Chapter Text
[komori motoya] today at 12:13 AM
Bro where did u go
.......
Washio and I are heading out
We’re waiting for u outside
I already left
Suna rintarou
It’s dangerous out there on ur own
What are u doing leaving by yourself
Seriously, we would have walked you home
I’m not alone
Don’t worry about it
Have fun
👀 oh?
Shut up
Is Suna an idiot for following Osamu without a second thought? Probably. Does he care right now? No. He’s looking for answers. Answers to why his chest feels just the littlest bit tighter whenever Osamu is around. He wants to know if Osamu’s chest does the same. He wants to know why Osamu gave a fuck about who Suna walked home. He wants to know a lot of things. Maybe there aren’t answers to his questions. But if there are, something tells him that maybe he’ll find those answers if he stops thinking for a damn second and just follows Osamu wherever he wants to go.
They end up at a little diner not far from the party. Suna’s never been here before though he’s passed it enough times. The place is quaint, though it’s a little run down and their menu board offers little more than hour-old coffee and greasy American diner food, Suna can see why Osamu would like it here with it’s no-frills appearance and simplicity. The booth seat’s leather is ripped and patchy. The overhead light handing over their table flickers every few seconds and it smells faintly of burnt coffee.
The menu is sparse and filled mostly with food that, as a collegiate athlete, Suna shouldn’t eat. But there’s nothing to stop Osamu. While Suna orders himself a cup of lukewarm decaf coffee — it’s late after all — Osamu orders the biggest breakfast-served-all-day meal on the menu.
Suna sips at his coffee, watching as Osamu slumps forward, folding his arms on the table in front of him then burying his face into the crook he’s made between them. Good to know he’s still a dramatic asshole when he wants to be.
It should be uncomfortable — that even after their waitress has taken their order and disappeared into the back of the house, they’re still sitting in silence. Sitting in silence while Osamu gets his shit together, or wakes up, or stops throwing a tantrum — Suna isn’t sure what exactly he’s doing. It should be uncomfortable to sit in such palpable silence with someone who isn’t so much as a friend. Especially after their argument or fight or whatever that was back at the party.
But it isn’t awkward. It’s comfortable in a way that Suna’s never been comfortable with anyone else. He doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. For as much as Suna wants to hide from it, Osamu isn’t the stranger he tries to make him out to be. He’s never been just a stranger. And he never will be. Just like he could never be just a friend. Osamu will always be something more. Something he doesn’t quite have a name for, but whatever it is, he knows it’s bittersweet.
As Suna idly stirs a packet of sugar into his cup he wonders if he should say something or if he should wait for Osamu to talk. He’s still kind of miffed about what happened back at the party but not enough to actually care and definitely not enough to bring it up first. Call it laziness, call it a short attention span, call it the result of growing up and maturing, it doesn’t matter.
After what felt like forever but was probably no more than ten minutes in reality, Osamu sighs then turns on Suna, gaze unyielding. Suna nearly flinches from the sudden undivided attention, not used to Osamu looking at him like that anymore.
“Did you mean it?” Osamu asks, betraying no emotion.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That time I dropped ya off at yer place. You said I’m your ex.”
It’s late and Suna’s had a long night so it takes him a moment or two to remember exactly what Osamu is referring to.
“Yeah,” Suna says, the memory playing out slowly in his head. “Well,” he says slowly, unsure what that has to do with anything. A tiny voice in the back of his head tells him that he’s missed something, something important, but he keeps talking even though it feels like he’s walking right into a trap or something equally as dangerous. “ You are my ex. And I’m yours.”
Osamu’s eyes fall closed and he hums. “Right, don’t worry Suna, I know . And though you don’t seem to believe it, I know we’re exes just as well as you do. What I’m asking ya is, is that all I’ll ever be?”
The question takes Suna off guard but before he has a chance to put together a coherent thought Osamu is talking again.
“Is that all I am to you? Forever? I used to be yer friend. I used to be yer teammate.” A pause. “I used to be a lot of things. But is an ex all you’ll ever see me as? Because, if I’m honest, I stopped seeing ya as an ex a long time ago and started thinking of ya like any other person.”
“Osamu—”
“I think,” Osamu says without any preamble, “that it’s time we try being friends again.” He takes a deep breath. “What do you thin—?”
“Think? Suna says so panicked that he ends up cutting Osamu off before he can finish the thought. “I don’t think much. You should try it.”
Osamu snorts. “Now that’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. And don’t try to tell me you’ve changed. Nobody could change that much. Not even in 3 years.”
“Look, I don’t think it’s as big of a deal as ya think it is, but I understand that yer worried.”
There’s no way Osamu could possibly understand the depths of Suna’s worries. How much he’s thought about this again and again. This isn’t the first time he’s considered this. In the past three years, there have been several times when Suna’s fingers itched for his phone, to punch in Osamu’s number — his actual contact information was deleted a long time ago but to Suna’s eternal chagrin, he never managed to delete the familiar string of numbers from his memory.
“Don’t look so grim. I’m not asking you to commit a murder or something.”
“Sorry I’m ... still processing,” Suna says slowly.
“I can see that.”
Suna sits back in his seat and replays the last several moments. Osamu wants to be friends. Like it’s actually that easy. Like that’s a decision they have any right to make.
He has a few options here. He could get up and leave. Who is gonna stop him? Their waitress with the coffee pot? He could leave Osamu and this conversation behind with the greasy fried eggs, too-sweet pancakes, and hour-old coffee. But Suna stays put. That’s what worries him most.
“What are you thinking?”
Suna lets out a breath. “We’re exes,” Suna says slowly. The words feel like molasses in his mouth. Thick, sticky, and uncomfortable. They feel irrevocably wrong.
“I know that.” Osamu sets his glass down. It rattles the table. “But I just don’t get what that has to do with anything.”
“Exes can’t be friends,” Suna says but even he can admit that he doesn’t sound confident in his statement. Not anymore.
“Suna, for fuck’s sake, why can’t exes be friends? You keep saying that but— ” Osamu groans and tugs at his hair. “Fuck — what does that even mean? And who says that? Who decides these things?”
Suna waves a hand, weak and half-hearted. “Nobody. Everybody. It’s just one of those rules.”
Osamu runs a hand through his hair and tugs. That was always what Osamu did when he was frustrated. He takes a deep breath, breathing out slowly through the mouth. By the time he reaches the end, he’s schooled his face back into a neutral position. Where a moment ago Suna could read what Osamu was feeling like an open book, now he can’t make out a single thing.
“What is this then? What are we doing Suna? Am I just wasting my time? Setting myself up for another heartbreak? And don’t lie to me. You’ve never been good at lying to me. If you don't want to be my friend, then why do you text me and answer my calls? Why do you offer to help me without hesitation? Why’d ya agree to ditch a party and hang out alone?”
Suna sits silent and dumbfounded.
Osamu sighs. “Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I was the only one who felt this way. But I thought — “ he takes a shuddering breath that wracks his entire body. “I thought,” he says again and where his voice shook before, there is nothing but unwavering steadiness. Someone else might mistake it for calmness but Suna knows the truth. Osamu simply shuts down when overcome with too much emotion. When overcome by heartbreak — heartbreak that Suna caused.
“What we had was good. I thought so, at least. Especially since we were 2 kids who didn’t know a thing. We did alright.”
They did do alright. They were more than alright. Being with Osamu was easy. It was natural. It occurs to Suna that he can’t actually pinpoint where it all went wrong. What they had wasn't always perfect — they had their share of squabbles like any couple — but he can’t ever recall it being bad. He can’t recall why exactly they broke up.
“What happened to us,” he says without thinking and immediately he regrets it. What kind of fucked up question is that?
Osamu laughs but it’s anything but joyful. He laughs and it’s cold and wet like he can’t believe what Suna just asked. “Hell if I know, Rin.” He shakes his head and looks down at the table, studying the chipped laminate like Suna when he pours over his theory textbook. “Hell if I know. Ya only ever gave me half-assed answers that I could tell ya didn’t mean but I was stupid and scared. You were so convinced. I thought—” He bites down on the back of his hand. “I thought maybe if I didn’t push then that would mean we could end things in a way where I wouldn’t lose ya. That was stupid.”
He laughs again — a sad chuckle that stabs Suna right in the heart. “But I guess that’s my fault,” Osamu continues. “It took me a while to realize — and even longer to accept — that I was too scared to ask or to try to convince ya otherwise. So maybe not knowing is just as much my fault as it is yours.’ Osamu takes another deep breath and brings himself up to his full height. “But that’s my fault. Or our fault. I don’t know. What I do know is that I would have fought harder for ya if I understood that it was the end. Hard stop.”
Osamu lays it all out on the table like it’s easy. Like it’s easy to admit what he’s loved and lost. Like it’s easy to repatch a relationship that’s been torn and weathered by past mistakes. Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Their breakup. It was a mistake.
It all comes rushing back to him — the night they broke up. Three years have passed between then and now. Three years for the story of that night to shift and change like play dough between Suna’s fingers. Molded and shaped by the ache in his heart, time, and distance. Molded into something that wasn’t true. Suna, ever the pessimist, frankly, didn’t believe in long-distance relationships. He didn’t believe in high school sweethearts. And maybe, just maybe, it was easier to blame that on the universe than it was to admit that more than anything he was just scared.
And suddenly it hits Suna just what he was afraid of. Why he feared becoming friends with Osamu even three years after an amicable breakup. For Suna, crossing the line between expecting nothing and wanting everything with Osamu happens effortlessly, without a thought.
Just like how a chest rises and falls with each breath. It’s effortless. It’s automatic. It’s inevitable. Suna fell for Osamu when he wasn’t looking but now that it’s happened, Suna will keep on loving Osamu like it is just another fact of life. Just like his heart beats without the need for a conscious thought, so too does it love Miya Osamu.
If they aren’t friends then there is no problem. All this stuff, all that Suna feels, it means nothing. If they aren’t friends, if they mean nothing to each other, then Suna can ignore and tuck away how much Osamu makes him feel.
Maybe Suna should have seen this coming. Maybe in his heart of hearts, he knew this all along, knew that falling back in love with Osamu was inevitable. It all seems so stupid upon realizing this. What was the point of becoming friends? What is the point when becoming friends is at the cost of Suna’s own broken heart? And even though his heart feels too big for his chest and that no matter how deeply he inhales he can’t seem to get enough air, he knows that he wouldn’t change anything.
Though he pushes and pushes and pushes harder whenever the idea of being anything more than a stranger to Osamu comes up, it was nothing more than a fragile attempt at saving them both from what Suna knew couldn’t be avoided no matter how hard they both might try. There’s a reason why Suna didn’t look back after their breakup. And it wasn’t because what they had was bad or that it went up in flames. It wasn’t because they weren’t meant to be. And, loathe that he is to admit it, it isn’t because the universe or some higher power unknown to man demands that exes not be friends. It’s because Suna was complacent and maybe a touch scared.
“Suna?” Osamu says. “Did I lose ya there?”
“Wha— No, I was just—”
“It’s fine,” Osamu says, holding up a hand. “Ya don’t owe me anything. Not really. Maybe I was a fool for thinking this was a good idea in the first place.”
“No, that’s not—” Suna tries but Osamu cuts him off again.
“I’m sure you have a lot on yer mind,” Osamu begins, holding up a hand when Suna opens his mouth to interrupt. “No, don’t give me any of that. I can see it on your face so no point in wasting your breath on a lie. Besides, you’ve never been very good at lyin’ to me. I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Give ya a moment alone with yer thoughts and all that. Or a moment to sneak out. Take yer pick.”
Osamu's mouth pinches up in a poor approximation of a smile and it makes Suna’s heart squeeze in all the wrong ways. That pained smile, it’s his fault. Suna’s fault.
Maybe exes can be friends but perhaps in Suna’s case, being friends would be a mistake regardless. If exes can be friends — and Suna’s not saying that he and Osamu can, not yet — then what is there to stop him from wanting to be more than friends? And that’s a line of thinking fraught with unknowns and uncertainties and a whole lot of things that could make Suna’s heart break. Because now, being friends doesn’t seem like nearly enough, not when it’s so close to everything he wants and still so far away. After all, if it didn’t work out the first time, what’s going to change that now?
Not to mention, Suna has seen firsthand what carelessness does in a relationship. He’s seen the damage it causes — that he caused. He’s seen how even though the wound has healed and Osamu no longer needs him the scar is still there. What kind of person would Suna be if he thought it was okay to just waltz back to Osamu like he never was the source of the scar in the first place. They’re both okay where they are now. They grew up. They got over each other. Who is Suna to risk that again?
Suna thinks about that first day in the library when Osamu returned his phone charger to him. If he could go back, would he use extra care to make sure it was tucked safely in his backpack with no risk of falling out only to land in the hands of Miya Osamu? No. No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t change anything. Having Osamu back in his life, even with all of Suna’s ridiculous insistence that they aren’t or can’t ever be friends, has been a joy. An absolute joy. Life without Osamu left an ache in his chest that, although dull, still hurt. But that dull ache has faded in the past couple of months. Faded then grew into something much more.
Suna supposes there are two options laid out in front of him. He can try to be friends with Osamu at a great personal cost to himself, but would that make him a masochist? To willingly submit himself to the pain of always wishing for more? Or should he cut this off now before the blade twists even deeper? Before it cuts far enough to scar? Perhaps that way he could save them both a bit of heartache.
Or he can tell Osamu how he really feels. How he’s not in love with him again — not yet — but he wants to try, and at this rate, it’s a reality not far off and one that scares Suna a little more than he wants to admit.
Suna doesn’t get a chance to decide either way before Osamu comes back.
“Osamu,” Suna says before he’s even finished sliding into the booth. His chest is tight with apprehension but his stomach is alight with anticipation, fluttering so much that he nearly feels sick.
And it isn’t until the words are tumbling out of his mouth that Suna knows what he’s going to say, that he knows which path he’s taking. “Osamu, I— We can’t be friends.”
He cringes instantly. That isn’t what he meant at all. And when he catches the way Osamu’s face falls, he rushes to explain himself and fix it.
“Osamu. No, that’s not what I meant.” He doesn’t mean to but he laughs. It’s small but full of unbridled joy. Suna is happy. He’s really happy. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen here, but he knows he’s going to be the one doing it, he’s the one in charge of his future. Not the universe. Or the phone charger. Or Osamu’s truck. Or the couch. This is his reality. He’s in charge. And he makes the rules.
And right now, no matter what Osamu says, Suna needs to say how he feels. Plus, a little voice in the back of his head supplies, he knows Osamu. As he’s learned time and time again in the past couple of months, three years has done little to dull how well he knows Osamu. And he thinks that maybe, just maybe, Osamu might want the same thing as him.
“Suna.” A crease forms between Osamu’s brows and his mouth twists as if saying Suna’s name was painful in and of itself. “Please. I’m trying my best here. But I can’t — I can’t — “ his voice cracks and it sends a pang through Suna’s chest. He hadn’t meant to hurt Osamu.
“No, hold on, this is all just a mess. Osamu, I can’t be your friend. I can’t be your friend because I’m selfish and I want more.”
Osamu’s grimace drops into a stupidly surprised ‘o’. It’s the dumbest expression Suna’s ever seen but still so cute that he wants to kiss the shock right off of Osamu’s face.
“Oh.” Osamu nods and Suna can see the cogs in his head turning, trying to piece it all together. Suna is about to elaborate and cut him out of his misery when he says, “oh. You mean—”
Suna nods enthusiastically. “Yeah. I mean—” Suna is ready to pour his entire heart out in a way that he can only ever imagine pouring it out to Osamu, unfettered, whole. But something nasty grabs his tongue and tells him to wait. To be careful. Reminding him that he‘s taking a risk. He shoves it away. Now isn’t the time for hesitation or fear. Sometimes you just have to take a leap.
“Osamu,” he says, recognizing that perhaps Suna has said his name a few too many times but he doesn’t care. He wants to say it again and again. “If you don’t feel the same, I understand. If you want to just be friends again, I understand and maybe I can learn to do that. But no, I don’t think exes can be friends, not in our case, because I want so much more than that.”
“What are you saying?” Osamu says, dumbfounded.
Suna takes a deep breath. “I don’t know.” It sounds like a cop-out. But it’s not. He wants to be with Osamu. He wants to date Osamu and wants to be in a relationship with him. But that isn’t something that can happen overnight even if Osamu wants the same thing. A relationship is something they have to build toward. “I want everything. I want anything. No—” Suna smiles, wide and genuine. “I want to try.”
Osamu grins and it’s dopey and warm and it sets Suna’s heart on fire. “Suna Rintarou, I’d like nothin’ more.”
It’s just a couple of words, but it feels like something more. It feels like a promise. One Suna is determined to do his best to keep.
[pain in the ass DNI] today at 2:17 AM
Have you seen samu
I can’t find him
He says to tell you
That he’ll see you in the morning
Suna?!?!?!
Atsumu
Wtf does that mean
WAIT
Does this mean you
Finally worked your shit out?
(pls say yes, i can’t deal with either of u anymore)
yes
IM CRYING REAL TEARS OF JOY OVER HERE
i'm SO happy for u <3
Fuck they grow up so fast
Make good choices kids <333333
shut up
(but thank you)