「 untold feelings 」━━━ sakuatsu

─ sixteen

December wept silver upon the obscure skies.

It'd been a week since Atsumu had left his ex-partner's god forbidden bedroom, leaving their relationship in the lap of the gods.

When Sakusa took his first step into the courtyard, the whole campus, lying beneath its white snow coat, was quiet and empty. He'd barely slept two hours, trapped in sleek black leather and brittle stitches, striving to forget his own deadly fantasy.

A young man rested against the vending machine, seeking some warmth through a navy blue scarf and burning coffee.

"Hello, Bokuto-san." Sakusa greeted. "I'd like to use the distributor."

Bokuto didn't bat an eye, nor even spared a glance at Sakusa, processing the duality, especially when last time they talked was around a shot of melting-stomach whiskey. The latter didn't care to ask as Bokuto stepped aside, lurking through the night for the burn of some bittersweet beverage.

"Atsumu told me," Bokuto blurted all of a sudden.

The other man kept his gaze focused on white-covered ground, guilty enough to melt in with unforgiving cold. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"When he called me at three in the morning howling, I felt obligated to ask whether anything went wrong after you guys left my place."

Sakusa bit his inner lip, but didn't look away from the vending machine. Pretending to choose his drink carefully was easier than facing the other man.

"I see."

"You see?" Bokuto asked, composure burning out suddenly, voice echoing throughout the empty courtyard. "You frickin' broke him, don't you feel like shit, not even a little?"

The older man grabbed a fistful of Sakusa's shirt and snarled at his face, brows furrowed, gaze scalding.

"He was trembling like a fucking leaf when he stripped his shirt and showed his bruises to me," Bokuto growled, blazing eyes piercing through Sakusa's soul. "He was too ashamed to say a single word about what you'd just fuckin' done to him, do you realize?"

Sakusa furrowed his perfectly drawn brows, glaring at the shorter man, unimpressed. "Let go of me."

"You're an asshole, Sakusa." Bokuto's threatening tone faded as the grip of his hand loosened, words not less purposefully sharp.

"At least Atsumu realized it before he grew too attached to me," the ravenette shrugged, replacing his tie properly, "So it's not that bad."

Bokuto's eyes flashed, bright and wrathful, and not a bare second passed before one of his fists flung right into Sakusa's face as his other free one slammed him onto the wall. The young man's ears rang with pain, empty eyes hidden beneath the curls of his raven hair. He didn't flinch nor fought back, and took the hit, paralyzed from the shock. His jaw was probably — certainly broken. He deserved it.

"How dare you?" Bokuto spat at him, noticing a trickle of blood drawing from his lower lip, barely realizing the violence of his previous hit. "Can't you just see that man would take a fucking bullet in the chest just for your sadistic ass, you bastard?"

Bokuto's grip went tighter on the younger man's chest, and suddenly seemed strong enough to break his ribs against the hard concrete. His herculean strength restricted the air from Sakusa's lungs to the point where he could've choked, but in any case, he did not try to breathe.

The young man raised his sore chin, planting his black eyes into Bokuto's golden ones, light against dark, day against night. The latter couldn't help but shiver, noticing that characteristic void of guilt, silence and emptiness through his aimless gaze. He decided to get off of him before he'd do something regrettable — or perhaps it was, deep down, the wordless fear that jailed his strength through the dark crevices of his abyssal eyes.

Sakusa wiped the smear of blood from his mouth with a disgusted look, but quickly regained his composure. "Where is Atsumu?"

"Go fuck yourself, Sakusa," responded Bokuto, tugging at his the edges of his scarf to protect his neck from the cold. "You won't raise your filthy hand on him anymore."

"I need to talk to him."

That wasn't completely a lie, although he mainly wanted to see Atsumu. He wanted to tell him how sorry he was, he wanted to close his eyes and feel the caress of his soft breath against the skin of his neck, he wanted to live in the deceitful romance of his dreams forever.

"Tsumu's moving back to Hyōgo," Bokuto said. "I thought you two could've been somethin', I really did. God, how dumb I've been."

Every sour word his low voice uttered, coated with disgust and disappointment, felt searing to Sakusa's ears. Truth hurt, or perhaps it was the fact that the two young men's very last time seeing each other was nothing more than a bitter memory to the both of them.

"Why so sad?" Bokuto asked, studying the younger man's face with contempt curving the corner of his pale lips. "You hate him, after all."

Sakusa's heart stung. He'd truly always hated Atsumu, and he still did. He hated the way he talked to people, he hated the way he didn't give a shit about what happened to others, he hated that egocentric smirk at the hem of his lips. Seeing him beg, suffer and cry was the main reason why he accepted to sleep with him in the first place, although he knew, since the very first time he'd brought his divine lips to his, that betting his heart to that game wasn't without any risk.

Playing with feelings had consequences.

Someone had to pay, and the price would be steep.

"You're right," said the younger man, watching his hot breath drawing haze in the air, slightly clenching his injured jaw. "But there's one last thing I need to tell him."

"For God's sake, just shut your fuckin'—"

"Let me see him, Bokuto."

The older man gritted his teeth and let out a long, loud, annoyed sigh. It was stupid, foolish, idiotic, but for a mere second, he thought that he could perhaps give him a last chance.

No way.

There was no way that man could be any good for Atsumu, and Bokuto had sworn he wouldn't let that monster hurt him one more time. And yet, from the tragic feelings that showed through the desperate tone of his voice, the young man deeply cared for his ex-partner.

And he was undeniably in love.

"Listen, I can't trust you," said Bokuto on a very detached tone. "But if you really want to talk to him, I can't stop you either."

Sakusa's stare went from blank to scalding, furtively detoning in between the flakes of snow. His wounded chin gave a weak nod, but his body didn't seem to respond to his brain anymore. He had already mentally accepted that the man he'd caught feelings for was leaving, but that wasn't the hardest part.

Sakusa had to confess his love, or it'll be too late.