Chapter Text
The year is 2003. Suna is only six years old, young and naive and impressionable. He watches the woman on the news report another country legalise same-sex marriage. For some unknown reason, the image of the two men, blanketed in two rainbow flags, brings a smile to his face.
He drops his breakfast down on the coffee table and runs into the kitchen, excited to show his parents about his new and exciting discovery. “Momma, daddy, on the tv!” He jumps up and down on the spot, reaching out to grab the edge of his sleeve.
“Okay, I'm coming,” his dad says, allowing Suna to drag him back into the living room. The news story is still on the screen, this time showing a protest with flags of all colours being flown around.
Upon seeing it, his father's face turns thunderous, Suna's smile drops.
“Why is this on?” He asks Suna, voice perfectly level enough to make worry wash over him.
“It- it just came on,” he mumbles, looking down at his hands twisting together. Why is his dad so angry? What was wrong with it?
He spares a glance back at the screen. The woman is still reporting on the legalisation of same-sex marriage, naming the three countries that have already gone through with it. His father turns to him and clamps his hands down on his shoulders. He turns his gaze away from piercing eyes, only to be forced back into eye contact.
“Rintarou, they are people who don't deserve to exist. They are disgusting, and if you ever become one of them, you do not want to know the consequences you will face.” The weight of his hands on his shoulders doesn't feel like a reassuring one.
Suna nods, too scared to say anything that may annoy his father more.
From the kitchen, his mother spares Suna a worried glance.
⤵︎
It's early April when Suna goes through his bag for the first time since he graduated school. The fresh, Spring air fills his lungs as his mother helps him unpack his boxes in his new apartment in Tokyo. He's eighteen, an Inarizaki graduate, middle blocker for the EJP Raijin.
Living in Tokyo feels like a breath of fresh air. It's miles away from childhood home, from his father.
For now, he's unpacking alone while his mother is out getting them lunch. He picks up a large box, expecting it to be heavier than it actually is, he lurches backwards.
His old school bag falls from the box, and a piece of paper slips out as it hits the ground. He picks it up, about to throw it away before curiosity gets the better of him and he unfolds it. The first thing he sees is Osamu's chicken-scratch handwriting. His breath catches in his throat.
For the first time, Suna reads that letter. He reads it word by word, seeing the onslaught of emotions Osamu felt as he wrote it. He sees how Osamu poured his heart out onto a crumpled piece of paper. Suna's throat closes up. A stray tear falls onto the paper, the ink of Osamu's name at the bottom runs.
It's too late, he's fucked up.
When she returns, his mother finds him hunched over the letter. He looks up at her, and with stray tears falling down his cheeks, chokes out a confession he's kept hidden for years.
⤵︎
Over the years, Suna thinks a lot about his old friend. Osamu promised a lot of things in his letter. Has he truly become happier? Did he really forget about him like he insisted he would? Surely not, forgetting about someone is almost impossible.
There's one question that stays present in his mind. Why would Osamu love someone like him?
The thoughts almost leave the front of his mind over time, making their way to his long term memory for future mourning. Suna spends less nights in bed wondering what could have happened if he had faced the truth. He almost forgets what it's like to eat anything without thinking of the boy whose heart he broke all those years ago.
But Osamu is still always there. Whenever there's a game against the Jackals, he's there with his stand selling his onigiri. Even if he and Atsumu share the same face, Suna can see the differences, but it doesn't stop blond hair from bleeding into the familiar ash gray from high school.
It's like having your every move scrutinised. Whatever he does, his mind is always there to tell him he's a cruel person. Weights around his ankles pull him into the ground like it's quicksand, the bag of his past failures and regrets on his back pulls him down further.
A week after the grand opening of Onigiri Miya’s Tokyo branch, Suna finds himself across the street staring at the door. It has been a long while since he's let himself get so close, to give himself a chance to see Osamu in the flesh. He's a coward though, because a week is a long enough time to wait for Osamu to leave back to his original store in Osaka. It's a step forward, without the chance to actually face his fears.
He crosses the street and pushes open the door. The bell chimes as he walks in, a low chatter of gathered people fills his ears.
His eyes scan over the menu, he gently ponders what to buy over the undercurrent of anxiety running through him. He drops his sights to the man working at the counter, stopping on a very familiar yet strange figure. Suna feels a twist of fear and his heart plummets to his stomach.
Looks like he underestimated how long Osamu would be in Tokyo for.
Osamu has certainly grown since Suna last properly got a look at him. The last bits of baby fat that clung to his cheeks in high school has melted off, leaving a pronounced jawline and sharp cheekbones. His hair is no longer dyed, messy black strands sticking out from under the cap he's wearing. He holds himself proudly now, shoulders no longer hunched from a broken spirit, and an easygoing smile stretched across his lips.
Although, that may be because of the person he's talking to. Akaashi is easy to recognise, with his delicate beauty despite the constant bedraggled look and huge, slightly childish glasses. They've spoken many times while he's visited Washio, but he's always kept a respectful distance from him.
Suna guesses he can understand why now.
Osamu has one elbow propped up on the counter, leaning his cheek into his hand. He says something, causing Akaashi to chuckle and flick eraser shavings at him. The easy camaraderie between the pair pulls at the weaker part of him, he goes to turn and walk back out.
That's when Osamu's gaze briefly flicks over in his direction, Suna watches every single muscle in him tense up. He shares a look with Akaashi before straightening to his full height. His eyes stay trained on Suna while he stands at the door like a deer in headlights.
He's not meant to be here. Osamu wasn’t meant to be here, he wasn't meant to see him.
“What can I get ya?” His voice is level as he speaks, eyes piercing into him and making him weak in the knees.
Suna clears his throat, taking a shaky step towards the counter. He avoids his gaze by rereading the entire menu. “Two kombu onigiri. Please.”
“That will be three hundred yen.”
He hands over the money, hoping his hands aren't shaking as much as he feels they are. Their fingers brush with a flare of heat up his fingers, Osamu puts the money away seemingly unaffected. There's the heavy weight of someone watching him, he looks over to see Akaashi assessing him with the same piercing stare.
As quickly as their exchange began, it's over again. Osamu hands him the onigiri, he mutters out a hurried, “thank you,” and practically runs out of the building.
Osamu has always been the quiet one of the twins, usually thinking before he speaks. The polite demeanour Osamu kept up unnerves him though, he was never polite, unless it was Kita. But that was only because Kita scared him. He was still an emotional person, even if it was mostly anger when he got into fights with his brother.
Which is why the politeness worries him. Suna would have thought the moment Osamu saw him, he would have at least treated him a little coldly. It's the least he deserves for being such a shitty person back in high school.
Without even thinking, Suna makes a beeline for his bedroom when he gets home. He pulls open his sock drawer and fishes the note out from the bottom.
It's clearly well loved, the creases worn down from constant folding over the years. There's splodges of faded and watered down ink from any tears Suna has allowed to fall during his more difficult moments. Suna has stared at it for so long he can trace over every smudge and wrinkle created in the piece of paper.
He can recite the letter from memory. The paragraphs of heartache and fury haunting him as he tries to go about his day. If Osamu was trying to make Suna never forget about him, he did a damn good job.
I'm so fucking angry at you. But I'm still so fucking in love with you, I hate it.
In the scribbled letters of the word love, there is a rip. Made by Suna when he gripped it too hard after a long night of drinking. That night, he'd been unreasonably angry at Osamu. He had given up, abandoned everything like that, with only a letter to give him.
But, Osamu wasn't the one who gave up. He tried, and Suna ran. Suna gave up before he could even fail.
He takes a deep breath, sitting up against his headboard and letting his head hit the wall. “I'm sorry Samu,” he mumbles into the darkness. The darkness doesn't speak back, and images fill his mind.
Osamu and Akaashi’s interaction doesn't leave him. He hadn't been as relaxed around anyone like that since Suna. The jealousy tugs at him in the worst way possible.
(17:48) you: What's the deal with Akaashi and your brother?
As soon as he sends the text, Suna regrets it. He's not Osamu's friend anymore, he shouldn't get involved with his life. Atsumu doesn't take long to reply.
(17:58) Tsumu: Keiji-kun? Theyre besties, spend hours bondin over onigiri like greedy bastards
(17:58) you: Oh.
(17:59) Tsumu: What did ya expect Rin? For Samu to keep his best friend spot open for you when ya finally got yer shit together?
(17:59) you: Shut up, you cannot still be mad at me over that.
(17:59) Tsumu: I mean
(18:00) Tsumu: I told ya to talk to him
(18:00) Tsumu: Not my fault ya literally broke my baby brother’s heart
(18:01) you: You know why I didn't do anything.
(18:01) Tsumu: And look how that turned out for ya
(18:01) Tsumu: Im not havin this conversation with ya again, just let Samu live his life
Suna reads over the last message until his phone turns off. He stares at the faint reflection in the screen. He thinks.
⤵︎
He's almost seven when he gets his first crush. It's the peak of Winter, snow dancing down from the clouds until it hits the floor. He and his friend Kouji spend the afternoon in the park, throwing snowballs at each other and building snowmen.
Despite the cold, Suna doesn't feel it at all. He's happy hanging out with his best friend, seeing how big they can make a snowball or catching snowflakes and matching them melt in the palms of their hands.
They sit on a bench with their hot chocolates, giggling about the extra marshmallows the woman at the counter gave them. Their legs swing in the air, toes never reaching the floor no matter how hard they stretch their legs. Steam hits their face, they take sips from the hot chocolate and let out loud squeaks when they burn their tongues.
Suna likes Kouji a lot, he shares his snacks at lunch and they always pair up in gym class. The day his father told him that being gay was bad has left his mind, instead taken over by how he wouldn't mind letting Kouji use his brand new pencil.
In movies, he sees adults hug and kiss and hold hands and thinks he would never be caught doing something so gross. But he would like to know what it's like to hold Kouji’s hand, to know if Kouji's lips are soft like they describe a girl’s in the movies.
When he gets home, Suna kicks off his shoes and runs into the living room. His parents are there, watching one of the shows they say Suna is too young to watch. That's okay, because Suna finds them boring anyway.
His mom catches him as he takes a flying leap at them. “How was your day, sweetie?” She asks, pulling off his bobble hat and running a hand through his hair.
“It was great! Me and Kouji made snowmen, then we got hot chocolates and saw the frozen river.” He giggles as she moves her hands down to tickle his neck.
“Is this the Kouji you met at school?”
Suna nods excitedly, beaming with childish glee. “Yep, he's my best friend. I like him a lot!”
For the first time since Suna arrived, his father acknowledges his presence. “It better not be in the way I think it is,” he grunts, tone dark. And just like that, Suna remembers that one morning.
He freezes, turning to look at his father with his crossed arms and intimidating glare. “No, he's just my best friend. You said gay was bad.”
“Good.” His dad unfolds his arms and nods.
Suna doesn't know if he wants to hold Kouji's hand anymore. Not if his dad will hate him.
⤵︎
All throughout training, Suna doesn't stop thinking about Osamu, or the letter. Multiple times he fails a spike or a block that makes his coach watch him with growing impatience.
It's been a long time since Suna let himself become so easily distracted.
Coach tells him to get his act together before their next game. He ignores Komori’s insistent questions as they walk out of the gym.
His irritation brings him back to Onigiri Miya. He looks up at the sign and wonders why he must have such a complicated life. It's much quieter from the last time he was here, probably due to the fact there is ten minutes left until the store closes.
Two people sit at a far table, finishing up the last of their food. Osamu drifts around the room, sweeping the floor with an ease that suggests he's done it thousands of times before. His attention is moved to him when the door jingles. This time, Suna is prepared for the way Osamu's expression turns a little cold.
“What can I get ya?” Osamu asks him, walking around to stand behind the counter. Suna walks up, lowering his voice as he speaks.
“Can we talk?”
The only clue that reveals his annoyance is the slight twitch of his brow. “Sorry, we only serve onigiri.”
“Samu, please-”
“No.” He's cut off with the raise of Osamu's hand. “I have nothing to say to ya. Everything I wanted to say is in that letter. You had the chance to talk to me in high school, I'm not doin’ this. If yer not here for food then leave, because I won't cause a scene in my restaurant.”
It's almost like working on muscle memory, he nods slowly, turns and walks out. The rush of cold air hits him.
It's late November, he can feel the winter chill seep through his coat and into his bones. He is twenty three, Osamu is twenty four. It's been over seven years since they last properly spoke to one another. Suna realises that Osamu really is happier than him. That bag of regrets grows heavier on his shoulders.
He doesn't see Osamu again for another week, when he's facing off against the Jackals. His refusal to acknowledge the fact they were friends is exactly what Suna expected. What he doesn't expect is Atsumu cornering him off before the match.
“Rin, ya need to stop,” he says, arms folded over his chest. Suna leans back against the wall, picking at his cuticles in an attempt to ground himself.
“I just want to talk to him, please.” He doesn't ever ask Atsumu for anything politely unless it involves Osamu. He's certain he would try anything to talk to Osamu again.
Atsumu watches him with something akin to annoyance. It's interesting, really, how similar the twins are. While Atsumu is the one who is more open about his emotions, any anger is left to simmer under his skin until he knows the whole situation. Osamu is the one who stays guarded until his anger bursts out of him like an explosion.
Unluckily for Suna, Atsumu knows everything about the situation, and he's still pissed at him.
“No, I told ya before, and I'll tell ya again. Leave my brother alone.” It's like he makes himself taller, and Suna can't help but picture his father as Atsumu seemingly towers over him. “If ya upset him again, I'm not forgivin’ ya this time.”
Suna winces, looks down at his feet. His nails dig crescent moons into his palms. “Trust me, I wouldn't either.” He ducks under Atsumu's arm and retreats down the hall, levelling out his breathing as best as he can.
The memories begin to recede, but refuse to leave him.
⤵︎
On a particularly rainy day in Spring, Suna and Kouji sit under the bus stop outside of their school’s gates. They both forgot their umbrellas, so Suna’s dad has offered to pick them both up.
It's been just over a year since he decided he wasn't going to be gay. Having his father hate him is a fear that fails to leave him alone. The thought follows him around like a persistent fly, buzzing around his head until he goes crazy.
“Do you know when your dad will get here?” Kouji asks him, sticking his hand out from under the shelter. Almost immediately his uniform’s sleeve is soaked a darker shade of blue.
Suna shakes his head, watching Kouji wring the water out his sleeve. “He just said to wait.” The rain on the shelter thunders loudly over his voice, he moves his gaze to Kouji's face.
His best friend nods, hopping up onto one of the seats. “‘Kay. Kinda sucks we can't play in the rain.” He pouts, eyebrows scrunched together, until a devious grin takes over his face, he turns to Suna with bright eyes. “We should go splash in puddles.”
“Well,” Suna trails off while he considers it, “if we get dry when we get home, we won't get sick.”
“Exactly!” Kouji jumps on the spot, grabbing Suna's hands to drag him out into the pouring rain. He doesn't resist, not when Kouji's warmth radiates into his own, cold hands. The rain falls so hard it bounces off the concrete, he laughs as Kouji drags him out into it.
Even if his hair is already plastered to his forehead, and his shirt sticks to his skin, Suna lets himself get swept up in the excitement. His socks are soaked with puddle water, his eyes permanently squinting from the water falling into them. Kouji launches himself into a puddle on the edge of the road, landing so hard water flies up into both of their eyes.
Suna wipes the water from his eyes, going over to Kouji who has his hands slapped over his face. “Bad idea, water in my eyes,” he throws his hands out forward, “Tarou help!”
“Stay still!” He shouts, diving forward to help his friend. Kouji has his eyes squeezed tight, hair falling in front of his face. He swipes his thumbs over Kouji's eyelids, before combing his fingers through his hair to push it out of the way.
If only Suna wasn't so engrossed with Kouji's dark eyes fluttering open, then maybe he would have noticed the car coming down the road towards them. He doesn't though, and he slowly leans in until he presses a soft kiss on his best friend’s forehead.
A car door slams shut, Suna has barely any time to look up before a palm connects harshly with his cheek. He falls back down onto the concrete, his cheek burning a hot red, hands stinging from the concrete. Tears slip from the corners of his eyes.
Kouji startles, flinching back from his father's towering form. His eyes move to Suna, who's cowering back on the ground, cupping his cheek. “T-tarou,” he stutters out, hands twitching like he wants to reach out.
His father turns to Kouji, “get in the car please.”
Suna watches Kouji run to the car, he wipes away the mix of tears and rain, and swallows down his blubbering sobs. “Dad, I'm- I'm sorry,” he heaves pathetically, wrapping his arms around himself. His cheek still stings, the pain throbbing out into his entire face.
Why would he do that? He knows being gay is wrong, it's disgusting and he should never do that with a boy. His dad will hate him forever.
“Rintarou, what did I say about doing something so vile?” His father spits, grabbing his arm and pulling him roughly to his feet.
“That, I shouldn't be- be gay. Because-” Suna is interrupted by his father pushing him in the direction of the car. He stumbles forward, glancing back at the terrifying expression on his father's face.
“Get in the car. I will deal with you once Kouji is gone.”
Suna sits in silence throughout the entire car ride, only interrupted by his sobs when he tries to calm down. Kouji, probably too scared of what will happen if he does, doesn't speak either. It's the most afraid Suna has ever felt before, and when Kouji exits the car it becomes increasingly worse. Yet, his father doesn't do anything.
When they get home Suna runs to his room and shuts himself in, too afraid of what will happen if he stays. He curls up in front of the door, listening to his parents arguing in the next room. There's nothing specific, but he's sure he could hear the word move being thrown around.
And surely enough, three days later, Suna is in his new house watching as his parents unpack his things in his new bedroom. He didn't even get the chance to say goodbye to Kouji. He can't even write a letter, his father never told him the address.
It's all his fault, Suna thinks as he avoids his father's scathing glares. If only he hadn't done that, then he would still be at home in Tokyo. He's a disappointment to his family like his dad has said. Everything turned out the way it did because he decided to be gay.
Suna is the reason his family had to move across the country.
“It's for business reasons,” they say. “So your father has more opportunities,” they say. But Suna knows.
He is the one that ruined everything.
He shouldn't have done that. Kissing Kouji, even if it was only on his forehead, was wrong. He embarrassed himself and his parents. Kissing a boy when he's a boy is wrong. He isn't gay, it's bad, he's not bad.
⤵︎
Suna knows it's selfish, finally wanting to talk to Osamu after so long, when all he did was ignore him. He knows, yet he still tries to get his attention. His latest attempt includes messaging the people who are closest to Osamu, and the ones most likely to ignore him.
Atsumu is clearly off the table, so he tries Akaashi first, who politely shuts him down. Not surprising, considering he knows everything Suna did to Osamu. He tries Aran next, a fellow old teammate, but obviously closer to Osamu than Suna could ever hope to be. The man calls him two minutes after the text was sent, calmly explaining exactly what Suna’s actions put Osamu through, and why Aran doesn't want it to happen again. That bag of regrets grows heavier.
Even Kita doesn't help, wishing him the best of luck in moving on before leaving him on read.
Just as Suna becomes desperate enough to ask Komori for Sakusa’s number, Osamu confronts him.
It happens after a particularly gruelling practice, his energy sapped out of him, feet weighted down to the ground with lead. The sun has already set, leaving him stumbling down the street with only the pale streetlight to guide him. He almost bumps into the person standing outside of his door, keys jingling as he turns the lock.
“Sorry, I–” Suna pauses, meets Osamu's dark eyes and swallows down whatever idiotic thing he was about to say.
Osamu seems to consider something, crossing his arms and gaze turning icy. “I heard you've been asking around for my number.” His voice doesn't reveal anything.
All Suna can do in his current state is nod dumbly, “uh, yeah.”
With a long sigh, Osamu drops the defensiveness, like he's taking pity on Suna for the pathetic mess that he's become. The pinprick of irritation at that thought gets pushed down. “Fine, I'll hear ya out.” He turns on his heel, facing away from Suna yet not walking away. “But don't expect me to act all buddy-buddy with ya right off the bat.”
“Okay.”
With that, he begins walking. Suna stumbles after him.
They walk in silence for what feels like years. Suna isn't sure if he's actually meant to be following Osamu, or if he's acting like a total creep. Their steps echo in the street, being the only thing stopping Suna from spiralling into overthinking. He feels the invisible weights drag him down, Osamu's back moves further away.
No, he can't lose him again. No no no. He's already fucked up once. Not again.
His breath catches in his throat, tongue growing heavy as he reaches out a hand. Fingers barely reach fabric, tips brushing it but unable to grasp. Tears gather in the corners of his eyes.
Further away. No, he can't, not yet.
Then, Osamu stops, Suna slams into his back. Warm light from a cafe filters through the blinds onto the street. He steps back and rubs at his eyes to hide any proof of his oncoming tears. It's so stupid, how worked up he could make himself over something that shouldn't. He's the one that fucked Osamu over, not the other way round. Suna doesn't deserve to even try and get him back.
“We have forty minutes before it closes,” Osamu says quietly, before walking into the building. The door almost shuts on Suna as he scrambles through.
They order drinks and sit down at a table in the back corner, as far as possible from any other people. As soon as Suna sits down he feels nausea take over, burning his insides and turning his stomach in on itself. He asked for this, he can't run away now.
Ten long, silent minutes go by. Suna blows on his lukewarm coffee and takes small sips just to give himself something to do other than fixate on the silence. Four times he makes eye contact with Osamu and looks away awkwardly. What is wrong with him?
“A few things, actually,” Osamu mumbles around the rim of his mug. He doesn't look phased by Suna’s incompetence at starting the conversation. Probably because he had to deal with the exact same thing in high school. Fuck, he's a terrible person. Why would he try and make things better? It wasn't even for Osamu's benefit, it was for him.
Before Suna spirals, Osamu speaks up again.
“So what do ya want? Since you were so desperate to contact me after so long.” He almost sounds bored, and if Suna wasn't close with Osamu in high school he wouldn't have recognised the undercurrent of resentment that lies underneath.
Suna’s grip involuntarily tightens on his mug, his gaze instinctively falling to his lap at the recognition of aggravation. “I uh, I am really sorry.” He finds that words leave him, unable to find the correct thing to say to make the situation better.
Instead of making it better, his words seem to have the opposite effect. Osamu's brow twitches, his lips curling into a frown. “You're sorry? Sorry won't just erase everythin’ I felt, ya know?”
He hunches further over his mug, leg bouncing. “I know. I, I was being a coward I– it's just that, I found out you liked me back and–”
“No, okay, stop. Liked me back? So ya liked me that whole time?” Despite the man lowering his voice, it grows in intensity, practically dripping with venom. “Now, I don't know much, but I sure as hell know you don't fuckin’ ignore yer crush when they say they like you.”
With his heart pounding in his ears, Suna squeezes his eyes shut. “Samu, I just–” his voice becomes strained in his attempt to stay quiet, he manages to fold further in on himself.
“I'm not gonna listen. Not when I'm furious at you, ‘cause that's clearly not doin’ ya any favours.” Suna hears the sound of the chair screech on the floor, he winces. “I might text ya, I might not.”
As Osamu leaves, Suna listens to his footsteps grow quieter, to the door of the cafe opening and closing. He stands up on weak legs, forcing himself to stay calm and ignore the people watching as he walks out. The dark is a perfect cover for the tears that manage to escape, but it doesn't hide his staggered breaths.
He barely makes it into his apartment before he loses all composure, collapsing to his knees and clutching tightly at his chest. The sounds of his gasping breaths echo around him, his vision blurring. “No, no, no, no, no..” His ears ring loudly, the sounds around him blurring together and drowning him.
Any attempt to calm himself down fails. Phantom pains wrap around his wrists, palm outlines on his cheeks, they burn on his skin. He needs to get up, to stop. For it all to stop. Everything hurts. He just wants everything to be like it used to be. Fuck. He wants to feel normal again.
⤵︎
Suna keeps his distance from everyone in middle school. He becomes the weird kid that sits alone during breaks. He takes up volleyball as a way to avoid being that lonely kid, his teammates try to avoid him outside of practice. The meaner ones in his grade giggle at him and find different ways to make his day a living hell. Not that his life already wasn't.
His father travels for his job now, only returning home for a week or two every few months. Those weeks are the ones Suna dreads the most. The pent up anger he comes home with leaves Suna scrambling for support from friends he no longer has. Not since primary school.
Instead, volleyball becomes his support. He will stay as long as he can after school, practicing spikes against a wall and testing how far he can take his flexibility.
He misses Kouji, every night he lays awake and wishes to go back to his hometown. Everything would be better once he goes back.
At first, he thought high school would be the same. He goes to a school as hard to get accepted into as possible, lucking out by being scouted for their volleyball team. But people don't care as much in high school, especially one guy sitting at the front of his class who was caught falling asleep three times on the first day.
That guy turns out to be Osamu Miya, who becomes a completely different person during volleyball. They gravitate towards each other, both being smart but lazy, with lukewarm feelings towards the world.
Thoughts of his father keep him awake most nights, wondering how to keep Osamu close but distant enough that nothing bad could happen. He won't get another crush on a boy. No, it's bad. But it's been years since Suna has had any proper friendships with anyone, and at times he can't help but crave for more closeness.
During his visits, his father brings back small gifts from where he's travelled to. Almost like a shitty apology for what he's done to Suna over the years. Suna still spends most of his time outside of the house when he's there, hanging out with the people who are slowly becoming friends.
It happens at some point during his second year. Suna is Osamu's best friend, so it's obvious he would notice the slight change in his attitude. There's not a huge difference, just subtle changes in his demeanour when he's around Suna that actually make him a little cuter than the gross, sweaty sixteen year old he actually is. Like the pink tint to his cheeks, and the small offering of food he keeps bringing. He pushes it to the side though, and allows himself to become closer to his best friend.
Only just before Nationals does Suna realise that, despite his efforts, he's developed a crush on his best friend.
The second years are all together in the Miya’s kitchen with mugs of hot chocolate to fight off the cold. Gin says something to make everyone laugh. Osamu, who is drinking while it happens, tries to hold in his laughter. The liquid bubbles out between his lips, trickling down his chin, until he breaks. Hot chocolate explodes through his nose, his loud shout caught between pain and mirth.
Everyone else screeches in disgust or laughs at the sight. Suna gazes at him fondly, at the disgusting mix of hot chocolate and snot covering his face and shirt, and thinks, I cannot believe I actually love you.
And just like that, reality slams into him. His head spins, the yelling and laughter blurring together in his ears. He feels his stomach lurch and he runs to the bathroom, his body working on muscle memory to get him there. And just in time he drops to his knees, spilling the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.
Osamu, despite having hot chocolate pour from his nose not a moment before, appears at his side. His hand rubs circles on his back, Suna looks up to see the other one is holding a tissue to soak up the hot chocolate from inside his nose. He can't help but smile at the sight.
“Y’okay, Rin?” Osamu asks him, brows furrowing together with worry. Suna feels his stomach fill with butterflies, it doesn't cooperate very well with the nausea, and he rolls his head back over to the bowl.
He can't have a crush on his best friend. He just can't.
Those feelings don't leave him.
⤵︎
Months go by, Osamu doesn't text him. Suna spends every day staring at his device, waiting for an unknown number to send him a message. He hasn't changed his number since high school, either Osamu will still remember it or he will ask for it from Atsumu.
(“Why do you want to memorise my number? They're saved to our phones so we don't have to.”
Osamu, curled up in a blanket and reading intently from his phone screen, looks up. “Because Rin, I just want to. I already remember Tsumu’s and Aran’s number.”)
Thinking back on that particular memory, Suna understands why Osamu decided to memorise his phone number then. Even if it is a happy one, the fact he no longer has that hurts.
It's June when he finally receives a text from Osamu, with a date, time and location. Seeing it makes him jump up, a noise bubbling from the back of his throat. Even if he’s never been more nervous, the chance to finally explain himself and give Osamu some closure makes him excited.
He meets him in the evening again, just after the Tokyo branch of Onigiri Miya closes. When he pushes open the door to the restaurant, he’s greeted to the sight of Osamu diligently mopping the floor.
Like a switch has been flipped, he's thrown back into that nervous shell at the speed of light. His words stay stuck when Osamu looks up and meets his gaze. “Rin.” The sound of the familiar nickname leaving Osamu's lips makes his knees weak. He stumbles over to the front to sit on a stool.
“Hi,” he chokes out, grabbing the edge of his sleeve in his fist.
Suna sits in silence for the remainder of the time Osamu spends cleaning, almost enraptured by the elegance he manages to pull it off with. Soon enough, Osamu is sitting on the stool next to his, leaning forward onto the counter. “Just wanna say I'm sorry ‘bout stormin’ off.”
“Wait, what?” Suna shakes his head, too surprised to feel any worry. “You don't need to apologise at all.”
“No, really,” Osamu says softly, leaning his cheek on his palm. He runs his eyes over the menu. “I shouldn't’ve gotten mad and ran off. I'm sure ya had yer reasons for not tellin’ me.”
Hearing it come from Osamu, Suna feels like it’s a very childish situation. He frowns, picking at his cuticles. Everything could have been fine if he'd just told Osamu, Atsumu was actually right. “That's actually quite mature of you,” he jokes softly, hoping to fight away his negative thoughts.
“That is what happens when ya grow up.”
“Sorry,” Suna mumbles, twiddling his thumbs in his lap, “you probably want an explanation.”
Osamu leans further into his hand, humming as dark eyes watch Suna’s every move. “Yeah, sorta.” His voice remains as monotone as ever.
Okay, Suna thinks, taking a deep breath, tell him now or tell him never. It shouldn’t be as hard as Suna’s finding it, his words getting stuck in the back of his throat and thoughts a mess. Osamu shifts in the seat next to him, Suna pushes down his fear.
“Well I,” no that sounds wrong, “you see,” no no. He shakes his head, pulling on his fingers so hard they pop. “I just, everything was so- no, no that's wrong.”
While he stumbles through his words, Osamu stays calm, watches him as he tells him about Kouji. He doesn't say anything when Suna talks about his father, about how he felt when he found out he actually had a crush on him. Somehow, telling it to Osamu himself is harder than Atsumu ever told him it would be. It was also so much easier to tell Atsumu, even if he was generally an asshole.
“I don't know what Atsumu told you about my side of the story, but he tried to get me to tell you. Wouldn't stop badgering me about it for months when he found out.” He shakes off the numbness in his hands, feeling a frustrated scoff escape his lips. “You know, he didn't have a clue you had feelings for me. Spent the whole time telling me to stop being a coward. He was right, I shouldn't have been a coward. Especially when I found out.”
He was afraid to think of what would have happened.
When he finally gains the courage to even think of looking Osamu in the eye, he sees something unknown swimming in his old friend’s eyes. Suna expects him to shout, to get angry, anything that would prove to Suna that every way this could go wrong will.
Except, that's not what happens. Osamu narrows his eyes, his lingering gaze making Suna wince. Then. “Let's get drunk.”
What?
“What?”
Osamu stands up, as if to solidify his point, “let's get drunk.”
It's not exactly an explicit I forgive you, but it's a step forward. A small shred of hope dropped into Suna’s pit of despair.
He nods, still perplexed by the situation as a whole. “Okay, uh. Yeah.”
⤵︎
Atsumu catches on not even a week into his discovery.
He takes two sick days, consisting of Suna curled up in bed having an existential crisis. His mother, while she worries over him, sends him back to school after he doesn't show any other signs of illness. Like usual, he meets the twins at the entrance, watches Osamu's eyes light up and Atsumu's gaze lock in on him.
Unnerving, but whatever it is Suna’s prepared for it. That's what he tells himself anyway.
Sadly, he's mistaken. While Osamu is engrossed in talking about a new recipe he wants to try out, Atsumu snags Suna’s sleeve and drags him around a corner, into an empty classroom. He traps Suna in one of the far corners, hands on his hips and a calculating gleam in his eyes. It's only slightly intimidating.
“You've got a crush on my brother.”
Okay, maybe it's extremely intimidating. With his newfound secret just out in the open. How the everloving fuck did Atsumu even find out?
Oh god, Atsumu knows he's gay. No no no no, what if he tells his father? What if he outs him? Everything will be like middle school again, he'll be made an outcast again but with even more hate thrown at him. Fuck fuck.
He needs to go. Needs to leave, right now. Fuck, everything is ruined. His father was right, he's right and Suna doesn't deserve to exist, fuck. Why now? Why Osamu?
A hand comes down on his shoulder. His father. Fuck. He knows he knows he knows. It's all ruined. He's going to make Suna move again, away from his friends. His family.
“Sunarin, calm the fuck down! Ya look like yer about to pass out.”
Suna rips his shoulder from the grip, falling down onto the floor and wrapping his arms around his knees. Fuck. He's fine, he's fine. No one is here. No. Just Atsumu.
Just Atsumu.
He lifts his head up. The blond is hovering, arms waving around and face contorting like he doesn't know how to act. It helps him calm down a little, the thought that Atsumu looks like an idiot right now. A quiet snort escapes him.
“Hey! What’re ya laughin’ at? Yer freakin’ out freaked me out!” Atsumu pouts, drops to the floor to join him. “Yer an ass, Sunarin.”
The ache in his head doesn't leave, but his pounding heart slows to a steady thump, the heat under his skin fades. He appreciates that it was Atsumu who saw him, as much of an asshole as he is. Atsumu cares.
Suna takes in a deep breath, letting his muscles relax. “I suppose you want to know what that was about.”
“Duh.”
What a nosy bastard.
“So, you were right about me.. liking your brother.” He sends Atsumu a glare before he has the chance to make a smug comment. His response is to stick his tongue out like the mature teenager he is.
Suna tells Atsumu about everything. Ride or die really, and considering Atsumu did just watch him have a panic attack, there's no point in hiding everything. Might as well just dump all of his trauma on him now while he wants to know.
Atsumu takes it surprisingly well. He knows he can't do a thing about anything from the past, and doesn't apologise like some people probably would if they were told. Maybe that's what makes Atsumu a good person to tell. Suna can't help but grin.
Tapping his chin like he's some wise philosopher, Atsumu hums, “ya know Sunarin, I think ya should date Samu.”
“Yeah, no that's not on the table.”
“But Sunarin!” It comes out as a whine that grates Suna’s eardrums. He winces. “What if Samu marries someone gross and I'm stuck with a boring sibling in law? At least if it's you, yer slightly less gross.”
For that comment, Atsumu gets slapped across the head. Of course, that is also the moment Osamu walks in and finds the two of them crouched in the corner like idiots.
They both turn to him, Atsumu sulking and Suna schooling an expression of nonchalantly. “What are ya both doin’?”
“Hard drugs.”
Osamu shrugs, taking Suna's answer with stride. “Since ya left me to take drugs, yer food privileges have been revoked.”
Atsumu screeches and throws himself at Osamu, “Samu ya can't do that to me, I'll go hungry without yer cooking!”
“Get food from Ma, ya greedy bastard!”
Just like that, all of Suna’s worries melt away to the back of his mind. He pulls out his phone to make sure he catches the look on Atsumu's face when Osamu swings his bag at him.
His peace doesn't last long though, because Atsumu remembers to pester him about Osamu. He follows Suna home, yapping in his ear about how he should ask Osamu out, and how disgustingly cute yer gonna be together. It's almost like having a fly in his ear, and no matter how many sticks and rocks he throws at it, the fly won't leave.
Everyday Atsumu comes up to him with a new idea for dates with Osamu.
(“An all ya can eat place, come on Sunarin!”
“What about a walk in the park with ice cream?”
“Ya might not know it, but Samu’s a big sap. Take him on a stargazing date.”)
Suna’s really impressed with the patience he has when Atsumu appears in his line of sight.
Dating Osamu is a faraway thought. There's no way he's in the right mindset to date, and if they broke up there is a high chance it would just be awkward and ruin everything. Instead he will exist with his crush. Only Atsumu will know, there's no need for it to spread around any further.
He's Osamu's best friend, and that won't change. No matter how much Atsumu tries to tell him that he can't be Osamu's best friend anymore because yer so deeply in love with him Sunarin!
⤵︎
Three shots in and he can already feel that familiar haze coating his brain. Osamu's already two shots ahead, and chugging some fruity looking cocktail to the left of him.
The bartender who is serving them looks mildly concerned. Suna is too, he has no idea how good Osamu's alcohol tolerance is. From the way he's drinking though, he's doing it like he's got a hell of a one.
They've been at the bar for twenty minutes at most. At this rate they will leave in an hour, forgetting the whole thing ever happened.
Surely they had to cut him off. Surely. Because Suna doesn't know where or how he's going to get a plastered Osamu home when he'll probably be drunk too. He tries to avoid drinking when possible, blah blah athletes need to keep themselves healthy blah blah, keep bad thoughts at bay blah blah. Just the normal things that stopped someone from drinking too much.
But it means that his tolerance isn't too great, and there's so many ways the night could go wrong if they drank anymore.
That clearly didn't stop them. Suna and Osamu have always had one another under each other's thumb (not that they ever noticed in high school) and that isn't much different now. Osamu slides over a drink, pointedly stares at Suna until he drinks it. And that's how much of the night goes.
There's one moment where they slow down, where Osamu watches the ice cubes in his new drink spin around the glass. “Y’know how long I had a crush on ya for?” He mumbles softly, almost entranced, like he's not noticing anything around him. “I said in the letter…”
“Since the start of our second year,” Suna nods, biting the inside of his cheek. He doesn't say anything else, too afraid of what he will say in the state he's in.
Osamu hums, body swerving around in a slow circle before coming to lean his elbows on the bar. “Mm, yeah. I didn't.. tell y’bout the dream.” The end of the sentence turns into soft giggles, he takes a sip from his drink. “Almost every night I would start dreaming of us ya know, it was always the same. Beach. You. Sunset.”
It's like a fever dream to listen to him explain it all, to hear the affectionate tone slip through. Suna doesn't take his eyes off him, doesn't dare make a sound in case he spooks him from whatever trance he's in.
Osamu sits up, swaying a little as he gazes at Suna. “I really do miss being yer friend, ya know?” There's less of a carelessness to him now, smile dropping and voice turning more melancholy.
“Me too. I, I am sorry, really.” Suna feels the slur in his voice, the speed they drank at was not good for them in any way. “I shouldn't have ignored you, I shouldn't’ve avoided you for the rest of the year. I should have grown the fuck up and talked to you like a normal person instead of acting like a coward.
“It's just, I don't know. You were there and it terrified me. And. I didn't want to ruin things but I managed it anyway.”
Osamu huffs softly, holding out his glass. “I said it before. But ya hurt me a lot, and it may take a while for things to be back to the way they were but.. friends?”
Suna hesitates, sucking in a sharp breath. “Are you.. are you sure?” At Osamu’s nod, he spares a shaky smile and clinks their glasses together. They drink.
And they drink.
And drink some more.
Until Suna wakes up the next morning in an unfamiliar bed.