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Kiyoomi’s family was pretty traditional. Gender roles were highly enforced during his upbringing. They forced him to be the perfect little young man and he didn’t really question it at the time. The one time he did was when he was about eight; his sister was around eighteen at the time and he’s seen her colourful nails before, but never thought of how they got so colourful.
He was entering their living room when he saw her with two little bottles, one red and one clear. She was sitting on the floor, the bottles on the table as she watched one of her favourite shows. He walked closer and watched as she took the top of the red bottle off and started to apply the colour to her thumb nail. His eyes widened as he approached and watched curiously. He was mesmerized as her long nails were painted with a vibrant pigment.
“Oh. Hey Kiyo,” she greeted once she saw the boy loitering. His ears twitched, barely registering what she said as he watched her dip the brush back in the bottle, “you can come watch,” she chuckled and patted the spot next to her.
He looked at her face and it was supporting a soft smile. He nodded slowly and sat with his legs crossed and eyes darted back to the task she was doing. His nose wrinkled at the smell of the polish and she chuckled at his frown, “smells like chemicals.”
“It’s paint, so yeah…” she shrugged and focused on painting her middle finger. He leaned in to see better, her hand was so steady as the brush cleanly avoided her skin. He watched quietly as she finished her left hand and blew on them lightly. “Painting my right hand is harder so I might make more mistakes.”
He looked up at her in shock, he’s never seen his big sister make a mistake in his life, he didn’t even know she could.
“You never make mistakes,” he muttered.
She chuckled fondly, “You’re too cute, Kiyo,” she ruffled his hair with her unpainted right hand. He blushed at the affection, he wasn’t too close to his siblings since they were always too busy for him but he did like it when they paid attention to him.
After she was finished with her left hand and fixed up the little mistakes she made, she turned to show them to her younger brother, “Do you like them?” Kiyoomi’s eyes were wide, he nodded quickly. She smiled, “Do you want to put the top coat on my nails?”
“Top coat?” He tilted his head.
She picked up the clear bottle, “this polish is clear to help keep the colour for longer! Since it’s clear it’s hard to make mistakes!”
Kiyoomi blinked at her and eyed the bottle before looking at her fingernails. It was a beautiful shade of red, he really didn’t want to mess it up. But his sister said it would be hard to mess up so… maybe… he nodded nervously.
She must’ve sensed his nerves because she smiled reassuringly, “I promise you’ll do well, Kiyo.”
He followed her instructions as she guided him through painting the clear coat onto her right hand. She was encouraging and reassured him that it was okay when the polish made the skin around her finger nails glossy. He felt terrible but looked up at her easy going smile and knew she wasn’t mad.
He continued until both hands were done.
He looked up at her nervously, worried that he did something poorly but she held them up with a gleeful smile, “They’re perfect, Kiyo! You did so well!”
He curled into himself, not used to the praise. She chuckled affectionately and blew on her nails when she noticed Kiyoomi looking at his own nails with the smallest frown. She hesitated, knowing how her parents might react but decided to ask anyway, “Kiyo? Do you… Want me to paint your nails?”
He looked up with wide sparkling eyes, “Isn’t it… Girly?”
His sister took a pause to contemplate the next words out of her mouth. She knew how strict their parents were, but after befriending all kinds of people through her life she’s known a few men who also like painting their nails and she really didn’t want her little brother to grow up with the same mindset their older brother had. He had quite a lot of toxic masculinity, she didn’t want to see another shitty man in her life.
“Anyone can wear nail polish, Kiyo. Boys and girls both have nails, why should only one gender be able to paint them?”
Young Kiyoomi had no reason to dispute that so he looked down at his hands and held one out to her, “Could you… Please?”
Her heart was filled with such admiration and she was excited to be able to paint her brother's nails, “Do you want red? I also have some other colours you can choose from!”
Kiyoomi thought about it, “Do you have green? Or, maybe… Yellow?”
She held up a finger to him and stood up quickly. She fetched both colours he requested and ran back to him quickly, “we can do some green and some yellow, how about that?”
Kiyoomi’s stomach flipped with excitement and he nodded quickly, “Okay!” He smiled and showed off his gappy smile, courtesy of the tooth he lost the other day.
She started painting his nails, alternating green and yellow until she heard the front door open. She felt her stomach drop, reality crashing into her as her parents announced their arrival.
Kiyoomi looked at her in confusion as her hand slipped and got a bit of the colour on his skin. Before he could ask what was wrong he heard his father.
“Kiyoomi. Kumiko. What do you think you’re doing?” Their father’s voice sounded loud and domineering.
Guilt washed over her as she tried to explain but he shut her down, “Did he ask for you to paint his nails?” It was asked with such venom. All she could do was swallow and look down at her little brother who was sitting on his hands, surely getting paint on the carpet below them. She couldn’t respond and just hung her head in shame.
“Kiyoomi. Stand up. Wash that filth off your hands. Only girls wear that shit,” He spat.
Kiyoomi stood up on shaky legs and bit his lip to stop it from trembling.
He never wore nail polish again. He hated the shame his father battered into him for liking something so simple. Something so girly.
Kiyoomi was seventeen when he saw a man wear nail polish. He believed the man was gay and he, recently, has been figuring out his own sexuality. He knew he wasn’t straight but he wasn’t able to admit it to himself. He spoke to the man and couldn’t help but watch his hands as he spoke while flinging his coloured nails around.
That day he went to the store and browsed the nail polish. There were so many colours and options as his eyes looked around curiously. When they spotted a green and yellow polish his heart dropped and he immediately left the aisle. He couldn’t. Even if he wanted to… It was frowned on… but why? Why did he feel so…
Push it away. Push it away… You can’t have it. You can’t have what you think you want. Just stop thinking about it.
He sighed and continued his shopping, ignoring the way his body wanted to go back to the aisle.
When Kiyoomi was twenty-two he came to the conclusion that he was a gay man. It was a long time in the making but he accepted it. There was no way he could deny it anymore, especially when he met his boyfriend, Atsumu. Technically, they met before in high school but it was the first time they got along, despite it being filled with banter and rage baiting.
It was his first real relationship. It was something he’s never experienced before. It felt so magnetic, despite wishing he could hate the man. He was the bane of his existence but also one of the most beautiful things in his life.
Atsumu was so open minded. He was so sure and confident in his body, his wants, his likes… He hated having to conform to the expectations of others. He was so masculine to Kiyoomi but he hated being called that. It was interesting to Kiyoomi, why wouldn’t a man want to be called masculine? It was what he was trying to achieve his whole life.
“Masculinity has lost all meanin’, Omi,” Atsumu explained one day.
“Well… you are. You’re strong, protective, you like fighting…” he trailed off when he saw the inquisitive look on Atsumu’s face, “What? Do you not like being called masculine?”
Atsumu huffed out a quiet laugh, “Omi-Omi… Yer soundin’ like someone who would ask ‘who’s the man’ in a gay couples relationship,” he turned back to the stove to stir the food on the element.
“I mean… All things considered, you probably would be.”
Atsumu looked over his shoulder, “Oh yeah? Then why am I cookin’ for us?”
Kiyoomi hesitated, “I suck at cooking.”
“Right…” he turned around, leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “What makes ya the ‘girl’ in the relationship then, darlin’?”
Kiyoomi frowned, he looked down at his hands, “I bottom–most times, at least–I, uh,” he shrugged. He suddenly felt really uncomfortable with the weight of Atsumu’s gaze on him, “I clean more often…”
I want to paint my nails and wear pretty things.
But those words stay hidden in his mind because Atsumu doesn’t know about all of that yet, “I like cute things… sometimes.”
“Well, Omi-Omi, I think, both of us are the ‘men’ in the relationship, personally.” He walked over and sat across the table from his boyfriend, “Ya can call herself a girl all ya want for those things, that–may I add–many men also like. But if ya think of yerself as a girl I think we got another type of call comin’ in from headquarters,” he teased.
Kiyoomi looked up with a scowl, “I’m not a girl. I’m just saying, in the eyes of other peopl–”
“Why do ya give a fuck about what others think so much? Omi… Ya say yer a man, ya don’t have to be masculine t’be a man. Men don’t gotta be masculine to have their gender affirmed in whatever way yer brain is tryna tell ya,” he scoffed. He sighed and tilted his head, trying to get a better view of his boyfriend's face despite it being held down, staring at his hands resting in his lap.
“Can ya look at me?” Atsumu asked. Kiyoomi rolled his eyes but looked up and met his gaze, “If ya wanna be masculine–which I could argue y’are–you’re the most masculine man I’ve ever met. I mean, I doubt all those straight, muscular, so-called manly-men could take my dick as good as ya.”
Kiyoomi reached over and punched his shoulder lightly.
Atsumu smiled fondly, “Listen, ya told me about how yer parents were really strict on gender roles. I, frankly, think it’s bullshit. Masculine and feminine are just ways to group people unnecessarily into smaller boxes. T’limit people doin’ what they like, to keep us separate and easy to control. Fuck that shit, Omi. I fuckin’ hate that shit. If ya wanna wear somethin’ ‘girly’ or ‘feminine’ and still wanna be seen as masculine, I think the most masculine thing ya could do is give a middle finger to all the preconceived notions of what masculinity even is.”
Kiyoomi’s brain was short circuiting as he tried to come around to the new perspective. He didn’t fully understand but he understood that he was led astray. His parents were wrong but what was right? Did it need to be right? Why couldn’t it just be? Could he let it be?
He bit his lip in thought and Atsumu could tell his mind was trying to soak in all the new information so he stood up, walked over to his boyfriend and kissed the top of his head, “I think yer brain is still reelin’ but honestly, Omi, if you wanna be masculine, there’s nothing you could do that wouldn’t be masculine. And, if ya wanna be feminine, you can still be a man and do that too. And, hell, baby, if ya wanna be woman be my fuckin’ guest. You’d be the most beautiful, feminine or masculine, woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I love ya no matter what ya wanna be or how ya wanna present, understand?”
Kiyoomi’s face burned, “I’m not trans or anything!”
Atsumu shrugged, “Okay. But if ya change yer mind, my love, I’d love to learn all about it.”
Kiyoomi covered his face. He just wanted to paint his nails, he never even thought about possibly being a woman. He excused himself and washed his face and hands as Atsumu was putting together their meal.
There was a lot that Kiyoomi didn't fully understand about himself. Sure he said he would probably be the ‘woman’ in the relationship but even then he didn’t actually think he was that feminine, considering. Though, the whole conversation just served to confuse him even more about his own feelings about himself. He liked things that were considered feminine but he didn’t think he was.
Fuck, why was it so confusing?
He just wanted to like things without his fathers condescending voice yelling at him that he had to be a man. What even was a man?
This shit was stupid.
Shoyou came to practice one day with painted nails. It was the first time he’s seen his teammate wear it. Atsumu was the first to comment on it, the ever observant man he was.
“Oh shit, Sho! Yer nails look sick!” Atsumu exclaimed.
Kiyoomi’s head whipped around and quickly spotted his boyfriend quickly moving over to their friend. He looked so excited, Kiyoomi was curious, so he hesitantly walked over and joined the growing crowd. He looked over his boyfriend's shoulder and saw the gold and black nails. They were obviously painted for the team's colour and the ring fingers were black with the shiny gold painted like claw marks.
“Holy shit! They look really cool, Sho!” Bokuto exclaimed.
Kiyoomi had a feeling clawing at his chest, it made him a little angry. Maybe he was envious of how happy Shoyou looked showing off his nails and explained who did them for him and how fun it was.
He remembered that feeling before it was all crushed by his father. A pit formed in his throat but before he could say anything Atsumu turned to him, “Omi-Omi, doesn’t Sho’s nails look cool?”
His eyebrows furrowed, he was glad he had his mask on because his frown was probably obvious if he hadn’t been. He nodded, “Yeah. Cool,” he turned and went back to his locker.
His chest hurt as he thought back to that day. He never felt more ashamed about liking what he liked. Granted, from that day on he hardly shared what he liked to his parents for that reason; he was scared of them thinking poorly of him for what he did like.
He was so jealous of Shoyou. He was so confident… So… He just… Didn’t give a fuck.
Why do I care so fucking much…?
He felt a tap on his shoulder and nearly jumped out of his skin, “Jesus, warn me before sneaking up on me.”
Atsumu quirked an eyebrow, “If I was sneakin’ up on ya why would I warn ya? Kinda defeats the purpose…”
“Don’t sneak up on me then,” Kiyoomi snapped back and continued to fish through his bag.
“Yer shoes are on the bench, grumpy pants,” Atsumu mumbled.
Despite how much Kiyoomi thinks he can hide his true intentions or wants from his boyfriend, Atsumu consistently proves to him that he’s actually, creepily, good at reading him. That day, after practice, Atsumu said he was going to drop by the store before going back home. Kiyoomi nodded and told him what he needed.
Kiyoomi was watching a dumb show as Atsumu opened the door to their apartment, “Omi-Omi, I’m home!”
“Welcome home,” he said loud enough for the other to hear.
“Come help me unpack, will ya? Lazy ass…” he jokingly muttered under his breath.
Kiyoomi got up, “If I knew you were getting so much I would’ve accompanied you,” he frowned seeing the several bags he was struggling to keep in his grip.
“Maybe my big, strong–ow–partner should just join me anyway,” he said as he placed all the bags on the table and rubbed his elbow where he knocked it on a chair.
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, “whatever. What did you get?” He asked, peaking into a bag curiously.
“Help me unpack and see for yerself.”
Kiyoomi sighed but complied. In the last bag at Atsumu slid to him to unpack the spiker looked in and paused. There were several bottles of nail polish, “Atsu… What’s with the, uh?”
“What, Omi?”
“Nail polish?” He furrowed his eyebrows and held a bottle of black nail polish in his palm.
“Do ya like the colours I got?” He said with a small smile, “I got some I thought y’would like too!”
“Oh um… No.”
Atsumu’s smile fell, “ya don’t like the colours? Don’t think it would suit me?”
“Oh,” he put the bottle down and took a step back, “I–no, they’re good. You could wear any colour and it would be nice.” He said with a wobble in his voice. Atsumu tilted his head and picked up all the little bottles of polish.
“Thought we could paint our nails. I’ve never done it before, but Shoyou looked really cool today, dontcha think?”
Kiyoomi looked around, not knowing what to say, “yeah, I guess.”
Atsumu had a knowing look on his face and it made Kiyoomi uneasy, “Ever wear nail polish, Omi? I think ya’d look real good with it.”
Kiyoomi couldn’t help but feel like the blonde was teasing him. He just shrugged, “not really… My sister painted my nails once but when our parents saw and yelled at me to take it off, so…”
Atsumu nodded slowly with a frown, “did ya like the idea of painting them?” He paused as Kiyoomi shrugged, avoiding eye contact, “Well… yer parents aren’t here and I got this remover stuff in case we don’t like it!” He pulled out the nail polish remover and showed it to Kiyoomi.
It was the same bottle his mother used to roughly wipe off the green and yellow from his nails. He swallowed roughly but reluctantly shrugged, if this was what Atsumu wanted, he would love to see him happy.
After they finished putting away the groceries, Atsumu dragged him to the couch and sat on the ground. He patted the ground next to him urging the man to sit down as he had all the nail polish bottles on the table in front of him.
The scene brought him back to his eight year old self. He exhaled, trying to keep himself composed. He wasn’t going to be in trouble. He was okay. He was safe. He’s always safe with Atsumu.
He sat down and listened to Atsumu debate what colours he wanted. He didn’t say anything, just watched as Atsumu took each bottle and put it next to his nails, “How ‘bout this one?” Kiyoomi blinked, before shrugging. It was a dark red bottle of nail polish, more maroon than a vibrant red. “I also liked the black that Sho wore though.”
Kiyoomi nodded slowly.
“Yer no help,” he clicked his tongue. “Oh! What if I do every nail black except the ring finger?” He looked so excited by his idea that Kiyoomi couldn’t help but let his lips twitch into a fond smile.
“Okay! Get to it!” Atsumu said, tossing the black nail polish at him.
Kiyoomi caught it reflexively, “Wait what?”
“We’re painting each other's nails, dumby,” he smirked, holding out his hand, “c’mon.”
“Wh–No… I’ve never… That’s not–”
“Urgh yer so–” he pretended to grab his head and squeezed the air before shaking it, “please, baby?” He pouted and widened his eyes in a way that Kiyoomi could rarely say no to. He inhaled and exhaled audibly and Atsumu smirked knowing that he was going to comply.
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes and shook the bottle before reaching out for Atsumu’s hand. Atsumu felt his heart flutter as he stuck out his hand for Kiyoomi to grab.
He started painting the man’s nails slowly. He was so focused on not shaking and not getting any paint on Atsumu’s skin that he didn’t notice the way Atsumu was watching his concentrated face so fondly. Kiyoomi hummed after a couple nails, not looking up as he asked, “is it… okay?”
Atsumu didn’t look down as he whispered, “It’s perfect, my love.”
Kiyoomi looked up at him and felt his ears burn as the flush rushed to his face, “Did you even look?” He said, flustered.
“I don’t have ta. Anythin’ you do is–”
“Shut up. Look at your fucking nails,” he pushed the hand up to Atsumu’s face.
Atsumu chuckled and finally looked, “my answer doesn’t change.”
Kiyoomi clenched his jaw and took his hand again, muttering how stupid he was as he finished the hand. Kiyoomi messed up a bit on his pinky nail and he immediately did what he remembers what his sister did, he dragged his nail over the still wet polish on his skin and wiped it off. Content with how well it worked he smiled lightly and admired his own work.
“I love ya, Omi-Omi,” Atsumu muttered.
“What? I know?” Kiyoomi frowned.
Atsumu chuckled and rolled his eyes. He used his non painted hand and flicked the man’s forehead, “Say it back.”
“Obviously, I do,” Kiyoomi shrugged, motioning Atsumu to give him his other hand.
“Say it,” he whined.
“I love you, Atsumu. Give me your hand.”
“Are ya enjoyin’ yerself?” Atsumu asked as he gave Kiyoomi his hand.
“Uh...”
“I am. A lot,” Atsumu said, seeing the uncertainty on his face.
“… I am too…” it was quiet but Atsumu heard him loud and clear. He smiled happily and watched as Kiyoomi got back in the zone to finish off his nails. After he was done both hands Atsumu leaned over and kissed him.
“Careful,” Kiyoomi scowled as he made sure Atsumu didn’t mess up the fresh polish.
“God, yer the cutest. What colour do ya want?” Atsumu smiled. He could see the hesitance, “What about just black?”
Kiyoomi looked at his nails and nodded slowly.
Atsumu got to work, he’s never painted nails before and it showed. He was painting over his cuticles and didn’t brush off the excess paint from the brush before putting it on his nails, making it look sloppy and much like Kiyoomi's first time had he not done it with clear polish.
Despite how poorly it’s done, he found his chest flooded with warmth as his eyes flitted from his nails to the small sliver of Atsumu’s tongue poking out from his lips as he focused. When Atsumu finished he looked proud at his ‘masterpiece’.
“It’s so messy,” Kiyoomi said simply as he observed his nails.
Atsumu pouted, “Sorry we’re not all as perfect as ya, Omi.”
Kiyoomi looked at him and bit his lip nervously. He loved it but he didn’t know how to express it, “I…”
“We can take it off if ya don–”
“No. I, it’s good, Atsu.” He had a quick worry that his father would walk in and demand that he take it off but nothing like that happened. There was no shame; no fear here.
He was safe. He never had to fear around Atsumu. It didn’t matter what he liked, or how he wanted to express himself… Anything he did would be welcomed with open arms here.
“I love it.”
And he would never be judged, only embraced.
“Cool. Now. Once this is dry, I want to see yer pretty painted nails ‘round my cock if yer down,” Atsumu grinned.
Kiyoomi closed his eyes with a sigh, of course.
He loved an idiot. A perfect, open minded, dumb, amazing, fucking moron. He couldn’t think of anyone else he would rather spend his life with.