Chapter Text
As it turns out, ‘making it up to him’ constituted showing up -uninvited, mind you- to the Minamoto household, banging on the front door at eight in the morning, and screaming at the top of their lungs for Kou to come out.
It’s Sunday -not even a full twenty-four hours have passed since the Mitsubas’ family dinner.
By the time he’s down the stairs -hair spiky and messy, t-shirt and sweatpants thrown on in a rush- he finds a blanket-covered Teru-nii already at the door -by some miracle, already up and about, leaving Kou to wonder if perhaps his older brother hadn’t been able to sleep in the first place.
”You hadn’t told me those two were coming, Kou.”
How could he have, if he hadn’t even known?
He scratches the back of his neck and has the decency to look away abashedly, only met with an irritated sigh from his brother and a disgruntled frown. Teru-nii stalls some more, as if wanting to voice some words of choice, but instead resumes moping around the house. Kou suspects that Akane-san might have dumped him again, but he can never be too sure what goes on between those two.
As soon as Teru-nii is away from the open door, though, the twins come into view.
And, just like always, his heart stutters and tumbles in his chest, trips over its own strings and lands face-flat on his ribcage, resulting in a gasp for air that has Kou gaping like a pufferfish.
He sees Sousuke first -one foot stepping through the door despite not being invited in just yet- wearing a brown cardigan with dull pink stripes and simple dark jeans, headphones resting around his neck and blowing a pink bubble of gum big enough to pop.
Cute.
The bubble pops as soon as they make eye contact -and Kou tries not to bare a smidge of a grin as his boyfriend wipes at his mouth in vain efforts to get the sticky confection off.
Next to him, Daisuke is typing away on his phone, donning a soft frown with a tight long-sleeve and baggy jeans.
“What are you guys doing here.. so damn early?”
The twins push past him -shoulders bumping and leaving behind the cloyingness of their layered perfumes- and Kou is stuck between following along hopelessly smitten or trailing behind mildly irritated. Both options ended up in him tending to the twins’ whims, so did he really have much of a choice at all?
And, of course, they don’t answer his question.
”Get dressed, pervert earring boy,”
”Yea, you couldn’t have put something better on for your boyfriends?”
”H-hey! This was the first thing I could scrape together before coming downstairs-“
Daisuke and Sousuke share a look, intense and surreptitious, and Kou can only halt in his words and carefully reconsider what he had just said.
Had he mentioned anything weird or out of pocket? He rearranges and reorders his own words in his mind, trying to find anything amiss or any other oddity, but comes up blank.
Then Daisuke goes, “Ewww -does this mean the rude, badly-dressed pervert is also a sleeping nudist?”
What..?
”Somehow I’m not surprised.”
What!?
“What do you think the better option is, Sou-nii? Being horribly, atrociously dressed, or not wearing any clothes at all?“
”I think we both know the answer to that.“
Kou is at a total loss for what to say.
Teru-nii isn’t, though.
He emerges from the kitchen -what he was doing hidden over there is a complete mystery to Kou- and begins unsheathing his spirit blade.
”Kou, you better tell your friends that they have three seconds to hide before I skewer and fry them.”
To his credit, Teru-nii definitely didn’t run at full speed. In fact, it was more like a light jog, the kind he takes when he needs to cool his head, or when Tiara has gotten hurt in the playground. It wasn’t that fast either; Kou has seen him enough times from the kitchen’s window -usually on his way to exorcist missions- to know how quick his brother can really be.
The brisk pace he held now was nothing in comparison.
Still, despite all that, Teru-nii manages to catch up to the twins’ scrambling with relative ease.
There’s kicking and screaming, then silence, and suddenly Kou has two sullen boyfriends cowering behind him, grabbing onto his tee and baggy pants -with Teru-nii glaring scornfully a few feet away.
It takes nothing less than the promise of home-baked carrot cake -with extra butter cream and bunny-shaped puffs of icing- to manage to convince his older brother to retreat back into his room -and up he goes, dragging his feet and making faces whenever the twins so much as looked at him. The whole thing has Kou pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning out in exasperation -and really, he’s had it! He doesn’t know how many more cartoonish situations he can handle before he explodes, he’s treated worse than the typical klutz protagonists in the shoujo manga his senpai once had him read; Honestly, it feels like his whole life is being puppeteered by a girl’s depraved fujoshi daydreams, cause what else could be to blame for all the embarrassment he’s been made to weather these past few days? Dirty jokes, awkward family situations, unbearable conversations -really, he should’ve expected all of this and more when getting into a relationship with the Mitsubas.
And he’s just about ready to tell that straight to the twins, to put a stop to their complete dominion over him and finally shake the leash clung snug around his neck loose -but then he turns around to do just so, and immediately loses his resolve in that very moment.
If it hadn’t been blatantly obvious before, it was painfully and utterly clear now: Kou was weak.
He turns, and the twins were already wringing their sweater-sleeves together, pleading pink eyes staring up at him, and making whining-puppy noises. Sousuke is worrying his lower lip between his teeth, face all pinched up into something pathetically sympathetic, and Daisuke is only pouting half-heartedly, as if he’s still deciding whether or not his conscience feels the slightest bit guilty. The combined attack has him weak in all the wrong places, and whatever refutation he’d been thinking of quickly withers to dust in his mouth.
Needless to say, their dual assault worked.
Defeated, he swallows his pride and sighs. “Just.. Do whatever you want, I’m gonna go shower.”
And before the twins’ brows can raise any higher or grins stretch any wider, he quickly adjusts.
“Don’t get any ideas!”
After rummaging through the kitchen pantry and cabinets, shoving through the fridge for any store-bought flan or mochi, Sousuke had just about given up.
About, because he then proceeded to use the scrappy rest of his willpower to fall flat on his ass on the Minamoto's couch. Next to Daisuke. His brother doesn't even look up from his phone.
It had been about ten minutes since Minamoto-kun left upstairs, and Sousuke couldn't take the separation for much longer..
God, he hates how clingy that makes him sound. Even if it's somewhat, slightly, in the most minimal regard, true, it still hits him like a bullet train to the face when he thinks of how cloying he's been lately. He never realized just how attached he was to Minamoto-kun, not until entering a relationship and actually acknowledging that their interactions were no longer solely platonic. He felt no different from those middle school relationships who couldn't physically spend one second away from each other -seriously, he feels like he's going through withdrawals already, being so close yet so far to his boyfriend.
..He needs to do something to get away from these thoughts.
No amount of squirming or wriggling on the couch helps, though, and he only stops when Daisuke throws him another dirty look.
So he spirals back into thinking of the blond again -like always, one way or another, it all comes down to him. It was funner when Minamoto-kun was the one chasing him, easier when Sousuke could pretend he wasn't as equally desperate for the attention. Now.. it's harder to act nonchalant and unaffected, to be constantly in a never-ending competition with his own twin for his boyfriend's affections.
Not that there's any shortage of them, anyway.
It simultaneously endears and pisses him off unimaginably -how could one possess that much goodwill in their heart? Despite how hard he's pushed him, metaphorically and physically, how unbearable and unsightly he acts, Minamoto-kun has never once entreated him to anything worse than a playful kick to the shins, or a swat on the back of his head. He knows he's stronger than that, though -Sousuke has seen how he handles his twin brother, has seen the blossoming bruises on pearly white skin from days of rough-housing taken too far. It concerns him sometimes, but Daisuke seems to enjoy it so he's decided to stop commenting on it.
Does that mean Minamoto-kun is holding out on him?
That doesn't sit well with him at all.
Why can't he be selfish with Sousuke, too? Why doesn't he get all of Minamoto-kun, like Daisuke does? Must he always be second to his own brother?
HIs stomach is beginning to turn, and so he directs his gaze to his twin once more.
Phone in hand, either doomscrolling or texting, yet expression displaying a similar state of boredom to Sousuke's own.
Tentatively, he breaks the silence.
”You think we messed up?”
You think we messed up by embarrassing him in front of his brother like that?
It's what he means, but he doesn't bring himself to voice the words -simply lets the rest of his sentence linger without purpose in the air trapped inside his mouth.
A beat, then a reply. He watches as confusion darts across Daisuke's face for a second, until the events from earlier trickle into the forefront of his brain and recognition flickers to a bumbling life.
”Nah."
Then he's back to using his phone, eyes glued to the screen and fingers dancing over the keyboard.
Sousuke feels his right eye twitch.
He's contemplated on telling their mother about Daisuke's spam account that had somehow blown up overnight, transforming into a mini celebrity in the circle of a niche fandom Sousuke’s generally disinterested in. He hasn't, though, because then his brother would threaten to throw away his stowed away stash of Minamoto-kun centered candids.
.. It's in his best interest to remain on Daisuke's good side, he knows.
”You’re probably right,” is what he settles on.
”Is that so shocking? We’re half a mind and all." Daisuke says that so matter-of-factly, so much so that Sousuke is inclined on believing him. They're twins, after all, so he guesses they have a supernatural connection or something -and wouldn't that basically make them two halves of the same person?
”You think that’s why we fight so much? Cause we’re so much alike?”
Daisuke pauses, and finally looks up from his phone.
”Maybe.”
Sousuke just sighs, then brings his feet up to the couch and tucks his knees beneath his chin. He sways idly, side to side, then plops to lean on Daisuke. His brother mumbles a complaint, but doesn't move, only tilts his phone away so that Sousuke can't read his screen.
And just to be annoying, he goes, ”Who’re you texting, anyways?”
Immediately, Daisuke snaps.
”None of your business!”
”Is it Tsukasa-kun again?”
”Why do you and mom always assume that it is?”
”It’s him, isn’t it?”
Daisuke doesn’t respond -he doesn't need to, his face has defaulted back into poker-mode, which immediately tells him all he needs to know. It's not the ace move that his twin thinks it is: always settling into a blank expression to avoid detection ends up achieving the same result as having your thoughts written in bright red ink on your forehead.
"Why do you two talk so much? You know it's bound to give off the wrong idea, right?"
Daisuke just shrugs.
"It's not like that, though! He's just.. giving me advice and stuff, that's all,"
"Advice on being a prick?"
"Okay Sousuke."
And the conversation gets shut down just like that. It's always like that between them; When Daisuke runs out of patience with Sousuke, his go-to response is a one-word answer.
Defeatedly, he starts popping his bubblegum obnoxiously in a way he knows Daisuke hates -just to get back at him.
Whatever.
Sousuke submerges himself back into his own thoughts again.
Naturally, they gravitate back to Minamoto-kun.
To his stupid face, stupid eyes, stupid blinding smile, stupid way he laughs extra hard at Sousuke's lame jokes...
“Minamoto-kun looks pretty stupid when he’s flustered.”
Shit, he had not meant to say that out loud.
Even worse, Daisuke completely throws his phone aside in favor for the conversation.
”You’re barely noticing?”
”What- no, it’s something I’ve always thought about!”
Now he's digging himself in deeper.
”Uhuh.”
Daisuke stares at him, as if expecting him to continue blubbering like a lovestruck dork -which he absolutely was. His brother has an infuriating way of making people air their own business out all too willingly -must be all the alleged training and advice he's been receiving from Tsukasa.
He distracts himself by continuing to chew on his piece of gum, wincing as it slowly begins disintegrating in his mouth and becoming sandy. Ew.
”I’m calling dibs on first kiss, by the way.”
Sousuke can almost hear the bitchy smile in Daisuke's voice, and he swears he gains a new wrinkle.
He turns around to face his brother, his own face, in total betrayal.
”Fine, then I’m calling dibs on first makeout -how’s that for-“
He immediately gets whacked in the face with one of the sofa's decorative cushions.
After around fifteen minutes, Sousuke gave up.
Instead of laying delicately on the couch like a prince awaiting his lover, he'd been kicked off onto the rug beneath, with Daisuke firmly resting his feet on his back.
It was.. embarrassing, but he'd tired himself out and couldn't find the energy to complain.
Still, at some point, he'd grown restless from lounging with the dustbunnies on the floor.
And, since the living room rug wasn’t the most comfortable place to laze around in the mansion, Daisuke and him had decided to saunter on over to their indisputable favorite place in the world.
Minamoto-kun’s bedroom.
Of course, it's a race to see who gets there first.
Pushing, shoving, elbows in each other's faces as they speed up the stairs, Sousuke contemplates tripping purposefully and dragging Daisuke down by the ankles when his twin is about to surpass him -he doesn't, though, since he manages to take the lead once more.
He can hear Daisuke huffing and puffing behind him, heavy on his feet, and Sousuke can only squeal in fiendish delight. He's scrambling, gripping at the smooth walls and hoping to maximize the distance between them, but then Daisuke bites on his outstretched arm and Sousuke has to stifle a pained groan.
Somehow, they get to Minamoto-kun's door at the exact same time.
So much for all his effort.
But it's well worth the uphill climb, when Daisuke slides open the door before them and a wave of the blond's sharp cologne comes seeping out.
As always, Minamoto-kun's room is a wreck.
Clothes strewn across the desk, balled-up scratch paper overflowing from his trash bin, and backpack on the ground with half it's contents spilling out.
But it's homely -it smells of wood and caramel, hints of spiky citrus, and Sousuke's making a beeline for the bed before his mind can even catch up.
Now, not that Sousuke would ever confess to it, at least not to Minamoto-kun himself, but he really believes he could spend forever with the blond, if he lets him. Eternity together rests on that one-syllabled, flimsy word: if. Would Minamoto-kun like him enough to keep him around for the rest of their lives? Sousuke is certainly not as entertaining as his twin brother; He can't keep the conversation going half as smoothly, he's permanently socially stunted, every other word that slips out of his mouth is lewd or porn-related, and he's most definitely certain that the blond only pretends that his jokes are funny.
Sousuke isn't all that he claims to be, he's not even a fraction of it -no amount of insisting, of acting or faking, could ever make him worthy of Minamoto-kun’s love.
But he so desperately wants it, though.
He craves and aches, yearns and longs, and that's the only reason why he agreed to be set up for a lifelong contest with his biological lookalike.
All he had to do was keep Minamoto-kun on his toes -have him begging for a kiss at the door, never giving away too much but not quite too little. If he managed to achieve this balance, maybe, just maybe, Minamoto-kun wouldn't leave him. (If he were to give his all to the blond, to tear open his own heart and dissect it for his boyfriend to bear witness to, would Minamoto-kun still love him the same? Or would Sousuke be thrown away like a discarded old rag, left to meander for scraplets of meager affection like he once used to?)
He wishes he could stop feeling so much, wishes it didn't feel like his feelings would eat him alive at a second's notice (feelings, feelings, and more feelings, it’s like even his thoughts have become subject to his pathetic, obsessive spewings -ew, ew, and EW.) Sousuke hated thinking such corny and cheesy things, but ignoring them didn’t make them any less true. He’d known it as soon as he met Minamoto-kun: he’d fallen in love in a heartbeat.
And for the whole of a month, Sousuke had begun to believe in all those childhood fairytales his mother had read to him, he’d started to believe in the queasy notion of true love and love at first sight, of charming princes and spell-breaking kisses.
Minamoto Kou was something out of a daydream, a hallucination, an illusion he might’ve conjured up in a moment of fleeting weakness and desperate loneliness -something that set his brittle heart running like a fawn.
With rough, untameable hair (Sousuke had wondered if he’d ever get his chance at combing his hands through it) and ocean-blue eyes (like a maelstrom, entrancing and pulling Sousuke into him), the guy looked like something out of a romcom. Every too-sharp, fanged and pearly-white smile, each time he called out to Sousuke as if he actually mattered, served to hasten his heart and drench his vision in rose plated with gold. It was like having cherry blossoms in spring, or the most delicious parfait set out in front of him; He was starstruck, incorrigibly smitten, and a complete and utter fool. For the first time, Mitsuba Sousuke had fallen in love.
It took a day and a month for that illusion to be dispelled.
After switching classes, the blond never once approached him.
(It took crying inconsolably in the arms of his mother, sobbing in the depths of night and whimpering into Daisuke’s arms, for Sousuke to realize it had all been in his head. They'd never even spoken once out of class, never trespassing the thick line between friends and acquaintances -nothing more, nothing less. Minamoto Kou hadn’t done anything to warrant Sousuke’s infatuation, and so that was that.
Imagine his surprise, then, when Daisuke began bringing the same boy over to their apartment. How was he supposed to react when the blond he’d been crushing on had so swiftly exchanged him for his identical twin? Even worse, Minamoto Kou ended up confessing that he hadn’t realized the two were twins after all. How much of a douche could the guy be?
And how much of an idiot was Sousuke for still liking him?)
”You are so desperate, Sousu-nii.”
Has Sousuke mentioned how much of an ass his brother is, yet?
“Make space for me, come on!”
Oh, that's right.
Begrudgingly, he gives up a small portion of the bed, only for Daisuke's fat-assed greedy self to roll on over and claim the wee amount of extra space that Sousuke had harbored. As if Minamoto's bedroom weren't small enough, now he has to share it with his walrus of a twin.
It has him fuming, and he's ready to shut his eyes and ignore Daisuke for the rest of the day -until he speaks.
“I was scared -yesterday.”
Oh. They hadn't quite yet talked about that -it was easier to pretend it hadn't happened, to go to bed instead of discuss the very real reality that they had almost lost their boyfriend due to their own capricious behavior. Neither wanted to take accountability for the events, and so under the rug it went.
But.. They can't avoid things forever, can they?
Sousuke hums, before agreeing.
"I know, I was too.”
Daisuke doesn't say anything back, and Sousuke is half-afraid he's fallen asleep, and so he breathes out.
”You think mom was being serious about her threat?”
Two seconds pass, and then his twin lets out a long and loud yawn, before drowsily replying.
”Oh, definitely, I’ve never seen her that angry. She was totally about to rock Minamoto-kun’s shit-“
”You really think she could have?”
”Maybe not could’ve but definitely would’ve, I’m saying that Minamoto-kun would have just let her -he’s like that, y’know?" Daisuke says it like it's a fact, and Sousuke knows it is. It's part of the reason why he likes Minamoto-kun so much: he's easy to manipulate, like pudding in his hold, and it's thrilling to see all the ways in which Sousuke can make him squirm. Daisuke continues, "He just lets himself get dragged around when he feels guilty, and that’s the saddest I’ve ever seen him,”
“Yeah.. Not to be weird, but like-" Sousuke feels blood rush to his cheeks, and for once, he's glad Minamoto-kun isn't here. "-he always looks like a kicked puppy when he’s sad -it’s kinda cute, no?”
He expects his twin brother to laugh, but Daisuke only mumbles something.
”Everything about him is.. stupidly attractive.”
Oh.
“Ditto."
Sousuke thinks this breaks a new record in how long they've gone without arguing. It makes his heart swell just the teensiest bit, and so he squeezes his eyes shut to ignore how much he wishes they could be like this all the time. It's fun to fight, to quarrel and poke at each other's weak spots, but he'll always prefer having a built-in best friend first.
Nothing he can do about it, though, and so he breathes in the residual scent of Minamoto-kun on the pillow and attempts to fall asleep.
”Hey, Sou-nii?”
Again?
Still, he answers. ”Hm?”
”Thank you.”
”.. For?”
“If it weren’t for you, I never-“ Another yawn, “-would’ve confessed to Minamoto-kun.”
Before Sousuke can ask him what he means exactly, Daisuke is already fast asleep.
He knows this, because his twin snores like a motor.
.. It’s a comforting sound to listen to as it lulls him into a gentle slumber, enveloped in the husky smell of Minamoto-kun’s cologne and a melancholic heart kept at bay.
Kou steps out of the shower -dripping and wet, a blurry golden figure reflected by the foggy mirror above the sink.
He shakes his hair like a dog, pats himself dry from his forehead to his ankles, then comes to a startling realization.
He hadn’t brought a new set of clothes.
Whatever, though, right?
He shrugs the concern off alongside the cascading droplets running down his shoulders, wraps the towel around his waist, and heads off to his room.
In Kou’s defense, he’d fully expected the twins to be downstairs, stuffing their mouths full with whatever scraps of junk food or pastries they might’ve found at the back of the fridge -just like they always do whenever they come over.
That, or they might have been taking advantage of the Minamotos’ premium plans in their streaming platforms, using Kou’s profile and adding a bunch of romance shows and horror flicks to his watchlist -don’t question their tastes, Kou still hasn’t gotten over how they convinced him to dress up as Billy Loomis’ Ghostface last Halloween. He is ninety-nine percent sure that the request was fueled by a celebrity-crush on the actor, but he’ll digress.
Hell, he even expected them to be snooping through his drawers and going through his notebooks -a nosy habit the twins have developed over the course of their friendship, looking through his belongings and inspecting every single thing they manage to get their hands across. From in-class scribbles to rambles of wandering thoughts, anything legible and illegible was pored and gushed over by the pair -he’s aware the act might be considered creepy by some, but Kou has long grown accustomed to it.
But what he wasn’t expecting was finding both Sousuke and Daisuke cuddled up on his bed, covers pulled snug around them and drooling on his pillows.
Sousuke’s clinging to the side of the bed facing the wall, soft pink hair coming undone with each unrestful turn or shift made in slumber. It’s both an endearing and funny sight: his cheek mushed against the pillow, a puddle of drool seeping into the fabric that Kou knows he’ll forget about by the end of the day, and peacefulness delicately engulfing his dormant features.
Besides him, Daisuke is curled up into himself, snoring lightly and delicately -and, briefly, Kou considers spending the rest of his life contentedly watching the twins rest, analyzing each minor furrow of their brows, every minimal twitch produced in fitful sleep.
(How much more corny could he get? If Amane knew he was thinking about this, he’d never be able to live it down.)
And, despite everything, Kou’s heart is once again thrumming behind his chest -in spite of the blond’s complaints and protests, of the hassle that comes hand-in-hand with dealing with the twins, he knows he’d never rather things be another way. It’s a scary, trepid thought, it consumes him with fear and anxiety, and he thinks it’d be easier to take down a high-level supernatural than ever truly come to terms with how whipped the twins have got him.
And so he buries that thought down, swallows it alongside the lump in his throat to where it came from -goes to rest once again at the core of his heart, with all other things sentimental and knead-soft.
He’s just about to grab his clothing -a pair of slacks and a plaid flannel, a white tee and socks- that he’d set out on his desk beforehand, when the most unconventional scenario that could’ve occurred occurs.
Again, Kou is forced to wonder if perhaps the whole world is taking turns kicking his ass and laughing at his long-orchestrated demise.
”Mi-Minamoto-kun?”
”You pervert!-“
He’s hit right on the face with his own pillow -smacked doubly by the aroma of flowery perfumes and strawberry-scented whatevers- and insulted to hell and back out of his room.
”You were probably trying to sneak in a few touches, weren’t you?”
“Pervert sleaze! What, is the brain you’ve got only good for-“
For his own sake, Kou tunes out the rest of the twins’ perverse choices of dialogue. It’s not that he’s irked by their foul language -he’s come to embrace the familiar barrage of insults directed at him every so often he steps the most minuscule bit out of line, it’s such a key Mitsuba trait that he can't help but find it irritatingly cute. No, it’s just that the insults hit even worse now that they're his boyfriends -it makes things different, somehow, and it has his stomach turning.
He has the feeling things will only get worse from here.