chapter 7

Behave.

That’s the last thing Oikawa said when he sent Atsumu and Kiyoomi off to Osaka. He knew them, sensed whatever tension this was between them, warned them that they could easily fuck everything up if they didn't get a hold of themselves.

So Atsumu bit his tongue before he uttered things he could genuinely regret. He forced his gaze to the side because looking at Sakusa would mean he might lose his mind. Keeping quiet and pretending nothing happened the night before is probably the only reasonable thing he can do right now.

Because it drives him nuts.

The threat, being voluntarily at the mercy, Sakusa’s blissed-out expression, the things Atsumu triggered in him... He was the one Sakusa yearned for. He is responsible for everything that happened last night. He did this to Sakusa.

Atsumu inhales sharply.

All of this should have happened once and gotten out of his system. The pent-up energy should have evaporated and Atsumu should be able to focus perfectly fine. But now he's sitting here for 10 hours of driving with the man who won't give him a moment's peace. Because all Atsumu can do is watch him, want him, crave him.

But he can't get him. And he shouldn't want to.

Yet he does.

“We're almost there,” Sakusa breaks the silence after what feels like an eternity. Perhaps it was. Atsumu isn't even sure if they've talked at all today.

They met up early. Oikawa wanted them both to come to the headquarters this morning to inform them of everything that has been carried on to him. The current plan is to meet with Meian Shūgo, an independent informant, living in Osaka. He is an acquaintance of Oikawa, one whom he trusts but is always somewhat wary of. After all, people in Osaka don't necessarily think very highly of Yakuza.

Atsumu knows the drill. It's the same story all over Hyogo.

Supposedly, Meian gathered information that could lead them to Osamu, or at least give them a hint that would reveal his current location. It could be nothing, or it could be everything. But what else can Atsumu do but hope? That's the only thing left for him to do these days, so he clings to anything that’s given to him.

Too much time has passed anyway. He must find Osamu soon.

Atsumu frowns as Sakusa pulls into an underground garage of a high-rise building. He drives to a level requiring a fingerprint scan to get in and parks next to cars at least as obnoxious as his own. Atsumu takes in his surroundings with wide eyes.

There are at least 20 or 30 sports cars here, one more expensive than the other. Eventually, Atsumu's eyes catch a sports bike standing in a spot away from the cars. The seat's lacquer gleams in neon green, entwined with deep black and a white font gracing 'Yamaha'. Just this level here must cost a fortune.

Sakusa kills the engine and gets out of the car, Atsumu following him suit. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his red jacket and follows Sakusa toward an elevator with a skeptical look on his face. As Sakusa types in a code and the doors open for them to enter, Atsumu tilts his head and hesitates.

“Shouldn't we meet Meian at the Hozen-ji Temple? I'm pretty sure that's not the way.”

Sakusa stares at him, dark eyes boring through Atsumu's gaze. It makes him shiver.

“I need to change,” Sakusa explains and Atsumu’s frown deepens. Sakusa sighs. “Like this, it's easy to tell I belong to Yakuza. That would be too dangerous. I have some of my things stored in an apartment some floors up. Come with me to get them or stay here. I don't care what you do but stop blocking the damn door.”

Atsumu raises an eyebrow and enters the elevator. He wonders, “You own an apartment? In Osaka?”

Sakusa frowns, seeming somehow peeved. He replies, “It belongs to a friend.”

Atsumu snorts. “Imaginary friends don't count, Omi-Omi.”

He reaps a glare from Sakusa, livid and murderous.

The door behind Atsumu closes and he leans against it, peering at him with half-lidded eyes and a smug grin. Sakusa always seems to be so indifferent and collected, and since Atsumu has seen what he looks like when his façade crumbles, he can't help but want to break it down completely.

He has the urge to coax some emotions out of him, needs to see what it looks like when Sakusa breaks. Atsumu wants to get under his skin, wants to know what it's like when Sakusa lets go. God, it drives him crazy, he needs to... needs to know what Sakusa's touch feels like. Must know what his mouth tastes like.

Atsumu's grin disappears, he swallows hard.

He shouldn’t. And Sakusa would never.

The elevator dings and snaps Atsumu out of his thoughts. They get out and step in front of a door, where Sakusa types in another code. Atsumu looks around warily and finds a nameplate next to the door that reads ‘Utsui’. Whomever this friend of Sakusa's is must be pretty shady.

After a sound of clicking, which was the door unlocking, the two enter the apartment. They take off their shoes and while Sakusa disappears into the bathroom to wash his hands, Atsumu enters further into the apartment and starts looking around.

It is clean. Too clean. Too neat. Too tidy.

Atsumu is pretty sure no one lives in here.

He steps into the bedroom and encounters a bed that is impeccably made. By now at the latest, Atsumu is sure that the apartment must be empty. Nobody goes in and out of here every day and can possibly have the nerve to leave his apartment so neat. Unless this friend is just as much of a neat freak as Sakusa is.

Sakusa joins him and walks to the closet, opening it and then crouching down to pull something out of the base. He ignores that Atsumu is peering over his shoulder, curious about what he's doing. When Sakusa finally withdraws a black sniper rifle from a bag, Atsumu's eyes widen.

“What the fuck, Omi?” He wonders, more to himself than actually talking to Sakusa.

“Wait outside until I have changed.” Sakusa's gaze is fixed on the sniper rifle, carefully placing it on the bed behind him.

“What, yer getting shy now? It's not like I haven't already seen yer di—”

“Miya.” Sakusa tilts his head, glaring furiously.

Atsumu throws up his hands in surrender and takes a few steps back. “Okay okay, but don't think ya don't have ta explain this to me later.” His gaze drops to the weapon.

“I don't have to explain anything to you, except perhaps how to mind your own business.”

Atsumu snorts. “The tale of storing some clothes in a ‘friend's apartment’ might have satisfied me, Omi, but the fact that yer hiding a gun in here, a damn sniper rifle that is, kinda brings up some questions, ya know.”

“Which I'm not willing to answer for you.”

“Does Oikawa know about this?”

Sakusa flinches for a split second, squinting his eyes and clenching his jaw.

Oh. So, he doesn't know. Interesting.

“Get out,” Sakusa growls.

Atsumu thinks about the cracks in his façade.

Atsumu fiddles with his phone while he waits for Sakusa. Once again, he didn't call Kita and instead shot him a message that he was on his way back home and will stop by his bar as soon as he arrives. No reply from Kita ensued, but an uneasy feeling in Atsumu’s gut did.

He knows he's been avoiding Kita for too long. He knows that he's been avoiding everyone from Inarizaki for too long. But he couldn't help it. The shame of losing Osamu and not being able to find him again consumes him. He is already dreading seeing them all, his family, soon again.

Will Suna come too?

Atsumu's gaze snaps up as the bedroom door opens. He hitches a breath as Sakusa steps out, and there was no trace of a snooty mobster left. The expensive suit and his signature turtleneck are set aside.

Instead, he is dressed in a pair of black pants that were ripped open just above his knee on the left side, the scraps of fabric held together only by single threads. Above that, a dark olive green strap loops around his thigh, reaching the waistband of his pants where his gun is attached.

Sakusa wears black leather gloves that gleam in the moonlight's glow, black boots that reach over the fabric of his pants, and a green sweatshirt jacket that looks a little too big even on him. Atsumu spots a black windbreaker accented with single neon green stripes over the sweatshirt jacket, the right sleeve is slipped down his shoulder so that it's lingering in the crook of his arm.

Underneath the jackets, Sakusa wears a black sweater with various pockets all of which could easily stash some knives, embellished with the same neon green as on the windbreaker. Atsumu's eyes flit up and notice that half of Sakusa's face is hidden in the collar of that sweater, large enough to obviate the need for a mask.

Atsumu blinks a few times, only realizing now what that means. Sakusa wears combat gear. And holy shit, he's actually not wearing a mask. Sakusa looks so cool and so damn hot and just... like a fucking assassin.

What the fuck...

“Let's go,” he says unconcernedly and walks to the door. Atsumu notices that his sniper rifle is slung over Sakusa's left shoulder, but he can't get a word past his lips. No snarky comment. No dumb insult. Nothing. Only gaping. “Meian is waiting.”

Right. They need to meet Meian. Atsumu can't stop staring.

“Yeah,” is all he can get past his lips, quietly and reverently. Sakusa is a handsome man. This isn't news to Atsumu, he's dealt with handsome men before, he's one himself after all. But why does it throw him off so much when it comes to this bastard? Why does Sakusa make him so nervous? Why is he looking at him so intensely? Atsumu has to fight the blush on his cheeks.

He was a fool to think he would get that shit out of his system. The urge to break down Sakusa's walls grew only stronger.

When they arrive back down in the garage, Sakusa doesn't head for his car, no, but for the motorcycle that Atsumu spotted earlier. Sakusa swings the strap of his sniper rifle over his head, so it doesn't slip off his back, walks to a box where the vehicle is parked, and pulls out two helmets, tossing one of them into Atsumu's hands. The assassin blinks dumbfounded.

“Hold on to me,” Sakusa says before putting on his own black helmet. “And stick to my movements. Unless you want us to die.”

Atsumu swallows thickly, forcing a mischievous grin on his face to cover his astonishment. “Yer full of surprises, Omi. What's coming next? Will ya grant me one more wish?”

All Atsumu can perceive through the visor is the fierce look on Sakusa's face. “Shut up, Miya, and let's get this over with as quickly as possible.”

Maybe they'll agree on that for once.

Sakusa pulls out a pair of black fingerless gloves from the box and throws them to Atsumu as well. “Put them on. It gets too cold if you don't.”

Atsumu blinks a little too often and frowns but does what the bastard tells him to do. It's winter, it's cold, and it gets even colder when they ride the bike. Why does he care how Atsumu might feel?

As soon as he slips into the fabric his doubts and thoughts dissolve and all Atsumu can think about is how damn soft these gloves are.

Sakusa swings one leg over and adjusts his seat on the bike so that he's sitting comfortably. Atsumu joins him and for a moment his brain stops working. Only now does he realize how close he is to Sakusa. Only now does he understand that he will, must touch him, despite having too many layers of clothing between his palm and Sakusa's skin.

“Okay handsome, now how am I supposed to hold onto you? D’ya want me to put my arms around yer waist and snuggle close to ya? I can do that easy-peasy,” Atsumu half-jokes, his tone is teasing but Sakusa is undeterred.

“Maybe you should stop watching so many romcoms, Miya. That would make it hard to steer and we'd lose balance too. Just put your palms on either side of my waist.”

Put your—what?!

Atsumu’s brain short circuits, he actually expected to hold onto Sakusa's clothes. So now the bastard really wants Atsumu to touch him? Touch him. Is that his permission? The chance to get that close to him?

“Miya,” Sakusa mutters annoyed as he peeks over his shoulder.

“You want me to touch you?” Atsumu blurts, dumbfounded.

“My waist.”

“Yer—”

Atsumu gulps. His waist. It's not like it's anything special. Atsumu has touched plenty of waists. Some to have fun with, some to kill. Sakusa's waist might be somewhere in between. It's nothing special. Nothing special. His waist. Not special...

Atsumu fights the urge to release a groan as his palms nestle against Sakusa's body. Even with three layers of clothes, Atsumu feels how defined his it is. Even with three layers of clothes, Atsumu realizes how tiny it is.

It's pretty damn special. So perfect in his hands.

“Ready?”

“Y-Yeah”, Atsumu sputters like an idiot.

And then they're off, and Atsumu's grip tightens as Sakusa accelerates.

It’s unnatural but Atsumu is an excellent backseat driver. He’s behaving himself and follows Sakusa along, isn’t overly pushy or demanding, and basks in the sensation of freedom as Sakusa keeps driving like a maniac. Atsumu clearly enjoys this. Maybe a little too much.

Especially because it feels so intimate; Atsumu is molded into Sakusa’s back. It’s like a dance that’s only known by them, involving trust and teamwork at a physical, bone-deep level that skips right past the conscious intellect. A taste of freedom. A spark to feel alive.

Atsumu can feel the cool humid air rolling down from under a blossomed hillside. He can smell the road dust, the oil, the herby scents of weeds and wildflowers on the roadside. The river they’re driving near, the food of the alleys, the scent of Sakusa in the breeze passing by.

Sweet and mysterious. Tempting and dangerous.

He wants. Oh, Atsumu wants so bad.

It's dark when they arrive at the Hozen-ji Temple, the place lit only by lanterns and lights from the stores. It's beautiful, soothing.

They get off the bike and put their helmets on the seat. A figure with mid-length, slicked-back hair leans against the wall across from them, taking a drag from his cigarette. He is quite tall and has a sturdy build. Sakusa walks right up to him and Atsumu is sure this must be Meian Shūgo.

“Sakusa,” he says as he pushes the smoke from his lungs.

“Meian,” Sakusa replies with a nod.

“And Miya Atsumu, I suppose?” His gaze is now fixed on the blonde. Atsumu nods. "Good," Meian flicks the cigarette aside and stomps it out.

“What do you have for us?” Sakusa asks, his voice even.

“What are you offering me?” Meian smirks.

“Anything you want.”

“Oh?” Meian raises a brow and his grin widens. “Oikawa is that serious?”

“That's why I'm here,” Sakusa replies unfazed.

Meian nods. “I see.”

“So?” Sakusa raises his eyebrows expectantly. Meian's eyes light up.

“A group of former henchmen of various Yakuza. They want to set up something, think they own Dōtonbori. Eliminate them. I don't need these rats in here.”

Atsumu knows very well that Meian doesn't just refer to these people, but to Yakuza in general.

Sakusa nods. “Consider it done.”

Meian smirks and pulls out another cigarette. “Good.” He sticks it between his lips and offers his lighter to Atsumu, curling the corner of his mouth up in a lopsided smile, expecting Atsumu to light it for him. The latter snorts but pulls his hands out of his jacket pocket and does what Meian requests wordlessly. Atsumu figured it was better not to have him against them.

“Ever heard of Noriaki?” Meian asks, and Sakusa frowns.

“Daishō's man. Even one he's quite close to. Yes, why?”

“Rumor has it that he was traveling with the one you are looking for.”

“Osamu?” Atsumu frowns, swallowing hard. “Osamu is here?”

“I don't know about that, kid. But Noriaki still is. Find him and you might find this Osamu of yours too,” Meian explains.

Atsumu frowns and pulls his eyebrows together. His stomach is churning, his throat is getting dry. Atsumu feels his heartbeat hammering in his throat, feels dizzy, his body trembling. Is it true? Did he finally find Osamu?

“Where is Noriaki now?” Sakusa asks as he notices Atsumu is too caught up in his head.

Meian laughs. “It would be too easy if I knew. No idea. In Osaka or somewhere in Hyogo prefecture, but where exactly you have to find out yourself.”

Sakusa nods and then clarifies, “You understand we'll take care of Noriaki first before I handle things in Dōtonbori?”

Meian grins. “Of course.”

“Good.” Sakusa frowns and examines Atsumu. He can feel Sakusa's gaze on him, but he can't tear his thoughts away from Osamu. Not now that he knows he is so close. So, Sakusa turns away and walks back to the bike, not paying Atsumu another glance. He murmurs, “Let's go, Miya.”

And Atsumu has only one thought:

Osamu... are you here?

Being back in Inarizaki is... strange.

It's the first time in almost over a year that Atsumu can see the stars again, hanging in the beauty of the night. There is no light from a big city polluting the sky, just single lanterns shining dimly and far enough away from each other to not be too bright. Atsumu takes a deep breath. He would lie if he said he didn't miss living in the countryside.

Sakusa parked the motorcycle somewhat away from the center so that they wouldn't draw attention to themselves. Ever since Osamu disappeared, the assassins here have gotten a little cautious, to say the least. So now they walk silently through the dark alleys, through streets covered with powdery snow. Atsumu thinks about his dream.

“Miya,” Sakusa rips him out of his thoughts. “If you start letting your mind drift again, I will let you die.”

Atsumu scoffs. “It’s cute that you think I need yer help defending myself, Omi-Omi.”

Sakusa shoots him a look that makes Atsumu blush. Wasn’t he the one who claimed the bastard’s help to clear his mind? Wasn’t Atsumu the one who was already saved twice by the goon?

Atsumu tries to wave it off and distract from the topic as they kept on walking.

“Anyway… are we gonna talk about it or act like it never happened,” Atsumu says, looking with raised brows at the weapon on Sakusa’s back that was impossible not to notice; a fucking sniper rifle.

“No, we’re not going to talk about it. It would do the universe justice if you don’t open your mouth right now... or ever,” Sakusa bites back annoyed, not giving Atsumu a glance.

“I’ll have ya know that my voice is a necessity to keep ya from taking yer own life every night, Omi-kun. It’s okay to admit, ya know?”

“I’d rather take my own life any time of the day if it means not hearing you utter another word.”

Atsumu chuckles. “Feel free to die whenever, just not until ya tell me why you have a huge ass fucking sniper rifle and what the hell ya would need it for?!”

Sakusa stops and scowls at Atsumu. His eyes are narrowed, a vein is popping up on his temple. Whether he is irritated with Atsumu? No. Not at all.

“It comes as no surprise that it takes this big of a fucking gun to shut you up. One shot is enough to assure humanity that you never exist again,” Sakusa snaps and Atsumu can’t help but smirk.

“Ya sure know how to flatter a guy, huh, Omi-kun? What's next on the agenda? Telling me how pretty I look covered in blood? ‘Cause I sure think ya would.”

And when Atsumu catches the blush sprouting on Sakusa’s cheeks, he remembers their shared night from yesterday and all the things they did. Atsumu’s smirk fades, he swallows and ignores the dull feeling in his stomach.

He must be wrong. It must be the cold coloring Sakusa’s face in a pretty pink. Never would these things ever affect either him or Sakusa. Never. Neither of them cares. Not Sakusa and certainly not Atsumu.

Right?

“Blood contains a huge amount of get a life, Miya, which would look nothing but pathetic on you,” Sakusa quips.

Atsumu rolls his eyes and keeps on walking, averting his gaze from the goon to escape and fight his own blush. He continues babbling, “Blood also contains protein, which yer lanky ass seems to be lacking.”

“I'm surprised a brain-dead moron like you even knows anything about blood, let alone what it contains.”

“It’s common sense,” Atsumu smirks, catching Sakusa’s eyes. The latter hums. “You lack that, and all other things as well.”

Atsumu can’t help but chuckle, raising his brows comically as he keeps on talking. “It sure as hell didn’t seem like that when I was told to come over ‘cause you were so worked up.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Miya.” Sakusa tries to keep a cool face but Atsumu can see it again. The way his façade is crumbling. Little by little. “You don’t have that kind of influence on me.”

“Mhmm, sure,” Atsumu hums amused. “Not what sweet little Omi-junior thought.”

Sakusa stops, once again, and grimaces in annoyance and disgust.

“Miya,” he says evenly. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Uh-huh… yeah. Not gonna happen,” Atsumu clarifies. Then continues persistently, “So the sniper…”

“Oh my God…” Sakusa sighs exasperatedly and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s a fucking sniper rifle, Miya, not some Elden Ring boss with a hidden lore and treasure behind it, stop asking.”

“Oh, dear almighty Omi-kun, I kneel before ya as I beg ya to enlighten me as to why yer dragging such a killer weapon out of yer lovely friend's chamber.”

“You do not kneel,” Sakusa states. Fair point.

“Yer right, I would never do that for you,” Atsumu grins. “So?”

“You won't give up, will you?”

“Nope.”

Sakusa exhales deeply, closes his eyes, and throws his head back. The collar of his sweater slips off his face, exposing his beautiful lips. They are puckered into a kissable pout once he brings his head back to seek Atsumu’s golden eyes.

Atsumu wants. Oh, he wants...

“Come here,” Sakusa demands, holding his gaze. His dark eyes are ominous and cold and fearsome, but Atsumu doesn't let them faze him one bit.

Instead, he steps in front of Sakusa and peers up at him, sucking in a startled breath as he leans in, feeling his body heat. Sakusa's lips are right next to Atsumu's ears as he whispers.

“To kill you, Miya.” His voice is low and sultry, sending chills up Atsumu’s spine. Breath clashes against skin that wants to be kissed. “To drill bullet after bullet through your pea-sized brain and watch your body fall lifeless to the ground. Because you won't see me and you won't hear me until it's too late and you wish you heard a shot before it hits you.”

Atsumu shudders, and if it hadn't pissed him off to know Sakusa thinks so little of his abilities, this would be definitely quite entertaining. But, once again, Sakusa underestimates him and it bugs him. Because no one ever underestimates him. Not Atsumu.

He scowls at Sakusa as he takes a step back to look up into his eyes. Their faces, bodies, are close. Too close.

Atsumu's gaze slides to Sakusa's lips before he forces it back to his eyes. The way Sakusa clenches his jaw doesn't go unnoticed by Atsumu. Small cracks: the façade is crumbling. Little by little. Piece by piece. Atsumu wants. Atsumu wants so badly. He needs...

“That’s a lot of bullshit, Omi.”

“Here’s a better load of shit, ‘Tsumu.”

Both Sakusa and Atsumu whip their heads around, startled off at the sudden deep and clearly irritated voice. Their hands are immediately on their weapons, but the moment Atsumu lays his eyes on who was walking behind them, he instantly loosens his grip on Osamu's knife. His heart slips into the pit of his stomach, his gaze softens.

“Rin,” Atsumu whispers breathlessly because holy shit, how long has it been? He knits his brows together but tries to play it cool. “Geez, Sunarin… had a fight with an ugly-looking Tibetan fox?”

Why are you covered in scars?

If Suna hadn't rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, Atsumu wouldn't have noticed. They must be all over his body. Small cuts split his skin, some of them presumably deep enough to stay permanently.

Atsumu frowns since it was unlike Rin to act so recklessly. He's nothing like Atsumu, no. Rin's fighting style is similar to that of Osamu, always acting mindfully and not letting anyone get near him.

So how could this happen?

“A dear Miya sent three lovely assassins my way for whatever goddamn reason. Pretty sure Sir David isn’t the one who decided the Tibetans should go extinct, bastard. What the fuck is wrong with you?! So much for going on missions.”

Oh, he’s pissed.

“Well, hello to ya too, asshole.” Atsumu squints his eyes, he has no clue what Suna is talking about. “Can ya please enlighten me on what the fuck you mean, my dear Rin-ta-rō?”

Just in front of him, Suna comes to a halt and fists his hand into the collar of his jacket, pulling him up. Atsumu grasps his wrists, holding Suna's furious gaze. Suna grits his teeth.

“You could have delivered me that fucking message yourself, coward.”

Atsumu frowns. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“At my family's grave? Seriously, Atsumu? The kind greetings that I should fuck off from finding Osamu?”

Atsumu's eyes search Suna's, darting back and forth as if to find clarification for his confusion. Suna scoffs and pushes Atsumu away, backing off and passing Sakusa as he heads towards Kita's bar. Sakusa stares at him with at least as much confusion as Atsumu.

“Hey!” The blonde yells. “Suna, what the fuck?! Talk to me! What's going on?!”

Suna stops, glaring at Atsumu over his shoulder. “You tell me, ‘Tsumu.”

“No. Nuh-uh. Fuck you, don’t gimme that. I have no idea what yer talkin’ about!” Atsumu explains desperately while approaching him. He steps in front of Suna and stares deeply into his eyes, frowning before placing his hands on his shoulders. “What happened?”

Suna is mad. Atsumu understands that. He would be too if he would look like his best friend, covered in scars. But Suna is mad at him for whatever reason and Atsumu doesn't understand what on earth he did when they haven't seen each other in a year. So, how can he be blamed for this?

Suna’s expression softens slowly, he takes a deep breath. He must realize that Atsumu is telling the truth. He is indeed completely clueless.

“I was at my family's grave in Aichi last week. Three assassins were waiting there to take me out. At least, they had the fucking decency to wait until I left.”

None of them, with the exception of Atsumu perhaps, would ever walk around without a weapon, be it the smallest knife. But each of them possessed something with which they were unbeatable, and for Suna, it was his bow and arrow.

In Aichi, the home of Suna's family before he came to Inarizaki, is the only place in Japan where he dares not to carry this weapon around. There, he forgets for five minutes that he is an assassin. Forgets how dangerous his life has become.

Not many people know about this, in fact, only the inner circle of Inarizaki. So, him being attacked there of all places is truly weird.

“Fuck, Rin...” Atsumu swallows thickly.

Suna snorts. “Yeah, fuck indeed. They told me to give up looking for Osamu. And when I asked who sent them, one of them just grinned stupidly at me and said 'Miya, of course'.”

Atsumu's heart slips into the pit of his stomach, his eyes widen. “It wasn't me,” he clarifies. His throat is dry. “He was lying.”

“Well, did he?” Suna narrows his eyes, his voice accusing, and it makes Atsumu angry. He lets his hands slip from Suna's shoulders and shoves them back into his jacket pockets.

“What the hell would I get out of it?”

“You tell me, Tsumu.”

Now Atsumu is starting to get pissed. At this moment, all he wants is to actually kill Sunarin.

Frustrated, Atsumu rummages in a pocket attached to his pants for something, meanwhile holding Suna's irritated look. He doesn't believe his words? Fine. Then he will show him why he better should.

When Atsumu finds what he was looking for, he yanks Rin's hand toward him and forces the open palm up, letting the item slide into Suna's grasp. For a split second Suna’s eyes widen, then his gaze snaps back to Atsumu and all he can do is frown.

“Two years ‘n’ that's all I have, Sunarin,” Atsumu tells him pissed off. Fed up with himself and with Suna and somewhere deep inside also with Sakusa. Actually, not that deep inside. “If I wanted ya to stop lookin’ for ‘im, I would’ve killed ya myself.”

Suna stared perplexed at his hand, then into Atsumu's eyes. The thin golden metal adorned with the sun charm is distinctive. The counterpart to Atsumu's moon necklace. It’s Osamu’s.

“Where did you get this from? Where is—”

“I don't know, Rin,” Atsumu interrupts him because he can't stand to hear this question anymore.

Where is Osamu?

Oh, how much he wishes he had an answer to that.

“We got a hint that he might be in Osaka. Gotta talk to Kita first and see what he has for us.”

For a moment, the world stands still. Atsumu and Suna stare deeply into each other's eyes, their gazes full of despair and empathy. They are suffering. Both of them. No one can understand each other better than they can. The morbid concern for the one they love the most.

It is a shared sorrow.

Suna's gaze drifts back to the necklace in his hand, clenching it into a fist, squeezing the piece of jewelry tightly. It's all they have. Of course, Suna considers this at least as frustrating as Atsumu. They need more than that.

His gaze shifts to Sakusa, green fox eyes observing him until he frowns. Atsumu's heart beats a tad faster. He gulps. Suna wouldn't notice Sakusa was part of Yakuza, right?

“You got some nerve showing up here with these lousy guns,” Suna refers to the sniper rifle and probably to Sakusa's pistol too. “Didn't anyone ever teach you to fight with real weapons?”

Sakusa snorts. “What’s it with Inarizaki and their assassins? All of them think they're superior. How naïve.”

Suna squints, but Atsumu steps between them before he can open his mouth again and forces an irritated smile on his own lips. He has no time for bitching right now.

“Okaaaay, great. Lovely. Omi-kun, this is Sunarin. Sunarin, this is Omi-kun. So nice to meet ya guys! Now let's go to Kita.”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” Sakusa corrects him.

“Suna Rintarō,” Suna follows suit.

“Wonderful. Now that that's settled, can we leave?”

They stare at each other for a moment longer before Suna's gaze returns to Atsumu. He snorts and shakes his head, muttering something about the blonde being a 'stupid moron' which Atsumu pretends he didn’t hear. Then Suna detaches himself from them and continues walking.

“Let’s go.”

The first one to greet Atsumu is Aran. The tight hug and the low words of "It's good to see you again" clearly (don't) make Atsumu's eyes hot. Red-rimmed and after a few blinks, it's almost unnoticeable that he was about to shed a few tears.

It is truly good to see his family again. Every single one of them.

They are all here. Ōmimi, Riseki, Akagi, Ginjima... all of them are here. Everyone is happy to see Suna and Atsumu again, eager to celebrate their return. But before they could, they were interrupted by a soft voice that quickly silenced the whole room.

“Atsumu.” He should be happy, but instead, he flinches out of fear. “It’s been a while.”

A lump forms in his throat, making it difficult for him to breathe or swallow. It could be mistaken for his heart, pounding so loudly and heavily that it numbs Atsumu. His body starts to shake, and he feels sick. So incredibly sick that he wants to throw up.

Where have you been?

Why didn't you answer me?

Why did you avoid me?

Why did you never come back?

Where is Osamu?

Questions over questions to which Atsumu has no answer. But Kita doesn't ask any of them. No. Instead, he holds his gaze, calm and collected, and says nothing. Silent torture for Atsumu's small insignificant heart.

His stomach twists, it feels like thousands of knives stabbed through his heart. Atsumu is hot and he's shaking and this damn guilt is swallowing him up and—

“Welcome home,” Kita says warmly before hugging him tightly, and though Atsumu's body tenses at first, he instantly lets himself sink into Kita's embrace the second after. Home. Is he still allowed to call it like that?

“Kita,” he whispers shakily and squeezes him back even tighter. “Kita, ‘m sorry.” He buries his face in the crook of his neck and swallows down his emotions.

Because Inarizaki would break him. That's why he didn't want to come back. Because everything reminds him of Osamu. That's why he had to stay away. Because disappointment and pity are written all over everyone's face. That's why he isolated himself.

But Kita doesn't condemn him, no, not at all. Kita holds him until he stops shaking. Embraces him until he calms down. Rubs his back to erase his worries.

And it works because all of this feels like back then when the twins' mother died and Kita took them in. Kept an eye out for them. Took care of them. Helped them become who they are today. It works because Kita is their home and always will be.

Atsumu inhales deeply his soothing scent of peach and jasmine before taking a step back and looking him in the eyes. A look full of love and affection, full of sympathy and patience. No feelings of guilt. No sorrow. No pity. Kita is just glad Atsumu is back.

“I missed you,” he says softly while caressing Atsumu's cheek with his knuckles. Atsumu frowns but forces a shallow smile on his lips, his chest feels tight. “I missed you, too.”

“You’re blonde again,” Kita smiles softly. Atsumu nods.

No remorse. No blame. Only genuine delight.

It is strange to be back in Inarizaki and yet it's not.

“I see you brought a friend with ya.”

If Atsumu could read Kita with any degree of certainty, he would say that he seems kind of tense. Maybe he is. Sakusa is, after all, an armed stranger who doesn't necessarily score points for sympathy. But there was something else in his gaze besides tension. Something that made his eyes go cold. Something that Atsumu has never seen before.

Fear? Panic?

Atsumu must be wrong.

“Ah, no.” He clears his throat. He'd be damned if he'd lie to Kita. “Omi ain't no friend.”

“An acquaintance,” Sakusa interjects, and it bugs Atsumu. Why? He doesn't know. Or he pretends not to know.

“Kita-san, this is Sakusa Kiyoomi. Omi-kun, this is Kita Shinsuke,” he introduces them to each other and Sakusa nods his head to Kita but looks at him with equal skepticism. “He helped me looking for ‘Samu,” Atsumu explains, assuring Kita that it's okay to talk about leads to his brother with Sakusa being present.

“Is that so?” Kita asks.

“Yeah,” Atsumu nods, even if he wishes he had made all the progress on his own.

Kita and Sakusa don't take their eyes off each other for quite a while, making Atsumu uncomfortable. He feels the tension between them and it's oppressive. Even more so when he thinks about Kita never being biased against anyone. And yet he looks at Sakusa as if he was his worst threat.

Could he know...?

Atsumu is most afraid of Kita finding out that Sakusa belongs to Oikawa. Then he would know without a doubt right away that he has been fooling around with Yakuza for the past few weeks, and it would be better if no one would ever bring that up.

Hyogo's assassins aren't exactly too fond of Yakuza.

Of course, Kita handles jobs for both Ushijima and Oikawa. Maybe Daishō too. Atsumu had never heard the guy say anything remotely endearing about his clan, but their money was as green as anybody else’s. And as long as they demand to kill each other, it's a win-win.

Less Yakuza equals more blessings for the world.

“Sit down,” Kita urges, his gaze still focused on Sakusa. “What can I get ya to drink?”

“Whiskey,” Atsumu and Sakusa answer in unison, both scowling at each other. Suna scoffs before turning to Kita and letting him know that he doesn't need anything. Kita nods and vanishes behind the counter, letting the three of them sit down.

To say the atmosphere is tense would be an understatement. It would only take a pushpin to rip the heated veil around them to shreds. Everyone was kind of annoyed with each other, a certain tension laying in their muscles.

Atsumu's gaze keeps drifting to Sakusa, catching his onyx eyes that don't reveal the slightest thought. But he stares back, holding Atsumu's fire, and Atsumu wonders if it's not him whose walls are beginning to crumble.

When Kita comes back, all eyes fall on him expectantly. He puts the drinks down for Sakusa and Atsumu and has gotten himself a glass of water. He takes a deep breath as he sits down between Atsumu and Suna and lets the silence last a little longer until he starts talking.

“Daishō contacted me two weeks ago to set up a shot.” Atsumu's gaze flits to Sakusa, who is already looking at him as warily as Atsumu is looking at him. “Not an easy mark, since it's one of his closest men.”

“Who?” Atsumu asks, frowning because he has a faint hunch.

“Noriaki Hayato.”

Jackpot.

Atsumu's eyes widen while Sakusa's frown deepens. They look at each other and know immediately that Meian's hint must be right. Now the only question is what this mission is all about.

“Daishō didn't let much slip, only that he suspects Noriaki would betray him. Guess that's reason enough to kill his own men from now on,” Kita continues disdainfully, looking into Sakusa's eyes.

As if he would suspect something. As if he knows.

“You checked the hit?” Suna asks just to be polite. They all knew Kita checks every job before he passes it on to his assassins.

Kita nods. “Everything is fine with the contract so far. What makes me wonder is that Noriaki was supposedly seen with someone who’s from Inarizaki.”

“Osamu,” Atsumu finishes the thought and feels his heart beating in his throat. Kita hesitates. “It could be misleading information.”

“It's a chance,” Suna interjects.

“You have to be careful,” Kita warns, giving them green light for this mission. Kill him but watch out.

Atsumu thinks about the conversation with Meian, about how he told them exactly the same thing. So, there must be something to it. Noriaki must be the key to his brother. Atsumu's hands are already twitching to get his hands on that son of a bitch.

“Noriaki was last seen here in the area.” Kita slides a picture of him on the table along with headsets for each of them. “The radio range is far and stable enough so that it can't be disrupted. You should split up until ya find him.”

Atsumu smirks a little when he sees Sakusa reach for one of the headsets. “You can wait here Omi and let the pros do the work.”

Sakusa gives him a look that could not have been more obvious to Atsumu. There's no way he'd stay here, in a city full of assassins who supposedly all despise Yakuza. Atsumu has to admit it's kind of amusing.

“Suna shouldn't have to do this alone,” he answers instead and pisses Atsumu off. Suna chuckles.

“Get back in one piece,” Kita interrupts them before they can lapse into their usual banter. “And let me know if you need more help. Everyone is willing to find Osamu.”

Sakusa and Atsumu stare into each other’s eyes, the mood between them clearly tense. Atsumu’s gaze is wavering, though, as he sees the muscles at Sakusa’s throat clench and relax, swallowing thickly, and he realizes he wants to kiss that pouty mouth ever since he’d taken off that stupid mask. Something in Atsumu’s stomach begins to flutter.

“Thank you, Kita-san,” Suna says also on behalf of Atsumu and rips him out of his thoughts. Atsumu blushes faintly.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat and mutters. “Thanks.” Kita nods approvingly.

It’s pissing Atsumu off.

While Sakusa has gone back to his friend's apartment in Osaka, Atsumu is sleeping in his and his twin's apartment in Inarizaki. It's been a year now since he last entered it and he realizes, nothing has changed.

Osamu's stuff is still here, untouched, his scent long gone.

Atsumu throws the key into a bowl next to the door, takes off his shoes and jacket, places them in the genkan, and trudges into their living room. He sighs as he picks up a photo of himself and his brother. They were fifteen and each got their own weapon from their mother. Atsumu a katana and Osamu the ribbed knife.

They smile at the camera; their hair is brown and their faces are slightly sunburned. Back then everything was still okay, their family was complete.

Atsumu puts the picture aside and sneaks into Osamu's room. On his desk are a few recipes, and in his bed is a golden plush dog that they used to play with when they were kids.

Osamu's plush dog and Atsumu's plush cat.

Atsumu lies down in his brother's bed and takes the furry toy in his hand. He studies it for a while, then lowers himself onto its back and snuggles it close to his chest. Atsumu makes himself small, pulls his legs closer to his body, and rolls to the side. He closes his eyes and frowns.

Sleep will not overtake him tonight. Without Osamu, this doesn't feel like home.

Atsumu has forgotten how much fun it is to work with Sunarin! Well, more or less. Because they have been searching for Noriaki for days now and it starts to agitate them. There is no lead at all plus all the unspoken things hanging above them are about to explode.

They’re not going to last much longer like this until someone snaps because the mood between the three is as tense as Atsumu’s dick when he thinks about Sakusa.

Which might be part of the problem.

When Suna radioed for support because he spotted something suspicious, Atsumu was the one nearest to him. So, he ended up on the roof of a bakery with his best foe (friend) Rintarō, looking down on the laundry across from them because Noriaki might supposedly be inside.

Atsumu lies on his back playing with Osamu's knife while Rin squats next to him, keeping his eyes on the building across from them. Rays of sunlight keep them warm as they wait, winter slowly fading away, the snow melting.

Red spider lilies...

“What's the deal with you and Sakusa?” Suna asks out of nowhere but doesn't avert his gaze from his target. Atsumu holds still.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Atsumu asks seemingly cluelessly, though he knows exactly what Suna is alluding to.

“He hates you, and at the same time he wants to get you laid,” Suna states bluntly. Then he turns to Atsumu and raises an eyebrow. “Did he?”

“No?!” Snaps Atsumu and blushes a deep red. What the fuck? “The only thing he might want me to do is slit his throat.”

“You’re talking bullshit, ‘Tsumu.”

“Not more bullshit than you do, Sunarin.”

Suna scoffs and shakes his head, returning his focus to the building in front of them. Atsumu gives him a side-eye and examines him, he can tell there's so much more on the tip of his tongue, and he hates it. He hates that Suna even thinks of him and Sakusa that way. Hates that Suna is saying what Atsumu wishes so badly.

Touch me. Crave me. Want me.

Never. Never would Sakusa do that.

“Of all assassins, you choose one with a pistol and a sniper rifle,” Suna mocks, glaring bitterly at Atsumu. “You haven't learned a thing, have you?”

If only Suna knew Sakusa is definitely not an assassin...

Atsumu scowls at him. “Now, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Put some more effort into that brain cell of yours, maybe you'll figure it out.”

“Fuck you, Rin.” Atsumu sheathes Osamu's knife and stands up. “No, listen. Fuck you. You don't have the right to judge me!”

“Don't I?! Which one of us traded his fucking katana for a shotgun? Do I need to remind you that it’s what led to Samu getting lost?!”

“Do I need to remind ya who broke his fucking heart before we left? Who fucked him up so badly? Because I have no fucking problem holding back.”

Suna grits his teeth, rage and despair swirling in his green fox eyes. Only a spark is missing until it explodes. Just a little push.

Of course, Suna is right. Atsumu trading in his beloved katana for a shotgun was only meant for this one mission. What followed was that both his personal weapon and his twin brother went missing.

Osamu scolded him why he swapped it in the first place. Said it was unnecessary, that they would get things done their way too. But when they were told that their mark was accompanied by someone who wouldn't hesitate to turn their gun on them and was pretty good at it too, Atsumu wanted to play it safe. For Osamu. To increase their chances of not getting killed.

This plan kind of backfired.

Atsumu's katana was found, yet Osamu wasn't. When Kita figured out Atsumu used a gun like a miserable mobster, his precious weapon was confiscated until he would return with Osamu. A punishment sitting deep in his bones to this day.

His katana was one thing. But Rin playing with his brother's heart in such a devious way made Atsumu furious to this day. Osamu wasn't in the right headspace when they left. He shouldn't have joined Atsumu in the first place. At least not like that.

So, no. Atsumu is not going to let that sit. He's had many clashes with Suna over Osamu, and each time it gets worse.

“God, I really hate you, Atsumu.”

It's so easy to blame others when you don't want to hurt yourself. So easy to let spiteful words fall from your lips when you want to protect yourself. So easy to shut down when you can't take it anymore.

“Why?” Atsumu bites back. “Because I look like my brother? Because I remind you that you fucked up, Rin?!”

Atsumu knows. Atsumu knows that none of this is true. Suna is not to blame for this. Not at all. Atsumu knows he's not being fair. Atsumu knows he is doing him wrong. He knows. Really. And yet he can’t stop his words.

Because only he saw how fucked up Osamu was when they went to Miyagi. Only he saw that Osamu stopped caring about everything. Only Atsumu has seen Osamu's indifference. That he gave up on everything but his brother. Because Atsumu was the only one he had left. His twin. His soulmate.

And now they are apart.

“It should have been you.”

It was quiet, but loud enough to make Atsumu's gaze snap up. There was no more rage in Rin's eyes. No hatred. Just pure desperation. Regret. Guilt.

Yes, it should have been Atsumu, not Osamu. It's not as if Atsumu didn't know that. It's not like he doesn't keep telling himself that every day. But hearing it from Suna was even more hurtful. Because it's true. And they both know it.

“You know how much ‘Samu loved you,” Atsumu mutters softly, his stomach feeling hollow.

Suna's eyes glisten. Just like back then. Back when he was told that Osamu had disappeared.

“It’s not like I never harbored the same feelings for him, ‘Tsumu,” his voice is shaky.

The lump in Atsumu's throat gets bigger, so much bigger. He can't swallow it, causing tears to well up in his own eyes. Atsumu's chest is tight and his stomach so hollow. As if he would be swallowed from the inside and burst at the same time. Atsumu feels nauseous. So incredibly sick.

“Then why, Rin?” His vision is so blurry. Tears. Tears? Why are there tears? It's hard for him to swallow. The lump... “Why did ya push ‘im away?”

“It’s just—fuck...” He’s struggling. Suna turns away from Atsumu and returns his arrow to the bag on his back. He runs his hand through his hair, obviously trying to compose himself. Atsumu's heart clenches; he doesn't want to hurt Rin, but he doesn't want to get hurt either.

When Rin turns around again, his eyes are red-rimmed, but he doesn't shed a tear. He is angry, furious. Probably both at himself and at Atsumu. “‘Samu hated this life. He wanted to quit, ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu knows that. They wanted to go to Osaka. “Yeah, so what?”

“He could’ve never done that with me by his side. There would be too many people chasing me and I... I didn’t want him to get hurt, ‘Tsumu. You know what foolish missions I took on when I wasn't working for Kita. You know how much it would have put him in danger!”

“And ya think I’m any better than you?!” Atsumu spits. “We would’ve managed that. ‘Samu and I would get rid of ‘em. We are so strong, Rin, and with you even more so. We could have managed this…”

Suna closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, turning away from Atsumu.

I screwed up, ‘Tsumu...

Atsumu remembers Suna's words before they went their separate ways a year ago.

I'm lonely, Rin...

A stupid, so stupid moment in which they almost ruined so much more.

“I need a drink,” Rin declares exhaustedly. “Noriaki isn't in there.”

Atsumu scowls at him.

It's not fair.

Neither of them speaks a word as they end up in Kita's bar. Sakusa and Atsumu sip their whiskey while Rin forces down a beer.

Atsumu is annoyed. He is so annoyed with both men each sitting next to him, it drives him crazy.

He is annoyed with Suna because of everything he did to Osamu and because of everything that was between him and Atsumu. He is annoyed with Sakusa because he is giving Atsumu mixed signals. Because Atsumu needs to keep telling himself not to get carried away. Because Atsumu can see the way Sakusa is looking at him and it doesn't match the way he is acting toward him.

And caught in this mess is Atsumu who still wants, wants, wants.

The one who wants to touch him, who wants to press his lips to Sakusa's, who wants to listen to what it sounds like to have the sweet name of Kiyoomi roll off his tongue. And if he didn't give him this damn look, if his cheeks didn't blush, if his body didn't react the way it does with Atsumu, he wouldn't care. He would ignore it all.

But he can't.

Because Atsumu is curious and impatient and maybe a bit of an asshole.

Good things don't happen after 2 am, so Atsumu should have just let it be. He should have gone to his lonely apartment and let his thoughts consume him there. He shouldn't have given in to his emotions.

But he is Atsumu, not Osamu. The loud one. The unrestrained one. The hot-headed one.

Suna and Sakusa's eyes snap to Atsumu as he abruptly rises from his barstool and leans over the counter to reach for a bottle of tequila. Atsumu feels Kita's eyes on him and hopes he can pay him back tomorrow or whenever. Hopes that he'll just let him do whatever he needs to do.

“Atsumu what the—”

“Shut up,” he interrupts Suna while placing a tiny glass bowl of lemon pieces on top of the counter, which Kita must have prepared for the night. Atsumu is genuinely sorry, but right now he's kind of freaking out a little bit and he’s pissed. His feelings get the better of him.

“So fucking done with this bullshit,” he murmurs as he grabs salt and three glasses, pours the liquor into each and slides one glass to Suna and one to Sakusa.

“Lick, drink, bite,” Atsumu says as a matter of fact and is scowled at by both of them.

“There's no way in hell I'm—”

“I don't drink teq—”

“Ya two shut the fuck up and drink.” Either they talk about what's on their minds or they fight. Atsumu doesn't care, but something has to happen because it's tearing him apart. “Don't tell me ya can't handle that little bit of booze? Are ya too chicken? Afraid you'll fall all over me?”

Suna huffs while Sakusa's gaze darkens even more. Atsumu hates it. He hates it because he feels like he's triggering something in Sakusa, and he can't get him to let go. He can be wrong, yes. After all, Atsumu still can't read him. But he would be stupid if he didn't at least try.

The snarky comment makes them each take a shot and a slice of lemon.

Atsumu and Sakusa hold their gaze as they each slip off a glove. Sakusa looks at Atsumu and Suna in disgust as they lick the back of their hand before scattering some salt on the damp skin. He himself uses a piece of lemon and rubs it over his pale skin, then lets some salt trickle on it as well.

They perform the ritual: lick, drink, bite, and Atsumu was stupid, so incredibly stupid for what he did. Of course, he made the mistake and looked into Sakusa's eyes. Naïve of him to think that it wouldn't affect him.

When Sakusa pulled down the collar of his sweater, that should have been the first sign that Atsumu should look away. His stomach flipped as Sakusa revealed his beautiful face, his heart nearly popping out of his chest as he licked his hand. What else could that tongue do, he wonders.

And this look?

Fuck, Atsumu would die to see it again.

The liquid burns down his throat and stomach, sending heat to his cheeks and allowing his muscles to relax. It doesn't calm him down, but it definitely makes him lose the last few inhibitions Atsumu never had anyway.

“Another one,” he says because he needs to see. Needs to watch.

“Atsumu you’re insane.”

“You wanna chicken out, Rin?” Atsumu bites back, shooting him a look.

Suna looks at him peeved but doesn't comment further and lets him pour another shot. So, they repeat the whole thing and Atsumu thinks he might lose it as Sakusa's cheeks start to sprout red, eyes never averted from the blonde.

Atsumu swallows thickly and lets more heat rush into his own cheeks, shifting in his seat because his pants tend to get tighter. Sakusa watches him, letting his gaze fall on Atsumu's lips, further down on his crotch, then back up into his golden eyes.

Dark orbs that are filled with hunger, desire, and too much reluctance.

Want me. Crave me. Touch me.

Atsumu's head rests in his arms on top of the counter, cocked to the side to glance up at Sakusa. His head definitely hazy from the alcohol, intoxicated from Sakusa. He wants. Needs...

Atsumu's heart beats strongly in his chest, holding Sakusa's consuming gaze, making him waver more and more. He's been trying to suppress it, pretending not to see it, but Atsumu can't misinterpret that.

If Sakusa didn't want this at least as much, then he wouldn't be looking at him like this.

And yet he hesitates, and it's so so so fucking frustrating.

“One more round.” Thus, Atsumu wants to make him snap.

“You’re pathetic, Miya,” Sakusa scoffs but doesn’t protest.

He would prefer not to care about it, but Atsumu respects Sakusa's boundaries and doesn't touch him unless he allows him to. So, he does what he can do best: being so incredibly stupid.

Annoyed with the situation, with himself, with Sakusa, and still with Suna, Atsumu stands up and once again attracts the gazes of the two men. Sakusa calls Atsumu pathetic? Yet he himself is not a bit better.

Atsumu glares at him before turning to Rin and climbing onto his lap. Both Sakusa's and Suna's eyes widen, followed by confusion and a death stare.

“‘Tsumu what the—”

“C'mon, Sunarin. Shouldn't we show Omi-kun how to drink properly in Inarizaki?”

“Atsumu,” Suna warns.

“What?!” Atsumu snaps. “Scared ya might fall for me, Rin?”

He smirks wickedly while Suna glares at him with hatred in his eyes. Atsumu knows he's being an ass, but he was mad and frustrated and neither of them deserved better. Rin probably senses that he's half hard, but Atsumu couldn't care less.

Just on a whim, he slides a little closer, noticing the furrow of Sakusa's brow as he watches them.

You don’t like that, right?

But that's exactly what Atsumu is going for.

He takes Suna's hand and stares at the tattoo splayed across his biceps. A dark fox with light highlights, the snout pointing toward his shoulder blade, surrounded by single petals. The counterpart to his brother's tattoo. The yin to Osamu's yang.

Atsumu frowns and grits his teeth. Seeing the artwork on Rin's skin makes him even more furious. Because his brother and this idiot were meant to be, but Rin has decided to be egoistic, selfish, and throw it all away even though he loved him.

Still loves him...

And if that wasn't enough, Rin almost kissed Atsumu a year ago if Atsumu hadn't stopped him just in time. A mistake, a stupid moment that they both regret.

They’d been looking for Osamu and they were desperate because they couldn’t find him, let alone gather even the slightest hint of where he could be. So, they ended up drinking, drowning their sorrow and grief. Rin a little more than Atsumu did.

Alcohol is never a good idea. Not today, and certainly not then. Because their emotions were intensified and so was the longing for the one person they loved so much. The urge to see Osamu again. Despair at not being able to change that.

They were angry and sad and frustrated. But they were there for each other, always, always there for each other. And that night, Atsumu looked a little too much like Osamu, and Rin was suddenly the only one Atsumu had left.

He was lonely, so damn lonely, but Rin was there.

So, it almost happened. Foreheads pressed together, noses nudged, breath hot on each other's lips. It felt so right for a brief moment, so wrong for any other one. Atsumu stopped them before it could even get that far. Left Inarizaki. Has been searching for his brother on his own ever since.

So yes, Atsumu knows the shit he's pulling right now is the worst, but each of them deserves it.

As he dampens Suna's wrist with a piece of lemon and scatters some salt on it, the latter squints his eyes. Atsumu licks the spot, keeping eye contact and feeling Suna tense up, Sakusa inhales a sharp breath.

Atsumu tips his head back and downs the shot before holding the lemon piece in front of Suna's mouth, wordlessly urging him to wedge it between his lips. Annoyed by Atsumu's behavior, he lets him do it, knowing that any protest would end in an even bigger disaster.

Atsumu catches Sakusa's displeased look from the corner of his eye. His brow is furrowed, his arms crossed, his eyes deadly. It doesn’t matter to Atsumu. Let him watch him. Maybe it will hurt him a little, too. He doesn't care.

Suna's hands burn on Atsumu's hips, keeping him from sliding off his lap as he leans in, getting dangerously close to Rin. As Atsumu sinks his teeth into the lemon slice, almost kissing Suna, Sakusa stands up and mumbles something about wishing them ‘a great fucking night.’

Atsumu straightens up, removes the peel from his mouth, and watches Sakusa leave. He swallows. Acid and alcohol etch in his throat, burning through his body. It hurts. Not the liquids.

“You’re an asshole, Atsumu.”

Atsumu knows that. He fucking knows it.

“Likewise,” he answers as if he doesn't care. Except he does.

He may not be able to read Sakusa but this... this was unmistakable.

When? He wonders. When are you going to break, Omi?

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