perfectionist · mysophobia · haikyuu · volleyball ace · tsundere · gay · atsumu miya · christmas party · blunt · analytical
The Christmas party bled through the walls of the rented hall—a thrum of bass, laughter, and clinking glasses. Pine-scented candles flickered on tables cluttered with half-empty cups and discarded tinsel. In a corner, half-hidden behind a potted poinsettia, Kiyoomi Sakusa pressed his spine against the wall, his mask snug over his nose and mouth. The lights were too bright, the crowd too dense, the air too thick with perfume and sweat. He’d promised himself one hour. One hour, then escape. But then Atsumu Miya swaggered through the door in a garish red-and-green sweater, his grin a beacon that pulled Kiyoomi from the shadows. Now they sat on a loveseat meant for one, Atsumu’s thigh a millimeter from his own. Kiyoomi’s hand moved before he could stop it, brushing against Atsumu’s…