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When Atsumu had told Kiyoomi that he was planning to spend the next five days back in his own apartment, hosting Osamu for the week while he stayed over to prepare for a new branch opening in the area, Kiyoomi had started making plans.
He had started making a long list of things he wants to do and take care of before Atsumu comes back. Things that involved treating himself to a smoothie Atsumu won’t beg to take sips out of, and for once sleeping in the middle of his bed without having to wake up at least three times in the middle of the night to move an elbow away from his face or to pull Atsumu away from the edge.
“That scrub’s horrible with directions,” Atsumu had said. “If I just let him loose here, he’ll just get lost an’ die and ma will have my ass for it.”
Which Kiyoomi knows is Atsumu-speak for “I miss him”, although he knows hell would freeze over before Atsumu ever said so in so many words.
It’s just one of those fundamental truths about Atsumu, one that Kiyoomi had long figured out before they started dating.
Kiyoomi doesn’t consider himself in second place by any means, and doubts Atsumu even thinks about ranking them at all. He’s fairly happy about where he stands in Atsumu’s life, so it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. If Osamu’s going to be in Hyogo for a week, then Atsumu will be the one to entertain him for all seven of those days, even if Atsumu might want to tear Osamu’s head off by day two.
(“I’ll see ya next week,” Atsumu says, kissing him on the lips, nipping it as he pulls away. “Don’t miss me too much, kay?”
“I think I’ll survive,” Kiyoomi says dryly, tongue running over the parts of his lip that Atsumu had bit. He knows that even though Atsumu will stick to Osamu’s side all week, Kiyoomi’s phone won’t be lacking in messages and picture updates.
“Ya won’t even miss my cooking?”
“I’ll have the bed to myself without having you starfish all over it,” Kiyoomi says, although a part of him will be thinking of Atsumu’s elaborate dinners while he eats his meal-prepped boiled chicken and rice.
Atsumu huffs. “Well if yer gonna be like that, see if I have sex with ya after Samu leaves.”
“Poor me,” Kiyoomi says.
Atsumu throws his hands up in the air. “Fine! Ya won’t miss me, huh? That’s what yer tryna tell me? Message received! Yer so goddamn annoying. I don’t even know why I bother tryna be cute with ya.”
At that, Kiyoomi leans in and kisses Atsumu again. “You don’t have to try and be cute,” he says. Opening his eyes halfway, he can see Atsumu’s cheeks start to redden.
“Fuckin’ hate ya,” Atsumu mumbles against his lips, practically melting into the kiss.
“Sure,” Kiyoomi agrees. “Whatever you say.”)
Although looking back, Kiyoomi might have been too eager in creating plans to begin with. That, or the universe decided that it needed a laugh and Kiyoomi was the jester in question. He should have been more specific. He should have specified to the universe that when he said he was looking forward to his week without Atsumu, he meant any and all forms of him, not just the twenty-three-year-old one.
Because now, standing in his doorway, is Osamu with a child on his shoulders. A child who is apparently Atsumu.
Kiyoomi pinches the bridge of his nose. “Repeat what you just said to me again.”
Osamu looks at him, looking as tired as Kiyoomi feels, and shrugs. The baby on his shoulder goes with him, little fists clutching at Osamu’s hair. “I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“Am I being pranked? You knocked someone up three years ago and only found out about the baby now and you’re pranking me?” Last he heard, Osamu’s been dating his decidedly-not-female high school teammate for years.
The child-baby-thing waves sloppily at Kiyoomi, hitting Osamu’s scalp as he does.
Kiyoomi doesn’t even know where to begin.
Osamu sighs. “That would be easier, wouldn’t it?”
Kiyoomi frowns. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“I’d like ta think I’m a bit better at pranks. And using protection. Anyways, could ya let us in? I can explain what I know once I get this brat of a’ me. He’s heavy.”
Kiyoomi grimaces. He doesn’t think he’s been around a child that small since he’s been one, but he doesn’t need experience to know that children, in general, are… messy.
Osamu notices his expression. “Don’t be like that. Yer gonna leave baby Tsumu out here to freeze? Quick, Tsumu. Make a sad face at him so he feels bad.”
On cue, the baby on Osamu’s shoulders curls his bottom lip outwards and widens his eyes, staring at Kiyoomi without blinking. Now that Kiyoomi takes a second to really, properly look at him. It really does look like someone had taken Atsumu and shrunk him down to a fourth of his size. Kiyoomi’s also had the liberty of seeing Atsumu’s most embarrassing baby photos, courtesy of Osamu himself. The similarities are a little too uncanny.
“You do understand it’s summer, right?” Kiyoomi says. “Also, did you teach him how to do that?”
Osamu rolls his eyes. “Just let us in, would ya?”
Kiyoomi sighs. He lets them in.
-
“I don’t even know what question to ask first.”
“Trust me,” Osamu says, weary. Atsumu sits on his lap, looking around Kiyoomi’s living room curiously with a tight grip on Osamu’s fingers. “Whatever questions ya have, I’ve already asked ‘em ten times over.”
“So you don’t know how this happened, why this happened, or when he’ll turn back into an adult?”
“Got it in one,” Osamu confirms. “One day we’re goin’ ta sleep just fine, the next mornin’ I wake up to baby Tsumu cryin’ ‘cause he doesn’t know where he is or why his twin looks so old.”
“He recognized you as his twin?”
“Well, he thought I was our pa at first,” Osamu says. “He believed I was myself after I told him, though.”
“And so now he’s a baby, and you need a babysitter,” Kiyoomi concludes.
“Technically he’s three,” Osamu points out. He bounces Atsumu on his lap. “Go on, Tsumu. Tell Sakusa-san how old ya are.”
Atsumu giggles at the jostling, kicking his feet out. “Atsumu is three,” he says, voice all high-pitched and baby-like and completely different from the voice of Atsumu as a grown man. Kiyoomi still doesn’t quite believe that this is supposed to be his boyfriend. “Osamu is three,” Atsumu continues, dropping his head back into Osamu’s chest.
“Yer a brat,” Osamu says with a laugh, patting Atsumu’s stomach. “Osamu is twenty- three.”
Atsumu’s face turns into a frown so quickly that Kiyoomi gets whiplash. “No! Twins are the same,” he stresses.
“Right, right,” Osamu says easily. “How did I forget?”
Atsumu relaxes. “I’m Tsumu.”
Osamu hums in agreement. “That’s right. And remember what I said on the way here? You call me Samu now.”
“Samu.”
“Now ya got it.”
“Saaamu.”
“Don’t wear it out.”
Atsumu bursts into laughter, even though Kiyoomi is fairly confident that nothing funny happened.
“You seem good enough with him,” Kiyoomi says.
“I’m outta touch,” Osamu says.
“I still don’t understand why you can’t watch him anyways.”
“Aren’t ya guys in yer off-season?” Osamu asks. “I’m gonna be booked with the restaurant opening here for the next few days. And I’m not tryna leave a baby Tsumu around kitchen utensils and sharp objects while I’m booked until late at night. I was only stayin’ over at his place so I wouldn’t have ta pay for a hotel. Keepin’ him with ya is safer in comparison.”
“My apartment isn’t baby-proofed,” Kiyoomi objects.
“I’d owe ya,” Osamu says, and to his credit, he does look regretful. “I’m only here for another few days before I head back, and I’d rather make sure he’s in safe hands now than try and figure out somethin’ later if he doesn’t end up turnin’ back.”
“Do you think that him not turning back is a possibility?”
Osamu shakes his head. “I’m tryin’ not to think about it.” He turns to face the child. “Yer gonna grow up in a few days, aren’t ya, Tsumu?”
“Yes,” Atsumu says, smiling when the attention is back on him. He’s made a game with Osamu’s hand now, making small laser gun noises as he points Osamu’s fingers in every direction. Osamu’s hands are limp, letting Atsumu do what they want with them.
“Considering the world hasn’t fallen apart yet, I’d like to think this is just some sort of blip in the universe that’ll take care of itself after a while,” Osamu tells Kiyoomi.
Kiyoomi frowns. “And if he doesn’t turn back by the end of the week?”
“If he doesn’t, then I swear to ya I’ll take him back with me until he does.”
Kiyoomi sighs. He prays he won’t regret this. “Alright.”
“Really?”
Kiyoomi sighs. “Yeah. I’ll do it. But won’t he cry if you’re gone?”
Osamu shakes his head. “I already explained to him that I needed to find someone to watch him while I was away. He was always better with strangers than I was.”
“So he thinks I’m a stranger.” Kiyoomi isn’t quite sure how to feel about that yet.
“He knows yer name, but not much else. I was testin’ him on the way over. Ain’t that right, Tsumu?”
Atsumu nods, but Kiyoomi’s not sure if he’s actually heard the question or just nodding instinctively.
“There’s really not any other options?” Kiyoomi tries one last time.
“I woulda thought ya would be jumpin’ at the chance to see Tsumu as a scrub,” Osamu comments. “I won’t make ya if ya really don’t want ta, but the only other option I can think of is takin’ him back to ma and postponing the restaurant open for a little bit. And if I’m doin’ that I might as well take care a’ him myself.”
Kiyoomi sighs. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says. And it’s true. It’s not that Kiyoomi minds that much. If this is Atsumu, then germs-aside, Kiyoomi really does have no problem with it, regardless of his previous plans. But it was one thing to pat the heads of his older siblings’ kids when they greeted him before they ran off to do whatever it was toddlers did in their neverending free time, but it was another thing to practically act as a stand-in parent for a child that depended on you for more than the occasional ice cream. “But it’s fine. I already said I’ll do it. I didn’t have anything else going on,” he lies.
“Really?”
Kiyoomi nods. “Really.”
Osamu scratches the back of his head. “Listen, I can’t thank ya enough. I didn’t know what I’d do if I had ta take him with me every day.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
Osamu shakes his head. “Yeah, I get that, but seriously. I know I can’t watch him, but if you need anything, just call me.”
Kiyoomi nods. “Some advice wouldn’t hurt.”
Osamu makes a thoughtful expression. “Advice, huh? He’s a pretty easy kid, but... just be a little gentle with Tsumu when he’s like this.”
Kiyoomi frowns. “I’m not going to yell at a baby.”
“Three-year-old.”
“You need to let that go.”
Osamu sighs. “Yeah, yeah. But anyways, I don't just mean yelling at him. Tsumu was a sensitive kid growing up, ya know? He didn’t care about too many people other than me and our parents, but he got hurt easily. It was a whole thing. Got upset easily, quick to cry, loved attention, meltdowns like ya wouldn't believe.”
“He’s still like that,” Kiyoomi points out. Just yesterday, Atsumu was on the verge of frustrated tears because he couldn’t undo the triple knot on his shoelaces. And while he rarely ever cries about the things that actually matter, the rest of what Osamu’s describing isn’t all that different than what Kiyoomi comes to expect when it comes to Atsumu.
“Ya don’t have to tell me. I shared a bedroom with the idiot for eighteen years. Just treat him gently. It’s one thing for someone to make him cry when we were all four years old and I could just kick whoever it was in the shin and be done with it, but it’s another thing for a grown-ass man to cause a baby ta suffer. Don’t go talking ta him all rough.”
“I thought he was three,” Kiyoomi says.
Osamu rolls his eyes. “I can see why he likes ya so much.”
Kiyoomi’s saved from having to respond to that when Atsumu, whose attention had started to falter from the game he’d made up with Osamu’s hands, now focuses on Kiyoomi. When Kiyoomi meets his eyes, Atsumu waves at him again. This time, Kiyoomi waves back, making Atsumu lift Osamu’s hand to cover his face.
Cute.
“Tsumu’s already promised ta be on his best behavior,” Osamu continues, completely ignoring that his hands no longer belong to him.
“I’m sure he has,” Kiyoomi says.
“Mhm,” Osamu says, “Oh right. Before I forget.”
He picks Atsumu up off his lap and deposits him on Kiyoomi’s without any further comment. It’s strange to have the weight of a child on his lap, but surprisingly, it’s not as disconcerting as Kiyoomi would have thought. Maybe because it’s Atsumu.
Osamu pulls a bookbag off his shoulder that Kiyoomi hadn’t even noticed him wearing, and starts unpacking baby supplies.
“Where did you even get all this?’ Kiyoomi asks incredulously.
“Emergency stop before I came here,” Osamu says simply, taking out another tiny set of pants and plastic cutlery. “Figured if I was gonna drop a baby on ya, this was the least I could do. Obviously.”
“Right,” Kiyoomi says. “Obviously.”
-
“Alright,” Osamu says by the doorway with a clap of his hands. “I’ll come see ya on Friday, alright Tsumu?”
Atsumu pouts at him, now being held against Kiyoomi’s hip, which is just as weird of a sensation as having him on his lap. “Yer leavin’?”
Osamu hums. “Already told ya that, scrub. You’ll stay with Sakusa-san, play some games with him, and then by the time I’m here to get ya, yer not even gonna wanna leave.”
“Okay,” Atsumu says, voice quiet.
And then Osamu is gone.
First things first, Kiyoomi thinks, now alone with a baby in his arms. Introductions.
“Do you know who I am?”
Atsumu hums. “Saku-san?”
“Sakusa-san,” Kiyoomi corrects. “That’s what your brother calls me. Do you remember what you call me?”
“Omi,” Atsumu says, which confirms what Osamu had told him earlier.
“That’s right,” Kiyoomi says.
Atsumu nods. “I like Omi.”
“You don’t even know me,” Kiyoomi points out.
“That’s okay,” Atsumu says. “Do you want to play?”
Kiyoomi has approximately zero things that are suitable for a baby— toddler. He eyes the pile Osamu had left behind. He’s sure there has to be some game or two in it. “Okay,” he says anyway.
-
Kiyoomi expects there to be hiccups. He had just hoped they wouldn't be right from the start.
-
Osamu texts him tips on his way to the restaurant apparently, because when Kiyoomi picks up his phone, several messages are waiting for him.
Miya Osamu: hey so sry if u already kno how to take care of a baby
Miya Osamu: but did more research omw to the restuarant + ik how tsumu works
Miya Osamu: i forgot to mention he alr ate lunch so there’s that. just make sure he naps around noon for like an hour .. eats fruits and all that
Miya Osamu: he doesnt have any allergies but he doesnt like carrots. might cry if u force him to eat it so don't
Me: Ok
Osamu answers near-immediately.
Miya Osamu: whats he doing now
Atsumu has been busying himself forcing Kiyoomi to play a game of The Floor is Lava, so Kiyoomi responds from his spot on top of his dresser while Atsumu giggles away on his sofa. They’re almost an hour into the game, and Kiyoomi doesn’t know how there can be so much enjoyment in standing on tables and sofa cushions. He’ll have to deep-clean everything once Atsumu’s old again.
Me: Playing. Don't worry about it
He glances at the time. It’s almost noon.
“Atsumu,” he says.
Atsumu glances up at him. His face is so round. And soft. Completely filled with baby fat. Like... Kiyoomi can’t think of an analogy. But it’s cute.
“It’s time for a nap.”
“Don’t wanna,” Atsumu says, focusing again on... if he can make the daring leap from one sofa cushion to the next, from what it looks like.
Kiyoomi waits until he makes his landing before speaking up again. He knows nothing about putting a child to bed, “Atsumu, come on. We can play after.”
“No,” Atsumu says, more forcefully this time.
“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says.
“I want to play more.”
“You have to nap so you have the energy to play.”
Osamu was right; a child-Atsumu really was quick to tears. “But I don’t wanna,” Atsumu says, voice wobbly.
Gentle, Kiyoomi thinks. “But you have to or we can’t play.”
They go another few rounds like this, until—
“ Atsumu. It’s nap time,” Kiyoomi says, slightly louder than he means to. Fuck. He feels guilty immediately.
“ No,” Atsumu yells, crying properly now. He flops down onto the sofa cushions, giving Kiyoomi a mini heart attack when it looks as if he’s about to roll off. “No, no, no! I don’t want to nap! I, I don’t want to!”
Kiyoomi runs a hand through his hair. “Okay. Okay, Atsumu, take a breath.”
“ No! You’re mean!”
“Atsumu, I’m sorry. But you have to nap,” Kiyoomi says. He almost wants to say never mind to the whole thing, and deal with the problem later. But... Kiyoomi doesn’t know the consequences of messing up a child’s sleep schedule, even if he hopes he won’t be dealing with a child for much longer, and he doesn’t want to find out.
Kiyoomi would be surprised if Atsumu could hear him over his crying. He’ll have to send a fruit basket to the neighbors.
“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi tries again, getting down from his dresser, and walking over to where Atsumu is.
Atsumu buries his head into the cushions.
“You can’t breathe like that,” Kiyoomi says. Kiyoomi reaches down to lift Atsumu by the armpits.
“ I can,” Atsumu insists, struggling a little, but Kiyoomi’s able to at least manhandle him into a sitting position.
“Okay, Atsumu. But I’m sure you can breathe just as well sitting from here.” Kiyoomi blanks at what to say next. Kids like snacks, right? “I’ll go get you some grapes.” He has those. Atsumu bought them to snack on for when he stays over.
Atsumu’s cries soften. “Grapes?”
“Grapes.”
“I want them,” Atsumu says.
Kiyoomi just barely is able to hold back his sigh of relief. “Okay then.”
Kiyoomi watches Atsumu wipe his tears away with a pudgy cheek before heading to the kitchen.
If this was the normal version of Atsumu, Kiyoomi would go into his room to calm down, letting Atsumu stew outside or go on a walk, and then the two of them would make sure to talk about it before they went to bed, whether or not that only led to more arguments. But Kiyoomi can’t exactly leave a toddler on his own in the apartment for that long.
And, probably even more so, he can’t imagine a grown-up version of Atsumu getting into it with Kiyoomi over naptime.
Atsumu’s still sitting quietly when Kiyoomi comes back with grapes on a plastic plate shaped like a bear. When he sees Atsumu, the guilt at snapping at him increases tenfold. There are dried tear tracks on his face, and he looks exhausted.
Kiyoomi sighs, running a hand through his hair. Looking back, he might have been too harsh. Even he gets overtired sometimes. He can only imagine how exhausted Atsumu is feeling.
“Do you feel a little better?”
Atsumu nods.
Kiyoomi wonders briefly, where to go from here, but figures that with Atsumu, physical touch couldn’t go wrong. He squats down, opening his arms to either side. “Then come here, please.”
Atsumu sniffs. “I don’t wanna,” he says, voice as little as the rest of him. “Yer mad.”
“I’m not mad,” Kiyoomi says. Atsumu’s face twists in disbelief.
“Ya look mad.”
“If I was mad, would I want to give you a hug?”
Atsumu’s bottom lip starts to quiver. “A hug?”
“Do you want one?”
Atsumu nods, the movement making the wetness pooled at the bottom of his eyes spill down his cheeks.
“Then come here and we can talk about why you’re sad, okay?”
Atsumu takes tiny steps forward until he’s finally standing between Kiyoomi’s legs. “I’m here,” he says, voice tiny.
Kiyoomi uses one hand to bring Atsumu close to him, and uses the other to cup his cheek and wipe away the tears.
“When you want something, you have to say please, okay? If you cry and get mad, then it’s hard for me to understand what you’re trying to ask.”
“Sorry,” Atsumu says, putting his hands on Kiyoomi’s shoulders. “I don’t want to nap, please.”
“I forgive you,” Kiyoomi says. “And thank you for telling me nicely. I’ll try to be better too. I’m sorry for raising my voice.”
“‘S okay,” Atsumu says.
Kiyoomi hums, not willing to go into the difference between saying it’s okay and properly apologizing with a toddler at the moment. He’s not sure Atsumu will understand him, anyways. “Then, how about a compromise?”
“Comp-ise,” Atsumu tries.
“Compromise,” Kiyoomi repeats. “It’s when we both get a little bit of what we want.”
Atsumu messes with the fabric of Kiyoomi’s shirt. “Okay.”
“Okay. How about, you eat some grapes, and then you go lie down.”
Atsumu whines.
“Not done yet. You go lie down, but because you’re big, you don’t have to go to sleep.”
“I don’t have to?”
Kiyoomi shakes his head.
“Do I have to close my eyes?”
“Not if you don’t want to,” Kiyoomi says.
Atsumu’s face scrunches up, like he’s thinking of anything Kiyoomi might be leaving out, but in the end, he nods. “Okay.” He sticks a hand out. “Promise.”
Kiyoomi nods and shakes it. It’s a little sticky somehow, but he has wet wipes in his pocket that have prepared him for this. “Promise,” he says. “Eat a grape.”
“Can I call Samu first?” Atsumu asks, putting a grape in his mouth. Then, mid-chew, he quickly adds, “Please?”
“Swallow first, or the food will get stuck,” Kiyoomi says. “And you can, but not for too long. He might not pick up if he’s busy.”
Atsumu nods.
“And then you have to promise you’ll lie down after the call is done. Remember that you don’t have to nap, but you have to lie down.”
“Promise,” Atsumu says, pulling his shirt up to wipe his nose on it.
Kiyoomi grimaces. He pulls out a wipe out of his pocket to wipe down Atsumu’s hands.
Atsumu scrunches his face. “That tickles!”
“That means it’s working,” Kiyoomi says, putting the wipe down. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials Osamu.
“Ya already got problems?” Osamu asks incredulously.
“Hello to you, too,” Kiyoomi says. “Atsumu wanted to talk to you.”
Kiyoomi hands the phone to him. The phone is comically big in Atsumu’s hands.
“Hello?” Atsumu says, using both hands to press the phone against his cheek.
Kiyoomi can’t hear Osamu’s part of the conversation from where he is, just the tiny echo of his voice on the other end, but Kiyoomi can follow the conversation easily enough from just Atsumu’s side of the conversation:
“This isn’t Omi, it’s Tsumu.”
“I’m in the living room. Omi said I can talk to ya before nap time.”
“We played, and, and then, now it’s nap time, but I wanted ta play more, and then Omi yelled at me, and I cried a little, and now I’m eating grapes,” Atsumu says innocently.
Kiyoomi pales. He didn’t yell at Atsumu. His voice was barely even stern. He doesn’t even want to know where Osamu’s thought process is headed after Atsumu’s descriptions. Not even two hours into his indefinite and unpaid babysitting gig, and Atsumu’s already been in tears.
Atsumu, none-the-wiser, continues. “But Omi said he’s not mad, and Omi also said I can talk to ya for a little bit, and then I gotta go lie down but I don’t have to nap. I can just lie down and not sleep because I’m big.”
Atsumu whines at whatever Osamu says on the other end. “But I wanna keep talkin’ ta ya. Talk ta Omi later.” Atsumu pouts, but takes Kiyoomi’s phone and turns around to face him. “Omi, Samu wants to tell ya something.”
Kiyoomi clears his throat, nodding despite the dread pooling in his stomach. He bends down to pick Atsumu up, walking him to the bedroom and placing him down in the middle of the bed. “Rest here,” he says, taking the phone from Atsumu’s hand.
“Yer stayin’ here?” Atsumu asks hopefully.
Kiyoomi nods. He thinks it might be worse for him if Osamu hears Kiyoomi leaving him. “Alright,” he says, sitting down at his desk chair next to the bed
He double-checks that the phone wasn’t accidentally put on speakerphone in all the movement, and when he confirms that it wasn’t, puts it up to his ear. “Miya-san,” Kiyoomi says.
-
Atsumu’s asleep by the time Osamu finally lets Kiyoomi hang up. Osamu’s chastising still echoes in Kiyoomi’s ears, but he can’t blame him for it too much.
It was probably just as stressful for Osamu, trying to deal with a restaurant opening and trusting another person with the baby-fied version of your brother at the same time. That, and Kiyoomi still has a healthy level of fear where Osamu is concerned, especially when it comes to things related to Atsumu. Not that he’ll ever tell Atsumu that.
Kiyoomi takes the extra pillow on the bed and puts it against the side of Atsumu that’s furthest away from the wall. Grown-up Atsumu could never stay still in sleep, and if the same holds true for this smaller version, Kiyoomi doesn’t want to risk him falling off the bed completely. The drop is too high for someone who’s barely taller than the height of the bed itself.
Like a reflex, Atsumu turns towards the pillow once it touches his side, wrapping his arms and legs around it like an octopus. His body is smaller than the pillow, Kiyoomi notes, heart doing something funny at the sight. The things I do for you, he thinks, and sits down on the edge of the bed to watch Atsumu sleep.
-
-
Things get more peaceful from there. With Atsumu asleep, Kiyoomi’s able to cook a proper lunch for himself, and Atsumu himself is remarkably happier after a nap.
Kiyoomi’s dead on his feet by dinner, but luckily, that’s where the height of Atsumu’s energy starts to wane.
Atsumu was already half-leaned over his dinner plate, eyes drooping heavily, so from there it was just a matter of putting him in. Kiyoomi puts Atsumu down carefully in the center of his bed and surrounds him with the extra pillows, keeping just enough space for him to also lie down.
He makes sure to leave as much space as he can between them. There’s a horrifying thought that he might crush Atsumu in his sleep, and he’s not willing to risk it.
Halfway into the night, Kiyoomi blinks awake when he feels a sudden extra weight on him. When he looks down to see, Atsumu is half-curled up on top of him, like he had been trying to properly cuddle him, but fell asleep halfway into the effort. Kiyoomi adjusts him into a more comfortable position, and falls back asleep.
-
Day two is more of the same. Right before his nap, Atsumu wants Kiyoomi to try calling Osamu again, but this time, the call rings before going to voicemail.
“He must be busy,” Kiyoomi says. “He’ll call back once he sees there’s a missed call.”
Atsumu had refused to meet Kiyoomi’s eyes after the news but nodded in understanding.
There’s only one other hiccup all day, and it only shows itself during bathtime. Which is an ordeal, but not in the way Kiyoomi had originally thought it would be.
When Kiyoomi had asked, Atsumu had happily taken off his dirty clothes and raised his hands to be lifted into the warm water. It was just—
“Atsumu, please stop splashing,” Kiyoomi says. His shirt is already drenched, and he’s already making a list of all the cleaning he’ll have to do once Atsumu is finally asleep. Cleaning the bathroom is steadily rising on that list, although as of right now, it’s still firmly below sanitizing anything Atsumu could get his mouth on, and locking away anything Atsumu could get his mouth on and swallow.
“I’m playin’,” Atsumu defends, dropping his tiny palms onto the water’s surface again.
“The more you move, the more you risk shampoo getting into your eyes,” Kiyoomi warns, unsuccessfully trying to wipe the dripping suds away from Atsumu’s eyes. “It’ll burn if it gets in there.”
Atsumu pauses. Kiyoomi takes his chance to wipe off the shampoo bubbles from the immediate danger zone. “My eyes’ll burn off?”
“Only if you move while there’s still shampoo in your hair,” Kiyoomi says seriously. He’s using his own shampoo, and he’s pretty sure it doesn’t have the tear-free promise that comes with baby shampoo. When are you even supposed to stop using baby shampoo? Kiyoomi has no idea.
“Can I play after?”
Kiyoomi sighs. His mental chores list changes from ‘Clean bathroom’ to ‘CLEAN BATHROOM: HIGH PRIORITY’.
-
Trying to shower afterwards is an even bigger ordeal.
“Atsumu, I’m showering. I’m not going anywhere. Ten minutes and I’ll be right back out here with you.”
Atsumu whimpers again. His tiny fists don’t let go of Kiyoomi’s pant legs. “No.”
Kiyoomi had almost forgotten that ten minutes meant nothing to a baby that has no concept of time. “It’s just like when I gave you a bath. Now it’s my turn to be clean.”
Atsumu looks up at him hopefully. “I’ll help give ya a bath too?”
Kiyoomi shakes his head. “I don’t need help. You can sit out here and watch something on my phone.” What do kids watch nowadays? He has no idea. He supposes he could just pull up those videos of shapes floating across the screen and hope it’s enough to distract a toddler. He’s pretty sure YouTube has parental controls.
It’s all a moot point though, because Atsumu shakes his head. He blinks rapidly, eyes wettening with each one. “I wanna stay with Omi. Please?”
“Atsumu.”
“I said please,” Atsumu argues. “Ya said ta say please and I did. So, so now ya have ta let me!”
Kiyoomi’s not strong enough to continue this argument for another ten minutes.
He reaches down and scoops Atsumu up, a move that’s slowly becoming more and more familiar, and walks him into the bathroom. Atsumu makes a soft sound when Kiyoomi sets him down on the toilet seat. “You can stay here and play with my phone. But if you want to leave, I’ll leave the door open, okay? Make sure to leave if you feel too hot and go sit in the living room to wait for me.”
“Do ya have games on your phone?” Atsumu asks, leaning into Kiyoomi’s thigh. His hair is still a little damp, even after Kiyoomi had patted it with a towel, so Kiyoomi can see where it makes a dark spot appear on Kiyoomi’s pant legs.
“I’ll put a game on it for you,” Kiyoomi says, already opening up to the App Store. Kiyoomi doesn't even know what kids play anymore. He puts “kids game” into the search bar and hopes for the best.
“Okay, Atsumu says.
-
Miya Osamu: just saw ur missed call mb. probably can’t call tsumu tn - holed up in restaurant till late
Miya Osamu: he still doin ok
Me: Yeah hes fine. Ill let him know
Miya Osamu: great thanks. hopefully will have sm more time tmrw but if not could u explain it to him
Me: Ill explain it to him
-
Atsumu is clingy the next morning. Even more than the day before. He tears up whenever Kiyoomi so much as puts him down, which had led him to carry Atsumu all through making breakfast, and then through eating breakfast, and now sitting on the couch, Atsumu on his lap with hands thrown over his neck and head in Kiyoomi’s shoulder.
Kiyoomi had thought volleyball might have prepared him for this. But apparently not even being a professional athlete gives him the strength to hold a child for hours on end.
“What’s wrong?” Kiyoomi asks, although he already has a fairly strong idea that it’s related to Osamu. Atsumu hadn’t thrown an immediate tantrum at the news that Osamu wasn’t available, although Kiyoomi hadn’t missed the way Atsumu had tried to bury himself in Kiyoomi’s chest last night, completely silent when he would have otherwise tried to chat up a storm.
Kiyoomi doesn’t know how to fix it. He could go out and buy some toys for Atsumu or see if anyone has something he can borrow for a few days to entertain Atsumu, or at least distract him from the fact that he hasn’t talked to Osamu in over twenty-four hours.
He wonders who might even be around. He doesn’t know if anyone else in MSBY would own anything remotely close to something that can entertain a child. Although, he wouldn’t put it past Bokuto to own something like that for himself.
Oh. Wait. There’s an idea.
“Do you want to go to the park?” Kiyoomi asks. “I can see if your friends are free to come play with us.”
“Samu?” Atsumu asks, perking up a little bit.
“Not Miya-san,” Kiyoomi says gently. “But other friends. Friends of both of us. You just might not remember them now. Have you ever played volleyball before?”
Atsumu leans his head back. He’s not crying from the looks of it, but the sadness in his expression is hard to miss. “What’s that?”
“Let’s get ready to go to the park, and I’ll show you.”
-
Luckily, Hinata and Bokuto are both free and had taken the concept of a baby Atsumu with just as much grace as Kiyoomi could have hoped for.
“Oh my god,” Hinata says when he finally spots Kiyoomi and Atsumu in the park, nearly running over. He holds a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god.”
Kiyoomi adjusts Atsumu on his hip. “Are you actually crying over this?”
“Oh my god,” Hinata repeats again. “He’s so tiny.”
“I’m Tsumu,” Atsumu says, voice slightly muffled from the face mask he insisted on wearing after seeing Kiyoomi don his own. It’s too big to properly fit on him, so Atsumu had to loop the elastic several times before putting it on Atsumu’s face.
“Atsumu-san. You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Hinata says seriously.
“I’m cute,” Atsumu agrees, leaning his head on Kiyoomi’s shoulder.
“That’s right,” Hinata says. “Omi-san said that you wanted to learn to play volleyball.”
Atsumu nods. “Omi bought one.”
“Oh yeah? What else did he bring?” Hinata asks, seamlessly taking Atsumu from Kiyoomi’s arms and propping him up against his own hip without Atsumu giving off so much as a protest.
Right. Kiyoomi had almost forgotten that Hinata had grown up with a kid sister.
“He brought sandwiches and water,” Atsumu says.
“You forgot something,” Hinata says, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
“No I didn’t,” Atsumu says, brows furrowing.
“Yes you did. You forgot to mention you,” Hinata says. He swings him around in his arms, making Atsumu shriek with laughter.
-
By the time Bokuto arrives, Kiyoomi’s exhausted. A constant state these days, it seems. They hadn’t even been playing volleyball, since Atsumu’s hands were still too small to do anything fundamental with a sports ball built for grown men. Instead, the three of them had just stood in a triangle formation, alternating between small throws and rolls when it came to passing the ball to Atsumu. Atsumu threw the ball each time, huffs of breath as he tried to hold the ball above his head and heave it in a direction that maybe, if Kiyoomi squinted, could be in Hinata or Kiyoomi’s direction.
Thankfully it’s not long before Bokuto shows up with a loud exclamation, making Hinata shout, and Atsumu joins in on the yelling if only to feel included.
Bokuto ends up taking Kiyoomi’s space in the strange game they’ve made up, while Kiyoomi goes back to the bench to rest his legs.
He loses track of the minutes by the time Bokuto sits next to him. “I feel like I haven’t talked to an adult in days,” he tells him.
Bokuto laughs, taking a sip from his water bottle. “Aw, Omi. Shouyou is right there.”
“I feel like I haven’t talked to an adult in days,” Kiyoomi repeats.
“What about Tsum-Tsum’s brother?”
“Getting chewed out by him for making Atsumu cry doesn’t count.”
“You look like you’ve gotten good with him now,” Bokuto points out. “Maybe he was just getting restless being in the house for so long.”
“You might be right,” Kiyoomi says, eyes still on Atsumu laughing as he catches the volleyball that Hinata rolls to him.
“You said Tsum-Tsum’s brother hasn’t come to visit yet, right?”
Kiyoomi shakes his head.
“He probably misses him, huh?”
“I think so,” Kiyoomi says. He gestures to where Atsumu and Hinata are playing. “I can take over playing again if you want.”
“Sure,” Bokuto says, eyeing him knowingly. “If you want.”
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes but gets up anyway. “Atsumu,” he calls.
Atsumu faces him from where he is, but doesn’t toddle over to him. “I’m playing, Omi.”
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. He pulls out his phone from his back pocket. “Do you want to smile for Miya-san?”
“Samu will see?” Atsumu asks, giving Kiyoomi a toothy grin. “I can talk ta him?”
“He’ll see you, but he’s a bit busy, so we can’t call him now.” Kiyoomi says, snapping a photo of Atsumu holding up the volleyball at him.
The picture ends up as his wallpaper before he sends it to Osamu, but that’s neither here nor there.
-
Me: [image attached]
Miya Osamu : omfg
Miya Osamu : ykw
Miya Osamu : a little grossed out at how cute he used to be
Miya Osamu: what happened to him
-
While a temporary solution to Atsumu’s mood, Atsumu quiets almost as soon as Bokuto and Hinata say their final goodbyes.
He eats his dinner without commentary, and doesn’t bother trying to splash the water when Kiyoomi gives him another bath. He stays silent even as he curls up into the pillow, staring listlessly at the wall until eventually, he falls asleep.
Kiyoomi takes the free time for what it is and cleans the apartment as quietly as he can. Then, when he heads to bed, he passes the time until he falls asleep by running his hands through Atsumu’s baby-soft hair.
-
Spending three days with a toddler, and almost half of that with a sad one, must have been affecting Kiyoomi more than he thought, because he wakes up on day four with a splitting headache. The entire day is off from that moment forward, and even though he tries not to show it to Atsumu, who still hasn’t bounced back from yesterday, he's not sure how successful he is.
Actually, when Kiyoomi puts some thought into it, when he finally has some time to put some thought into it, he’s sure he’s failed at hiding it from Atsumu completely.
Because this time, instead of being clingy, Atsumu’s new approach is complete apathy to everything.
Exhibit Z:
Kiyoomi pinches the bridge of his nose. “So you don’t want to eat your lunch?”
Atsumu sits on the couch, looking down at his hands. “No.” The untouched sandwich Kiyoomi had made for him sits on the living room table. Kiyoomi would have otherwise drawn the line at eating in a room other than the kitchen, but between his headache and Atsumu’s sudden hunger strike, he’d gotten desperate.
“You didn’t even touch your breakfast. And I heard your stomach rumbling. You’re lying to me if you tell me you’re not hungry.”
“‘M not,” Atsumu says stubbornly, still not looking up.
“And you don’t want to play a game either?”
“No.”
“Not even on my phone?”
“No.”
“Or watch a volleyball match?” Kiyoomi tries, one last attempt to get Atsumu interested in anything.
“ No.”
“Is that all you know how to say now?”
“No,” Atsumu says, then furrows his eyebrow as he processes the question he’s just answered. “No,” he repeats.
Kiyoomi sighs. “You’re sure proving me wrong,” he mumbles. Then, loud enough for Atsumu to hear, “Then what do you want to do?”
Atsumu shrugs.
“Then we can both just sit here quietly,” Kiyoomi says. “Because that’s all the ideas I have unless you can think of something else.”
At that, Atsumu looks up. Kiyoomi’s never been analyzed by a toddler before, but he supposes there’s a first for everything. Atsumu shrugs, and Kiyoomi bites back another sigh in favor of sitting down next to him.
He closes his eyes, leaning his head back on the sofa, and drops an arm over them to block out the sunlight.
The relief is minimal.
-
Kiyoomi snaps awake, immediately feeling the twinge in the back of his neck. When did he fall asleep?
He scrambles for his phone, glancing at the time.
Fuck. Forty-five minutes.
He could have sworn it was only for a few seconds.
When he glances to his left, Atsumu is no longer on the couch with him.
“Atsumu?”
There’s no response.
Kiyoomi calls for him again, louder this time. There’s the sound of something clattering coming from the kitchen, making Kiyoomi’s heart start to race as he leaps up.
Instantly, worst-case scenarios start planting themselves to the forefront of Kiyoomi’s mind. Of Atsumu somehow getting into the outlets, or opening the oven, or somehow getting into the knife drawer—
When Kiyoomi makes it to the kitchen, Atsumu is standing in the middle, holding a pan as big as his head.
“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi snaps, snatching Atsumu up. “What are you doing?!”
Atsumu startles, and the pot in his hand clatters to the ground, just barely missing Kiyoomi’s feet.
Kiyoomi curses, stepping back and taking Atsumu back to the living room before putting him down.
“What were you doing in there?!” Kiyoomi says, adrenaline mixed with relief still coursing through him.
That seems to be Atsumu’s breaking point.
Like a switch has been flipped, Atsumu starts to cry, hunching over so Kiyoomi can’t see his expression.
“Omi, Omi was sad today, so— So I wanted to make him grapes,” Atsumu says in between choked-out breaths.
Kiyoomi falters. “You—”
"I'm bad," Atsumu weeps, breaking out a round of sobs.
Kiyoomi’s heart drops completely. "You're not bad," He tries hastily. "I was worried you might get hurt. Were you scared because I yelled?"
Atsumu nods between his cries.
"I shouldn't have raised my voice," Kiyoomi says, crouching down in front of Atsumu, hands hovering over him. "I promise you're not bad. You're good. You were just trying to help me, weren’t you?"
But Atsumu won't hear it. "I'm bad!”
“Why do you think you’re bad?”
“Samu is gone."
Kiyoomi doesn't even bother trying to parse through Atsumu's logic jump. "He's not gone forever. He's at work, remember? He said he would come by on Friday. That's not far away from now."
"Samu doesn't like me!" Atsumu shrieks, and crumples to the floor. Kiyomi dives for him, but he isn't fast enough to stop Atsumu's head from hitting the ground. Thank god for carpets.
The shock of the hit is enough, though, for Atsumu to start another round of crying.
"Atsumu," Kiyoomi says, reaching for him. "Did you hurt yourself? Is your head hurting?"
"No! No!" Atsumu squirms away from Kiyoomi's touch. "Omi doesn't like me!"
The logic has somehow skewed for the worse. Helplessly, Kiyoomi retracts his hand. Overstimulated was probably the least of what Atsumu was feeling at the moment, so Kiyoomi doesn't try to touch him again. "Atsumu, I do like you. So much. I promise. I like you a lot, okay?"
Atsumu squeezes his eyes shut. “Omi’s lyin ’.”
“I’m not lying, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says.
“Ya are,” Atsumu insists.
“Then can you explain why? Do you remember what I told you, Atsumu? I can’t understand you if you don’t tell me how you’re feeling.”
Atsumu lets out another sob. “I’m bad,” he repeats.
“And why do you think you’re bad?” Kiyoomi asks. “Because I think you’re really good.”
“Samu promised he’s gonna come back,” Atsumu sobs, breaths choked up and sounding painful. “Samu’s not here.”
A horrifying realization finally occurs to Kiyoomi. “You think Miya-san hasn’t called you because you’re bad?”
Atsumu doesn’t nod, but the way his cries get louder answer Kiyoomi’s question for him. “Samu left me,” he wails.
“He didn’t leave you here because he doesn't like you,” Kiyoomi says, but Atsumu doesn’t hear him. “Miya-san loves you.”
“Twins— twins are together,” Atsumu sobs.
Kiyoomi’s heart aches. These are things Atsumu must have grown up with, the notion that twins should always be together. He wonders what the fallout must have looked like, when Osamu had decided to leave volleyball for good. Kiyoomi reaches forward again. “Atsumu.”
Atsumu falls forward, and this time, it’s into Kiyoomi’s lap. Kiyoomi wastes no time, and scoops him up into his arms, ignoring the tears and mucus on his face. Atsumu starts to cry again.
“Samu said I’m Tsumu,” Atsumu cries into his chest, like this is the most devastating piece of information in the world.
“Atsumu—“
“ Tsumu.”
Kiyoomi only holds Atsumu tighter against him. “Sorry, Tsumu. I can call you that from now on.”
Atsumu nods, pulling back so he can wipe a fist roughly over his eyes. Kiyoomi sighs, and uses his shirt to clean up the rest of Atsumu’s face. He’ll just throw the shirt out after all this is taken care of.
Kiyoomi isn’t sure how much time passes until Atsumu’s cross starts to taper off, just a little.
“I want Samu. Please,” Atsumu says with a hitched breath.
Kiyoomi feels a painful twist in his gut at Atsumu’s continued distress. “I’ll call him, and see if he can come over tonight or tomorrow.”
Atsumu shakes his head. “Now.”
“We can call him to see, but it might not be possible for him to drive over. We have to understand if he’s too tired, okay?” Kiyoomi figures as he says it that there’s actually a fairly good chance that even if Osamu is exhausted to the bone, he’ll be in the car and on his way the second he hears Atsumu sniffle.
Kiyoomi watches Atsumu take in another deep breath, and prepares himself. “No! I want Samu! I said please!” He sobs impossibly louder. “I said please.”
“I know,” Kiyoomi says patiently. “I know you said please. Thank you for being so polite. We can call him together and see if he’s free to come. And while we wait for him, we can play together. Because you’re not bad, Tsumu. You’re so good.” Kiyoomi realizes as he speaks that he means it honestly, both to this version of Atsumu and the one he’s dating. It nearly takes the breath away from him with just how much he means it. But that’s not something to sit down and process right this second. He continues to Atsumu, who looks at him now like Kiyoomi’s words are his only salvation, which— intense look for a toddler, but then again, this is Atsumu—- “And because you’re so good, do you know what happens next?”
Atsumu hitches a breath. “Samu?”
Kiyoomi nods, praying to any god that Osamu will pick up. “That’s correct. Miya-san will come, and we can all play. Does that sound good to you?”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Kiyoomi agrees, quickly dialing Osamu on his phone before Atsumu can do anything else.
It takes several rings, but eventually, the line connects. “Sakusa-san? Is something wrong?”
“Samu?”
“Tsumu?” Osamu’s voice hardens. “What’s wrong? Did Sakusa-san say something to ya again?”
“I didn’t,” Kiyoomi cuts in. “Atsumu just has some concerns he’d like to air out with you.”
Atsumu blubbers for a bit, clutching the phone tightly to the side of his face. “Sa- Samu,” Atsumu says again, before pausing to cough. Right onto Kiyoomi’s phone screen. Kiyoomi shivers.
“Tsumu, it’s on speaker. If you hold it so close to your face, it’ll be too loud for your ears,” Kiyoomi says softly, gingerly pulling the phone down so that Atsumu is holding it in front of him. He’ll buy a new phone later. “You can still hold onto the phone,” he adds when Atsumu looks at him in betrayal. “Take a deep breath and then explain everything you want to say to Miya-san, okay?”
Atsumu nods hesitantly, and swallows. “Why- Why is Samu not here ?”
Osamu’s voice softens. “I’m working on the shop open here for a bit. Do you remember when I explained it to you?”
Atsumu shakes his head.
“He can’t see you,” Kiyoomi says. “You have to say it out loud.”
Atsumu shakes his head again. “No,” he pouts.
Osamu sighs over the phone. “Sakusa-san, can you set up FaceTime for him? I think this’ll work better if we can talk face-ta-face.”
“One second,” Kiyoomi says, leaning over to set up the call, all while Atsumu keeps holding onto the phone.
It takes a moment to connect, but once it does, Kiyoomi can feel Atsumu go nearly limp against him despite the iron grip he has on Kiyoomi’s phone.
“Hi Tsumu,” Osamu says, voice softer than Kiyoomi’s ever heard it. Osamu’s still in his work clothes, phone propped against something so that he can rest his head on his palm. There’s movement behind him, but Osamu pays it no mind.
Atsumu’s little hand waves at the phone screen. “Samu.”
The phone screen is laying flat on Atsumu’s palm so that he has to crane his neck down to see Osamu on the other end. Kiyoomi is tempted to help him hold the phone up so he doesn’t get a crick in his neck, but there's a ninety percent chance that even touching his phone right now will make Atsumu break down again, and Kiyoomi refuses to risk it. He’ll have to make sure Atsumu sleeps in a comfortable position tonight.
Osamu makes a sympathetic noise. “Ya wanna tell Samu what’s wrong now? I thought you told me you understood when I told ya why I had to leave ya with Sakusa-san for a few days.”
“Samu left me here because, because I’m bad,” Atsumu says, voice breaking on the last word.
“I don’t remember tellin’ ya that,” Osamu says.
“Ya did,” Atsumu insists.
Osamu just shakes his head. “I didn’t.”
“Then, then why aren’t ya here ?” Atsumu asks.
“Do ya remember when I told ya what I do now?”
Atsumu hums. “Yer makin’ onigiri.”
“Yep,” Osamu responds, popping the ‘p’. “And I can’t do that from Sakusa-san’s house. And ya can’t come here, either. Ma didn’t let us into her kitchen until we were way older than ya are now.”
“I went to the kitchen here too,” Atsumu says, still upset.
Osamu raises an eyebrow. “And I’m sure I’ll hear all about that when I come over in,” Osamu pauses, looking thoughtful, “thirty minutes. Give or take.”
Atsumu perks up. “Yer comin’?”
Osamu nods. “Yeah, I’m comin’.”
“If you can’t,” Kiyoomi interrupts, “it’s fine. I’ll explain it to him.”
Osamu looks at something off to his right. He looks tired, but he shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine. I could use the break anyways. And the rest of the staff can handle themselves fer a night.”
The call wraps up soon after, Atsumu making Osamu promise again that he’ll be there as soon as he can and before Kiyoomi puts Atsumu to sleep.
“I’m, I’m going to go wait for him,” Atsumu declares once the call is over, sniffling one last time. He still holds Kiyoomi’s phone tightly
“He might not be here for a while,” Kiyoomi says, “Let me wash your face first.”
-
There’s a knock on the door exactly twenty-three minutes later.
Kiyoomi hears his phone go off at the same time.
Atsumu’s been sitting in front of the door as soon as he escaped from the bathroom, settled down on a couch cushion Kiyoomi had moved over for him once it had become clear that Atsumu was completely serious about waiting it out. Kiyoomi, from his vantage point in the living room, sees Atsumu jump at the simultaneous noise. He turns to look at Kiyoomi, a smile pulling on his face. Kiyoomi nods, making Atsumu’s smile grow wider.
“Samu?” Atsumu asks, turning back to the door before, very politely, knocking back.
Kiyoomi almost laughs. “You have to open the door.”
“But I can’t reach it,” Atsumu says.
“Then you should ask me, right?” Kiyoomi says, walking over and patting Atsumu’s head.
“Open the door, please?” Atsumu asks. “It’s Samu.”
Kiyoomi nods, nudging Atsumu backwards. “Step back a bit, or else the door will hit you in the face. And then you’ll have to say hi to your brother with a big bump on your forehead, and then he might actually kill me.”
Atsumu giggles, and Kiyoomi opens the door.
-
“Listen,” Osamu says to Kiyoomi later, when Atsumu gets distracted enough by a clip of a MSBY match on Osamu’s phone.
“Do you wanna know why I left him with ya?” Osamu asks.
“Other than the fact that we’re together?” Kiyoomi asks.
“That’d never be the only reason,” Osamu says. “I know Bokuto and Hinata were available.”
Kiyoomi isn’t quite sure how to respond to that.
“I’m—”
“Which isn’t to say that I don’t trust ya,” Osamu explains. “Normally I’da just thrown him at any of ya and would have trusted ya ta deal with the rest, but... Well. Our parents never knew how to deal with Tsumu as a kid, especially when he got upset, and they always made things worse. So I had to pick who I left him with carefully.”
Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow. “Worse?”
Osamu nods. “I didn’t get it then, cuz I was a little scrub too, but they didn’t know how ta help him when he was upset. Our parents were overwhelmed, I guess, at havin’ twins, and I only ever got into a fight with Atsumu while Atsumu got into fights with everyone. He really didn’t like other people.”
Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow. “He still doesn’t.”
“Yeah,” Osamu agrees. “Our parents never got why he was lashin’ out, so their solution was just ta ground him until the problem solved itself.”
“And he was lashing out because?”
Osamu shrugs. “Again, I’m speakin’ for him right now, so I could be totally wrong, but my guess is that he was just lonely. When we were little, he was convinced our parents hated him ‘cause they’d always leave him alone. He’d do all this stuff to get their attention, but the only time they’d look at him was when he was gettin’ inta trouble. He doesn’t talk about it, so I don’t know how much it affects him now, but I can’t imagine it didn’t have some effects on him.”
“And that’s why,” Osamu says, making Kiyoomi look back up at him, “Why I left him with ya, I mean. Ya always paid attention ta him, even if it was ‘cause ya wanted to knock his daylights out.”
There’s... something Kiyoomi feels hearing this. He looks away from Osamu and instead focuses on Atsumu. He watches Atsumu’s eyes widen in awe as, on the phone screen, a grown-Miya Atsumu sets the ball to Kiyoomi in one of their last matches of the season.
It’s something dangerously teetering on love.
-
Kiyoomi wakes up sandwiched between two Miyas. Two adult Miya’s.
“Thank god,” Kiyoomi mumbles, closing his eyes again. He could use another three hours of sleep. He doesn’t think they went to sleep until past midnight, when Atsumu had finally, finally crashed from the overstimulation of having Osamu and Kiyoomi in the same place at once. By the end of it, Kiyoomi had barely enough energy to place Atsumu in the middle of the bed and wrap himself around him to make sure Atsumu didn’t fall off in his sleep, paying no mind to the way Osamu had collapsed onto the bed with them.
Atsumu is already awake, given the way Kiyoomi can feel him propping himself up his elbows. He's sure Atsumu must be boring his eyes into Kiyoomi's face, but still, he doesn't open his eyes to check. “Why are you in bed with my brother?”
Kiyoomi swats at where he assumes Atsumu’s face is. “I’ll tell you in the morning.”
“It’s the morning right now.”
“Later in the morning,” Kiyoomi says. He’s exhausted. He deserves this.
“And what do ya expect me to do right now, huh?” Atsumu asks, a distressing amount of wakefulness in his voice. “Newsflash, asshole. Three grown-ass men aren’t fitting on this bed.”
“Then get up,” Kiyoomi says.
“So you can be in bed with just my brother. Are ya hearin’ yerself, Omi?”
Kiyoomi groans, feeling around for Atsumu’s hand. Once he grabs a hold of it, he drags Atsumu towards him until the majority of Atsumu’s body is draped on top of Kiyoomi’s chest. “There. Now we all fit.” He pats Atsumu’s lower back.
“This still doesn’t explain why you’re in bed with Samu. One Miya wasn’t good enough for ya? Why is he even here? Actually, why am I here?”
“You’re so fucking weird,” Kiyoomi mumbles. He has no idea how Osamu is sleeping through this. Then again, Atsumu is just as heavy of a sleeper. Maybe it’s a twin thing. Or just a Miya thing. Or even a self-saving tactic. Kiyoomi can only wish. “Can’t you just sleep?”
Atsumu drops his head onto Kiyoomi’s neck. “I’m so lost.”
“I know, baby,” Kiyoomi says.
“Ya promise you’ll explain ta me later?”
“If you let me sleep right now, I’ll explain whatever you want.”
“Holdin’ ya to that,” Atsumu says, and settles against Kiyoomi.
What Kiyoomi is sure will happen just a few minutes from now: Atsumu will get restless, try to sneak out of bed, accidentally elbow Kiyoomi on his way, and from there, there’s an equal chance that he’ll fall off the bed, make breakfast, or go for a run.
A few hours from now, Kiyoomi will have to explain to Atsumu that he was a toddler for the better part of the week, and Atsumu, knowing the kind of person he is, won’t be able to let it go until he figures out why. Kiyoomi has a few guesses himself for when Atsumu inevitably asks ‘why’. Atsumu could have just been stressed while preparing for Osamu’s visit, or he needed to get a good tantrum out of his system. Or maybe he just wanted to be with Kiyoomi and Osamu together, and didn’t know how to balance that in any other way.
Kiyoomi doesn’t know, and at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter now that Atsumu is finally back. Very little matters, in the face of that. Kiyoomi still doesn’t let himself feel the bone-crushing relief that Atsumu is finally back, not yet. It’s too big of an emotion when he’s barely half-awake, and he already knows he needs to process the way worry had been eating at him over the last week, even when he barely let himself feel it in the moment. It can wait for when he finally has a minute to himself.
He already feels Atsumu start to shuffle. He prepares himself for feeling a sharp elbow jabbing itself into his side, keeping his eyes firmly shut.