Thread by @notits4you

#SakuAtsuWeek2021 day 3 || crime/jealousy || @sktsweek

|| cw: blood, murder, panic attacks, unnamed character death, abusive relationships, domestic vioence ||

blood. that’s the first thing he saw. well, technically, he smelled it long before he had even opened the door.

the sharp metallic scent travelled under the room, cut through the calming lavender that rose from the bath where atsumu was submerged. initially he ignored it, assuming it came from the last traces of his bloody nose.

but as he soaked in the bath, the smell just got stronger.

for a long moment, he was tempted to just ignore it all together, staying in the bath and nursing the growing splotches of red and purple all over his body, gifts from his boyfriend after their most recent argument.

the bloody nose was just another part of that.

it hadn’t even happened 20 minutes ago, yet already atsumu had forgotten why it had started. they happen so often that it all just blurs together, raised voices and misunderstandings turning into black eyes and bloodied faces, almost always ending with atsumu apologizing for…

…for what exactly, he didn’t even know. but that was the only way to get his boyfriend to calm down and not become even more dangerous, he’d learnt.

the hard way.

there was one time where atsumu didn’t apologize, where he stood his ground and told his boyfriend to fuck off.

it ended up with atsumu in the hospital for an arm broken in three places and six bruised ribs.

the er nurse barely believed the story of a “slip down the stairs” but she didn’t care enough to ask any more questions.

no one cared enough.

that had been the biggest thing atsumu took out of their relationship.

was it toxic and unhealthy? yes.

did he need to leave for his own safety? certainly so.

was he scared he would actually be killed by this man? only on days that end with a ‘y’.

and yet, he stays.

because even though he could recognize all those things, though he could be the poster child for domestic violence —he had always wanted to be a model— two things kept him from packing everything up and running:

1) the fear of being caught

2) knowing he had no one to go to.

his parents were so far away, and they wouldn’t understand why he had left. they had always loved his boyfriend, a charming and successful businessman who was every parents dream for their children.

even osamu had been fooled when it counted.

and with him being away at school in kyoto, his last option was a bust. he knew if he really did go, osamu would welcome him with open arms and freshly made onigiri.

but how could he just uproot his entire life and leave a job he loved to get away?

make that three things.

atsumu’s mind slowly came back into his body, realizing that the smell of blood had just gotten stronger. and what was that sound?

was that someone crying?

his boyfriend never cried.

never.

it would’ve been more normal to hear crashing and breaking, the anger taken out on inanimate objects instead of his favorite live one: atsumu.

sighing, he pulled himself up to a seated position, ears straining for a moment.

yeah, he definitely heard crying.

quickly he got out of the bath and let it drain, toweling off and moisturizing as best as he could with trembling hands.

what made him cry?? had he grown a pair and accepted he was fucked in the head??

‘fat fucking chance.’ atsumu thought. ‘more likely it’s my guardian angel.”

he didn’t know how right he was.

when the door opened, the wave of blood hit him fresh in the face.

way more than a nose bleed.

soft sobs were coming from the kitchen, the same place the stench was the strongest.

he padded along the carpet, quietly, carefully, ice water flowing where there should be blood.

pale fingers reached for the frame, terrified eyes following close behind. the last two years of this relationship had kept him at constant fight or flight stage. especially when the two were alone.

turns out, they hadn’t been alone.

two men were in the kitchen. one dressed in all black, kneeling, back hunched and shoulders wracking with sobs.

the other, his boyfriend, splayed out —motionless— on the floor, a growing puddle of blood beneath.

his head was turned away, bent at an unnatural angle. 100% dead.

the first thing atsumu thought, as fucked up as it is, was ‘wish i would’ve gotten the chance to do it first.’

he considers he may also be fucked in the head.

the other man’s sobs have grown louder, and his body seems more and more unstable. it’s almost like he’s vibrating, chest ripping large and uneven breaths, the chattering of his teeth visible.

atsumu steps closer, moving from the carpeted hallway to the cold linoleum.

the sound of his bare feet hitting the tile makes them both freeze. atsumu’s breath stops, only then does his brain catch up.

the man in front of him had killed his boyfriend. no if’s, and’s or but’s about it.

no matter the catalyst, he had walked in on a murder.

it would make the most sense for the stranger to do the same to atsumu, set the stage so the police would think it was a result of domestic violence, then walk out the door without a trace.

for all intents and purposes, atsumu should be scared shitless.

but for some reason, he didn’t feel afraid.

the relief he felt when he saw his boyfriend’s dead body was palpable. tension left his shoulders, fear almost completely faded from his eyes, though they started to fill with something else.

atsumu took a deep breath, steeled his nerves and took another step into the kitchen.

he had found the source of strong stench of blood.

it was all over the floor, stemming outwards from the puddle under the body. it trailed through the cracks, splashed onto the cabinets, even diverted slowly into the floor drain near the sink.

quite convenient.

and though he didn’t know it yet, he had been right about having a guardian angel.

atsumu approached slowly, all too aware of how the man kneeling had frozen in place. sobs no longer wracked his body, but as he got closer atsumu could see the way his chest rose and fell impossibly fast, could hear the short, sharp breaths coming from the man’s nose.

with each step he became less frozen, as the shaking became more pronounced.

when atsumu placed a soft hand on his shoulder, the dam burst and the sobs, tears, snot and all came forth.

atsumu found his mind was surprisingly clear. he hadn’t looked directly at his boyfriends body yet, all his attention focused on the man below him. he placed his other hand on the man’s other shoulder, giving the gentlest of squeezes.

the sobs grew louder.

he could tell the man was trying to say something, but his words were so incoherent and indistinguishable through the fierce crying and mess of liquids that poured from his face. his chest still moved a mile a minute, overworked lungs trying to keep up with their panicking body.

atsumu stayed where he was, hands gently rubbing the dark haired man’s shoulders, eyes closed and breaths long and even.

they stayed like that for a long, long moment.

“dirty…” was the first word he heard.

the voice, all things considered, should not have made atsumu feel the way he did. it was deep and gravelly, rough either by nature or from the amount of crying being done.

“don’t touch me…i’m dirty…” he managed to make out the full sentence, albeit after straining his ears.

atsumu didn’t think. his fingers travelled down as he sat straight onto the linoleum, not caring how dangerously close his bathrobe was to the ever growing pool of blood.

pale hands snaked themselves around the other man’s waist, not missing how his breath caught.

“i don’t think you’re dirty. i think you’ve saved me.” atsumu whispered into the man’s back, resting his cheek against the cool black cotton of his shirt.

he could hear —mostly feel— the way the man’s breath caught again, sobs renewing and chest shaking, though with less vigor.

they sat there. for who knows how long. atsumu trailing small circles into the fabric of the man’s shirt, keeping his breathing deep and long.

honestly it was a little comforting; when was the last time he had been able to hold someone like this?

when was the last time he had felt safe enough to do so?

the logical part of his brain //screamed// that this man had just killed someone, his boyfriend for fuck’s sake.

the last thing he should be doing was comforting the murderer.

forget about being a witness, this was slowly crossing the line into becoming an accessory.

that didn’t stop him from staying exactly where he was.

osamu had always had panic attacks growing up, and atsumu would be stupid to not have recognized some of the same symptoms. and murderer or not, he had never been a person to ignore someone in need.

atsumu’s legs had long since fallen asleep when the man underneath him shifted, clearing his throat semi sheepishly.

atsumu almost didn’t want to let go but he knew they had a more pressing matter to attend to.

ya know, like the dead and still bleeding body in front of them.

“i’m sorry…i’m sorry that you had to see me like that.” his voice was clear and heavy, the slightest tinge of embarrassment hiding behind his words. as atsumu unwrapped his arms and slid back, the man turned to face him.

‘fuck, maybe he really is an angel,’ was his thought.

he had straightened up to his full height, shoulders back and arms rippling (atsumu definitely didn’t spend most of the time staring at those arms, no way) beneath the short black sleeves.

dark curls framed his face, some falling in front of his eyes. strangely familiar eyes.

his eyes were just as dark as his hair, still shiny but much more clear and determined than they should’ve been for someone who just came down from a panic attack.

two black moles were visible just above his eyebrow, so symmetrical atsumu almost thought it was a tattoo.

other than his apollo-esque beauty, which atsumu certainly hadn’t been ogling at, he noticed how put together the man was.

if he hadn’t caught him crying over the dead body, and if he didn’t have blood splattered on his face, clothes and all over those black latex gloves…

…atsumu wouldn’t have looked at him twice, let alone thought he was capable of murder.

oh right. the murder.

“s’okay, i know how anxiety attacks can be. my brother has ’em all the time.” atsumu offered a small smile, reaching a hand towards the man’s face, wanting to feel if his jaw and cheeks were as sharp as they looked.

the stranger stiffened, and atsumu’s hand froze in midair.

“you don’t need to dirty your hands anymore,” he practically whispered, dark eyes piercing wide golden ones, his voice beginning to tremble again.

“i already told ya, yer not dirty.” his palm made contact, thumb sweeping across skin and smudging some blood.

“s’beautiful.”

“if there’s anything here deserving of being called beautiful, it’s you.” now it really was a whisper, and they had gotten so close atsumu could see the sweat beading the stranger’s brow.

“i’ve thought that ever since you moved in.”

“every day i came home, i walked past your door and tried to work up the courage to say something. and every time i heard this bastard put his hands on you, say disgusting things about you, to you, i just got so angry.” his gaze had turned darker with every word.

“how dare he not treat you like the treasure you are. how dare he think he has the right to be with you, let alone to have the audacity to touch you and hit you and make that perfect skin anything less than. you deserve so much more, miya atsumu. so much more than he ever gave.”

he stopped, breathed, and placed one bloody, gloved hand over atsumu’s.

“let me give it to you. my name is sakusa kiyoomi, and i could be perfect for you.”

atsumu had seen his fair share of cheesy, boy-next-door romcoms.

he would’ve never expected his to start this way.

|| okay i’m done w this for now but i may continue or just make it into a full fledged fic who knows 🤪😌 ||

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