Chapter Text
Miya Atsumu never expected to have spent his summer into senior year in a mental health facility. Granted, he also never expected to wake up to see his senior year.
The weeks he spent there were some of the most difficult days of his life, but also turned out to be the most enlightening.
He was forced to confront the thoughts he feared most. The ones that followed him through most of his waking hours and into the dark hours of the night. If he was feeling oh so lucky (sarcasm) they’d accompany him in his dreams.
The worst of them still have yet to leave his mouth. The thoughts, that is. No matter how much the therapists and counsellors encouraged him to air out his dirty laundry, he refused.
“The thoughts don’t define who you are.”
“You are not your thoughts.”
“Your thoughts don’t make you a bad person, Miya,”
With gritted teeth in disguise of a smile he repeated himself, “I’m not comfortable sharing them,”
It was responded to with a frown but they ultimately dropped the whole encouraging (pushy) words in order to get him to share his darkest intrusive thoughts.
While dating Sakusa there have been several incidents where Atsumu felt the urge to divulge everything to him. All his darkest thoughts, urges, feelings… This is mainly for the fact that he wants someone else to realize how fucked up he is and confirm the fact that he shouldn’t be alive.
Atsumu has never been in a relationship prior to Kiyoomi. There were many factors into why that is but the ultimate deciding factor in him turning down men and women alike was the belief that he didn’t deserve to be loved and no one should be forced to love him. He still doesn’t believe he does.
Alas he fell too hard for Kiyoomi to reject his confession. He convinced himself that it would be easy to avoid telling Kiyoomi about his poor mental health. He would be able to carefully weave his way through deep conversations and never talk about things that were too personal. He was proven wrong not even a week after they started dating.
Kiyoomi was comfortable with Atsumu, he never felt judged or felt the need to hide his emotions and feelings. He was openly sharing vulnerable parts in his life only to receive nothing in return.
It was their first fight as a couple. After a short story he shared in his childhood all he received was comfort. Which, don’t get him wrong, it was sweet and much appreciated.
During the time they spent holding each other Kiyoomi was mentally trying to compare both of their childhoods, only to be struck with the realization that he didn’t know much about the blonde’s. Practically nothing. They've been together for several months now.
Ruminating on that fact, he came to the conclusion that he didn’t truly know Atsumu, nothing more than what he knew when they were solely friends. That fact alone sat heavy in Kiyoomi’s chest, he had shared so many stories – positive and negative, that shaped him to the person who he is today, only to receive nothing in return.
He turned around in Atsumu’s arms so they were facing each other.
“I feel like I barely know you,” he whispered quietly enough for just them to hear. In retrospect he realized he probably should have worded it differently as he saw Atsumu physically wince and recoil.
“What?”
“I mean, I don't know what made you, well, you. You never talk about how you feel, and I couldn’t tell you anything about your childhood, not even anything other than the surface level of high school you,”
Atsumu was quiet for several minutes, turning so he laid on his back with his hands folded over his stomach. With a sigh he muttered a simple, “Whaddya want ta know?”
Kiyoomi furrowed his eyebrows, head on his hands so he was lying on his stomach several inches away from his boyfriend.
“I don’t know, Atsumu, what do you feel comfortable talking about? I don’t want to pressure you into divulging what you’re reluctant to share. I want you to trust me enough to know you, is that so hard?”
“Kinda,” Atsumu huffed barely audible to Kiyoomi’s ears.
“Why?”
At this point in the conversation Sakusa was starting to feel a swarm of emotions. He’s typically good at masking his feelings due to the years of repressed emotions and the reprimanding for sharing when he did.
That, being something he had told Atsumu just the other day. In response he received the encouragement to be more expressive with his emotions when they’re together.
Atsumu also knew that Kiyoomi felt emotions very strongly. So when these emotions during their talk surfaced he wanted to explode.
Betrayal, humiliation, anger, sadness… They felt like a tidal wave ready to destroy everything in its way. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths to centre his thoughts and focus on listening to what his boyfriend would say next.
“Kiyoomi, please, can we just drop it? For tonight at least?”
A knot was felt in his throat as his heart sank and vision blurred.
“Fucking…” He cut himself off, three deep breaths, “I’m going home. See you at practice,”
With the final words spoken he stood up, and walked out the door of Atsumu’s room. He left his dirty clothes and overnight bag. Atsumu reached his hands up to his hair and pulled, “Fuck,” He spoke loudly, dragging his hands down his face.
That night Atsumu could barely sleep. Thoughts of Kiyoomi and what kind of things he could even say flew through his mind, yet nothing felt right.
The more he thought about having to talk about his past the more he realized he couldn’t avoid bringing up his poor mental health. He managed to avoid it for so long, longer than he thought he was able to. But now everything was falling apart around him, everything he built was falling fast.
Quickly, he started thinking about how he would even tell Kiyoomi about his disorder. How would even explain his obsessions without sounding like a terrible person he couldn’t help but believe he is? What if Kiyoomi didn’t believe it was a disorder and it was truly what Atsumu thought? That’s what Atsumu couldn’t help but believe either half the time…
His intrusive thoughts came in hard and fast. They swarmed, making god awful noises that wouldn’t fucking stop. His mental compulsions came full swing following the thought spiral. Ruminating, thought neutralizing and repression, even praying to a god he wasn’t 100% convinced of.
The repetition of muttering shut up, shut up, shut up, was starting to make his throat dry. He felt frustration and anger coming to the forefront of his emotions, he wanted to scream, cry, to hold someone, beg someone for their reassurance, ask them if they thought he was a bad person… He wanted his boyfriend. But he fucked that up, so now he had to pay the price.
Maybe this was for the best. Maybe he should just break up with Kiyoomi… He didn’t deserve the love he was being given. He wasn’t able to give it back when he was filled with so much hatred for himself. What made him even think he could sustain a relationship?
What made him think he could live this long?
When he finally felt able to make his way to the kitchen for a glass of water he checked the time.
03:15
Kiyoomi left at 23:00.
Looking at the time in disbelief he clocked it as one of his longest continuous OCD episodes. The exhaustion hit him all at once and he felt his legs weaken beneath him. He sat on the floor of the kitchen staring at the glass of water in front of him.
Once the clock hit 03:30 he slowly stood up, walking to his room with hunched shoulders, red eyes and hit his empty bed with a thud.
Morning practice started at 07:30. His clock was set to go off in three hours.
Fuck.
He fell asleep almost immediately.
When his alarm went off he hit the snooze button as fast as his hands could move. Following a weak attempt to sit up in his bed he huffed and resorted to lay on his stomach, his day was decided.
He sent a text to Meian to let him know he isn’t feeling well enough for practice and sent a cute emoji apologizing. He hoped that wouldn’t put any worry in the heads of his teammates.
The second time Atsumu’s alarm sounded he turned it off along with his ringer and closed his eyes again drifting asleep before any thought could even enter his mind.
When he woke up he felt his head throb and he groaned. The fact that he woke up was quite irritating but alas this is the result of a failed suicide attempt from years prior. He chuckled weakly and bitterly into his pillow.
As he checked the time on his phone he noticed the amount of missed calls and texts from his teammates. Most being from his boyfriend.
He opened their text thread and noticed Kiyoomi had warned him that he’ll be over soon, it was sent less than five minutes ago.
Fuck fuck fuck. He muttered as he stepped out of his comfy cocoon of blankets. Give me a fuckin’ break.
He tripped over his frayed carpet. God fuckin’ dammit.
Kiyoomi seemed to have invited himself into the apartment to see a fallen bed sheet over Atsumu’s body.
With a hand rubbing his back, Atsumu lifted his head to see his very concerned boyfriend stare back at him.
“Hi Atsu,”
Atsumu sat up and moved away from Kiyoomi’s touch.
Kiyoomi’s chest felt tight at the clear uncomfortable, tense posture of the shorter man.
“How are you feeling?” Kiyoomi questioned while shifting on the floor to look at Atsumu straight on.
He was given an unimpressed look, “You walked in on me while I was face down on the floor,”
“That’s a fair point… Are you sick?”
“No, so you don’t have ta put yer mask on, I’m fine,” His tone was laced with attitude but Kiyoomi didn’t flinch. He hated how strong willed his boyfriend could be sometimes.
“You skipped practice so you're clearly not fine.”
Atsumu rolled his eyes, “You don't even know me so how can you make that call,”
“Is that why you skipped? It was a little fight, we just have to talk it through, okay? You don’t have to run away from your problems all the time,” Kiyoomi’s face was laced with concern. It made Atsumu furious that he didn’t have the same frustration he displayed last night.
He wanted Kiyoomi to be mad too, he just feels like an asshole now. He stood up with a scoff, wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and made his way to the kitchen for some pain killers. Kiyoomi followed close behind.
“I don’t know what to tell you, okay? My childhood is a blur and highschool was shitty. Why would I want to share that shit?”
“Because I care about you? I want to know you Atsumu, anything… Everything… Just, what makes you the person I fell for.”
Atsumu sat at his kitchen table and stared at the wood, not knowing what to say. “You wouldn’t want to know,” He whispered, “you’ll leave me…”
“Why?” Kiyoomi stressed. His patience was wearing thin but he knew, from past relationships, that he couldn't let this fester, but god, was his self-restraint hanging by a damn thread. “Am I not worthy of your trust?”
“God, Kiyoomi. Why are you making this sound like you’re the problem?” He mumbled folding his hands on the table and buried his head between.
“Is that not what’s happening? You don’t trust me, but I would like you to know that trust and communication are so important for a healthy relationship. I know you’ve never been in one before but you gotta get your shit together, Miya. I don’t like these childish games.” He tried to keep his voice strong and stable but the tremors in his words were hard to ignore.
“Do not call me Miya right now. You know how much I hate that when we're alone.”
“Fuck, you’re not making this easy for me,” Kiyoomi stood up abruptly. Atsumu’s head jerked up to watch Sakusa as he paced back and forth. Finally, there’s the anger Atsumu was looking for.
“Here, I'll make this nice and easy for ya, short and sweet, let’s break up.” Once the words tumbled out of Atsumu’s mouth he wanted to pull them back. Despite having regretted the words he spoke he kept his facial expressions stoic.
He didn’t know what to expect to come out of Kiyoomi’s mouth, he assumed he would respond like the ways he’s seen on tv. Maybe he would storm out, plan a way to get back at him. Maybe he would drop to his knees and beg for him to say, beg for forgiveness. None of those responses were something Atsumu wanted to deal with.
When Kiyoomi decided to open his mouth again it was a simple two letter word.
“No.”
The word slapped Atsumu, hard.
He stood there, staring at Atsumu with a stern, no funny business expression. No words would flow out of Atsumu’s mouth despite opening and closing for what felt like five minutes. At the end he emitted a confused whimper. Pathetic.
“Atsumu, this is our first real fight, sure, but you cannot go around hitting me with that line or I'll take it seriously and leave.” Kiyoomi sat down across from the confused stuttering fool he was undoubtedly crazy for.
“The only fucking way I’ll respect that line is after we talk through our shit and make a decision, okay?” Atsumu slowly nodded. He felt like he just got whiplash.
“So, now or later. Your choice. You’ll never feel ready so… Make your choice.”
“I… Um- I…” Kiyoomi watched as he fumbled his words. There was no judgement, no mocking, just a face telling him he’s ready for anything to hit him. “Now?” His voice cracked causing a rush of red to his neck, face and ears.
“Okay,” Sakusa said softly. The anger he was previously filled with had calmed and he felt more level headed. “Let’s go to the living room,”
They sat in silence for several minutes, it was mainly tense but Atsumu was trying to calm himself with his breathing.
“How are you feeling? Honestly,”
Now, Atsumu felt like this was a trap that he had somehow fallen into. How honest does he want him to be? People ask but if it’s too much they leave…
“Confused,” He settled on.
“Okay, why?” Kiyoomi said, his body shifting to face Atsumu, open, ready to listen, to understand.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” his voice cracked. He didn’t want to cry, damnit.
“Atsu, I’ve been telling you,” His voice was begging at this point. He was desperate for Atsumu to open up.
“Omi, I can’t,” there goes the hope of not crying. The tears slipped out unwillingly.
Kiyoomi shook his head sadly as he took his head in his hands and wiped his thumbs across his cheeks, “I just need a piece of the puzzle, not all of it. I just need something. Please ,”
Atsumu shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, “You never commented on the scars I have on my thighs,”
Kiyoomi felt a shock up his spine, scars? He didn’t even notice… Should he have noticed? Were they obvious? He assumes…
“Self harm…?” He asked slowly, it was a shot in the dark considering he doesn’t recall seeing them.
Atsumu nodded.
“Atsu… I’m sorry, I genuinely didn’t notice. I don’t even recall now that you’ve said that…” Kiyoomi looked helplessly at Atsumu’s face, as if it would give him the answers he was looking for.
“They’re kind of faded now, so I guess that’s a good thing you didn’t,” He sighed. He was avoiding eye contact. Tears still slowly sliding down the sides of his face.
“So, what does that mean?” Kiyoomi asked. Atsumu brought up the self harm for a reason, there must be something more to the story.
“I struggled… I still do, I guess… But, in high school I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital for a while,” He closed his eyes tightly. He waited for some kind of reaction, but nothing came.
He opened his eyes and saw Kiyoomi looking at him with misty eyes and a sad frown, “I’m glad you got the help you needed,” he whispered.
Atsumu breathed out through his nose loudly and looked up at the ceiling, “I’m not better, really. I just stopped cutting. I refused to talk about what brought me to that point. They gave up on me and tossed me out with meds, diagnosis and a number for a counsellor,”
Kiyoomi nodded and listened. His hand found his way to the blonde's knee and gave it an encouraging squeeze.
“OCD and a panic disorder,” Atsumu said, “that’s my diagnosis,” he whispered. He peaked at Kiyoomi to see his reaction and he wasn't surprised to see the confusion on his face.
Atsumu and Kiyoomi had talked about OCD before. It’s a running ‘joke’ in the team that Kiyoomi has OCD. Atsumu never plays along with the jokes, or laughs along. Kiyoomi just shrugs them off as he knows the truth.
When Atsumu and Kiyoomi got together he wanted to figure out for himself if Kiyoomi actually had OCD, so he asked.
He was informed that, no he did not, he simply was particular in the way he liked things. He was assessed once when he was younger and his parents were fed up with his fussing.
Kiyoomi was a bit more informed on OCD than the average population, he would like to think. Well, to the point where he understood that it was much more than organization, cleanliness, and most of the typical stereotypes thrown around.
He understood that where those are definitely ways OCD can manifest, the disorder is not rooted in how a person likes things to be. He understood that it’s an anxiety disorder, all those compulsions are driven by anxiety, fear and discomfort.
That’s why he knew he didn’t have it, sure he was an anxious person but that was because of his social anxiety. Not based on his cleaning habits.
Despite having the rumours of his alleged OCD debunked he never did much more research after the explanation from the psychiatrist. So upon hearing Atsumu’s confession he was confused to a degree.
He tried to think of any kind of rituals or compulsions he might have seen from Atsumu… there was nothing that stuck out or really came to mind… He didn’t really understand what kind of anxiety the OCD was presenting as…
“Ironic how everyone thinks you’re the one with OCD, huh?” He said with a dark chuckle.
“I- I don’t understand,” Kiyoomi managed to say.
Atsumu sighed, “I thought ya knew what it was,”
“I know what the disorder is, but you’re- I mean, I can’t think of…”
Atsumu cringed, “I don’t like where that sentence is headed. I’ll explain what OCD means ta me. Then we can stop talking about it and move on, kay?
“Obsessions are the intrusive thoughts, feelings, urges, images,” He started, his body was tense, as if just listing what obsessions were gave him anxiety, “they can be about anything.
“Obsessions are the source of anxiety or distress. They lead to the compulsions which are repetitive and time consuming mental or physical rituals or actions to help in reducing the amount of anxiety the obsessions cause,”
Atsumu explained the disorder as if he had practiced the monologue several times before. It made sense after the explanation but Kiyoomi still had unanswered questions.
He wanted to know what Atsumu dealt with.
“What about your-”
“I don’t talk about my obsessions. End of conversation,” Atsumu said sternly. His eyes pierced Kiyoomi as if they were telling him to back the fuck off or else.
Kiyoomi nodded once and dropped it, “I’m sorry if it felt like I pushed this out of you,” he said instead, “I’m thankful you shared this with me though,”
He outstretched his hand, palm up for Atsumu to intertwine his fingers, to which he complied. They sat like that for a while, Atsumu’s head resting on the taller man's shoulder.
Weeks went by since Atsumu had opened up about his OCD. Nothing much has changed. Kiyoomi had gone home that night and done research on OCD and found a lot of information.
There was so much to the disorder that he honestly couldn’t even guess what might be going on in Atsumu’s head but it didn’t stop him from trying to figure it out. He had searched up and looked into common subtypes of the disorder and tried to see if it would be something Atsumu would struggle with.
Some subtypes seemed so ‘extreme’ that Kiyoomi didn’t even give it a second thought before dismissing it and looking at which other types he might suffer with.
It bothered him that he couldn’t figure it out.
Half way through the week he did notice some ‘quirks’ he hadn’t noticed before. They were trivial things, Atsumu covered them well but under Kiyoomi’s now super vigilant eyes he was caught.
Atsumu always walked on the right side. Kiyoomi thought maybe it was just a habit but when he went to walk on the right side of Atsumu there would always be some reason for them to switch.
“Omi, let me be closer to the curb. What if a car goes off the road and hits ya!”
But the next time the right side was on the opposite side of the road, Kiyoomi tried letting Atsumu stay near the road, with that same excuse.
“Nah, you can be my hero today, Omi-omi,” As he batted his lashes.
Kiyoomi would go to his right only for Atsumu to start dancing around him and slide around so he would eventually land on his right.
It was an interesting observation. Once he was done with the experiment he slipped into the habit of allowing Atsumu on his right, no questions asked.
Next ‘quirk’ he realized was when Atsumu was driving. Kiyoomi often turned the volume up or down depending on the song that was playing on the radio. It was only recently he noticed how every time he did so, the numbers on the screen for the volume would move even after he finished adjusting the volume.
At first he thought maybe the car was glitching or something. Then he noticed Atsumu’s nervous gaze at the numbers and the way his thumb was clicking over the volume button on the steering wheel.
After more experiments and observation he came to the conclusion that after he adjusted the volume Atsumu would make the number even (5 is okay as well) and then flip the volume up, down, up, down, up, down.
After their talk Kiyoomi almost always shut down the OCD jokes in the locker room. He didn’t know why it took him so long to realize that he was allowing mental health stigma to float around by allowing teammates to make jokes as such.
He wanted to believe he was an advocate for mental health, he literally does so with his platform, yet does nothing behind closed doors. Atsumu pretends not to hear anything in the change room when Kiyoomi finally talks back to the jokes.
The jokes stopped. Atsumu said nothing about it.
Atsumu still has yet to open up more, Kiyoomi held back his frustration and continued trying to be the best boyfriend he could. Maybe he could win him over and get him to open up.