We Don't Need Memories | SakuAtsu

Chapter Eighteen

"What's all this for?" Kiyoomi asked, stepping into the dimly lit living room. Pictures were scattered on the couch and coffee table, on the floor, and Atsumu's lap.

Atsumu grinned, looking up at Kiyoomi. "Sit and I'll explain."

Kiyoomi obeyed Atsumu's wishes and sat down next to the blond, finally observing the book in front of him.

"Is that a picture book?" Kiyoomi asked grabbing the book with its mostly-empty slots for photos. Atsumu nodded and pointed to the different piles of photos.

"I'm collecting photos all from throughout our relationship," Atsumu leaned over Kiyoomi's shoulder and flipped through some of the earlier photos of the book. Kiyoomi's jaw dropped at the sight of all of the memories. Some of the pictures were perfectly clear, and it was easy to tell that it was planned or that they had posed for it, but the blurrier photos were the ones drawing Kiyoomi's attention more.

The blurry ones look as though the photos had been taken without warning. They felt more carefree than the others. More memorable.

A blurry kiss between the two. An embrace after the win of a game. Cuddling each other with the blanket that would forever be considered "their blanket".

Kiyoomi turned his head to place a kiss against Atsumu's cheek. "This is amazing, Atsu'."

"Thanks, Omi," Atsumu smiled, pulling the book back onto his lap as he slid more photos into the slots.

"How did you get all of these photos? Most of these look like they were taken by someone else."

"Teammates, family members, friends. Anyone who happened to see us doing something cute and managed to snap a picture of it," Atsumu kept his eyes fixed on the book in his hands as he strategically placed photos into the individual slots. "Do you have any pictures you could send me that I could get printed?"

Kiyoomi scratched his chin. "I'm not sure. I'll be sure to check though."

Atsumu hummed as a thank you. "Now you understand why I take pictures of everything?"

Nodding, Kiyoomi stood up and headed over to the kitchen. But not before Atsumu muttered one last sentence.

"To hell with old high school banners."

Kiyoomi laughed, thinking back to Inarizaki's banner.

"To hell with old high school banners," Kiyoomi repeated, a smile appearing on his face.

~~~

The weeks following the funeral were highly eventful for Kiyoomi. The numb feeling from the funeral filled his body for most of the weeks. Gradually, Kiyoomi had allowed himself to process Atsumu's death, breaking down behind a closed door when the weight became too much. Osamu had offered a room to Kiyoomi in his house for as long as he needed, and Kiyoomi had gratefully taken him up on the offer and spent a month in Osamu's small house. 

But, no matter how tightly Kiyoomi pulled their blanket close to his chest on the nights he cried the most, he still longed for the feeling of Atsumu's arms to wrap around his torso like they had so many times before. He felt empty as he slept, with no one to keep an arm around in the cold of the late winter months.

After about a month of Kiyoomi staying at Osamu's, he got a call from Atsumu's parents. His parents had requested for Atsumu's things to be shipped to their house, but they were allowing Kiyoomi to go through the stuff first before he sent it off. 

So Kiyoomi took the bitter travel back to their small house, and for the past week, Kiyoomi had spent most of his days sorting through trinkets, articles of clothing, and other belongings of Atsumu from room to room. Multiple times throughout the week, he forced himself to stop when memories came flooding back to him and he began breaking down. 

The day Kiyoomi had scheduled for going through their bedroom had arrived, and Kiyoomi knew that it would be the hardest by far. He slowly crawled out of his once-shared bed, sighing as he looked towards the empty side of the bed. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair as the morning grogginess overcame his body. 

He made his way to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, in hopes of being able to stay awake long enough to go through Atsumu's things.

The house felt like it did when Kiyoomi and Atsumu had first moved in, with boxes lining different parts of every room. Except, this time the boxes symbolized loss in their relationship instead of growth.

Once he had something to eat, Kiyoomi made his way back to the shared bedroom. He started in the closet, pulling out sweatshirts and nicer clothing that Atsumu had worn at one point. When Kiyoomi found Atsumu's MSBY jacket, he held it close to his chest, breathing in the fabric.

He would keep it.

After Kiyoomi had gone through the rest of the closet and Atsumu's drawers, he made his way over to Atsumu's bedside table. The small nightstand consisted of three small drawers.

Kiyoomi opened the first, but the only thing it held were a few ballpoint pens that Atsumu must have used at some point.

The second held a few books that Kiyoomi remembered Atsumu reading when they first moved in together, but he hadn't seen him pick them up since.

The third drawer, however, made Kiyoomi's heart stop. Kiyoomi pulled a large picture book out of the drawer and set it on his lap.

Scrawled across the white cover was a simple phrase in Atsumu's unmistakable handwriting.

Our Memories.

Kiyoomi cautiously opened the book, revealing the first page of pictures.

Pictures of the night they started dating. One of the best nights of Kiyoomi's life. The night he called Atsumu his own for the first time.

Kiyoomi felt his eyes fill with tears, but he managed to hold them back as he moved to the next page.

The day they moved in together. When Atsumu had stopped Kiyoomi in his tracks because he wanted to take picture of Kiyoomi putting one of their very first plates away. Kiyoomi smiled rethinking moments from that momentous day.

He flipped the page again.

The time they had gone to their spot for the first time. Kiyoomi felt butterflies in his stomach as he thought of the way he held Atsumu that night in their car, watching the sunset of Osaka.

Oh, what he would give to relive that moment.

Kiyoomi could tell there weren't many pictures left after those, but he continued to look through them, observing the moments of them together, frozen in time.

Kiyoomi had never looked happier than he did in these photos. And even though he had a light stream of tears running down his face, Kiyoomi was still keeping a small smile on his face as he flipped through the pages of pictures.

When Kiyoomi finally reached the last page of pictures, he stopped. A small piece of paper had been neatly folded and placed loosely in the book.

It had Kiyoomi's name on it.

Kiyoomi hesitantly picked it up, and without unfolding the paper, turned the creased sheet over.

For when I'm gone.

Kiyoomi held a hand over his mouth as he slowly unfolded the piece of paper, revealing the secrets it held inside.