Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Atsumu Miya is both a blatant perfectionist and a passionate lover.

The former usually relates to Atsumu as a volleyball player. On the court he’s a perfect picture of confidence and seriousness. If there’s one thing you’ve realised over the years is that he has ridiculously high expectations for himself (and his teammates). Although, sometimes that can veer into a bad direction. Rattled even more by a strong hatred of losing.

The latter refers to Atsumu off the court; more specifically, when he’s with you. He always makes sure to rush to you after every game, carry you up in his arms and spin you around; to show you off just the way you like. If he loses, you’re his first go-to once everything ends. He loves hugging you tight, inhaling deeply as the scent of the shampoo lingering in your hair fills his nostrils. And to everyone around you, the two of you are the “it” couple — the one everyone is envious of.

But that’s not the case. Not really.

Because beneath his actions lies a different meaning. Atsumu loves you. He really does. But just never as much as you love him, and probably not in the way he wishes it to be. How can he not love you? All you’ve ever done is try to better his life, even if that meant at the expense of your own. He loves that you’re so genuine; so earnest. You only want the best for him, and he can tell it’s real. But something’s bugging him. It always has.

And you know it, too.

You notice it, even in the small instances. And today, you’re finally about to find out why.

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You fumble for the keys to your shared apartment, several shopping bags in tow. You’ve spent the past hour in the shopping mall nearby browsing for decorative material to adorn your shared bedroom with.

It’s Atsumu’s birthday and you planned for him to get back home after training to a fully-decorated bedroom, filled with balloons and flower petals on the bed; maybe have a little steamy session before you both shower together and get ready for dinner at the restaurant you’ve handpicked with Osamu’s help. (It has the best fatty tuna in the city and you know how much he loves a good fatty tuna.)

You have the whole day planned out, all nice and neat in your day planner. You thumb over the page once more after setting the decorations down on the coffee table.

Yep, everything seems good. It should all go by without a hitch.

Atsumu has training, so you estimate he’d be back around 5pm. Which means you have a whole seven hours to yourself, just to get everything here all nice and pretty. You even printed out several photos of you two together, just to make an explosion box for him. He’d seen it online a couple of times, and you noted how he said it’d be cool to have one of those. Well now, you’re going to make one for him.

The next two hours are spent on breakfast and making the base of the box, before you decide to take a break by decorating the room. Just the balloons and the rose petals, easy peasy, you think to yourself, bringing them in and visualising just how to arrange them.

So you spend the next half hour tiptoeing on the bed, trying to tie photos onto each helium balloon, the sounds of the bed frame creaking drowned out by the obnoxiously loud music blasting over the bluetooth speakers. Once that part of the decorating is done, you settle yourself on the floor, attempting to start on the explosion box. But your clumsy fingers let slip of one of the photos, letting it fly under the bed frame.

You groan at your own clumsiness. But it was a blessing in disguise, because that’s how you find out that there’s a certain section of the bedframe that’s hollow. You knock against it just to confirm; and the sound asserts it. You tug on it a little harder and remove part of the frame, revealing a small section of space, occupied by just a smaller article: a red box.

Brows furrowed and curiosity piqued, you grab it. It must be Atsumu’s. And even though you know you shouldn’t, you can’t help yourself. He’s been acting so weird lately that it’s getting harder to shake off. Maybe whatever’s in here is the reason. You half-hope for it to be some sort of present for you, some big surprise. But the other logical half of you is snickering at yourself.

How can you be so pathetically hopeful?

Turns out that voice is right. Because inside the box is a collection of letters, with an all-too-familiar name on each one, written in his handwriting. It’s all made out to one person.

And that person isn’t you.

But you recognise the name, how can you not? It’s Atsumu’s ex-girlfriend, the one he tried so hard to get over (did he even really get over her?), the one he dated before you. She’s beautiful too, you’ve seen her a few times. And despite knowing you shouldn’t, you grab at the earliest one (thankfully he dated each one). To your dismay, it was after you guys got together.

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✎ she bought me those jeans, the ones you like
❝Hey, you changed your number didn’t you? I dunno what your new one is. I would ask… but I think you changed it for a reason, right?

Do you still remember us? ‘Cause I do. Sometimes when I’m on a date I catch myself slippin’, catch myself almost calling her ‘princess’. I can’t call her that. You told me never to call anyone but you that. And I know we ain’t together anymore, but I can’t help it.

I’m only here now ‘cause… I hate how you two are so alike. Remember those jeans you said would look so damn good on me? She got it for me as a present. I didn’t even tell her I wanted it. She just… happened to. And it’s not like you fuckin’ care or anything… but I can’t bring myself to wear ‘em. If I do I’ll just keep thinking of you. And when I think of you…❞

He must’ve ended it there. You don’t see anything else written after that.

You swallow the lump in your throat. You always wondered why your boyfriend didn’t want to wear your gift. His reasons were that he wanted to save it for a special occasion. You scoff, remembering how he didn’t wear it even during your birthday a few months ago.

Now you know why.

Lips quivering and fingers trembling, you slowly make your way to the shared closet, socks silent against the hardwood floors. You know exactly where he stashes your gift; on the floor against the corner of the cupboard. You take it out, vacant eyes eyeing it from top to bottom. Atsumu would look really good in those. You — and her — are right.

Guess you are pretty alike. In one sense, or two now. Frustrated, you fling it onto the mattress before grabbing at the next letter.

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✎ i don’t want a hug, i just wanna sleep
the smell of your hair reminds me of her feet
❝I hate that you’re stuck in my fucking head. I can’t even go back to bed because I’ll feel so guilty, you know that? Every time we sleep together I feel so guilty. She loves to cuddle. And I don’t mind it, really, I love cuddling her, she’s so cute in my arms, you know? But I fucking ruin it with my stupid thoughts.

Every time I cuddle with her I just can’t get over the fact that her hair feels so different against my skin. I can’t get over the fact that her breathing and yours don’t fit the same rhythm. I can’t get over the fact that the shampoo doesn’t smell the same, or the way her hand feels round my waist just ain’t right. I hate how it’s not… you.

This must be why you called me a horrible person, huh?❞

The tears are already escaping the corners of your eyes, creating tracks down your cheeks. Is that why you were never in his arms for long? You could always feel when he slowly pulled away, trying his best not to wake you. But he always failed. You’re a fairly light sleeper. You tried asking if he didn’t like cuddling more than on one occasion, but he was adamant he liked it.

Just not with you.

Now you know.

Even when you are nothing like her, he can only seem to think of her.

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✎ don’t wait outside my hotel room, just wait ’til i give you a sign, ‘cause i get lonesome sometimes
❝Okay okay, I got a confession to make. I can’t keep this in. And the only person I really wanna talk to ‘bout this is you. But y’know… Anyway!

So, my confession: I fucked her the same night we broke up. I was just so pissed and I wanted to forget and… she’s always been there for me, you know? She’s so beautiful, and always had my back, been the perfect friend. She’s one of my best friends, actually… but we crossed a line that night… and I just couldn’t bring myself to step back.

I knew she kinda had a thing for me, and maybe I was just being a dick, maybe I was justifying it in my head as ‘when one door closes another one opens’. Thing is, you may have walked away, but I sure as hell didn’t close that door. And I know you probably ain’t ever gonna walk back, so why do I find myself waiting?

No matter how perfect she is, how amazingly talented I find her… why do I feel something missing? When I feel the need to back away, she just somehow goes and makes me feel so happy in the moment that I just can’t. I know what you’d say if you saw this right now: pathetic. Right?❞

The more you read the more you feel like a hurricane has plowed through your heart. The destruction is absolute, your entire being tattered and torn apart. And now maybe you see why some people are addicted to the pain.

Curiosity.

You know the more you see the more you’ll hurt, but your fingers reach for the next letter anyway.

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✎ save all the jokes you’re gonna make while i see how much drink i can take, then be my mistake
❝Fuck, I screwed up tonight. Fuck.

We were just drinking, It was all fine, she was cracking jokes and I was just playing along, the usual. Until I had one too many. And then I don’t know, I started to remember the first night we drank together… The first night we slept together. And when I looked over at her and it wasn’t you I just… Plus, ‘Samu was talkin’ bout you the other day, saying you’re still good and all that shit. Why'd you even make friends with my brother, huh? Do you think of me when you look at him, though?

God, I’m just a fucking asshole. She’s so fucking perfect to me! So why the fuck aren’t you out of my head yet? Why is it when I woke up earlier with her next to me the first thing I think of is that I wanna talk to you?❞

You remember that night, so clearly. The two of you were drinking your troubles away together when Atsumu’s loving gaze turned into a deathly glare, enough to send shivers down your spine. In all honesty you were wondering if he was going to hit you. Though you have no idea why. Maybe you did something wrong? Even though you knew you didn’t. That was how scary he looked. But he ended up just slamming the mug back down on the table before retreating into the room and banging the door shut.

A few hours later, after you’ve collected yourself and were all cried out, you forced yourself to step into the room, possibly to talk it through with him, seeing how afraid you were earlier. You called out his name in the dark only to find him already curled up on the bed, stirring a little upon hearing you.

You had meekly climbed in next to him and found yourself relieved when he shifted his body to embrace you. Sure, you were happy in the moment, thinking he was just frustrated at something else altogether. But now you see, he was frustrated at you. For not being her.

So that’s why he was so persistent about cutting down on his drinking the next day. He had claimed it was for you — and to be fair, he wasn’t completely lying. If he ever told you everything that was on his mind, he was bound to hurt your feelings. And up ’til now, he’d never done that. Because he kept all his frustrations inside, away from you.

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✎ i shouldn’t have called, ‘cause we shouldn’t speak
❝It was you, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I dunno what came over me, really. ‘Samu just went to the toilet for a minute and I just… I knew if I didn’t sneak your number I wouldn’t get another chance. So… you listened to me, didn’t you? God, just hearing you say hello was… nice.

I know you didn’t even speak after that but hey, at least you heard me, right? I just hope you didn’t mute me and leave your phone there… I know you wouldn’t. Even though it was just me reminding you to take care of yourself, I hope you listen to me. I hope you do that. Because if I’m being totally honest, we weren’t perfect together, and it is far from the peace I have in my current relationship but… if you didn’t break up with me, no way in hell would I have let go of you.

Not a chance.❞

Is it possible for you to feel even more dejected? The tears have stopped, because you’re all cried out now. Lucky for that, because there’s one last letter you have yet to read. The one dated yesterday, on the eve of his birthday.

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✎ you do make me hard, but she makes me weak
❝This is the right thing to do, right? To stay with her and make her happy? I know you’d probably question whether I love her at this point. Thing is, I know the answer.

I do love her.

What I don’t know is… in what way. Or maybe I do know and that I’m in denial. Whatever. But we make each other happy, that must be enough… right?

I just don’t know why you’re the one I can’t stop thinkin’ about. I’m tired, so tired.❞

His last paragraph confuses you, but taking into account everything you just read? There is one thing you do know: this relationship has hit a dead end. Or maybe it wasn’t even a relationship to begin with. Not with him thinking of his ex all the time. Whether or not you remind him of her, she’s always running through his mind, never leaving. And the worst thing is, there’s no one for you to blame, no tangible thing to take your anger out on.

Just the realisation that life is unfair.

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You glance at the presents and decorations you got for him today for his birthday. You thought of all your plans for tonight. No way any of that is happening now.

Such a waste.

Not only did you have to take them all back, but now you’d have to think of how to move out of here before Atsumu comes back.

You frantically dial a number into your phone. You’d definitely need help with all of this. But also because, maybe, you could afford to give Atsumu one more chance.

This would be the last shot.

“Osamu, could you help me with something?”

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Atsumu reaches home to find the house completely empty. And not the normal kind of empty. It’s almost completely barren save for his own belongings.

Your shoes that used to scatter around the shoe cabinet are gone. The mirror you brought over from your own apartment had been removed, so is the nail on the wall that had been used to hang it up. He gulps, because he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on.

An uneasy feeling washes over him, and he rushes to the bedroom. He throws open the cabinet, and he feels his heart sinking. Your half of it is completely empty. His eyes widen for a split second when he thinks of the stash of letters he’s kept hidden under the bed. But when he turns around, the wooden board is in place. When he checks inside, the box is exactly where he left it the last time he put it back.

Everything is where it should be. Except for you.

The last he’s heard from you is this morning, when you had texted him about your excitement for tonight. So why is all your stuff gone? Not even a text from you. Atsumu sits on the edge of the bed, head between his hands, trying to fathom just what spurred you to move out. That’s what it is, isn’t it? How else can he explain why all your stuff is gone?

No, wait, that shouldn’t be what he should think about now, right? No, now he should call you and… apologise? Yes, he should. He probably did something wrong without realising, right? Yes, yes, because he can be an absolute blockhead sometimes. That must be it, that must be —

The text tone from his phone snaps him out of his thoughts.

He rushes out to the corridor where he had placed his phone down in a hurry. When he sees your name light up his screen he heaves a sigh of relief. And he gets even more relieved when he actually reads your text.

Meet me at the park at 7pm, okay? And… you promised me you’d wear your jeans for a special occasion, right? Can you please wear it tonight, babe?

Atsumu hesitates, but he doesn’t want to risk saying anything wrong, so he hurriedly types a reply.

Of course, anything you want, babe. See you later, I'm so excited.

It takes everything in him not to ask about your belongings. Maybe you had an unexpected surprise in store. Atsumu knows you. If you were angry, you wouldn’t even bother talking. You’d take time off to yourself. At least he knows he doesn’t have to worry about what he’s done.

Two hours later he finds himself clad up nicely, hair done neatly, heart drumming in his ears as he looks around in the dark of the night. He hasn’t heard from you since you asked to meet him here. He’s beginning to think maybe you stood him up when his phone vibrates.

A text from you.

In the middle, near the fountain.

Atsumu averts his gaze toward the direction, and he sees a figure moving about, looking uneasy. It’s definitely you, he thinks to himself as he moves closer. You sound different today though, and it’s putting him on edge. Is he supposed to expect an earful from you?

But when the light hits the figure, he stops in his tracks.

“Atsumu?”

There, standing just a few feet in front of him, is the love of his life. But why —

His phone vibrates.

Happy birthday, ‘Tsumu. I love you.

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A half hour later you’re in Onigiri Miya, with your now ex-boyfriend’s twin brother serving you up a full meal. You force a smile, thanking him for his hospitality. After all, you needed some place to stay after so hastily moving out of your shared apartment with Atsumu. Osamu had offered, and as much as you didn’t want to impose on him, you really were in no position to refuse. Where else were you going to go? Nobody from your family lives in town and you’re honestly too tired to go around knocking on your friends’ doors and asking if they didn’t mind giving you shelter for an indefinite period of time.

You’re chomping down a mouthful of rice when you hear Osamu sighing, and as you flick your gaze up you catch his exasperated expression. And a roll of his eyes.

“If there’s something you wanna say, say it,” you say through a mouthful of food. You don’t care how un-ladylike you look now. You’re too upset to care about something as trivial as that.

“Stupid.”

You nearly choke on your food. You weren’t expecting that, besides, he was usually more affectionate with you. But before you can offer any retort, he clears his throat and continues.

“Who finds out that their boyfriend is still in love with his ex and then choose to set them up and even offer them your entire birthday plan?” You don’t miss the disapproval in his tone. “Besides, how would ya even know that they’d even be happy this time around?”

Hesitantly, you pull out your phone and wave it at his face. A picture of Atsumu with the love of his life fills the screen, captioned with ‘honestly don’t think I could be any happier’.

Osamu sighs, giving in. He knows chiding you about it wouldn’t do any good right now anyway.

Instead, he settles for just a “yer amazing, ya know that?”

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes at his sarcasm as your gaze falls upon the food cooked by the man himself, but mind elsewhere.

Except it wasn’t sarcasm. And just as you missed all of the cues that pointed to Atsumu still being infatuated with someone else, you miss the hint of love in Osamu’s eyes as he gazes down at you, wondering when, if ever, you’ll feel for him the way you feel for his brother.

Chapter Text

Osamu Miya was always used to being in his brother’s shadow, as far as it came to volleyball.

An inferiority complex borne of the fact that Atsumu was always considered the better one, because after all, who is he to compete with the ‘top setter in Japan’? He’d learnt to be okay with it, to not let it bother him as much. Until he got to know you—you, who was writing up a piece for the school paper about the boys’ volleyball team. You, who had stars in your eyes whenever you saw Atsumu in action. You, who he couldn’t help but notice didn’t get the same reaction when it was Osamu who touched the ball. But he’s always known you were an inherently kind soul, right from the first moment you made sure to compliment them both, even though you were clearly more interested in Atsumu.

Everyone always was.

And he didn’t know why, maybe it was because of the warmth—the good energy—that you radiated, or maybe Atsumu just found you pleasing to the eyes (Osamu knows he himself sure thinks so), but that spurred Atsumu to make friends with you. It helped that you were very welcoming to Osamu too, because that’s how he managed to get close to you; sometimes hang out with you and just you alone.

He remembers the first time the two of you hung out, and each and every time after that. He remembers those local coffee shops that stole endless hours of conversation, when Osamu got the rare glimpses of the mind that he learned to grow fond of. He remembers the way you bite your lip when you concentrate enough, the way you smile when you blush, the way you tap your fingers one at a time against the tabletop when you get slightly impatient, even the way you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear when you get nervous.

Osamu realised then, that he viewed you differently than he viewed others. He didn’t usually waste time observing people’s habits off the court, but how was it that he was able to memorise all of yours right off the bat? It felt so effortless, and he realised it’s too late to stop—because he was already falling.

Had he already fallen in too deep? Because whenever he thought of you he realised there’s one thing he craved: touch. More specifically, yours.

Why was it that he remembered every single moment of you walking beside him, remembered thinking maybe he should walk just that little bit closer, that maybe it might signify him getting closer to you in some way. Would you think he was weird if he did that?

Osamu caught himself overthinking things he would otherwise not give a damn about, only when it came to you. Would his little movements make you think he had a crush on you? Because he did, and still does. But you seemed not to bother too much about him as compared to his brother, would you even notice? Or would you just brush it off as nothing?

Naturally, Osamu also remembers all the missed chances. He remembers his hands—damp, clammy, cold—as you walked together. He remembers how your knuckles brushed against his as you walked beside him, and how he felt the ghost of them for a half hour after that. A whole half hour. He wished it could’ve been longer. (He also had the ridiculous thought of ‘is this why people say they don’t want to wash their hands after shaking them with a celebrity’s?’)

He replayed the memory over and over again in his head, wishing that it’d repeat. But it was never good enough, because all he thinks of every time he sees you is what it would feel like to intertwine his fingers in yours, to grab them and pull them against his chest, let you feel how erratic his heartbeats get when it came to you.

Why did you have so much control over him? He liked to act like you don’t, but you did. And it hurt how he knew you were so perceptive and yet you never noticed him. How could you, when you were so fixated on his twin instead?

You even got Osamu to mirror your habits, how he was supposed to be at a lunch (date, he added to himself) one day with you, alone, but Atsumu just had to butt in, had to ask if there was room for one more. That was how Osamu found out he’d started to click his fingers against the tabletop one by one, just like you do when you’re impatient. He watched as your arms brush against Atsumu’s, looked at the two of you being so close you could pass off as boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Hey, would ya stop that? It’s pretty irritating, ya know?”

Osamu didn’t even get fazed by his brother’s comment. He rolled his eyes and let a “whatever” roll off his tongue. That just meant Atsumu found your habit irritating too.

He doesn’t deserve your love, he thought, as he watched you lean into Atsumu’s shoulder as you laughed at whatever lame joke his brother must’ve said. It’d been a while since Osamu felt this way—so inferior, so bothered, so worthless in the presence of his brother. Was he really that much of a step down? Was that why you didn’t notice him as much?

Osamu hated himself for being so childish, for thinking of getting together with a girl who had confessed to him just because he wanted to see if you would get jealous. He was deep in thought about that one day when you asked if he needed any advice. He had blurted out the reason why he was hesitating on accepting her confession, save for the fact that you were the girl he was actually pining for.

“Don’t be with someone when you don’t love them, ‘Samu,” you chided, brows furrowed disapprovingly. “You know you’re only gonna hurt her more in the end when it fails, right?”

He’s a little bit stubborn sometimes. “What if I made it work, what then?”

You flicked his forehead, and he thought it was the closest to your affection he’d gotten thus far. “Is it really ‘working’ when you don’t love her? You both could be happier if you’d just confess to the girl you really like, and she could be better off finding a guy who really loves her, no?”

He hated the way you made so much sense sometimes. And even more, he hated the way he got his answer: you weren’t jealous in the least. He could just tell. Because later that night, he remembered the disappointment that flashed across your features when Atsumu came waltzing into dinner with a girl in tow, his arm round her waist and planting a peck on her lips before helping her settle down beside you. As though seeing him dating someone else wasn’t bad enough, he had invited her to dinner with no warning whatsoever. On top of that, you’re trying to hide your distress by being all-smiles next to her, warmly welcoming her into the group.

But Osamu saw you. Saw the tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes. Maybe that’s why he decided to act all stupid and put his chopsticks in his mouth and pretending to be a walrus. Even Atsumu was weirded out, because since when does his brother ever do shit like this? Osamu didn’t care though, because all that mattered to him in that moment was your laughter filling his ears. It was so infectious, Osamu found himself laughing with you, too.

When his brother parted from the two of you that night, Osamu remembered just pulling you into a hug, and you immediately came undone against his chest. He didn’t care you were leaving tear stains on his favourite hoodie. Osamu felt his heart falling alongside yours. What’s worse than seeing you falling for his brother was seeing you break apart because of him.

“Is it stupid for me to be in love with someone who’s already taken?”

I’m in love with you and my brother’s already taken your heart, so…

“Of course not, you’re perfectly fine the way you are. I think it’s beautiful that you can love someone like my brother anyway.”

Swallow your feelings, ‘Samu. Don’t you fucking dare turn this into something about yourself.

You forced a giggle into his chest, diluting your sniffling. “I think whoever you end up with is gonna be so lucky, ‘Samu, you’re always so amazing to me, you know?”

That’s why I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes for you to realise I only want you, even if you may never want me.

“Flattery gets you nowhere, little lady.”

He knew what you needed. A friend, someone to just be there for you, to make you feel safe. And that was what he did. He figured that if he loved you, he’d do so in the way you needed it. He’d like nothing more than to be able to tell you all of this—that he loved you, that he has loved you for a while now—it took everything not to let it slip off his tongue, it took everything he had to swallow his feelings.

Despite that, his love for you was never more apparent than it was in that moment.

It’s funny though, life had a way of kicking him down when he’s up.

You accompanied all his highs, especially when you were starting to get over Atsumu dating that girl, slowly easing your way back into normalcy as his best friend, and Osamu’s. Over the past few months you’ve been leaning on him more than usual, hanging out with him, watching movies, even learning some cooking from him (to which Osamu was already imagining domesticity with you would be a blast). Besides, he could see how his brother was around the other girl—so in love. He probably didn’t have to worry about Atsumu coming back to sweep you off your feet.

Until he did.

Everything can happen in an instant. And he came to know about it from your text one night, at 2am.

I think I did something wrong.

Osamu remembers how anxious he was when he woke up to the vibration and realised what you were saying.

What did you do?

His heart fell when your reply came in.

… Atsumu.

It got even worse the next day when Atsumu waltzed into lunch, this time with you in his arms. Now it was you that he was pecking on the lips. It took everything in Osamu not to blurt out that his brother wasn’t in love with you, that he was possibly just using you to get over that stupid ex-girlfriend of his. But he couldn’t. Because there wasn’t a strong base in his claims, all it was was a possibility. And even if it was true, Atsumu sure as hell wouldn’t tell him. So all he did was bite his tongue and faked a smile. A smile so plastic he wish you’d seen through it.

But you didn’t.

Because your vision was filled to the brim with his brother, too busy to notice the one who’s really in love with you, the one whose heart was now pummelled into the ground as he watched his brother making out with you right in front of him. Now he felt like he was back to square one all over again, now his weekends would only be him all alone again, without you. It was weird, not having you with him, cooking beside him and making a mess of his kitchen. But every time he thought back to the smile on your face when you looked at Atsumu, as much as his heart breaks at that, he found he couldn’t wish ill upon your relationship. Because if it made you happy, that’s all he wanted.

As long as Atsumu managed to put that genuine, brilliant smile on your face each day just by being with you, Osamu promised himself he wouldn’t interfere with anything, vowed to always be in your corner, to help resolve any arguments the two of you might have, no trying to steal you away—because that’s how you much you loved Atsumu too. The least Osamu figured is that he could give you the love you deserved, even if you couldn’t see it.

Know the phrase ‘every cloud has a silver lining’? Yeah, that’s for you, when you moved out of the shared apartment you and Atsumu shared that day.

Osamu spent the day helping you pack all your stuff into luggages and boxes. He didn’t pry unnecessarily, you briefly telling him about what you read on the letters was enough for him to get the gist of everything. Honestly, all he thought of doing in that moment was finding Atsumu and giving him a good punch in the face. But you probably wouldn’t like that, so he held in the anger. For you.

And of course he was a little glad that you found out before you got in too deep, but his heart ached for you, because in the silence, while the both of you were packing, he knew you were just trying your hardest not to crack. He decided to leave you be, didn’t want to force anything on you. He would just be there to help you any way that you ask.

In all honesty he expected you to lash out, expected you to show anger. Yet all that came out of your lips when you were in his car was “I wanna give him one last shot.”

“At what?”

“At the happy ending he wants.”

He stayed silent after that, just passing his phone over to you, opened to Atsumu’s girlfriend’s contact info. He got it when she contacted him one day, to meet up with him, saying she wanted to be friends but really just wanted to ask how Atsumu was. Guess she was still hung up on him, too. In that moment, he thought you were being so selfless and stubborn and stupid (because how could you be thinking of him, still, and what makes him happy instead of thinking about yourself). But above all, he thought you’re just absolutely beautiful, through and through.

If this was what you wanted, he’d help you no matter what. He promised himself, after all, to always take your side, never make you feel alone. He’ll follow through on it.

 

 

[IN THE PRESENT] LATER THAT NIGHT.

“You're amazing, ya know that?”

“Whatever.”

Osamu gazes down at you as you poke on your food with your fork, glassy eyes undoubtedly a sign that you’re thinking of his brother. But he doesn’t mind, he already knows, already told himself before that he’ll wait for you as long as it takes. He’s unable to suppress the soft smile that always graces his features whenever he thinks about you. All he can think of right now is what a dream come true it would be, if he could be at the receiving end of your love. He’d treat you better than his brother did, that’s for sure.

Minutes later when you’re walking back to his house (where you’ll be staying for now), Osamu can’t help but notice how your knuckles are brushing against his again, and he wonders how long he’ll feel them there this time. He can’t bring himself to hold your hand, though. It’s way too early for that. You’re still heartbroken, and he doesn’t want to be just a rebound. He loves you very much, after all. So he brings his hands into his pockets in an attempt to control himself.

You’re almost at his apartment when you tell him you need to take a walk alone to clear your head. You’re about to walk away when all of a sudden Osamu’s taking his top off, leaving you wide-eyed and trying not to keep your gaze hovered on his toned abs. He flings his hoodie at you.

“I don’t want you to freeze out there,” is all he says as he gestures to your sleeveless top. “Call me if you run into any perverts, I’ll stuff some of my onigiri up their ass.”

That manages to get you laughing, and Osamu smirks, inwardly celebrating his success. And seeing you don his hoodie? He’s glad you can’t see how fast his heart is pounding. What he’d give to see you wake up in his shirt everyday. As if you aren’t beautiful enough already. How is this fair?

And while you take your walk, he takes it upon himself to help move your things into the guest room, even digging out some old scented candles he’s never used, just for you to feel more comfortable in there. He switches the guest room pillows for his own ones (because they’re more fluffy and he knows how much you would just love the softness of it), even draws up a bath for you to relax in. He gets out a fluffy bath towel for you and places it nicely down on your bed, thinking if everything he’s done so far is enough, when all of a sudden the lights go out.

The realisation that nothing he does for you he will ever deem enough comes when he turns around and spots you in the doorway, a small heart-shaped cake in your hands with a single candle on it, still looking so beautiful wearing his hoodie and your smile so bright, like fireworks in the velvet dark.

“Happy birthday, ‘Samu.”

You ask him to make a wish as he draws closer to you, and despite wishing for you countless nights in succession, he finds that words escape him. Because he thinks, in this moment, everything is perfect. He blows the candles out, and you giggle, giving him a peck on the cheek before skipping back out into the kitchen to cut the cake (he can hear you rummaging through the drawers already).

This time, he feels the ghost of your lips on his cheek for the entire night, even as he tosses and turns in bed. What a very happy birthday indeed.

Getting over Atsumu proves harder than Osamu thought, though. He can see that you’re still so affected by it. He knows you probably stalk his socials at night, see what else he and his current girlfriend are now up to. To be fair, so does Osamu. He notices how his brother’s making more time for this girl, bringing her on dates to places that you told him you wanted to go to. (Your mouth slipped once, and Osamu caught it.) Your best friend knows it too, because even though Osamu doesn’t know her personally, he can tell just from the way she leaves replies on Atsumu’s posts.

On a picture of them out on a date at the amusement park you’ve always wanted to visit with him, with their silhouettes as the centre of attention and closely huddled together, facing each other, Osamu finds himself amused by your friend’s (@aomineavenue’s) comment.

@atsumumiya: even when i’m away from you, you’re all i can think about
@aomineavenue: funny, me too. every time i go out there’s so many things that remind me of you two, you know? like bird shit and trash cans.
   @miyaosa likes this

And on another picture of them:

@atsumumiya: you take my breath away
@aomineavenue: you two take my breath away too.
@aomineavenue: oh wait, sorry i got it wrong. i’m just suffocating on your bullshit.

He would like to stuff onigiri up his brother’s ass for sure, after all he’s done. He knows he’s not doing this on purpose to hurt you, but he’s still hurting you, and Osamu wishes he can protect you from it. But he can’t force you to stop stalking him, to block him. He doesn’t want to. It’s part of the grieving process after all, isn’t it?

What he can do is be there for you, while you hurt, and even when you aren’t.

But it’s difficult, because he reminds you of your brother, doesn’t he? He can tell. He notices every time your gaze falls when you’re just short of looking him in the eyes. Osamu doesn’t realise until now that Atsumu’s hurt you so much it pains you to even look at anything that reminds you of him, including his twin. And it pains Osamu to be the reason you’re suffering.

He wants to protect you—even if it means from himself.

Sometimes difficult conversations have to be had. And he forces himself to talk to you about it when it happens next.

The two of you are having dinner, sitting across each other on the dining table, and you’re appreciating his cooking skills, complimenting his skills, but there it is again—you averting your gaze. In the three months so far that you’ve lived together, Osamu can probably count on one hand the number of times you’ve looked at him properly. He doesn’t even need to recall any of them to know that you only did so because of the dim lighting.

“Are you afraid to look at me?”

Your silence is answer enough.

“I can move out, if it makes you more comfortable,” he assures you, putting down his fork, all attention on you. “‘Cause… I don’t want to keep hurtin’ you, y'know?”

This time, he finds the courage to reach across the table and touch the side of his index finger on the bottom of your chin, elbow resting against the table. He doesn’t force you to look up though, merely stays patient while he appreciates your vulnerability, and telling himself never to take advantage of it.

“If you're uncomfortable with me, let me know, okay? I’ll move out, I can stay at Suna’s or somethin’,” he tells you, eyes trained on your face. “I just… I miss lookin’ at those eyes of yours, little lady. They’re beautiful.”

The sudden declaration has you at an utter loss for words. The feel of his finger against your skin is warm, and you peer down at his hand. His fingers are calloused, but smoother than Atsumu’s, and you let your gaze trail up his arm, stopping at his lips. They’re curved into a small, lopsided smirk, and you don’t know how, but it seems different from Atsumu’s somehow. You let them stay there, and Osamu can’t help but try.

“Look at me, maybe?”

That little coaxing is enough, because your eyes flick up, meeting his soft grey tones. You like how the smile reaches his eyes as he notices you looking, and Osamu feels the hope bubbling up inside him.

Progress.

Inside you there’s hope too, but of what you don’t really know. You don’t feel the same as when you look into Atsumu’s honey brown tones, no. With him it felt like you were looking into an unknown galaxy, full of meteors and stars you know nothing about. But with Osamu you feel a pair of warm hands around you, you get a vision of a warm, cosy house. You feel welcome, at ease.

You feel home.

Further progress comes in the form of fleeting glances and careful dances.

The two of you always take a peek at each other, and always look away sheepishly because the other finds out. And you two tiptoe on the line of flirting with each other, making cute little comments every now and then. Although Osamu almost always wins with his sweet tongue, being so equipped with food puns.

When one night you both tried making a Florentine pizza and as he grabs a piece he tells you, “you got a pizza my heart, y'know?”

And you’d respond in kind with “I think you’re so egg-cellent.”

Or when you’d wake up in the morning and make some coffee, how you’d greet him with a “good morning! I like you a latte.” (You win that one because Osamu starts blushing a deep red, all the way to his ears.)

Osamu loves you even when you’re sad, but he loves you even more like this—happy, playful, yourself. He notices how it gets better day by day. What he doesn’t know is how much you feel yourself falling too. You used to just think his eyes are just grey. Other days you look a little harder and describe them to yourself as silver. But nothing seems to justify it. They aren’t monochrome, and they definitely aren’t boring. It’s like they’re akin to ashes on a fire, tossed up in the breeze, like a burning passion exists behind them whenever they look at you.

And you look forward to seeing them everyday. Fitting, seeing as that’s how Osamu feels about you, too. But he’s always felt that way, always looks forward to seeing you no matter what.

He’s never really crossed the line though, but one night he nearly does, when you come home tipsy after a work celebration and you let your inhibitions down. Osamu has to carry you into your bed, where you grip onto the sleeve of his sweater just as he turns to go.

“Don’t leave me,” you whine out. And he has to restrain himself from pulling you into a hug right there. “Stay with me till I sleep?”

How can he say no? How can he ever say no to you, really?

“Of course, I’m always here for ya.”

And as he sits next to you, you let your head fall on his chest, letting the beat of his heart be your lullaby. But before you let yourself fall asleep, you look up at him, eyes half-closed and evidently tired. “‘Samu?”

“Hmm?”

“That girl you talked about, the one you liked, you still like her?”

Is it the way you so timidly said it that makes his heart beat faster, like he’s hoping you’re asking him because you like him too? He chuckles and smiles at you, poking your nose with his finger.

“Of course, I can’t imagine ever loving anyone but her.” He doesn’t miss the way you frown a little upon hearing that, his smile deepens and he continues. “She looks so beautiful, y'know? Even lying on my chest like this and possibly drooling.”

You panic a little at that, and it earns him a soft punch on his chest, though he doesn’t even let that register, he’s just laughing at your reaction. Never has he wanted you more than in this moment, and he’s nearly there—with you looking into his eyes, your face now just inches away. His right hand cups your cheek, with his thumb grazing over your bottom lip, as though trying to memorise the grooves on your lips, wondering what you taste like.

“I love you, and I’ve always wanted you, you have no idea how much,” he confesses, but his hands fall to the base of your neck. “But not like this, little lady.”

It doesn’t take him long then, to make his move. Because when your birthday rolls around, he brings you where he knows you wanted to go: the amusement park. (It’s the same one Atsumu posted of with his girlfriend, but by now you don’t remember that—because all you’re thinking of is how you’re here with your favourite person in the world.)

Osamu always thinks he has to be the one to make the first move, but he feels you squeeze his fingers together like a bundle of twigs before lacing your fingers in his. He holds them back tighter— so tight —as though he’s terrified that if he doesn’t that you might slip from his reach.

That night you both save mental pictures of each other.

You memorise how the hues of blue and purple paint his handsome features, and the only thing you manage to think of in that moment is how you don’t ever want to have to exist without him. He’s always been there for you, through thick and thin, even while you were breaking his heart by being oblivious and getting together with his brother. Not a lot of people would stick with you through that, and so you vow to show him just how much you really appreciate him, how much you really love him.

As for Osamu? He will never forget the ferris wheel ride where you’re joking around with him, and your laughter spills into his heart, the picture perfect scenery behind you ironically nothing compared to your beauty. He reminds himself once again of the promise he made to himself: to always be there for you, to love you the way you need it. He’s done that so far, and he knows he’ll keep on doing it.

That’s why a few seconds later, he finally finds the courage to chase after happiness. He’d wait an eternity as long as it means you’d be happy, but now he doesn’t have to, because he’s sure he can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. And as he kisses you, tastes the cotton candy lingering on your tongue, fingers feeling the dips and curves on your body, trailing down the small of your back, he wonders what he’s ever been before this very moment.

The moment you pull away, you hear fireworks exploding in the distance, the colors beautiful on his face. Then you hear the man responsible for such a display whisper in your ear, “happy birthday, my little lady.”

That’s how a few months later, Osamu ends up waking up next to the girl of his dreams. Your half of the bed (or three-quarters by the looks of it, since you love cuddling up to him so much) is nearer to the window. He sees how the sunlight hits your face, and it’s as though you’re glowing. Like your own personal halo. He finds himself wondering what he ever did to deserve someone like you, someone so real, so genuine, so kind. He thinks you’re absolutely perfect. He continues admiring you silently, appreciating every morning he gets to wake up next to you.

“Osamu,” you mumble, “stop staring.”

He presses a kiss on your head as you shift in his arms. “I thought you said I could do whatever I wanted today, hmm?”

Your eyes fly open at the mention of it, flinging the covers off your body and bounding over to the bathroom. And right before you go in, you halt at the door, winking at your boyfriend. “Get ready for everything I have planned today, handsome birthday boy.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says in faux salute, watching as you disappear into the bathroom, already missing the warmth of your body against his. He just knows today will be perfect, because he has you, all of you, to himself. If there’s anything he would fault himself for, it’s being greedy for your time. He wishes he can just spend every moment with you, you make him so happy.

But maybe he’s a little quick to think so, because the next moment he hears your phone vibrate on his nightstand, and as his eyes gloss over the sender, he feels his heart take a dive.

It says Atsumu.

Usually he doesn’t care about your messages, but he can’t help but bring himself to glance over at it.

Can we talk?

Another vibration, and another message from him. And all he can think is how dare he?

I think I’m still in love with you.

Now, Osamu really wants to deck him.

Chapter Text

People change; sometimes they change in good ways, for the better. Other times they change completely—into someone we don’t even recognise anymore. Sometimes we close our eyes to this change, or we force ourselves to believe that they can still be the person they once were, or the one we made them out to be. Add love into the mix and you have Atsumu’s situation.

If you play it wrong, love is a losing game. And that’s something that he learns the hard way.

The night you let him go, the night he got who he thought was the girl of his dreams back into his life—he thought he was a champion. Why wouldn’t he? He got her back, and his assumptions have led him to think that you give them your blessing. (Did you? You probably weren’t even sure yourself.) 

At that point, he thought he had it all—the volleyball career he’s worked so hard for, the fairytale ending with the princess he’s loved all this time, as well as a great, supportive friend like you, and his nonchalant yet caring brother.

He had it all.

In his head.

He didn’t realise that the moment you read his letters, the letters he didn’t send out—he’d already lost.

Everything was easy at first, all peaches and rainbows—a mere illusion. Maybe he should’ve taken the hint that night, at the first red light he saw. If he had followed his instincts and turned tail, run straight back to you and apologise for even agreeing to this, maybe ask you for a second chance for him to treat you right, he would have had a shot at real happiness. All he needed to do was open his eyes.

But he didn’t. Because he thought he knew best. That, and the fact that he just got the person he was pining for back.

And then he went on a date with her. He had enjoyed it all, everything that was planned by you. Yet you weren’t there at all. He didn’t know where you were, but you were tucked away in the recesses of his mind, in a little corner he didn’t dare to pick at yet.

“Come on, babe, take a picture of us!”

Her voice brought him back to his senses, and he gave a small smile. A chuckle and he completely gave in. It’d been so long since he’d heard that excited squeal of hers that he could feel the adrenaline rushing through him just listening to her. He was full of anticipation of what was to come. And more than that, he knew that he absolutely couldn't afford to lose her again, not after tasting what it had been like after losing her the first time. So he took the pictures and showed them to her, but the next moment, he wished he didn’t.

“We look so good together! Why don’t you post it?”

There was no malice in her voice, no poison dripping from her tongue. She just looked so honestly excited to announce this make-up to everyone. (But it was common knowledge that looks could be deceiving.) Atsumu wasn't a total blockhead, though. He knew the implications it may bring.

“But—“

“Are you not happy to be with me or something?”

He didn't know whether that pout of hers was intentional or whether she really just placed a bit too much reliance on social media for approval, but he knew she was getting upset.

“No but…” His mind wandered to the last time he saw you, all asleep on your side of the bed, curled up on your side. You looked so tranquil, so precious. You always did whatever you thought was best for him. “Don’t you think it’s a little quick to be posting this kinda thing? I mean, she did set us up and y'know… plan everythin’?”

He was so used to you—kind, understanding you—that what his current girlfriend proposed seemed preposterous to him. But then he saw her looking up at him, eyes slightly misty, and he felt all his walls crumbling down. He exhaled deeply, hand reaching out to caress her cheek, before his lips slowly formed a smile. She always did make him feel weak.

“Okay, okay, princess, I’ll post it, okay?”

That content smile that formed on her face—he thought it was bliss. He was no wizard, he thought he was merely doing his duty, choosing her side, as he should be. She was his girlfriend now, shouldn’t he try to always do what made her happy? It was love after all, wasn’t it? The answers never came, though, because there was no guidebook for love, no list of rights and wrongs, full of subjectiveness and grey areas. So Atsumu fell prey to a mistake—a mistake so common, a mistake that Osamu nearly made himself, once upon a time.

To be with someone who didn't really love them, and who they didn't really love.

The signs showed up eventually, though. The first sign was a wave of regret akin to ripples on the water surrounding his feet, still planted firmly against the sand as he stood by the shore.

It came with the recognition that all of a sudden, you weren't anywhere. Usually he’d see glimpses of you, be it in your socials, or your friend’s. But you weren't posting anything, and Atsumu, who still very much thought of you as an angel, couldn't help but be curious. Yet he couldn't bring himself to text you. What right did he have?

The closest sign he’d had to seeing a trace of you was through your friend leaving derogatory comments on pictures of himself and his girlfriend. Atsumu noticed all of them. He always noticed. He spent every night on his phone with his girlfriend sleeping soundly beside him, in the apartment he used to share with you. And he couldn't help but think, each time he turned to look at her, that fantasies rarely ever work out the way people wanted them to.

Instead of hugging her and appreciating that he got her back, he was filled with this doubt that what he wanted was always a figment of his imagination, something he projected onto her. And look at what he was doing instead—stalking your page, trying to find any life of you. Instead all he got was a notification on another one of his own pictures, and he didn't even have to read it to know it was your friend roasting him. Again.

This time, it was on the picture he posted earlier, of them at a romantic candlelit dinner. He looked at his own caption, cringing. She was the one who made him post and write all of this, like no recognition in the world was enough proof of his love for her. Or was that the problem? Did he really love her? Or was he just fooling himself?

@atsumumiya: i choose you.
@aomineavenue: she a pokemon?
@aomineavenue: you traded a legendary for a commoner, congratulations.

Not that he actually disagreed.

And on another picture from earlier that morning of them in bed, another one of her comments popped up.

@atsumumiya: love waking up next to you, sexy ;)
@aomineavenue: ooooh, sexy?
@aomineavenue: true, my middle finger gets a boner whenever i see you two.
   @miyaosa: i live for ur comments @aomineavenue
   @aomineavenue: thank u, tell my best friend/ur roommate hi for me <3

Atsumu wasn't the least bit bothered though—he knew he deserved at least this. Even though he never actually betrayed you physically, it was wrong of him to have kept his real feelings from you. It wasn’t fair to you. And he wished he could take it all back, he really did.

Wait—

He looked over her comment again. You were living with Osamu? That was news to him. He had been a second away from typing a message to Osamu to ask him what that was about when his girlfriend turned around and mumbled something about asking him to get into bed.

“Okay, princess.”

Jealousy was a green-eyed monster, and he was going to get a taste of it.

The next sign came as a comparison he was familiar with. It was a regret stronger than before, where there were now waves crashing at his feet, the water pooling higher, round his ankles. He was comparing his girlfriend to you, now. In your perfection, how you were always amazing at reading him, caring for him, loving him, he found her shortfalls. Now you were the one he spent every waking moment wondering about, and who he spent every night hesitating to talk to—always typing out messages in your chat thread but never actually daring to hit ‘send’.

Atsumu wasn't totally dense. Now he knew what a dickhead he was to you. Now he knew he never saw how good he had it until he lost it. It was you, it had always been you—you were his best friend first before anything, and how dare he be a coward and not tell you the truth?

This time, it was 12am and instead of opening up your contact, he searched for his brother’s. It’d been a while since he’d spoken to him. The last time being the morning of their birthday a few months back.

‘Samu, how is she? She good?

It didn't take him long to answer.

Love who you’re with, ‘Tsumu. Before you lose her again.

Atsumu sighed in resignation. He hated how much his brother made sense sometimes. He was pointing out that Atsumu had made a choice, and that he should stick with it, live with it.

Another vibration. It was Osamu again.

She’s doing better. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to take care of her.

Now the jealousy properly manifested itself inside him—the realisation that the one who got to take care of you wasn't him anymore. Not even close. The distance between you and Atsumu was wider than it’d ever been. Even when he was just friends with you the two of you were at least still that—friends. And now he wasn’t sure what the two of you were anymore.

And he hated it.

The last sign came in the form of a picture, one that hit him like a tsunami, completely knocked him off his feet, washing him away together with the current, annihilating every other thought in his mind. 

The catalyst? 

A photo on Osamu’s page. He rarely ever posted anything when it didn't concern his business, or at all really. But today? He’d pinned himself at a restaurant near the port; Atsumu remembered his brother telling him once that it was a romantic date spot. The real kicker? Osamu had his head against your shoulder, his grin apparent even under his black cap as he looked up at you, who was looking into the camera, your face a picture of absolute bliss.

Atsumu’s eyes lingered on your face. God, how long since he'd seen that smile of yours? It’d been too long. Way too long. Then his gaze fell to the caption.

@miyaosa: this tastes great. i mean the food ;)
@aomineavenue: omg someone upgraded?? why did i hear nothing from u?? </3
     @youruser: whatever do u mean ;)

Did this mean… the two of you were hooking up? Or was it just two best friends doing their thing? He was running a thousand different scenarios in his mind, all filled to the brim with you and Osamu, and he was hoping, wishing, praying that it was nothing. Because that was it—he might not have known exactly how he loved you, but he definitely knew he did now, more than he loved his girlfriend, probably as much as he loved his brother.

It didn't help that next to him on the couch was his girlfriend, running her mouth about how Osamu should be ashamed of himself, dating his brother’s ex. Not only that, she was taking a dig at you too, for dating your ex’s twin brother. She inched closer to him, until there was no gap between them, and started running her fingers up and down his chest, whispering in his ear, “we both know she’s just dating him because ‘Samu looks like you.”

And Atsumu couldn't help but think of how stupid he was, how big of a mistake he’d made. He was being treated like nothing more than a trophy, a prize. He looked at her and realised she was a poison, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. She wasn’t the person she once was, wasn’t the person he once knew. She was a different person altogether, one who’d spent the last few months unhappy with whatever she got and kept asking for more. Maybe a part of her knew too, that she could never get his hundred percent. Not with you around.

He let out a derisive snort at the realisation that she was him, the him when he was with you. He hadn't been nearly as bad to you as she is to him, though, but he was still horrible to you all the same. He wasn’t happy with what he had, and always dreamed of having what he didn’t have. And now that dream had turned into a nightmare in the form of a human always degrading his brother and his best friend.

So he pulled himself away from her and stood up, finally realising the truth.

“Let’s break up.”

A few weeks after that he found himself trudging towards Onigiri Miya uninvited, half-hoping to see you there and the other half hoping that you weren’t so he could have a good talk with his brother.

He got the latter.

Ten minutes later he was seated at the corner of the store, Osamu across from him, a deadpan expression smeared across his face. Atsumu stayed silent, not knowing where to begin, but they both know why he was there.

Osamu took it upon himself to start, knowing how conflicted his brother probably was about the entire ordeal. “She’s fine now, by the way,” he told him, and Atsumu’s face lit up a little at the mention of you. He was like a puppy dog who’d lost his owner. “Like I told you before, I’ll take care of her.”

Atsumu hesitated, but he mustered up the courage to ask the question that’d been bugging him for a while now. “You two together or somethin’?” He was honestly fearing the answer.

His brother sighed, leaning back against the seat. “Not yet, just datin’. She’s still got a, uh, —“ he stared pointedly at Atsumu — “chip on her shoulder. So I told her no rush, I’d wait for her.”

“So if I were, to, uh,” Atsumu stuttered, knowing he was taking a long shot. “It’s… fair game?”

Grey eyes shot up to meet his, and for a second he could see the irritation in Osamu’s eyes. He was mad at his brother for calling it a ‘game’, but he couldn’t exactly fault him. He probably didn't mean it that way, probably just needed to work on his phrasing. And Atsumu took his brother’s silence as a ‘yes’.

“May the best man win,” Atsumu says, trying to ease the tension and holding out his hand for a handshake. But all he earned were fists slamming against the table and a scoff. “What?”

Osamu couldn't nearly begin to explain how much he hated hearing that. But he tried.

“You don’t get it, do you?” He raised his voice at Atsumu, teeth gritted and eyes wide. He was trying his best not to reach across and give his twin an uppercut. What did one have to do to get through to him? “I don’t care about which one of us wins, ‘Tsumu. I just care that whoever she ends up with in the end is who she really wants to be with. I want her to win. If she suddenly wakes up one day and chooses you, I won’t even cut in, but I will be there to catch her if you ever dare to leave her again!”

“I’m sor—“

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu swallowed his words, looking at his brother who he never knew could look this upset. Usually he’d fight back but he knew his brother was right. He’d been a dick, and he can see why Osamu would be upset. And to be honest, he felt kind of like a dick at that very moment too, upon the realisation that maybe Osamu could love you better, but still wanting to take every chance he could at a shot with you because he didn't think he could just let you go without a fight.

“I’m not the one you should apologise to, dumbass.” Osamu didn't even hide the disdain in his voice, or his face. “You let her walk away the moment she threw you back in your ex’s arms, ‘Tsumu. You let her walk away with no resistance like she didn’t mean a god damn thing to you!”

The moment his brother got stunned into silence, Osamu took that as his cue to leave. He didn't have anything more to say to him anyway. None that wouldn’t end in a fistfight. But he barely got past him before Atsumu grabbed his wrist.

“What the fuck else do you want, ‘Tsumu?”

“Her birthday’s next week —“

“I know, I got plans with her.”

“Where?”

“Just this restaurant she’s been dyin’ to try —“

“Take her to the carnival,” Atsumu suggested, cutting his brother off. When Osamu shot him a dubious look, Atsumu pressed his lips into a firm line. “You know… tha’ one I went to the other time, tha’ one I posted about before. She, uh, always wanted to go there but I didn’t… I was a dick.”

Osamu sighed again. But he felt his anger dissipating slowly. He didn't know what to say, not when his brother was actually trying to do something nice that wasn’t for himself for once.

“That place is special to her. Take her there, believe me, I’ll be the last thing on her mind if you do.”

Atsumu never planned to give his brother any suggestions, but from what he had heard earlier, he was more than happy to give you the dream date you wanted, even if he didn’t get to be the one to give it to you. Without another word, Atsumu left the premises, leaving behind a grateful but conflicted Osamu.

On your birthday, Atsumu wanted to wish you a happy birthday. He wanted to talk to you so bad. But he knew it might ruin your mood. And he couldn't risk you being sad. Not today. So he convinced himself not to say a thing.

But it was all worth it when he got a text from Osamu. It was a candid picture of you taking a bite of cotton candy and wearing the most beautiful smile ever.

Now Atsumu knew what his brother had been through. Was this how Osamu felt every time he had to help you resolve fights between you and his brother? Not able to say a thing about his own feelings because he was too in love with you to be that selfish?

Tell her happy birthday for me.

But he couldn't hit send. Atsumu scoffed at himself before deleting everything he typed, replacing it with a: have a good time, bro.

Really loving someone is hard work. Loving someone and giving them everything they need, in the way they need it—it’s easier said than done. And Atsumu is prone to mistakes, as always. Because on the day of their birthday, the moment he wakes up from a nightmare, the first person he texts is you.

Can we talk?

He hesitates. Was that good enough? He tries sending another.

I think I’m still in love with you.

It’s only fair for you to know what you’re walking into should you agree… right?

And twenty agonising minutes later, he finally gets a reply.

Where?

He’s trying not to, but he can’t suppress the grin on his face. He was expecting a rejection, honestly. At least something about having to spend the day with Osamu, that you’re busy. Maybe… you two weren’t together after all? He wastes no time in replying you.

I’ll drive over to ‘Samu’s, we can talk at the carpark or somethin’. Be there in fifteen.

Thirteen minutes later he’s there (thanks to a bit of speeding because he just can’t wait to see you). You’re early too. You’re in the parking lot, waiting for him by the stairwell. The moment he gets out of his car he doesn’t hide the impatience in is steps as he makes his way toward you, meeting you in the middle.

He notices how your hair is longer, and how you’re absolutely glowing. You look healthy, you radiate such a warm energy. Oh how much he’s missed you, he thinks to himself. He can’t remember the last time you looked this… ethereal. Atsumu feels a pang in his heart as he thinks that the reason you’re brimming this way is because of his brother. He really did take good care of you.

“I think I’m still in love with you,” he confesses, looking you in the eyes and reaching out to take both of your hands in his. God, how he missed them—soft, smooth, gentle. Perfect. He wants to ask if any part of you still feels the same, but he gets his answer as you slowly pull away from him, giving him a forced smile—one that looks sad more than anything else.

Somehow Atsumu finds himself unable to accept it at first, moving forward and pulling you into a hug. But it ends up making him feel more distant to you, as though it’s widening the gap instead of closing it, because you can’t even find it in yourself to hug him back. Your hands are at your side, and you’re just listening to his erratic heartbeat pounding in your ear. You can see he’s trying to keep his shoulders from trembling, and you can hear his stifled sniffling.

“‘Tsumu,” you call out hesitantly, slowly pushing him away from you. (He tries to memorise how you say his name, he thinks it might be the last time he gets to hear it. It always hits him differently when you say his name, he loves it so much. He loves you so much. When he sees you it’s always a reassurance that safety and comfort exists, and the only reason he lost it in the first place is because he took you for granted.)

You bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You finally allow yourself to get some form of closure.

“I don’t love you, ‘Tsumu, not anymore. I don’t even know if what we had was love at all, or maybe I was just in love with the idea of what we could be, you know?” (Atsumu agrees with you, nodding inwardly. He agrees, because the latter was how he felt about who he once thought was the love of his life.) “With you, it somehow felt like I had to win your love every time, you know? And then by the end of it, I’d hate myself when I don’t.”

In this moment, he finds that words escape him, because all he can think of is that his nightmare is realised—he’s really lost you now, and he doesn’t know what he can possibly do or say to make you stay. Was this how you felt exactly one year ago when you read those letters? Osamu was kind enough to tell him why you left in the first place when he asked. And as much as Atsumu wants to tell you he’s changed, he doubts himself. How can he say for sure? Has he? Can he love you the way you loved him, so selflessly? Can he love you the way Osamu always has and still does?

“Listen, I’m going to give you the luxury you never gave me,” you tell him, a resigned look paving its way across your features. “The truth,” (Atsumu feels guilt more than anything upon hearing that,) “I love ‘Samu.”

The smile that graces your lips as you say that makes Atsumu realise something. He’s lost ever since the minute he dared to let you walk away that night. His brother’s words from the other day replay in his head, on a loop. How he doesn’t care which of the two of them wins or loses. How he only wants you to win. God, he really must love you way more than he does. And Atsumu lets a small smile escape him. Osamu’s right. What matters is that you win. God knows you deserve it. And you have won, because you’re having your happy beginning right now. Osamu’s loved you so selflessly from the start.

Maybe, the answer always was, and always will be, Osamu for you, and you for Osamu, all along.

“Even now, I’m only here because of him,” you fess up. “I wanted to tell you this over the phone but… ‘Samu told me to just come and see you, to make sure of my own feelings. Even told me that if I saw you and still found myself wanting you that he’d… he’d let me go, you know?”

Atsumu isn’t surprised in the least. He’s trying not to let the tears spill over again but he’s well aware his eyes are getting all misty now. Still he can’t bring himself to look away from you. You are the love of his life, after all. The real one. And he’s loving the cheeky grin that forms on your face right now, the only thing he hates about it is that he’s not the reason for it.

“I don’t know what went wrong between you and that girl because… you sounded so in love with her,” and Atsumu doesn’t miss the slight tremble of your voice. He resists trying to hug you again, resists telling you that he’s so in love with you, resists telling you sorry he didn’t realise everything sooner. “I only know what’s going on with me, and… I haven’t told him this myself but… I’m pretty sure I’d love to spend the rest of my life with ‘Samu, and only him.”

Atsumu nods hearing this, because he understands now. He’s come a full circle in a year, only to realise that bliss had been in his grasp all along. But he lost it, all because of his own greed and disillusionment. While his brother was always patient with you, always put your feelings first, never made you feel less than enough, Atsumu did the opposite. He was more self-centred than anything, and always got you thinking that you had to do more, more, more to win his love. He gets it now. He feels a selfish part of him, still, wanting to ask you if it would still be okay to be friends, still okay to keep in contact.

But he can’t bring himself to say it. Because he knows some things aren’t about him. If he ends up losing both you—his best friend—and his brother, it’s on him. He’s the one responsible for everything that transpired in the first place anyway. To his credit, though, he finally figures out the right thing to do by you. He loves you—

“Don’t tell him but,” Atsumu brings his index finger to his lips, “I know my brother loves you that much too, maybe even more.”

—so he lets you go.

You giggle at his words, and Atsumu can probably never tell how much you appreciate him trying to be okay with all of this, because you know that no matter how much they squabble, it’s a fact that Osamu wouldn’t want to lose his brother either.

“Happy birthday, ‘Tsumu,” you wish him, before smiling at him one last time and turning your back on your once-prince charming.

There’s this thing about life. Sometimes the nice guys do get everything they deserve, everything they dream of—it can be seen in you and Osamu.

Nothing can beat the look of relief on Osamu’s face as he sees you skip through the doorway and running into a hug in his arms. You press a kiss into his lips, telling him how insulted (sarcasm) you are that he’d even, for a second, doubt you.

Osamu chuckles, still carrying you in his arms, and you can feel the muscles of his arms tighten their grip round you. “I’m sorry, m’lady, I can’t help it, I’m just so afraid of losin’ ya, I love ya so much.” (He’s glad his brother at least got one thing right though—you’re definitely worth fighting for.)

You giggle and press the tips of your noses together. “Hmm… I guess I’ll have to spend an eternity proving that you can never get rid of me, huh?”

He hums as he thinks it over. “You? Proving you love me forever?” He nods. “Sounds like the only present I’ll ever need.”

And while the two of you celebrate, in another part of the city, Atsumu is dragging his feet into his house, not even bothering to check whether his door is shut properly after he goes through. All he manages to do is slump down on his sofa and look up at the walls, where pictures of you and him are mounted up there, in black frames. He hung them up one night when he was thinking about you. As though seeing pictures of you could help him somehow. And now he can feel the tears running down his cheeks because he properly lost his shot at happiness, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He can try, but he won’t. He wants you to last with his brother. That smile he saw earlier—it’s real and he doesn’t want anything to ruin that.

He reaps what he sows, and maybe it’s time he accepts that. Coming back to an empty apartment, being rejected by someone who used to always take his side. Atsumu sighs. He deserves this.

The constant vibration from his phone distracts him. It’s your number.

“Hello? Ya need anything?” Atsumu’s doing his best to keep his voice from quivering.

“We were going to head out for lunch… wanna come with?”

He can’t even believe his ears. Why are the two of you so nice?

“Nah, it’s fine, really,” Atsumu says. He appreciates it, but it’s Osamu’s first birthday alone together with you. He really shouldn’t interfere.

“Ah, ‘Samu’s insisting though—"

“Tell him not to be a dumbass and enjoy his date,” Atsumu jokes, hoping his attempt to sound okay is still holding up. “I’m sure you got the whole day planned, right? Tell him to enjoy it.” Atsumu knows he sure did, one year ago.

He hears you chuckling over the other line, and the faint “huh” of his brother in the background at being called a dumbass. “Okay, ‘Tsumu… thanks.” Atsumu can just imagine how happy you guys would be today, and frankly, that’s enough for him.

After he hangs up, he thinks of everything he’s put you through. Is this how you and Osamu felt? At a loss of what to do as you watch the love of your life love someone else? He lets out a self-deprecating laugh at how much he misses you, and he has an aching feeling that he’ll miss his brother this much too, because how can he ever face either of you now, knowing that he’ll probably break at anything that has to do with the either of you.

If he keeps repeating to himself that he doesn’t love you… will it one day be real? Maybe if he does that, maybe it’ll come true. So he keeps replaying it in his head over and over again. No matter how long it takes.

BONUS — THREE YEARS LATER.

Atsumu downs the shot of whiskey in front of him. It’s how he tries to drown his feelings. He wasn’t too fond of it at first, but he’s learned to love the taste of it dripping down his throat, finding comfort in the warmth that builds in his stomach. It’s going to take more than a few shots to get him drunk, but that’s a privilege he can’t indulge in. Not tonight.

A few seconds later, someone occupies the stool next to him, and he doesn’t need to turn to know who it is.

“What do you want, ‘Samu?”

His brother shrugs, taking the empty shot glass out of his brother’s hands and setting it down on the island. “Control yourself, will you?”

Atsumu snorts. “Don’t worry. I won’t get wasted. Trust me, will you?”

Osamu huffs, shaking his head as he gets up. “You better not, idiot. We can’t have you losin’ more of your setter skills than you already have.” (To which Atsumu sticks his tongue out as Osamu walks away.)

The blonde watches as his brother makes his way across the room to you, and there’s just something about the way the light of the chandelier above you hits your face that makes everything in the room pale in comparison. It’s like… your own personal halo. He’s whispering something in your ear, and you giggle in response, before your eyes rest on Atsumu. Next thing he knows, you’re sauntering over to him, and he welcomes you with a smirk.

“So, your brother tells me someone needs to control the budding alcoholic inside of you,” you whisper as you reach him.

Atsumu casts you a skeptical look. “You gonna be that person?” He teases, before asking the bartender for another, earning a pointed glare from you. “You know, you're lookin’ real similar to ‘Samu right now. Plus, it’s an open bar so,” he shrugs before accepting the shot from the bartender.

You don’t let him down it though, because you grab it from him and down it yourself, to which Atsumu’s eyes widen in both surprise and admiration. He chuckles before he teases you with a “guess I know it’s not a shotgun—“ you jab him in the stomach— “ow!”

“Asshole,” you frown at him. He grins sheepishly at you. “You know… ‘Samu told me what you told him that time, the day of the fitting.”

Atsumu feels his breath hitching in his throat. He told him not to tell you any of that. It was a moment of weakness and he was tipsy. “It was just—“

“Don’t worry about it, ‘Tsumu,” you cut him off. “Maybe if we had met at a different point in life we would’ve worked out together… but I’m sure whoever you end up with next time is gonna be one hell of a lucky girl.”

Atsumu cringes hearing his words thrown back at him. “Urgh, ‘m gonna kill ‘Samu one of these days,” he mumbles.

You laugh at his embarrassment. You can’t even begin to thank your lucky stars that the two of them are capable of being normal with each other despite everything.

“Hey, I’m—"

“I know, ‘Tsumu,” you assure him, giving that infinitely patient smile of yours as you always did, before you stroll back to his brother.

Minutes later the sounds of spoons clinking against champagne glasses fill the room, and Atsumu stands up from his seat, a champagne glass in his right hand, eyes falling onto his brother across the room, with you right next to him, arms intertwined and looking at him expectantly.

“To my brother,” he raises his glass in the air, “congratulations on finally settling down with this wonderfully amazin’ person, because I know no two people who are as compatible as the two of you are for each other, and no two people who deserve each other as much,” he toasts, and his eyes shift from his brother to you. “And to—“

the love of my life—

“the best friend I could ever ask for, I can’t wait for tomorrow until I can officially welcome you to our family, future Mrs. Miya.” (It pains him to say it, because you’re not his Mrs. Miya.)

Everyone drinks, and Osamu places a kiss on your lips after Atsumu’s short toast ends, and Atsumu smiles knowing how happy the two of you are as he takes a seat. He’s just glad that the three of you were able to work out the differences, and that you’re all still a part of each other’s lives. He hasn’t lost the two most important people in his life, because what would be worse than having to watch you marrying someone else, is to not be a part of you or his brother’s life at all.

And looking at how happy Osamu is with you, he knows he would never do anything to jeopardise that.

Never.