Early morning sunshine spills in through the large windows of the living room. It casts a warm glow, filling the room with a comforting orange glimmer, blooming across the floor. There's a familiar soft whir of the fridge, paired with the distant chirping of birds outside. Komori hums an off-key tune, a breathy murmur to himself. He's standing above the stove, watching the coffee machine buzz quietly in front of him. Cups clanking against each other, his fingers drumming against the wooden cabinet.
Then, a soft pitter-patter of footsteps echo down the hallway, slippers dragging lazily across the floor. A quiet, low groan rumbles from the previously empty hall, a figure slowly emerging from the dimly lit room. His arms hover above his head, a hand clutched to his forearm. His shirt is wrinkled, shuffled from sleep, riding up to reveal a sliver of his torso. Messy black curls pile on the top of his head, tousled and stuck out in separate directions. Sakusa Kiyoomi drags himself into the kitchen, his calloused palm muffling a yawn. He mutters, voice groggy and raspy from sleep.
"Morning Mori." Komori's head whips around, sparing Sakusa a brief glance over the shoulder. A faint pause, then a wide grin spreads across his face.
"Ah, morning Kiyo!" He sing-songs, and with a spin of his heel, he's now facing the scowling man. Komori chirps "Want coffee? You look like you could use some."
A long, almost dramatic sigh leaves Sakusa's throat. He flops down onto the leather stool, the soft blue cushion flattening underneath his body weight as he sinks down even further. His hands land lazily into his lap, threading together, filling in the gaps between his fingers. He gives a small, jerky nod, mumbling out incoherently.
".. Need it."
Komori barks out a laugh, loud and unshamed. He crosses the distance between them in a few long strides, giving Sakusa a gentle pat on the back.
"Oh cmon, cheer up Kiyo!" Atsumu's gonna be at practice today." Komori purrs, reaching out a cup of coffee towards him.
Sakusa deadpans, staring holes into Komori. "Seriously? Not making my day any better, you know?"
Komori snickers, unapologetic, rolling his eyes. "Tch, so dramatic! You'll live Sakusa!"
Slowly but surely time passes and the clock now reads 7PM. Practice is running flawlessly. Clean plays, long rallies, precise hits and fast footwork.
Tho there's one thing that keeps bugging Sakusa. Well, rather someone.
Atsumu Miya. the bleach blond, arrogant, piece of-
"Nice hit, Omi-Omi!" Atsumu drawls out, making Sakusa snap out of his own daze. Sakusa just grumbles underneath his breath, barely managing to reach out his hand towards the blond to give him a high five.
Sakusa despises even the thought of Atsumu. He's loud, uncalled for, and even according to Sakusa, far too bold, even by Atsumu Miya's standards. Atsumu keeps nagging those around him. He barked out commands, snarling and shouting at everything, whether it deserved praise or punishment. The kid ran hot with everything, energy, anger, affection, pride.
"Don't call me that."
What Kiyoomi hated most was the fact that Atsumu'd touch everything and everyone around him. So it was no surprise when Sakusa felt his large, rough hands clap him on the back after a good play, grasp his hand hard during a handshake, or ruffle his hair when those beautiful black swirls stuck to his forehead.
But Kiyoomi wasn't like that. He's kept to himself, and being around Atsumu made them look like polar opposites, even just at first glance. He'd look away when Atsumu'd praise him, scoff when he'd sulk after a bad game, or roll his eyes when he'd yell at his teammates again.
Being completely different was like forcing puzzle pieces to fit together. And it wasn't helping with the fact that exactly they were paired together.
"Sakusa and Miya, you'll be playing together during this drill."
Sakusa swallowed down a groan, trying to suppress his words from spilling out. Meanwhile, Atsumu was having the time of his life. The blissful delight etched onto his grin was borderline ecstatic.
"You ready to beat some-"
"Language, Miya. Calm your attitude, the game hasn't even started yet."
For a brief moment, Atsumu kept quiet. He let out a soft sigh, then offered a slightly less mischievous smile.
"Okay, fine.. Still, we're gonna win however you wanna put it." Atsumu hums, already cracking his fingers.
And safe to say, Atsumu was right.
Each play was absolutely stunning. Every ball was fast, sharp, controlled like second nature. With a final, jagged snap of Sakusa's wrist, they secured the match, winning by a far difference. Atsumu strides over, crossing the court with his arms raised high.
"See! I told you! And now, you just proved my point."
Sakusa swatted away at the offered high five, scowling slightly.
"I know we would've won. I just told you to humble yourself before you make a fool of us both."
Atsumu whined, catching up to Sakusa who was already walking away.
"Oh, come on! Not even a high five or anything?"
Sakusa exhales a ragged breath tiredly, knowing the only way for Atsumu to back off was to engage in his theatrics. He turns around, then briefly offers a hand towards him.
"Don't make it a habit, Miya."
A smug smirk plasters across his face, lighting up his features.
"About time already!" He blurts out, smacking his palm hard against Sakusa's, making them both flinch back at the force.
Sakusa stumbles back, holding his stinging palm, which is now blooming a not-so-subtle red.
"Christ, Miya! Can't you hold back for once, you-"
He cuts himself off, stopping at a halt.
In front of him stood Atsumu. Not roaring, wreckless Atsumu. But the real, sweet young boy hidden behind blaring talent and a loud mouth.
The sight was ephemeral. His grin was softer. Gentler. It just felt more... real. The type of smile that crinkles your eyes just right, making them shine bright even when they're half closed and squinting. The hiccups between his laugh, his lungs still trying to catch up to his actions. His energy was contagious, his aura beamed vivid, and everything he did was gleaming with honour and vanity. And Atsumu wasn't afraid to show it.
His arms flew open, tackling Kiyoomi. He hugged him tight, arms wrapping around Sakusa's large back. Kiyoomi grunted hard, catching Atsumu. Atsumu laughed softly, picking Sakusa up and spinning him around lightly.
When he whispered, it was hushed. Mellow. Peaceful.
"I had so much fun, Omi. Thank you, for giving me a chance."
The second Atsumu put him down, Sakusa pulled back. Not harsh, not slow either. But like he was aching to do so. And the second he met that familiar pair of big, beaming brown eyes, and that stupid tender look on Atsumu's face.
He'd realised, that everything he'd ever longed for, was actually covered in sweat, smugness and a wide sneer. For the first time, he made peace with the fact that he never knew he was walking away from the very thing that was keeping him whole.
And as rare as it may seem, Kiyoomi found himself smiling warmly at the one person he thought he could never learn to understand.