Archive of Our Own

Kiyoomi was used to pain. He was only 10 when his chronic pain started to become a prevalent part of his life. He learned to adapt to the tribulations–he hated the fact that he even had to–but at the end of the day there wasn’t much he could do. He did his physio recommended exercises, he took supplements, he took care of himself in any way he could… But at the end of the day it never went away.  

When he was 15 he started to get nervous. In a year, symptoms of his soulmate would appear if they were both of the age 16. 

Pain. Walking in the other’s shoes was how it presented. You felt your soulmates' pain and they felt yours. He didn’t want his soulmate to feel how he felt on a daily basis, he would be cruel to let his person go through that. 

Prior to his mini spiral he never thought much of his soulmate until he asked his parents about their story. He listened to how they found out they were soulmates and found himself yearning for the day he found his. 

His mother was in the stands of her college’s baseball game. She was cheering on her favourite player, number 27–the second baseman–when the opposing teams batter on first base ran to steal second. He was focused on their catcher who had just received the ball from the pitcher and popped up to throw it to him, hoping to get the runner out. 

Number 27 had his glove out ready for the ball when his eyes caught a glance of a blue sun dress and beautiful black hair cascading over exposed shoulders. She was cheering excitedly, looking at him with hopeful eyes that he would tag the runner out, closing out the 8th inning with them on top. 

The split second distraction caused a miscalculation, the ball missed his glove striking his hip bone hard. He doubled over from the sudden pain but when he looked up, the beautiful woman in the stands now stood with a hand cradling her hip, staring at him in awe, the pain not seeming to bother her too much, the shock overriding the sensation. 

15 year old Kiyoomi listened in rapt attention as they smiled–fondly recounting how they met after the match and how all the pain from the ball they felt not even an hour prior melted away. 

“I don’t want my soulmate to hurt, Mama,” he said in a moment of vulnerability. 

The boy’s parents looked at their son with a heartbreaking expression, they brought him into a group hug and his mother kissed him on the top of his head, “They won’t, baby,” 

Kiyoomi sniffed, trying to hold back his tears, “What do you mean? The pain for them to feel is–”

“I know, I know. They’ve been working on this pill since your father and I have been kids though…” She said nervously, looking over to her husband. He smiled, “When you take it, it allows your soulmate to exist the next 24 hours without feeling your pain,” 

Kiyoomi’s eyes widened, that was a game changer! He needed it! 

“I need it,” he said immediately. 

She chuckled and soothed his arm, “You’ll have plenty, we bought a company that manufactures them,”

Kiyoomi gasped and hugged them tightly, he was so happy that he wouldn’t hurt his soulmate! He couldn’t wait until he could tell his soulmate about everything, how his parents did such a thing for their future child-in-law… 

When his 16th birthday came along he was given a year's supply of the pill. He took it religiously every morning and night–even though it was 24hr lasting–he never missed a day. He didn’t want to risk his soulmate feeling his pain and thinking he was punishing him in some way. 

A month after his birthday the pill was released to the public and it was a hit. Everyone who had yet to meet their soulmate had the pills for one reason or another. Not everyone used them like he did, obviously. They weren’t a daily dose for most. 

It was most commonly taken before people would do risky or high intensity things. People who played sports and were worried about getting sprained ankles or concussions would take it before a game–they invented shorter lasting pills as they were less expensive and therefore more affordable for most people.

The medication was especially helpful for people who opted in for surgeries. After Kiyoomi made this connection he was horrified at how he never thought about it before and he was baffled by how these pills have only hit the market now. 

Kiyoomi went about the first few weeks of his 16th year wondering how he would meet his soulmate, how his soulmate was doing… He hadn’t felt any strong pains that he deemed not his own so he wondered if his soulmate had even turned 16 yet. He wondered if his soulmate was doing the same as he was; taking the pills daily to avoid hurting him. The thought of his soulmate not wanting him to be hurting sent butterflies swirling around his stomach. 

It wasn’t until a month and a half after his birthday did his first phantom pain strike. He was hanging out with Motoya late at night when his upper thigh had a horizontal swipe of sharp, stinging pain. He winced and looked down trying to see if something had cut him somehow. When he saw nothing, no marks, no red spot, his mind scrambled to the thought of his soulmate. 

Were they okay? What happened? It was such an odd spot for a weird sort of pain? He could still feel the stinging pain lingering. As he was spinning with questions Motoya was trying to get his attention to no avail. 

Suddenly, he felt more. Swipe after swipe, his thigh was aching with the sensation of it being cut open, what was happening? Was his soulmate being tortured? What kind of twisted freak would do this to someone? 

Kiyoomi had tears rolling down his face as he held his hands to his thigh as if he could stop the bleeding, as if he could just make it stop. Arms were suddenly wrapped around him–something he would normally shy away from–and he relaxed into the embrace. He was feeling such heartbreak from someone he hasn’t met yet… Why does he hurt this much over someone he hasn’t met? 

“Kiyo, what are you feeling?” Motoya asked once his tears seemed to slow. 

“They’re hurting, ‘Toya. I can’t do anything… Their thighs… something’s wrong…”

Motoya let go of him, “It’ll pass. Just wait it out, you’ll be alright, they’ll be alright,” 

Kiyoomi dealt with his soulmate's sharp stinging pain for close to a year before he clued in. The pain didn’t stay solely on his thighs. The pain ranged from his upper arms, forearms, hips and abdomen. Though it was clear that the thighs were the primary victim. 

It slowly became pretty clear to Kiyoomi what the source of the pain was. The initial pain, when the injuries first show up, are usually during the night–when Kiyoomi assumes his soulmate's family was sleeping. It felt too intentional, calculated… That’s when the thought of self-harm popped into his mind. 

His heart ached at the thought of his soulmate hiding themself away with a blade of some sort, slicing away at their skin… Before he jumped to conclusions though, he needed to compare, he wanted to make sure his assumption was right, that the pain was what he thought it was.

So, he cut himself. 

TW/CW: GRAPHIC SELF-HARM/CUTTING! Please do not read if this is triggering in any way. Go to bold “CONTINUE” to skip. 

He gritted his teeth as he held a razor blade to his thigh, hands trembling with fear. He felt silly doing this but he needed to know if this was the pain he’s been feeling. He needed to know if there was a possibility of losing his soulmate before even finding them… 

He pressed the cold blade against his skin and hissed as he slid it across. It didn’t hurt as much as the phantom cuts–but maybe it was because he barely grazed the top layer of skin. He frowned at the little red line, not even a substantial drop of blood rising to the surface. He didn’t understand how people did this… 

His hands were shaking more as he placed the blade against his thigh again, a few centimetres higher than the last other line. He pressed harder as he slid faster. 

He gasped at the all too familiar feeling. The skin parted a couple centimetres revealing a white layer of tissue. His eyes widened at the sight, his heartbeat was pounding in his chest from the adrenaline, the fear, the anxiety… The cut pooled with red before beading up and spilling over. A line of blood dripped down the side of his thigh onto the ground. 

He looked at the razor blade in his hand, his hands were shaking as he pinched it between his fingers. He placed it against his thigh once again. The next cut was just as deep–a bit longer–and he watched it run through the same process as the last; white to a pool of red, to a line down his leg. 

He stared at the mess on his leg and he felt as if he was in some sort of trance. The blood kept dripping to the floor as he stayed like that for a few minutes. He felt a bit lightheaded–never been the best with the sight of blood. 

He knew the cuts weren’t deep enough to need any kind of medical intervention, they wouldn’t cause him to bleed out but he knew they would scar. 

He snapped out of his trance and dropped the blade he held to the floor as if it burned. The quiet sound of the metal hitting the floor caused tears to spring to his eyes. He wiped away the blood and took care of the two new open wounds on his leg, blinking away the blurry vision courtesy of his tears. 

CONTINUE

He wondered if his soulmate cared enough about themselves to properly care for their injuries. He knew they didn’t care enough to refrain from cutting their arms which is a vital component to part of their life it seemed. 

Kiyoomi quickly learned through his soulmate’s pain that they also played volleyball. It was easy to come to the conclusion when after school hours the pain from his soulmate’s forearms would suddenly have the sensation of a ball slamming against the wounds. The feeling would sting worse than it would normally for any regular volleyball player, and it figured it wasn’t normal practice for self-harm injuries to randomly start hurting in such a way. 

It was frustrating having to deal with his own chronic pain everyday then having to deal with the annoyance of wounds reopening or being added. 

Painkillers didn’t numb the phantom pains that you feel. The only way to eliminate phantom pains is by the soulmate experiencing the pain firsthand taking the pill. Since there was no way of contacting your soulmate to harp on them to take the damn pill–it was frustrating.  

After a year of constant pain Kiyoomi was fed up. He felt bad for his soulmate, yes. The pain he felt for his person, made his heart ache. He couldn’t imagine how low they must feel to be vandalizing their skin with angry scars. 

But he was royally pissed off at how insensitive they were. 

How much of an asshole could they be to be inflicting pain upon themselves and subsequently their soulmate without so much of a nod to the pill? That’s what it was for! If you knew you were to experience some kind of pain, you take the fucking pill. 

Modern day medicine didn’t come this far for Kiyoomi’s soulmate to be a fucking dick and make him suffer along with their self inflicted pain. It was like his soulmate was trying to punish him… Trying to tell him that they didn’t need him or didn’t want him. 

It was rude and quite frankly, fucked up. Kiyoomi was pissed. 

The anger only grew as the pain got more intense. His soulmate chose to make cuts that hurt more as time progressed. At some point it started to feel like hitting or punching became a regular form of self-harm for them as well.

Kiyoomi felt like a punching bag for his soulmate. A voodoo doll held by someone who hated him. And honestly? Kiyoomi was starting to resent them too. 

A few days before the All-Japan Youth Training Camp he was invited to, he felt the harshest cut to date. A splitting pain vertically up his left forearm caused him to fumble in practice. Gripping at his arm, he fell to the ground in pain. His team gathered around him in hushed whispers as he whimpered, clenching his fist and gritting his teeth to get through it. 

He tried reminding himself that it would end soon, the pain would stop soon…  

Motoya put a hand on his shoulder as he crouched down next to him, shooing away their teammates, “Kiyo, are you okay? Is it your soulmate?” He asked with a concerned frown. He knew Kiyoomi’s conclusion of the pain–not the process of how he got there but nonetheless he knew.

“Motherfucker split their fucking wrist open. It’s the middle of the day? What the fuck are they doing?” He gritted out. 

Motoya cringed at the thought, “Come on. Hurt too much to play?”

Kiyoomi nodded, “I want to go home,” He closed his eyes. He was slightly embarrassed for his reaction in front of his teammates but there wasn’t much he could do.

Despite the frustration and resentment he felt for his soulmate he did feel bad for whoever they were. Whatever happened felt serious–to the point where he felt stitches being poked through his skin. At least they were alive… 

It seemed to have deterred them from injuring such obvious body parts after the fact though, he didn’t know whether or not to be relieved. 

When Kiyoomi and Motoya made it to the training camp they marvelled at how many skilled players there were–though Kiyoomi would never admit as much aloud. 

He was surprised to see the absence of a player he highly expected. The setter from Inarizaki. He’s never met the boy in person or seen him play but he’s heard a lot and he was certain he would have been invited. 

The confusion from said missing player must’ve been a common confusion because the whole camp was gossiping about his absence. Apparently he was invited. He got sick a day before and wasn’t able to attend. Kiyoomi didn’t think anymore about it than he had to. He appreciated the mature call to respect other people’s health by distancing oneself and not spreading his germs–even if it meant giving up something that could mean a lot to his future in volleyball.

He was able to see the blonde setter playing during nationals and he could admit the man did have talent–despite Inarizaki losing to Karasuno–he kind of wished he was able to hit his sets. Maybe one day. 

He was, however, curious about why the man wore compression sleeves. He understood why some high level players wore them but it was less common for setters to wear them so he thought it was a little strange. He didn’t think much else of it though as he continued on with his day. 

The following year Kiyoomi wasn’t able to attend the training camp he was once again invited to; his shoulder having dislocated a week prior. He stayed home grumpily–pissed off that his injury happened at such an inconvenient time. 

As time passed, the enthusiasm Kiyoomi once had for meeting his soulmate had diminished. He cared less about his own as he watched friends and acquaintances all meet theirs throughout college. He grew apathetic as his friends teased him for being a soulmate hater. He leaned into the title, it wasn’t far off after all. 

The self-harm slowed down as Kiyoomi was in college. He was frustrated with the fact that his ignorant soulmate still didn’t bother taking the pills but there was still no way he could contact them to cuss them out, unfortunately. 

Kiyoomi grew and became more accepting of the possibility of never meeting his soulmate. He’s not the kind of person to initiate contact with other quiet people in a friendly way. He couldn’t imagine his soulmate was some outgoing, bubbly personality type if they were harming themselves in such a way, right? 

Even if he did see someone who might have potential to be his soulmate, he doesn’t know if he would react or respond in a particularly kind way to their advances. The more he thinks about his soulmate the more upset he gets. All the pent up anger from the many years of unnecessary pain pissed him off, he didn’t know how he would be able to ignore such a thing or forgive so easily. 

He graduated without any sign of his soulmate. The self-harming had stopped half way through his last year of college, well, the cutting at least. 

He signed to the Black Jackals not too long after graduation and moved into the shared house soon after. It was a big change which was something he often struggled with. 

He was stressed and unfortunately when his emotions were high he wasn’t always the most pleasant to be around. It was easy for others to get under his skin and his emotional regulation was something he knew he needed to work on. 

One teammate in particular seemed to like getting under his skin and he was starting to get fed up. He knew that the blonde was trying to be lighthearted and fun when he threw his jabs and jokes but Kiyoomi couldn’t handle it at the moment. 

He wasn’t proud of how he handled his anger, he snapped and the rejection on his setter’s face was obvious. He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth but he couldn’t take them back. 

Atsumu didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day; didn’t really give him any true interactions for a week. Kiyoomi felt like shit, mentally and physically. 

As great timing would have it, his soulmate decided it would be a great time to start self-harming again. So, on top of all the stress of physical change; moving to Osaka and joining a professional team; he had to deal with not only his own physical pain–which seemed to be flaring up–but he had to deal with his soulmate's painful thigh gashes, abdomen injuries and arm bruises. 

Kiyoomi had never cried more than he had that week. Everything was so overwhelming, he wanted to lock himself in his room and never leave but alas he had shit to do. He didn’t have time to be annoyed with his soulmate or pity himself. 

When Atsumu started talking to him once again, it was different. It was obvious that the man was trying to be on his best behaviour, trying to make sure nothing like what happened the other week would repeat itself. It pissed him off. 

Sure, the way he reacted was bad, he knew what he did was unreasonable but if he wasn’t as stressed when he snapped, those kinds of jokes–the bickering that Atsumu was attempting to lighten the mood with–would’ve been welcomed. 

A month flew by and Kiyoomi finally felt settled. He finally accepted the teams invite to dinner to which they cheered and picked a spot they believed he would like–he appreciated their considerations. 

During the meal he drank a bit which was likely the culprit for why his lips were looser than usual. 

As most group conversations eventually veered towards, soulmates were brought up, “Have you found your soulmate yet, Sakusa?” 

Kiyoomi scoffed and took a sip of his drink, “Nope,” he said shortly. 

Everyone at the table seemed a little surprised by his obvious strong feelings about the topic, “It’s alright!” Hinata said, “It’s hard finding your soulmate nowadays with that pill. It’s said that the pill might make the average age that people find their soulmate to rise by quite a lot. It hasn’t been out for long enough for accurate data to determine it but it makes sense! Don’t be upset about it! You could know your soulmate for years before you even know you’re soulmates!”

Kiyoomi shrugged, “The issue isn’t that my soulmate takes the pill. It’s that they never take the pill. They’re a selfish asshole who doesn’t care if they’re hurting me. ”

 “I mean, how often are they getting hurt?” Tomas asked curiously. 

Kiyoomi knew he couldn’t tell people about his soulmate’s self-harm addiction but it sucked not having people on his side about how much it sucked having a soulmate who constantly hurt him. 

“Definitely enough to be taking the fucking pill,” he muttered into his drink. 

Atsumu frowned, “What kind of prick doesn’t use the pill if they know they’re gonna be hurt in some way? I seriously don’t understand some people’s thought process,” He shook his head. 

Kiyoomi nodded, “Right? It’s common respect,” 

“What about your soulmate ‘Tsum? I’ve never heard you talk about yours?” Bokuto asked. 

Atsumu cringed, “I don’t think I have one,” Everyone at the table turned to him in shock and confusion, “Or maybe they died before their 16th? I’m not sure. I’ve never felt pain that wasn’t mine,” he shrugged. 

Kiyoomi didn’t hear much else of the conversation as he stared at Atsumu. He saw the sad look in his eyes as he talked about his soulmate, or lack thereof. 

He couldn’t help but wonder how his soulmate felt about not feeling his pain. He thought he was doing his soulmate a favour by not subjecting them to his constant pain but seeing Atsumu’s sad expression about not feeling his soulmate… He couldn’t help but wonder. 

The next few days Kiyoomi contemplated taking the pill everyday before he took it. 

He wished he knew what his soulmate was doing that specific day. He didn’t want to skip a day of his pill on a day where his soulmate was busy or had something important to do. He didn’t want to inconvenience them. He knew he had a grudge against them but a part of him still didn’t want to hurt them. 

The day Kiyoomi decided to skip the pills was on a weekend. He thought it was fair enough, most people don’t work on weekends, he wouldn’t be making his soulmate suffer a work day in pain… 

He himself, however, had to deal with a bunch of children that specific day. Some of the Black Jackals were chosen to make a surprise appearance at a volleyball camp where kids learn and grow their skills.

Five of them were chosen to go; Kiyoomi, Inunaki, Atsumu, Hinata and Bokuto. The facility was thirty minutes away so they met at the gym to ride together. 

Kiyoomi’s pain was tolerable today, which is another reason why he wasn’t too worried about skipping the pill. He hates when doctors ask him to rate his pain on a scale of one to ten–he has his own way of identifying the intensity of his pain on any given day. 

He always has some uncomfortable feeling in his body so his scale doesn’t start at no pain. It starts mild, some uncomfortable joint twinges and whatnot but overall it’s like a grace day for him. It was easiest to ignore so he took advantage of these days–days where he felt normal, like his pain wouldn’t restrict him as much. 

The second level on the scale was his average, everyday pain. It was the pain that he knew would just pass the threshold for soulmate pain given what he’s heard. He knew the pain was there, it floated around the back of his mind, ready to jump out and remind him at any time he was at rest. It would be shooting pains, or aching throughout the day. He masked his pain well as it would usually increase and ebb throughout the day.

The highest level of pain was crippling. Days like these weren’t often but when they did hit they were hard and taxing. If he could get out of bed he could barely handle standing for more than a few minutes, it hurt so much. If he was forced to go out and socialize he barely spoke, feeling as if he could burst into tears of frustration from how much pain he was in; his mind being consumed by his pain receptors going off the hook.  

Today he was floating in the lower to middle section of the second level. He knew his soulmate would be able to feel it, especially as he made his way to the meeting spot and he pivoted weirdly causing a shot of pain to the outside of his knee. His face remained stoic as the pain ripped through him, he was used to it by now. 

He walked closer to the group of four men and peeked in closer wondering why they were all surrounding Atsumu who seemed to be distraught. 

“What’s going on?” He asked casually. 

Atsumu looked up from where he sat on a wooden bench. He frowned at Kiyoomi and shrugged. 

“‘Tsum thinks his soulmate got run over,” Bokuto said. 

Kiyoomi looked horrified. 

Atsumu clicked his tongue, “That was an exaggeration, I don’t think they actually did,” he whined, “I’ve never felt them before and now the first time I do everything hurts?! Why?” He flopped his head into his hands. 

Kiyoomi nodded, not thinking much about it other than ‘Welcome to my life’ and ‘my soulmate is probably thinking the same thing’. 

“Well, suck it up. We have to teach children volleyball,” Kiyoomi grumbled, turning as his knee throbbed. 

Atsumu whimpered and clutched his own knee with a slight glare, “I’m gonna murder my soulmate,” 

The day progressed slowly. Kiyoomi’s pain worsened and eased up throughout the day but he stayed his neutral self and watched as Atsumu withered in pain from his own soulmate’s pain. 

He started to become slightly suspicious of Atsumu’s pain–at how ironic the timing matched up with his own. But there was no way they could be soulmates, right? Atsumu had expressed his disdain for people who don’t take the pill and it was obvious to Kiyoomi that his soulmate didn’t. Atsumu took the pill, Kiyoomi knew this, so it couldn’t be him. 

If he thought more about it–which he tried not to–some things eerily made sense from his own assumptions. Atsumu plays volleyball, something he’s pretty sure his soulmate plays. The pains from today alone made him very suspicious of whether or not this possibility was on the table or not. 

His soulmate self-harms–he can’t say for certain that Atsumu does but he’s never seen Atsumu’s arms or legs. Part of him is terrified to see the blonde’s skin. If he catches a glimpse of scarred arms he would have to face the possibility of Atsumu being his soulmate but he didn’t understand why the man would lie about the pill in that case. 

Kiyoomi pushed his thoughts aside, deciding not to deal with it. He wasn’t ready to confront his soulmate anyway. If it turned out to be Atsumu then the blonde would have to figure it out himself because there was no way in hell that Kiyoomi was going to bring it up. 

A few weeks passed and Kiyoomi was back to taking his pill everyday. Atsumu never complained about his soulmate's pain again. The knowledge scared him but he told himself that Atsumu just didn’t tell him because they weren’t that close. 

They were in Tokyo for a couple away games when it all came crashing down.

Kiyoomi and Atsumu were assigned the same hotel room. The first night was fine. Atsumu saw the excessive bottle of pills Kiyoomi had and scoffed, “Jeez, why’d ya need all those, Omi? You plan on breakin’ all yer bones?” 

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes as he unpacked his things, “I have chronic pain, idiot,” 

Atsumu was taken back by the new information, “Oh. Wait, what? So, what? You take em whenever yer hurtin’?” 

“I take them when I wake up and when I go to sleep,” He shrugged. 

“Those are the 24hr capsule ones though,” Atsumu inspected the bottle. 

“Just in case,” Kiyoomi muttered with a shrug. 

“Have ya been doin’ that since you’ve been 16?” Kiyoomi nodded in response, “Aren’tcha worried yer soulmate will be worried?” 

“I’m more worried of my soulmate being in pain. I don’t want them having to feel what I feel,” He shrugged. He hated sounding so vulnerable. 

Atsumu frowned sadly, “Isn’t the whole point t’be able t’feel how yer soulmate does?”

“Making my soulmate feel like hell is just cruel. If there’s a pill to limit my soulmate from feeling pain I’m taking it,” he said firmly, “Even if they wouldn’t do the same,” he whispered. 

“Omi…” 

Kiyoomi shook his head and brushed the blonde off, muttering about how he was going to go to sleep. Atsumu watched as he tucked himself in and turned over to face away from him. 

The second night Atsumu was coming down from a rough day. The game was a resounding loss for their team and it was clear to the whole team that Atsumu was taking it roughly. They tried to perk him up by inviting him out but he declined and withdrew, he chose to pack it in for the night and barely said a word as he made it back to the hotel room. 

Kiyoomi left him be, knowing that would want to be alone had he had such a rough go. The other team was picking on him all game, to the point Coach Foster made the decision to pull him during the third set. They had already lost the first two sets and were behind in the third. They were swept. 

Kiyoomi didn’t think much of Atsumu locking himself in the bathroom until his thigh started stinging. He felt his blood run cold as the familiar feeling of razor against skin began marking his soulmate's leg. He looked at the bathroom door, wondering for a moment if it truly could be Atsumu–if the blonde was passed that door, ripping open his skin. 

He felt his heart beating anxiously. If he was right… If Atsumu was his soulmate he had an opportunity to stop him from creating more scars. He could do something rather than sit around uselessly. 

When a particularly painful cut was felt he stood up with a grimace and made his way to the door quietly. He heard a sniffle and his heart clenched. He waited for another cut to be made, not wanting to startle the man when he possibly had the razor against his skin. 

When he felt the glide and sting he knocked, “Miya, I need the washroom,” he muttered. 

“Go to the lobby,” he heard a muffled reply. 

“Wh– I’m not going all the way down to the lobby when you’ve been in there for twenty minutes. Let me use the washroom, Miya,” He sighed. 

“Fuck off,” 

Kiyoomi was taken back by the response, anger bubbled inside him, “Just give me a couple minutes and you can get back to your sulking,”

He heard rummaging behind the closed door then felt pressure and harsh stinging which he assumed was the action of wiping or cleaning the open wounds. Kiyoomi closed his eyes sadly, hating how this was almost a confirmation for what he feared. A few minutes later the blonde pushed his way out of the bathroom and walked past him wordlessly. 

Kiyoomi sighed, trying to look at Atsumu’s face but the latter was already pulling covers over himself and facing away from him. When Kiyoomi walked into the bathroom he sat on the lip of the bathtub and looked at the ground. His breath hitched when his eyes landed on a drop of blood on the floor. Tears welled up in his eyes and he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. He needed to say something. He needed to talk to Atsumu. 

He walked out of the bathroom slowly and peeked his head around the corner to see the mound of blankets breathing heavily. He slowly made his way over to the blonde’s bed and sat on the edge of it. 

Atsumu froze upon feeling the weight of the bed cave slightly, “Wrong bed,” he muttered. 

“There’s blood in the bathroom,” Kiyoomi whispered. He tried to leave all the judgement and accusatory tone out of his tone when he spoke–trying to sound compassionate and caring. 

“Nosebleed,” Was the response he got, too quickly for his liking. 

Kiyoomi didn’t believe it for a second, “Why do you always wear long sleeves, Atsumu?” 

Atsumu’s breathing hitched as he dug his face more into the covers, “Stop it, Omi,” 

“Atsumu… Please…” He didn’t even know what he was asking for. 

“What do ya want, Omi? Huh? Want me t’tell ya how much of a fuck up I am? Maybe ya wanna know how gross I look under all m’layers?” 

“There’s a lot of things I want to ask, neither of those are my questions. I want to know if you need anything? First aid? I won’t judge you. Do you want a pill?” 

Atsumu lifted his head from the covers and had a confused look plastered all over his face, “Why do y’assume I haven’t taken a pill?” He seemed partially hurt by the insinuation. 

“I–” Kiyoomi shrugged, he didn’t know how to respond other than telling the man before him that he thinks they might be soulmates… But if Atsumu took a pill? Maybe his pills expired or he halved the dose making it ineffective? Kiyoomi could see Atsumu to be the kind of person to ignore the instructions of the pills and not realize how important the entire dose was. 

“Y’think I’m that shitty of a soulmate?” Atsumu’s whisper came out weak. He sounded heart broken. 

“No. That’s not what I’m saying, Atsumu. Just–” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know how he was supposed to bring this up. Should he even bring it up when Atsumu was in such a fragile state? 

“If yer done in the washroom then… Excuse me,” He pushed the covers off of him to make his way back to the bathroom. 

“Atsumu. Wait. Please,” He practically begged. 

“What, Kiyoomi?” He threw his hands up in frustration. 

The full name threw Kiyoomi for a loop but he just looked back at Atsumu with a straight face. 

“I think you’re my soulmate,” he whispered, throwing caution to the wind. 

Atsumu looked as if he stopped breathing. Suddenly tears were running down his cheeks, “No,” he whispered, “No… No… What? What do ya mean? That–” His breathing was jagged and rough. 

“Atsumu…”

The blonde turned away from him and Kiyoomi heard his breath hitch, “No…”

Kiyoomi stood up and slowly made his way over to Atsumu who seemed frozen in place, “Can we clean up your thighs?” he asked quietly. 

That was all it took for Atsumu to completely break down. He felt his knees buckle as sobs fell from his mouth along with undecipherable apologies. Kiyoomi couldn’t help but wrap his arms around him, ignoring the snot and tears seeping into his shirt, he held the man up and ran his hand through the dyed hair. 

Kiyoomi guided them to the bathroom and sat Atsumu on the closed lid of the toilet, crouching in front of him between his knees. He was careful not to place any weight or pressure on his thighs where the cuts were but he had his hands resting on his knees just below. When Atsumu realized this the sobs which just died down threatened to start up again. 

“Omi, ‘m so sorry,” His eyes were so sad it broke Kiyoomi’s heart. 

“Stop it,” he muttered, reaching up to wipe some tears off of his face. It only caused several more to fall, “Can you take these off so we can clean them? I know you didn’t clean them well. You ran out of the bathroom quickly after your last one…” 

Atsumu shook his head in protest and wiped his own face with the back of his hand, “I don’t want ya t’see,” 

“It won’t bother me. Let me help you,” 

“I can feel them bleedin’, it’s gross,” he mumbled, looking at the ground in shame. 

Kiyoomi looked down at Atsumu’s thighs. He was wearing black sweatpants so there was no way he could see any blood through the material, “Please, Atsu,” 

Atsumu closed his eyes and breathed out shakily. He shooed Kiyoomi’s hands off his knees and stood up, tremors in his legs. He hooked his thumbs in his pants and breathed out slowly before sliding them down leaving him in his boxers. 

He looked anywhere but Kiyoomi’s face, not wanting to see the man’s reaction–not wanting to see his soulmate’s reaction. 

“Let’s take off these gauzes, okay?” Kiyoomi’s voice was the softest that Atsumu has ever heard it, it made him sick. 

Atsumu looked down to his own thighs and saw his horrible attempts at patching up his wounds. He used medical tape and gauze for some of the deeper cuts but left the other ones to bleed freely in his sweats since he didn’t have time with Kiyoomi knocking on the door. There was dried, matted blood spread all over his thigh along with a few fresh beads of blood blooming from some cuts. 

He had to hold back a sick laugh at how pathetic he felt. He hated that this was how Kiyoomi was seeing him. All bloody and sliced up. A tear fell from his eye onto his thigh, mixing with his blood. He sniffled and looked up, avoiding Kiyoomi looking up at him. 

“Atsumu, please don’t feel embarrassed or ashamed, I just want to help you,” 

“I jus’ wanna put my fuckin’ pants on,” he scoffed out a laugh he almost choked on. 

“Okay. Let me get this done then, okay?” Kiyoomi got to work. He peeled off the gauze and wiped up the dried blood. He cleaned the wounds and when they were mostly finished bleeding Kiyoomi patched them up.

Atsumu looked down at the work Kiyoomi had done, “Thank you…” he whispered. Kiyoomi ran his hands gently on the outside of his thighs. Atsumu looked at him wearily. Kiyoomi kept his eye contact before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on his thigh just above his knee. 

Before Atsumu could say anything–his shock from the tiny action causing him to freeze–Kiyoomi stood up and held out a hand, “Let’s go talk,” Atsumu slowly placed his hand in the outstretched one and let himself be pulled up. He was about to take a step but remembered his pants were still around his ankles. 

After pulling up his sweatpants they made their way to the main room of the hotel room and sat facing each other on their respective beds. Atsumu fiddled nervously with the hemming of the bed while Kiyoomi observed him closely. 

“Do you want to talk about what caused your relapse?” 

Atsumu shut his eyes and sighed, “No. It’s stupid,” 

Kiyoomi raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, “Okay then,” 

“I don’t understand how ya knew it was me…” Atsumu shook his head. 

Kiyoomi refrained from scoffing, he knew it would be insensitive considering the situation they were currently in but was he seriously confused when it was obvious he was doing something wrong when it came to taking his pills? 

“The one day I didn’t take my pill you felt your soulmate for the first time,” Kiyoomi recalled. Atsumu’s mouth dropped open in realization, “That was the first time I thought it might have been a possibility but I wasn’t sure,” 

“Why didn’t ya say anythin’?” 

“Atsumu. You’ve said you don’t like that some soulmates don’t take the pill. I’ve never not felt your pain. I didn’t think you’d be a hypocrite,” The words came out much harsher than they meant to. Kiyoomi’s mouth snapped shut as soon as they fell out of his mouth and his eyes widened slightly. 

Atsumu’s face flashed of hurt before he looked down, “I’m not. I do take the pill. I dunno why ya felt it all, I swear, Omi. I never wanted ya t’feel my– the stuff I did to myself… That wasn’t for ya…” 

Kiyoomi looked down as well, his frustration and sadness from the pain he was subjected to all these years begging to be let out to the only one who would actually understand, “It felt like you wanted me to feel it all. Like you hated me or wanted to punish me,” 

“God, no. Fuck,” Atsumu’s eyes begged Kiyoomi to believe him, believe that his pain was solely a means for self punishment, it was never intended to hurt his soulmate. 

Kiyoomi knew it was mean that he brought this up when Atsumu was already feeling like shit but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. All he could imagine was the phantom razors against his skin. The most painful one dragging up his forearm… 

“Can I see your forearm?” Kiyoomi whispered. He wanted to see what the damage looked like. He needed to see the physical effect of the pain he endured. 

Atsumu winced at the question, “What?” 

“Your left forearm. Let me see it,” He pointed to the covered arm.

Atsumu clutched onto the sleeve as if he was scared that it would roll up by itself, “No…”

“Let me see the cut you had stitched up,” 

Atsumu looked so defeated when the words left his mouth, “You weren’t supposed to feel that,” 

Kiyoomi shrugged and held out his hand for Atsumu’s arm. The blonde swallowed hard but eventually placed his trembling hand in Kiyoomi’s and let the man roll up his sleeve. When his arm was exposed he cringed at the sight of his own scars.

He saw them everyday but seeing them now with the knowledge that his soulmate was looking at them–that his soulmate had felt them when they were made–made him sick. 

Kiyoomi took in the sight of the scarred skin. So this is the result of all he’s felt the past years. His eyes were drawn to the vertical scar and he felt his heart sink. His hand unconsciously reached out to trace it, Atsumu flinching slightly at the touch. 

“Was this…?” He questioned. 

Atsumu nodded slowly, knowing the rest of the question without the words. 

“Atsumu…” 

The blonde pulled his arm away from his grip, “Are ya happy now?” he yanked down his sleeve and crossed his arms. 

“Did you split the pill or something? I don’t understand why I felt everything…” Kiyoomi thought out loud. 

Atsumu rolled his eyes, “No, I took it as directed. I’m not an idiot,” Kiyoomi raised his eyebrow, “Hey!” Atsumu pouted. 

Kiyoomi chuckled lightly before moving to Atsumu’s bed, sitting next to him, “You know… I had a pretty big grudge against my soulmate. I thought it would be impossible for me to forgive them for everything they put me through. 

“I already struggle with chronic pain. Everyday I was dealing with my own physical burdens… When I started getting phantom injuries, repeatedly, constantly, purposefully…

“It was exhausting. It felt like a punishment but I didn’t even know what for. 

“I used to love the thought of soulmates. My parents are so in love it’s sickening. Knowing there is someone out there made for you, that fits you and compliments you so well… Understands you on a level that no one else will ever get… It’s truly surreal. 

“I started to feel naive–like I was an idiot for loving someone I didn’t know. The punishment was my soulmate hating my existence. Wanting nothing to do with me so they took it out on themselves just to get to me…

“I was so angry,” Kiyoomi sighed. He looked up at Atsumu and saw tears rolling down the blonde's cheeks. He turned his body so he was facing him better as he cradled the man's face in his hands, forcing him to look at him, “I think I was naive… Naive for thinking I could truly be mad at my soulmate,” 

“You should be,” Atsumu whispered, his cheeks squished between Kiyoomi’s hands made the taller man swoon and his heart flutter. 

“Why would I be mad for something they couldn’t help? They said that they took the pill, right? If it didn’t work then it was no fault of their own… Just because they turned to a painful way of coping so they could survive doesn’t mean they should be reprimanded for such. They did what they needed to get through,” 

“Omi…” Atsumu whined, trying to pull away and hide his face. Kiyoomi let go and watched sadly as Atsumu wiped his face. 

Kiyoomi crawled into Atsumu’s bed ignoring the confused look he got. He patted the empty spot next to him, urging the blonde to fill it. Hesitantly Atsumu laid down, tucking his head on his shoulder, holding down a gasp as a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders to pull him in closer, “We can talk more later, okay, soulmate?” He murmured into Atsumu’s hair as he placed a gentle kiss. 

Atsumu shivered at the tone and gentleness, he nodded and curled into Kiyoomi’s body heat, “Okay,” he whispered, “Okay, Omi,” He closed his eyes as he felt light, soothing scratches run up and down his back.