at first, then eventually melts into his embrace. Her hands are trembling when they reach to clutch at his shirt.

"Foolish child, I'm fine." She murmurs, but her voice is thick with tears.

"You're not." He murmurs. I'm not. Still, they hold each other like they're each other's only lifelines. It brings him back, keeps bringing him back, to that night when he was fifteen; the promise where they'd take care of each other.

"Kiyoomi-kun, I am not fragile." She sounds muffled. When they part, she grabs his face and properly looks him in the eyes. "I will be fine. It hurts now, but I'll live again."

He can only nod, unconvinced. Her eyes narrow, and she's tilting his face in scrutiny. She must have seen something, because her face softens with affection and worry.

"Sweet child, are you okay?" She asks, and isn't that a loaded question? The gentle caress of her thumbs only serves to make him feel delicate. "I haven't seen you without a mask in years."

"I—" He falters, exposed. "I didn't know how you'd feel with me.." looking exactly like your soulmate.

She frowns, then gently leads him into the kitchen. She sits him down at the dining table and starts making tea. Every once in a while, she would look over her shoulder to give him a contemplative look tinged with regret.

"Your father and I—" She starts, putting down a cup of tea in front of him. "—We were beautiful."

Kiyoomi takes a sip but he doesn't actually taste anything.

"We were soulmates, and we were in love. Our marriage was governed by the kind of destiny you read in fairy tales." She laughs. "That does sound, what do kids these days call it? cringe, yes. But, it was the truth."

"I see." Kiyoomi says, for a better lack of response.

His mother sits down in front of him with a cup of her own. "It is divine intervention that matches us, but humans are fickle. They don't always follow their fates and they have free will."

"The brighter the light, the darker the shadows. Your father and I let the beauty of our bond overshadow the ugliness. As you can see, it builds resentment and resentment breeds hatred." She smiles bitterly. "For every relationship, there should be a solid foundation but ours weren't there in the first place."

"Is that why you got divorced?" Kiyoomi finally asks.

His mother shrugs. "Maybe. He didn't communicate well. I pretended everything was fine. We hurt each other and we weren't happy."

She reaches out to hold his hand which he allows. With a squeeze, she says, "We hurt you."

Kiyoomi swallows, unable to look away from their hands, and doesn't deny it.

"I've wronged you, Kiyoomi-kun. I burdened you with my relationship." She murmurs. When Kiyoomi tries to protest, she waves him off. "Remember that night when you asked me if fate could make a mistake with soulmates?"

Kiyoomi can only nod.

"I don't think so. Even when your father and I didn't work out, the bond still gave me a good life, as temporary as it was but Kiyoomi-kun, my life isn't limited to the life I had with your father. I have lived without him. I am living without him— And it's still my life. Not his. Not ours."

She smiles, and for once, Kiyoomi sees himself in her. They have the same smile.

She says, "I could never blame fate for making us soulmates. After all, the bond gave me my children. All of you are a product of our love, the proof that it existed."

Kiyoomi swallows, for once, feeling all of his beliefs shaken. Somewhere in him, the embers stir.

"What difference does a soulmate bond do? Humans still fall in love and break up. Humans still hurt each other and make it up to each other. Humans will move on and find a better ending. Humans still make choices."

With another squeeze, Kiyoomi finally looks up and meets his mother's eyes. They're no longer red, only fiery and determined. She no longer looks fragile.

"You've always been a filial son. You're not good at expressing your emotions, and you don't seem to think that you matter. That was my fault." She caress his hand. "I'll be fine, I promise you. But you? I want you to stop being afraid that I'll break and focus more on making yourself happy."

"I.." Kiyoomi stammers. "I'm scared."

He's scared to leave his mother, scared to let his father move on. He's scared of going back and fucking it up with Atsumu. He's scared of letting himself burn again. He doesn't believe he could live.

"Then, do it scared." His mother says sternly.

His mother wouldn't have known about the fight he's abandoned with Atsumu. His mother wouldn't have known the shadows that plagued his existence. But she didn't have to. He's no longer a child.

"Mama." He croaks. "Do you have a phone charger?"

That earns him a laugh and a playful scolding, but eventually, she lends him her charger and the phone lights up again.

0 missed calls.

0 unread messages.

And a soulmate link that he finally acknowledges.

"I'm sorry. I'll be home soon." He tells his soulmate. He can feel Atsumu's anger. His worry. His hurt.

But this time, when the fear almost chokes him, Atsumu replies curtly; "I'll be waiting."

Strangely, the thought of returning home— a home he believed had burned to the ground— doesn't scare him.

Sakusa Kiyoomi counts down to a hundred upon his drop off in front of the dormitory. He can feel Atsumu's desire to join his counting, but Atsumu keeps quiet. When he reaches their apartment, it's nearly desolate, except for his fuming soulmate in the communal area.

Miya Atsumu is a wreck. His hair is all over the place. His eyes are red. His cheeks are soaked with tears. He doesn't quite meet Kiyoomi's eyes.

Kiyoomi feels a stab of a guilt. Is it always in his nature to hurt the one he loves?

But…

"Life is all about repetition. You hurt the people you love. You make them cry. You screw up. But you make it up to them. You make them laugh. You fix things."

Didn't Bokuto tell him that once?

"Atsumu." He says in lieu of a greeting.

He can see the way his soulmate had to visibly take a deep breath and almost winces. Maybe he isn't as fearless as he thinks he is. He feels small, fragile. This time, Atsumu isn't the delicate one. Maybe, he was never the delicate one.

When Atsumu doesn't come near him, probably in fear that Kiyoomi would pull away, it hurt worse than it did when they fought. Instead, his soulmate runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

"Atsumu? That's all you have to say?"

Kiyoomi hesitates, but he closes the distance between them and plants himself right infront of Atsumu. He isn't touching him. He doesn't know Atsumu would allow it. He deserves as much.

Facing his soulmate, Kiyoomi looks at the hurt he caused. hears the same argument Atsumu kept pulling him into. A part of him wants to run away, but another part of him wants to hold Atsumu close. Maybe he could start screaming and hurling words he knows would anger Atsumu. He can deal with anger. He's familiar with it.

But he struggles against the waves of his own emotions, pulling him more and more into the deep trenches of his vulnerability.

"My father is getting married." He starts. "And I couldn't deal with it."

That's not the point of it, but it was always him who was in denial, not his mother. Sensing that Kiyoomi isn't done, Atsumu remains silent. He still hasn't tried touching him.

"You were right. I wasn't honest with you." He falters, digging his nails into his palm. "My father met someone new. He introduced me to her around the time we were fighting during break."

Something akin to realization crosses Atsumu's eyes, but still, he keeps silent.

"I hated it. Don't get me wrong, I've long accepted that my parents would never get back together. He was absent most of my life, and it hurt me knowing that he was living happily while my mother and I tried to keep everything together— and my mother, she was fragile for a very long time. I could only hope that I wouldn't break her the way my father did."

Kiyoomi closes his eyes, blinking away the tears that formed in his eyes. When was the last time Atsumu had seen him cry? Right, during the phone call with his cousin on the balcony.

"I wasn't fair to you. I've never been fair to you. I look exactly like my father, you see, and that hurts my mother more than she'd ever admit. I struggle not to be like him. I get what you told me. I know you want me to be more vulnerable with you, to stop overcompensating. In a way, I didn't want us to end up like my parents either." A choked sob cuts off his words, and he wraps his arms around his chest.

He feels small. Maybe, he's still a child parading around as an adult after all.

"I hadn't meant to 'put you on a pedestal', Atsumu but I was—I'm so scared of losing you."

There, he'd said it.

"Kiyoomi." At Atsumu's serious tone, Kiyoomi finally opens his eyes and looks at his soulmate again. "'m not fragile."

Finally, Atsumu reaches out and holds him by his elbows. His ever-burning soulmate looks him in the eyes, shining bright in all of its golden glory. He says firmly, "I stand by what I said. I want to make ya a choice I keep choosing every day."

Kiyoomi swallows. The warmth of Atsumu's hands is grounding. "And I want you to be the choice I keep making every day."

Atsumu looks like he believes him, yet there is a crack of uncertainty in his gaze. When Kiyoomi doesn't push him away, he reaches for Kiyoomi's face and wipes at his tears. He says, "Ya think 'm scared of yer shitty fuck ups and yer big emotions? When I promised ya a lifetime, I meant it— Do ya?"

It's scary, more scary than when he had put his heart on the line to fix what he'd done wrong with his soulmate. They were easier to swallow, finding fault in his actions and trying to make it up to them. It's scary, finally letting his soulmate in and see him. The him beyond his snarky words and mean streaks. The him who is still the child who truly believed to be the downfall to his parents' love.

"Atsumu." Kiyoomi says. His boyfriend falls silent. "I get what you're saying. I really do. But, I.. don't know where to start."

"This issue of ours won't be resolved in one conversation." Atsumu says seriously. "For one, maybe don't run off anywhere without tellin' me. I don't need distance. I need reassurance."

Kiyoomi reaches out and holds his hand. Atsumu lets him. "I won't do it again. I'm not leaving you either."

"Then trust that I won't either." Atsumu squeezes his hand. "I want to be happy, and I want ya to be happy too."

"I am." Kiyoomi assures him. "I— We'll work through this, hm? I'll be more open with you. I'll do better."

"I know ya will." Atsumu says with certainty, as if that was never out of the question. "I know I wasn't easy to deal with. Yer walls are higher than mine but they're made of glass."

Atsumu sees him.

"I know." Kiyoomi barks out a laugh. "You're not easy too."

"I know." Atsumu rolls his eyes. His thumbs still caress the skin of Kiyoomi's cheeks. The tears keep rolling down unbidden, and where vulnerability used to feel like a gun to his head, the warmth he feels is like touching the sun.

"I'm sorry." Kiyoomi murmurs, unwinding his arms to grab Atsumu's hands. He presses a kiss on his palm. "I'm really sorry."

Forgiveness.. is a difficult concept for most. Even the most saint struggle with forgiving others.

"I forgive ya." Atsumu murmurs, the wrinkles on his face relaxing. "I'm sorry too."

Kiyoomi merely hums. He still feels the remnant of his self-loathing but he knows. Forgiving yourself is the hardest part of it all.

Atsumu leans in to press a gentle kiss on his lips. When he pulls away, Kiyoomi's tears glisten against his lips. Then, his soulmate opens his mouth and starts counting down from a hundred.

"100, 99, 98, 97, 96…" Kiyoomi pulls down their hands to enclose Atsumu in his embrace. He allows his soulmate to sing the numbers into his ears, gradually pulling him down from the clouds. Atsumu's shoulders are broad, his back is strong. The exhales of his mouth tickle down Kiyoomi's neck but they're warm just like his body. Miya Atsumu is on Earth, and that's where Kiyoomi wants to be.

"… 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5.."

A kiss grazes the back of his ear. It sends a thrill down his spine. "..3,2..1"

Kiyoomi reluctantly pulls away. "When did you notice my.. habit?" he asks.

Atsumu smiles and pecks him on the lips. "Like I said. Yer walls made of glass."

And Kiyoomi would gladly let his soulmate shatter them.

"We're glad you're fine now, Omi-san." Hinata laughs, playfully elbowing him on the side. They're out on a walk, a collective decision made after their two roommates finally returned from wherever they were while he and Atsumu were breaking down in the communal area. Now that Kiyoomi is calmer, he realizes he owes them both an apology. After all, their fights must have put them in a bad spot.

Before he can open his mouth to apologize, Bokuto jumps and wraps his arm around his shoulders, almost dropping them both to the ground. "It's cool!" He says, as if he read Kiyoomi's intention. "Everybody got their bad days."

Irritated, Kiyoomi pushes Bokuto off him and sneers, "Don't touch me."

Instead of being offended, Bokuto laughs without a care in the world. "And our Omi-omi is back!"

Disgruntled, Kiyoomi steps closer to Atsumu. His soulmate is smirking but he allows Kiyoomi to hook their arms together, a rare display of public affection. He lowers his voice and asks, "Was I that bad?"

"Yer on Santa's naughty list." Atsumu whispers back, though his tone is mirthful.

Kiyoomi pulls a face. "You're exaggerating."

"And yer a worry wart who worries too much." Atsumu snickers.

Kiyoomi makes to unhook their arms, but Atsumu firmly keeps him in place. He resigns himself to be walking basically strapped against Atsumu's side, not that he minds as much. Hinata shoots off to a street stall, Bokuto hot on his heels. When Kiyoomi's phone pings, he reluctantly pulls out his phone and sees that his cousin had messaged him.

Toya

I got the invite.

I'm sorry Kiyo.

Are you okay?

 

Instead of responding, Kiyoomi lazily holds up his phone and takes a picture of him and Atsumu who was caught off guard. When he sends the picture, his soulmate looks at his phone in dismay. The picture caught Atsumu at a bad angle, where he was mid-yawning. Kiyoomi finds himself smiling at the picture so Atsumu could only roll his eyes with minimal complaint.

Out with the guys.

Toya

Oh.

Uh, are you going?

To the wedding, I mean.

 

That puts Kiyoomi on hold. He stops walking, forcing his soulmate to stop too. Atsumu curiously looks at the phone and searches his face with a furrow between his eyebrows.

"Ya don't hafta, y'know?" Atsumu says carefully.

Atsumu is experienced. He considers it seriously, but he leaves the decision making for another day. Kiyoomi leaves Motoya on read and shuts off his phone. He gives his soulmate a reassuring smile. "I know."

The wedding is months away anyway.

"Are ya okay?" Atsumu asks, fidgeting as if he is out of his element. They both are. It's strange to think that months ago, Kiyoomi had been trying so hard to reach his soulmate. Now, he realizes Atsumu has been trying too.

"Yeah—" Kiyoomi pauses. Then, he looks at his soulmate and presses a gentle kiss on his temple. He ignores Atsumu's squawk and barrels over his flustered protests to ask, "Next break. Do you want to come see my mother with me?"

Atsumu gawks like a fish out of water. Kiyoomi wishes he has his camera out. Maybe, he'd have a new background for his phone. Still, he waits. A little anxiously, but he knows that Atsumu wouldn't run away. At least, not anymore.

"Jerk." Atsumu grumbles, looking away to hide his reddening cheeks. "Of course I will."

Kiyoomi snickers. They continue walking, catching up to their friends already elbow deep in their street food that would probably put them on their athletic trainer's hit list.

Kiyoomi used to believe he was the ashes to his parents' burning home, but the fire has long gone out and he was the only one left behind. He believed he was the product of their failed love. But, his soulmate has done the impossible. There are still embers in him, and Miya Atsumu had reignited it.

Seeing his mother with Atsumu is healing, in a way. The two flames of his life, talking as they move around the kitchen with matching aprons. Atsumu says something to his mother, and it makes her laugh so hard it's difficult to reconcile this woman standing in the kitchen with the woman Kiyoomi had believed to be fragile.

It's hard not for his embers to catch the licking flame.

It is not that he couldn't cook, but both his soulmate and his mother insisted that they could handle themselves. They're trying to bond and he would get in their way, his mother had said. Kiyoomi had reluctantly taken a seat at the kitchen table, content to watch them. It makes him feel a little nostalgic.

Hadn't he been the one to tell Atsumu that people cared for him once upon a time ago? Maybe he should've taken his own advice. Isn't the kitchen holding two of the people who cared about him the most? Well—

"Obasan!!" the third has finally arrived.

Motoya barrels into the kitchen, carrying grocery bags that could probably fill his mother's shelves for months. He pulls Kiyoomi's mother into a hug and smiles widely at Atsumu whose eyes are tearing from the onions. Kiyoomi chuckles softly and stands, going over to his soulmate to dab the edges of his soulmate's eyes with his sleeve.

"Little old onion won't hurt me." Atsumu argues, but allows it.

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes fondly. "Yeah, animal documentaries already do."

Atsumu shoots him a dirty look. "They don't hurt me, Omi. They touch me. There's a difference!"

Kiyoomi snickers. "Is that an appropriate thing to say, Atsumu?"

As if realizing what he'd said, Atsumu reels back and tries to shove his hands to Kiyoomi's face. Laughing, Kiyoomi holds his wrist to keep them away. The magic of onions is strong, and Kiyoomi is weak enough for it to affect his tear ducks. Still, he lets Atsumu try to bully him with his onion-stained hands, the task long abandoned.

"Jerk! Scrub! You little shit!" Atsumu projects into their connection, mindful of the impression he's supposed to maintain in front of Kiyoomi's mother.

Kiyoomi is still snickering as he finally tugs the hands down and presses close against Atsumu's side. Atsumu huffs, giving up and trying to go back to his task but he doesn't shove Kiyoomi away. It's only when they're both calm enough that they noticed the two spectacles watching them from the dining table.

"Oh, ignore us." Motoya says with a playful wave of his hand. "It's not as if there's nobody else in the room."

Kiyoomi pulls a face and rolls his eyes. Atsumu reluctantly pushes him away. When Kiyoomi looks at his mother, she has a soft smile on her face. There is no doubt in her face, only peace. It embarrasses Kiyoomi.

To save face, Kiyoomi abandons Atsumu's side with a pitiful excuse of getting his phone in the living room, despite that fact that his phone is on the dining table. None of them stop him. Well, Motoya decides to follow after him, leaving his mother and Atsumu by themselves.

"So.." Motoya drawls, kind enough not to point out about the phone as Kiyoomi pretends to search in the living room. "I assume things are going well?"

Kiyoomi pauses, and glances at his cousin. He thinks of sugarcoating it, but he's never one to hide secrets from Motoya. He hums and shrugs, "We're working on it."

"Right." Motoya says, plopping down on the sofa with no intention of letting Kiyoomi go. Seeing this, Kiyoomi reluctantly sits down too. "That's good to hear. It was dead silence from you for a while. Got me worried. Actually, Suna was antsy too. He said he'd never known Atsumu would keep his mouth shut this long before."

Kiyoomi winces. If Suna was in the dark about their fights, then it would be safe to assume that Atsumu hadn't told Osamu either. Or he did. But if he actually did, wouldn't Osamu come to their dorm to fulfill his promise of chopping Kiyoomi to pieces? He shudders.

Motoya notices and says, "Whatever's going on with you two should be between you two."

That's reassuring, at least.

"I was stupid, that's all." Kiyoomi says instead.

"When are you not?" Motoya snorts. Then, his smile softens. "You're happy. It's a good look on you."

"I'm always happy." Kiyoomi grumbles, flustered.

"Yeah. Trigger happy." His cousin retorts. "I'm just glad you gave this a shot."

Kiyoomi looks at his cousin and remembers all the bullshit he put his cousin through. He really appreciates him, even though he would never say it out loud. Motoya isn't wrong either. He's glad he hadn't given up on Atsumu.

Sensing the conversation to be over, Motoya rambles about his upcoming volleyball match against Sendai Frogs. Kiyoomi appreciates the change of topic and they even pull up the most recent match that the team had done. For a while, they just watch the television while exchanging observations. It feels almost like they were in high school, bent over Kiyoomi's laptop to watch the high school league.

Eventually, his mother calls for them to set the table.

They sit around the dining table with Kiyoomi right next to Atsumu. Eventually, inevitably, the idle conversation peters off to land on the topic they were avoiding; his father's upcoming wedding. Motoya had been the one to bring it up, not shying away from the sensitivity of the topic.

"Himari-san and her husband is going." Motoya says. "Aoi-san and his family too."

Kiyoomi expects to feel betrayed. Both of his siblings had chosen to go. But, when he glances at his mother's face, he finds no resentment. She seems.. fine. Kiyoomi wants to frown. Maybe his siblings aren't as resentful as he is, but they had both grown up with their father present.

His mother looks at Kiyoomi and says, "You don't have to go if you don't want to. I won't be disappointed if you go either. He is still your father after all."

She doesn't sound hopeful. Or disapproving. Just acceptance.

Kiyoomi presses his mouth into a thin line, contemplative. His mother seems to have more to say but she respects what ever decision her youngest son would make. He feels conflicted. His father had never made a proper attempt to connect with him, yet.. something tugs him to go anyway.

He shoves food into his mouth, far from his usual self, and grumbles, "I'll go."

He'd been sitting on it for too long. It's not as if he was trying to make a point, or feed into his own shadows. He's not a masochist (most of the time). But, hadn't his hesitance to make his decision stemmed from his own need for closure?

His mother nods. Kiyoomi ignores the surprised look he receives from Motoya. They switch to talking about their career led his cousin. He keeps observing his mother but finds that she has completely moved on from his decision. Throughout their dinner, he keeps noticing Atsumu glancing at him with an indecipherable look on his face.

"What's wrong?" Kiyoomi asks in their link.

Atsumu smiles. "Nothing. Actually, yer ma and I talked. Very enlightening talk."

Kiyoomi blinks, the shadows of his mind slowly seeping forward. Before he could burn himself out in fear, Atsumu gently nudges him out of his head.

"Nothing bad, I promise. It's just.. yer a good person, Omi-kun."

At that, Atsumu returns to his food. Kiyoomi doubts he could get anything out of his soulmate so he reluctantly starts eating again. Whatever, let the two of them have their little secret.

With Atsumu by his side looking over to his phone, Kiyoomi types out his response and finally hits send.

Otousan

I'll come.

I'm bringing someone too.

His father receives the message and responds with a "I'll see you then."

The wedding is short and simple. It's held in a modest banquet hall with long tables for the guests and an abundance of sake. Kiyoomi introduces his family to Atsumu, who looks dashing in his black suit and slicked back hair. A part of him is glad that Atsumu gets on well with his siblings and their children. They're seated at the front, near where the newly wedded couple is sitting and celebrating their union.

He'd spent the months in between volleyball practice and matches leading up to the wedding conflicted with his decision. Mostly with regret that Atsumu, surprisingly, doesn't try to abate. His soulmate lets him feel, making space for his big emotions, as he'd once placed it. He'd greeted and congratulated his father early after the ceremony. It was short and awkward, but he doubts anything he'd said would ruin his father's high.

Kiyoomi doesn't intend to stay long. He'd said as much. But his father seems appreciative that he'd shown up regardless.

His soulmate leans against his side, free with his affection. In their minds, the link comes to life.

"Ya good?" Atsumu asks.

Once, after he sent that message, Atsumu had asked him if he was sure about coming to the wedding. While he seemed to respect Kiyoomi's decision, he could tell Atsumu wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of Kiyoomi choosing to go. Back then, Kiyoomi told him sincerely that he didn't actually want to go, hadn't actually wanted to rebuild his relationship with his father, but the wedding was his closure— To see for himself that there is more to life than getting stuck in the past.

His mother was healing and his father had moved on.

It was finally his turn to do the same.

Kiyoomi takes Atsumu's hand and holds it close to his chest. He can feel his soulmate searching his face, mask-less to respect the ceremony yet every inch of him feels exposed. Perhaps going to the wedding was a mistake. Maybe Kiyoomi is purposefully making himself uncomfortable. Kiyoomi is definitely an idiot.

But, there is something freeing about witnessing the truth right in his face.

He would never attempt to rebuild his relationship with father after the wedding. He would never have to fear for his mother's heart. He can finally move on and let himself go.

"Yeah." He says, and for once, he isn't hiding the truth. "We should definitely get out of here in 5 minutes though. I think I'll puke if I have to refrain myself from pointing out how chapped that woman's lips are."

Atsumu barks out a laugh, earning looks from their surrounding. He doesn't care, so Kiyoomi doesn't either.

"That wedding attire is gaudy, don't cha think so?" Atsumu teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

Kiyoomi snorts, earning surprised looks from his siblings. They look at him like he's an alien. Eventually, the five minutes is up and they both excuse themselves without looking back. Though, his siblings manage to extract a promise for them both to show up at their family dinners at one point in the future.

Free from the stifling building, Kiyoomi sighs and takes off his blazer. Atsumu wordlessly takes it out of his hands and fold it over his arm. They head back to their car, walking past the numerous guests eager to pile themselves into the enclosed space. Still, they take their time, enjoying the wind that brushes against their hair and the trees that formed a guide to the parking lot.

"That wasn't awful." Atsumu starts. "Yer siblings are nice though."

Kiyoomi smirks. "They were absolute terrors when I was younger. You met the tamed version of them."

"I think no one could beat Samu in the terrorizin'-their-siblin' department." Atsumu retorts, reaching for Kiyoomi's hand.

Their palms are sweaty but Kiyoomi doesn't let go. "That's true. Well, I'd say my siblings were better parents than my dad was."

"Ya regret it?" Atsumu asks, jutting his chin to the direction of the venue.

"Oh I do." Kiyoomi snorts. "But, I did it— and you were with me."

They reach their car, but they don't go in. With every one in the venue, they're basically alone in the parking lot. Atsumu turns to him and grabs both of his hands. Kiyoomi looks into his eyes, gleaming under the sun. Beautiful as ever.

"That took courage, y'know. I'm proud of ya." He says, squeezing his hands.

"I told you I'm working on it. I intend to keep my promises." Kiyoomi says.

Atsumu smiles, sharp and smug, as if he'd never doubted him. "I guess I don't hafta worry about pleasin' my father-in-law, huh?"

Kiyoomi shouldn't be surprised by how confident Atsumu sounds about marrying him. But then again, hadn't they promised each other a lifetime?

"You don't have to please anyone." Kiyoomi says seriously. Then, lightheartedly adds, "Besides, if there is someone who should be pleasing their significant other's family, it would be me. I'm still on thin ice with Osamu, remember?"

"Ya don't hafta please Samu either." Atsumu firmly says. "Or me. We're in a relationship but we are our own person. Prioritize yerself first."

Right. That's what Atsumu had wanted him to do.

"I know." Kiyoomi promises. Still, that won't stop him from making his soulmate happy.

Atsumu leans in to press a short kiss on his lips. He pulls away and declares,"I think another thin' we can get get out of this weddin' is that we are absolutely not doin' it indoors. I want an outdoor wedding."

"We're not doing it at the beach." Kiyoomi responds swiftly. "I don't want Hinata or Bokuto to start goading a bunch of volleyball players into a round of beach volleyball."

"Hinata can behave. He can hold his liquor." Atsumu defends their short teammate. He doesn't even try defending Bokuto.

Kiyoomi laughs, his voice tilting sweetly. Warmth fills his chest, and— God, he's happy.

Atsumu pulls away so they can finally go inside their car; Kiyoomi takes the wheel and Atsumu sits in the passenger's seat. When Kiyoomi reaches for Atsumu's hand, his soulmate takes it.

"Tell me about your siblings." His soulmate demands. "I wanna hear what makes them worse than Samu."

Kiyoomi laughs. "I didn't say they were worse than Osamu."

Atsumu's eyes gleam as they pull out of their parking space. "Well, I'll be the judge of that."

And so, Kiyoomi obliges.