Thread by @liliapocalypse

#SakuAtsu After a match a 5-year old fan attempts to adorn Sakusa’s hair with flowers. Except he’s allergic. He sneezes and backs away, looking apologetic for once. He knows the kid meant well by the quiver of her lips and the tears in her cheeks, sorrys spilling from her mouth.+

One week later the kid watches another match. Atsumu watches wide eyed as Sakusa falls on one knee. The little girl takes out a plastic flower crown and gently places it on curly, raven hair.

“Now you can wear it anytime, Sakusa-senshu! It will never die or make you sick!” +

The girl reaches out to stroke Sakusa’s hair. He lets her. “You can clean it, too!” Sakusa smiles brightly at that, his lips curling with the twisting in Atsumu’s stomach.

Atsumu lost track of the conversation, eyes locked on the faux flowers and the definitely-not-fake smile +

when Sakusa turns towards him. The smile is still there, eyes glinting with the blinding smile, enamoring his senses so much his ears belatedly register the energetic “Miya-senshu! Miya-senshu!”

The kid walks towards him, another flower crown in tow. It’s only then that he +

sees the rest of the team sporting flower crowns that fit their personalities. Hinata’s is an blinding mix of yellows and oranges and Kageyama looks like he’s glitching on the side. Bokuto has humongous black & white flowers with fake thorns that he’s been flexing at Akaashi. +

Sakusa’s is filled with yellows and fake foliage, reminiscent of his high school jersey. He stood out then and he shines now, so radiant it’s infuriating.

Atsumu looks down and sees a flower crown of reds and golds. The kid is ecstatic as Atsumu bends down and she sets the +

crown on Atsumu’s blonde hair. “Sakusa-senshu is right. You look good in red and gold!”

A beat. A blink. Another. “What?”

But the kid is gone, running towards her mother. So he goes straight to the horse’s mouth. +

“Hey, Omi,” he begins, walking towards Sakusa as he tilts his head. The flowers sway with him. “What do ya mean when ya said I look good in red and gold?”

An eyebrow rises, hiding under locks of hair. “That snitch.” There’s fondness in his tone, though, accented by a small smile

“You don’t think you look good in that?” He shrugs and gestures his hand vaguely towards Atsumu.

Is it the gold medal on his neck? His hair? The gold accents in his jersey?

Atsumu tries not to think about it too much. /He’s thinking about me now./

“What about the red, then?”+

“You’ve always looked good in your high school jacket even if it clashed with your hair,” he says ever so bluntly.

Atsumu tries not to think about what that implies. /He thought about me before./

“And the national team’s red is becoming a near possibility for you, so.” +

He finishes it with a nonchalance shrug as Atsumu tries not to think about what it means. /He’s thinking about me days, weeks from now./

Red, huh? Like the blood rushing to his face as he turns away. “Cut the crap, Omi.”

Another steely glare, futile amidst the plastic flowers.+

“You’re stupid if you think you’re not making the team, Miya.”

Atsumu looks up and Sakusa is already—/still/—staring. He looks at the guy who has thought of, is thinking of, and will be thinking of him.

He looks back at his own history, unfolding the timeline of his life. +

There are several moments, several items vacated by the person who has him in mind, his name tacked beside the bullet points of his life like moles on skin—stark and profound.

A nasty spin on Interhigh, a seemingly once in a lifetime set on a training camp shifting to tentative+

tosses on a tryout before cementing towards daily drills and sets tailormade for hypermobile wrists.

There’s only the unknown future ahead of Atsumu. No bullets set in stone, no names yet to dry, only a mass expanse of uncertainty. +

He realizes, then and there, that he wants those bullet points. Those moles. That name.

That goddamned yellow-green plastic flower crown and the man wearing it.

He realizes that he wants Kiyoomi in the canvas of his future, on the grooves on his skin. +

All because of a /flower crown/. How stupid is he?

“You better make it to the team too, Omi-kun.”

“Of course, Miya.” There it is: that smug grin curving like a surefire service ace, solidifying his spot in Atsumu’s future.

A stance. A declaration. +

“Better change yer flower crown then. Could use some reds in there.”

Sakusa huffs a laugh. “Nah. She’ll kill me if I do. Besides…”

Sakusa walks towards Atsumu, taking off his flower crown and removing Atsumu’s. Red and gold sit atop raven hair. “I can just borrow yours.”

// end

sometimes i think of a prompt and i get carried away. this is one of those moments lol