Work Text:
“Does it hurt?”
Rintarou opens his eyes, squinting up at Atsumu from where his head is resting on his lap. A wince escapes his mouth as the carriage they’re in suffers through a particularly rough jostle. His fingers reflexively press harder against his wound. “Huh?”
“Does it hurt?” Atsumu repeats, staring at where Rintarou knows his shirt is soaked with blood. His eyebrows are pinched together, a curious look on his face. He knows he wasn’t asking it to be mean. No, he was asking it because he genuinely wanted to know. Rintarou doesn’t really know whether that makes it any better.
“You tell me,” he replies, spitting the words out as another jolt of pain sparked through him. “There’s an arrow sticking out of me. What does it look like?”
Atsumu looks away, sheepish. He doesn’t apologize. He never does, but he let Rintarou grip his hand harder as the carriage rode over yet another stony path and maybe that was enough.
“We’ll be there soon,” Atsumu tells him.
Those were the last words he heard before he lost consciousness.
Rintarou’s day started out like any other day, with the sounds of birds chirping through the window and the sun rays splaying across his bedroom floor.
No, wait, that was a lie.
It had started out with Atsumu knocking on his door before opening it up and letting himself in as if he owned the place. He did, but that was beside the point. And like any other day, Atsumu then proceeded to pull the covers off of him.
“If yer goin’ ta laze around,” he scowled, standing over him, “ya might as well go back to yer stupid lil’ mansion. Yer sister would welcome ya back with open arms.”
“My sister thinks I’m dead,” Rintarou groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes. “You know that.”
Atsumu didn’t reply right away. Rintarou almost thought he wouldn’t. He peaked at him from under the arm, studying the expression on Atsumu’s face. He was dressed in robes—shades of grey and a cloak as red as blood, the color of House Miya—befitting his title, that of a lordling with a little too much power on his hands.
“Look,” Atsumu sighed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, “ya did what ya had to do. And I swore to ya that I’d make sure she’d be cared for, that no harm would come to her. I don’t break my promises, Rin. Now get up, we gotta big day ahead.”
Rintarou yawned, sitting up and stretching his limbs. Atsumu was already halfway to the door when Rintarou called out to him. “When the Sun goes down?”
“When the Sun goes down,” Atsumu confirmed with a quick glance back over his shoulder before he left, leaving the door open in his wake.
Five hours later, Rintarou was on the royal grounds, crouched at the edge of the roof of the Northern tower, overlooking the grand outdoor dinner set up in honor of the young Prince’s day of birth. Using the shadows as a cover of darkness, he waited for the right moment to strike, the eyepiece on his crossbow serving as a way to view the festivities below.
Two hours later and Atsumu was hoisting him into the carriage, away from the ruckus as they made their escape. Rintarou had been seen, an arrow in his side paying the price for it. The exits into and out of the city had been sealed. The harbor was being watched.
Rintarou had no idea where Atsumu planned on taking him. Atsumu, for his part, had been particularly tight-lipped about it. Not that Rintarou gave it much thought given that he had more pressing matters to attend to, such as the quite literal thorn in his side.
All he knew that whatever Atsumu had in mind was a ‘last resort’.
When Rintarou was younger, his father was appointed as the Master of Coin. He had accompanied his father to the Royal Courts, leaving his mother and sister behind to run the ancestral seat of House Suna in their absence.
“It’ll be an experience,” his father had told him. “You’ll be able to learn from the best in the land. Pretty good opportunity, don’t you think? It’d be a waste to miss out on it.”
A sound argument, sure. It was a shame Rintarou didn’t care about that. The sole reason he had agreed to come along was to be able to see the city. He had heard stories from the other boys, of the grandeur of the Red Keep and the sights of King’s Landing. He wanted to see them for himself.
The first six months were spent in blissful ignorance. Rintarou was tutored under the King’s chosen maesters, practiced his combat skills under the eyes of the Royal Instructor, all of which was alongside the eldest Prince himself. He didn’t question how weary his father had begun to look with each passing day. It was probably the workload of having to take care and keep track of the finances for the entire kingdom.
On the tenth month, his father got tried for treason. His father had already made arrangements to send Rintarou back home as if he had known this was coming all along. Three days after Rintarou had fled from King’s Landing, his father was arrested.
Rintarou never saw him again.
Three years later, House Suna’s stronghold was under siege. A move specifically made to curb the rebellion against the then ruling monarch that was gaining momentum.
To protect his sister, Rintarou was forced to fake his death.
Despite sticking to the shadows, picking up a new identity, and keeping a low profile, Lord Atsumu of House Miya had no problem seeking him out. The fact still managed to annoy Rintarou. He had done his absolute best to stay incognito and not bring any attention to himself, yet somehow he’d been found out. Rintarou didn’t want to think about what would have happened to him if it had been anyone else other than Atsumu.
“We should join forces,” Atsumu had told him. “We’ve the same goal. We can work out the details. It’s a win-win. Ya get yer revenge and... I’ll get what I want.”
And so their little ‘contract’ began. Atsumu used his position and power to gather intel while Rintarou handled the dirty work, putting the stealth and combat skills he’d picked up to use.
Rintarou wakes up to water being splashed on his face. He can feel hands on his back, a tug on his arm as someone attempts to pull him out of the carriage while he struggles to stay conscious.
“Omimi, make sure no one’s comin’,” Atsumu hisses, somewhere above Rintarou. “We’re gonna hafta carry him out.”
Atsumu manages to hoist him off of the seat and the sudden movement makes Rintarou black out again.
The next time he comes to, his feet are being dragged underneath him as Atsumu hauls him across the road, towards whatever destination he has in mind. Rintarou can’t recognize the area they’re in. It’s surprisingly quiet. Quiet enough that the shouts from the City’s Watch guards can be heard in the distance as they conducted their search.
Atsumu grunts as he shifts Rintarou’s arm, “Why the fuck are ya so damn heavy?”
“Sorry,” Rintarou mumbles, trying to gain his footing. He shifts his weight only to trip and would’ve pulled Atsumu down with him if Atsumu hadn’t been fast enough to grab onto him.
“Oops,” Rintarou laughs, the sound weak to his ears. It turns into a strangled whine as pain seizes through him.
Atsumu swears under his breath, looking around them to see if they were being watched, before tightening his grip and taking most of Rintarou’s weight onto himself. “Gotcha, it’s okay.”
They hurry along as fast as they can, taking a turn into a dark alleyway. The City Watch seems to be getting closer to where they currently are. Give it three minutes and they certainly would be upon them. Rintarou is about to voice his thoughts out, either warning Atsumu or to tell him he should probably leave him behind, when Atsumu shoulders open one of the back doors and steps inside.
The smell of alcohol is overwhelming. It makes Rintarou want to gag. From what he can see, they are in a cellar of some sort, most likely one of some tavern that is using it as a storage unit for their drinks. He briefly wonders why a tarven would risk having the door to their storage room open like that. Wouldn’t someone steal their stock?
A door creaks open above them, spilling light into the room from the gap. A head pops out, looking down at them. Funny how that works, Rintarou muses. They’ve barely stepped foot in the place and they’d already been found out. Maybe that was why they didn’t bother locking the door. Perhaps they had a deal with the City Watch. Free drinks for locking away potential thieves. Prospering business. And now they were next.
He should’ve told Atsumu to leave him behind. He is nothing but a burden, if Atsumu was caught seen with him then he’d get tried for treason too and—.
“Figured you’d be showin’ up here,” the man says, crossing his arms as he leans on the railing. “Was startin’ to think ya wouldn’t be able to make it.”
What the fuck?
“Don’t jus’ stand there,” Atsumu scowls. “Get down here and help. He’s heavy.”
Is Atsumu selling him off to the authorities? Is that what this is? After everything they’ve been through? Had Rintarou truly been stupid enough to consider him a friend? To trust him?
“Now, now, ‘Tsumu,” the stranger says, walking down the stairs towards them. He reaches up to tug the string of a lamp, lighting the room up properly. “Didn’t Ma tell ya to be polite—Oh, that does not look good.”
“No shit,” Atsumu mutters under his breath. “Is the kit where it used to be?”
“Yea,” the man answers, slinging Rintarou’s arm over his shoulder as Atsumu steps away. “Go, I’ll be sure to wake up Akagi.”
Rintarou does not know who Akagi is. He does not know if he’ll ever wake up tomorrow. Nor does he know about the amount of blood he has lost. He definitely doesn’t know if he’ll see his sister ever again. But what he does know is that his eyes are definitely playing tricks on him because there’s no way there are two Miya Atsumus.
Maybe, his time has come.
When Rintarou finally wakes up, he does not wake up to the sound of angels singing at the gates of heaven. Nor does he wake up to devils cackling as he drowns in fire and lava in the pits of hell. No, this time when he wakes up, he wakes up in a room he’s never been in before with a heavy blanket thrown over him. And a splitting headache as if someone had slammed his skull with a claymore.
He’s alive, he realizes with a jolt. Alive and in pain, but still alive. He’ll live. He’ll see his sister again. Hopefully.
Rintarou pushes the blanket off of him, the movement taking more effort than required. The cold air hits his skin, causing goosebumps to rise and making him shiver. Oh, he’s not wearing a tunic. Huh. His torso is wrapped up in bandages, covering the injury he had. He skims his fingers over the bindings, the texture coarse against his touch.
“Guess it wasn’t just a bad dream after all,” he says to himself. He’s not sure how he feels about that, but it means that he’s fine for now and that wherever he is currently is probably another one of Atsumu’s safe houses. The perks of being a mildly attractive rich little lordling perhaps.
And speaking— thinking —of the devil, the door to Rintarou’s room opens as the man himself enters, and promptly enough, the greeting of ‘Hey Atsumu’ dies down in his throat as he realizes that, “You’re not Atsumu.”
It is the same stranger from yesterday. The one Rintarou was so sure was a product of him hallucinating because there was no way there was someone else with the exact same face as Atsumu. Though, on a closer look with a more coherent mind, Rintarou can see the differences, subtle as they may be. The man in front of him has darker hair, parted to the side opposite to what Atsumu does. He is also sure Atsumu would have snapped at him by now for sitting up in bed and not getting dressed instead. He certainly would not be smiling at Rintarou in mild amusement as if his cluelessness was somehow… endearing.
“No, I’m not,” the man agrees.
“You look like Atsumu.”
The man chuckles, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “Unfortunately. Though, I’d like to think I wear it better.”
“Are you two related?”
“Twins,” He replies. “Now, how’re ya feelin’?”
“Sore.”
The man laughs and Rintarou thinks it's single-handedly the most charming sound he’s ever heard. And then he thinks about how he’d like to hear it again.
“Well,” Atsumu’s brother clears his throat, “would you like something to eat?”
With a jolt, Rintarou registers that he has been staring at him. “Yeah, sure.”
Atsumu’s letter comes in the next day, waiting for Rintarou on the table near the open window in his temporary bedroom.
As Rintarou opens the scroll, gently tugging the string that kept it in place, a folded parchment falls out from within. He raises an eyebrow in its direction before flattening out the paper.
It’s a wanted poster. For him. His wanted poster.
WANTED:
A suspicious individual with dark hair, last seen fleeing away from the Red Keep, possibly injured. Highly dangerous, proceed with caution. DO NOT ENGAGE.
Any information leading to the arrest of this person shall be duly rewarded.
There is a massive question mark where his portrait would’ve been. They don’t know who he is. That’s a relief.
The folded parchment is a note from Atsumu, written in his trademark messy scrawl.
Thought you’d like to see that. You’ve probably heard about the announcement already. Keep your head down. DON’T step out until you’re completely healed. If there’s anything you need tell my brother. They won’t search up his place, I’ve made sure of it. I’ll keep you updated. Burn this.
Atsumu’s twin goes by Osamu. Miya Osamu. Rintarou likes him. A lot.
In the past week, Rintarou came to learn a great deal about him. He’s the younger twin. He was disowned from the family, ripped of his titles, when he declared he’d rather spend his life cooking. That ultimately cut him off the House Miya income, forcing him to support himself. But, business has been decent, blooming even, and there’s pride in his tone when he tells Rintarou how most people come back for his food instead of the drinks.
“Why a tavern though?” Rintarou had asked.
“It wasn’t my initial plan,” Osamu admitted, “But, ‘Tsumu suggested it so it’d be easier for him to come by without raisin’ suspicions.”
That was all Osamu said on the matter, changing the topic right after. Rintarou got the idea that the twins were barred from seeing each other. Was that why Atsumu had never mentioned Osamu’s existence to him? To keep him safe? Why his expression has always been tinged with sadness and an emotion unnamed whenever Rintarou brought up his sister? Because he understood more than Rintarou ever realized?
As the days went on there were other things he noted. Most of them related to Osamu’s sense of humor and how it almost rivaled Atsumu’s. Despite coming off as the ‘better’ twin, he was as competitive as Atsumu and nearly as impulsive.
He was easy to talk to too; conversation flowing smoothly between them and even when it wasn’t, basking in each other's presence was equally as comfortable.
Also, Osamu has nice arms and Rintarou quite liked watching him when he worked.
Rintarou sits at the edge of his bed as Osamu unwraps the bandages from his injury. His wound had closed up, the area around it an angry shade of purple. Osamu’s fingertips graze against his skin as he inspects it, causing Rintarou to shiver from the coldness of them.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Osamu mutters as he sits back on his heels to look up at him. “Yer skin’s sensitive around there since yer still healin’. In fact, I think it’s been healin’ pretty well.”
“But?” Rintarou prompts, sensing that Osamu has more to say.
“But,” Osamu says, gaze lingering on the wound before turning his attention back to Rintarou, “ya won’t be able to play vigilante until it does completely.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Rintatou smiles, leaning back and letting his hands support his weight.
“Really?” Osamu asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he raises an eyebrow at him. “Yer goin’ to be on bed rest for an undetermined period of time. No doin’ anything that’d strain the stitches. ‘Nd no goin’ outside until you heal.”
“Sounds like paradise. I’ll sit here, pretty just for you.”
It is admittedly a little too late for Rintarou to realize the implications of what he’d just said. He watches in abject horror as the faintest of blushes spreads across Osamu’s cheeks to the tip of his ears. He's still sitting on his heels in front of Rintarou, not breaking away from his stare. And all Rintarou can think of is cute. He almost misses Osamu’s reply, too busy trying to engrave this moment into his memory.
“Guess that makes me lucky then, huh?”
Oh.
Three weeks.
Three weeks pass by and Rintarou can’t tell if the shift from their regular banter to borderline flirtation was a conscious decision made by either one (or both) of them. Sure, he might have actual feelings for a certain Miya Osamu, successful owner of a tavern and extremely skilled in the kitchen but can not be trusted to change out the light bulb for the life of him, but that did nothing to diminish his problems.
No, the problem was if Osamu was even aware Rintarou was actively trying to flirt with him in an attempt to woo him. Since, Rintarou sure as hell can’t tell whether Osamu’s flirting back because he feels the same way or whether he’s pushing up the customer service charm that comes in abundance with his job.
There was also the fact that maybe, he was barely tolerating Rintarou as a favor to Atsumu. What if he didn’t like Rintarou and was only playing along because he feels sorry for him? What if he doesn’t—.
“Ya seem rather lost in thought,” Osamu remarks, taking the seat next to him on the couch. “Anything on your mind?”
“Huh?” Rintarou breaks his stare away from the fireplace to look at him.
It’s long past midnight, the tavern’s been closed for a while now. There have been curfews and restrictions placed around the area as precautionary measures since the criminal—Rintarou—has not been caught yet.
The reflection of the flames catches Osamu’s eyes and Rintarou can’t find himself looking away.
“If ya wanna talk ‘bout it, I’ll listen.”
“Ah, right,” Rintarou hastily looks away, trying to come up with a topic that would sound like something he would genuinely be mulling over into the fire and not his crisis on whether the man beside him tolerates him because it's expected of him or not. “I was just thinking about how long it’d be for the restrictions to lift.”
“Ah,” Osamu says, turning his gaze towards the fireplace. “Should be soon enough. They don’t have anything to go by. ‘Tsumu’s taken care of that.”
Rintarou can’t discern the hidden undertone in Osamu’s voice. “Yeah,” he says instead, “Atsumu’s quite good at that.”
“Sorry,” Osamu mutters to Rintarou’s surprise. “Ya don’t get much to do here. I know ya might be itchin’ to be out ‘n ‘bout.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“There’s not much for ya here,” Osamu says with a sigh, tone tinged with sadness that Rintarou can’t understand the reason for.
“There’s you,” he states because it’s true. Years of hiding in the shadows and using his skills for destruction and carnage all for a master plan of dethroning the current monarchy and replacing it with something deemed better had made Rintarou forget what it was like to have someone to eat dinner with as they talked about their day.
Osamu’s smile is filled with barely-there amusement that fails to conceal the uncertainty that is present in the curve of his mouth. It strikes Rintarou then that for all his advances, Osamu genuinely believed he was just toying with him to bid his time.
“Ya don’t mean that,” Osamu laughs, and for once, Rintarou hates the sound of it.
“Hey,” He leans forward, cupping Osamu’s face with his hand, stroking his cheek. “If it was possible for me to have known you sooner, I would’ve taken that chance any day. In fact, I guess I’m grateful I got hit with that arrow.”
“Well, aren’t ya charmin’?” Osamu smiles, tilting Rintarou’s jaw towards him.
“They do say I’m a wanted man,” Rintarou whispers, smiling as he closes the distance between them.
Osamu tastes like the cider he had to drink. He’s warm against Rintarou’s mouth, his fingers running through his hair, pulling him closer until they’re both left gasping for breath. Rintarou feels alive, the blood in his veins ignited from the way his heart sings. Osamu’s thumb brushes against his lower lip, his gazing dipping down towards it before meeting Rintarou’s.
“They might’ve a point.”
Rintarou doesn’t know what the future has in store for him. He doesn’t know when he’ll have to be on the move again. He definitely doesn’t know when he’ll be able to settle down, but for now, he has Osamu and he believes they’ll make it work regardless of what comes and that is all that matters.