My day 5 illustration for Angst week! For star disease and hanahaki disease! An illustration to this wonderful fic my friend wrote! Make sure to check it out!!
Summary: Miya Atsumu realises how much he loves his boyfriend when it's too late
Warnings: blood, fight, hospitals, open ending
“I hate you, Miya!” Sakusa panted from the fight, and even the other could feel the tiredness radiating from his form. His eyes were diluted but kept their focus. His voice was cracking all over his shouted sentences, slowly getting hoarse.
"I didn't force you to be in a relationship with me, for fuck's sake! If you hate it that much, why don't you just turn your back on me like you do with all your problems and walk away?" Atsumu asked, seeming much more collected than his boyfriend. He wasn’t short on his breath, nor did he care for what left his mouth.
"Maybe that's what I should have done from the start. I should have rejected your pathetic ass confession you could barely even say and treat you like the person you are" the spiker grabbed a vase from the coffee table—one that was a gift from his mom—and threw it at Atsumu, who didn’t even try to dodge it. He just let it break on his chest and fall to the ground, not taking his rage-filled eyes off of Sakusa.
"What was that? The Almighty Sakusa Kiyoomi feeling sorry for someone? Feeling pity? Or even feeling anything??" Atsumu in return sent a mug flying. It barely missed the targeted head, as Sakusa caught it. And also broke it with a shaky fist.
"Me, the Almighty? I'm not the one going around saying how fucking perfect I am and how everyone who is slightly feeling tired or not always giving their 200% can lick dirt and fuck off!" a pair of mole spotted hands took off, and for a moment Atsumu thought he was going to get hit. But instead, Sakusa only grabbed his collar, shaking him by it with every word he spat out.
"Because you never go around and you never say anything unless it's to make fun of me or hurt me!" the blonde grabbed onto his hands. They felt ice cold against his hot, burning hands. He took a step forward, forcing the other to retreat, barely not stumbling on his own legs.
"Why, how else am I supposed to act? Just stand there and silently endure the way you talk to me?" Sakusa suddenly threw his hands in the air, catching his lover off guard, thus being able to push him to the ground.
"Endure? Endure what exactly?” the setter jumped up at this as if nothing had happened. Sakusa raised his hands, maybe in defence, but the other hit them both away, fuming. “Me accumulating to you and changing myself in a way you would maybe like me? Is it that hard the big Sakusa Kiyoomi can't handle?"
"So this is all it was about?” a cruel grin appeared on Sakusa’s face, making him look like a distorted version of himself. “Shaping yourself so you would be loved by someone? And what made you pick me? I seemed the easiest target? Or you missing your brother and wanting someone else to replace him in your heart?"
"At least I have a heart!!"
Tick.
And tock.
Breathing in.
And breathing out.
Sakusa let the other go slowly and Atsumu did so, too. He was still filled with rage, but the pair of dark eyes didn't match the fire burning. He stepped away and started his way to the door, only grabbing his keys on the way.
"Don't you dare, Kiyoomi! Don't you dare walk out on me like that!" another plate went flying across the room, only to meet its end on the broad back of the spiker, already opening the door. Not even looking back, he walked out.
The heavy panting quickly turned into panic in Atsumu's lungs and ran after him after just a second of hesitation.
"Don't you come after me. Or that will be the last thing you do" the sharp voice of Sakusa cut both Atsumu's actions and heart in half, stopping him by the doorway as he continued his way to the car in the pouring rain.
"You know what? Then don't even come back!" Atsumu shouted back at him, but he didn't seem phased by what he said. He just watched as his boyfriend— was he even still in a relationship with him? —drove away, still panting from all the emotions.
He slowly closed the door after himself and collapsed to the floor. He angrily ran his fingers through his already messy hair.
"Shit."
But he couldn't take back what he said. Even if once he did mean them. And now he had to wait it out until Sakusa calmed himself down and—hopefully—came back.
As he looked around in the house, it was a mess. And not just the usual mess with clothes all over. No, it was as if a tornado went loose inside, destroying everything in its path. But, Atsumu realised, that's exactly what happened. They started as a small and harmless rain with their usual bantering about some leftover crumbs on the counter. His own quickly angered and kind of a hothead nature that collided with the coldness of Sakusa quickly grew into a heavy storm that went havoc spiralling more and more out of control with every word said—or later shouted. Not even the room could escape something like this. Broken mugs, plates and glasses everywhere, the dining table pushed aside and the dinner from it now on the floor, their pictures poking out from under the broken frames, as if reminding the setter of the happy and carefree past they just shattered.
Atsumu tried to stand up to clean up at least a bit, but he slipped on something on the floor. It was a blood wetted piece of cloth. As the setter raised it to take a look at it, he recognised it as being Sakusa's sock. He stepped into a broken plate and took the sock off when the wetness of the blood annoyed him.
The voice of him saying 'I hate you, Miya' haunted him even when he managed to get up from the floor. The utmost confidence and hatred that radiated from his words through the whole fight really made Atsumu wonder if he meant any words he said. He only called him Miya on two occasions. When playfully and harmlessly teasing each other or when he was mad.
He brought the sock to the bathroom, along with the torn apart pillows and blankets, putting them in the laundry basket. It was almost full. He should also put some clothes to wash… but he had more urgent things to take care of now. At least only the living room and the kitchen was destroyed.
Somewhere along the lines, his vision got blurred so much that he couldn't even point out which direction he was facing. As he raised his hands to touch his eyes, fat teardrops met their ends on his shirt, pants and the floor as they raced down on his cheeks. And at this, his vision also cleared. Just enough to be able to make out the broken mug he threw at Sakusa. It had smaller and bigger pieces of it around him. The first-ever really romantic gift he got from the other. The act itself still warmed his heart as he reached down for the biggest part remaining together. On that part was a picture of their hands entangled. The perfectly tended fingers of Atsumu with the long nails he kept short—possibly the only part of him that Sakusa wasn't disgusted by from the get-go—, together with the fragile-looking but firm fingers and bitten down nails of the spiker, dotted by moles he couldn't stop kissing.
It all felt so far away by now. Their lovely-dovey nature in their own unique way that started to drive everyone else up the wall seemed like a distant memory. Or rather, a fairy tale.
After long hours, Atsumu’s tears have finally come to completely dry out, leaving him gasping for air through frequent hiccups and with hurting eyes and lungs. Upon rising from the ground, his eyes scanned through the apartment in search of his partner, only giving a negative answer. Sakusa's been out for hours by now, and though normally Atsumu wasn't worried when the other was by the wheel, his calming down drive hasn't been this long. And he couldn't even ignore the growing pain of anxiety forming into a bigger and bigger ball of cramps in his upper belly, either.
He didn't have time to think about it for long, as soon their landline phone rang, and Atsumu jumped on it as foxes jump headfirst into the snow at the noise of a prey; precisely and deadly.
"Omi-kun! Where are yo-"
But his excited and relieved greeting was cut short, and the setter felt like he received a punch in his guts from a professional boxer. The caller was from a hospital, and Sakusa just got in the emergency room. She called only to inform, but Atsumu didn't need more. He thanked her as fast as he could, and not even bothering to close the door or to dress up, he ran out into the storm, all the way to the hospital. His lungs were burning, his legs on fire, the rapid rain cutting his open skin like knives, but he couldn't care less.
Upon arriving, soaking wet and panting as if he’s run a marathon, a nurse guided him to the room, telling him to wait until the doctors came out. Not really having a choice, he sat down. And tried his best not to think. Especially not remembering the pained and almost broken look of Sakusa had in the last moments before he drove off. Or his own rage-filled shape in the reflection of the darkest green eyes that were almost black. How the spiker's hands shook and then came to a halt as if he had a short circuit. In just a matter of seconds, he went from a fiery volcano that demolished everything in its past to the ice caps that though cold, they're also the ones being demolished. All because of a simple sentence he said. It was all his fault. If he didn't overstep the line, Sakusa wouldn't have gone out to drive in rage and he wouldn't be fighting for his life now and-
The doctors came out. Atsumu stood up alarmed. After a few exchanged words, they informed him of the situation and finally let him inside. He felt weak and unsure to his core, but he went inside.
Sakusa looked like a broken machine, laid upon a table to be repaired. Then cold, lifeless colour the lights painted on him only enhanced the ghost-like appearance as it mixed with the now pale complexion of the spiker. As Atsumu looked at him, his skin wasn't that much different in colour from the gauze they wrapped his injuries in. The huge sack that was hanging on his right, with the dim pee coloured liquid that slowly dropped into the tube that connected into his gauzed-over hand to keep the needle in place and the few more infusions that were here and there forced into him didn't make the setter feel relieved even if he should have been. According to the machine, his boyfriend was pretty much alive. And if he wouldn't have seen the state the other was in, it would have been enough for a celebration. But now, the barely visible breath and the other, more silent machine only reinforced in Atsumu what the doctors have already told him.
A coma. He entered a coma, and Atsumu was the sheer cause of it. No one told him that, of course, but no one needed to. He knew it deep down even if he didn't want to admit it. And now, not even his twin was there to help him snap out of this or to help him deal with it. Not even the ever-energetic team, not his own boyfriend. He was completely alone to carry the guilt and burden.
Atsumu couldn't bear it anymore. He basically collapsed onto the white chair beside the bed. The things he threw at the other, both physical and verbal things, came back to haunt him now. He thought his tears have all dried out, and yet, here he was, burying his face into his hands again.
"Fuck!" the setter sobbed through his hands before attempting to wipe his tears away. "Shit, I'm sorry, Omi" he tried again, still as weakly as before, and reached out for his hand. He couldn't really hold onto it because of the pulse oximeter but feeling his hand was enough. Even if said hands were cold, almost as if he was holding a statue.
Ah, maybe a statue would be more exact than a machine, Atsumu thought. The lifeless and cold grey that Sakusa's skin now had really did remind the setter of classical greek statues, all of which looked like they could start to move any second. But all he wanted now is for this statue to start moving. To hit him, to shout at him, to break up with him, to start crying, or even just to breathe more regularly. He would have even sold his soul for that if it were possible.
“Please, Omi” Atsumu begged again as he carefully brushed on the fragile fingers of his boyfriend, the way he always loved. “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean all of what I said. You can just be really annoying. Don’t get me wrong, I am, too! It just-” he took a deep breath to calm his cracking up sobs before he would continue. “It’s been a rough week for the both of us.”
“Who am I kidding?!” the setter’s other hand gripped onto his own thigh, shaking in frustration. “I shouldn’t have been such an idiot! I should’ve given you your space and- I threw so many bad things, horrible things at you. Can you even forgive me?” he tried to put on a weak smile as his blurred vision wandered onto Sakusa’s face. “I can’t lose you. Please, I swear I’ll do better. I will do it. Just for you. Just please-” at this point, Atsumu gave up in trying to hold his tears back as he choked on his own words. He looked away from the ghost-like face of his love to wipe those annoying tears away before he rose his head back up.
“Just please, give me a sign” he begged with a stifled voice.
Hey skts nation (or anyone, really) would it be just me screaming into a void or would people actually care if i posted my in-plan skts multiple chapter series im planning
2087
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