Archive of Our Own ^beta

There’s many things that Kiyoomi hates about nursing. The smells, the sickness, the germs. But what he hates the most is the annoying doctor who somehow always finds him amidst the entire emergency room floor. 

Kiyoomi doesn’t get it. Every doctor he knows is so busy that some don't have time for lunch. He waves as they speed past him, barely managing to acknowledge Kiyoomi in the halls. So how the fuck does Miya Atsumu have so much time on his hands, and why does he use it to bother Kiyoomi. 

It’s like a sixth sense that he has. When Miya takes the last step of the staircase into the ER, Kiyoomi suddenly feels a wave of irritation. He typically finds a room to duck into, to wait out the loud, brash voice of Miya. Some days, he can’t find one in time and tries to busy himself with charting, but that doesn’t stop Miya. 

Today is one of those days. He’s on his eighth hour of his twelve hour shift and he can feel himself slowing down. He blames that on why his Miya tingle didn’t catch the blonde doctor walking into the ER. 

“Omi-kun!” Miya shouts and Kiyoomi feels a shiver run down his spine. 

“Fuck,” he hisses out, pretending he doesn’t hear the obnoxious nickname and glues his eyes to the laptop in front of him. 

“Omi!” The voice is closer this time and Kiyoomi feels the wrinkle in his forehead start to appear when footsteps stop in front of him. There’s a hand that’s suddenly in his face and he flinches back. 

“ What ?” Kiyoomi snaps, swatting away his hand. “I’m busy.”

“Yer always playin’ hard to get, Omi-Omi,” Miya continues. He wears his insufferable smirk as he leans his chin on one hand. “Whatcha up to?” 

Kiyoomi’s eye twitches. “I’m working. What are you doing?”

“Curious ‘bout me, huh?” Miya asks coyly, winking. Kiyoomi stiffles his gag. “I’m down here for room 12,” Miya says, glancing down at his chart. “Got a consultation for them.”

“Lucky them.”

“Ya wanna come with? I’d love to have a hot nurse keep me company.”

The slam of the laptop catches the attention of a few nearby staff members. “I’ll give you five seconds to walk away.”

“So cute when yer angry,” Miya says, booping Kiyoomi’s nose. Kiyoomi jolts up from his seat and Miya takes a quick step back. “See ya later, Omi-Omi!”

Kiyoomi spends the next four hours of his shift imagining different ways to hurt Miya without getting in trouble. While the sweet revenge would feel better than anything he’s done in his life, he’s not willing to lose his job over someone like him. 

He thinks he’s in the clear once he’s gotten into the locker room. He hasn’t had any more interactions with Miya aside from the wink Miya threw to him on his way out of the ER. All things considered, Kiyoomi thinks he’s had it pretty easy today compared to some days where it felt like he was a magnet for annoying, blonde doctors. 

His luck has run entirely short when he steps into the locker room, feet swollen from standing on them all day long, and a familiar laugh erupts from the back row of lockers. His blood runs cold and he instantly goes into flight mode, looking for the best way to get his things and leave before Miya can spot him. He even considers picking up the next shift, just so he doesn’t have to see Miya anymore today. 

There’s another chorus of laughter as Miya entertains some of the female nurses who actually like him (they’ve been bribed. No one in their sane mind likes him). He tries to quietly sneak in and get to his locker, being as careful as he can to open his locker without making a sound. 

Each time Miya tells another corny joke to the nurses, Kiyoomi quickly grabs things out of his locker, waiting a few seconds until there’s enough noise to cover up him grabbing his things and trying to change. 

He thinks he’s in the clear, completely changed into the clothes he arrived in, backpack slung over his shoulder, and about the head out when he hears that awful nickname. Kiyoomi walks faster, slipping his earbuds into his ear and pretending that he can’t hear Miya over the sound of nothing playing from his phone. 

He hears the hurried footsteps of Miya who chases after him and down the hall, making Kiyoomi stop when he skids in front of him. 

“Ya going home?” Miya asks. 

Kiyoomi points to his earbuds and shrugs, but Miya catches him when he finds the end of Kiyoomi’s wire and holds up the end where it’s not connected to anything. 

“Can’t hear you,” Kiyoomi says, keeping it up anyway and shouldering past Miya. 

Kiyoomi had a blissful two years of peace before he had the unfortunate event of meeting Miya. He managed to score his first pick of hospitals right out of university and worked hard so they knew they made the right choice. He never had any problems, getting along well enough with the staff, even making a few friends with the other nurses. 

It was going great, until one fateful morning when Miya introduced himself as the new pediatric surgeon resident on board and Kiyoomi has never known peace since. 

His father used to tell him that it took a child to work with children, and Kiyoomi thinks his father must have met Miya somewhere along the way for him to be so sure of that. Because Kiyoomi sees it everyday. He doesn’t ever bother trying to have a normal conversation with Miya because he heard him make a fart joke once . 

But Kiyoomi refuses to quit. He refuses to leave a job he truly enjoys all because of one ridiculous doctor. He tried to ignore Miya for an entire week, but soon learned it was less painful to respond to the first ‘Omi’ than the fifteenth in one minute.

The only saving grace is that they don’t work in the same department, and since Miya flirts his way into every surgery he can get his sticky fingers on, there are some shifts that Kiyoomi only has to tolerate him for fifteen minutes. 

The worst part about all of this, however, is how good of a doctor Miya actually is. It makes Kiyoomi retch when he considers ever complimenting Miya’s work as a doctor. So he ignores it. If any of his coworkers mention how good of a job Miya does, he leaves the room and pretends he doesn’t hear the good qualities of Miya. 

Kiyoomi hates flu season. Kids with snotty noses come in and try to touch everything around them, older men who were forced to come in by their wives (yet claim nothing is wrong with them), elderly patients who think it’s some serious disease and not just the common flu.

He knows it’s stupid, especially since he’s a nurse, but he hates the germs. Every corner of the ER is full of patients who sneeze without covering their mouth, take off their mask to speak to Kiyoomi (he can hear them just fine with it up). Kiyoomi does his best to push all of his thoughts to the back of his mind and power through all of his phobias when it comes to flu season. To help with that, he goes through at least one bottle of hand sanitizer a day, always doubles up his masks, even wearing a face shield somedays and wearing an extra set of gloves. 

Today he forgoes that. It’s been a few days since their latest influx of flu patients, only seeing one or two a day instead of the normal dozen that mozy their way into the hospital doors. Now, instead of dreading the thought of gross kids and grumpy elders, he gets to hear Miya announce his presence. 

Kiyoomi groans, especially since he knows he actually has to tolerate Miya considering Kiyoomi was the one who had to call him down for a consultation. 

A child came in with a stomachache and the physician in the ER had Kiyoomi page Miya to come down. So when he sees the stupid blonde grinning at him as he all but skips up to Kiyoomi as the nurses desk, he actually has to be civil. 

“Ya rang?” Miya asks. It takes everything in him to not say ‘no’.

“Room 14 has suspected appendicitis,” Kiyoomi says instead, eyebrow twitching. “Kuroo-hakase asked me to call you down for a consultation.”

“Straight to it, huh, Omi? Not even a little fore-”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll file a sexual harassment case against you.” Kiyoomi stands, moving around the desk to grab a cart with a laptop so he can wheel it into the room. 

Kiyoomi knocks on the glass sliding door and the child’s mother looks up from where she’s sitting on the bed with her daughter. “Kimura-san, this is Miya-hakase, he’s the surgeon we spoke about.” Kiyoomi steps to the side so Miya can have the cart while Kiyoomi takes a new set of vitals to monitor. 

“Sakura, huh?” Miya starts, skimming over her file on the laptop, “what a pretty name.”

“I was born in the sakura season!” she offers and Kiyoomi catches the way Miya’s face lights up. 

“What a cool coincidence!” Miya says, offering her one of his famous smiles. “Yer tummy isn’t feeling good, is it?” he asks. 

Sakura shakes her head and her mother starts to speak for her. Each time Kiyoomi looks up from taking Sakura’s vitals, he sees how concentrated Miya is, typing away furiously at the laptop and nodding along to Kimura-san’s story about her daughter. 

“Did they press on yer belly, Sakura-chan?” Miya asks. Sakura nods. “Did it hurt when they pressed on it?” 

“Only when they took their hand away,” Sakura answers, making the motion of it just hovering her stomach.

Kiyoomi grabs some things to draw her blood as Miya continues to explain some things to Sakura and her mom. He pretends that it’s someone else so he can say positive words about his interaction with Sakura, especially with how scared she was when she first came in. 

“Nurse Omi is gonna take some blood for me, okay Sakura-chan?” Miya asks.

Sakura looks unsure, but nods her head anyway and holds out her arm. Kiyoomi makes quick work, getting everything set up to take blood. He’s done it a hundred times if not more, but suddenly forgets everything the second Sakura sneezes right on his face. 

He thinks he hears someone curse, but the blood is rushing so loudly in his ears and his hands start to shake. He barely feels a pair of hands on his shoulders, sliding him backwards, and the next thing he knows he’s being pushed into a supply room. 

Kiyoomi doesn’t realize he’s hyperventilating until Miya steps in front of him and starts speaking calmly, yet managing to get his words over the deafening thrum in Kiyoomi’s ears. 

He leaves for a second and comes straight back with a wipe, pulling off Kiyoomi’s mask and tossing it to the floor. 

“--a wipe,” he vaguely hears him say, and Kiyoomi takes it. The smell of rubbing alcohol is strong as Kiyoomi uses it to scrub his face roughly, but it starts to bring him back. There’s another wipe being handed to him that Kiyoomi takes and rubs it along his neck and soon a mask is being handed to him as well. 

“I gotta to take her up to my floor, but I’ll tell someone yer in here, ‘kay?” he hears Miya ask and Kiyoomi thinks he nods. 

He hasn’t had a panic attack at work in a long time, always taking precautions and knowing his limits, but this caught him off guard. 

He slides to the floor, quickly pulling on his new mask and stripping his gloves from his hands, throwing them to the ground with the discarded wipes. Once he feels himself able to ground himself with anything in the room, he starts his exercises to come back down. 

Kiyoomi doesn’t know how long it’s been when the door opens back up and he startles, jumping up from the ground so he doesn’t look like he’s hiding away in a supply closet, even if he is. 

It’s just Miya though, and he lets himself fall back to the ground, letting out a long breath. 

“Are ya feeling better?” he asks, leaning down in front of Kiyoomi. He nods, pulling his legs up into his chest. Kiyoomi tenses, waiting for Miya to explode on him about how unprofessional it is for a nurse to get a panic attack over some germs . He’d heard about the pretty boy surgeon turning ugly the second someone deemed themselves unworthy in his eyes, seen it happen, too, one day when an intern messed up a chart. 

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” he says instead and Kiyoomi frowns, eyes darting from his legs to Miya’s worried face. 

Kiyoomi shakes his head. “Thanks,” he offers lamely, flinching when Miya’s face quickly changed from worried to smiling. 

“She’s getting ready for surgery, if ya were wonderin’,” Miya offers, standing up. 

Kiyoomi follows him as he does. “You’re not assisting?” It seems off brand for Miya to miss an opportunity at cutting someone open. 

“Nah, wanted to come check on ya. Suna’s doin’ it as his first solo.”

It only confuses Kiyoomi more. Miya giving away a surgery is baffling. Miya giving away a surgery to his brother-in-law and deemed rival is even more so. 

“I’m sorry,” Kiyoomi whispers, eyes falling back to his fingers that pick at his scrub pants. 

“For?” Miya asks.

Kiyoomi scoffs, looking back up at Miya with an incredulous face. “For--” he starts, making a gesture with his hands, “freaking out, making you miss surgery, I don’t know--”

“Omi,” Miya interrupts, “ya didn’t make me miss surgery, I chose to miss surgery.”

“But I was unprofessional!” Kiyoomi argues. He doesn’t even know why he’s begging for Miya to yell at him. Maybe so he can brush off the feeling in his stomach as guilt instead of whatever it actually is. “You hate unprofessionalism.”

“Well, yeah, but ya weren’t, so…” he trails off. “I’m sorry--do ya want me to be mad at ya?” Miya questions. 

“I--” Kiyoomi exhales, pushing himself up to his feet. “Thank you.” He dusts off his scrubs, bending down to grab the trash he had thrown to the ground. 

“Omi, if yer not feelin’--”

“I’m fine ,” Kiyoomi snaps, crumpling everything up and chucking it into the trashcan in the closet. Miya puts his hands up in defense, taking a step back so Kiyoomi can move around. 

“If yer sure,” he mumbles when Kiyoomi pushes past him and back out onto the floor. He squirts some hand sanitizer back into his hands and wraps around the department, Miya following far behind him like he’s a lost puppy afraid to get yelled at again. 

“There ya are,” Meian says, the head nurse. “I was worried about ya.”

“I’m fine, Meian-san.”

“Kiyoomi, we’ve talked about this. If ya have a panic attack, I want ya to go home. Ya don’t function the same.”

“But we’re-”

“Gonna be fine. Get home, go to sleep, start fresh tomorrow.”

Kiyoomi hates this. When he first started nursing, it happened more often. Didn’t know the best way to compartmentalize to stop himself from having a panic attack each time someone sneezed near him. He should be used to it by now, especially with how well he handled the flu season peak. 

“Meian--”

“Bye Kiyoomi.”

Kiyoomi lets out a frustrated sigh and stomps off. He doesn’t actually realize he’s being followed until the door hits Miya in the face and he lets out an ‘ow’. “Why are you still here?” Kiyoomi snaps, then instantly regrets it. 

“I’m makin’ sure yer okay.”

“I’m great. You can go now.”

Miya, for the first time since they met, looks small and insecure, as he takes a few steps back from Kiyoomi. He has a hand on the doorknob, ready to twist when he looks back at Kiyoomi and opens his mouth. Kiyoomi thinks his face must look murderous with the way Miya quickly snaps his mouth shut and dips out the door. 

If Kiyoomi thought having a panic attack in front of Miya was embarrassing, the week following the incident is even more so. Miya doesn’t bring it up, never directly, but he visits Kiyoomi even more than he did before. Kiyoomi even saw him go directly back up to his floor after bothering him in the ER. He didn’t even come to see a patient. 

Not only is he visiting more, but he’s bringing things with him. One day a granola bar, another day a cup of coffee. 

“I hate coffee,” Kiyoomi says, wrinkling his nose at the acrid smell of the steaming cup in front of him. 

“What do ya like?”

“Peace and quiet.”

Miya barks out a laugh, catching the attention of a few other people nearby. “Ya picked the wrong profession then, Omi-kun!” he jokes, knocking on the counter once before disappearing back upstairs. 

Kiyoomi glares at him until the door to the stairs shuts behind him, and then glances around before taking a sip of the coffee. He still hates coffee. 

Miya tries tea next--every flavor from the cafeteria to be specific. Kiyoomi turns his nose up at black tea, earl gray, and herbal, but waits for Miya to be gone before he drinks the green tea. He thought he was careful enough, but when Miya continues to bring him green tea, he knows that somehow he got this bit of information from someone. Kiyoomis stops trusting everyone in the ER. 

He can’t say that it’s painful to see Miya anymore, especially since he brings a green tea with him and sometimes an energy bar that actually helps Kiyoomi get through the rest of his shift. 

Kiyoomi remembers thinking how dumb dogs must be when he studied Pavlov’s experiments. Yet when he hears that stupid nickname, he gets excited because he knows a green tea will come with it. 

He gets too lax around Miya now, even so much as smiling cordially when Miya offers him an umeboshi candy that a patient’s grandfather gave him. Now suddenly there’s always an umeboshi candy waiting for him and Kiyoomi knows Miya didn’t steal them all from the old man, especially when the brand changes. 

They start a routine. Miya comes down to the ER whenever he gets a break and brings gifts to Kiyoomi to placate him while he talks about everything that happened that day. His stories tend to overlap or offer nothing at all since he talks to Kiyoomi almost everyday. In turn, Kiyoomi will sit through three minutes of him filling the air between them with words. 

But three turns to five, which turns to seven, and soon Kiyoomi stops keeping track of the time. He no longer glances at his watch and even lets Miya stay around him until he’s finished his tea.

Kiyoomi hates to say it, but he doesn’t hate Miya anymore. He wouldn’t call him his favorite person in the hospital, but he doesn’t say no when Miya asks if he wants to get drinks after their shifts are over. And then that becomes their new routine. Sometimes it’s just drinks, sometimes it’s actual meals at cheap restaurants. 

Whenever Miya isn’t getting his hands on a surgery or attending to his patients, he’s downstairs with Kiyoomi, swirling in the chair next to him as Kiyoomi charts information. He has a steady stream of topics that he talks about and follows Kiyoomi around whenever he’s not going into one of the rooms. Kiyoomi’s coworkers have started to call out where Kiyoomi is for Miya whenever he steps into the threshold of the ER, because they know he’s only down there for him. 

“Atsumu, can you hand me that file?” Kiyoomi asks one day, ignoring the way his chair gets bumped whenever Miya twirls in his own next to him. 

Kiyoomi is focused on the computer, clicking away at the screen. He holds out a hand for the file, but when it’s not handed to him he frowns and looks over at Miya. “The file?” he repeats.

It seems to shake Miya out of whatever dumb expression he had on his face as he picks up a maroon file and hands it to Kiyoomi. Even when Kiyoomi turns back to face the computer, flipping through the file until he finds the sheet he wants, he can feel Miya’s eyes burning a hole into the side of his head. 

He breathes out a long sigh and turns. “What?”

“Ya called me Atsumu.”

Kiyoomi frowns. “No I didn’t.”

“Yeah, ya did .”

“When?”

“Just now. Ya said ‘ Atsumu, can you give me the thing ’.”

Kiyoomi squints his eyes at Miya, knowing he would never call him by his given name. But the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks that lately he’s been referring to Miya as Atsumu in his mind. 

Atsumu is probably in surgery. 

I wonder if Atsumu likes hamburgers .

“Oh.”

“Are ya finally ready to admit ya might like me, Omi-kun?”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, going back to tapping at the keyboard. “In your dreams Miya .”

“Nuh-uh,” Atsumu says, leaning closer to Kiyoomi. “Ya already called me Atsumu once, ya gotta keep calling me that.”

“Don’t you have a little kid to cut into?” Kiyoomi asks and grimaces how it sounds when it comes out. 

“Nah, it’s a slow--” before he can even finish that thought, Atsumu’s pager goes off and he groans. “Man, come on .”

“Looks like you do have a little kid-”

“I’m gonna stop ya there, Omi,” Atsumu says, standing up and stretching. “Meet me at the door for dinner after?” he asks and Kiyoomi finds himself nodding without even thinking about it. 

There’s a glide of a chair once Atsumu has left and soon Inunaki is in his space. Kiyoomi slows down his typing and turns his head slightly to glare at his coworker. “Can I help you?”

“You dating Miya?”

“What? No,” Kiyoomi defends, glaring at Inunaki before going back to the computer screen. “Why do you care anyway?” he asks, typing in a few words before spinning and facing Inunaki. “Got a crush on him?”

Inunaki rolls an inch back and sputters. “No-no I fucking don’t, what the fuck, Sakusa?”

“So why do you care?” Kiyoomi repeats. Inunaki glares at him and crosses his arms, pushing on the floor to roll away. 

“Fuck you, Sakusa.”

Kiyoomi hasn’t heard anything from Atsumu since he got the page. The rest of his shift goes smoothly and Kiyoomi finds himself quickly getting changed so he can meet Atsumu by the exit. 

He’s a few minutes earlier than their usual meet time, so he pulls out his phone and catches up on everything while he waits around. 

Some time passes, and now Atsumu is late. It’s to be expected, Kiyoomi knows that sometimes surgeries take longer than expected or he might get pulled into something else. Kiyoomi doesn’t mind, it’s something he’s always gotten used to, especially having doctors as parents. 

Half an hour rolls by slowly and soon Kiyoomi is glancing at the clock every few seconds, debating on whether or not to leave and just meet up with Atsumu a different night, when he hears Atsumu call for him at the end of the hall. He turns his head quickly, catching the sight of Atsumu sprinting towards Kiyoomi at full force, backpack jostling on his back. The strings of his hoodie he has on come up and hit him in the face with each bounce before he finally just grabs them and holds them as he runs. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, catching his breath once he reaches Kiyoomi. “Surgery went long.”

“It’s okay,” Kiyoomi says, pulling his bag higher onto his shoulder. “Did it go okay?”

“Yeah, it was fine.” 

Kiyoomi frowns. That’s Atsumu’s indicator for the surgery not being fine. He typically regales Kiyoomi with long, exaggerated stories about how he saved someone’s life. Kiyoomi normally just rolls his eyes in response. 

This time, he gauges Atsumu’s reactions as they start their walk to a restaurant, picking up what Atsumu isn’t offering in their conversation.Their walks are full of Atsumu’s stories about him and his brother, his work, his friends. But tonight, there’s none of that. He offers hums or short answers to whatever Kiyoomi asks, and keeps his head down as they walk. A few times, Kiyoomi has to grab him quickly before he walks into a telephone pole. 

Food seems to kind of help. He doesn’t talk about the surgery, and Kiyoomi doesn’t ask. Instead, they fill the silence with slurping of noodles or a few comments here and there about coworkers at the hospital. 

“Are you okay?” Kiyoomi finally blurts out once they’re leaving. It’s before they separate, and Kiyoomi isn’t 100% sure that Atsumu will make it home without braining himself on a pole or getting hit by a car. 

“Huh? Yeah, just a long day.” 

“I’m here for you if you ever want to talk,” Kiyoomi says and Atsumu snorts. 

“Who are ya and what have ya done with my Omi-kun?” Atsumu asks. Kiyoomi pretends his heart doesn’t flutter at the insinuation that he belongs to Atsumu. 

“I just mean-”

“I know what ya mean, Omi. I’m fine, just--got a lot on my mind.”

Kiyoomi isn’t convinced, but he doesn’t push it. “Get home safe, okay?” he says, pulling one of Atsumu’s hoodie strings loose from behind his backpack strap. 

Atsumu watches it and then smiles softly at him. “You too, Omi.”

The next few days are quiet. Kiyoomi a few months ago would have savored this atmosphere. Zero interactions with Atsumu, no one bothering him. 

Kiyoomi today is unsettled. Whenever he hears the stairwell door close, his head spins around, hoping it’s Atsumu. It never is, though, and disappointment settles in Kiyoomi. 

He does see Atsumu after the fourth day of his absence, though it’s in the cafeteria. Atsumu got Kiyoomi hooked on green tea everyday, so he’s been going to get his own since Atsumu hasn’t been around to bring it to him. 

He sees him at one of the far tables, head low with at least three different medical textbooks open in front of him. He starts to walk over, but stops when he sees a pair of earbuds in Atsumu’s ear and thinks better of disturbing him. 

The next time he sees him is on Monday. Almost an entire week of radio silence from Atsumu, not even getting a single TikTok from him like he got used to. 

The familiar squeak of the stairwell door no longer catches Kiyoomi’s attention, so he jumps when someone falls down next to him with a heavy sigh. 

“Atsumu,” he breathes out, turning slightly in his chair. Atsumu’s face surprises him for two reasons.

One: he hasn’t seen him in almost a week and didn’t realize the relief he would feel when he finally saw him again. 

Two: his cheeks are hollow, and there’s a heavy purple that colors the bags under his eyes. 

“Hi Omi-kun,” he says, but it sounds forced, like he’s trying to pretend that he isn’t exhausted. 

“Are you all right?” Kiyoomi asks, switching into his nurse mode and reaching up to feel Atsumu’s forehead. 

He ducks away, playfully swatting away Kiyoomi’s hand and offers a half hearted smile. “I’m fine, I’ve just been busy.”

“I can tell, I haven’t seen you in a week.”

“Isn’t that what ya always wanted?” Atsumu jokes. 

Not anymore , Kiyoomi thinks. “Why don’t you take a nap?”

“Nah, I don’t have enough time. Just wanted to take a break and come see ya.”

“You’ve had that many surgeries?”

Atsumu shakes his head, eyes crossing up as he plays with a piece of loose hair. “I’ve been researchin’ somethin’. Gotta make sure it’s perfect.”

Kiyoomi watches him carefully, how there’s a glaze to his eyes that’s not normally there. Even his usual tanned skin has paled. “You have to take care of yourself first,” Kiyoomi adds. “What are you doing after work?”

Atsumu blows a short breath out of his nose. “Why? Wanna go on a date with me?” he jokes. 

“Yes.”

Atsumu’s fingers falter from twirling his blond hair. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then--” he starts, excited, before he cuts himself off with a groan. “Omi, I’ve been waiting to get ya on a real date for so long, but I can’t this week.”

Kiyoomi should be used to the disappointment that having some form of relationship with a doctor brings, but this time feels different. “Okay, then next week,” he says, hoping his voice doesn’t sound despondent. “And it better be perfect,” he adds quickly. 

Atsumu’s face lights up for the first time since he came down and he nods. “It’s gonna blow yer mind, Omi-kun,” Atsumu says, grinning. His pager starts to go off and he glances down, still smiling. “Yer gonna never want to go on another date because ours is gonna be so good,” he keeps rambling, reading the device on his hip. “I’ll text ya, ‘kay?” he asks, jumping up from the chair. 

Kiyoomi can’t help but let a small smile slip, reaching his hand up to cover it. He nods his head. “I’ll be waiting.”

Atsumu starts to sprint off, but skids to a stop to run back and gives a kiss to Kiyoomi’s cheeks before running through the ER. 

Kiyoomi decides that all he has to do is get through this week. Atsumu promised him a date next week, so if he can get through this week then he’s in the home stretch. 

Except he doesn’t realize that not seeing Atsumu makes this week so much harder. And anytime he does happen to catch him, he’s got his nose buried in a medical textbook, or staring at a computer screen. 

The bags under Atsumu’s eyes are explained when Kiyoomi offers to switch shifts with Kiyoko and pick up her graveyard shift so she can watch her kids while her husband is out of town. He spends it reorganizing and sanitizing almost everything in the ER, then goes for a walk on his breaks after sitting too long at the desk. 

He passes by a lounge where he has to backtrack when he sees a familiar mop of blonde hair. Atsumu’s curled into one of the chairs, textbook and notebook open on his lap. It’s the new normal that Kiyoomi has come to associate Atsumu with, except this time he’s wearing glasses. Kiyoomi’s heart squeezes at how cute he looks, a pair of black glasses sliding down his nose. 

He quietly walks into the lounge, green tea in his hand, and stands in front of Atsumu. It takes him almost two minutes to look up and notice someone’s in front of him, and another three seconds to realize it’s Kiyoomi. 

He smiles brightly, starting to close his book when Kiyoomi shakes his head and instead offers him his green tea. “Just saw you and wanted to stop by,” Kiyoomi says. Atsumu takes the tea, blowing on it to cool it off before taking a sip. 

“It’s already time for yer shift?” Atsumu asks, turning his wrist to read the time. He frowns. 

“I swapped with someone,” Kiyoomi explains so Atsumu doesn’t have to put any more strain on his brain. “You look busy, so I’ll-” Kiyoomi starts but Atsumu quickly grabs his wrist. 

“Ya can stay,” he says quickly. Kiyoomi chews on his lip, finding that he’d love to do nothing more than sit quietly with Atsumu, but he does have another hour left of his shift. 

So he says, “I get off in an hour. Can I meet you back here?” Atsumu nods eagerly and Kiyoomi has to bite his lip from smiling. 

It feels like the longest hour of his night, especially with only two patients actually coming in. He can feel his patience wearing thin when the older woman keeps talking to him about how much her stomach hurts. Kiyoomi keeps checking his watch every few seconds, and the second it buzzes to let him know he’s off shift, he excuses himself and promises a doctor will be in soon. 

He’s never done a report so fast in his career, speaking so quickly to Inunaki that he swears it’s a different language. But he’s off the clock, and he takes the stairs two at a time, quickly getting back to the lounge. 

Atsumu’s still there, except he’s changed to a sofa and he’s got a bag of chips open on the table next to him. He reaches for another one, about to put it into his mouth when it hovers in front the moment he sees Kiyoomi. His face brightens and he throws the chip back in the bag, wiping his fingers on his scrubs. Kiyoomi wants to wrinkle his nose in disgust, but the feeling of warmth he gets in his chest when he takes the first few steps to Atsumu takes precedence.

“Have a good shift?” Atsumu asks, smiling up at Kiyoomi. He slides his glasses up into his hair, making it stick up in different directions. 

Kiyoomi nods, spotting a crumb on the corner of Atsumu’s mouth, so he wipes it away with his thumb. Something must have taken hold of his muscles, because when he realizes what he’s done his face grows hot and Atsumu lets out a long groan, throwing his head into his hands. 

“Omi, ya can’t just do that to me. Give a guy a warnin’ first!” Atsumu argues, voice muffled by his hands. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have--” he gets cut off when Atsumu tugs his wrist all the way down and forces him to sit next to him. 

“Don’t apologize for bein’ cute, Omi-Omi.”

Kiyoomi shoves Atsumu’s face away, turning his head to the side so Atsumu can’t see the blush on his face. Atsumu only makes it worse when he grabs Kiyoomi’s hand and intertwines their fingers, resting them on Kiyoomi’s leg. 

“Do ya mind if I study some more? I’m really close to gettin’ it.” Kiyoomi shakes his head and Atsumu squeezes his hand. He pulls his glasses off his head with his free hand and goes back to studying the textbook in front of him. 

After a few minutes and Kiyoomi doesn’t feel like his heart is beating out of his chest, he peers over Atsumu’s shoulder to catch a peek of whatever has trapped his attention for so many days. His chin accidentally brushes over Atsumu’s shoulder and he turns his head to see Kiyoomi. 

They both stare at each other, way too close for Kiyoomi’s own sanity. He makes the mistake of flicking his gaze down to Atsumu’s lips, then quickly back up to his eyes. Atsumu turns away first, back down to his text book. Kiyoomi almost thinks he’s not bothered by the entire thing until he sees the tips of Atsumu’s ears turn a bright shade of pink and Atsumu’s next words come out choked. 

“It’s for one of my patients,” he explains. Kiyoomi looks back down at the pages, his heart starting back with its bullshit and beating out of his chest. 

“Brain tumor?” Kiyoomi asks once he can focus long enough on the pages on Atsumu’s lap, and not the slim fingers holding it up. 

Atsumu nods, pointing to a diagram in front of him. “She’s had epilepsy since she was little, so we were gonna fit her with one of those fancy new implants, but. . .” Atsumu sucks his teeth, letting out a long sigh. “When we got in there, there was a huge tumor.”

“Her doctors never saw it?” Kiyoomi asked. 

Atsumu shrugs. “Guess not. We had dozens of MRI’s but either we missed it or-”

“It grew fast?” Kiyoomi guesses and Atsumu nods. 

“So now I’m tryin’ to find a way to get it out.”

Kiyoomi hums. He thinks he must still have adrenaline from their earlier situation, so when he hooks his chin over Atsumu’s shoulder, he blames it all on that. “That’s what kept you--so busy,” Kiyoomi quickly finishes, almost slipping out away from me .

Atsumu lets out a soft chuckle, reaching one of his hands up to Kiyoomi’s head to run his fingers through curls. “Sorry, Omi. When I think I can do somethin’, I don’t know how to pace myself.”

Kiyoomi stays there quietly, listening quietly to the whispers Atsumu makes as he talks things over with himself. He thinks back to the night when Atsumu seemed so distant and guesses that was when the first surgery was. Which means Atsumu’s been thinking of this non stop since that night. Kiyoomi can’t imagine how exhausted he must be. 

He can feel his body growing heavier with each pass through his curls from Atsumu, and the soft mumbling of words causes his eyelids to feel like lead. He catches himself sometimes, blinking his eyes quickly to try and wash the sleep away. 

He thought he was doing a great job of it, until there’s a jostle under him that wakes him up and his eyes shoot open. 

“Sorry,” Atsumu whispers. “Just figured somethin’ out.”

“What time is it?” Kiyoomi asks groggily. He lifts his hand up to read his watch and quickly sits up when he realizes two hours had passed. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” Atsumu answers, rubbing his shoulder a little. Kiyoomi feels guilty. “I do hafta go, though,” Atsumu says ruefully. “Wanna tell Foster what I’ve got.”

Kiyoomi looks at Atsumu, seeing that his exhaustion hasn’t disappeared at all. If anything, it’s gotten worse. 

“Atsumu, you should go to sleep first.”

“Can’t yet, Omi. Gotta get this to him first.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t think this is an argument he’s going to win, or ever will win. So he concedes and lets out a sigh. “Tell him and then go home and sleep. You won’t be able to get in on this surgery if you’re running on two hours of sleep.”

“That worried about me, huh?” Atsumu jokes. 

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “I have to make sure you’re still going to be alive to take me on the best date of my life.”

Atsumu’s eyes widen marginally and his mouth falls open in a small gape. “Right, right,” he quickly says and Kiyoomi has an inkling that Atsumu’s actually completely forgot about it. 

He says as much.

“I didn’t forget!” Atsumu defends, voice raising in pitch. “I didn’t!” he repeats when Kiyoomi gives him a blank stare. 

“Atsumu, it’s okay if you did-”

“Yeah, I know that . . .  if I did forget, which I didn’t ,” he defends and Kiyoomi can’t help but snort out a short laugh. 

“We can just resch-”

“No!” he quickly says. Kiyoomi frowns, glancing around to see if anyone is staring at them. “Omi-kun, ya don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this date,” he says, quieter this time. 

“But you’ve been so busy,” Kiyoomi tries to argue. 

Atsumu narrows his eyes at him and Kiyoomi leans back in reflex. “Are you tryin’ to get out of it?”

“No!” Kiyoomi says, nearly as loud as Atsumu. He clears his throat. “No, I’m not.” He looks between both of Atsumu’s eyes, then down at the textbook in Atsumu’s hands, unsure he can keep eye contact while he’s saying his next thoughts. They come out as a mumble, sneaking a glance to Atsumu once he’s finished. 

“Omi, ya gotta speak up,” Atsumu says, but the smugness in his tone suggests he heard Kiyoomi loud and clear. 

Kiyoomi lets out a quick breath and straightens his back. Looking up at Atsumu for a brief moment while he says, “It’s all I’ve been thinking about this whole week.” Then quickly looks away before he can see the absolute shit eating grin that Atsumu is wearing. 

“Yer so fuckin’ cute, Omi,” Atsumu gets out and Kiyoomi glares at him, but it just makes Atsumu laugh. “I promise I didn’t forget our date, just slipped my mind--it’s not the same thing,” he quickly adds when Kiyoomi opens his mouth to protest. “Sunday, ‘kay?” Atsumu asks, closing up his books and stuffing them into his backpack. “I’ll text ya all the details.” Atsumu waits for Kiyoomi to nod before sprinting off. 

The rest of Kiyoomi’s week keeps him so busy that he’s not even counting down the days anymore. Each shift is full of atypical cases that keep Kiyoomi on his feet. There are a few emergencies that completely wipe him out, but the adrenaline from jumping onto someone’s bed to perform CPR as they get rushed into emergency surgery is enough adrenaline to keep him going the rest of the day. 

He’s so busy that he doesn’t even notice Atsumu hasn’t come down, though he hasn’t relied on their daily visits because he knows Atsumu’s reached the breakthrough needed to help his patient. They still text, each one sent a few hours after the first one is received.

But as Kiyoomi is preparing for the weekend, finishing up some charting that he wasn’t able to get to earlier, he jumps when there’s a wet kiss pressed to his cheek. 

“Mwah!” Atsumu adds obnoxiously, falling back into the chair beside Kiyoomi. “Omi, I am the greatest man ya will ever meet,” he continues. His grin is so wide that Kiyoomi’s not sure it’s not splitting open his skin. 

“Oh?” he asks, dramatically wiping off the wet kiss from his cheek. “Why is that?”

“I’m the best surgeon in this country,” he starts, ticking off a finger, “I just saved a little girl’s life with my massive brain,” another finger, “and I’ve got a date with a super hot nurse this weekend.”

Kiyoomi can’t stop himself when he smirks. “Hot nurse, huh?” he asks, turning his chair to face Atsumu and leaning back in it. “What’s he like?”

“He’s real prickly, makes people think he hates them,” Atsumu says. 

“Sounds like he’s a bad person.”

“Nah,” Atsumu says, waving it off. “You just gotta get to know him. Once you get past his spiky exterior, he’s like a big marshmallow,” Atsumu finishes. 

“He’s not,” Kiyoomi says, frowning. 

“He is,” Atsumu corrects. “If you could see him now, you’d see how cute he is when he pouts.

“I’m not pouting.”

“Omi-kun, why’re ya mad? I’m talkin’ about my super hot date.”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and kicks at Atsumu’s shin, who quickly rolls away to dodge it. “The surgery went okay?” he asks. 

Atsumu nods. “Tootin’ my own horn, Omi, but I’m an actual genius. Foster was impressed with my gameplan for the extraction of the tumor and asked me to assist him on it, too!” Atsumu brags. 

Kiyoomi doesn’t even try to cover the smile on his face as he watches Atsumu’s blinding confidence. “All that work paid off then,” Kiyoomi says and Atsumu nods excitedly. 

“Told ya, I’m a board certified genius.”

Kiyoomi hums, running his fingers over the hard plastic of the rolling chair arms. “It looks good on you,” he says and Atsumu’s smile falters. “The confidence,” he clarifies. 

Atsumu groans and throws his head into his hands. “Omi,” he draws out. “Stop doin’ stuff like that, it’s gonna kill me before I get to be the greatest surgeon in the world ,” he complains, dragging his hands down his face. 

Kiyoomi lets out a short laugh, hiding it behind his hand. Atsumu watches him, then slowly rolls forward and pulls his hand away. “Don’t hide yer smile, Omi-kun.”

Heat instantly spreads over Kiyoomi’s face. He swats Atsumu’s hand away and turns back to the computer. “Go away,” he commands, but it’s weak. “I’ve got work to do before I can go home.” He doesn’t look back over, but can see Atsumu’s grin spreading across his face. 

He slaps his knees and stands up, reaching his hands above his head to stretch. “All right, I’m outta here, Omi-kun. See ya Sunday?” he asks. 

Kiyoomi gives a curt nod and it makes Atsumu laugh again. He walks away and once Kiyoomi hears the stairwell door close, he drops his head into his hands. 

“Not dating, huh?” Inunaki asks as he rolls by in his office chair. 

“Fuck off.”

Atsumu had sent Kiyoomi the address to the restaurant that he planned for them to go. He doesn’t think anything of it until he looks up the address and finds out it’s an onigiri shop with his own family name on it. 

He’s frowning the entire walk to the store, wondering if maybe Atsumu started going to this restaurant because it has his last name, or maybe because his family owns it. 

That thought is quickly answered when Kiyoomi walks in and behind the counter is an identical Atsumu, except this one looks less obnoxious, lazily greeting Kiyoomi as he smacks some rice around in his hand. 

“Omi!” he hears a more familiar voice from one of the back booths. Kiyoomi looks between the two, then takes the short walk over to Atsumu. 

“You brought me to your family restaurant?” Kiyoomi asks, shrugging off his jacket. 

“Don’t be silly, Omi-kun,” Atsumu starts, waving him off. Kiyoomi thinks maybe he’s overthought it all and maybe it is just a coincidence---

“My brother owns it.”

There it is.

“Well, you’re certainly off to a good start on making it the most memorable date.”

Atsumu gleems, then quickly squints his eyes in suspicion. “Wait, good or bad?”

Kiyoomi doesn’t answer, picking up one of the paper menus and glancing over the list of items. 

Atsumu snaps back quickly after one disgruntled squawk and rips the menu out of his hand. “Don’t bother, Samu is making us a platter.”

Kiyoomi glares at him, leaning back in the booth. “What if I don’t like onigiri?”

Atsumu gives him a befuddled look. “Who doesn’t like onigiri?”

“People who are allergic to rice.”

“No one’s allergic to rice, Omi-kun.”

“I could be.”

“Yer Japanese. That’s like a white person bein’ allergic to mayonnaise.”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “It better be delicious.”

Atsumu slyly grins. “It’s gonna be the best ya ever had.”

And fuck if Atsumu wasn’t right. Osamu brought the platter over to them, six onigiri arranged in a pleasing way over a white rectangular plate. Atsumu didn’t even bother asking Kiyoomi which one he wanted first because he gets his fingers on one of the ones in the middle before Kiyoomi can even ask what its flavor is. 

“Try that one,” Atsumu had said around a mouthful of rice, so Kiyoomi did. Kiyoomi used to eat convenience store onigiri whenever he was running late to classes in university, so he’d been expecting something in the ballpark of that. 

Except it’s not in the ballpark of that. It’s in a whole other field--a whole other country. Kiyoomi tries not to show the absolute bliss he feels when he finds out it’s umeboshi so he won’t have to see Atsumu’s shit eating grin, but it still shows on his face. Kiyoomi has to be present when a piece of fish falls out of Atsumu’s mouth from the smile he has on his face as he watches Kiyoomi. 

“It’s fine,” Kiyoomi tries to deflect, but Atsumu catches him in the lie. 

“Ya li--” he chokes on a bite, coughing it down, “ya liar!” he snaps, pointing an accusatory finger at Kiyoomi. 

Kiyoomi takes another bite. He’s absolutely lying, this is the best ball of rice he’s ever had. 

Their date continues, Atsumu begins to finish chewing before talking to Kiyoomi. The conversation starts with the hospital, slowly moving into their actual personal lives. He tells Atsumu about his parents and their careers as doctors, and in turn Atsumu tells Kiyoomi that Osamu was going to medical school with him until he dropped out after the first year. 

Once they’ve finished their onigiri, Atsumu shouts out, “Samu! Bring us some of yer pudding cups!” Kiyoomi turns around right in time to catch Osamu freeze from where he’s chopping up some ingredients. 

“What pudding cups?” he asks tonelessly. “I ain’t got any.”

“Yer lyin’! I can see it in yer eyes!” Atsumu snaps. Osamu opens his mouth to retort, but stops when Atsumu raises his eyebrows at him, daring him to say anything else. “Remember the deal.” Osamu grumbles something under his breath, most likely a long string of unkind words and wishes of harm, but goes into the back room. 

“What deal?” Kiyoomi asks. 

“Uh,” Atsumu stalls, scratching his neck. “Ya don’t gotta worry about it.”

“Atsumu.”

He sighs. “I told Osamu that if he was nice to me tonight and did everythin’ I asked, I’d give Suna all my surgeries for a week.”

Kiyoomi frowns. “Why to Suna-hakase?”

Atsumu looks grossed out by the formality for Suna, but doesn’t mention it. “He comes home and brags to Osamu about how he got more surgeries than me, and then I think they fuck.”

Kiyoomi’s the one that looks grossed out. “Gross.

“Right? That’s what I’ve been sayin’!”

They don’t speak anymore about it when Osamu brings out two cold pudding cups and two plastic spoons, throwing them on the table unceremoniously. A stark comparison to the presentation of onigiri earlier. 

“Eat up quick, Omi-Omi, we gotta make it to the lantern festival before all the good toys are gone!” He slurps down his while Kiyoomi takes a careful spoonful of the vanilla pudding into his mouth. 

When they’re finished, Atsumu runs and kisses his brother’s cheek who looks absolutely murderous, and Kiyoomi thinks that if they didn’t have the deal, Atsumu would be beaten into the floor.

Somewhere on the walk from Osamu’s shop to the festival, Atsumu slips his hand into Kiyoomi’s and slides it into his jacket pocket, talking the entire time as if what he’s done is the most natural thing in the world and not currently short circuiting Kiyoomi’s brain. 

They can see the lights of the festival up ahead and Atsumu picks up his pace, dragging Kiyoomi along. “We gotta go to the shooting game!” he shouts like a small child. “Gonna get ya the biggest prize they got.”

Kiyoomi is about to argue that he doesn’t want nor need the ‘biggest prize they got’, but the smile on Atsumu’s face catches the words in his throat. 

They do have a shateki and Kiyoomi watches as Atsumu forks over a few coins to the lady with a cigarette dangling from her lip. His tongue pokes out as he concentrates on aiming at the targets. He misses entirely the first time, hands more money to the lady, and tries again. 

On his fourth try, he manages to hit the target for the decently sized teddy bear and the excitement on his face is worth more than any toy he could have gotten for Kiyoomi. 

He takes Kiyoomi’s hand again, leading him around the festival while Kiyoomi holds onto his prize. “We should get some ice cream!” Atsumu exclaims as if it isn’t cold out and they hadn’t just eaten Osamu’s personal pudding cups. 

Atsumu pays for his own ice cream cone while Kiyoomi picks out some sweet potatoes that he wants instead. At least they’re warmer, and he knows he’d made the right decision when Atsumu shivers from the cold. 

They walk around some more, Kiyoomi buys a small fortune charm from one of the shops and offers it to Atsumu. 

“What’s it for?” Atsumu asks. He still has a smudge of ice cream on his chin that Kiyoomi thinks is too cute to actually wipe away.

“Better sleep.”

Atsumu lets out an affronted gasp, putting a hand on his chest in offense. “Omi-Omi, I’ve got a great sleep schedule!” he defends. Kiyoomi will admit Atsumu looks much better than he did a few days ago. Maybe the charm is useless.

Kiyoomi grabs Atsumu’s hand from his chest and intertwines their fingers. “I’ll take your word for it,” he says, pulling him away from the stall. 

They walk past a few shops before Atsumu gasps and drags him along to a photobooth. “Omi, no way! We gotta take some to remember this!” 

A teenage couple walk out, giggling to themselves as they wait for their photos. Before anyone can even think of getting themselves into the booth, Atsumu pushes them in.

Kiyoomi is indifferent between the ‘best friends’ and ‘lovers’ template that Atsumu is stuck between. The timer starts ticking down and Atsumu is panicking, even going back and forth between the two with a child’s rhyme to pick, so Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and presses ‘lovers’.

The first picture snaps quickly, not even Kiyoomi is ready for it. They’ve only got three more chances to take a decent picture. 

“Atsumu, focus,” Kiyoomi says and Atsumu shakes his head to clear his mind. 

“Okay Omi, game time! We gotta do animals!” Atsumu says quickly, putting two hands up in a claw gesture and sticks out his tongue. 

Kiyoomi pulls inspiration from him, not quite imaginative enough to think of his own animal, so he poses the same way, except without the obnoxious tongue. Instead he opens his mouth in a little roar and Atsumu barks out a laugh after. 

“That’s so cute, what the heck, Omi!” Atsumu laughs out, but the timer is counting down too quickly for him to recover, so Kiyoomi just watches him wipe a tear off his face as the camera shutter snaps. 

“Shit, last one!” Atsumu says, a furrow between his eyebrows as he thinks of their next pose. 

Except he’s not thinking fast enough, and when the timer flashes a ‘2’, Kiyoomi wraps his arm around Atsumu’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss. 

He hopes Atsumu collects himself fast enough for the photo to come out good, but the second Atsumu kisses Kiyoomi back, he doesn’t even care anymore. 

If anyone had told Kiyoomi that four months ago he would be kissing this biggest thorn in his side, he’d laugh in their face. But right now, there’s nothing else that Kiyoomi wants to do more than kiss Miya Atsumu. 

Atsumu is brash. He’s obnoxious, and frankly, hard to tolerate. He steals surgeries out from other residents, makes other surgeons cry when he yells at them in front of everyone, and he’s the most conceited person Kiyoomi has ever come across. 

But he’s more. He’s kind, he cares more than anyone else, and when you get past his facade, he’s soothing to be around. Like a cool breeze on a summer night. He steals surgeries because he has a craving to learn. He yells at surgeons for their mistakes that could cost people their lives. He acts like he’s the best surgeon in the room because he has the skill to back it up.

He feels like he could kiss Atsumu forever

The only reason that Kiyoomi does pull away is because of the loud knock coming from outside the booth. 

“Stop kissing! Others want to use it!” some young girl shouts.

Kiyoomi blushes, looking down at his feet and only chancing a glance at Atsumu who looks like a kid at Christmas. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Atsumu asks and, like kissing Atsumu, the answer is easy. 

Kiyoomi nods his head and lets Atsumu pull him out of the booth. He manages to grab the photo strip on the way out while Atsumu is running them out of the festival. 

He laughs as they run down the long line of pop-up vendors, weaving through the crowd. Atsumu slows them down when the reach the end of the vendors, glancing at Kiyoomi before bringing them to a stone bench that overlooks a stream. 

“Lemme see the pictures,” Atsumu says, sitting them down. He keeps Kiyoomi’s hand in his, rubbing a thumb over the back of it. 

The strip of photos got a little crumpled when Kiyoomi was running with it, but they’re undamaged and he hooks his chin over Atsumu’s shoulder so they can look at them together. 

The first one shows Kiyoomi frowning at Atsumu, who is looking back at him with surprise. 

The second one is the stupid animal pose and Kiyoomi tries to rip the strip out of Atsumu’s hand when he starts laughing about his small mouth and how awkward Kiyoomi looks in the photo. 

The third one is cute, Kiyoomi thinks, with the camera capturing Atsumu throwing his head back with laughter and Kiyoomi watching him with amusement.

The last one . . .

The last one Kiyoomi blushes at. He never used to think kisses were pretty. Used to think that kissing was hard, having to set alarms on his phone to remind himself to kiss his past boyfriends, but never offered more than a peck on their lips unless it was heading to his bedroom. 

Atsumu isn’t like that. It was easy to kiss him, easy to get lost in kissing him. And looking at the last picture, Kiyoomi thinks it’s the most beautiful kiss he’s ever seen. 

Atsumu must think the same thing, because he turns his head slightly, meeting Kiyoomi’s closeness. It’s like they’re back in the lounge, except this time Kiyoomi isn’t afraid to do anything. He knows how addictive Atsumu’s lips are and he’s only kissed him once . 

He glances down at Atsumu’s lips and leans in closer. Atsumu meets him halfway, turning towards Kiyoomi, his hand coming up to cup Kiyoomi’s cheek. 

Their kiss stays innocent, Kiyoomi resting a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder, the other resting on Atsumu’s wrist that’s by his face. But it’s as addictive as the first one, if not more. He feels like he could sit here forever and kiss Atsumu--

There’s a loud beeping that rips Atsumu away from him. “Shit, Omi, I’m sorry,” Atsumu says, pulling himself away from Kiyoomi to grab his pager from his pocket. He’s frowning, staring down at his pager. “I’m not even on call--fuck.” His tone has changed quickly and he’s passing Kiyoomi the photo strip, starting to stand up. “Fuck, fuck, fuck ,” he curses. “Omi, I gotta go, I’m so sorry--”

“It’s okay, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says, trying to hide his despair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” he asks, hoping it doesn’t come off as desperate. 

“Uh,” Atsumu starts, but Kiyoomi knows he’s already in his head, coming up with solutions to whatever his page is for. “Yeah, yeah tomorrow,” he says half heartedly and Kiyoomi pretends it doesn’t sting. Atsumu runs a hand through his hair. His demeanor has completely changed. He’s no longer the carefree Atsumu who just ran them through a crowd, he’s a doctor who cares about his patients. 

Something seems to snap him back to the moment and he looks down at Kiyoomi. “Shit, I’m sorry. Yes, tomorrow. I will see you tomorrow and I’ll make it up to ya. Promise.” He leans down, giving Kiyoomi a quick kiss on the lips, way too short to satisfy Kiyoomi, and pulls back. “I’ll text ya, ‘kay?” he asks, starting to run backwards. Kiyoomi nods and Atsumu grins, then turns around and starts running. 

Kiyoomi watches him until he’s out of sight then lets out a long sigh. He looks at the photo strip in his hand and rubs a thumb over it. He doesn’t sit there for long, his butt is getting cold and numb from the stone bench, so he stands up and gets a taxi back to his apartment. 

He does his best to pretend he’s not sad and broken up over an unexpected end to the best date he’s ever been on, but as he sluggishly walks around his apartment once he returns, he knows he’s not going to do anything else besides lie in bed and watch stupid dramas until he falls asleep. 

His phone rings at three in the morning, waking him up from his sleep. He startles, scrambling to reach for his phone and expecting it’s from one of his family members letting him know that there’s been a death. Why else would they call?

Instead, he’s surprised to see Atsumu’s name read on the screen, so he quickly sits up in his bed and answers. 

“Atsumu?” There’s silence on the other line and Kiyoomi pulls the phone away to make sure that the call didn’t end. It didn’t.  “Atsumu? Hello?

“Omi?” Atsumu sounds different. Sounds . . . not like Atsumu. 

“Atsumu, what’s wrong?” Kiyoomi asks, waking up even more. 

“I--shit, I’m sorry. It’s too early--”

“What’s wrong?” Kiyoomi repeats. 

Atsumu lets out a long sigh. “Ya don’t haft say yes--”

“I know that,” Kiyoomi says. “What do you need?”

“Can ya come to the hospital?” he asks, his voice small. “I just . . . I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

“I can do that. Can I meet you in the lounge?” Kiyoomi asks, throwing off his covers and sliding out of his bed. 

“. . . yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up and quickly gets changed into sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt. 

One of the reasons for choosing his apartment was so that it was a walking distance to the hospital. He’s never been more thankful for past Kiyoomi being a picky little bastard and choosing it than he is now. 

He nearly sprints to the hospital as if he’s woken up late and has no time to walk there. He’s running through the doors, barely acknowledging the night shift who wave to him as he makes his way up to the lounge from just a few days ago. 

He’s out of breath when he gets to the floor, taking a few heavy breaths once he’s reached the floor, then walks around the corner to the lounge. 

Atsumu is there, in a pair of his green surgeon scrubs. He’s siting sideways on the couch, resting his head on his hand that’s being supported by the back of the couch. Kiyoomi doesn’t know what he’s looking at, it’s still pitch black outside, but he knows Atsumu seems him in the reflection of the window. 

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi breathes out, stopping just in front of Atsumu. 

Atsumu sighs, turning so his legs slip off the couch and onto the floor. “Hi, Omi,” Atsumu says quietly. He still hasn’t met Kiyoomi’s eye. 

“What happened?” Kiyoomi thinks he knows, but he doesn’t want to guess. He moves to take a seat next to Atsumu, resting a hand on his back. He starts rubbing circles, leaning forward slightly so he can see Atsumu’s eyes. 

“I dont wanna talk about it yet,” Atsumu says. He sounds completely broken. “Just wanna be with ya.”

“Okay. Okay, I can do that,” Kiyoomi says, raising his arm a little so Atsumu can fall into his side. He moves his hand up to start stroking Atsumu’s tousled hair. 

They sit like that for a while, Kiyoomi scratching lightly at Atsumu’s scalp and every once in a while leaning down to kiss the crown of his head. Kiyoomi thinks that maybe he’s fallen asleep, but that isn’t the case when he hears a sniffle. His hand falters, watching as Atsumu's hand comes to wipe at his face. 

“I killed her,” Atsumu says quietly, so quietly Kiyoomi isn’t sure he even hears him right. 

“What?” Kiyoomi asks. 

“She--” he stops himself, pushing himself up from Kiyoomi. He sighs and slumps over, resting his elbows on his knees. “I--” he stops himself when his voice cracks. “I’m a surgeon. My patients have died before, but--” he shakes his head, letting it fall into his hands. “Kiyoomi, I can’t do this.”

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi starts, leaning forward to try and see his face. “Atsumu, look at me.”

“But she . . .” he sits up and Kiyoomi can finally get a good glimpse of his face. It’s splotchy and his eyes are red-rimmed from crying. “She had so many more years, and I took that from her.”

Kiyoomi takes his hand between both of his. “Atsumu.”

“All because I wanted to fuckin’ play God.” Atsumu lets out a wet laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t Omi, I just . . .  can’t.”

“Atsumu, you’re a good surgeon--” Atsumu cuts him off with a weak laugh, taking his hand back. 

“Don’t lie to yerself, Omi.”

“Atsu--”

“I killed her because I had too big of a fuckin’ head and wanted to prove to everyone that I’m the best surgeon. But I’m not. I’m not even fuckin’ close.” He shakes his head, letting it hang. “What a joke.”

Kiyoomi tries to pull Atsumu’s chin with his thumb and forefinger, but Atsumu pulls away. So he goes back with both hands and forces him to look at him. 

“You’re one of the best surgeons I know. You love your patients and you don’t do anything without overthinking it twice . You nearly worked yourself to death to help her.”

“I didn’t help her--”

“You did , Atsumu. With a tumor like that, one that was undiagnosed? How long would she have lived?”

Atsumu refuses to meet Kiyoomi’s eyes. “She would have lived longer if I never got involved.”

“Maybe,” Kiyoomi admits. “But by how much? A month? A year? You did everything you could. For her , not yourself.”

Atsumu sniffles, slowly lifting his eyes to meet Kiyoomi’s. “I can’t-”

“We can’t blame ourselves for every death, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says softly, wiping away a few tears with his thumb. “We’d never be able to get out of bed if we did.”

Atsumu pulls out of Kiyoomi’s hands and falls into his chest, burying his face in his neck. Kiyoomi wraps his arms tightly around Atsumu. “You can’t save everyone,” Kiyoomi says into the top of Atsumu’s head, following it up with a soft kiss. 

He feels Atsumu cry into his neck, softly stroking his back, and whispering kind words into his ear. 

After a while, and the sun has started to come up, Atsumu pulls back. His face is messy, there’s tear stains all over, uneven tones, but he’s still one of the prettiest things Kiyoomi has ever seen. 

“Foster told me to go home and not come back until Tuesday. Told me I had to go to sleep,” Atsumu adds at the end with a light laugh.

Kiyoomi wipes away a stray tear and cups Atsumu’s face, who leans into the touch. “Do you want to come back to my apartment? It’s very close.” He can see the glint in Atsumu’s eye that suggests he wants to make a joke that verges on a sexual harassment charge, but he doesn’t and just nods.  Kiyoomi smiles softly and stands up, helping Atsumu stand. He slides his hand down Atsumu’s arm and intertwines their fingers. He’ll see if someone can cover his shift, especially since Inunaki owes him big for all the times he’d covered for him. 

The walk back to Kiyoomi’s apartment is quiet, Kiyoomi typing away in an argument with Inunaki, pulling up receipts of all the times he asked Kiyoomi to work on short notice. He finally concedes once Kiyoomi shows him the receipt for the time that Inunaki shit himself at work from eating rancid Chinese takeout. 

He stuffs his phone into his pocket, glancing over at Atsumu who is staring down at the ground as he walks, lost in his head. Kiyoomi reaches for his hand and squeezes it, making him look over. “Get out of your head, Atsumu,” he tells him. “Stop overthinking it, there’s nothing that you can change now.”

Atsumu takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, I know.” He lets it out as they turn a corner and Kiyoomi leads them up to the entrance to his building. 

When he brings him to his apartment, he knows Atsumu’s still overthinking things from the way he doesn’t even comment on any of Kiyoomi’s interior design. So he leads Atsumu to the bathroom. 

“You can take a shower, if you want. I can get you a change of clothes.”

Atsumu nods. “That’s a good idea, yeah.” Kiyoomi walks into the bathroom with him, pulling out a towel and washcloth for him and handing it over. 

“Shout if you need anything, okay? I’ll just be across the hall in the bedroom. I’ll leave a change of clothes outside the door.” 

Atsumu robotically nods, closing the door behind Kiyoomi. He lets out a sigh and walks over into the bedroom and starts rummaging around his dresser. He finds an old college tee and sweatpants as well as a clean pair of boxers. He places them on top of each other and sets them on the floor outside of the bathroom. 

His bed is still unmade from where he got out of it a little while ago to get to Atsumu, so he strips back into his pajamas and gets under the covers on his normal side. 

It’s a little while until the bathroom door opens. Kiyoomi is almost worried that Atsumu got lost in his head again, that he would be in there forever, but when he comes into Kiyoomi’s room and he’s toweling at his wet head, Kiyoomi smiles at him. 

“Feeling a little better?” he asks. 

Atsumu nods softly, holding up the towel in his hands with a questioning look. Kiyoomi points to a hamper for him to throw it into. 

“Do you need me to charge your phone?” he asks. Atsumu goes to the other side of the bed and pulls his phone from his sweatpants, handing it over to Kiyoomi. He peels back the covers while Kiyoomi plugs the phone in and sets it on his bedside table. 

He slips under the covers and Kiyoomi pretends it isn’t weird that he’s sharing a bed with someone after months of having it to himself. Kiyoomi slides lower down and turns to face Atsumu who lies awkwardly as if he’s afraid to move. 

“You can . . .” Kiyoomi starts to cut himself off, but Atsumu looks over and then scoots closer to Kiyoomi, burying his face underneath Kiyoomi’s chin and wraps his arms around his waist.  Kiyoomi lets out a sigh of relief and wraps his arms around Atsumu, combing his fingers through Atsumu’s wet hair. “You’re a good doctor, Atsumu,” he says quietly. 

He doesn’t get a verbal response, instead just feeling Atsumu bury his face even further into Kiyoomi’s chest.

“If it helps any, it was the best date I’ve been on,” he adds quietly. For a moment, he thinks that maybe it’s not the right time to bring it up, but when Atsumu lets out a soft laugh he doesn’t feel worried. 

“Yeah?” Atsumu asks, leaning back his head to look up at Kiyoomi. 

Kiyoomi nods, pressing a kiss to Atsumu’s forehead. “You’re literally in bed with me, Atsumu.”

“I promise that wasn’t my intent,” Atsumu says, the first thing from him all night that actually sounded like Atsumu. 

“What was your intent, then?” Kiyoomi asks. 

“To get a boyfriend out of it,” Atsumu answers. Kiyoomi snorts, pulling Atsumu closer to him. 

“I think you did that, too.”