#s**

i hope u dont mind me writing a quick thing!!!!

“You put up quite a fight,” Sakusa muses from across the kitchen, subtle humor laced into his voice.

“Ah, you mean this bad boy?” You ask, pointing a finger at your bloody nose.

“And your hands,” he adds, eyes trained on the refrigerator.

Quite frankly, he’s stalling right now, because he cannot for the love of god, bring himself to look at you - let alone, touch you. His movements are a lot slower as he opens the freezer and takes an ice pack.

He needs more time to comprehend what’s happening right now. You’re seated on the kitchen counter. Alone. With him. And he’s supposed to be tending your injuries.

Suddenly, he wishes he didn’t volunteer to take care of you because this nauseous feeling in his stomach isn’t... good.

What if you see how red his cheeks are under his face mask? What if you get grossed out by how sweaty his palms are? What if he throws up on you?

Sakusa can’t remember the last time he’s felt this nervous around someone. Maybe around the-one-who-shall-not-be-named, but it was usually more out of fear of making a mistake.

This nervousness, however, is the same type he feels when he watches one of his guilty pleasure rom-com movies. It’s light, exhilarating, and honestly... a little dangerous.

You are dangerous.

“You’re taking so long. I could die of blood loss right now.”

He rolls his eyes. “Hush, it’s not like you got stabbed. You have a nosebleed.”

“You’re right, maybe I should bring a knife next time.”

“It wouldn’t wouldn’t be fair. Meiko doesn’t even know how to hold a knife.”

A cackle bursts out of you and for whatever reason, the sound causes a drop of sweat to fall down his forehead. Has it always been this warm in the house?

Reluctantly, he makes his way to you, carrying an ice pack in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

Using your well hand, you wrap your fingers around the cup to take it from him. He thanks the sun, the moon, and the stars that your skin doesn’t brush his when you do so, because if you did, he would’ve dropped the glass right then and there.

This is the closest he’s ever been to you, and it takes everything in him to not stare at your face too long, or to not memorize every freckle, mole, blemish on your skin and wonder what it would be like to maybe kis—

Wait, no. He can’t. Not this soon, at least.

This is karma for treating you as poorly as he did.

“You okay?” You ask.

Sakusa bites his lip from under his face mask. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” you grin at him to indicate so. “I have so much adrenaline in me that I honestly don’t feel anything.”

After a moment of contemplation, he grabs your hand and studies the dark color forming at your knuckles.

For once, the house feels quiet. Sakusa usually grumbles about how awfully loud the rest of his roommates are, but now, he hates it. He hates how he can hear your breathing up close, and hates how it mixes with the loud drumming of his own heart.

“You never answered my question, by the way,” you suddenly say. “You okay? You seem a bit on edge.”

Sakusa takes a deep breath.

“I’m fine,” he replies simply. “I’m just.... worried.”

It’s partially a lie. He cares about you and worries about you getting hurt, but he also trusts your judgement. From the start, he knew Meiko had no chance against you.

However, saying he’s worried is easier than saying ‘I’m not okay because you’re so close to me right now and you make me nervous’.

At this, you squeeze his hand, somehow not phased by how awfully tense he seems to be. “I’m okay, Omi,” you assure him, a thumb stroking the back of his palm. “I really appreciate you caring, though.”

Finally, he brings himself to make eye contact with you. The look in your eyes is so tender and warm, that he’s not sure if you’re even real.

Atsumu’s right - you’re definitely an angel.