as i crack open another google doc like dads open beers watching the game ive discovered i always start my sakuatsu fics from sakusas pov. like even when its going to cover both povs atsumu will come in later. this is at least the third time and it will not be the last
Because I'm not okay after the release of the Ithaca Saga and because i literally breathe sakuatsu every day, my brain thought of this. I posted it on twitter first so i'll be attaching the link if you'd like to read it over there but I'm also going to simply type it out here. I decided to omit a specific part of the story simply because of time and because I wanted to keep the drabble on the shorter side. Anyway hope you enjoy this. listen to epic the musical it's an absolute masterpiece. and maybe follow me on twitter if ya want.
Atsumu finally returning after twenty long, long years at sea. He lost everyone. His crew. His mother. His best friend. His brother. He's almost certain he's lost himself too, succumbing to the monster inside of him just so he could see his beloved husband and son once more.
And he can. He finally can.
His husband had bought him enough time for him to come back home and reunite. He wasted no time in slaying the suitors that wanted to ruin his family. Finally. With his husband and son.
He's home.
He hadn't seen his son since we was an infant. And how he's grown so much. He's as tall as Atsumu now. Not as built as his father, but strong enough to fight. Pride overwhelms Atsumu as he holds his son tightly in his arms, something he's yearned too long for.
His husband. His beloved. For twenty long years the only thing that's kept him going. In the doorway of his bedroom Atsumu stands looking at his lover on their balcony.
"Kiyoomi," his voice is the ghost of a whisper, yet it carries across the threshold of their room.
Kiyoomi turns to face the man in his doorway. His eyes are swirling with a concoction of awe and fear.
"Atsumu...have you finally come home?"
Atsumu tentatively steps into the room towards Kiyoomi. He places his bow, finally strung again, by the door.
"My love," Atsumu exhales.
He longs to reach out and tuck the stray black curl behind Kiyoomi's ear. He wouldn't think it possible if it weren't before his own eyes, but he swears Kiyoomi must have grown more beautiful each day that passed as he was away. He's breathtaking.
"Before we embrace," Kiyoomi begins, "I have one request to ask of you."
"Anything for you."
Kiyoomi gestures to the bed on one side of the room. "Could you move the wedding bed for me?"
Atsumu could not believe his ears. He had carved their wedding bed from the olive tree they first met under. He would have to cut the bed free from the roots. That would mean cutting away a piece of their love.
"How could you ask this of me? You know I won't cut the bed from the olive tree."
The sagging in Kiyoomi's shoulders seemed to lift as he was doused in relief. Only his husband would know that of their wedding bed.
He's certain now.
Atsumu is finally home.
Kiyoomi is rushing into his husband's arms and it would seem Atsumu has been prepared to catch him for twenty years the way he lifts him with ease yet holds him so tenderly. Ink black pools and honey brown eyes glossed over as they admire each other in the setting sunlight.
"My Atsumu," Kiyoomi exhales like it's the first breath he's taken in twenty years. He presses his forehead to his husband's and they hold each other for what feels like forever yet also not long enough.
Atsumu waits for Kiyoomi to pull back. When he does, Atsumu cups his face, tracing his jawline with calloused thumbs.
"My beloved," he whispers back, "My Kiyoomi."
"You're home," a quiet sob falls from Kiyoomi's lips.
"I'm home," Atsumu assures him, pulling him into his chest once more. He caresses his hair as he repeats the two words like a mantra.
There’s a pit in his stomach he can’t quite place. All he knows is he feels an overwhelming need to care for her. Like he was molded from the dust of the same star as she, and he was placed on this path to reunite and hold her as she trembles and feed her soup when her arms are too tired.
