「 untold feelings 」━━━ sakuatsu

─ eleven

"Shit, the distributor is broken again!"

Bokuto whined, shaking the vending machine and craving for a cereal bar, "Tsum-Tsum, d'ya have anything to eat ? I'm starving."

Atsumu sighed, half-closing his eyelids. The day hadn't begun yet and he was already awfully tired from his last sleepless night. But how could you sleep, when all these insomniac fantasies full of thorned ropes like venomous roses digging into your flesh trapped your body and soul within the looming threat of madness? 

Atsumu was fucking scared.

What hung upon him was a sweet curse, a cunning poison, a guilty desire. He was fated to crave for this coldblooded man who haunted his dreams like a wandering soul — turning them into horrific nightmares. God ! Sakusa truly had the entire world in between his divine palms.

"'Tsumu, you feeling okay?"

The blonde lifted his chin like it took him all the efforts in the world, a worried frown twisting his features. His senior of one year most likely knew that something was wrong, very aware of his friend's awful tendency to get himself in trouble. It must've been stupid teenagers' romantic problems, but thinking that the great Atsumu Miya also had doubtful days of darkness was somehow unsettling to Bokuto.

But who could blame him ? The man who sat in front of him was a playboy, a women bedder, an obnoxious seducer whose idle days had always been dedicated to depravation. It was hard to convince himself that this man could ever have worries.

The younger man sloppily handed a chocolate bar to his friend, "I'm alright."

That was an unguilty lie and they both knew it. Atsumu looked up to fleeing clouds in the watercolor painted sky, rays of rising sun cradling his honey eyes with golden metal. Talking about his messy sentimental situation would have unburdened his sore shoulders and back for good, but he just couldn't. He couldn't tell why, but something kept him from admitting his feelings. Perhaps he had finally gotten used to the disparaging facade people always limited his entire persona to be; an asshole who took people's hearts as toys to play with, and threw them whenever he yearned for them no more.

Perhaps it was just pride.

"Listen Tsum-Tsum," said Bokuto, accepting the snack and sitting next to him. "You might be a dick sometimes."

"Thanks, Bokkun."

"But that doesn't mean you can't complain when your problems are a pain in your ass. You know you can trust me, right?"

Atsumu didn't need to be reminded. Bokuto was one of the most reliable persons he knew, and he wouldn't hesitate a single second to confess what was weighing on his heart, if only he knew how to describe it. Perhaps he was merely unable to admit that he wished for some tenderness, too, as any man of age to love. But there had to be other ways to get advice. Atsumu took a deep breath, about to ask something he might regret, because it meant admitting it to himself.

"Have ya ever fallen in love for someone ya knew you'd never have?"

His mouth closed as his words fell like a sacred blade. Birds stopped singing; wind stopped blowing. A spacelike silence followed his question, and the time remained frozen before such desperation.

"Here's the thing," Bokuto chuckled. "I did, surprisingly."

"Really?" Atsumu said, confused. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it was a long time ago now. He was my setter back in high school, and I fell so madly in love for him it hurt like shit," Bokuto said. "But you know, what hurt even more was the fact that he didn't love me back."

Bokuto's tone was as faint and gloomy as a dusk in winter, yet clear and striking like faintest glimmer of stars in a lover's tears. He must have loved this pretty setter so, so much. Atsumu could feel his pain, oddly enough, for someone who did not even know what being heartbroken was like given everyone always worshipped the ground he walked on. It must've indeed hurt, but he still needed to know more.

"Didja confess to him?"

"Of course," Bokuto responded, "You can't just hold back your feelings, 'Tsumu. If you know you'll end up hurt in any case, you'd better get rid of what you're carrying inside," the grey haired man rested his head against the wall and smiled. "Besides, being in love is not an indicator for weakness."

"Yer right," Atsumu conceded, standing up and offering his hand to his friend. "I'll consider this. Thank you, Bokkun."

The bell rang, and before Atsumu waved goodbye at his friend, the latter beamed at him — addressing him that characteristic smile of his, that most of the time meant he had a cataclysmic idea.

"By the way, 'Tsumu, meet at my place tomorrow night," Bokuto chuckled. "Everyone will be there, and you really need to relax."

A bright sparkle enlightened Atsumu's dull eyes as a gleeful smile painted over his handsome face. A party was all that he needed. Bokuto being the host meant dance floor, hard drinking, old high school friends and stripping games - heck, maybe even hot pole dancers. He never had any memories of the nights he spent there, but that must've been awesome.

"I'm in."

Still, and not knowing why, he felt like something bad was about to happen.