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Kiyoomi’s eyelids start to droop but he shakes his head to force himself to stay awake. He has five more pages of his literature book to read before he moves onto his English assignment - which he needs to finish quickly if he wants to move onto his history project and his dreaded math homework. He has too many things to do and sleeping wouldn’t accomplish any of it.
He yawns, rereading the last paragraph and trying to commit the words to memory. He’ll have to write an essay for this book once they’re finished reading it and he doesn’t have time to reread different sections because he fell asleep while reading them the first time.
“Samu!”
Kiyoomi chews on his cheek, urging himself not to get distracted. The last thing he needs is for one of those knot-headed twins to ruin this solo study session. His teacher had told him he was taking on too many advanced assignments and his resume already looked good enough for any reputable university to accept. But he didn’t want ‘good enough’, he wanted to be desirable. He wanted schools to beg at his feet for him to attend next year. The thought of the offers alone pushes Kiyoomi through the next page, and the page after, and then-
The shatter of glass echoes through the house.
Kiyoomi’s head shoots up, back stiffening as he looks at his closed bedroom door with narrowed eyes. He snaps his book shut and tucks his glasses away in their case, pushing himself back from his desk and racing towards the sound of broken glass.
“Are you stupid?” Kiyoomi snaps, storming into the kitchen where glass is littered across the tile, mud soon to be added if Atsumu’s intended route is anything to go by. “Take off your shoes, you disgusting piece of shit.”
“ Sorry princess,” Atsumu grumbles, taking a step back and pulling off his dirtied sneakers before tiptoeing over and grabbing the volleyball off the pile of grass. “I was only gonna be in here for a second.”
“I don’t know how you did it back in the sticks,” Kiyoomi starts, glaring at Atsumu and carefully moving around the kitchen to find the broom, “but in this household we remove our shoes before entering the house, especially if they’re filthy.”
Atsumu rolls his eyes, tucking the volleyball under his arm. “Again, Hyogo - not the bumpkin country ya keep thinkin’ it is.”
Kiyoomi’s seen enough of Hyogo natives to think otherwise. Atsumu and his brother, their silly accents and wild personalities - of all the misbehaved children Kiyoomi has met in Tokyo, they all pale in comparison to the Miya twins. “Yet there’s broken glass and mud on the floor.”
Atsumu grins, the one he uses to really piss Kiyoomi off and slips back on his shoes haphazardly. “Thanks for cleanin’ up, Omi!” he says and ducks out the kitchen door before Kiyoomi can give him the broom.
“You-” Kiyoomi hisses, then runs to the broken window to catch Atsumu walking around the side of the house. “This is your mess to clean up, Miya!” he snaps.
“Huh?” Atsumu asks, cupping a hand behind his ear. “Sorry, I’m just a dumb yokel, I can’t understand yer fancy Tokyo accent.” He turns his back on Kiyoomi and runs off to an awaiting Osamu in their backyard.
Seven months ago, Kiyoomi had the perfect life. A busy schedule, wonderful grades, a quiet house to study and work on his grades. His father, who he chose to live with after the divorce instead of following his mother to Paris, went out of town often enough and left Kiyoomi with a credit card he could use for whatever he needed. Most people would consider Kiyoomi’s life boring, but he liked it - no, he loved it.
And then the move happened.
Kiyoomi knows his father’s relationship with an omega out of town was getting pretty serious, Kiyoomi just didn’t realize it was that serious until his father sat him down and explained that Kotomi’s ex was putting up a fight about helping pay for her rent, harassing her and her boys, and their life in Hyogo just wasn’t great right now. So, out of the goodness of his heart, he asked Kotomi to move in with them.
Which meant that Kiyoomi’s peace and quiet was thrown through the kitchen window, just like the one Atsumu broke. His evenings with lit candles while he enjoyed a bath were replaced with Osamu banging on the door, asking when he would be finished so they could take a shit. His studying music had to be stopped at 9 pm sharp or else Atsumu couldn’t fall asleep. Kiyoomi couldn’t even enjoy having volleyball to himself because Osamu and Atsumu were right there on the court with him.
And above all else, both of them are alphas. Young alphas at that - they have no control over their scents, they’re insufferable, knot-headed, and utterly horrendous. Kiyoomi was lucky enough that by the time he started noticing the difference between omegas and alphas, his siblings were past this horrific phase. Kiyoomi can hardly keep his nest from being infiltrated by the scent that wafts in from across the hall. If only he hadn’t taken his time alone for granted. Had he known what kind of living condition he’d be in now, he would have let him indulge in the little things.
Kiyoomi huffs in frustration and begins to sweep up the glass, careful to step around the small shards. He doesn’t know how the twins are going to explain this mess, and surely Kotomi will offer to pay for the repairs. The house has never been in such disarray, even when his brother and sister were living here.
He dumps the broken glass into the trash and looks at the window again, letting warm summer air slip through. There’s no point in even trying to cover it up and make it look better, especially since it wasn’t his fault. Kiyoomi glances back towards the stairs where he knows all of his assignments are waiting for him to finish, though he knows he’ll be too frustrated to concentrate. So instead he goes outside ready to give the twins an earful.
“I hope you have money to pay for the window,” Kiyoomi says, walking up to the net where Atsumu sets the ball for Osamu. “You’re the one who broke it.”
“Wasn’t me,” Atsumu says, not bothering to give him a second glance. He watches Osamu slam the ball down into the grass on the other side and grins.
“Then I suppose a stray volleyball just happened to smash through the kitchen window.”
Osamu shrugs this time, only pissing Kiyoomi off more. He is supposed to be the more responsible twin - that’s what Kiyoomi’s father had said when he begged Kiyoomi to give them a chance.
Go to Osamu. Osamu will help you. Osamu is years ahead of his brother in maturity.
The biggest lie Kiyoomi has ever heard. “It ain’t a big deal. Windows are cheap to fix,” Osamu says, as if kitchen windows breaking was a daily occurrence in their old home.
“Hey while yer here,” Atsumu starts, moving on while he ducks under the net to grab the ball. “Can ya receive and send the ball back over?”
“I have to study,” Kiyoomi answers, crossing his arms. Though the warm air and the call of the makeshift court is dangerously tempting. “I have assignments due this week.”
Atsumu waves him off. “Ya can get ‘em done later. Come on, it’s only gonna be for a little longer.” He bumps the ball in the air, arcing it towards Kiyoomi who easily catches it.
“30 minutes only,” Kiyoomi decides, tossing the ball between hands. “And then you two are going to leave the house so I can study in peace.”
“Sure sure,” Atsumu brushes off easily with a grin. “Don’t chicken out about the dirt and really dive for the ball.”
“Who broke the window!?” Kotomi screams from said broken window. The sun has now set, casting long shadows around them. Kiyoomi didn’t even realize how long it had been - he only wanted to stay out for a short while and then return to his reading where he would study until dinner time. More importantly, he wanted to be there to greet his father and tattle on the culprits. Now, three teenagers playing volleyball with the same fervor as professional athletes, look shell-shocked as Kotomi glares back at them.
“Hey mom,” Atsumu says and waves, tossing the volleyball behind him. “Samu was practicin’ his serve, sorry about that.” He speaks so casually about it, Kiyoomi almost believes that a broken window really isn’t that big of a deal.
“Osamu,” their mother snaps, pointing her finger at her son. “Get inside. Now. ”
Osamu sighs, and for once, Kiyoomi is surprised that he actually was at fault - usually Atsumu blames everything on Osamu and pretends to be surprised when no one believes him. “You were actually telling the truth,” Kiyoomi mumbles to Atsumu, helping him bring in some of their trash from snacks and drinks.
“Y’know,” Atsumu starts with a grin, catching a popsicle wrapper before it can fly away, “I tell the truth quite a bit, but no one ever believes me.”
“Maybe because 98% of what you say is bullshit.” He hands his trash to Atsumu.
“And 2% of that is the truth, have to keep y’all guessin’.”
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, picking up his phone from the table to scroll through his notifications. He turns off the forgotten alarm - the one he set when Osamu asked him if he was going to go back to studying and Kiyoomi had said he’d play for another 10 minutes. He sends off a response to Motoya’s ridiculous question, and then reads the quick response Wakatoshi sent agreeing to attend the summer festival together. Kiyoomi bites his lip to hide his smile - it’ll be the first time since Wakatoshi graduated that he’ll be coming to visit Kiyoomi. They’ve only been dating for a little while now, a simple relationship that began while they were both at a tournament. Long distance (if you can call it that considering they’re in the same city, just on opposite ends) is hard and Wakatoshi is almost as dry of a texter as Kiyoomi is.
“That yer boyfriend?” Atsumu asks, tossing his shirt over his shoulder.
“Don’t read my texts over my shoulder,” Kiyoomi scolds, closing his phone and tucking it in his pocket. “But yes.”
“Yer imaginary boyfriend?”
“He’s not imaginary, you’ve literally met him.”
“Yeah, only at tournaments and conveniently never around ya.” Atsumu hums, tapping his bottom lip. “Kinda seems like ya made the whole thing up.”
Kiyoomi knows he’s only doing this to rile Kiyoomi up - he shares a wall with Kiyoomi, he knows that Wakatoshi always calls him on Tuesday nights when he gets a break from practice and team bonding nights. But it is true no one ever really sees them together, even Motoya was surprised when Wakatoshi wrapped his arm around Kiyoomi one day when they were hanging out - like the details of their relationship were just some fantasy that Kiyoomi told to him like a bedtime story. “Well I didn’t,” Kiyoomi snaps and turns his nose up, “and you’ll see that when he comes to the summer festival with me.”
“Cliche.”
“Oh, because your rooftop flings are a romantic getaway.”
Atsumu shrugs. “At least ya know they’re real. Ya guys even fuck yet?”
Kiyoomi’s face flushes and he quickly walks away from Atsumu. “You’re disgusting.”
“Taking that as a ‘no’.”
“It’s not any of your business.”
“Excuse me?” Atsumu starts and Kiyoomi knows exactly where this is about to go. “I am yer older brother, it absolutely is my business. I need to make sure yer safe!”
Kiyoomi scoffs. “You’re so annoying.” He’s heard this entire bit from Atsumu at least a dozen times: I’m the older brother so I get to pick what we watch. Don’t make me call mom and dad, as your older brother I’m in charge. Kiyoomi gagged the first time he heard Atsumu make that stupid joke, now it’s just old. The fact of the matter is that their parents will probably never get married. This is just a fling and in three or four months, the twins will be back in the countryside where they belong.
It’s not enough that Kiyoomi has to share an entire house and bathroom with Atsumu, but he’s in Kiyoomi class, too. It wasn’t like this at first, only a recent development born from Atsumu’s apparent hidden genius. He heard Atsumu tell a fawning omega that he’d been faking dumb just to get through the rest of his third year without having to put much effort in and his teacher caught him. Kiyoomi’s not sure what’s worse: Atsumu’s cocky fable or the omega actually believing it.
Actually, what’s the worst is seeing Atsumu slip into class late after every break, usually accompanied by a blushing omega just seconds after. The first time Kiyoomi saw it happen, he flushed and turned away. The eighth time, Kiyoomi rolled his eyes and wanted to know what was so special about some stupid country boy.
There was one particularly awful day when an omega brazenly came up to Kiyoomi and demanded he set her up with Atsumu. She’d seen the two of them come to school together and figured Kiyoomi was the person to ask. After Kiyoomi was finished chewing her out about it, she didn’t show up to school the next day and no one tried to involve him in their chase for Atsumu ever again.
But that hasn’t kept Atsumu from bothering Kiyoomi. Sometimes it’s not even a physical thing - like when he purposefully coughs while Kiyoomi reads aloud - but a silent presence that makes Kiyoomi’s eye twitch. He swears he can feel Atsumu’s intense stare on the back of his neck, his hackles rising after Kiyoomi raises his hand to answer a question.
Atsumu swears he isn’t doing anything and it’s all in Kiyoomi’s head . . . but Kiyoomi has seen him swear hundreds of different lies on his grandmother’s grave while looking Osamu in the eye. The trash on the street is worth more than Atsumu’s promises.
“Stop following me,” Kiyoomi snaps one day, having enough of it all.
“I ain’t followin’ ya, we’re both goin’ to practice,” Atsumu defends, trailing behind Kiyoomi just enough to drive him mad.
“Then walk next to me. Or go a different way, I hate having a shadow.”
Atsumu scoffs but takes a few longer strides to stand beside Kiyoomi. “Ya got a real stick up yer ass lately, Omi.”
“Its name is Miya Atsumu.”
That earns him snort while he moves out of the way for two girls coming down the hall towards them. “I’ve done nothin’ wrong this time.”
“Give it a second, I’m sure that will change.”
Atsumu moves on, slinging his bag over his other shoulder. “What did ya get on the math test?”
Kiyoomi doesn’t answer because that math test - his most hated and worst subject - had been so awful his teacher passed it back to him face down. He was keeping up with their assignments and chapters for a great run, but these last few lessons have been miserable. Kiyoomi feels like he has to work triple just to keep his head above water.
“Bad score then.”
“I did fine.”
Atsumu hums, that stupid grin starting to spread. “Watched ya squirm the whole test.”
Kiyoomi turns to glare at him. “You should have focused on your own test so they don’t kick you back down to the normal classes. Or worse.”
His canines are on full display now. “Worried about missin’ me if I leave?” Kiyoomi scoffs, ready to answer with enough curses to curdle milk, but Atsumu says, “98 points.”
Narrowing his eyes, Kiyoomi gauges if this is one of the 2% of truth that Atsumu says, or just another lie to make himself seem more important. He could easily see their teacher shaking his head and tutting as he passed Atsumu’s test back and told him to stay after school for a retake. “You’re lying,” Kiyoomi says.
“Am I?” Atsumu’s eyes slide to him, daring him to ask for his test paper just so he can brag. Immediately, Kiyoomi recounts the students in their class, trying to remember who Atsumu sits next to and just how smart Kiyoomi thinks they are. The desks are too far apart to cheat (he knows this after a shameful and desperate attempt on a previous math test when he tried to cheat off of the kid next to him) but Kiyoomi knows better than to underestimate what Atsumu is willing to try.
He doesn’t get a chance to answer that as they walk into the locker room and Kiyoomi goes his separate way to the omega changing room.
His pencil rapidly taps against the desk as Kiyoomi stares down his math textbook. Only six problems to solve tonight and they’re all neatly written down on a sheet of graph paper beside him. He’s been at it for the last forty minutes and Kiyoomi only has . . . six more to do. He tosses his pencil aside and lets out a frustrated sigh.
How ? How has he been at this for nearly an hour and not a single problem has been solved - not even that, he hasn’t even begun to solve them. Not even a wrong step to even start, just blank squares where something should go. It shouldn’t even be this hard, this is the first part of the new lesson and they just learned this today.
Kiyoomi glances towards his phone, hoping Wakatoshi has answer his text to give him something to look at besides derivatives and dumb fucking numbers. When he sees there’s no response he just gets more annoyed and triple checks that his text even went through. He knew Wakatoshi was bad at answering texts, it’s why he likes Tuesday nights so much when he actually gets to have a real conversation with him rather than five sentences spread out between five days. They’re both in Tokyo for fuck’s sake, yet Kiyoomi never sees him because of their conflicting schedules.
This distraction isn’t good considering he just gets angry if he thinks too hard on their relationship. He tosses his phone on his bed and goes back to his math homework, hoping that he’s suddenly become clairvoyant in that short 10 second break and now everything will make sense to him.
Except it still doesn’t and no matter how many times Kiyoomi looks back at the earlier pages, it’s not making any sense.
In a fit of frustration, Kiyoomi’s mind betrays him and flits back to his conversation with Atsumu earlier when he had bragged about a near perfect score on his math test. Kiyoomi didn’t want him to prove it at the time, too annoyed that if Atsumu was telling the truth, he was better at something than Kiyoomi. Still, when he glances back down to his blank page of paper, he chews on his bottom lip and considers the possibilities in his head.
One: Kiyoomi asks if he’s actually good at math - he is. He’ll be smug about it, brag to Kiyoomi about his test scores, laugh in his face when he sees Kiyoomi’s and just how stupid he is with math, he’ll be too annoying to properly tutor Kiyoomi.
Two: he lied (unsurprising) and when he pieces together that Kiyoomi was asking him because he wanted help, he’ll realize Kiyoomi’s stupid and be annoying about that .
Kiyoomi groans and drops his head into his heavy textbook, wondering if it would just be easier to die than ask Miya Atsumu for help.
Finally, he raises his head and decides that if the cat’s going to be out of the bag anyway, it’s better for it to come from Kiyoomi. He stands up and walks into the hallway and stands at the bedroom door beside him. It used to belong to him when he was much younger before his siblings moved out and he got to pick which of their rooms he wanted. He knocks on the door before he can back out.
“Yeah?” Atsumu’s voice calls out, and Kiyoomi forces himself to open the door enough to peek his head through. Atsumu’s sitting at his desk, a volleyball match playing off of his laptop while he works on his own homework. God his scent is strong. Kiyoomi avoids his and Osamu’s room even if their scent slips out and into Kiyoomi’s room anyway. When Atsumu doesn’t hear a response, he spins around in his chair and looks at Kiyoomi. “What?”
Kiyoomi clears his throat and slips into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him in case Osamu is listening in. The last thing he needs is two Miya twins knowing how stupid he is. “Um,” Kiyoomi starts, tugging at a string on his hoodie. “Were you telling the truth about your math test?”
And because Atsumu somehow always knows, a sly grin spreads across his face. “I’ve been waitin’ for this day for ages,” he says smugly, spinning his pencil in his hand.
Kiyoomi frowns and crosses his arms. “I don’t see why or how,” he says defensively. It’s not like he actively spreads the news that he’s atrocious at math. “Besides you being a miserable person.”
“Ya always save yer math homework for last,” Atsumu notes, tucking his pencil behind his ear. “Textbook’s in rougher shape than yer other books, probably ‘cause you keep usin’ it to slam yer head into whenever ya get mad.”
“You can’t possibly know my proficiency at math just from that,” Kiyoomi defends.
“Yer right,” Atsumu agrees. “I just hear ya swear at yer homework every night before ya go to bed.” He knocks on their shared wall with a knuckle. “The curses that come outta yer mouth would kill a priest.”
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes - this is even worse than he thought. He reaches behind him for the doorknob, deciding that it is easier to die or flunk out of high school math than it would be to work with Atsumu. “Nevermind, I’m going to bed.”
“C’mon, Omi,” Atsumu says, turning around and pausing his volleyball game. “I’m gettin’ ready to start on it next, let’s do it together. I promise I’ll try not to annoy ya. Bring yer stuff in here.”
Kiyoomi’s hesitant at first - sitting in an alpha den where all he can smell is Atsumu while he’s trying to learn? Sounds like a nightmare. “Or-”
“Ya want me to be in yer room?” Atsumu asks, eyeing Kiyoomi over his shoulder. “In yer cute little omega room?”
“How about the dining table?” Kiyoomi decides, biting his tongue from cursing out the one person who can make or break his final year of high school math. “Common ground.”
“Alright, dining table it is. Take yer shit downstairs, I gotta finish this question first.”
This is just one moment of weakness, Kiyoomi decides. One night of temptation from the devil himself promising top scores on his next math test. Tomorrow night, Kiyoomi won’t have to worry about asking Atsumu for help again because he’s going to pluck out all of his knowledge tonight.
As he gathers up his books, he takes a glance at his phone on the bed. He’d rather not look at it every five minutes waiting for Wakatoshi to finally text him back. Then again, will he even be able to concentrate on math if all he’s thinking about is an awaiting text (or even a call!) upstairs? He huffs in frustration and shoves it into his pocket on his way downstairs.
“See now yer startin’ to get it,” Atsumu says, nodding along as he watches Kiyoomi finish up a problem. “I told ya this was easy.”
‘Easy’ is not how Kiyoomi would describe the first 30 minutes of this math tutoring session. They resorted to putting on a volleyball game in the background while they worked to ease the tension after a very heated argument on why the fuck aren’t you understanding this yet I just gave a perfect explanation . Watching volleyball calms Atsumu weirdly enough, like putting Mozart on for a baby. His eyes would catch a great play in the midst of insulting Kiyoomi’s intelligence and suddenly he turned into a nicer tutor after seeing his favorite team score.
Kiyoomi tosses his pencil down when he finishes his last problem and slumps down in his chair with exhaustion while Atsumu takes the paper to look over the problem. “Are we done?”
“Gimme a second to look over it would ya?” he says even though he was breathing down Kiyoomi’s neck the entire time, breath hitching whenever Kiyoomi started to write the wrong number. Finally, with a nod, Atsumu hands the paper back. “Good job Omi. Ya came a long way.”
Kiyoomi sighs and starts to close up his textbook when he feels a buzz from his pocket. He’d nearly forgotten about bringing his phone with him, too busy with calming breaths to not jump across the table and throttle Atsumu. He quickly stops what he’s doing and fishes his phone out, opening it up with zero shreds of dignity. But his heart falls when he sees it’s just his dad, reminding him that they need to be in bed by 11 pm.
“Somethin’ wrong?” Atsumu asks, sliding his books into his backpack. “Ya look like yer gonna cry.”
“I’m not,” Kiyoomi answers, but it lacks heat. He’s tired, his brain can’t handle anything else, and he just doesn’t want to keep being disappointed. “Just . . .” There’s no point in saying anything to Atsumu - he’s not going to get it and he’ll just make fun of Kiyoomi. “It’s nothing.”
“Well,” Atsumu says with a stifled yawn, “see ya in the mornin’ then. Try not to let nothin’ keep ya awake.”
Kiyoomi waits until Atsumu’s back upstairs, then a few seconds longer before he dials Wakatoshi up. He chews on his thumbnail while it rings. And rings and rings until Kiyoomi isn’t even sure he’s going to pick up. Then, right before he snaps his phone shut with a click, the line connects and there’s a sound of raucous laughter.
“Kiyoomi-kun?” Wakatoshi asks, though it’s muffled by the background noise. “It isn’t Tuesday.”
“I know, sorry, I-” Kiyoomi sits straighter in his chair, feeling more like calling an estranged parent than a partner. Another laugh, closer this time. “Where are you?”
“I’m out with the team. Did you need something?”
“No, I just . . . you haven’t answered my text from earlier.”
“My apologies,” Wakatoshi says. “I’ll answer it when I can.”
“Of course.” Kiyoomi clears his throat. “I won’t keep you then, have a good night.”
“Thank you, you as well.” The line goes dead before Kiyoomi can say goodbye and he pulls back the phone to see the awkward selfie they took before Wakatoshi went off to play for the Adlers. Kiyoomi sighs, tucking it back into his pocket and trying to reel back in his scent before the acridity of it leaks upstairs and alerts someone.
“Forgot my water,” Atsumu says shortly after, startling Kiyoomi as he turns the corner again. He can’t even be sure that Atsumu heard anything, but he still flushes, keeping his head low as he finishes packing up his books. He leaves before Atsumu comes back from the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time in hopes of locking himself in his bedroom so he can get out a quick cry before going to sleep.
When he turns around to close his door, Atsumu is standing at his doorway. Kiyoomi knows he’s caught the glint in his eye of tears that threaten to fall. “What?” he asks, voice cracking with weariness and disappointment.
“Ya should be with someone that appreciates ya, Omi.”
Kiyoomi scoffs, though it comes out more like a wet sob as a tear slips down his cheek. “Advice from my ‘ older brother ’?”
“Nah,” Atsumu says with a grin. “Just someone smarter than that guy.” He begins to reach out, almost like he’s going to wipe Kiyoomi’s tear, but thinks better of it and turns away. “Night Omi.”
“Maybe the reception was just bad,” Motoya offers while he helps Kiyoomi cool down after practice. But even he knows that’s probably not true and Kiyoomi and Wakatoshi’s relationship hasn’t been ideal from the beginning. “He’s coming to the summer festival, right?”
Kiyoomi nods, switching legs for Motoya to stretch out his hamstrings. “At least he said he would.” He sighs, wincing when a twinge of pain shoots up his spine. It’s always like this the last few weeks before his heat - hip pain, oversensitivity. He hates being an omega sometimes. He’d start on suppressants if his dad let him, but he keeps being told how bad they are for young omegas. “I’m probably just overthinking it,” he adds.
Motoya was kind enough to keep a straight face while Kiyoomi told him just how awkward his phone call with Wakatoshi was and only said supportive words to keep Kiyoomi’s mind from racing. There is a very strict schedule that Kiyoomi created for himself when he was younger: graduate high school, go to school for sports medicine, graduate top of his class, then join the Adlers where he’ll play for three solid years before having a pup with his mate - ideally Wakatoshi. He wants someone who is strong, athletic, and smart - someone who wants the same things as Kiyoomi and is caring, and -
There’s a loud crash that startles the whole gym. Even their coach comes flying out of his office as everyone looks over at the two alphas fighting with each other and knocking over the ball cart. Atsumu has Osamu pinned beneath him, the collar of his shirt gripped tightly in his fist.
“Are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Atsumu screams, his other hand threatening to punch Osamu.
“Get offa me!” Osamu snaps, grabbing Atsumu’s hand and biting down on the skin harshly. His brother yelps, taking a handful of Osamu’s hair and yanking on it to try and free his hand.
“What is going on here!?” their coach yells. He’s still not used to the twins on the team, and hasn't found a way to tame either of them like their previous coach most likely had. “Break it up! You, Watanabe, get them off of each other.”
But Watanabe doesn’t move, rightfully so. Their fights can get vicious and teammates who are still a little afraid of the twins are always hesitant to get in between them. Sometimes Kiyoomi wishes they came with instruction manuals from Kita or Aran, players who dealt with the twins and knew exactly what to do in this situation.
“Should you stop them?” Motoya asks, letting up on Kiyoomi’s stretch as he watches the two of them.
“Why me?” Kiyoomi asks, sitting up. Their accents are so heavy and half of the words Atsumu is shouting is a mix of insults and swearing - who knows what they’re even arguing about this time.
“You know them best out of all of us. They’re technically your brothers.”
Kiyoomi sighs. “We’re not brothers, don’t say that again.” Still, Motoya is half right. Out of everyone, Kiyoomi spends the most time with the twins (albeit unwillingly). “Atsumu!” Kiyoomi snaps from across the gym, not even sure it will do anything or if he’ll even hear him.
But Atsumu’s head pops up, looking over with the same ire and for a moment, Kiyoomi swears he’ll turn his wrath onto him instead. Then, slowly, his arm sinks and he lets go of Osamu’s hair, who then spits out Atsumu’s hand. It’s like he’s come back to his senses, no longer a feral alpha. He looks around at their audience and down at Osamu, then lets go of the tightly gripped fabric in his hand and stands. “I’m goin’ home,” he announces, throwing one last glare at Osamu before he storms off.
It’s awkward after that, the slam of the gym door echoing as the tension suffocates everyone in the gym. Someone moves to help Osamu off the ground, no one dares follow after Atsumu. Their coach clears his throat and motions for everyone to finish their cooldown exercises.
“Should you go after him?” Motoya asks quietly once whispered murmurs have picked back up and another teammate bravely invites Osamu to be their partner.
“And say what exactly?” Kiyoomi hisses, moving Motoya’s leg around in his hand to help him stretch. “I’m not their mother. Or their sibling don’t even say it. Coach will say something to their mom and she’ll figure it out.”
He doesn’t see or hear from Atsumu for the rest of the day. He went home before Osamu and Kiyoomi and stayed in his room for the rest of the night. Kotomi brought him some dinner, though Kiyoomi knows it just sat outside his door for a while until she brought it back downstairs to put in the fridge. Osamu won’t say a word though he hasn’t holed himself up in his room.
Kiyoomi has seen them argue before, though most of their spats only lasted a few hours, but this one seems worse than all of those. Even Kotomi seems worried; Kiyoomi’s dad sitting beside her on the couch and rubbing her back as she quietly whispers her concerns. Kiyoomi doesn’t even know what it’s about, but he does know this: he has a math assignment due and as much as he hates to admit it, Atsumu’s tutoring really did help him.
Which is how he ends up in front of Atsumu’s door at 9:30 pm, chewing on his lip as he knocks and hopes that Atsumu will answer it for him. He doesn’t, but Kiyoomi can hear a faint roar of cheers from a volleyball game he’s watching. He knocks again, sounding more sure this time than before.
“Go away,” Atsumu says from inside, turning up his volleyball game.
“It’s me.”
A snort. “Then definitely go away.”
Kiyoomi bites his tongue, gripping his math homework in his hand tightly. This is a low point for him, begging Miya Atsumu for help. “Please?” he tries again. “I have a question about the math assignment.”
There’s a frustrated huff and the sound of bed springs before the door is unlocked and cracked open. “Figure it out yerself.” His hair is a mess, dried wrong after a hasty shower, a scab over his lip, and a furrow in his brow. “The book tells ya how to do it.”
“I already tried using the textbook and it’s still not making sense.”
Atsumu rolls his eyes and opens the door wider to let Kiyoomi in. “I’ll help ya on one problem only , then ya have to do it yerself.” He walks to his desk and pauses the game then pulls out the chair and motions for Kiyoomi to sit. “Lemme see it.”
“We’re doing it in here?”
“I’m not goin’ downstairs. It’s in here or nothin’.” Reluctantly, Kiyoomi crosses the threshold and Atsumu’s scent engulfs him as he does. “Close the door behind ya.” He shuts it and brings his notebook to the desk and sits down. “Show it to me.”
It feels a bit like sitting at the dinner table with Kiyoomi’s father over his shoulder, asking him why he can’t figure out this simple math. Nervously, he flips open to the page of his scribbled notes and previous attempts and waits for Atsumu to read through it all. One of his hands is on the desk as he leans over to read, bandaged up and already bruised from where Osamu bit him.
“Did you clean that?” Kiyoomi asks without meaning to.
“I’m not a fuckin’ idiot, ‘course I did.”
“With antibacterial?”
“Are ya here to be my doctor or ‘cause ya suck at math?”
Kiyoomi tugs at the sleeve of his sweater. “Just wondering.”
Atsumu doesn’t answer again, studying the problem on the notebook page. With a sigh, he picks up the pencil and circles a few spots on Kiyoomi’s notes. “Ya keep forgettin’ this step,” he says. “Ya gotta add these together first before the next step.”
“Oh, right,” Kiyoomi says, taking the pencil from him to start on it even with Atsumu breathing down his neck. “Do you have-” Atsumu hands him a calculator before he can finish asking. “Thanks.” It’s awkward while Kiyoomi attempts the problem with Atsumu looking over his shoulder.
When he finishes, he slides the notebook towards Atsumu’s hand and waits for him to check it. While he does, Kiyoomi glances up at the volleyball game Atsumu’s watching and recognizes it as the one they had watched last night. “You’re rewatching it?”
“Yeah. The Falcon’s setter is unmatched this season.” Kiyoomi scans the players on the team, spotting Ojiro Aran in midair to hit an awaiting spike. He remembers how excited Osamu and Atsumu were when Aran had been subbed in after sitting on the bench for most of the season. “And Aran-kun’s spikes are disgustin’ this match, they gotta put him as a starter next season if they know what’s good for ‘em.” He passes the notebook back to Kiyoomi. “Looks fine.”
“Thanks,” Kiyoomi says and takes it from him. “On the second question-”
“I said I’d help with one problem,” Atsumu reminds, grabbing his laptop and walking it over to the bed. “Ya hafta figure the rest out on yer own.” He lies back down on his bed, resting the laptop on his stomach to continue watching the game.
Kiyoomi sighs and collects his things. There’s another chorus of cheers as Aran hits a great set, scoring another point for the Falcons. Kiyoomi remembers the game well, especially because Atsumu had forced everyone to shut up anytime Aran was about to make a play.
“Are ya goin’ pro?” Atsumu asks right before Kiyoomi opens the door to leave.
“In math?”
“In volleyball. After high school, are ya gonna sign?”
“No.” Atsumu scoffs, turning on his side to face away from Kiyoomi. “I’m going to university first.”
“Waste of time.”
“Are you and Osamu signing after high school?” Atsumu doesn’t answer and Kiyoomi wonders if their fight earlier is a repeat of this conversation now. He takes a chance and asks, “is that what you were fighting about?”
“It’s nothin’.”
“Didn’t seem like ‘nothing’.”
“I didn’t ask ya when yer nothin’ was botherin’ ya.” Well, he has a point there. Atsumu didn’t mention it again after seeing Kiyoomi cry that night and acted like everything was back to normal. But Atsumu’s scent is turning sour, still angry over his fight with Osamu.
“Well I didn’t throw a ball cart at my brother’s head over ‘nothing’.”
Atsumu doesn’t deign to answer his question. “Shut the door when ya leave.”
On Saturday, Kiyoom sits in between the twins while they watch the Adlers vs. the Jackals. For the most part the twins have made up - as in they can be in the same room without throwing a punch, but neither of them have really spoken to the other yet. Kiyoomi heard Osamu mention something to Atsumu about Suna, but the conversation wasn’t much longer than that.
“Jackal’s setter sucks this season,” Atsumu says with a sigh, watching as the team he’s rooting for poorly sets a ball towards his hitter. It’s too high and off centered, causing the spiker to nearly miss and instead send it straight into the awaiting block. One more point to the Adlers.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the court, it’s Wakatoshi’s turn to serve. The Jackals are only keeping their head above water with a strong defense, but even they have a hard time getting under Wakatoshi’s serve. The ball shoots up in the air, a bit skewed, but their setter manages to get to it. “Here we go again,” Atsumu grumbles and stands up from the couch.
“You’re not going to watch?” Kiyoomi asks.
“Do I wanna see their setter fuck up another easy set?” he shakes his head. “Game’s over anyway.” He leaves the living room, going back upstairs to his room and leaving Osamu and Kiyoomi to watch the final few points of the game. He’s not wrong when he said the game was over - once the set gets messed up again, it lands perfectly into the Adler’s setter who arcs it perfectly into the awaiting hand of Wakatoshi.
“They used to be such a strong team,” Kiyoomi notes, watching the players line up at the net to thank the opposing team. “Their setter retiring early really messed up their team.”
“Yeah,” Osamu agrees, “they need a new setter bad. Probably why they’ve been houndin’ Tsumu about signin’.”
“What?” This is the first time he’s heard about this. He knows there have been some scouts at their games, though most of them are for lower division teams looking to nab players before anyone else. “Is he going to sign with them?”
Osamu shrugs, playing with a strand of his hair. “I think he had his heart set on the Falcons so he could play with Aran-kun again. Said somethin’ about the Raijins too since Suna’s gonna sign with ‘em after graduation.”
EJP Raijins - he knows Motoya has been getting letters from them, too. “Has anyone reached out to you?” He knows it’s probably wrong to seek out answers that Atsumu wasn’t willing to share with him, but there’s a burning curiosity in him to get to the bottom of it.
“No,” Osamu answers, “I mean they have, but I’m not playin’ volleyball after I graduate.”
“Oh,” Kiyoomi says meekly, picking at a scab on his hand. “Are you going to university then?”
“I’ll take a year off, maybe work in a kitchen or somethin’. Eventually I wanna open a restaurant.” Osamu sighs and reaches for the remote. “Did you wanna keep watchin’?” The TV is still playing the game, though it’s only highlights of the game before the players come back out for interviews.
“I just want to see Wakatoshi’s interview.”
“‘kay,” Osamu says and passes him the remote. “I’m gonna work on homework then. Let me know if they’re announcin’ a new setter.”
Kiyoomi nods and bids him goodnight, then turns up the volume. He sent out a quick text to Wakatoshi earlier to wish him good luck, though he hasn’t gotten a response. It’s not unusual because of warm ups and post game meetings - he probably won’t get a response until the morning anyway. Most of the highlights are from the Adlers, save for some disgusting blocks from Meian that ultimately won them the first set. But Atsumu isn’t wrong that their setter is weak - the team can only do so much defense before their poor offense takes a toll on their points.
Once the players come back out and reporters catch them in time for the interviews, Kiyoomi isn’t paying much attention. He doesn’t care about what the other players have to say, mostly just waiting to see Wakatoshi’s. He plays a game on his phone while he waits, only looking up every once in a while when a new player starts speaking.
Atsumu comes back down after a little while. “Adler’s win?” he asks, standing behind Kiyoomi and watching a post-game interview.
“Yeah,” Kiyoomi says and looks up to see Tomas from the Jackals answer a question about their defense. He looks back down at his phone. “They need a new setter,” he notes, thinking about Atsumu’s offers and just how much stronger he could make their team. Even if Kiyoomi hates giving compliments to Atsumu, he has to admit that he’s one of the strongest setters in their generation. Iizuna was just fine, a solid and reliable presence on the court, but Atsumu is . . . he takes risks, he knows his players. Even players on Itachiyama who struggled to hit Iizuna’s sets have an easy time with Atsumu because he knows how to make each player look good.
“Ain’t that your boyfriend?” Atsumu asks next, interrupting Kiyoomi’s train of thoughts. He quickly looks up to see if Wakatoshi has begun his interview, but what he sees sends ice through his veins. He quickly tosses his phone to the side and sits forward to be closer to the TV as the camera manages to catch the very edge of Wakatoshi being touched by an unknown set of hands. It’s not in the friendly or professional way that an athletic trainer might touch a player, but intimately like Kiyoomi would if he ever got to spend more time with him. Atsumu says something else but Kiyoomi quickly shushes him, begging the cameraman to inch just a bit to the left so he can see just who has their hands all over his boyfriend.
Then, Wakatoshi leans down quickly as if he’s kissing whoever is beside him. Atsumu whistles low. “Damn.” Damn is right. Because when Wakatoshi comes back into frame, he notices the camera and Kiyoomi sees his eyes widen ever so slightly before he quickly ducks out of view.
Wakatoshi calls him on Tuesday night while he does his homework with Atsumu in the dining room. Kiyoomi glances at his phone while Atsumu asks him a question about their biology assignment, but he ignores it and flips his phone face down. Atsumu doesn’t seem to notice the first time, but after the third attempt he nods to Kiyoomi’s vibrating phone.
“Maybe ya should answer it.”
Kiyoomi picks up his phone, confirms it’s Wakatoshi, and chucks it through the doorway and onto the couch. “I’ll call him back later.”
“Omi,” Atsumu starts with a sigh, leaning forward on the table. “Ya can’t just ignore him, ya don’t even know for sure what ya saw at the game.”
Kiyoomi glares at him, a wordless demand that he shut the hell up unless he wants to face Kiyoomi’s wrath. “Finish asking your question.” But even from the other room, they can hear the phone continue buzzing. It just confirms what Kiyoomi saw - usually if he doesn’t answer the first time Wakatoshi calls, he’ll leave a voicemail and tell him to call back later. This incessant ringing reeks of guilt.
“Yer not even a little bit curious of what he’s got to say?”
“Nope.”
“Maybe it was his sister?”
“He’s an only child.”
“Or a-”
“ Miya ,” Kiyoomi snaps, nearly snapping his pencil in two. “Drop. It.”
Atsumu runs a hand through his hair, pushing it up in different directions. “Look, I ain’t gonna lie: I’m curious what he’s got to say for himself.”
“Then maybe you should date a cheating bastard like him.”
“Or just answer it and see what he wants. Maybe yer just making a big deal over nothin’. He doesn’t even know that ya saw-” he gestures vaguely with his hands “-whatever that was.”
Kiyoomi glares at Atsumu then roughly scoots his chair back and storms to the couch to grab his phone. He picks it up on the last buzz, nearly missing the fourth call from Wakatoshi. “Hello?” he asks, staring down Atsumu as he walks back over and sits back at the table.
“Kiyoomi,” Wakatoshi says with a hint of relief. “Are you alright? I tried calling you-”
“I’m fine,” Kiyoomi snaps, already regretting this. He shouldn’t have let Atsumu goad him into this, it’s just going to end in a miserable fight. “Did you need something?” There’s a part of him that relishes in giving Wakatoshi the same cold treatment he’s given Kiyoomi the last few weeks. Maybe it started at the same time Wakatoshi found some other omega bitch to fuck.
“It’s Tuesday,” he says awkwardly. “We always speak on Tuesday.”
“I’m busy with homework tonight, I can’t speak.”
“I see.” The silence is almost painful and Kiyoomi watches Atsumu scoot closer to listen. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I already told you I’m fine,” Kiyoomi snaps again. Even Atsumu flinches away from him, going back to his homework, though he’s just retracing character’s he’s already written while he continues listening to their conversation. “I’m just . . . swamped with assignments.”
“I understand. I remember when I was struggling to fit volleyball into my school schedule as well,” he says as if it wasn’t just last year. “Can I see you?”
“Tonight?”
“No. Perhaps tomorrow evening, I can pick you up from your practice and we can eat at your favorite restaurant.”
Seeing Wakatoshi in person is the last thing he wants to do, especially if he’s just bringing him out to dinner to break up with him in person. It curdles something in Kiyoomi’s stomach and he eyes Atsumu, pencil hovering over his paper as he listens closely. “Okay,” Kiyoomi agrees anyway. If he’s going to have his heart broken, at least he’ll get an expensive meal out of it.
“Alright. I will call you when I arrive.”
“Goodnight Wakatoshi.” Kiyoomi hangs up before he even entertains the idea of his soon-to-be ex boyfriend saying something like ‘I love you’. He snaps his phone shut and sets it on the table between him and Atsumu, then sighs and throws his head back.
“At least yer gettin’ free food out of it.”
“I probably won’t even be able to eat.”
“Want me to sneak into the restaurant with you?”
The idea of Atsumu standing out like a sore thumb in such a well respected restaurant does make Kiyoomi chuckle, but the enjoyment doesn’t last long. “Definitely not.” There’s a disgusting feeling that settles in his chest as he thinks about his and Wakatoshi’s relationship. He always gave him passes, excusing his absence because he was in the V.League, making a name for himself out there and practicing to grow as a player. Yet somehow he managed to find time to fuck another omega. Maybe Kiyoomi would understand if they lived in different cities, even different continents . But they’re less than a 20 minute train ride and Wakatoshi has a car. They don’t see each other because Wakatoshi just doesn’t want to see him .
Atsumu picks up on the change in his scent, reaching out and awkwardly patting Kiyoomi’s shoulders. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here for ya.” And somehow, those are the words he wants to hear most.
Kiyoomi barely makes it through classes, his mind wandering entirely too much to listen to his teacher ramble on about a subject he already hates. Every time he thinks about seeing Wakatoshi, his stomach churns and he has to wiggle around in his chair just to try and focus again. His scent keeps leaking through his scent patch, and if it weren’t for Atsumu giving him fresh ones, everyone in their hallway would know just how anxious Kiyoomi is. It doesn’t help that his heat is coming up on him, only adding fuel to a burning pile of emotions.
Volleyball at least distracts him for a while. Atsumu keeps everyone on their toes, ready for any nonsense he’s going to try that day during practice matches. Kiyoomi doesn’t get time to think about the impending doom of his relationship when Atsumu makes him jump higher for a spike or dive for a sneaky setter dump. Keeping up with him is another task on its own, it reminds Kiyoomi why he loves the sport so much.
But no matter how easily volleyball takes his mind off of it, he has to face the music. At the same time Kiyoomi helps Motoya place the last volleyball in the cart, his phone pings and sends his stomach rising into his throat.
“Is that him?” Motoya asks, dropping his ball off into the cart. Kiyoomi had already spoken to Motoya the night they’d both seen Wakatoshi’s secret lover have their hands all over him on national television.
“Probably,” Kiyoomi answers, though his voice comes out weak.
“Maybe it’s just going to be one big misunderstanding. You guys have kept your relationship mostly private, right?”
“That doesn’t mean he gets to sleep with other omegas,” Kiyoomi snaps and immediately regrets it when he catches some of their teammates looking over their way. He straightens his shoulders and takes the cart from Motoya, trying to use anything to stall. As he continues helping clean, his phone pings a few more times. Atsumu eyes him whenever he passes him, silently questioning him, but Kiyoomi ignores him and finds another small task to distract himself with.
Then the chatter in the gym stops as the gym door swings closed and everyone looks over at Ushijima Wakatoshi except Kiyoomi. It’s like time stops around him, his teammates freezing in place as their eyes dart between Wakatoshi and Kiyoomi until Atsumu and Motoya snap at everyone to mind their own business and get back to work.
Kiyoomi knows he can no longer run from this. It’s easy to ignore the incessant texts from Wakatoshi, asking why he hadn’t come out to the car yet, but it’s much harder to ignore his demanding presence in person, especially when Motoya snatches the broom from his hand and practically kicks him towards Wakatoshi.
“Sorry,” Kiyoomi starts, anything but , “coach made us all clean tonight because of the twins’ fight.” It’s a complete lie, but it’s better than the truth. “Did I make you wait long?”
“It was nothing,” Wakatoshi says. “Come, we have a dinner reservation in 15 minutes.”
Kiyoomi’s hand aches. That’s what he gets for not listening to his older brother’s lessons in self defense, he should have taken better notes on how to throw a punch and maybe he wouldn’t be rummaging through their bathroom to find their first aid kit.
“Goddamnit!” he snaps, slamming a cupboard and wincing when it jostles his hand. Maybe it’s not broken, just a little sprain and he’ll recover in a few days with some ice and a wrap. Except he can’t find the wrap because it’s in the first aid kit which isn’t here .
He knows he keeps it stocked and ready for just about anything in his bathroom. He wracks his brain, thinking of the last time he used it when he remembers seeing the bandage on Atsumu’s hand that night after his fight with Osamu. Kiyoomi stands up and crosses the hall, knocking a little too loudly on Atsumu’s door considering the time. But everything sucks tonight and Kiyoomi doesn’t give a damn what’s polite anymore.
“Christ Omi,” Atsumu says, opening his door with a yawn, “what if I was sleepin’?”
“Where’s the first aid kit?” Kiyoomi asks hurriedly, clutching his hurt hand. Atsumu spots it immediately, eyes flickering down to catch the faint bruise blemishing Kiyoomi’s hand.
“What happened?”
“Where is it?” Kiyoomi repeats. He doesn’t want to talk about dinner with Atsumu because if he does . . . “You used it last.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Kiyoomi scoffs. Wakatoshi didn’t hurt him per say, though it did hurt like hell when Kiyoomi tried his best right hook into that face of stone. “Is it in your room or not?”
There’s something that flickers across Atsumu’s face, taking in Kiyoomi’s appearance and attitude and piecing everything together in that frustrating way he does. “C’mere,” he says, motioning with his head for Kiyoomi to enter. “It’s in here.”
“Then give it to me so I can wrap my hand.”
“D’ya know how to?”
“I’m not a baby, Miya. I’ve injured my hand before.”
“Not by throwing a punch.”
Kiyoomi sighs in irritation. All he wants to do is crawl into his bed and pretend this day didn’t happen. No, this WEEK didn’t happen. It’s easily competing for the worst week of his life. Unfortunately, Atsumu does have a point that Kiyoomi only knows how to take care of his hand when he’s injured from volleyball - and as much as he wants to hole away, he cares too much about his hand. He’ll probably have to get it checked out by their trainer to see if it’s worth a trip to the hospital.
Kiyoomi steps into the room and closes the door behind. Atsumu motions to his desk chair and goes to dig through his messy closet until he pulls out something resembling the first aid kit Kiyoomi had worked so hard to keep organized. “What did you do to it?”
“Probably same thing ya did to yer hand.” Atsumu brings the chaos to his desk and sets it down beside him. “Lemme see it.” Kiyoomi doesn’t have any fight left in him so he lets Atsumu inspect his hand gingerly, turning it this way and that, carefully eyeing when Kiyoomi flinches. The way he holds it so gently, it’s almost calming and something Kiyoomi didn’t think he so desperately needed right now. “Yer not gonna take my word for it, but I think it’s just a sprain,” Atsumu says, keeping Kiyoomi’s hand still while he digs around the kit for a wrap. “Ya can talk to . . .” He trails off and only then does Kiyoomi realize he’s crying.
“Can you wrap it?” Kiyoomi asks impatiently, using his good hand to wipe his tears. He refuses to let Atsumu feel bad for him, he’s already at a low and he doesn’t need that to dig him any deeper.
Atsumu wants to ask more questions, it’s evident in his eyes, but he does the wise thing and silently wrap Kiyoomi’s hand in a bandage with the same care he used while inspecting the injury. “Ya should talk to the school nurse tomorrow,” he says quietly, finishing off the wrap and smoothing out the bandage over Kiyoomi’s wrist. “I don’t think ya hit him hard enough to break it. Not that he didn’t deserve it.”
A choked laugh escapes Kiyoomi’s throat and more tears slip past. He hides his face in the crook of his elbow and cries while Atsumu cleans up the kit. “I’m so stupid,” Kiyoomi hisses, the weight of the night finally taking its toll. “So fucking stupid.”
“Yer not stupid, Omi,” he says with a sigh. “Don’t blame yerself.”
“It was right in front of me. All of the signs and I never-” a sob rips through his chest and he finds himself leaning against Atsumu, trying to find a strength that doesn’t exist within him. Atsumu’s hand curls around the nape of his neck, smoothing down his curls while he lets out a calming scent. “I wasn’t good enough.”
“He told ya that?”
“He didn’t have to. If I were a better omega, he wouldn’t have had to find someone else. He wouldn’t have cheated on me if I put out, or was easier to handle, or-” More hot tears slip from his eyes and Atsumu’s shirt soaks them up. “It’s my fault.”
“Omi,” Atsumu says, pulling away so he can kneel before him. He takes Kiyoomi’s good hand in his, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “Don’t say stuff like that ‘cause it ain’t true. Ya did nothin’ wrong, and ya know that. Whatever Ushijima did was ‘cause he’s a dumbass and couldn’t appreciate that omega he had.”
“But-”
“Nothin’. There’s nothin’ else ya coulda done, ‘kay?” He looks up into Kiyoomi’s teary eyes, flicking between them as he burns his words into Kiyoomi’s memory. Then, as if finally giving into the temptation from so many nights ago, he wipes the tears from Kiyoomi’s cheek. “Don’t cry, Omi. Alphas ain’t worth yer tears.”
Kiyoomi doesn’t understand what happens next, only that he’s in a dark place and needs comfort, and Atsumu, who has been releasing a steady, calming scent since Kiyoomi began crying, is right there. He touches Kiyoomi so gently, so caring that . . .
Kiyoomi kisses him. He leans forward and presses his lips to Atsumu’s, searching for something to ease the pain in his chest. And Atsumu’s lips are so soft against his, just like his touch while we cared for Kiyoomi’s hand.
When he finally understands what he’s doing, he also realizes that Atsumu didn’t kiss him back. A wave of shame washes over him, not unlike how he felt at the restaurant once he realized he sucker punched Wakatoshi and their waiter stared in disbelief as Kiyoomi ran off. He quickly ducks his head, standing from the chair to make another hurried exit. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”
He doesn’t get to finish when Atsumu’s hand grabs his wrist and pulls him back into him and kisses Kiyoomi this time. There’s a small gasp of surprise that slips from Kiyoomi’s lips which slowly turns into a sound of satisfaction as Atsumu’s hand wraps around his waist and he tilts his head to deepen their kiss. It’s everything Kiyoomi needs right now, even if a part of him is begging him to remember this isn’t something he should enjoy. Nothing good can come of this, and yet -
Kiyoomi used to kiss Wakatoshi because he felt like he had to. It felt similar to kissing a stone wall, cold lips, no warmth behind his movement. But Atsumu . . . he knows Atsumu gets around. He’s seen Atsumu sneak out of the omegas’ bathroom with his shirt rumpled and lips swollen. It shouldn’t be surprising that he’s just so good at kissing, because this feels nothing like what he’s used to. He actually likes this, he wants to keep kissing Atsumu.
But there’s a noise in the hallway and they both quickly pull apart, hearts hammering in their chest as they stand dangerously close to each other. Kiyoomi expects Osamu to come bargaining in, complaining to Atsumu about eating the last of one of his sweets like Kiyoomi so often hears, but there's only silence.
“Ya should ice that,” Atsumu says awkwardly, turning away to put the first aid kit back together. “Coach will probably have ya sit out tomorrow until yer cleared.”
Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks down at his wrist just to look at something other than Atsumu. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“And try not to sleep on it.”
“Yeah.” He flexes his fingers and winces when pain shoots up his wrist. “I’ll - I’m gonna go to bed.”
“I probably should too.” Kiyoomi glances up and catches Atsumu’s eyes quickly looking away. “Night Omi.”
“Goodnight Atsumu.”
He ignores Atsumu the last few days right before summer break, not because he regrets what happened that night between them, but because of how badly he wishes it could happen again. He didn’t mean to kiss Atsumu and he hates that he isn’t revolted whenever he thinks about the kiss, but instead flustered at it. His heart flutters in his chest just imaging what it would be like to kiss him again, this time with no interruptions. Would his calloused fingers feel rough as they ghosted across Kiyoomi’s skin, or maybe he takes better care of his hands and the skin would feel as soft as his lips had.
Kiyoomi flexes his injured hand to ground himself with the pain and stop letting his mind roam to something like that. He should feel disgusted about these thoughts of Atsumu because their parents are dating - Atsumu, for all intents and purposes, is his step-brother right now (even if their parents aren’t actually married). Even if it weren’t already taboo, it would be disrespectful to their parents’ relationship. Kiyoom has to keep reminding himself that his heat is soon and he’s vulnerable right now and that’s the only reason keeps wondering how Atsumu’s tongue would feel shoved dow-
There’s a knock on his door, so hesitant he knows it must be his father. Kiyoomi hasn’t really spoken to anyone since breaking up, though he’s sure his scent and despondent mood are clear indicators that something happened. “Kiyoomi?” his dad asks, peeking his head into the bedroom. “Do you have a second?”
He sits up in his bed and does his best to look somewhat put together even if he feels anything but. “Yeah,” he croaks, voice hoarse without use.
His father clears his throat and slips into the room, pretending to be interested in the decor on Kiyoomi’s walls and shelves as he makes his way over to his bed and takes a seat on the edge. “So,” he starts, “there’s a relatively large bouquet of roses downstairs in the kitchen.” Kiyoomi’s nose wrinkles in disgust - he hates roses, long before Wakatoshi decided to use them as an apology for what he did to him. “Judging by your reaction, you’d like me to toss them?”
“No point in wasting, just give them to Kotomi or my sister.”
“And the card?”
Kiyoomi pauses, chest coiling with a mix of disgust and anticipation. “What does it say?”
His father opens and closes his mouth a few times. “Well,” he starts, wringing his fingers, “quite a bit. I didn’t read it, of course.” A lie. “Do you want me to bring it to you?”
He shakes his head and sinks farther into his bed. “Toss it. Or burn it, I don’t care.” Kiyoomi’s forgiveness cannot be bought with expensive flowers he doesn’t even like and an apology crammed on a small card.
His dad smoothes back his curls, worry setting in his brow. “Do you want to talk about it?” Kiyoomi shakes his head. “I think you should talk to someone. I’m worried about you, we all are. After that night when you came home by yourself and a broken hand-”
“It’s just a sprain,” Kiyoomi interrupts. Their trainer looked at his hand and told him it wasn’t broken and to keep it iced.
“Sprained or broken,” he says, waving a hand in indifference and continuing his parental monologue, “Atsumu told me what happened.” Ice runs through Kiyoomi’s veins, guilt churning his stomach. What all had he disclosed? Just the part where Kiyoomi cried to him about not being good enough, or did he also include how they had made out in Atsumu’s bedroom with wet tears still staining Kiyoomi’s cheek.
“He did?”
“Well, only some of it. He mentioned your break up, but said I should talk to you about it if I wanted to know more.” His dad sighs, running a hand through his own greying curls. “Your mother was always better at this sort of stuff,” he admits. “I remember when your sister had her heart broken for the first time and your mother was out of the country for a conference.” He shakes his head with a short, reminiscent laugh. “I’d never been more thankful for her return then so she could handle her tears.” He looks at Kiyoomi again and pats his shoulder. “About mine and Kotomi’s vacation . . .” The annual trip to Okinawa that his dad goes on for a conference and uses the tail end of it like a vacation. Usually he goes alone, and Kiyoomi doesn’t mind because he enjoys having the house to himself for a week and a half. This time it’ll be different for both of them - Kiyoomi with the twins and his father inviting Kotomi with him on the trip. “I can cancel it this year.”
Kiyoomi shakes his head. It’s one of the few pleasures his dad actually takes for himself anymore. “You should go,” Kiyoomi urges. “I know you’ve been waiting for this all year.”
“I’m just worried about you, Kiyoomi.”
“I’ll be fine, I’m just - “ Depressed? Disgusted with himself? A little horny for the alpha in the room next to him? A mix of all three? “I’ll get over it. It probably wasn’t going to last anyway.” He says this as if he didn’t have an entire life planned with Wakatoshi - courting, giving him his virginity, letting him take Kiyoomi as his mate, maybe have a pup or two . . . none of that matters now.
“I’ll have my phone on me the whole time. Call me, no matter what time, and I’ll get on the next flight to Tokyo.”
Kiyoomi smiles weakly. “Really dad, I’ll be okay.”
He doesn’t seem convinced, but concedes and pats Kiyoomi’s arm as he stands. “It’ll be pretty quiet in the house for once,” he adds. “Osamu is going to Hyogo for your summer break to see his friend. Might just be you and Atsumu here, though I think he mentioned going to see his friend Ojiro-kun in Yokohama for a day or two.” His dad looks around his room once more and spots the yukata peeking from Kiyoomi’s close. He’d taken it out before everything happened to get it ready for the summer festival. “Sorry I’ll miss it this year,” he apologizes and motions to the hanging piece, steamed and ready to be worn.
Kiyoomi laughs softly. “I don’t even know if I’m going this year.”
“You should! You always like the summertime festivals, no point in letting one alpha spoil the fun for you. Ask Atsumu to take you, the two of you seem to have gotten close, which is good because I was worried you two would never get along.”
Kiyoomi tugs his blankets high over his face, hoping to cover the blush that he knows is creeping onto his face. “Maybe.”
With nothing left to talk about, his dad clasps his hands together. “We’re leaving tomorrow afternoon, so if you change your mind by then, just let me know. I’ll send the flowers down to Kaori so you don’t have to see them.”
“Thanks dad,” Kiyoomi says. He knows this is probably the last thing he wanted to deal with before going on vacation and actively hoping Kiyoomi changes his mind about moving to France with his mom.
“You’ll get through this, you’re a tough omega, Kiyoomi.”
If it weren’t for Motoya, Kiyoomi wouldn’t be out here tonight at the festival. He was ready to put his yukata away until next year when he could enjoy himself without thinking of his runed plans. But Motoya is persistent and he refused to let Kiyoomi hole himself away in his room in an empty house. Osamu left yesterday for Hyogo, and Atsumu this morning for a day trip to see Aran. Kiyoomi had planned to spend the day reading and working on his summer break assignments, but Motoya practically broke into his house just to drag Kiyoomi out to the festival.
It isn’t awful, but it is hot and crowded, and all Kiyoomi can do is imagine what it would be like if Wakatoshi were next to him. Motoya’s presence is demanding enough that Kiyoomi isn’t thinking about it every second, but those little moments when he turns to laugh about something, expecting one person and finding another.
They stay until the sun sets to watch the fireworks on the grassy hill beside the river. Motoya spreads out a blanket for them and they watch in awe as each firework lights up the sky and reflects on the water below.
“I’m glad you came,” Motoya says, resting his head on Kiyoomi’s shoulder. “Even if I’m not the person you wanted to go with .”
Kiyoomi scoffs and elbows his cousin. “I always come with you.”
“Yeah, but I know you wanted things to be different tonight.”
Kiyoomi sighs and leans back on one of his hands. “It’s probably for the best,” he says even if he doesn’t truly believe it. “I could tell he was losing interest in me, it’s better it all happened now while we were still unbonded.”
“Doesn’t mean it hurts less.”
Kiyoomi shrugs. There’s still an anger inside of him for everything he went through, all his wasted time and unnecessary stress - the same part that wants to take revenge, make Wakatoshi feel the same way he felt for months.
As if he can read his mind, Motoya says, “you need a rebound.”
“I most certainly don’t.” He does. And a voice in the back of his mind reminds him exactly who he’d rebound with.
“Yeah you do. Just some alpha you can make out with, use them to get out of your head - casual, you know.”
“I’m not exactly the casual type.”
“You could start.” Motoya sighs as another firework spreads across the sky, removing himself from Kiyoomi’s side and lying flat on the blanket. “I always thought he was kind of a prick,” he confesses, “and kinda like he felt entitled to everything.”
Kiyoomi swallows hard. Even if he hates everything about Wakatoshi right now, it still pains him to think about their relationship. How he planned to go home with Wakatoshi tonight and lie with him for their first time - Kiyoomi’s first time at least. For a long time, Kiyoomi could only see himself losing his virtue to Wakatoshi and no one else - that was also when Kiyoomi swore he wouldn’t be with anyone else. “Can we talk about something else?” he asks, curling his legs into his chest and resting his chin atop of them.
He knows Motoya’s eyes are on him, gauging his reaction whilst speaking about Wakatoshi. He can probably smell Kiyoomi’s anguish through his scent patches. There’s no tears in his eyes this time, at least that part of his break up is over with.
They watch the finale together in silence, children laughing in awe as hundreds of fireworks release at the same time in beautiful, colorful displays. The festival freezes in time as everyone looks up to watch the last few fireworks arc into the night sky and explode. They leave trails of white smoke behind, a memory of the bright explosions.
“I think it was longer last year,” Motoya says once they’ve waited long enough to know it finished, breaking the silence that settled between them.
They take the train back to their neighborhood and walk back together until their paths separate. He didn’t expect anyone to be at the house when he came back, but there’s a light on in the living room when he steps inside. Atsumu’s shoes are sprawled messily in the middle of the walkway, like he’s celebrating not having his mother around to berate him for bad manners. Kiyoomi kindly kicks them to the side where his other piles of shoes are.
“I’m home,” Kiyoomi calls out softly, hoping Atsumu is locked away in his room with a volleyball game playing so loudly he can’t hear anything else. Doesn’t seem he’s lucky enough for that when he hears a call back and the soft chatter of something from the TV. Atsumu is in the living room when he walks in, lying across the couch with an empty take out container on the coffee table. He’s watching the post game highlights and commentary from the Tachibana Red Falcons game from earlier.
“Didn’t you watch this in person?” Kiyoomi asks, standing behind the sofa. Aran most likely got him tickets to a courtside seat if not next to the Tachibana coach himself, he probably had a better view of the game than any one of the thousands of people in the stadium.
“Yeah but I gotta watch it again, shit happened too fast.” He mutes the commentators and sits up on the couch, looking behind at Kiyoomi. It’s like he wasn’t expecting Kiyoomi to wear his yukata, the dark green complimenting his pale skin, and his mouth falls open slightly. With a swallow, he nods towards the kitchen. “I picked you up curry,” he says.
“Thanks,” Kiyoomi answers, feeling a flush creep up his neck. He clears his throat and hands Atsumu the bag of mochi he’d bought to snack on later. “You can have some of this if you want.”
“Thanks,” Atsumu parrots and takes the bag. “Ya - uh, ya look nice Omi. Did ya have fun?”
“Yeah.” God it’s so awkward between them now, Kiyoomi fucked up hard. “Motoya won a goldfish,” he says just to say anything . He clears his throat again and steps back, “I’m going to change.”
Kiyoomi takes a seat on the other end of the couch, far away from where Atsumu is sprawled out. His curls are still damp from his shower and he pushes them out of his face while he dips a spoon into his curry and takes a bite. He didn’t really eat at the festival, only small snacks that he likes to indulge on once or twice a year. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he saw the food Atsumu brought him sitting on the counter.
“They’re almost done,” Atsumu says, sitting up a bit to create more space between them. “Then we can watch a movie.”
“I don’t mind, I’ll probably watch the replay of it tomorrow anyway.” He scoops another bite of curry into his mouth while another clip plays of the Green Rockets’ libero saving a ball in slow motion. “Are you going to join the league when we graduate?” Kiyoomi asks, remembering a conversation between them that feels like ages ago now.
“Probably.” He doesn’t add anymore for a while, twirling a lock of blonde hair between his fingers while the commentators move onto news in the league. “I don’t wanna waste time goin’ to university if I know what I wanna do for the rest of my life.”
Kiyoomi supposes that’s fair, but there’s too many unknowns for him. Omegas don’t stay in the league as long as alphas and betas, usually dropping out to start a family the second they’re no longer in their prime. And for Kiyoomi it’s even more likely that he’ll retire early, his body already aches after long games, he isn’t sure how long it will last for him. He knows he has to have something to fall back on, it’s the biggest reason he’s waiting before joining a league. “Who will you sign with?”
Atsumu lets out a long breath and sits up. “Jackals. Probably.” They need a new setter desperately if they want to make a name for themselves next season. Atsumu is considered the best season of their generation, Kiyoomi can only imagine how many offers and letters he’s received. Kiyoomi received a few offers, but they stopped shortly after once the league found out he’ll be attending university after graduation. “I’ve gotten a couple from some other teams, but - “ he stops and runs a hand down his face. Obviously picking the right team for his debut has been stressing him out. “I don’t know,’ he finishes. “Gotta keep my options open.”
“They’re your favorite team, right?”
“Yeah, I guess. Gotta support Aran-kun first and foremost.”
That gets a short laugh out of Kiyoomi as he finishes up the rest of his curry and sets the bowl in his lap. “Whoever you sign with will be lucky.”
“Or I’ll suck so bad my first year that no one will ever sign with me again.”
Kiyoomi wants to tell him that will never happen, but he doesn’t get the chance to when a picture of Wakatoshi appears on the screen with the caption Ushijima Wakatoshi’s New Relationship . “Turn it up,” Kiyoomi demands, leaning forward.
“Omi-”
“Miya, turn it up.” Kiyoomi doesn’t care if it makes him look pathetic, like a scorned omega.
“And Schwedian Adler’s Ace has posted on his social media that he is no longer the league’s most eligible bachelor, and announced earlier this afternoon that he and model Taketa Mamoru have been dating for the last few months. Sorry to all the omegas out there who kept their hopes up for him, but it looks like he and Taketa are one happy couple.” They follow it up with the picture Wakatoshi released, Taketa smiling while Ushijima kisses his cheek in Tokyo tower.
The commentators move onto different news, leaving a disgusting taste in Kiyoomi’s mouth as he and Atsumu sit in silence.
Last few months .
Months .
Wakatoshi cheated on him for months . Every time he told Kiyoomi he loved him, every time he called Kiyoomi or showered him with gifts - all of it was to hide what he was really doing. And to add salt to his already gaping wound, Wakatoshi was the one who told him they couldn’t go public with their relationship because of his contract. He lied about everything .
Slowly, Kiyoomi rises from the couch and brings his bowl into the kitchen with a worrying calmness over him as he grips the porcelain tightly in his hands. Then, as if everything in him snaps, he hurls the bowl into the wall of the kitchen, shattering the dish and sending broken shards of ceramic to the ground.
“Omi?” Atsumu calls from the living room. “Are ya okay?”
Kiyoomi can’t answer. There’s too many curses weighing heavily on his tongue, he’s afraid if he opens his mouth they’ll be directed at Atsumu. He flexes the fingers on his injured hand, the pain offering a delicious reminder of how it felt to blind-side Wakatoshi in that restaurant and see his usual calm demeanor slip for just one second. For a while, Kiyoomi wondered if he acted too harshly, anger and betrayal taking control of him. Now, he thinks he didn’t hit Wakatoshi nearly hard enough.
“Kiyoomi?” Atsumu calls again, closer this time as he joins Kiyoomi in the kitchen. “Shit, what happen-”
Kiyoomi surges forward and presses his lips to Atsumu’s, gripping the thin material of his shirt in his fist. There’s a startled noise from Atsumu that Kiyoomi swallows down greedily.
“Wai-wait,” Atsumu tries, managing to pull away from Kiyoomi. “We shouldn’t-”
“Shut up,” Kiyoomi whispers against his lips, begging him to just give in for one night and give Kiyoomi something else to think about except the horrors of his life.
“Kiyoomi.”
“Just kiss me,” Kiyoomi begs, desperation dripping in his tone. “Please, Atsumu.”
There’s a war in his eyes, flicking between Kiyoomi’s own irises as he considers him, like he’s trying to convince himself not to give in. As his hand slides up to cup Kiyoomi’s neck, he knows temptation has won and he kisses Kiyoomi again, this time with more surety.
Kiyoomi focuses on the sensation of Atsumu’s lips, his gentle touch as his other hand sneaks up Kiyoomi’s shirt to touch his pale skin. It’s easy to get lost in him, to become engulfed in his presence. It’s exactly what he needs now, to find pleasure in something else - someone else, especially if that same person is the alpha his cheating ex hated. Kiyoomi remembers the few times he had mentioned Atsumu to Wakatoshi, and just how upset he’d gotten at the name.
He tries to pull his shirt off, but Atsumu’s hands keep him from doing it. “Stop tryin’ take yer clothes off,” he whispers, pulling away just long enough to tell him before he goes back to kissing Kiyoomi.
But that isn’t good enough for Kiyoomi and he pulls away. “Atsumu-”
“I’m not gonna fuck ya in the kitchen,” he interrupts, moving down Kiyoomi’s jaw and neck to kiss and nip and leave a burning trail behind.
“Then we can go to my room.”
Atsumu presses one last kiss to the underside of Kiyoomi’s jaw and pulls away to look him in the eye. “Omi, I’m not gonna fuck ya tonight. I want ya to actually want to sleep with me, not just because yer pissed at yer ex.”
“I want to.” Even if it is a little bit of both, and maybe Motoya was right about the rebound. There’s nothing Kiyoomi wants more right now - at least not something he can actually get. “I want you , Atsumu.”
Atsumu steps back, letting out a long breath as he turns away from Kiyoomi and leans his hands on the counter. Kiyoomi can see the faintest hint of blush on his nape, the long slope of his neck leading down to strong shoulders and toned arms. God Kiyoomi wants him right now - he doesn’t even care if it’s a pre-heat induced desire or a post-break up rebound.
“Atsu-”
“Fuck it,” Atsumu huffs and turns back towards Kiyoomi, kissing him more fiercely now, like Kiyoomi is one of those omegas who slip into dark classrooms with him. His burning fingertips tease every inch of Kiyoomi’s skin, leaving him dizzy with weak knees. If it weren’t for Atsumu’s strong grip, guiding the two of them back towards the stairs, Kiyoomi most likely would have buckled under his touch. Is that what it felt like to be wanted? To have someone touch you out of desire and not duty?
Kiyomi’s heel bumps the first step and he nearly stumbles, but Atsumu catches him and it’s the first time Kiyoomi can see just how affected he is over this, too. His pupils are blown wide, there’s a pink dusting over his cheeks - they accent his swollen lips all too beautifully, it brings Kiyoomi to a loss of words. “Careful,” Atsumu breathes out, his hand on the small of Kiyoomi’s back.
“I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t pushing me around,” Kiyoomi says and hopes Atsumu keeps doing it. He peels off the hand on his lower back and intertwines their fingers, a coy grin on his face as he races up the stairs with Atsumu in tow. There’s a short laugh that follows behind him, and he can barely open the door to his room before Atsumu is back on him. He almost trips over Atsumu’s feet as they try to make it to the bed. Once the back of his knees hit the edge of his bed, he lets himself topple and land on his mattress with a light bounce.
Atsumu hovers above him, pulling off his threadbare shirt and tossing it to the side. Kiyoomi’s seen him shirtless before in the locker room, though he wasn’t nearly as desperate to feel the toned skin beneath as he is now. Kiyoomi’s eyes fall lower, to the happy trail on Atsumu’s stomach and finally the bulge in his shorts. He swallows hard, his scent thick with arousal as he spreads his legs to let Atsumu kneel between them. He kisses Kiyoomi again, one heavy and sloppy kiss, before he moves down his neck and sucks at the sensitive gland.
“Ya smell so fuckin’ good,” Atsumu whines, nipping lightly. Kiyoomi bucks his hips, a groan slipping from his lips when he feels Atsumu’s clothed bulge press against his cunt. “Yer scent drives me crazy.”
“You did a good job at hiding it,” Kiyoomi whispers, tangling his fingers into blonde locks of hair to pull Atsumu closer. “I thought you hated it.”
“Never,” he admits, mouthing at the sensitive skin behind his ear. “I jerked off to it the first night I moved in and caught yer scent fresh out of the shower.”
Kiyoomi remembers that night and convinced himself it was a ghost when he heard his name. Now that he knows it was Atsumu, it sends fire into his belly. “You didn’t say anything.”
Atsumu laughs, hot breath fanning across spit-slick skin. “How the fuck would I?” A fair question. They shouldn’t even be doing this now, much less then. “The fuckin’ prick Ushijima didn’t deserve ya, he took ya for granted. I was gonna knock out his teeth that night he made ya cry.” Atsumu grinds down, eliciting a moan from Kiyoomi and sending a spark up his spine. “Take off yer shirt.”
Kiyoomi’s quick to grab the hem, pulling it up over his chest and tossing it aside. The hunger in Atsumu’s eyes as he roves over the freshly exposed skin is delicious . . . and sobering. He never went this far with anyone, much less Wakatoshi. Aside from heavy petting and making out, things were innocent between them. Kiyoomi flushes, feeling the need to cover up even if Atsumu’s seen him shirtless before.
The change in his scent is easy for Atsumu to pick up on, and the look in his eyes changes to curiosity as he gauges Kiyoomi’s reaction. “What?” he asks, grabbing Kiyoomi’s wrist before he can hide his body away. “Why’re ya - shit.” Kiyoomi looks away, his nerves quickly replacing his desperation as Atsumu pieces it all together. “Omi.”
“I still want you,” Kiyoomi says, the warm slick in his panties evident enough. “I just -”
“I didn’t actually think ya guys had never fucked. I thought - shit Omi. We can’t-”
“Why?” Kiyoomi pleads, sitting up to follow Atsumu as he leans back. “I was going to sleep with him tonight anyway if we were still together.”
“That ain’t helpin’!” Atsumu runs a hand down his face. “Baby,” he starts, the pet name doing unspeakable things to Kiyoomi’s mind and body, “I don’t wanna take this from ya just because ya wanna get back at yer ex. What if ya regret it?”
“I won’t.” Kiyoomi takes his hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing Atsumu’s wrist. “I don’t care about it being ‘the right person’, not anymore.” He kisses up his palm, watching Atsumu’s reaction when he gets to the tips of his fingers and takes them into his mouth. Atsumu’s pupils have blown so wide, the tawny brown of his eyes nearly disappearing. He licks his lips, watching as Kiyoomi sucks on his fingers, taking him down to his second knuckle.
“Here’s - “ he clears his throat and tries again, “here’s how it’s gonna work.” Atsumu takes his hand out of Kiyoomi’s mouth to speak with a clear head. “We’re goin’ slow. Ya tell me if I’m hurtin’ ya or movin’ too fast. Don’t just think ya can handle it ‘cause it’s gonna ruin yer first time if ya hate it.” Kiyoomi nods eagerly, crawling up the bed until his head is at his pillow. “If ya do hate it and change yer mind, tell me immediately ‘cause I ain’t gonna wake up to yer cold shoulder tomorrow.”
“Anything else?” Kiyoomi asks. His stomach is still in knots from his nervousness and anticipation, but he knows this is what he wants, no matter what Atsumu might believe.
“Yeah,” Atsumu says breathlessly, not missing the way Kiyoomi spreads his legs wider. “Ya smell like yer about to go into heat. We fuck with the condom no matter what ya say. I’ve fucked a lot of virgins, but I’ve never gotten one pregnant and that ain’t gonna start now.”
While Atsumu ducks back into his own room (Kiyoomi doesn’t want to know how many condoms he has in there), he pulls off his shorts and wishes he’d worn different underwear. If he’d known he was going to get fucked tonight, he might have shaved or trimmed up his hair down there, and he definitely would have worn panties that he hasn’t owned since grade 7. Atsumu’s going to laugh at him when he sees daisies instead of a lace thong - how fucking embarrassing. He panics and pulls his underwear off too, tucking them under his mattress as best he can before Atsumu comes back into the room with a single condom.
“I only have one left - fuck ,” he groans at the sight of Kiyoomi naked on his bed. “Yer really makin’ me wish I bought more of these. Christ Omi.”
Kiyoomi almost wishes he kept on his underwear now that his body is being preyed upon by Atsumu. Maybe the flush wouldn’t go all the way down his body then and his slick wouldn’t be dripping onto his bedsheets. “What if it breaks?”
“I don’t hafta use my dick to make ya feel good, Omi.”
“Oh.” He pulls his knees together, the butterflies in his stomach taking flight. “Right.”
“Ya sure ya wanna do this?” Kiyoomi nods. “I need ya to say it out loud.”
“I want this, Atsumu.” Then, because he’s nervous and has no control over what he says, he adds, “please big brother.”
The silence is deafening as they stare at each other. Atsumu, quiet for more than Kiyoomi’s comfortable with, finally clears his throat. “Final rule and the most important of them all: don’t ever fuckin’ say that shit again.”
“Oh, now you don’t like it.”
“Read the room, Kiyoomi!” Atsumu visibly shudders as he walks to him. “In what world do ya think I want ya to start sayin’ that now?”
“I got nervous!” Kiyoomi argues. “I thought it would be funny.”
“It was disgustin’ is what it was.” He settles at the end of the bed and sets the condom on the window sill. “And - ya know what, nevermind. Spread yer legs,” he says and taps at Kiyoomi’s knees who hesitates for only a second and it’s enough for Atsumu to remember who he’s working with. Even as Kiyoomi opens his legs to Atsumu, he watches as the alpha reels himself in. “I’m gonna eat ya out now, ‘kay?”
Kiyoomi throws his head back into his pillow with a groan, Atsumu’s words lighting a fire that quickly spreads through his body. “You can’t just say that.”
Atsumu grins, showing off his canines, but he’s still looking at Kiyoomi’s glistening cunt, a hover hand waiting for Kiyoomi to object. “Tell me if ya want me to stop, otherwise I ain’t comin’ up.” He nestles himself between Kiyoomi’s knees, guiding them over his shoulder so he can get closer. Kiyoomi feels nervous or excited, he isn’t quite sure. It’s the first time anyone has gotten so close to his pussy and he’s not sure what it will feel like. The omegas in porn always look like they enjoy it, so Kiyoomi should too, right?
He doesn’t get to think much longer about it when Atsumu’s hands touch his folds and gently spread him apart. Fire is burning his cheeks and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look down and see it. But he feels it shortly after, a light caress to his sensitive mound, just shy of his clit. Then Kiyoomi jolts as wet heat swallows his swollen bundle of nerves and his eyes shoot open.
“ Atsumu ,” he cries out, a hand grabbing onto his hair and keeping himself grounded. He didn’t think it would feel bad, but he definitely didn’t think it would feel that good either. Kiyoomi opens his legs wider, eager to feel it again. Atsumu laps up his slick, tongue swirling around and teasing Kiyoomi. He tries rutting against Atsumu’s face, wanting nothing more than to lose himself in the pleasure, but a hand moves around his thigh to rest on his stomach and hold him still.
Finally, after being torturously teased for hours (read: one minute), Atsumu flicks Kiyoomi’s clitoris with his tongue once, then another time before wrapping his lips around it and making Kiyoomi’s head spin. The feeling in his belly keeps growing, more and more as Atsumu sucks and plays with it. He knows he probably sounds pathetic considering every breath he takes sounds like a whine, but he can’t help it, not when his orgasm is approaching so quickly. It’s going to be so embarrassing if he comes this fast, barely having anything done to him.
“I’m gonna add a finger now, okay?”
“‘kay,” Kiyoomi chokes out, biting hard on his lip to keep from tipping over the edge. Atsumu slips just one finger inside of him to start, but Kiyoomi’s had heats before and he’s done things with himself during those times, obviously they didn’t feel as good as this. “You can add another,” he says, digging his heel into Atsumu’s back when he feels his finger squirm inside of him.
“Don’t wanna hurt ya.”
“You won’t.” Kiyoomi’s fit at last four of his own inside during one particularly brutal heat. “Please.”
Atsumu does as he asks and adds another one. It’s not a tight fit by any means, Kiyoomi is entirely too aroused to struggle to take two fingers, but it’s pleasant. When he starts scissoring his fingers, stretching the tight muscle, that’s when a loud moan escapes his chest. He keeps mouthing at Kiyoomi’s clit, using his tongue for something good this time, and curls his fingers inside. It sends pleasure to the tips of Kiyoomi’s toes, and he cries out, back arching and begging for more.
“I’m gonna-” he pants, throwing an arm over his face. “Fuck, Atsumu, I’m gonna come.” He wants to come with Atsumu, but that bastard has other plans and picks up his pace until Kiyoomi screams out and clenches hard around his fingers. He twitches, toes curling up, as Atsumu helps him through his orgasm, ministrations slowly coming to a stop only after Kiyoomi whines at the overstimulation.
He lets himself catch his breath before looking down at the sight by his cunt - Atsumu, grinning wide with a slick covered chin, two fingers still inside Kiyoomi. “I wanted to come with you.”
“Baby, ya wouldn’t have lasted long enough to come with me.” He laughs at Kiyoomi’s pout. “If I get one out of ya now, that means I can fuck ya longer.”
Kiyoomi’s face turns red and he turns away to hide it away in his pillow. “You’re so annoying.”
Atsumu barks out a laugh, hands sliding up Kiyoomi’s thigh to spread him wider. “Ya liked it a second ago. Really liked it if I was hearin’ ya correct. Atsumu yer so hot, Atsumu I never want ya to stop, Atsumu - “
“I didn’t say any of that!” Kiyoomi argues, turning back to Atsumu to glare.
“Didn’t hafta. Those screams spoke for themselves.” He flashes him another grin, just long enough for Kiyoomi to imagine those canines sinking deep into his -
Christ, pull it together Kiyoomi.
“Anyway, I’ll give ya a second, but I’ll still fuck ya if that’s what ya want.”
His muscles are still relaxing from his orgasm, but his hole twitches in interest, more slick spilling from it and trailing down his skin. “Yeah,” he breathes. Atsumu’s hands are soothing his sides, touching every inch of exposed skin they can reach. While he lets Kiyoomi recover, he crawls up to kiss him and all Kiyoomi can taste is his slick as Atsumu pushes his tongue into his mouth. He wraps his legs around Atsumu’s waist, pulling him closer and running his fingers through his hair. They’re just making out, but Kiyoomi’s getting antsy again, especially when Atsumu’s bulge brushes against his sensitive clit.
“I’m ready.” Kiyoomi whispers, leaning his head to the side so Atsumu can kiss his neck. “Atsumu, I’m ready.”
“Ya gotta be patient baby, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” He kisses down Kiyoomi’s neck, to his collarbone, his nipple, his stomach - down, down, down until he kisses Kiyoomi’s clit and pulls away to take off his boxers. Kiyoomi’s mouth drops at the sight of his cock, a very, very long and thick piece of Atsumu that he’s not quite sure will actually fit inside him.
“How the fuck-”
“Relax,” Atsumu says and strokes Kiyoomi’s inner thigh. “We’re gonna go slow. Yer gonna tell me if it hurts or if ya don’t like it. I’m gonna talk ya through it.” He lazily strokes his cock, spreading his pre-come over his length. “Okay?” Kiyoomi nods, then remembers Atsumu’s earlier request and verbalizes his agreement. He watches in awe as Atsumu somehow slips a condom over himself, surprised it doesn’t tear. “I’m gonna start now, okay?” He cups Kiyoomi’s waist with one hand and lines himself up with the other.
Just the tip has Kiyoomi’s stomach coiling with nerves. His mouth drops, body tensed as he feels his hole being penetrated. “Ya gotta relax, baby,” Atsumu says, his thumb brushing over the skin of his waist. “It’s gonna hurt if yer so tense. Take a deep breath.”
Kiyoomi tries to relax, closing his eyes and focusing on complete serenity, but he instantly tenses back up when more of Atsumu spreads him open, feeling like he’ll tear in two.
“Omi-”
“I’m sorry,” Kiyoomi starts, taking another deep breath.
“We don’t have to do this tonight.”
He quickly shakes his head and opens his eyes again. “I want to, and you’re almost all the way inside me anyway.” He sees Atsumu’s eyes flick down to where they’re connected, then back up to Kiyoomi.
“ . . . sure.” Kiyoomi groans and covers his face with an arm, but Atsumu’s hand takes his and pulls it away. “I wanna see yer face as ya take me.” He intertwines their fingers and holds Kiyoomi’s arm above his head. “Yer doin’ great. Another deep breath.”
Kiyoomi nods, ignoring just how hot his face feels. He takes another deep breath and keeps breathing as Atsumu continues to move. He knows Atsumu told him to let him know if it hurts, and it does but in a good way? Maybe Kiyoomi’s more of a masochist than he thought. He’s being slowly impaled on Atsumu’s cock and he loves the feeling even if his insides are burning.
Atsumu keeps eye contact with him the entire time, a slight flush to his cheeks and it makes Kiyoomi wonder how much he’s holding back. Atsumu’s other hand rests just above his mound, his thumb reaching down to tease Kiyoomi’s clit to help keep him loose. “Atta boy,” Atsumu says breathlessly when he finally bottoms out. Kiyoomi feels so full it’s like he’ll burst, and when he looks down to his stomach, there’s a faint outline of Atsumu’s cock buried deep inside him. “Tell me when yer okay with me movin’.”
It’s hard to breath while being stuffed this full, Kiyoomi can’t imagine what it’ll be like when he actually starts fucking him. He takes another deep breath and nods. “Okay.”
“Ya sure?”
“Yes. Please move.”
Slowly, Atsumu pulls out almost entirely, then slips back in, forcing Kiyoomi to take his entire length again. The stretch, now that Kiyoomi’s body has adjusted, is divine and he whimpers when he feels Atsumu bottom out again. He clenches around Atsumu’s length and lets out a breathy moan at the feeling. It causes Atsumu to freeze, he doesn’t even try to move inside Kiyoomi again.
“Atsumu?” Kiyoomi asks, looking down to see what’s wrong.
“Don’t - “ Atsumu rasps out, face pinched. “Shh.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Baby,” he starts, taking a deep breath, “don’t do that again.”
Dread fills Kiyoomi’s chest. He didn’t mean to hurt him, he just wanted to feel how full he was. “Are you okay?”
Atsumu quickly shakes his head, a ragged breath escaping his lips. “Shit,” he curses and rests a hand on the window. “ Shit , I almost came just then. Omi, don’t do that again or else I’m gonna come and we’re both gonna be disappointed.”
Kiyoomi feels a smug grin spread across his lips, half tempted to try it again just to see Atsumu squirm. It feels good to affect him just as much as he’s affected Kiyoomi. “You can move again.”
Atsumu throws a glare in his direction and thrusts into Kiyoomi so hard he hits his head on the wall. “I’m doin’ us both a favor.”
He continues to move, pressing into Kiyoomi slowly at first, then picking up the pace once they’re both desperate enough. It feels good to take him so easily, to feel his length push back in and feel his head tickle his cervix. Each time sends a tingle through Kiyoomi’s body, begging for more. He can see now why Atsumu made him come once already, he doesn’t think he’d last much longer if it weren’t for his earlier orgasm.
It starts to feel really good when Atsumu starts playing with his clit again, rubbing it in tandem with his thrusts. It’s not long before Kiyoomi turns into a moaning mess, one leg hooking around Atsumu’s waist to guide him deeper while his fingernails scratch at the arm that’s by his head. “ Fuck ,” he whines, letting his instinct guide him into rolling his hips to meet Atsumu’s thrust. He’s getting deeper now, his head brushing against Kiyoomi’s cervix and adding to the fire that’s growing in the deepest part of him. “Right there, fuck Atsumu .”
Atsumu picks up his pace, fucking into Kiyoomi with enough vigor that it won’t be long now. He leans forward, crashing their lips together, and as much as Kiyoomi tries to focus on the kiss, his jaw slacks at the intense pleasure building inside him, unable to do anything except whine and claw at Atsumu’s back.
“Don’t tense up,” Atsumu grunts in his ear. His heavy breaths tickle Kiyoomi’s neck as he presses another kiss to his gland. “Let yerself go, it’s gonna feel good, I promise.”
Kiyoomi does as he says, loosening his muscles and letting Atsumu fuck him how he wants. He lets out a long breath, staccatoed by Atsumu’s rough tempo. The fire in him grows, more and more until it bursts and Kiyoomi feels like he floats to heaven as he tips over the edge and has the most intense orgasm he’s ever felt in his life. His eyes roll back, letting the ecstasy wash over him and touch every nerve in his body. Atsumu works him through it, rubbing his clit and keeping his steady even until Kiyoomi comes back down.
“ Atsumu ,” Kiyoomi breathes out, feeling like he can’t get enough air in his lungs, head head is still swimming. If he thought his earlier orgasm from Atsumu eating him out was good, this cannot even compare. His hazy mind doesn’t even have a word for it yet.
Only after he’s finally able to form a coherent thought does he realize Atsumu’s come, too. His rhythm stutters as he rides out the last bit of his, warm come pooling in the condom. “Shit, Omi,” he says, dead weight on Kiyoomi’s chest. “Yer like a fuckin’ dream.”
Kiyoomi smoothes his scruff, kissing Atsumu’s damp forehead. “Thank you, Atsumu.”
Atsumu huffs out a laugh. “For what?”
Kiyoomi shrugs and lets him pull back so they can look into each other’s eyes. “For everything.”
Atsumu’s smile softens and he leans down to kiss Kiyoomi one more time, much more delicate than the ones they shared earlier. “Yer gonna be the death of me, Omi.” He kisses his cheek and slips out of Kiyoomi to lie next to him, lifting his arm so Kiyoomi can curl up beside him. “We’re gonna have to get a lot more condoms if we wanna survive this week.”
Now that Kiyoomi knows what it feels like, he can’t keep his hands off of Atsumu. Their time alone is spent trying everything they can on every surface. If they’re too lazy for sex, Kiyoomi lets Atsumu eat him out on the couch - a favorite pastime of Kiyoomi especially when they’re watching a game and Atsumu sees Wakatoshi on the screen. He almost turns feral, nipping and sucking bruises into Kiyoomi’s skin before he pins him down and feasts on his cunt until Kiyoomi’s throat is sore from screaming.
He tried giving Atsumu head in the shower and nearly waterboarded himself, so he nixed any other attempts at shower sex until he got confident again. Atsumu did guide him through a different blow job, this time in the kitchen when they were getting a midnight snack. Kiyoomi isn’t sure he likes blow jobs, his mouth is too small, the semen tastes too gross - but he knows it drives Atsumu crazy and that he does like.
If they’re not fucking or doing some weird kinky shit (like the time Kiyoomi finally sat on Atsumu’s face after hearing him beg for it for three hours), they’re just cuddling and making out. It’s . . . foreign to Kiyoomi, who only ever knew a relationship as transactional. The feeling of being wanted, desired, . . . loved even, it’s odd to him, but not in a bad way. He craves it, loves waking up next to Atsumu holding him against his chest protectively.
It’s why he doesn’t feel dread the morning he wakes up and feels hot and achy all over, his heat finally arriving.
“I’ve never been with an omega in heat,” Atsumu says, hands on Kiyoomi’s hips as he helps guide him. “It’s kinda fun to see ya so desperate.”
Kiyoomi tries to glare, but he’s so lost in the feeling of being full, he doesn’t care anymore. He’s got an alpha’s cock buried deep inside him while he rides Atsumu to their shared completion. He’s used a vibrator before during his heats, but they were just enough to stave off the cramps and desperation long enough for him to go back to sleep. Having an alpha is a much more enjoyable experience. Every sensation is more intense than before, he takes Atsumu with ease because of his slick and loose hole. Atsumu’s kisses burn his skin, his tongue sends sparks across every nerve in his body. Once Atsumu knots him, he’ll be the most satisfied he’s been in a while.
Kiyoomi can feel the base of Atsumu’s cock starting to swell, a delicious sensation as he feels his pussy stretch around it. Kiyoomi runs a hand up his chest, cupping his slightly swollen breasts as he picks up his pace. “Shit baby,” Atsumu groans, the grip on his hips tightening and threatening to leave a bruise. “Take everythin’ ya need. I’m yers.”
He moans at the sound of Atsumu’s words, getting so lost in the pleasure of his heat that his hips move faster, pulling a groan from Atsumu. “Want your knot,” he mewls, growing breathy as he chases his release. He slips one of his hands between their bodies, toying with his clit and trying to replicate what Atsumu does to it that feels so damn good. “Atsu-”
“Wait, Omi-” Atsumu tries, but Kiyoomi’s having none of it. “Baby, stop for a second.” But Atsumu’s voice is so far away from him, all he can think about is how good the stretch feels, how full he is from Atsumu’s cock. “Omi, the condom - shit , baby the condom br-”
Kiyoomi cries out as something snaps inside him and he takes Atsumu’s full knot, locking the two of them together. His vision goes blurry, grinding Atsumu’s head against his cervix while he rubs his clit and comes so hard he nearly blacks out. If he weren’t so lost in pleasure, he might’ve thought it was weird that he can feel Atsumu’s hot come spilling inside him and painting his walls. But he doesn’t and he falls forward onto Atsumu’s heaving chest, purring loudly as he nuzzles up against the scent gland on his neck.
“Omi,” Atsumu breathes, rubbing his lower back softly. “Baby why didn’t ya stop?”
“Felt good,” he murmurs, kissing Atsumu’s neck. “Wanted your knot.”
“The condom broke, Omi.”
His omega is preening too loudly for him to care. Knotted, full of alpha’s come - this is the happiest he’s ever been. “So?”
“‘ So ’? Baby,” Atsumu says again, trying to urge Kiyoomi away. It’s useless, he’d crawl into Atsumu’s skin if he could. They’re connected now and they will be for the next 30 minutes until Atsumu’s knot deflates. “Omi, I knotted you. Christ, tryin’ to talk sense to a bitch in heat is impossible.” He sighs, smoothing Kiyoomi’s curls. “We can’t take a nap after like we usually do.”
“Why?” Kiyoomi asks, brows furrowing in irritation. All he wants is to stay next to alpha, keep alpha in his nest, pleasure alpha. “Wanna sleep with you inside me.”
“We can’t Omi. We gotta go to the pharmacy and get a pill before they close.”
Kiyoomi whines like a petulant child, digging his fingernails into Atsumu’s chest to keep him from moving. “Don’t wanna.”
“Kiyoomi,” Atsumu tries, tugging his hair gently to get him to look at him. When he finally leans back with a huff, Atsumu brushes a curl behind his ear. “Yer gonna freak out in a second when ya start to get yer senses again.”
And true to his word, as Kiyoomi’s heat slowly starts to recede, reality settles in and his eyes widen as he realizes what happened. “Atsumu,” he starts, trying to get off of him and hissing when his knot tugs at their connection. “Atsumu, fuck .”
Atsumu sighs and pulls Kiyoomi’s hands to his chest. “Take a breath, everything’s gonna be okay.”
“Atsumu, the condom broke ,” he parrots, having the same conversation from earlier again so he can really freak out this time. “I can’t get pregnant, Atsumu - I don’t wanna-”
“Baby,” Atsumu says and cups Kiyoomi’s cheek. “It’s okay, we’re gonna figure it out.” Something about his voice and the calming scent he’s releasing convinces Kiyoomi enough to settle until his knot deflates.
“Please, you don’t understand,” Kiyoomi begs, putting his hands together in desperation and praying the pharmacy technician will understand just how needed this contraceptive pill is. Kiyoomi has plans, he has dreams - a pup at 17 is not either of them. “I’ll give you money, I can-”
“I’m sorry, but without a guardian’s signature, I can’t sell this to you,” the pharmacist says, not sounding apologetic at all. In fact, Kiyoomi swears she’s judging him. “If you come back with your parent, I can sell it to you then.” Kiyoomi throws his head into his hands. He knows these pills can work up to three days after, but the issue still remains that he needs either his dad or Atsumu’s mom to sign off and that is not a conversation he wants to have.
“Kiyoomi-kun?” a dreadfully familiar voice asks, the blood in his veins turning icy. Ushijima Wakatoshi stands before him when he looks up, holding some salonpas and an energy drink. The vengeful part of him notices the faded bruise on his jaw where Kiyoomi punched him. “What are you doing here?”
The better question is why is Wakatoshi here? They’re in Kiyoomi’s side of the city, a place Kiyoomi used to have to pull teeth just to get him to visit. He doesn’t let himself get caught up with questions and bitterness because an idea sparks in his head. “I’m trying to buy something, but my father is out of town on his business trip, and I’m unable to purchase it while underage.”
“I see.”
“Would you -”
Wakatoshi nods and Kiyoomi almost feels bad for taking advantage of him like this if not for all the shit he was put through during the relationship. Wakatoshi shuffles some of his items around and pulls his wallet out from his pocket. “I will buy it for him,” he says, sliding his ID card across the counter.
“You can’t buy it for him,” the pharmacist counters just to be difficult. She crosses her arms and arches an eyebrow at Kiyoomi. “He needs a guardian signature or approval.”
“Then I’m purchasing it for myself.”
“You’d like to buy a contraceptive pill for yourself?”
Silence settles between the three of them and even though Kiyoomi knows they’re both looking at him, he refuses to lift his gaze from the floor.
“ . . . Yes. A contraceptive pill for myself.”
The pharmacist lets out a sigh of irritation and continues the transaction, stuffing the box in a bag and sliding it across to Wakatoshi. “You should make sure to read the back for side effects,” she says and then eyes Kiyoomi. “And use other forms of protection.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Wakatoshi says and thanks her as he steps away from the counter with Kiyoomi. He leads them to a different aisle and hands it to him like a disappointed father. Kiyoomi sees the way his eyes flicker to his neck and collarbone, the love bites and bruises littering his skin. “You should buy some other, ahem, protection as well.”
Atsumu’s already on that, though Kiyoomi is wondering how hard it is to pick out a more durable condom. “Thanks,” he says awkwardly, tucking the bag away into his backpack. “I’ll, uh, I’ll make sure to get some.”
Wakatoshi shifts awkwardly from side to side. It’s the first time they’ve spoken since their break up, and Kiyoomi definitely did not think this is how it would go. “How have you been?”
Kiyoomi scoffs. “Now you care?”
“I just-”
He doesn’t get to defend himself before Atsumu turns the corner, waving two boxes of condoms in the air. “Do ya want - oh.” He stops beside Kiyoomi, hands dropping to his sides. “Ushijima.”
Wakatoshi’s jaw tightens at the sight of Atsumu and any cordiality erases completely as he looks between the two. “Miya.” Kiyoomi knows he’s judging him if he wasn’t already before. It’s not enough that Kiyoomi moved on so quickly, giving up something that he’d never given Wakatoshi, and giving it to Miya Atsumu. He already knows Wakatoshi is trying to piece together their relationship, wondering if Kiyoomi’s father broke up with Atsumu’s mother, or if this is a forbidden relationship. Kioomi doesn’t care, he doesn’t give a damn what Wakatoshi figures out or thinks.
“Didn’t think I’d ever see ya around here,” Atsumu says, stepping in front of Kiyoomi. “Heard ya hate it on this side of the city.”
Wakatoshi narrows his eyes, doing his best to keep his composure. “Yes, well it’s the only pharmacy that carries this brand.” His clears his throat and his eyes flick back to Kiyoomi. “Maybe I will see you around, Kiyoomi-kun.”
Kiyoomi avoids looking at him, eyes falling to Atsumu’s hands which grip the boxes of condoms so tightly it bends the cardboard. He only looks back up when Atsumu turns around with a huff of irritation.
“What a fuckin’ prick,” he hisses, rolling his shoulders. “Can’t wait to kick his ass on the court next year.”
“Did you pick a brand?” Kiyoomi asks, clearing his throat and tugging at the strap of his bag.
“Yeah. Well, two brands. I don’t wanna risk it. Did ya get the pill?” Kiyoomi nods and points to his bag. Atsumu grins at him and kisses his cheek. “Let’s go home and try these ones out.”
“I’m gonna sign with the Jackals,” Atsumu says just as Kiyoomi’s about to fall asleep. They only fucked once before Kiyoomi’s headache set in from the pill and his stomach was too upset to do anything besides curl up into Atsumu’s arms. It feels like a waste of their last night considering Osamu is coming home tomorrow afternoon and they won’t be able to have sex anytime they want anymore.
“You should” Kiyoomi whispers, tucking his face farther into Atsumu’s neck and inhaling his scent. “You’d be good for them.”
“I just -” He sighs, running his fingers through Kiyoomi’s curls. “I don’t wanna be so far from everyone. Aran’s in Yokohama, Samu’s looking at restaurants up here to work at, and . . . you-”
Something flutters in Kiyoomi’s chest at the thought of being so important to Atsumu that he doesn’t want to move away. “I don’t know where I’m going to university yet,” Kiyoomi says, smoothing his thumb over Atsumu’s skin. “It doesn’t have to be in Tokyo.”
“Ya shouldn’t move just ‘cause of me Omi,” Atsumu chides with a laugh. “Ya gotta pick one yer actually gonna like.”
There was a time when Kiyoomi couldn’t wait for Atsumu to move out of Tokyo and go back south. Now, the thought of separating from him churns his stomach. He doesn’t know if it’s some kind of trauma bond, some stupid teen love (if you can call these last few days that), but . . . “I’m gonna say something stupid, so don’t laugh.”
Atsumu’s already laughs and jolts as Kiyoomi pinches him. “Ow, okay okay, no laughing starting now.”
Kiyoomi huffs and pushes himself up on his elbow. “I -” It’s going to sound so ridiculous. Five weeks ago he was bickering with Atsumu over a math problem, now he’s so . . . so . . . in love with him? At least he thinks this is love, he’s never really experienced it before. He did what he thought was the right thing to do with Wakatoshi, now he’s just acting off of instinct alone. “I’d follow you anywhere, Atsumu.”
Atsumu grins. “Almost sounds like yer in love with me or somethin’,” he jokes.
Kiyoomi swallows hard, eyes flicking down to the bruise he’d left on Atsumu’s neck yesterday. “Would that be so crazy?”
The light circles Atsumu had been tracing on his arm pause and Kiyoomi feels him still. “What?”
“You’re right, it is crazy,” Kiyoomi says quickly, starting to untangle himself from Atsumu, but a hand catches his wrist and pulls him right back down.
“Baby.” The pet names are the worst part of this thing between them and just how quickly they make Kiyoomi’s insides turn to mush. He refuses to look at Atsumu, but he catches the glint of his sharp canines from the corner of his eye. “Are ya sayin’ ya love me?”
“No,” Kiyoomi quickly defends, backtracking. “I actually hate you.”
Atsumu throws his head back in a laugh and wraps Kiyoomi up in his arms, holding him tightly until the fight in Kiyoomi dies. He rolls on top and grins down at him. “I’m gonna say somethin’ crazy, but I love ya too.” Kiyoomi blushes and tries to hide his face, but Atsumu catches his chin and leans down to kiss him. “Anyway,” he says as he pulls away, releasing Kiyoomi from his grip. “Wanna fuck again before we gotta sneak around tomorrow?”
And who is Kiyoomi to resist?
Atsumu slips his hand into Kiyoomi’s while they walk back from the convenience store. They’ve done okay so far with Osamu home, if only because he’s a heavy sleeper at night and spends most of the day out with his friends. Kiyoomi doesn’t know what it will be like once their parents get back tonight from their trip. Will they have to sneak out of the house together just to be able to touch? Will they be caught just because Kiyoomi can’t stop staring at Atsumu? He doesn’t want to think about the consequences if they’re found out.
He looks over at Atsumu now as he licks the quickly melting ice cream before it can create a disaster on his hand. Now that they can’t stay indoors and mess around all day, they’ve been going outside more even if it’s to sit on the hill beside the river and make out. Atsumu’s skin has gotten tanner, the freckles on his face beginning to appear like the sun has kissed his face a hundred times.
“Damn,” Atsumu says as some ice cream melts onto his hand. “Babe, did ya grab napkins?”
Kiyoomi already has one in his hand, ready to wipe up the mess he’s creating. “I told you not to eat it until we got back.”
“It would melt either way,” Atsumu defends, quickly licking circles around the cone to catch any stray droplets.
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, adoration swelling in his chest and making him sick just thinking about what will happen between them. “Atsumu,” he starts.
“I know, it’s all over my mouth.” That was not what Kiyoomi was going to say, but now that he hears it, Atsumu does have some ice cream smeared over his chin. He licks his thumb and tries to wipe a stray droplet from his cheek.
“What’s going to happen?”
“What’s it look like, it’s gonna melt.”
“Not about the ice cream.”
Atsumu quickly takes the treat into his mouth and takes a bite of it, shivering as he swallows the ice cream whole. “What are ya sayin’?” he asks, now only having to worry about the cone. “ What’s gonna happen when?”
“When our parents get home.”
Atsumu shrugs, not nearly as worried as Kiyoomi with his dauntless personality. “We’ll do what we’ve been doin’ with Samu.”
“And then? We can’t sneak around forever.”
Atsumu eyes him, realizing this is a much heavier conversation than he’s ready to have with a half eaten ice cream cone in his hand. He stops walking and finishes the cone in three bites, wincing as he swallows and accepting the napkins Kiyoomi offers him. “I don’t know, Omi.” Except Atsumu always has a plan, and for once, it’s unsettling to see him without one. “Try to break them up I guess?”
Kiyoomi hates that idea. His dad is so happy with Kotomi, and he knows Atsumu is glad to see his mom with someone who isn’t a complete deadbeat. “What if we tell them?”
“About us?” Kiyoomi nods. “Well,” he starts with a sigh, “they’ll probably ground us until we’re 80. Give us a lecture on how we shouldn’t be doing what we’re doing, make us break up.” He shrugs. “I don’t really know, Omi.”
Kiyoomi chews on his bottom lip, hating everything about this. He just wants to be with Atsumu without having to hide. He wants to love him in public, wants to show him off to the world. “Maybe they would understand.”
Atsumu laughs sardonically. “My mom? Doubt it. She’ll give me an earful and send me off to boarding school probably.” He reaches for Kiyoomi’s hand again and brings it to his lips, and Kiyoomi knows he’s so in love with Atsumu because the sticky ice cream doesn’t bother him. “We’ll figure somethin’ out, Omi.”
“But how?”
“I don’t know!” Atsumu exclaims. “I want to tell ya everythin’s gonna be okay, but I know it ain’t! And I know it was so stupid of us to fall in love, but I’d do it every time because, fuck Omi. I really fuckin’ love ya and I don’t wanna lose ya. But my mom,” he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “My mom hasn’t been this happy in a long time, and I don’t wanna be just another alpha to fuck that up for her.” He lifts up the collar of his shirt to wipe his chin, exposing a sliver of skin that Kiyoomi’s eyes catch on. “Let’s just wait, okay? Ride it out, see what happens. My mom texted me yesterday and it sounded like she was pissed off at yer dad about somethin’. Maybe they’ll break up on their own and this vacation showed them they don’t actually like each other.”
Kiyoomi sniffles, cursing himself for tearing up at this. He just wishes he and Atsumu were different people, not in a shitty situation like this so they could be with each other without shame. He wishes they had more time to think of a plan. “Okay,” he whispers, wiping his eyes with the back of his wrist.
“Baby, please don’t cry,” Atsumu says, moving towards him. “Yer breakin’ my heart. I wish I had a better answer for us ‘cause I love ya so damn much, but-” he wipes away Kiyoomi’s tears and kisses his forehead. “This is the best we got, okay? We’ll find ways to sneak around, it’s not like I’m gonna be able to forget ya.”
Their parents bring dinner home with them and request everyone eat at the dining room so they can all catch up on their summer adventures. Thankfully, Atsumu answers for the two of them so Kiyoomi doesn’t have to bumble through a lie. He keeps it short, relaying that they mostly spent it practicing volleyball and watching movies. It’s not entirely a lie, it’s just not what made up 90% of their day.
She asks Osamu next, pulling every detail about Hyogo and their old neighborhood that she can to relive their old lives. Osamu tells her their granny neighbor is still there and expecting a great grandchild any day now. Suna’s captain of Inarizaki and he’s going to be signing with the Raijins after graduation (which Atsumu scoffs at).
“Okinawa was lovely,” she starts once it’s their turn. “While Daigo was at his conference, I explored the island. Osamu, ya would’ve loved the food. The seafood restaurant we ate at the first night was to die for.”
Kiyoomi’s dad clears his throat, reeling in his girlfriend and putting a hand over hers. “Honey,” he starts, “do you want to say it now?”
Kotomi smiles kindly at him. “Right, right.” She clasps her hands around his and turns to the three of them. Dread settles in the pit of Kiyoomi’s stomach, fear of what she’ll say next. “Daigo and I are going to get married.”
She rambles on about rebonding and the technicalities of an old mark, but Kiyoomi can’t hear any of it. Only the deafening ringing of her news of their engagement. An engagement that means Kiyoomi and Atsumu will never get to be together.
“Kiyoomi,” his father says, snapping him back to reality and away from his spiral. “Are you alright? You look ill.”
He chances a glance at Atsumu whose bronzed face has gone pale. He quickly looks away, not able to stomach the thought of their current reality. “I’m just a little tired,” Kiyoomi says, pushing his near untouched plate forward. “Congratulations, but if you’ll excuse me I think I’ll turn in for the night.”
It’s nearly midnight when there’s a faint knock on his door, almost mistakable for the house settling. He knows it’s Atsumu, he doesn’t even have to tell him to come in before the door is carefully opening and closing behind him.
The second Kiyoomi got back to his room, he hid under his blanket and cried into his pillow, asking the universe what the fuck was wrong with him that he couldn’t find happiness. First it was Wakatoshi and his bullshit, now it’s finding the right person at the wrong time. He knows his face is swollen and eyes bloodshot as he makes space for Atsumu in his bed.
“Ya okay?” he whispers, tucking Kiyoomi’s hair behind his ear.
“No,” he answers truthfully, nestling closer to Atsumu. He takes a deep inhale of Atsumu’s scent, committing it to memory now that he knows he won’t have it for much longer. “Why can’t I just be happy?”
Atsumu kisses his forehead, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “I know, Omi.”
“I love you so much, and it’s just not fair.”
Another kiss. “I think we’re just gonna hafta be secretly in love and leave it at that.”
But Kiyoomi doesn’t want to be secretly in love. He wants a family with Atsumu, a life with Atsumu. He wants more than secret kisses and quiet whispers in bed after everyone’s gone to sleep. New tears well in his eyes and he digs his fingertips into Atumu’s skin. “I’m going to move to Osaka with you.”
“Baby-”
“And we’ll live in an apartment together. We’ll be different people - you’ll be Miya Atsumu, starting setter for the Jackals, and I’ll be Miya Kiyoomi, top of his class in university. We won’t be the same people as we are in Tokyo, we’ll be a young couple in love, taking on a new city together.”
Atsumu laughs softly. “Yer gonna take my last name?”
“Of course. I just want to be yours.”
Something has felt off about him the last few weeks, he just hasn’t been able to place it. He doesn’t know if it’s still the dread of their parents getting married, or maybe just the anxiety of entrance exams and graduation, not to mention volleyball tournaments right around the corner.
Still, in the back of his mind he panics about the condom breaking during his heat. He knows he took the pill, the headache and nausea that came with it wouldn’t let him forget that. But Kiyoomi overthinks the small stuff and that includes the warning that a contraceptive pill is only 80% successful in stopping a pregnancy. He read that box front to back at least seven times before Atsumu had urged him to hurry up and swallow the pill.
He doesn’t want to be pregnant right now, not with so many important things happening in his life so soon. Then again, a selfish part of him hopes he is so he can tell his father and Kotomi and force them to cancel the engagement.
“I have to stop at the pharmacy before we go home,” Kiyoomi tells Atsumu after practice. Osamu’s already gone ahead without them, not bothering to wait for the two of them. That’s one of Atsumu’s plans to get Kiyoomi alone since he knows his brother has no patience. The longer they take changing after practice, the faster Osamu will ditch them to go home.
“We got enough condoms,” Atsumu says, holding Kiyoomi’s bag while he waits for him to tie his shoes. “And after Osamu almost caught us in the living room the other day, he’s been suspicious of everythin’ we do. We gotta be quiet for a little.” He looks around, noting that everyone else has gone home. “Unless ya wanna fuck in here before we head back.”
Kiyoomi shakes his head. He’s got too much on his mind to have sex with Atsumu, especially in such a public place. Who knows what would happen or who would walk in. “I gotta buy something else.”
“Like what?” God he’s persistent. Kiyoomi loves the attention, but can do without the interrogation some days.
With a huff, Kiyoomi finishes tying his shoes and stands, dusting off his shorts. “A pregnancy test.”
“Yeah right, ya already took the pill. C’mon, take yer bag.”
“I’m being serious. Your condom broke during my heat.”
“Omi,” Atsumu says, holding open the locker room door for Kiyoomi, “that’s what the pill was for. Ya read that box way more than I did, ya know everything that it said.”
“I did,” Kiyoomi confirms, letting Atsumu intertwine their hands, “and it said it’s only 80% effective.”
“That’s a big percentage.”
“It’s not big enough.”
With a sigh, Atsumu relents. “Alright, we can stop by just so it gives ya some peace of mind.”
They go to the pharmacy and Kiyoomi buys two tests just to be safe and brings them with him into the bathroom to take them there. He brings Atsumu in too for support and also because he’s too afraid that the mean pharmacist will be there and see them again.
Atsumu, an endless box of chatter, keeps the air full of random stories while Kiyoomi pees on both sticks. Kiyoomi isn’t sure if it’s nerves, or if he can sense just how anxious Kiyoomi is and he knows that his voice will calm him down. Whatever the reason, it keeps Kiyoomi sane as he places both tests on the sink and stands back, waiting for them to process.
“They’re gonna be negative,” Atsumu tells him, kissing the hollow of his ear. “I told ya, I ain’t ever knocked someone up before.”
“I’ve just been feeling off this last week,” Kiyoomi tells him, sighing and leaning his head back onto Atsumu’s shoulder. “Like there’s something wrong with me.”
“It’s just yer nerves, baby.” He rubs soothing circles into Kiyoomi’s hips, swaying them back and forth. “Ya got a lot of stuff riding on these next few months.” Kiyoomi hopes he’s right. As much as he’d love to carry Atsumu’s pup, he’d like it to be in a few years when he’s gotten his life sorted.
The timer on his phone goes off and Kiyoomi turns his back to the sink. “I can’t look,” he tells him. “You go and see.”
Atsumu lets out a short laugh, kissing Kiyoomi’s cheek and moves around him to check on the results. “We’re gonna laugh about this tonight,” he tells him. “Kinda like that . . .” Atsumu trails off, going eerily silent and leaving Kiyoomi unsettled.
“Atsumu?” he asks. “What does it say?” No response. His heart starts hammering in his chest as he turns around slowly and catches Atsumu’s reaction in the mirror. His mouth is open, the permanent flush to his cheeks completely gone as he stares down at the two tests in his hand. “Stop messing around,” Kiyoomi scolds weakly, taking unsteady steps towards him. “What does it say?” All Atsumu does is pass him one of the tests where pregnant flashes back at him.
They waited for the weekend before they told their parents, giving themselves a few days to collect themselves and come up with the best way to confess. Kiyoomi would have preferred to never tell them, but unfortunately this problem wasn’t going to go away, and terminating the pregnancy required a guardian’s presence (something Kiyoomi thinks Wakatoshi won’t be able to help him bypass this time).
Kiyoomi has seen his father yell until he was blue in the face, but he’s never seen him sit so silently in the purest form of rage he can imagine. Kotomi on the other hand wouldn’t stop yelling, and by the time she finally finished berating them on how wrong and irresponsible they were, her voice was beginning to grow hoarse.
Atsumu sat beside him the whole time, finally able to hold his hand in front of their family now that they told the truth. When they were finally given a chance to speak after asking just what the fuck were they thinking , Atsumu responded easily with, “we’re in love with each other.”
Kiyoomi should feel guilty that it’s been an hour since they were sent upstairs and he can still hear their parents arguing, but then again, he’s been praying for their break up ever since they announced they were dating all those months ago. He leans his head on Atsumu’s shoulder, playing with his fingers while they both listen in on the argument.
“Do ya think they’ll call off the engagement now?” Atsumu asks, gently bumping his head against Kiyoomi’s.
“Is it wrong of me to hope they will?”
“Nah, I’m hopin’ the same thing.”
Kiyoomi sighs. “What if they make up? And they force me to have an abortion?”
“I don’t know, Omi. I mean, shouldn’t ya get one? Ya said ya didn’t want a pup until yer older.”
“I don’t,” he confirms, turning to nuzzle into Atsumu’s neck. “But I want to have your pup.”
“I’ll give ya one in a few years if ya still want it.”
Kiyoomi shakes his head. “What if they make it through this and force us apart? I don’t want to risk losing you.” He rests a hand on his stomach, rubbing gently. “Do you think that’s wrong?”
Atsumu lets out a long exhale, taking Kiyoomi’s hand and kissing his knuckles. “I feel the same way, Omi. I want nothin’ more than to see ya with my pup.”
“ But ?”
“It’s just . . . I don’t want ya to miss out on opportunities all ‘cause I told ya to keep it. I’d never forgive myself if yer talent went to waste just ‘cause I was selfish enough to ask ya to have my pup now.”
Kiyoomi’s mind has been considering his opportunities for the last few days. There hasn’t been a second that’s gone by that he hasn’t considered what to do and the different outcomes of each decision. If he goes through with the pregnancy, he can still finish out the season with the team and graduate. He’ll take his entrance exams, and start university a semester late. He wants to relay all of this to Atsumu, to promise him that he can continue his plans and have this pup. But all of this depends on the outcome of their parents’ relationship.
Kiyoomi doesn’t get to think more on it before someone’s knocking on Atsumu’s door and Osamu slips inside before either of them can answer. They separate quickly, Kiyoomi clearing his throat while Atsumu complains to his brother.
“The fuck did the two of ya do that’s got mom and Daigo so worked up?” he asks, ignoring Atsumu’s insults and taking a seat at his desk. “I get home, thinkin’ I’m gonna be greeted with dinner and instead get yelled at to go upstairs.” He still managed to nab a package of cookies on the way up.
Atsumu awkwardly scratches the back of his bed. “Y’know,” he starts, clearing his throat, “just normal shit.”
Osamu snorts, tossing a cookie in the air and catching it in his mouth. “Normal shit doesn’t have ma red in the face.” He shakes another cookie out, unable to read the tension in the air. “Seriously, what happened? Daigo’s talkin’ about holding off on the engagement.”
Guilt seeps into Kiyoomi’s stomach but not as quickly as optimism at hearing those words. “They are?”
Osamu seems to finally notice the two of them, narrowing his eyes. “Why do ya sound happy about that?” He looks between them. “Why are ya both actin’ so weird. Does everyone in this house know somethin’ besides me?” Then, as if he starts to piece everything together, his face changes and his chewing slows down. “Hold up.”
“Samu-”
“Are the two of ya - no, wait, I don’t wanna know what ya do. Just know I think it’s gross. And inconsiderate of our parents considerin’ they were gonna bond.” He shakes his head, throwing another cookie into his mouth. “Ya could sleep with any omega ya want, and ya picked Omi - no offense of course.”
“None taken,” Kiyoomi says quietly, pulling at the threads of his shirt.
He doesn’t quite understand why they have to hear another lecture from someone about their relationship, especially from Osamu who is the farthest thing from a moral compass. He eats cheese from a can, Kiyoomi cannot see himself taking Osamu’s words to truth.
“Yer lucky ya didn’t knock him up or anythin’ considerin’ his heat is soon. Again, no offense, but yer scent’s been off.”
“Yeah,” Atsumu says awkwardly. The air grows thick with unease while the three of them sit together and realization begins to dawn on Osamu’s face.
“No.”
“Look-”
“Are ya kiddin’ me?” He flings his hand out, a cookie falling out of the package and rolling across Atsumu’s desk. “What the fuck is wrong with the two of ya?”
“Mom’s already chewed my ear off about it, can ya just shut the hell up?”
“Tsumu, this is bad!” He throws his head into his hands, a reaction that makes no sense considering nothing that’s happening will affect him. “You swore to ma ya’d be on yer best behavior because she really likes Daigo, and yer screwin’ this up for her!”
“I can’t help who I fall in love with!” Atsumu snaps.
“Yer not in love, yer just horny.”
“Just ‘cause ya can’t admit that yer in love with Sunarin, don’t mean the rest of us gotta be miserable and single.”
“I am not in love with Rin,” Osamu scoffs. “‘sides, even if I was, at least I ain’t getting him pregnant like a fucking idiot.”
Atsumu stands up and walks to his door, yanking it open and glaring at his brother. “Get out of my room.”
There’s a tense standoff between the twins that leaves Kiyoomi curling into himself. There’s been entirely too much stress these last few days, Kiyoomi knows it can’t be good for him or the pup. Finally, Osamu stands, staring down Atsumu as he walks to the door. “Ya really fucked this up for us, Tsumu. Yer just another selfish alpha who ruined somethin’ good for ma.”
“ Out ,” Atsumu growls, a flash of his canines as warning.
Kiyoomi makes the mistake of looking up right as Osamu looks over his shoulder at him with a disapproving shake of his head. He knows he should feel guilty and awful about ruining his dad’s relationship, but it’s difficult to regret what he and Atsumu have done when it’s the first time in a while that Kiyoomi has actually felt cared for. He’s the youngest, an accident in an already matured family. His parents were too busy bickering with each other to pay attention to him, his brother and sister already grown and moving out of the house when Kiyoomi was just starting middle school. Even Wakatoshi didn’t truly care for him despite what he told Kiyoomi. He doesn’t care if he’s being selfish, not when it’s made him this happy.
Atsumu huffs as he slams the door after Osamu, making sure to lock the door, and stomps back over to Kiyoomi. He falls face first into his bed, narrowly avoiding kicking Kiyoomi as he lets out a long groan. “How come everyone thinks they’re better than us?” he grumbles into the pillow.
Kiyoomi scoots back and leans against the wall, pulling Atsumu’s legs onto his lap. “They just don’t understand.” Maybe they’ve never been this in love before. Kotomi had an awful relationship with the twins’ father, Kiyoomi’s parents never really liked each other. They think Atsumu and Kiyoomi are stupid teenagers because they just don’t get it. “They think we won’t last.”
Atsumu rolls onto his back and glares up at the ceiling. “Then we just gotta prove them wrong.”
One Year Later
“Baby!” Atsumu calls out from the kitchen. “Ya gotta leave now or else yer gonna be late for yer first day!”
Kiyoomi quickly stuffs his pump into his backpack along with a new shirt in case he doesn’t get to pump in time. He’s already ruined a few shirts from his leaking chest, he’s not going to have it happen on his first day. “Coming!” he shouts back, struggling to zip up the bag. He slings it over his shoulder and decides he’ll make Atsumu close it, and walks out of their bedroom to the kitchen. The apartment they rented is small, but it’s enough for them. It’s a short walk to the train station for Kiyoomi, and an even shorter commute to the gym for Atsumu. They don’t plan on expanding their family anytime soon so the size isn’t an issue for them.
Atsumu’s in the kitchen with Kyedae strapped to his chest while he finishes cooking Kiyoomi’s lunch. He turns around, a wide grin on his face when he sees Kiyoomi dressed in something other than sweats and baggy tees. “Shit Omi,” he says, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “Ya look hot.”
“It’s just a striped shirt.”
Atsumu shrugs, stuffing food containers into a bag. “Ya look hot in everythin’.”
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and hides his face as he feels a blush spread across his cheeks. “Do I need to pick up Kyedae from daycare, or will you be able to on your way home?”
Atsumu kisses the top of their daughter’s head, gently patting her back as she snores away in her sling. “I shouldn’t be too late tonight, I can get her. Yer probably gonna wanna memorize all the literature yer professors give ya today anyway.”
He’d like to be annoyed, but he knows that’s the truth. A few weeks after they told their parents about his pregnancy, Daigo and Kotomi decided to call off the engagement. It didn’t help that Kiyoomi was refusing to listen to reason when it came to his options, and it was a tense few months before Daigo and Kotomi spoke to them again.
In the end, their parents decided to split, a mutual break up because neither of them could admit that their child was in the wrong. Even if it was tense between the two, Kiyoomi’s dad still offered to find her a place in Tokyo like they originally planned, which was good for Kiyoomi considering he still got to see Atsumu everyday even if his room wasn’t right next to his anymore.
Kiyoomi’s stubbornness got him through the last few months even if his schedule was packed with doctor’s appointments, volleyball, and studying for entrance exams. But he was determined to prove to everyone that he could do it, and the day he graduated with a plan to attend a great university in Osaka was the day he could finally take a breath.
It helped that Atsumu signed with the Jackals and his first paycheck made their eyes bug out of their heads.
“We’re celebrating this weekend by the way,” Atsumu says as Kiyoomi finishes packing up the rest of his things.
“For what?” he asks, tongue poking out of his mouth as he tries fitting everything into his school bag. He needs to buy a new bag if he’s going to be bringing all of this with him to university everyday.
Atsumu helps him zip it up and takes Kiyoomi’s hand. “Because we proved them wrong.”
A grin slowly spreads over Kiyoomi’s face. “Yeah, we did.”
Atsumu kisses his knuckles. “And it kinda smells like yer gonna go into heat soon, so I’m gonna bond with ya. Shit, I can’t wait. I bet ya’ll look so hot with a bond mark, can’t wait for all yer classmates to know ya belong to me.”
Kiyoomi splutters, face growing hot. They’ve discussed bonding during Kiyoomi’s heat after Kyedae, but he’s been so busy preparing for classes and taking care of a newborn, it takes him by surprise. He didn’t even realize that his heat was so soon, all of his other symptoms were so similar to his every day ailments. But of course Atsumu picked up on the change in his scent, the alpha smells him every night like he’s addicted.
“You’re wearing two condoms this time,” Kiyoomi says. “I’m not having another accident like last time.”
Atsumu gapes at him, angling his body just slightly to show off how adorable their daughter is. “How can ya call her that? Just look at her.”
“Easy for you to say, you didn’t have to carry her for nine months and turn into a milk cow at her beck and call.” Not to mention Atsumu’s not-so-subtle attempts at trying to get a taste of Kiyoomi’s breast milk. He leans closer to his daughter and gives a kiss to her head, her black hair starting to curl.
He hears Atsumu mumble something under his breath that sounds kind of like but I had to deal with yer attitude , but when Kiyoomi looks up and glares at him, he grins and kisses Kiyoomi’s lips. “Good luck on yer first day. I love ya.”
Kiyoomi sighs and slings his backpack over his shoulder. “I love you, too.”
And he realizes then that they really did make it.