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The winter wind whipped around Atsumu as he ran for shelter, black jacket pulled over his head for cover. Through the sheets of rain, he could just make out the familiar Onigiri Miya sign, bright against the night sky. As he approached the locked entrance, he sacrificed his jacket-shelter to rummage around his pockets, feeling the chilled water of the rain drip down his neck. Cursing, he knocked frantically, before returning to patting his jean pockets with shivering hands. With a triumphant yelp he found the key and unlocked the glass door. The inside of the restaurant was dark, the streetlights outside casting shadows of the rain as it ran down the front display windows. Through the dim light, Atsumu could see the chairs stacked up on the tables, and the contrast from the bustling restaurant of the morning was always unnerving.
He kicked the door shut behind him, dropping the code into the security system before heading behind the counter and past the kitchen. Two steps at a time, he jogged up the stairs, kicking his shoes off once he reached the top and dropping his uniform bag at the door. Osamu would hit him up the head if he saw the mess Atsumu had made already, but Atsumu reasoned that it was Osamu’s own fault for not telling him he would be out whilst knowing he’d be coming over after practice.
As Atsumu stepped into the living room, warmth billowed out from the adjacent kitchen, the smell of frying vegetables snaking its way through the room. Atsumu paused at the idea that Osamu had been home all along. After the frigid rain outside having frozen his nose, the warm flushed Atsumu’s face as he followed the smell. “Osamu,” he scowled as he walked in, “You knew I was coming! You could have opened the door-!”
Atsumu froze by the door of the kitchen, water still dripping from his hair onto his cheek.
The figure in the kitchen hummed at him from the stove. Careful hands stirred the fry up on the stove carefully, standing with ease in his brothers’ kitchen.
Kita Shinsuke did not take his eyes off the food as he began plating up, only looking up at Atsumu once the stove was turned off. “Atsumu,” he said in greeting, placing three plates on the accompanying low-lying table. “Osamu has just gone out to get some drinks, he said we were celebrating your teams’ win tonight.”
Atsumu shook himself out of his frozen state, hand ruffling through wet hair as he stared at the placements of the dishes. There was two plates side by side and one opposite, and with a sense of incoming dread, Atsumu wondered which was for him. He glanced absently to Kita, slow to respond, hand rubbing his neck as he replied. “Yeah.” He agreed, clearing his throat, “it was Sakusa though, really, his receives in the last set were great.”
Kita hummed, seemingly unperturbed by the awkward stretch of silence before Atsumu’s answer. Atsumu shook himself minutely, before heading to the counter, picking up the other dishes Kita hadn’t set out yet. He worked on autopilot, his head a swarm of questions as he worked with Kita in silence. As he helped set the table, his mind brought him back to cleaning up the gym at the end of long summer days, him and Osamu sternly overlooked by Kita’s all-seeing gaze. In the silence of the room, the faint echo of summer bugs still rung in his ears, the sharp squeak of volleyball shoes running under the creak of Osamu’s old cupboard drawers.
Why was Kita here? Atsumu thought aimlessly, Why was he in Osamu’s house by himself? Osamu never gets drinks to celebrate with him, so why has he gone now?
Setting the final glass down on the table, Atsumu absently wiped down the part of the table in front of him before taking his seat. He sat facing the other two chairs, watching Kita wipe down the kitchen and washing his hands before approaching the table. As he got settled Atsumu spared a glance out the wide window, where the storm raged on, slightly muted but wild enough to whistle through the murky silence of the kitchen.
Kita watched him from the other side of the table, his face a vibrant smile to anyone who knew how to read stoic faces. Atsumu thought of breaking the silence but thought better of it, looking at the way the dishware was splayed out so properly on the table, covered and awaiting their third guest. Atsumu withheld a grimace, how was the homeowner the one missing from this impromptu meet up?
He took the time to take in the tan Kita had developed, the gentle roughness of a man dedicated to thriving in nature. Kita carried confidence with him just like in high school, but in the aftermath of a youth full of adoration, Atsumu could appreciate Kita's newfound warmth.
“Say, Atsumu,” Kita began, pausing to pour out some juice, “how have you been? How is your team?” He slid the second cup forward to Atsumu.
Atsumu couldn’t help but feel as though he was being bribed even as he sipped the seemingly fresh fruit juice before placing it back down on the coaster. He couldn’t really drink so much sugar during game season, Kiyoomi would have his head if he found out Atsumu wasn’t following the guidance they’d been given. He cleared his throat, sticky with seasonal fruit, “They’re good, we are doing well with throwing teams off using the new serve styles I’ve learnt.”
Kita nodded, eyes focused on him as he spoke. Atsumu looked down and shifted the coaster so it was aligned with the edge of the table before adding “I think our strong point is Sakusa’s new jump height though.” Atsumu had subtly been pushing Kiyoomi higher all through the season, until he had snapped and told Atsumu to just tell him his plans so he could add the appropriate exercises to his schedule. Atsumu had bashfully apologized and Sakusa had taken him for tea the next day, in his own Sakusa way of apologizing for snapping at him in front of the team.
“Ah, you must be proud of your teammate then,” Kita said carefully, looking away to drink as he did so. Atsumu pulled his hands into his laps, gripping his shins as he watched Kita. The storm eased up slightly outside as the silent pause continued to stretch out, before the brewing tension released with a roaring bellow of thunder.
“Why are you here?” Atsumu blurted out, hands shifting up his crossed legs, gripping his knees under the table.
Kita placed his glass back onto the coaster, seemingly unaffected by the rude question. Atsumu felt himself flush under the unaffected gaze. “Not that you can’t be here Kita-san,” Atsumu stared at him, knowing Kita appreciated candor, “but we both know this isn’t usual. I haven’t spoken to you since you graduated, and here you are in my brother’s kitchen, all casual.”
Kita’s brow furrowed for the shortest second, but Atsumu had surrounded himself with Kiyoomi’s, and Ushijima’s for long enough to notice the small things. Kita opened his mouth to reply just as the front door slammed shut, a bellowing greeting ringing through the house. Osamu rushed in, damp umbrella hanging by his side and carrier bag of drinks dripping with water. A cold breeze cut through the room as Osamu met Atsumu’s eyes, before flicking to Kita’s. In a flurry of movements, Osamu set the umbrella in the tiled holder, before pulling out the drinks and washing his hands. Atsumu watched him expectantly, knowing his brother could sense the questions radiating from him.
Osamu didn’t meet his eyes, drying his hands swiftly on a hand towel before seating himself besides Kita, opposite Atsumu.
Atsumu sat, wide-eyed, when he caught a glimpse of Osamu’s rosy warm complexion.
Oh.
Osamu slapped his hand together in a quick prayer before uncovering the still warm dishes, scooping some onto his and Kita’s plate. As he scooped the rice onto Kita’s he caught his eyes, silently conversing as Kita filled his glass in return. When Osamu reached for his plate, Atsumu jerked it away from the outstretched hand. Osamu met his eye, dropping the spoon full of hot rice back into the bowl. “Come on, Atsumu. Aren’t you hungry?”
“Yeah I am, ‘cos you took so long to show up to your own dinner,” Atsumu sniffed, keeping the dish retracted, holding Osamu’s stare. His twin knew the jig was up, but he still stubbornly stayed silent. If Kita could read the conversation they were having he said nothing, reaching over to fill Atsumu’s already half full glass before mumbling a longer prayer than Osamu’s and digging in to the meal that probably came from his own farm.
Atsumu felt his eye twitch.
Osamu let out a sigh, knowing what would happen next. “Osamu,” Atsumu scowled, placing his plate back down on the mat, “why didn’t you tell me?”
Osamu glanced at Kita who was already watching him as he chewed his food thoroughly. Osamu’s eyes softened slightly in return. Atsumu’s scowl deepened looking between the two. Just as he was about to make a -most likely childish- remark, Kita cut through the tension. “We should eat first, before we continue this conversation.” He reasoned. Osamu nodded in agreement, shooting his brother a look.
Atsumu scowled down at his bowl as Osamu leaned forward and filled it, adding extra sauce over the top as he went. The dinner dragged on; only small remarks prompted by Kita leaving either twin. Osamu kept glancing over at Atsumu between snippets of conversation with Kita, offering juice and drink and getting rejected for both. Atsumu stuck to his water and sat back after one serving to watch the other two talk. Osamu picked at parts of all the dishes, complimenting Kita for each, and making sure to take multiple servings as he went. Kita kept trying to add Atsumu into the conversation, but Atsumu stubbornly kept acting solely as a judgmental observer.
Even as he saw it happen in front of him, he was in disbelief. It was clear once he saw Osamu what was going on. With every careful spoonful and compliment, soft nudge, or the casual way they were quick to fill each other’s plate or glass, Atsumu felt his brows furrow deeper.
If Kiyoomi could see the pout forming on Atsumu’s face he’d scold him and tell him to be mature, but Kiyoomi wasn’t here so Atsumu slouched in on himself, eyes piercing as he nursed his glass of water and stared out at the couple in front of him.
“’Tsumu,” Osamu called out, resting his chopsticks, “Sakusa played really well tonight huh?” Osamu asked after both of his and Kita’s plates were cleared, talking a sip of Kita’s favourite beer as he looked Atsumu in the eye. Atsumu flicked the hair out of his face irritably, eyes squinting, “Of course he did.” Atsumu said scowling, before rising to start stacking the dishes. In silence, he walked over to the sink and deposited the dishes, ignoring the washing gloves in favour of wrapping up the leftovers. Osamu watched him packaging the leftovers roughly with plastic wrapping as he brought in the last of the dishes. “Shin, can you wash the dishes please?” Osamu asked, glancing over at Kita with an apologetic smile. Kita smiled softly in return and Atsumu huffed as he shoved the rest of the food in the fridge, purposely disregarding Osamu’s neat fridge system.
“Of course,” Kita said, pulling out a different pair of gloves from under the drawer. Atsumu scowled at the sight. Osamu sighed at the silent question, before tipping his head to the living room and walking out.
Atsumu snorted before following, sending one glance back to Kita who shot him a smile as he left. As Atsumu entered the quiet living room he could feel the swarm of emotions that had filled him throughout dinner slowly shift to anger.
Osamu leaned against the arm of the sofa and Atsumu stood in front of him in the centre of the room, staring him down. “Samu! What the hell?” Atsumu cried out, arms raised up in dramatic exclamation.
Osamu sighed, watching his brother steadily, but Atsumu could read his hooded eyes well enough. The way he was slouching, leaned back, with his eyes more guarded than usual painted an easy picture. Osamu wasn’t just nervous, he was worried. Osamu flicked his eyes out to the window, where the sky was pitch black and the storm howled on. Atsumu watched stumped, as Osamu let out another quiet sigh before glancing back at the open kitchen door.
He didn’t even try to quiet Atsumu during his outburst, glancing up to catch his eyes before replying. “We just... started talking again last year at that reunion, then we kept talking over the phone.” He explained, “I went to visit this last summer, he started visiting me since august. I didn’t know he was coming this week, but he arrived yesterday-and I wasn’t hiding him.” Osamu scowled at that, eyes flashing, before continuing, “So it’s only been nine months, and no I did not have to tell you. And,” Osamu straightened up from where he was slouched, meeting Atsumu’s eyes as he continued quietly, “I don’t know what happened for you to suddenly not like Kita of all people, but you need to calm down.”
Atsumu scowled, crossing his arms across his chest, annoyed at how Osamu had answered all his questions so succinctly. “Well,” he scowled past gritted teeth, “I don’t care how long it’s been, I’m yer brother- and I’m annoyed at you, not him.”
Osamu snorted, crossing his arms over his chest in clear mockery. Atsumu glanced towards the kitchen where Kita was scrubbing a glass diligently, occasionally holding it up to the warm kitchen light for inspection. A lingering nostalgic warmth settled in him at the sight. He huffed and brushed passed Osamu to sit on the couch. Osamu followed track and they slumped back together, staring at the black tv screen opposite. Atsumu nudged him with a shoulder, eyes trained ahead, “You should have told me.” He scolded; body tensed waiting for Osamu to nudge him back.
“I was going to,” Osamu said, shoving him roughly. Atsumu felt smug at the way his body didn’t budge; his chef brother didn’t have the same muscle mass he used to. “But it was never the right time, and to be honest,” Osamu leaned further back into the couch, “I was expecting him to drop me sooner rather than later. By the time I realised this was going to last, and that I wanted it to,” Osamu chuckled, “It was already eight months, and I knew how you’d overreact.”
Atsumu scoffed, ignoring the dig, glancing over at his brother. “I can’t believe you’re dating our old high school captain ‘Samu.” He scrunched his nose, “I can just sense some weird power play in this- “
Osamu shoved a pillow in his face angrily, rising off the sofa to push a suffocating Atsumu into the couch. Harsh laughter filtered through his gasping breaths as Atsumu wrestled back control, swinging a leg under Osamu before yanking him onto the sofa and quickly reversing their position. With a sharp laugh Atsumu pushed the pillow into Osamu’s face as he yelled out curses passionately. “You’re not as strong as you used to be ‘Samu,” Atsumu mocked as he chuckled, “In fact, I’d say you’re getting quite chubby-”
With a yelp, Atsumu was pulled down by his hair, until Osamu had an arm around his neck. Atsumu quickly tapped out, still breathless from laughing as Osamu threatened, “I’ll individually snap all of your fingers.”
As Osamu released him Atsumu chuckled gruffly, falling back against the couch as Osamu leaned against the couch arm, watching Atsumu warily from the short distance. After sitting in silence for a while, Atsumu slapped him on the back before gripping his shoulders, face falling into a solemn stare. “I’m happy for you ‘Samu.”
Osamu nodded gruffly, not replying before slapping Atsumu hard on the back and getting up off the couch. Atsumu laughed gruffly at his emotionally stunted brother, before following him as he went back into the kitchen. The rain had slowed to a patter as the evening had continued and in the silence of the warm kitchen, the windows glittered from the refracted streetlight. Atsumu stared out at the reflections in the window as Osamu walked up to Kita, resting a careful hand against his shoulder as they spoke. Kita leaned into him, gloved hands resting calmly on the edge of the sink as he chuckled at what Osamu said. An owl flew past the window as Osamu smiled in reply, hand slinking off Kita’s shoulder as he pulled off his gloves for him. Kita took the gloves out of Osamu’s hands and leaned against the sink, Osamu leaning into him as they spoke in hushed tones.
Atsumu looked away from their reflection in the window as his phone buzzed in his pocket. Distracted by Kiyoomi’s texts, he was brought out of the conversation as Osamu called out to him from the kitchen door. Atsumu hadn’t realised they had cleared out the rest of the kitchen whilst he was typing. “We’re going to watch a documentary if you’re going to stick around.”
Atsumu grimaced, rising from his chair, he didn’t know what that was exactly code for, but he wasn’t going to stick around to find out. “No thank you,” he said, face pulled into a grimace. Osamu whacked him upside the head as he went passed, Atsumu ducking too late to avoid it. Kita looked up from the couch, catching Atsumu’s eyes. “Please stay if you wish, Atsumu.” Kita welcomed. Atsumu struggled to not show his discomfort at the way Kita was so casual to invite him to stay around in his own brothers’ home. Osamu frowned at his response, and Atsumu winced, shooting his brother a reassuring stare before waving off Kita’s offer. “It’s okay Kita-san,” Osamu pinched him at the honorific, and Atsumu continued, smiling blandly, “I’ll leave you two to catch up, I see ‘Samu every other day anyway.”
With an awkward laugh he turned to his brother, his brows twinged downward, face otherwise stoic. Atsumu shrugged minutely, Osamu couldn’t ask for miracles. It would take Atsumu some time. Osamu rolled his eyes, ushering him towards the door as he went. “Get out,” he muttered half-jokingly, grabbing an umbrella for him as they headed downstairs. Atsumu slipped on his shoes and grabbed his bag, juggling his phone and the umbrella before pocketing the device. With a rough hug he bid Osamu goodbye and headed out. With the now lighter storm and Osamu’s umbrella, Atsumu walked home, still swathed in the warmth of his brothers’ apartment.