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Summary
Kiyoomi should hate it. He should absolutely loathe the extensive and prolonged contact in a dirty train among dozens of sweaty strangers. He should itch with the need to move away, to get away. And yet, he feels himself burning with the desire to inch closer, press into Atsumu’s warm chest, bury his face in the juncture of his neck, have the arm caging him wrapped around his waist instead.
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Up until two weeks ago Kiyoomi didn’t even allow him high fives and now he sleeps on his shoulder during movie nights, presses their legs together when they sit next to each other at team outings, gives congratulatory pats that definitely linger and it’s always just with him. It’s been driving Atsumu mad.
Series
- Part 2 of Touch-starved