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The thing about growing up with a twin was that you were constantly compared to one another. Academics, sports, height, habits, manners and everything under the sun. Osamu never liked that but he needed that. He needed it so he could look at Atsumu and decide on things he would or would not do.
He would never be rude to people who cheered for him. He would never steal food from others. He would always return thing he borrowed. He would care about being a good person.
And when he was sixteen, he promised himself that he would never hurt their parents.
*
<< Unknown Number >>
last night was great. let’s do it again sometime ;)
“Dude, are ya even listening to me?” Atsumu’s voice comes from the phone, piercingly shrill.
“I never do,” Osamu replies, deleting the message he’s left on his phone since yesterday. He’s not sure how the guy even got his number but it doesn’t matter. Osamu doesn’t do ‘again’.
“Yeah well, Ma wants ya to sleep here for the weekend and she ain’t taking ‘no’ for an answer so bring your shit.”
Osamu stores the bag of rice back into the supply closet and puts extra teriyaki sauce bottles into the fridge. The sales aren’t their best today, seeing as it’s Friday and people prefer to spend their evenings at bars instead. It’s a thing they don’t teach you at culinary school and in the initial days of opening Onigiri Miya, it gave him far more anxiety than he’s ever felt. Three years in though, he’s learnt a few tricks of the trade.
“Where the fuck am I supposed to sleep?” he asks Atsumu, whose voice is now all the way over there on the counter. “You’re bringing yer boyfriend, aren’t ya?”
“You can sleep on the floor for all I care.”
A bwoop of incoming notification drowns out the last of Atsumu’s words and Osamu finds himself closing the fridge door quickly to check it.
<< Suna Rin >>
Hey, Osamu. Got back to Kobe yesterday. Wanna meet up?
Atsumu is droning on about something in the background but Osamu has twenty-three years of practice ignoring him and he’s not about to stop now as he types out a reply.
<< Osamu >>
Can’t tonight. There’s a family dinner cos tsumu brought sakusa home.
<< Suna Rin >>
Oh shit it’s that serious?
Motoya does NOT know about this
Motoya? Since when has Suna and Komori been on first name basis?
“Oi, Samu!” Atsumu yells. “Stop ignoring me. What are ya even doing?”
Osamu hums and keeps typing.
<< Osamu >>
save me
“What do you want?” he says to his brother.
“Just get over here now. I’m hungry and I wanna start eating. Bring some umeboshi.”
“No.”
“It’s for Omi. Bring some.”
Osamu hears someone call Atsumu an idiot in the background and he assumes it’s Sakusa from the low and gravelly voice. He also says something else but-
<< Suna Rin >>
Lol good luck with that
Osamu sends back a sad emoji and then hangs up on Atsumu without another word.
V League season has wrapped up for the year a few days ago and Atsumu has, much to Osamu’s chagrin, decided to come back to Hyogo for the weeklong break. He’s been on the Jackals for five years and every other time, he’s come home all by his lonesome and Osamu was more than okay with that.
But this year, in a surprisingly turn of events, his sloth of a twin has somehow managed to bag the most uptight clean freak in all of Japan. Well, Osamu said ‘somehow’ but it isn’t all that mysterious. Over the past two years, Osamu has been at the receiving end of Atsumu lamenting over his failed attempts to woo the guy. Osamu straight up told him to give up at one point when it seemed plenty clear that Sakusa Kiyoomi was far out of Atsumu’s dating league and he would only end up getting himself hurt.
Apparently Osamu was wrong.
He still maintains that his brother has Sakusa under some sort of spell. Or paid him.
In any case, both Atsumu and Sakusa owed him since their relationship was only possible because Osamu put up with their mess and supplied near unlimited amount of umeboshi onigiri at their games. He’s lost count of the times he’s had to wipe Atsumu’s face prints off counters.
Osamu leaves the shop in his manager’s care and drives to his parents’ house, a packet of umeboshi in the passenger seat. With the evening traffic, the drive takes about half an hour, excluding the journey over winding hills with narrow streets that Osamu has to navigate through. He swears the streets get narrower every time he comes. It’s funny how he never noticed it when he and Atsumu used to walk to and from the train station across these very streets.
Osamu parks the car outside and hopes that no one complains about the road being blocked. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to get up at midnight to move his car.
His mum comes to welcome him like she always does when she knows he’s coming and has been waiting too long. This means she immediately grabs his face and turns it from side to side. She does not like what she finds there.
“Why do you have eyebags, Osamu? Are ya not sleeping well?” she says by way of greeting.
Osamu kisses her cheek to distract her. “I’m fine, Ma. Just closed up late last night. Where’s Pa?”
She’s not happy with that and narrows her eyes. Since he and Atsumu moved out, she never seems to be happy with either of them. It’s either ‘too skinny’ or ‘too tired’ or ‘too stressed’. He knows she just misses them a lot.
Nonetheless she lets him change the subject. “He’s setting up the table with Atsumu and his partner.”
Osamu tries not to notice the subtle shift in her smile, the slight emphasis on the last word or the pause before it. That’s a lot of things to not notice so he guides his mum inside instead. It is the first time either of them has ever brought anyone home. It’s bound to be strange for their parents at first.
The furniture in the house is arranged differently to the last time he was here, which is how Osamu knows his dad has been stressing a bucketload between then and now. Growing up in this house was never being quite sure what state he’d come home to or wake up to. Sometimes it was just a change in arrangement of photos on the mantle or books on the shelf. Other times he’d find a whole new set of dining chairs. Stubbed toes were a daily occurrence in their childhood.
Now Osamu takes note of the living room turned ninety degrees clockwise so a mess of cables connects the TV to the socket on an adjacent wall. The kitchen, he’s surprised to find, has stayed the same, with the exception of three big men hovering around the room, making it smaller than Osamu remembers.
“Finally,” Atsumu says, wiping down the silverware – which they’ve never done before eating. “Did you bring the umeboshi?”
Osamu ignores him. “Hi, Pa. Sakusa.”
“Hey, kiddo,” his dad says, giving a grin before he goes back to scooping soup into a bowl. His glasses are fogged up but he hasn’t bothered pushing it to his head so Ma goes to take it off his face.
Sakusa nods in regards, stiffly taking two steaming bowls to the table. “Osamu.”
“Hey!” Atsumu bursts, flinging his arms out in protest. “Why am I ‘Miya’ but he gets ‘Osamu’?”
“Maybe he likes me better,” Osamu prods with a smirk. “I am the better twin.”
He gets scolded by his mum for that but Sakusa seems mildly amused at Atsumu being made fun of. The guy might be a pain in the ass on court but Osamu always did have a feeling he’d like him. The more time they spend together, the more Osamu figures why.
When dinner gets underway, the table setting becomes something else entirely that none of them are used to and it shows. Where before Osamu and Atsumu would sit facing their parents, their dad now takes up one end, their mum the other with the two lovebirds side by side and Osamu on the opposite. Passing plates of food across the table is a whole ordeal.
It’s not like they’re making it an ordeal because they’re all deep in conversation but maybe that’s why it’s so stilted.
“So you went to university too?” Ma asks, clearly impressed. She’s always wanted her sons to go to university but neither were interested in that. Still, they made good of themselves if you asked Osamu.
“Yes, ma’am,” Sakusa answers. “I have a bachelor in pathology.”
“Oh, my. You must be very smart! You choose a good man, Atsumu.”
Sakusa smiles tightly, trying to not seem so uncomfortable, and Atsumu has never looked prouder – not even after Kita-san once told him he did ‘an excellent job’ during a game.
“Can you pass me the tofu please?” Pa says.
Four hands reach for the plate at once. And all retreat at once. A four-way staring contest ensues and Atsumu quickly decides he’s winning this one, taking the hot plate with bare hands, hissing when it burns him. Dumbass.
Without any sympathy for his own son, Pa asks Sakusa, “So ya joined the team later than Atsumu?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve only been on the team for two years officially but I’ve been training with them for longer.”
“And we went to the youth training camp together back in high school,” Atsumu butts in because he hasn’t had enough attention in a while. “So ya can say we’ve been friends for like a decade now.”
Sakusa seems inclined to disagree. With a frown, he watches as Atsumu absentmindedly places more takoyaki onto his plate, grabbing Atsumu’s hand when he goes for a third. They’re so disgustingly cute together. Osamu bets the only reason Atsumu isn’t spoon-feeding Sakusa is because their parents are there, parents who definitely notice what their son does for his boyfriend without a second thought.
Osamu would pretend to retch but he’s twenty-three now. This is beneath him and also, he doesn’t want to make a bigger deal out of this than necessary. Maybe at one point, he would’ve but ever since that one night, the dinner table has become a place for maturity. Atsumu sitting beside him, declaring out of nowhere, “I love Kita-san.”
Osamu would’ve called bullshit if not for Atsumu’s absolutely honesty and bluntness in a way that’s different to when he’s trying to be a jerk. As it was, he just watched Atsumu with a feeling in his stomach that wasn’t all that pleasant and unsure what to do about it, about his twin brother who was less than a foot from him and yet never felt more distant. For the first time in Osamu’s life, he lost his appetite. Everything he ate tasted like ash stuck in his mouth as their parents asked questions, trying to their best to understand.
“Kita? Your captain?”
“Are ya sure, son?”
“Look, it might be confusing at yer age-”
“I’m not confused. I love Kita-san. I like guys. Only guys.”
“…All right. Well. What do you want us to say?”
“Nothin’. Just thought ya’ll should know I won’t be bringing a girl home.”
After dinner, as they packed up, Ma took Atsumu’s hand and said, “I still love you.”
Osamu had known him inside and out for sixteen years but he’d never seen the face Atsumu made in that moment.
They lied on their bunk beds that night and Osamu asked into the dark, “Kita-san, huh?”
“Yeah.”
But not forever, apparently.
“I’m so happy that you finally have someone to keep yer feet on the ground, Atsumu,” he catches the last words his mum says with mirth in her eyes that’s more real than anything this evening. “Kiyoomi dear, if he’s being stupid, feel free to smack him.”
“Ma!” Atsumu cries.
“Yes, ma’am,” Sakusa answers dutifully, smirking at his boyfriend.
“And you, Osamu,” she says, pointing her chopsticks at the other son. “When will ya get a girlfriend?”
Ha! “I just haven’t met the right one yet.”
Well, he has. There’s a girl from Fukurodani who came to matches with Akaashi a few times and she is exactly Osamu’s type. She knows how to appreciate food and isn’t shy about it. The only problem is that Shirofuku Yukie likes girls and Osamu doesn’t.
“We’re not getting any younger, you know,” Ma says with a pointed look.
“Let the boy be, Ichika.”
“I’m serious! I can stop worryin’ about Atsumu now and I want that for Osamu too.”
Atsumu pipes, “Sorry, Ma, but look at him. He ain’t ever getting anyone.”
“You did,” Sakusa points out.
“Omi-kun!” Atsumu whines, placing a lot emphasis on kun. “Yer not meant to say stuff like that to me.”
Atsumu goes on a rant about being a good boyfriend and how he and Osamu look nothing like each other anymore and how he’s gotten more handsome. Ma laughs and Pa looks on at the two in amusement and Osamu watches from outside of that bubble, relieved to have the attention shifted and relieved to see smiles as tension ebbs little by little.
*
After dinner, Osamu is back in his old room that he used to share with Atsumu. He’s sharing again tonight as Sakusa takes the guest room but hopefully Atsumu fucks off over there too soon. His old clothes smell of mothballs and are tight across his shoulders and Atsumu sneers at him to say, “I told you to bring yer shit.”
“You could let me borrow yours.”
That’s a joke and they both know it.
“No, thanks. I don’t want ‘em smelling of tuna.”
Why is Atsumu still standing around in the room? It’s clearly not big enough for the two of them anymore and Osamu knows for a fact that Atsumu would rather spend his night in the guest room. “Why don’t you go save yer boyfriend from Ma. Or go save yerself. You know she’s telling him about yer childhood.”
Osamu’s phone bwoops with notification at that moment. Atsumu leans over to read but says, “Fine, I will.”
He hurries out the door. Osamu picks up the phone.
<< Suna Rin >>
How did it go? awkward as hell?
<< Osamu >>
nothing is on fire so better than I thought?
I’m surprised sakusa isnt that weird
<< Suna Rin >>
Boring but I wish I could’ve seen that
Osamu looks around the room, at the bunkbed, at the dusty, deflated volleyball in the corner and hears faint chatter in the living room. Sounds like his mum got the photo albums out.
<< Osamu >>
hey, you free right now?
<< Suna Rin >>
Yeah
Wanna come over?
<< Osamu >>
I’ll be there in 15
Osamu pulls on an Inarizaki jacket and heads downstairs, calling, “I’m gonna go out for a bit. Anyone want anything?”
“Where are ya going?” his dad asks, twisting around on the couch.
“The ice-cream place near my shop. They have the best ice-cream sandwiches.”
Everyone in his family is used to Osamu’s specific cravings so they don’t even bat an eyelash but Sakusa gives him a funny look as if to say, ‘You want ice-cream at eight o’clock at night?’ Atsumu shouts an order, which Osamu tells to buy for himself and then he’s out the door.
~
Suna is sitting on the doorstep, playing on his phone, when Osamu pulls up into the driveway. His immediate reaction is to comment on the too-tight high school jacket as he leads Osamu inside. His mum is watching TV with her girlfriend and gives Osamu a wave as he passes by.
It is still odd to see the two of them together. Suna’s dad left during their last year of high school and it was a complete mess that took a toll on him enough to consider quitting volleyball (because it was his dad who got him into the sport in the first place). But Suna kept at it in a sort of defiance like, ‘Watch how far I can go without you,’ while his mum – in an ultimate power move – started dating a woman just four months later after a twenty-year marriage that ended up in flames.
Osamu and Suna grab two cans of coca cola and head out the back door to sit on the old, rusting swing set. One of the three seats have broken off its chains and they’ve grown out of years ago but it remained as a favourite hangout spot.
“So it turns out Motoya does know about his cousin coming to Kobe,” Suna starts, opening his can. “I thought Atsumu might’ve kidnapped him or something.”
Osamu, having already opened his own coke, takes a swig. “I bet Tsumu sold his soul to the devil to make this happen. Dunno what Sakusa could possibly see in him.”
Suna snorts and it’s still the most adorable thing Osamu has ever heard. “Hasn’t it only been like two months? A bit early to be meeting parents.”
“Three, and I don’t know what goes through his chicken brain. Don’t wanna know.”
“So how did your parents take it?”
Suna is looking at him properly, expectantly, eyes boring into the side of Osamu’s face. He takes another swig so he won’t have to answer right away. “They’re cool with it. Sakusa impressed ‘em plenty with his degree in patho-whatever.”
Suna hums in thought. “Well, I have a diploma in computer science. Think they’d be impressed by that?”
Osamu looks at Suna to see if he’s joking and finds no signs of humour, staring intensely instead. His eyes are bright from the yellow light of the patio that drapes warmth over him, highlighting everything Osamu loves about him; his high cheekbones, his sharp jawline and the full arch of his lips.
He’s so beautiful, Osamu thinks. Then, Why would you ask something like that?
“Why do ya want to know?”
Suna keeps staring, a tick in the jaw the only sign that he heard at all. You know why, his eyes say. “Just wondering,” is what he answers, shaking himself out of whatever he was thinking. “What happened to your hand?”
He changes the subject and takes Osamu’s free hand, brushing a thumb over the bandaid on his finger, the touch light as a feather.
“Cut it on a knife yesterday. It’s not big.”
He smiles up lazily at Osamu. “You, top culinary grad, still cut yourself on knives?”
“It was an accident. Someone left it in the sink.”
Suna hums and continues brushing his thumb. His hands are always cold and calloused and Osamu knows them well on his skin. In the dead of summer, he used to press those cold hands between his, bigger than his own, in less of an attempt to warm them and more so simply because he wanted to.
“I don’t need a fan when I’ve got yer hands,” he used to say.
Suna flips their hands over and so that Osamu’s rest on his thigh, leaving his own hand on top, loosely weaving their fingers in a pseudo-hold. “That’s dangerous,” he says, “Is it a new employee?”
Osamu wonders how long they’ll keep playing this game. The flirting-but-not, the long looks, the casual touches loaded with something far more than Osamu can handle but far less than what he wants.
Years ago when Suna was still going to a community college before his V League days, Osamu joined him at a house party. He doesn’t remember the drinking or the leadup but he vividly remembers pressing Suna against the wall, cold hands beneath his shirt, their warm mingling breaths and heavy-lidded eyes. He remembers the jut of Suna’s hipbone beneath his palm and the sharp scent of his favourite deodorant. Osamu could’ve flicked his tongue out and tasted the alcohol on Suna’s lips.
He remembers pulling away and Suna chasing him until it became clear that Osamu was chickening out. They never talked about it again. They were both drunk, or at least tipsy. It never should’ve happened anyway, not like that.
Osamu gently slides his hand out from beneath Suna’s as he says, “It doesn’t matter who it was.”
Suna isn’t looking at him anymore but at the hand Osamu has taken back. He has the same look on his face as when he broke the news of his dad leaving.
Something in Osamu breaks because he loves Suna. Maybe he always has and it took Atsumu’s shameless declaration of love for another boy for Osamu to realise what he felt was love. He wants to hold Suna’s hand with no feelings barred, wants to kiss him with everything he has and give the world on a banquet for the boy who makes him happy in a way no one else can.
“Osamu,” Suna says quietly but with all the force of a thousand anvils falling on his chest. “What do you want from me?”
Everything. He wants everything from Suna and yet he’s afraid to give, held back by a single promise that no one but he knows.
Suna sighs when Osamu can’t give an answer. “If this isn’t going to happen, you need to tell me so I can move on.”
Please don’t move on. “It’s complicated, Rin. I really don’t know what to tell ya.”
“I don’t let just anyone call me ‘Rin’, Osamu. At least say no so I can go back to being just a friend.”
Osamu isn’t sure either of them really knows how to be that again, despite never having been anything more. But he doesn’t want that again because Osamu doesn’t know what it feels like to not wait for Suna’s texts, to not save onigiri for Suna after matches, to not call him ‘Rin’.
Osamu would always try to be at EJP’s games and Suna would turn up at the Nagano Onigiri Miya branch and they’d go out for drinks and fall asleep on the couch together, the TV hot from staying on all night. Maybe they’d do the same as friends but Osamu can’t handle the thought of Suna looking at him and only seeing a friend. That title is for people like Atsumu and Komori and Sakusa. Worse still, Osamu aches at the thought of Suna looking at someone else and seeing more.
“What are you so afraid of?” Suna says, annoyance seeping into his usually calm voice.
“No.”
“What?”
“I’m sayin’ ‘no,’ just like ya asked.”
Suna takes a long drink of his coke and Osamu does the same, swallowing it around the lump in his throat.
“Alright,” Suna breathes, face tiled to the sky. The clouds have stolen away the stars and only a halo is left where the moon should be. He looks like he might cry and Osamu doesn’t trust himself to wipe the tears off again. “Just so you know,” he continues, steadier than he seems, “I’ve loved you for six years so it will take me a while to stop. Make it easier for me and let’s not see each other for now, yeah?”
Osamu’s mouth is dry but he takes the hint and pulls himself to his feet. Suna still watches the sky like he might find a solution there or he might be trying to blink back tears.
He doesn’t look at Osamu when he gives a parting pat on his back or says his goodbye. Cruel as it is, Osamu hopes he looks at him as he walks back into the house alone and silently take his leave.
For the first time, he thinks, This is unfair.
All of this is unfair. Osamu is unfair, so is Atsumu and so are their parents.
~
Osamu is at the shop by seven a.m. His phone stays turned off in the locker and he focuses on washing the rice, slicing salmon, preparing tuna, refilling seasoning bottles and soy sauce, everything that ordinarily demands nothing more than muscle memory. If his employees notice anything off about him, they respectfully give him space. Even Naoko, the one who left the knife in the sink and doesn’t know the meaning of ‘quiet’, is quiet. That’s the only reason Osamu even notices everyone is wary around him.
He tries to get lost in the process of making onigiri, in the gentle kneading of rice into shape, in wrapping nori around it and packing in plastic sheets. He tries to fill up the empty hole inside him with half the onigiri he makes but they never seem to reach their destination.
Later in the day, Atsumu storms into the shop with Sakusa trailing after.
“Why’d ya run off this morning? I was gonna ask ya to give us a lift,” he complains immediately. He’s bad for business. He’ll scare off customers.
“I’m not yer fucking taxi driver. I have work to do.”
“Woulda been nice if you dropped us off in the city on the way to work.”
“What do ya want, Tsumu?”
Atsumu frowns, carefully watching Osamu who has gripped the knife handle hard. “Two of yer mega onigiri,” he says. “One umeboshi, one kombu.”
They eat together in the shop and watching them is nauseating. Atsumu has never looked at anybody like that, like they put the sun in the sky and make flowers bloom. Not even Kita-san was the object of such adoration and Osamu thought that was bad enough. This is like salt in open wound.
“Can you two leave?” he straight up tells them when he’s had enough of their laughter. “Aren’t ya going to Himeji Castle or something today?”
Atsumu wouldn’t shut up about their plans last night. Him being alive today is a testament to Osamu’s patience, which is quickly wearing thin.
Atsumu looks irritated at being the receiving end of bluntness. “We changed plans. We’re hittin’ the city today.”
“Alright. Go then.”
Osamu doesn’t give him time to respond before he walks off. When the two leave, he pretends he doesn’t see the last glare his brother shoots him.
~
Osamu sits through another family dinner in silence. He eats his food and washes up when he’s done and he waits in the living room, browsing through channels on the TV.
“No seconds?” his dad asked when he stood up, genuinely surprised.
“This is why yer losing weight,” his mum added. “Have some more, Osamu.”
“It’s fine. I ate at the shop too,” he lied. He couldn’t bear to look them in the eyes.
Osamu fiddles with his phone as he listens to the bustle of conversation from the kitchen. It’s mostly Atsumu talking, which doesn’t help with whatever this ugly feeling is in his chest. It’s worse when his dad teases and his mum laughs.
The only new text on his phone is from a guy whose name has slipped his mind sometime during that night they spent together. Three nights ago. He doesn’t delete it this time.
On Saturday nights, their family played games. Osamu is no longer interested in Monopoly and he’s sure Sakusa never had an interest but Osamu puts up with it for old times’ sake. Everyone always cheats like no one’s business and for an hour, blood relations mean nothing and property auctions are cutthroat.
Tonight, Sakusa – someone who’s been in this house a total of thirty hours – fits into this little world better than Osamu who lived here for eighteen years.
“Ha!” Atsumu yells. “Pay up, losers!”
“That’s not even your property,” Sakusa points out.
“Yeah, but it’s yours and what’s yours is mine, right?”
“No.”
“Shut the hell up, Tsumu,” Osamu finds himself saying.
There’s nothing out of the ordinary about that phrase. It gets mercilessly flung around like a hot potato all the time on game night. But the way he said it makes everyone pause for a moment. Atsumu narrows his eyes.
“How much do I owe you now?” their dad asks to get things back on track, subtly eyeing Osamu from the corner of his eyes.
Sakusa names a price and the game goes on but not without Osamu attracting his mum’s attention too. They won’t ask him what’s wrong or pressure him to talk about it but sometimes he wishes they would. He has a lot to say.
And he’s not done saying any of them.
When Atsumu grumbles about having to pay fines, Osamu snaps, “Stop yer bitching. You got five hundred dollars stashed up yer sleeve.”
“Osamu, language,” his mum warns tentatively. “We have guests.”
Sakusa looks on wearily like he’s just gotten stuck in a crossfire of some sort. He has.
Osamu says nothing for the rest of the evening and excuses himself into his room early to prevent any more stupid shit from coming out of his mouth, saying he’s tired and has to get up early tomorrow.
His phone still only has one new message and it’s from a nameless dude.
<< Unknown Number >>
Hey, was the other night a one time thing? I was pretty drunk and I don’t remember anything we said. Lemme know
Atsumu comes into the room before he has a chance to start typing a response. He carefully closes the door behind him and rounds on Osamu.
“What the fuck is wrong with ya?”
“Nothing.”
Atsumu hisses under his breath, “Cut the crap, Samu. You’ve been an asshole since you came back from Suna’s last night.” When he sees Osamu’s widened eyes, he adds, “Yeah, I know ya went there. What happened?”
“Why do you care?”
Atsumu has no right to look so unimpressed and Osamu’s hands itch with the need to knock it off his face.
“I care because I brought my boyfriend home and yer being a prissy little bitch.”
“Well, excuse me for fucking up yer love life but at least you’re allowed one.” The words are out of his mouth before he realises and Atsumu definitely heard them.
“What does that mean?”
They’ve moved towards each other close enough to grab each other’s throats and Osamu so desperately wants to rattle sense into his brother and scream in his face. He knows he’s looking for an outlet and that Atsumu just happens to be a convenient one but surrounded by everything from their childhood, the temptation to fall back into that familiar rhythm is strong.
But he backs off, muttering, “Don’t worry about it.”
“Samu, what does that mean?” Atsumu repeats louder, becoming truly angry but what is he angry about? He has everything Osamu wants and constantly throws it into his face but doesn’t even realise it. In ways that count, Atsumu is happier than him.
“I rejected Suna, okay?” he snaps.
Atsumu is momentarily taken aback but his anger comes back full force. “What, that’s my fault somehow?”
Holy fuck, Osamu wants to strangle him. He’s never realised. This selfish bastard never stopped to think about Osamu. He lowers his voice. “Remember when ya came out to Ma and Pa and you thought they were fine with that?”
His brother’s hardass expression falters just a little bit. “They were.”
“With you, yeah. But Ma cried afterwards and you know what Pa said? He said, ‘At least there’s still Osamu.’” Atsumu frowns but Osamu is far from done. “So while you’ve been living however ya want and loving whoever ya want, I never had that choice.”
Their parents wanted something out of him that he could never give so even if Osamu couldn’t do that, the least he could do was not hurt them. He decided that as he stood in front of their parents’ bedroom door, hearing a conversation he wasn’t meant to. At the time, he didn’t realise exactly how difficult it would be to keep that promise.
Atsumu jabs a finger at Osamu’s chest, stepping closer. “You don’t get to blame that on me. I never asked ya to be ‘the good son’ or some shit.”
Osamu pushes back. “Then why couldn’t you wait for me? Why was that the first time I heard about you liking Kita-san?”
“So is that what this is about? Because I didn’t tell you first?”
“Yes- no- Fuck, I don’t- No.”
No, it isn’t just about that but it has been there at the back of Osamu’s mind for years. For all his pretence about disliking his brother, Osamu loved him more than anyone in the world. Up until that dinner, they’d done every big thing together their whole lives; from being born to playing volleyball, from knocking out their front teeth during a second-grade scuffle to learning how to drive. So this, perhaps the biggest thing to have ever happened, only to have Atsumu leave him in the dust, hurt.
“I was scared, okay?” Atsumu says lowly like it pains him to admit it. “I didn’t know how you or Ma and Pa would react so I ripped the bandaid off as fast as I could. I didn’t think ya cared or that ya even like guys back then.”
“I didn’t either until ya blurted it out.”
Atsumu folds his arms over his chest. “Well, what do you want me to do about it now? Tell them for you?”
“Don’t,” Osamu says quickly.
His brother seems to understand. Atsumu is an asshole and there’s no two ways about it. But beneath that stellar bluntness and less-than-admirable personality is someone who cares deeply about what people think of him, someone afraid to disappoint others. Osamu, the original Miya twin, is exactly like that too but the difference is that Atsumu might be afraid of judgement but he isn’t afraid to climb over that wall of insecurity.
“So what?” Atsumu challenges. “Yer just gonna keep sleeping around? Yeah, I know about that too and so does Suna. That shit hurt him and I can’t even imagine what ya said yesterday.”
“Exactly. Suna deserves better than that.”
Atsumu epically rolls his eyes. “I told him that but the guy is an idiot.”
Osamu looks down at the pocket where his phone is. “Yeah, well, I think he hates me now so.”
Atsumu pinches the bridge of his nose like the dramatic bastard that he is. “Whatever messed up train wreck you have in yer head, fix it. Stop giving a shit about what people think. The only person standing in the way of yer happiness is yourself.”
With that closing line, Atsumu leaves.
~
Osamu spends that night in his childhood bedroom looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars from nearly two decades ago, the same stars he looked at as he decided he would quit volleyball, still bitter that Atsumu kept something so big from him. Everything seems to be in the open now but nothing is clear and the room is small and suffocating and the ceiling is too close and he has to curl his legs to fit into the bedframe.
He leaves early again the next morning and goes back to his own apartment in the evening, replying to the unknown number. He feels guilty thinking about cool hands on his body instead of these warm ones and it hurts like hell that the owner of those cool hands might never be the one leaning over Osamu.
Unless.
He thinks about this more than he has ever given thought to anything. He’s spent his whole life knowing exactly what he wanted and how he intended to get them. He wanted to be a spiker in volleyball and later he wanted to quit. He wanted to go to culinary school and he wanted to have his own shop and open up branches all over Japan, and now he is well on his way to getting those.
But he wants Suna too and he’s just taken two steps back from perhaps the most important thing to him. Every time he thinks about Suna, he remembers standing outside his parents’ bedroom and his mum’s muffled sobs.
At least there’s still Osamu.
Everything that he has now would not be possible without his parents. Without their support, Onigiri Miya would not exist. They’ve been with him every step of the way to success and to spring something like this on them when they relied on him with one simple thing most people wouldn’t have a problem providing? How ungrateful does that make him? How selfish?
Ya don’t owe them that, Atsumu’s voice says.
Well, technically Osamu owes them his life.
It’s not right to ask that of you, the annoying voice in his head argues.
He knows that. But knowing something and acting upon it, he’s come to learn, are two different things. And he’s not like Atsumu. He can’t just chase his own happiness while breaking someone else’s heart.
The voice is quiet for a moment. Then Atsumu says with finality, I’m not breaking their hearts.
Those words stay with Osamu every waking moment. He doesn’t go back to his parents’ house or see any of his family for days but they replay like a broken record and he almost snaps at Naoko for adding to the cacophony in his head. The kid hasn’t even been doing anything wrong.
In that time, Suna does not text him nor call him. All traces of life disappear from social media – which is saying something because Suna is always on his phone – and Osamu worries. He has half a mind to make Atsumu ask if he’s okay but that might be contradictorily inconsiderate of him. No matter what Atsumu says, they still have the same face and Suna shouldn’t have to see either of them.
Six years. Suna has loved him for six years. Osamu doesn’t want him to stop.
When he drives to his parents’ house for a final family dinner before Sakusa and Atsumu leave, he almost misses his turn because he has Suna’s house in mind.
Osamu parks the car in the too-narrow street and it’s Atsumu who opens the door for him this time. He looks at Osamu wearily.
“I’m surprised you came.”
“Pa called me this morning.”
“Got your shit together yet?”
“Go fuck yerself, Tsumu,” Osamu replies.
He gets a punch in the arm for that, which is how he knows they’re okay now.
Dinner seating is familiar this time and Osamu can still only look at one parent at a time, which is a blessing and a curse. He tries to throw himself into conversation but they’re talking about new training regimes the Jackals’ coach wants to implement for the upcoming season and how Atsumu’s rent in Tokyo is going up so he’d have to request a dorm from the team housing management. Osamu knows jack shit about it.
He wonders if Suna’s rent in Nagano is going up. His flatmate moved out a few months ago so he’s been trying to find someone to fill the space and ease the financial load. Osamu has stayed over a few times when he heads up to the Onigiri Miya there to check in or just to see Suna. It’s a four-hour drive but it’s always worth it. He gets to watch Suna train with EJP and it’s almost like Inarizaki again when Osamu watched from the side, transfixed by the way Suna moved, by the way he would send lazy smiles that always managed to trip his heart.
He won’t get to do that again.
At least there’s still Osamu.
I’m not breaking their hearts.
What are you so afraid of?
“I love Suna,” he mumbles, the words foreign on his tongue. Seven years and this is the first time he’s ever spoken them.
It’s so quiet that it seems like no one would hear him but the table goes silent. His parents didn’t catch the words properly and Sakusa looks confused but Atsumu knows.
“Um, babe,” he says to Sakusa. “Ya have to call Bokkun to tell him about this thing, right?”
“What thing?” Sakusa asks with a frown and then quickly catches on as if his disaster-sensor is ringing. “Right. The, uh, compression sleeves.” He excuses himself and hightails out the dining room before anyone can stop him.
“What was that about?” Pa says, looking at the two of them in familiar suspicion.
“Ma, Pa, Samu has something he’s been wanting to say for a long time,” Atsumu announces. He gives Osamu a Look that’s part encouragement and part taunt but Osamu’s mouth has gone dry within the past twenty seconds.
At least there’s still Osamu.
“I like Suna,” he repeats slowly and then realises his mistake. “I love Suna. From Inarizaki. He plays for EJP now.”
His parents sitting on opposite ends of the table means that he can get away with not looking at one person for too long. He sees a bit of his dad’s blank face and his mum’s wide-eyed shock. He sees Atsumu’s subtle nod like this solves everything. This does not.
Osamu should feel relieved, like a weight off his shoulders so why does it still press down on him heavier than ever? Why do hands grip his ankles, keeping him in the chair? He can’t get away from his dad’s face gradually falling with understanding or his mum’s lips pressed tight into a thin line, tears starting to well in her eyes.
Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry.
His dad places the chopsticks on the table. He’s not angry. His dad never gets angry but his disappointment is far worse. “Is this a prank?”
Osamu shakes his head.
“I don’t understand,” Ma says quietly like she’s trying to keep Sakusa from having to hear this or because she’s lost her voice. “This whole time…”
“Yeah,” Osamu whispers. He’s shaking. His hands are shaking so hard his chopstick clink clink clinks against his plate. Miya Osamu, twenty-three years old and shaking like a blender because he came out to his parents. Pathetic.
“I thought you…” Pa trails off but then thinks better of it and continues, “I thought you’d marry a girl and have a family.”
“He can have a family,” Atsumu says straight away. “I can too if I wanna. Does it matter who with?”
Pa shakes his head like he’s forgotten himself for a moment and pushes his glasses up with a finger. “Right, of course. I just mean-”
“It’s a surprise,” Ma cuts him off softly. “We just weren’t expecting you both to like boys, that’s all.”
What are you so afraid of?
Osamu is not sure he’s capable of saying anything else so he mumbles, “I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” Atsumu snaps. “Ya have nothing to apologise for.”
Osamu is about to snap back just as viciously because Atsumu doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand the pressure that rides upon Osamu because he never had to deal with it. Before he can start a fight, Ma gently takes his shaking hand, coaxing the chopsticks out of his grip.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” she says like she’s speaking to a spooked animal. “It’s a shock to both of us but maybe that’s our fault for not paying enough attention. Suna used to visit all the time. We should’ve realised sooner.”
Pa sighs. “Ya have to understand, Osamu, we accept you and we thank you for telling us but we need time to process this.”
Osamu nods but Atsumu is apparently feeling extra supportive today as he adds, “He rejected Suna because he didn’t want to hurt you guys.”
“Tsumu, stop,” Osamu says but when has he become so quiet? He’s never been quiet in his entire life. He’s never trembled so hard and with another hand wrapped around his own, the shaking is much more obvious.
Ma tightens her hold, mouth ajar as if she’s horrified. “Oh, honey, no. I…” She swallows around her words.
Osamu thinks it’s like the time her sister crashed her car into a tree and ended up in hospital. His mum was so angry but she was also worried sick. This face isn’t the same as the one on the night of Atsumu’s declaration. Back then, it was pure shock and barely-concealed disbelief – almost like the beginning stages of grief. Now, her eyes are alight as she sighs.
“I think ya heard me and Pa that night, didn’t ya?”
“He did,” Atsumu answers for him.
Ma looks ashamed, glancing at her husband who’s settled into silence. “I want you both to know that we,” another pointed look at her husband, “don’t care who you love. I admit, we had our reservations in the beginning. We were worried about how the world would treat you, treat our family.”
She turns to Atsumu. “Now I see you with Kiyoomi and I realise I worried for nothing because you’ve always been stronger than we are. And you, Osamu.” Tears return to her eyes as she turns to him, pressing her lips together. “I’m sorry for how we handled things then. I-”
She chokes on her words and Osamu has always been weak to his mum crying. But maybe that gives him the strength to finally leave his chair to kneel beside her, pulling her into him.
“I love you,” she says through a sob, holding him against her chest. “Ya tried to not hurt us but you were hurting for so long. From now on, you love who you love and never let anyone take that from ya.”
Osamu can only nod through the echo of his booming heartbeat, hearing the words he’s prayed for years. His ma keeps murmuring ‘I love you’, stroking his hair the way she used to when they were little and scared of thunderstorms, and he can’t help but lean in, revelling in the warm and the relief the has suddenly flooded his veins.
He can love Suna without hurting his parents. He gets to be happy too.
Atsumu joins him on the other side and Ma pulls both of them into her arms at once. On the other end of the table, their dad musters a weary smile before he comes over and joins the embrace. He says nothing else on the matter but that’s okay for now. He needs time.
When Osamu stands, he finally feels lighter than he has in a long time. Atsumu smirks at him like the cocky bastard that he is, like he’s saying, ‘So ya do have guts.’ But beneath that is something rare and genuine.
Osamu claps him on the shoulder. “Thanks.”
Atsumu rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
Sakusa awkwardly comes back and dinner continues. There’s another weird sort of feeling around the table but it seems to be a good kind of weird this time. The freeing kind that comes with dropping a seven-year-long, twenty-tonne secret. Ma asks about Suna and their relationship and then chastises him for stringing Suna on for years.
Whatever this dinner table has become, it’s not the normal that it used to be. It has become something more, one empty seat filled and the other waiting. It has seen a long-overdue conversation and a step towards change none of them are completely prepared for but are willing. They’ve all grown and matured as people.
The one thing that has not changed is Atsumu’s subtle support. Osamu might look at him as an example of what not to do but he knows he can always count on his brother when he needs it most.
<< Osamu >>
I’m afraid of losing you.