sakuatsu one shots

safe place

Kiyoomi made it abundantly clear when they'd first moved in together exactly what the rules were. Atsumu is never to step foot in the bathroom when Kiyoomi is in there - Kiyoomi never explained why, but Atsumu has always assumed it's because showering is the only time when Kiyoomi is really and truly bare.

And, up until this point, Atsumu has never violated that simple instruction. It's fucking easy, and somehow Atsumu managed to screw it all up in the first thirty minutes of what is supposed to be a perfect day - in other words, he has fluff for brains and now Kiyoomi is going to break up with him and they're never going to get married under a sunset and his whole life is ruined.

Oh god.

"Atsumu?" Kiyoomi's voice comes from behind a pane of thickly fogged glass, soft and hesitant.

"Um...Omi I'm sor-"

The ramp up is sudden and borderline terrifying. His heart falls out of his chest and his ribs ache and his face feels burning hot like the face of the sun. Oh no.

"Atsumu get out!" He hates hearing his boyfriend so panicked, the fear in his voice overwhelming. It echoes and bounces off of every surface, glossy with steam. Atsumu's head spins, tears threatening to fall. "Atsumu get out!"

Without waiting to try and spit out another apology, Atsumu exits the bathroom, unintentionally slamming the door behind him.

The sound echoes - whether it's all in his head or not, Atsumu doesn't know, but he leans against the door, sliding down slowly. His heart pounds against his ribcage, blood pumping in his ears as he tries to steady himself. Guilt weighing heaving on his shoulders, Atsumu slumps forward, knees piled to his chest, forehead on his knees.

This is not how he wanted to start their perfect day.

-

Another game wraps up, and another wave of fans storms them, despite the team attempting to make a sneaky entrance out the back door of the locker room.

Kiyoomi huddles to Atsumu's side like a barnacle - he's always hated crowds and the germs they're capable of spreading, his quickly they're capable of spreading it. Atsumu keeps an arm wrapped around his waist the entire time, anchoring his boyfriend, slipping his hand into the spiker's pocket.

The press mob them as per usual - if it doesn't happen on court, it's bound to happen outside the stadium. It's an inevitable course of events. Such is the life of a pro athlete with a fan base that is thoroughly invested in the team's interpersonal relationships.

They always ask the same questions and always receive the same, non-committal, non-answer answers. And yet they still ask every time. Questions like:

"Bokuto-Senshu, are you together with Akaashi Keiji?"

"Hinata-Senshu, there are rumors that you're in a relationship with the setter for the Schweiden Adlers. Can you lend validity to them?"

"Meian-Senshu, is it true that you're bisexual?"

But the most infuriating of them all is the ever-present, ever-looming,

"Sakusa-Senshu, fans want to know why you wear gloves?"

Kiyoomi shrinks in on himself as he always does, shoulder crumpling in, face scrunching in that way it always does when he finds something entirely distasteful. His nose wrinkles and his eyebrows twist together, and his hand grips Atsumu's tight tight tight like the setter is the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground.

Atsumu shoos away the press and the fans with polite smiles and "no comment" statement's pushing his way through the dense mass of people toward the team bus, keeping Kiyoomi stuck to his side the entire time.