mari ♡

got to draw some assorted fem haikyuu characters today … mmmyeah #art #hq

Or he could just head back inside and start getting ready for that evening. He looked down at the envelope in his hands.

He hoped there would be cake.

~tbc~

Kiyoomi stared at the bushes long after Atsumu was gone. In part due to the backlash from how heated their words had gotten, and partly because he did not know what to do next.

He could go back to his chair, with the walking interruption now gone.

Kiyoomi frowned at his wording. “I don’t think that’s how you–”

But Atsumu had a single-minded focus now, stomping back to the bushes throwing a lousy middle finger back at Kiyoomi, with a muttered “Later, fucker,” escaping his lips.

“Also fuck you, I’m fuckin’ great at apologizing. I can apologize to anyone, just not undeserving pricks like you.”

Kiyoomi gave him a flat stare. “Really?”

“Really, princess,” Atsumu puffed up his chest. “In fact, I’m gonna prove it to ya. I’m gonna apologize the fuck outta people.”

“Right,” Kiyoomi felt annoyance flooding back in. “You wouldn’t know a sincere apology if it hit you in the face.”

“Ya know I like my face gettin’ hit, bitch, no kink shaming,” he pointed a finger at Kiyoomi.

He didn’t want what they had to be a transaction anymore. He was sick of Atsumu acting like he owed Kiyoomi, when they had been friends once. So he had opened up, and gotten his heart broken for it.

Atsumu scoffed, crossing his arms. “Well, tough luck.”

Atsumu was breathing hard, and Kiyoomi waited a few breaths before responding.

“Yes, actually,” he sighed. “That would be a good start.”

Kiyoomi knew where the bitterness was coming from. He did, and that had been the whole point of opening up to Atsumu.

Kiyoomi flinched, but Atsumu was far from done.

“Well, tough luck, princess. Ya don’t get to buy someone like meat then decide ya want them to be a real person with real feelings. What do ya want me to do, huh? Say I’m sorry for sayin’ fuck you the second ya opened up to me?”

Kiyoomi must have let something show on his face, because Atsumu’s voice turned cold.

“What do ya want me to say, Kiyoomi? That I’m sorry I couldn’t just take yer word for it when ya said ya liked me more than just fer my body and the things that I do to ya? Hell, fer the things I let ya do to me?”

golden eyes hardening against the light. “Yea, right. Apologize fer what, being yer plaything?”

Kiyoomi ignored then sharp tug on his chest. “Go home, Atsumu.”

“Apologize fer what, Yer Highness? For not playin’ into yer romance fantasy when ya wanted something other than dick for a change?”

“Ya can’t be serious, Omi. What do I hafta do to get back to how things were between us?”

“An apology would be nice,” Kiyoomi mumbled, knowing it was an impossible quest. They could never go back to how things were.

He watched as Atsumu built his walls back up,

“One of your many victims, and hopefully a gracious host.”

“Wait–” Atsumu grabbed the sleeve of his robe for just a second, letting go once Kiyoomi turned to glare at him.

“An apology would be nice,” Kiyoomi mumbled, knowing it was an impossible quest. They could never go back to how things were.

It would be a nice change from his late-night ice-cream diet.

“Fucking Oikawa!” Atsumu screeched, and Kiyoomi knew he had reached the signature at the bottom of the invitation.

“Yes, Oikawa,” Kiyoomi snatched the envelope back, turning his back to Atsumu.

He had trouble keeping the contempt out of his voice. He knew Miya Atsumu was a slut, of course. He just hadn’t known the extent of it until he saw the invitation. Apparently the party was a yearly thing, right on Halloween.

Kiyoomi hoped there would be cake.

“An 'anti-Atsumu' party?” He read out loud. “What the fuck is this?”

“The consequences of your actions, apparently,” Kiyoomi deadpanned. “I got an honorable invite as your freshest ex.”

He was sure he would hear paper crinkling if it wasn’t for the high-quality paper that was used. Oikawa sure knew how to throw a party, and Kiyoomi could appreciate his attention to detail, especially in his papery and penmanship.

He watched as Atsumu took in the information on the card.

“Considering the invite I received this morning,” Kiyoomi waved the envelope in his hand. “Yes, actually. I do.”

Atsumu frowned and grabbed the envelope. Kiyoomi let him have it, basking on the outrage on the other man’s face as he read the invitation.

“Miya,” he tried to keep his voice neutral. “I do not want to have sex with you. I do not even want to talk to you. It is not that hard to understand, go find a fuck elsewhere.”

“What, ya think I’ll fuck anyhting that moves?” Atsumu sounded bitter.

Don’t tell me yer ready to give up some amazing sex just ‘cause of one petty fight.”

He sounded like a petulant child, and Kiyoomi wondered if he had always sounded that way.

And people called him spoiled.

“What I want is for you to get the fuck out of my property.” He stepped around Atsumu once again, dropping his book and picking up the mail he had left on the entry table before he had stepped outside.

Atsumu didn’t listen. “Ya can’t seriously still be mad about the other night, Omi.

There was no way that attitude used to do it for him. Just, no fucking way.

He didn’t dignify the blond with a response.

“Omi-omi,” Atsumu walked around him until they were face to face. “C’mon now, ya know ya want this.”

“Omi,” the blond whined, with no hint of self-respect. “C’mon, ya can’t keep ditching me forever. I know fer a fact ya received my nudes, so let’s do somethin’ about that built-up tension, yea?”

Kiyoomi wanted to facepalm. Hard. Or maybe faceplant on the floor.

He rolled his eyes so hard his head thumped against the back of the chair. “You don’t work here anymore. Leave.”

Kiyoomi gathered his book and got up, ready to lock himself inside the house. He took out his shades and retied his robe, noticing how Atsumu traced the movement with his eyes.

Kiyoomi tried to compose himself, settling back on his chair and crossing his arms. “What the hell are you doing here, Miya?”

Atsumu tsked, propping an arm on the stand of his parasol, feigning poise. “I asked ya first, handsome.”

frantically looking around, trying to find wherever the hell his little nightmare had crawled out from. His eyes settled on a familiar form walking over from the bushes that blocked the service gate from view.

Trust Miya Atsumu to appear out of thin air at the mere thought of the word quiet.

He craved it like he had never craved anything in his life. But all he was left with now were fancy lounge chairs, and a pool he wouldn’t swim in. It remained still, and quiet, just like the rest of the manor.

“Watcha doin’, hot stuff?”

Kiyoomi jumped out of his seat,

when another body, no longer dry, had settled by his side. There were bugs. There were tiny rocks that got stuck in his shoes, and there was laughter.

Not only from the man next to him, but from Kiyoomi as well.

And Kiyoomi missed it.

The lake had been dirty, same as the rocks. They hadn't been comfortable to sit on, but having his back supported helped. Sharing warmth wasn’t so bad either, even on sunny days.

The water... Kiyoomi wouldn’t know how the water felt, other than the few drops he had been subjected to

There was no logical reason to subject himself to unknown places when he had everything he could possibly want right here, at the manor where he was raised.

/‘M gonna ruin ya, Omi. Yer gonna want nothing else after this./