unknown - sakuatsu

vodka

"I wanna torch his car. Watch his fancy Italian leather fucking melt," Hinata stares at the TV as though it's a co-conspirator in Kageyama's leaving. "You know he had it imported from Italy. Like a fucking douche. I wanna ruin its paint job and slash all four tires. Who the fuck imports a car from Italy."

It's three in the morning, Hinata is not handling his breakup well. Kiyoomi can sympathize, in a sense, though he's never been through an equivalent heartbreak so true understanding is out of the question.

"I wanna watch it burn to a fucking crisp and- and the-then I want-t him to- him to hold me-e and tell me it's- it's ok-okay b-because-cause I'm an idiot an'I prob-b-bly didn't mean to do it-t anwyay," Kiyoomi tries not to tense as Hinata starts his seventh ugly crying session of the night, snot streaming from his nose, tears from his eyes.

They were watching an American TV show called The Rookie - 'were' being the keyword in that sentence as it's pretty much turned into background noise at this point.

Hinata curls into Atsumu's side again - because they both know the spiker can't deal with all the fluids - and Kiyoomi does his best to help out by swiping the almost empty bottle of Vodka from the coffee table and handing it to a trembling Hinata. His bottle of Vodka. They bought two. Mainly because it's common knowledge that the only people to date Kiyoomi has shared food with are Motoya and Atsumu.

"I know, Sho. He's a fuckin' asshole. But hey, at least he didn't leak yer nudes- Don't lie, we know ya guys have'em." Atsumu tries with the humor, but he wrinkles his nose immediately after, probably sensing the off-chord it struck.

"His exi-i-ting line was 'so-sorry Shouyou, I'm engaged.'"

"Yeah. Yeah that was a bad one, sorry man."

Kiyoomi holds the second bottle of alcohol close, nursing it in hopes that the slight - or not so slight, he doesn't really know at this point - buzz of it thrumming in his veins will somehow make finding the right words to comfort his teammate a little easier. He thinks that such a momentous feat would probably be easier done if he could just...buy a new personality at the corner store. But no, he's stuck with this one. So he might as well make the best of it.

Kiyoomi hates the sting and the taste and honestly just the smell of alcohol, but he takes a gratuitous swig from the bottle anyway.

"I hate-hate him f-for leavin-ng me but- but I still love- Love him," Atsumu casts a sideways glance to Kiyoomi, who regards him with unsteady eyes - the spiker can only thank the universe that Atsumu volunteered to stay sober tonight. Kiyoomi wouldn't be able to manage it.

Not with the way he feels obligated to show some kind of physical affection, outstretching a hand to pat Hinata on the shoulder in what is (hopefully) a comforting gesture.

And especially not when Hinata takes that as license to push away from Atsumu and flop his entire bodyweight across Kiyoomi's shoulders, sobbing with renewed vigor like a character from a Shakespeare play.

Atsumu's eyes widen comically large as Kiyoomi attempts not to reel back in disgust - he's sad, comfort him, he's your friend, your teammate. Oh god, there's so much snot. Snot has bacteria. Snot is made to trap bacteria. He just went through a breakup. He's so fucking...juicy. Oh fuck me.

Breathing in as deep as his lungs will allow, Kiyoomi manages to pat his friend on his mop of disheveled orange hair, though the rest of his body is stiffer than a plank of wood. Not his proudest moment, honestly. But he really is trying, you must understand.

At some point, a little past four, Hinata passes out entirely, his sobs having, apparently, exhausted his seemingly endless supply of energy - the literal entire bottle of Vodka he's consumed may have also had a hand in it. But regardless, he's out, and Kiyoomi is...