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Assistant: Title: The Story of Us
        Author: thesweetestnerd thesweetestnerd 
        Chapter: 5/11 
        Summary: Atsumu has spent the last year falling in love with Sakusa Kiyoomi, but it's a secret they've never told anybody else.When a car accident snatches Omi's memories from the past two years away, Atsumu is left as the only one in the world who ever knew their relationship existed.
        Contents: Chapter 5
    

    

        
          
          
            With Samu gone, Atsumu knows he has to get his life back on track if he's ever going to get Omi back in his life. Some normalcy will be good for him, and maybe, for Omi too.
          
        

      
        
          me, every chapter: this one isn't so bad!ya'll, in the comments: YES IT ISokay okay okay but REALLY, this one is kinda cute, I think. :') also it's kinda long, idk what came over me but it's nearly 10k lol sorry about thatI love ya'll. Thank you so much <3
      
  

  
  
    
    It’s always a little rough when he and Samu say goodbye. They’ve been apart for nearly five years now, but when you spend the entire first half of your life with someone, especially someone you shared a womb with, it’s hard to separate, no matter how long it’s been. It’s even harder when Atsumu knows he’s sending Samu away without having really fixed anything. Atsumu feels better, physically, but there’s now new anxiety stirring in his gut, the fact that he is actively lying to Samu.Lying by omission is one thing – Atsumu rarely felt guilt for not telling his brother about his relationship with Omi; it was more like disappointment. He didn’t have anyone to talk about Omi with, to describe each and every adorable quirk he had, or to complain about some of his more polarizing habits. Samu would’ve hated that, but Atsumu is sure he would’ve gotten used to it eventually. Atsumu never let it slip and that was just fine with him. Last night, though, Atsumu lied straight to Samu’s face. Repeatedly.It feels gross. He does think he managed to ease some of his worries – Samu at least knows Atsumu will eat now, and Atsumu sends him money for the groceries he bought, but there’s an undeniable rift that has risen between them. Samu doesn’t call him when he gets home, but sends a brief text to let Atsumu know when his train arrived. Atsumu promises himself that one day, when this is all over, when he gets Omi back, he’ll tell Samu everything. He knows Omi will be okay with it – after surviving something like this, maybe Omi will let him tell everyone. Samu will forgive him too, once he knows the whole story. After Samu leaves, Atsumu does pull himself together. He owes most of that to Samu, and a lot to Omi, even if he has no idea what he did.A simple conversation, just twenty minutes spent in a familiar place, altered Atsumu’s mood so dramatically it should be concerning, but Atsumu can’t waste time worrying about himself. He needs to see Omi again, has to find some kind of excuse to get back to his apartment. Atsumu has to persist, because if he slows down, Omi may never remember him. There have to be other things in the apartment that would cause Omi difficulty – he’s so fussy about things like that, preferring to complain about problems until they vanished into thin air (or, Atsumu finally broke and took care of it).Their complex is old and kind of questionable, because professional volleyballs don’t make as much money as people may think they do, and living in the middle of the city drains Atsumu’s wallet. He was shocked Omi even looked at this apartment, but determined to make it on his own, he settled down to rough it.Atsumu will have to add that to one of his videos for Omi – how absolutely terrible he was at living alone at first. Atsumu had no idea that when he asked to stay the night at Omi’s after one of their hookups that Omi would absolutely latch onto the idea, and one night turned into four or five a week. Atsumu never once complained. He told Omi he liked his bed better, anyway.Maybe Atsumu will get lucky, and Omi’s water will go out, or his key will get stuck in the door. Atsumu has a spare, and he could explain to Omi that it was for emergencies. It would convince him that they were friends, at least.Atsumu lays in bed and prays to the gods for inconvenience to strike Omi’s apartment.It doesn’t happen, at least in the next day. Atsumu sits by his phone for a few hours, making the excuse that he’s still regaining his strength and pretending that he’s not waiting around for Omi to need him like some useless, thrown-out tool. After an unhealthy amount of time spent waiting, Atsumu gets up and focuses on cleaning up his life. Samu started a lot of the work for him by organizing his room and providing him with groceries, but Atsumu still has a lot to do to get ready to show his face at practice again. He starts with an actual shower, taking his time and using all of the fancy body washes he had. Most of them were gifted from Omi. Atsumu doesn’t know what’s worse – purging his apartment from anything that may remind him of Omi, or doubling down, so no memories have a chance of dying.He wonders if there are any pieces of him at Omi’s apartment, ones that he would recognize. Atsumu’s presence is everywhere, but Omi won’t know it; he won’t recognize the place mats as a homemade gift from Atsumu’s hometown, specifically made to match Omi’s style of decor. He won’t realize that his fancy, cordless vacuum is a product of hours of debate over web links and online reviews, and that ultimately Atsumu won the battle. When he saw Omi clean with it the first time, a look of pure serenity on his face, Atsumu had considered rubbing it in, but he chose to just watch him in content.  Atsumu kept his own shampoo at Omi’s, the special kind, for dyed hair, but it had run out a few days before the accident. Atsumu had been planning to pick up a bottle on his way home from Samu’s. It’s almost as if the universe is against him. Atsumu reminds himself not to fall back into that dark pit, if not for him, then for Samu and for Omi, who if he had his memories, would be absolutely furious at Atsumu for how he’s been behaving. After an eternity under the hot spray, Atsumu gets out of the shower and begins the journey of fixing his appearance, going from ‘man found on a deserted island’ to ‘adult with hygiene standards’. He meal preps for the remainder of the week, snacking in-between, and sends Samu pictures for proof, along with another hurried ‘thank you’ for the groceries.Normally, he would call him to insult his cooking, or the lack of creativity in his prepping, but Samu sends him a thumbs-up emoji in response.Atsumu adds it to his list of things not to dwell on. After he’s taken care of all immediate priorities, he calls his parents. His mom berates him, in that soft way of hers, words intended to be sharp but coming out with more worry than irritation. Samu’s always been more like their mom, while Atsumu takes after his dad. They used to joke that each parent got their own kid, but Atsumu will be the first to admit he’s a bigger mama’s boy than most. He feeds her the same lies he fed Samu, and just like Samu, she’s skeptical, but ultimately lets it go. He promises he’ll be in top shape for their first game, which his whole family will be watching.Samu’s words ring in his ears – ‘not taking care of yourself’ and ‘ignoring everyone who cares about you’. He sets a calendar reminder to call his parents more.Throughout the day, he’s able to keep just busy enough to keep intrusive thoughts at bay and as he winds down, he uses his remaining energy to make more videos for Omi, retelling tales from their awkward stage, where Omi didn’t really like him at all. He keeps these stories shorter, since it was just a lot of both of them wasting their time being snappy with each other. As much as Atsumu wanted to latch onto Omi from the moment he met him, Omi was still his natural foil, and they clashed over and over again before they fell into a rhythm. As he’s telling his third story of the night, an unfortunate incident where Atsumu served a ball into Omi’s face, he begins to notice a pattern. They’re stories of bickering, shouting and acts of passive-aggressive terrorism, but Atsumu laughs through them all, and he remembers that he laughed, then, too and he hadn’t cared how irritating he found Omi in that moment, he still wanted to find excuses to talk to him. He’s not sure how the team could think they hated each other, when Atsumu isn’t sure he’s ever done less than love Omi a day in his life.It’s interesting what he realizes in hindsight – interesting, and heartbreaking.Atsumu goes back to practice three days after that visit to Omi in the hospital. It’s hard to believe how long days can drag; it feels like he’s been out for a month, but when he walks back into the gym, the only concern he’s shown is for his supposed flu. Shoyo forces him to crouch down so he can feel his forehead, Tomas makes sure he has boxes of tissues at the ready, and Coach Foster makes him promise not to go all out. Atsumu does anyway. It’s all he knows how to do. It’s definitely too much – at the end of practice, he’s drenched in sweat and about ready to die, but he gives a shaky thumbs up when Meian demands to know if he’s alright, and he waves away Inunaki’s taunts about his durability. He makes it, and that’s what matters, and the next practice after that, he’s a little bit stronger.Nobody talks about the empty spot on the court where Omi should be. They go on as normal throughout the week, but Atsumu thinks about it every minute.The emptiness that Omi leaves is not just felt in practice. Atsumu has never been a person who likes to simply  relax by himself. He gets antsy when he’s not being stimulated by something, whether that something be four straight hours of volleyball practice, an all-day hike, or just watching ten-second videos until he p@ss@s out. If he’s taking it easy, it’s usually because he’s being forced by Omi, and that’s fine by Atsumu, because just being near him is invigorating enough for Atsumu’s brain, although he does struggle to keep his hands still when they’re doing nothing but lazing around.Atsumu doesn’t have that anymore, and he’s having a hard time adjusting to the bareness that has been draped over his life.In high school, Atsumu didn’t have any time to worry about being alone. Samu woke him up every morning by shaking their bunk bed and letting his alarm blare, just because Atsumu had a slight tendency to  sometimes oversleep. The last time it happened, Samu left Atsumu behind and Atsumu wailed at him for fifteen minutes on the phone while he hopped into his school uniform and scrambled for his shoes. Samu told him if Atsumu didn’t stop whining, he’d never let him sleep in ever again in his life. Atsumu didn’t stop whining, and Samu kept his promise.They spent all day together, with different strings of people coming and going – girls who wanted to fawn over them, their teammates, friendly classmates. Atsumu basked in attention all day, and then dove straight into practice. When they got home, he and Samu played video games in their room, or argued over who had to do the math homework that night, or watched recorded volleyball games that they missed while they were in school. Atsumu hardly had a minute to breathe in general, much less alone, and he liked it that way. Atsumu spends his adult life trying to maintain that same level of comfortable chaos, but he could never quite match it. It was the being alone that he could never quite get used to. He wasn’t used to sleeping in a room where he couldn’t hear somebody else’s breathing, or not having to fight for the bathroom, or just having someone whose name he could hiss when he couldn’t sleep. He called Samu three times a day when he first moved out on his own, but it was no substitute for him being there, his built-in best friend at his side.Atsumu made up for the loneliness by making sure he was at home the absolute bare minimum. He stayed after practice, setting until his fingers grew too tired; he went with Bokun and Shoyo to restaurants and food trucks; he spent every weekend dragging his teammates from bar to bar.He often got drunk enough to lose inhibitions and flirt with a stranger he plucked from the crowd. Sometimes he brought them home. Usually he didn’t. Atsumu hated being alone, but when it came to having someone in his space, he was picky, so he stuck to fleeting kisses in back alleys or in dingy bathrooms. In the back of his head, Atsumu knew he was just going through the motions to avoid the loneliness that came with nights in. There was no real passion behind his actions, but it was enough, until the next weekend. When Omi joined the team, things changed.Atsumu never thought he’d see the day where Omi would actually join them on their outings. Atsumu asked him so many times that he started hearing the curt ‘no’ before Omi even got a chance to say it, but then, one night, he was there.Atsumu remembers that night clearly, because it marked a new phase of his life – after Omi. “Omi, do ya remember the first night ya came out with us?” Atsumu asks his camera now. He’s lonely in the present, remembering the warm feelings of his past, but recording these videos gives him just enough peace to fall asleep. They grow in number every day – Atsumu’s phone is already filled with them. Even though it’s not the same as talking to Omi, his brain accepts the placebo and so he records one every day. He’s still barely scratched the surface. Every time he finishes a video, his fingers twitch, and the call of the void tells him to send it to Omi with zero context, but then his rational side kicks in and he decides against it.He does wish he had a reason to see him, though. He’s still recovering, Atsumu knows, and though they had ended their last visit on a more positive note than their first, he doesn’t want to push him. It's torture like Atsumu has never experienced, spending this much time away from Omi, but for him, he can do it. He misses him extra tonight, though, recalling when his ‘After Omi’ phase began. “You were so uncomfortable,” Atsumu sighs. “Shoyo was bouncin’ all around ya – he’s a menace when he’s drunk, Omi, I feel bad that ya gotta relearn that – and you were sippin’ yer drink real slow. I dunno, ya just had anxiety radiatin’ off of ya, so I figured I should save ya. I was pretty drunk and couldn’t figure out a way to get Shoyo away from ya, so I just...threw my drink on the ground.” His phone is against the dresser tonight, so he’s free to bury his face in his hands. “It was so  embarrassin’ , but I guess my line of thinkin’ was that if I could make a fool out of myself, it would take some of the pressure off of ya. It worked. Ya laughed at me, and Shoyo came over to make sure I was alright.” With Omi now in attendance, Atsumu found himself more drawn to the team’s table, when usually he would’ve wandered off much earlier to find a stranger to whisper sweet things to. He drank a little less, doing careful and inconspicuous recon on Omi.He told himself that it was because he cared about his teammates, and he worried about someone like Omi in an environment like this – it would mess up their energy if Omi felt pressured, or uncomfortable, or associated any negative feelings with anyone on the team, so Atsumu guarded him.It was casual, almost unconscious, and then it had been three weeks and Atsumu hadn’t talked to a single stranger at any of the number of bars they had been to.“Sometimes, we’d end up sittin’ together, the only ones at the table. The first few times, you ignored me – typical, but then eventually, we started havin’ conversations.”Atsumu hums, remembering the first time Atsumu got Omi to successfully respond to him. They were sitting in a booth, drinking quietly, and observing the rest of their team. It was a rare night where everybody was out, including Barnes, who usually hung back from outings with the kids. They were at one of the ritzier bars in the area, one where dignified professional volleyball players  should hang out, but nobody’s behavior was dignified that night.Atsumu got a front-row seat to the disaster that was and is Shoyo Hinata. Atsumu knew from many long nights that Shoyo was simply too little to contain as much alcohol as he consumed, but he was in rare form that night. They’d won an earlier game, and Shoyo insisted that everybody take an entry shot before they were allowed to go on the dance floor. After checking and double-checking that every shot had been downed, Shoyo then proceeded to order three more for just himself.“Oh, he’s self-destructive,” Omi said from his corner of the booth. His mask was pulled down to his chin as he sipped his drink, and Atsumu tried not to stare, but it was harder these days, not to observe. “Bokun usually reigns him in, but he’s a lil’ occupied tonight, it seems.” Atsumu rolled his eyes over to where Bokun was pressed against a certain dark-haired man – Akaashi, who had shown up at nearly all of their games since Bokun joined. “We might need to intervene.”“I’m certainly not doing anything.” Omi scrunched up his nose. “He should know better.”“He should,” Atsumu agrees. “Tequila knocks him on his ass. Though, it knocks everyone on their asses.”“Not me.” Omi had sounded so confident, so unbearably cocky that Atsumu was challenging him before he could think against it, and amazingly, miraculously, Omi accepted. The stakes were high – if Omi couldn’t take the shot without flinching, he would have to take another, but if he could, Atsumu would have to take two more. They were actually playing a  drinking game  – Atsumu and  Omi . Atsumu felt a small flutter in his stomach, then, something like butterflies, but he pretended it was simply adrenaline. He was too enthusiastic at the prospect of beating Omi to worry about it, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had this much fun on a night out. He lost, spectacularly. Omi threw back the tequila shot with all the grace of a professional poker player, not even twitching. He even inspected the shot glass afterwards, knowing how smug he looked.Atsumu had a nasty hangover the next day at practice. Omi smirked at him.“Ya really had me under yer spell much longer than either of us knew,” Atsumu says now, scratching his face. “Ya were always doin’ little things to mesmerize me. Once ya kissed me, I had a flashback to all the times in the past I shoulda kissed ya first.” Atsumu smiles at the camera. “Ah, but that’s a story for another video.” -x- After nearly two weeks, Omi shows up at practice. Nobody warned him, so Atsumu chokes on his water when he sees him walk in. He’s in casual clothes, mask on and hair pushed out of his face – it’s a look that Atsumu has seen a million times, but it disarms him. “You okay, Atsumu?” asks Barnes, concerned, and Atsumu waves him away, red-faced and sputtering. Omi walks up to Coach Foster and greets him warmly. Coach Foster claps him on the back and Omi shrinks away a little – to be expected. Coach Foster is practically their adoptive father, and Omi hero-worships him now, but this Omi doesn’t know that. Omi doesn’t greet any of them, but simply sits on the bench next to Coach Foster. As the whistle is blown and everyone jumps into position, Omi observes. Atsumu can’t get into the drills. He’s constantly distracted, sneaking looks at Omi whenever he has a brief moment, showing all of his restraint by not all-out gawking. Inunaki throws a volleyball at the back of his head at one point and tells him to get his sh@t together. Meian asks him if he has the flu again. Atsumu blames it on allergies, and gets himself back into gear. At the end of practice, Coach Foster gathers them in a circle. Omi is at his side.“So, this is a little unprecedented,” Coach begins, and he scratches his chin. “You all know Kiyoomi, but I wanted to reintroduce those of you who he hasn’t gotten the chance to meet yet. Kiyoomi, I believe you know the triplets – Atsumu, Koutaro and Shoyo, and you’ve met Shugo. This is Shion, Adriah and Oliver.” Omi bows to them all. “I’m pleased to meet you. I promise I’ll be up to speed shortly, and be a productive member of this team.”Silence follows his statement, thick, like a bubble about to burst, and then Shoyo breaks it with a poorly-contained giggle. Omi raises an eyebrow at him, which causes Inunaki to shatter his own self-control, and he bursts into hysterics.“You two,” Meian sighs. Coach frowns at them, but Atsumu gets it – there’s a smile tugging at his lips too, though he can’t let Omi see lest he thinks he’s laughing at him. He wouldn’t dare – not until this Omi is fond enough of him to allow it.“Sorry, Sakusa, it’s just been awhile since we’ve heard this version of you,” Inunaki explains, still smirking. “It’s surprising.”“Nostalgic,” Barnes adds and Meian shoots him a severe glare.“What do you mean?” Omi is classically flustered – face dusted with a light pink and eyes just a smidge wider. He looks like a renaissance painting, something that belongs in a museum, and Atsumu loves him like this, usually. Not now, though. Now, alarm bells ring in his head as he represses the urge to throw himself in front of Omi and demand nobody else speak to him until he gets his memories back.He clenches his fists in his pocket to help him stay still.“Ah, well, you’re just not this polite, Omi!” Bokun booms cheerfully, like this is a compliment that Omi should appreciate. “You used to be in the beginning, but it didn’t last long.”“Maybe five minutes,” Inunaki snickers.“Hmm.” Omi is frowning now. Atsumu can see the folds of his mask crinkle to reveal it, and he needs to wipe it away immediately, but the words he wants to say stick in his throat.“We love it though!” Shoyo interjects and Atsumu deflates. “The blunt attitude really helps with tough love! Bokun and I respond really well to that! Besides, it’s just ‘cause you’re comfortable around us, Omi.”“I see.”“You’ll get back to it, I’m sure,” Meian says. He tries for a kind smile, but Atsumu thinks it looks sad. “I’m sure,” Omi agrees, words lacking inflection. “I will do my best.”“Kiyoomi is going to start practicing with us next week,” Coach picks up where he left off. “We need to make sure he’s in shape for our game against the Adlers, but I trust that he will work hard and you will all support him.”He claps Omi on the shoulder once more and Atsumu sees in high-definition the discomfort in Omi’s eyes. Atsumu bites back his protective side, raging fiercely inside of him. All it takes is one look from Omi and Atsumu will swoop into action – he’d shroud him in his arms, away from all this awkward tension that suffocates them all. He could do that, shield him from it all, but this Omi would hate that even more. Omi leaves after that. He glances at Atsumu once, but he says nothing, and Atsumu isn’t convinced he didn’t imagine it. As soon as he and Coach Foster are out of earshot, Meian smacks both Inunaki and Shoyo.“You made him so uncomfortable!” he admonishes them.“Poor kid.” Barnes shakes his head. “I can’t imagine how strange this must feel to him.” “Exactly, don’t make it worse,” Meian threatens. “You two know better.” Inunaki sighs, raising his hands in surrender. “It was just so funny,” he says. “Do you remember when he was actually like that? All meek and polite?”Bokun nods vigorously. “He was so nice to everyone! Except Atsumu.”Atsumu grits his teeth into what he hopes is an unbothered smile. “Ah, well, we knew each other from the past. Didn’t need any formalities.” “I miss the days,” Inunaki says dreamily. “When he still respected me as his senior. He’s so bitchy now. Maybe we should enjoy this while it lasts.”Meian gives him a withering look. Atsumu bites his tongue. He often wants to punch Inunaki, in a fond way, but right now it’s backed by malice. They’re treating it like a joke, like two lives haven’t been thrown entirely off-course by this. Omi is stressed, and uncomfortable, and forcing himself to do things that mimic the normalcy of a life that he has never known. They should show a little more sympathy.“Don’t overwhelm him any more than you already have,” Meian reiterates.“Ah, you tell us that every day,” Inunaki says. “It’s like you think we’re overwhelming.”“Enough out of you.” Meian smacks him upside the head again. Atsumu keeps quiet, still going up and down on a rollercoaster of barely held back emotions. He’s coming down from the adrenaline high of seeing Omi again, all warm and fuzzy feelings replaced with iron-clad irritation and worry. He wants to leave already, but they have to hear the final word from Coach Foster, and the last thing Atsumu needs to do is bring more attention to himself.“I can’t wait to teach him everything again,” Shoyo marvels. “It’ll be like having a student!”“Omi is older than you, Shoyo, that’s not how it works,” Bokun argues. “ I can teach him.”“He didn’t forget how to play,” Atsumu grumbles without thinking. “He’s still gonna beat the pants off ya in serving, Bokun.”Everyone blinks at him, and Atsumu realizes that was probably too much. It was definitely too much, because now Inunaki is giving him one of his trademark feral grins, the one that comes right before he taunts Atsumu within an inch of his life.“When did you become the Sakusa protection squad, Miya?” Atsumu grits his teeth. He doesn’t want a standoff with Inunaki, because he’s ruthless, just like every other d@mn libero he knows – it’s like they’re trying to shove as much sass as they can possibly fit into their small bodies; it’s scary.Atsumu shrugs, keeping his cool. “Somebody’s gotta do it, I guess.” Meian ends the conversation with a pointed look at Inunaki, and then they wait in relative silence until Coach Foster comes back to go over their upcoming schedule and dismisses them.Atsumu slugs off to the locker room, ready to go through his post-practice routine. He adopted it from Omi – a meticulous, time-consuming ordeal that included thoroughly scrubbing himself so that Omi would put his mouth all over him. He didn’t need it now, but old habits die hard. He knows it’s going to be a rough night, so he drags his feet, thinking about calling Samu and asking if he wants to open up a business in Osaka so that he can get a part-time job to avoid being home alone anymore. He’s the last out of the locker room, leaving only Coach Foster, looking at his phone right outside of the doors.“Ah, Atsumu!” he exclaims. “I was waiting for you.”“Yessir?” Atsumu can’t think of anything he could’ve done at practice to get himself in serious trouble – not the kind that would earn him a one-on-one talking to. He wasn’t  that distracted during their drills.“You live in Kiyoomi’s apartment complex, right?”Atsumu nods slowly, and then his gaze locks in on a manilla folder in Coach’s hand.“I forgot to give him these forms when he was here earlier. He needs to fill them out before actively participating in practice. Could you bring them by?”Atsumu takes the folder and stares at it with wonder, feeling like he’s been given a Christmas present. He nods like an overjoyed child and nearly starts bouncing up and down. This must be how Shoyo feels  all the time. “Yessir! I’ll get them to him right away.”He walks away from Coach Foster with an unconcealable spring in his step and he doesn’t even care if he sees. He’s got the goofiest grin on his face, but there’s nobody around to call him out on it. This is exactly what he’s been waiting for – the perfect opportunity to see Omi again, dropped directly into his lap.He practically sprints all the way to the complex, using the reasoning that it’s a post-practice cool-down run. He gets nearly there, but then takes a sharp turn and slows to a jog in front of that ramen shop – Omi’s favorite. It’ll be a peace offering, a gift of friendship. Not even Omi can say no to food. He orders Omi’s usual (extra chashu and egg), and smiles to himself the entire time he waits in line.He knocks on his door thirty minutes later, ready to shoot himself straight into the ceiling. Atsumu is rarely jittery – for all of his antics, he’s a pretty calm person, but he feels like he just downed an entire mug of espresso. He can’t stand still.Omi answers the door on the second knock. He assesses Atsumu, who’s still out of breath, probably a little sweaty from all the running and gives him a look of disdain.“What do you want?” he demands. Atsumu is too wound up to be hurt by Omi’s irritated tone. He lifts the bag of takeout in one hand, and the folder in another.“Foster forgot to give these to ya, so he sent me home with them, and he told me to help ya fill them out.”It’s a lie, but a harmless one – and really, Omi may need the help. Atsumu knows he didn’t forget anything basic, but there may be questions he doesn’t understand regarding the contract and such. He knows he barely understood it himself and had to keep calling Suna and Aran to help him decipher it. Omi must’ve been in the same boat, and so Atsumu will be there to assist him. “And I thought ya might be hungry since it’s dinner time.”“I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself, Miya,” Omi says, crossing his arms. At that moment, two things happen. Omi takes a quick inhale – Atsumu sees it through his mask – and his eyes zero in on the plastic bag, trying to decipher the words written in a faded font.Atsumu knows very well that Omi is capable of feeding himself, in the barest sense of the phrase. Without Atsumu, he’s probably living off take-out. Omi’s a bad cook, a true Tokyo boy, born and raised with the kind of wealth that would allow him to spend his afternoons in cafes and fancy restaurants. Atsumu teased him once about how he was probably the one who brought the best snacks to games, and Omi refused to answer, so he knew it was right.Omi got an allowance all throughout college (‘motivation money’, Omi called it) and so he never had to worry about learning how to cook. Atsumu’s seen his credit card statements from those days – he’s never seen someone eat so many fancy protein bowls in his life. There was so much delivery it made Atsumu’s head spin. Omi was lucky he met Atsumu when he did, or he would’ve gone broke from all of the luxury fees. He’s surely well-on his way to it now.“But do ya really want to when I’ve got this delicious ramen here with me?” Atsumu smiles. He has Omi clocked. It’s past 6 PM, which is Omi’s prime dinner hour, and if he hasn’t eaten now, then he must be starving. When Omi begrudgingly snatches the folder away and walks inside, leaving the door ajar for Atsumu to follow, he can’t help but smile smugly to himself. It feels like victory.Atsumu is thrilled to be back in Omi’s apartment. A week feels like a year in this new time period that Atsumu is cursed to survive in, and he misses this place every day. The television is on, set to the news, and Atsumu can picture both of them on the couch, Omi paying rapt attention (because he likes to keep up with current events the old fashioned way, and not through Twitter, like Atsumu) while Atsumu lays his head in his lap and plays one of those mindless games on his phone. He smiles, unable to help himself.“What are you smiling about? You look creepy.” Atsumu wipes it off his face. “I’m jus’ in a good mood,” he says. “Had a real productive day all around.”“I don’t think I asked about your day,” Omi mutters, already looking through the papers, but Atsumu barrels on – he can’t let every bite from Omi get him down. Atsumu remembers that an Omi existed who wasn’t his once. That Omi had walls that needed to be broken down, carefully and meticulously. That Omi was guarded, short, and didn’t let just anybody in. Atsumu can’t be upset that that’s who he’s reverted to. Getting his Omi back will be difficult, but Atsumu has always been willing to work hard when it matters.“What did ya think of the team?” he continues. He knows Omi will have thoughts – he’s probably been analyzing and picking apart their individual play styles since he left the gym. “Pretty good, right?”“As expected,” Omi replies. “I can see why I picked MSBY.”“D@mn right.” Atsumu swells with pride. Omi’s eyes flick up to meet his, then immediately flit back down to the forms.Atsumu’s heart picks up the pace and he decides to unpack the food to give himself something to do with his hands. He’s going to have to see a cardiologist after this – the constant spikes in his heart rate can’t be good for his health. He sets two bowls on the counter and digs around in the bag for napkins and utensils, but he finds none. No matter, he slips behind the counter and into the kitchen, opening the drawer he knows houses everything they need.He freezes when he hears Omi clear his throat.Oh. He’s not supposed to know where everything in Omi’s kitchen is. That wouldn’t make sense to this Omi.“Sorry, sorry!” he cries. “That was rude, wasn’t it? I dunno where my head is.” He laughs nervously. “Everyone has the same drawer for utensils – that’s where I keep mine too. Shouldn’t have helped myself.”Omi stares at him, that calculating look in his eyes. Atsumu holds his breath.“It’s fine,” Omi says, finally. “I’m not surprised you still don’t have manners.”Atsumu huffs at him. “I’m gonna ignore that comment.”“If it makes you feel better.” Atsumu smirks a little bit to himself. This isn’t going so bad, and he knows that no matter where he stands with Omi, the one thing they will always have in common is their love of volleyball. Omi’s eyes light up when he talks about it. Atsumu just has to keep him talking.“Ah, so ya remember Bokun from high school, right? Ya must remember how he was, then, all emotional and such.”“I do,” Omi answers, not looking up from the forms. “He would often have breakdowns on the court, but still managed to be the top ace in the country.” “Yeah!” Atsumu nods. “He figured out how to channel all of that rogue emotion into his plays, so he’s extra scary now.” Omi glances up at that. “Has his status changed? Last I remember, he was being scouted for the Olympic team.” A shadow darkens his face, and Atsumu can’t help it – he laughs.“Ya got nothin’ to worry about, Omi. Yer being scouted for the National Team too, and yer pretty evenly matched with Bo, though I think yer spikes are freakier with those wrists of yers.” Ah, Atsumu is so fond of those wrists, but he absolutely cannot think about  that right now. “Am I?” Omi asks, softly. Then he clears his throat, as if he realized how gentle his voice had become. “That makes sense, then. That always was my dream.”“Yeah, I know,” Atsumu says before he can stop himself. Omi turns him into Jell-O, and all reason goes out the window, but he has to keep himself in check. “It’s all of our dreams,” he adds quickly, to save face. It’s only right at that moment that Atsumu realizes Omi didn’t correct him, or even sneer at the nickname he used. He’s on a roll. He has to keep going.“What did ya think about me, Omi? C’mon, ya don’t have to hold back.” Atsumu grins, and Omi rolls his eyes.“You’re as cocky as ever,” he deadpans.“Ah, confidence is different than cockiness!” he calls. “Yer food is gonna get cold. Come eat. Nothin’ worse than cold ramen.” Omi obeys, albeit begrudgingly, with several glares and huffs of displeasure. Atsumu is going to hurt his jaw from smiling so much – the muscles have been underused. The behavior is just so quintessentially Omi – cooperative, but making sure he doesn’t act happy about it. He doesn’t sit down next to Atsumu, but instead takes his bowl and puts distance between them, leaning against the back counter as he eats. He studies Atsumu carefully, as if he’s not sure what to make of him. “Why did you bring me food?” he asks.“Huh?” Atsumu pauses, mid-bite. “I told ya, it’s dinner time and I thought ya might be hungry.” “No, the real reason,” he says, impatient. “This – you’re acting so casual. Why would this be casual?”“Do ya want me to be mean to ya?” Atsumu tilts his head to the side. “I’m not some monster. I don’t think it’s fair of ya to remember me as a sixteen-year-old.”“That’s all I can remember you as,” Omi snaps at him. “That’s all I have to go on, so you, here, like this.” He gestures to Atsumu’s general direction. “It doesn’t make sense to me.” “I guess I can channel my inner high schooler if that makes ya more comfortable,” Atsumu says, and he’s joking but Omi glares at him all the same.“Your name in my contacts didn’t make sense to me either. I couldn’t find you at first because I didn’t have you under Miya. Why would I have done that?” He whispers the question to himself, and his expression is so conflicted, so confused, that Atsumu’s heart breaks. He doesn’t want to cause Omi turmoil, not when he has so much to figure out about himself first.“I changed it to that,” he blurts. “I did it to everyone on the team.”It’s a half-lie, and he doesn’t know why he said it at all. It’s the opposite of the goal he’s trying to achieve. He wants Omi to think he’s special, different from the others, but the mild panic on his face was enough to send Atsumu into a spiral. If it calms Omi down to know he’s just like his other teammates, then he’ll say that.“I changed it back,” Omi says simply. Atsumu can’t help the pang of hurt that slices through his heart. He doesn’t let it show on his face.“Okay,” he says, in lieu of a better response, and gets back to his eating.“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Omi mutters. “Do what?”“I told you I didn’t want to be your friend,” Omi says. “I doubt we were before. Maybe something. I don’t know, but I told you I didn’t want that, so why are you here? Why are you helping me?”Atsumu sighs. He’s proud of himself, for staying steady through this, but his resolve is wavering. “Ya don’t gotta be my friend if ya don’t want to – yer loss, by the way – but we are teammates, and I’m not gonna stop bein’ nice to ya just because ya remember me as a dumb kid.” “A really dumb kid,” Omi emphasizes and Atsumu huffs at him, but despite what Omi says, he continues to eat his ramen, and when they both finish, he doesn’t kick Atsumu out. Instead, he pulls out his forms and begins to work on them, filling the quiet with the scratch of a pen accompanied by murmured questions and grumbles of frustration.“Ya need help?”“No, I can read, Miya.”“Ya sure? Yer head got pretty banged up, ya might’ve forgotten.”“F@ck you.” Atsumu smiles. Like this, it’s almost like time traveling, back to when Atsumu discovered that it was fun to push Omi’s buttons, that he liked to get reactions out of him. It took Omi some time to get used to Atsumu’s brand of teasing, took him even longer to move from ignoring it, to snapping back, to finally tolerating it and even laughing. Atsumu thinks they’re moving faster, now, and maybe if he’s already got Omi biting back at him, he can get him laughing soon.“They’re thorough,” Omi mutters to himself as he reads. “I’m sure reading through these the first time was bad enough. At least I don’t remember it.”“I can’t believe ya actually read through it,” Atsumu quips. “I gave up after a while and just signed.”“You probably signed your life away,” Omi says. “MSBY owns you now.”Atsumu shrugs. “I don’t mind. I love the Jackals. They can own me. Besides, I behave myself on social media, so I don’t need to worry about scandals.” “Somehow I doubt that.”“Check the internet!” Atsumu insists. “My reputation is squeaky clean. Even Shoyo’s had a scandal, but not me.”Omi raises an eyebrow at that, showing actual interest for the first time since Atsumu came over. “What could  he  have possibly done?” Atsumu laughs, delighted at a chance to share  that story again. This is kind of fun, in a twisted sort of way. There’s so much he can tell Omi. “He was at a reunion for his old high school – ya know, Karasuno – and someone got pictures of him makin’ out with both his old teammate – Tobio –  and their old manager, the cute blonde girl, Yachi. They were all over the Internet the next morning.”“What.” Omi stops looking at the paperwork entirely for that. “How.”“Shoyo f@cks,” Atsumu says wisely, and Omi crinkles his nose.“Ew.”“Ya’ve got a lot to relearn, Omi. Ah, Sakusa. Sorry, old habits die hard.” He hadn’t been told off yet, but Atsumu has to test the waters, wants to see if Omi really doesn’t mind, or if he is gearing up to yell at Atsumu any minute. “It’s fine,” Omi says, curt. “It’s a stupid nickname, but if you call everyone else stupid nicknames too, then...whatever.” “Yeah?” Atsumu grins. He feels like he’s soaring. “I do. Don’t worry, Omi, yer not special.”It’s the biggest lie he’s told so far, probably ever in his life, but it seems to satisfy Omi enough so that he goes back to his paperwork. By the time he’s finally finished looking it all over, the sun has set outside, and Atsumu is absently scrolling through his phone, comfortable, peaceful. This is perfect; he loves this. He doesn’t want to go home, not in the next fifteen minutes, not ever.He knows he’s going to have to, soon, but he’ll enjoy it while he can. He goes back to scrolling and his eyes catch on his ‘Explore’ page.“Hey, yer trendin’ again,” Atsumu says suddenly. “Come look.”Omi walks over to him, clearly intrigued. He hovers over Atsumu’s shoulder so that he can make out the screen, and Atsumu’s entire body flushes, hot. Ah, maybe it was a mistake to call him over – Atsumu didn’t think Omi would actually come so willingly, and now that he’s this close, Atsumu feels like he’s burning all over.He’s like a teenager, getting this bothered over Omi  standing near him, but he can’t help it – his body misses him so much, it just reacts with instinct. It’s a fight not to lean back, like he would’ve done just a few weeks ago, so that he could rest himself against Omi. He sits up straighter, and focuses on scrolling up so Omi can see the news articles splashed across his screen.They’re nothing special – just an update on his status, that he was spotted leaving the hospital in a sling, and he seems to be in good shape. There’s nothing on the amnesia, and he can feel Omi relax behind him at that. “Does this...happen often?” he asks, finally backing away enough so that Atsumu can breathe. “What, people talkin’ about ya?” Atsumu smiles. “Sure, Omi, yer a star.”In a rare moment of vulnerability, Atsumu sees Omi’s face change – it softens, to one of wonder, one of Atsumu’s favorite expressions. He used to call it ‘starry-eyed’ because Omi’s eyes are dark, but occasionally, if Atsumu looks hard enough, he can see a whole solar system in them.“Huh,” Omi mumbles and Atsumu watches him. He’s indulging a little, getting an up-close view of Omi. When he gets his memories back, Atsumu is going to spend hours unabashedly staring, and touching, and kissing. He’ll lock Omi in his arms and just admire. “What are you doing?” Omi snaps and Atsumu comes back to reality. “Sorry, just spaced out for a minute,” he murmurs, and he knows his face is bright red. He’s never been able to hide a blush. Omi’s expression changes from mild annoyance to something much, much worse – clear discomfort.“You should go,” Omi says, each word clipped and deliberate, and Atsumu knows it’s a demand, masked behind pleasantries. What he means is –  get out of my apartment .Atsumu wants so badly to fight him. If he could just take Omi by the shoulders and rattle his brain back into place, he would. Omi is so determined to hate Atsumu, that every time he catches himself lowering his guard, he defaults right back to cruelty – why? What’s he so afraid of?Atsumu could kiss him. He could ambush him, just like Omi ambushed him last year, and just kiss him until he’s gasping for air. He’s better at actions, anyway, and that’s what it took, right, to get them started. He could do it again; so simple, the opportunity right there in front of him.But the look on Omi’s face is unmistakable – it’s discomfort. Omi wants him to  leave.  One of the first things Atsumu learned about Omi was his threshold for being uncomfortable. Some of their teammates whispered about him behind his back – they called him a germaphobe, or obsessive; they rolled their eyes over the way he wiped down a bench before he sat on it, or how long he took in the showers, but Atsumu knew it wasn’t all of that. Omi just had a certain way of doing things, and he didn’t handle discomfort well. They all knew better, now, not to touch him without warning, at least outside of the court, but in the beginning, things were rough for Omi. Atsumu found himself subconsciously wanting to ease his burden, so he observed and he learned.Omi’s tells were easy – it was all in his face. He couldn’t hide when he was bothered, and Atsumu started reading his cues, and whenever things got to be too much for him, Atsumu was the one to reign it in.He did so casually – if Shoyo was too in Omi’s face, Atsumu would make up some excuse to call him over. If Bokun was yelling too loudly, Atsumu pretended like he was giving him a headache. He didn’t do it for Omi’s attention, he just – he hated that face he made; the very same face he’s making right now.Atsumu made sure never to be the cause of Omi’s discomfort, but here he is now. “Okay, yeah, I’ll go,” Atsumu says, hopping up from the barstool. “Lemme just get the trash.”“I’ve got it,” Omi interrupts him. “Thank you. For the food. I’ll pay you back.” “Don’t worry about it, ‘s nothin’,” Atsumu says. “Well, g’night, Omi.”Omi nods, and Atsumu retreats, feeling a bit like he just suffered a crushing defeat out of nowhere. The adrenaline of Omi letting him in still lingers, but now it wraps himself around his neck like a chokehold, twisting into tendrils of anxiety. There’s too much conflict, too many mixed emotions, and Atsumu doesn’t get it, doesn’t get why Omi is so hot and cold with him.The familiar heaviness settles in his stomach, but Atsumu keeps his head high. He will not fall down that hole again, for Samu’s sake, if anything. He’s got a business to run and he can’t afford to come save Atsumu from himself every time he gets self-destructive. No, Atsumu needs to be an adult about this – he needs to focus on the positives, rather than the negatives, like the fact that no matter how he frames it, he’s had successes tonight. He can’t afford to get down. He has too many more stories to tell Omi. He barrels into his apartment and sets his phone upon his TV stand before he can lose his nerve, and when he presses record, he smiles a little less nervously than before.“Hey, Omi! It feels kinda weird to be talkin’ to ya on camera, when I was just talkin’ to ya in person, but I’ve been kinda keeping two versions of ya separate in my head. There’s pre-accident Omi, who likes me a lot, and post-accident Omi, who...doesn’t seem to like me that much. That’s okay, though – that’s why I’m makin’ ya these videos, so post-accident Omi remembers why he likes me.”He takes a deep breath. “I try to stay in some kinda order, but ya know how my head works. Well, I guess ya don’t anymore. Once ya said that I ‘don’t think in any linear way’ and that’s true. I’m all over the place, but it works for me. I know ya prefer things more linear, though, so that’s how I’ve been doin’ for ya,” he pauses, thinks, then smiles. “But I’ve gotta tell ya this one. It’s a good one – I’ll tell ya about the first time I got a real smile from ya.  Man .”He remembers it so well – it changed Omi’s entire face. He didn’t have one of those natural, charming smiles like Shoyo or Bokun, but it just...blew Atsumu away completely. Omi had pouty lips, and Atsumu had been finding his eyes drawn to them a lot as of then, but nothing could prepare him for the way they quirked up, genuinely, showing just a hint of perfect teeth. “It was such a small smile, but the fact that I was the one who got it from ya – it felt better than winnin’ a game.” He imagines Omi now, his Omi, watching this video and shoving Atsumu off the couch for being so cheesy, but he can’t help it. Atsumu has always been a sap – but Omi really drags it out of him. “It was for such a dumb reason too,” he laughs, and he’s transported back to that day – early afternoon, before a Shoyo and Omi’s debut game. They were on their own turf, facing a team full of old friends and old enemies, and emotions mixed in the air like a whirlwind. Atsumu was excited, but  nervous. He had old teammates watching this game; he was playing against Tobio; Samu was in the crowd. He was twisted up so tight that he thought he might burst, and so when he came across Shoyo and Tobio about to go at it in the hallway (which definition of ‘go at it’, he wasn’t sure) he immediately went into protective mode, and rushed to Shoyo’s side. Too bad that seemed to summon everybody else from both teams, and chaos erupted. Atsumu tried to play the role of caroling his teammates, but they were so uncooperative, and in a moment of true understanding, he said an apology to Aran, who had always played this role on Inarizaki.Omi, who had at some point ended up right next to Atsumu, snorted.“You’re not cut out for leadership,” he told Atsumu.“Excuse me – I’d like to see ya try to get these animals under control!” Atsumu argued back.“No, I don’t think I will.”Atsumu must’ve had the most crestfallen look on his face, because Omi smiled, right then in there, pure amusement in the quirk of his lips, and the crinkle of his eye. It was a rare maskless moment off the court, and Atsumu felt like he needed to capture it, to commit it to memory, and to do whatever it took to make it happen again.“So, really, ya were smilin’ at my misfortune,” Atsumu explains to the camera now. “I was so overwhelmed that day – I said I was nervous about showin’ off, but when I think about it, it’s not like it was my first time playin’ Tobio, or the first game Samu and my team watched. I think I was probably nervous on account of ya bein’ there, Omi. I just didn’t know it yet, but all I wanted to do was impress ya.”He shakes his head at his own foolishness. There were so many signs back then – Atsumu ignored them all. “That was a good game. God, I wish ya remembered – ya were taunting me about service aces. Ya know, we have a runnin’ bet about those to this day – ya always beat me. It’s those freaky wrists, but one day I’ll catch up. Don’t worry, I won’t count any against ya until ya get yer memories back and yer back on yer full game.” He smiles sadly now, suddenly shy of the camera. “I miss ya a lot, Omi, but I’m just grateful I get to see ya at all. I really am.” Atsumu stands up and retrieves his phone, ending the recording. When he exits out of the camera app, he sees he missed a message.It’s from Omi. Atsumu inhales so abruptly that he chokes on his spit, but there’s no time to recover. He swipes up immediately.
   How much for the food? 
Okay, this is good. This is an opportunity. Omi is asking him a question and questions need to be answered. Atsumu can work with this. Don’t worry about it, Omi.  He sends a smiley face, for good measure.  You can pay for our next dinner. 
   I don’t want to go to dinner with you. 
He frowns. This Omi really wants to beat Atsumu down. If he were a weaker man, he would give up, but Atsumu still has fight in him. He has to.
   Wow, you really want to owe me for the rest of your life then? Okay. 
There isn’t a response for a few minutes, then comes one simple, irritated word that makes Atsumu’s entire body warm. 
   Fine.  
Atsumu feels weightless.'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
Assistant: