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“Osamu was always the better twin, no doubt about it.”
“Osamu is not as assholish as Atsumu. That’s how you tell the difference.”
“Osamu is just simply, the better twin. He’s smarter, nicer, and kind.”
----
Being born identical twins aren’t as fun as people make it out to be, Atsumu found.
Constantly getting compared to his younger sibling, Osamu, was tiring and degrading as people always made sure to point out how bad Atsumu was, as they compared him with Osamu.
They expected Atsumu to act as some deviant, a rebel or delinquent half the time, it was frustrating to the older sibling, so damn frustrating. Other times, they expected him to act just like Osamu, as much as Osamu looks bored and deadpanned all the time, he did have a kind heart and was straightforward in the nicest way possible.
An angel, they’d say. While Atsumu was the devil. The problem child. The dumb one. Osamu’s brother.
But that wasn’t always the case. Not when people would actually look at them as one.
It made sense, really it did. The two did look alike. They did look alike, but you can bet your ass they are different. When they’d see that Atsumu was a bit louder than Osamu, they would look at him with confusion present on their face, saying ‘Why aren’t you quiet like him?’ or ‘Why don’t you act like your brother?’
It was infuriating.
It was like they wanted him to be the exact same as Osamu. To act like him, talk like him, have the same mannerisms. It made Atsumu so mad that people wanted him to act like someone he wasn’t. So mad, that he ended up hating his brother.
Hating him because Osamu set the expectation he never wanted to meet. The expectation that people put on him; constantly saying ‘be better, Atsumu. Be like him.’
There would be nights when he just stayed awake asking himself, how can he stop this? How can he be free?
Nights where he would start to question if he could ever be looked at differently from his brother Osamu. Where he would almost tear up from the frustration that he can’t be himself around others, and ones where he would quietly sob on his bunk bed as he felt like he didn’t know himself at times.
But then, when he went to school the next morning, he had seen this kid with blonde hair and it looked like they dyed it that way, Atsumu stared for a minute. Until his brain told him, that’s it. That’s how he could do it.
That’s how he could be free!
That made it worse.
Yeah, some could freely admit that blonde looked fitting on Atsumu’s hair, but others just sighed in disappointment, as he no longer looked like his brother.
“First, you don’t wanna dress alike, and now, you’ve changed your hair? Why?? You guys looked so cute looking like each other! Why change it now?”
“My mom says Atsumu is going through a phase. That he’ll snap out of it.”
Two girls comment.
“ ...going through a phase. That he’ll snap out of it.”
What does that mean? A ‘phase’? He’s just trying to separate himself from his brother who just happens to look like him, who happens to be more likable, who happens to be the ‘better twin’.
Is it something he’s doing?
It has to be.
People have been saying this for- years, he has to be the problem. No, he has to be better.
In his last year of middle school, he decided that he’d work. And he’d work hard. He has to, in volleyball, Osamu is catching up, even if there isn’t really a skill difference, he can’t let him catch up. He can’t let him get close to the finish line.
He can’t let him steal the spotlight, ever.
(As middle school ended, Atsumu’s GPA was lower than Osamu’s, his mother noted. Osamu performed better and turned in more assignments than Atsumu. She always compared the two, absentmindedly, not knowing the effects that had on the older sibling. Not knowing, that she was a part of Atsumu’s insecurity issues, just as much as others were. She didn’t know that Atsumu even had such problems. Always working his hardest to compete with Osamu. It’s cute, she noted. Sibling rivalry, a normal thing within families.)
He wasn’t good enough.
Or,
Osamu was too good.
He can’t compete with him, he would think. He never could, his mind would tell him. How could he compete with ‘All Mighty’ Osamu? It’s stupid that he even tries. Osamu’s smart and caring, while Atsumu comes off as brash and selfish as he does things to benefit himself in situations that could cater him to improving.
Always working, always practicing, his team notes.
Always trying to be better than Osamu, they note.
They also note how Atsumu practically shined when Aran had noted that he, Miya Atsumu was his favorite out of the duo!
How he gave Aran a big hug right after that sentence left his mouth. How Atsumu performed way better for a whole month straight after hearing such news to his ears.
How Atsumu looked genuinely happy that he was better than his twin brother.
It’s weird, Kita thought.
Interesting, Suna noted.
What’s he so happy about? Osamu questioned curiously.
And how is he getting so good? He thought.
Atsumu was a good person to have on the court, with his serves and just genius plays he and Osamu perform on the court. It’s amazing, Osamu thinks, even if he doesn’t show he thinks that way.
Osamu always liked how Atsumu would express himself. People would think Osamu didn’t care about anything with how deadpanned he was. He looked bored mainly, except for when he was with his twin.
He would tease him on how he sucked at volleyball, or how he was smarter than the older twin. How he would chuckle at Atsumu’s words, saying how he’d get better than he was when Osamu already know that Atsumu performed better.
In fact, if it wasn’t for his twin, he wouldn’t be motivated at all to play volleyball.
Atsumu should be looked up to, Osamu thinks. He’s a good leader; dependable and strong. Someone you should always watch.
Atsumu knows this, he thinks. Or at least he should.
They see it. Osamu sees it. The coach sees it.
Atsumu’s slipping today, they note. He’s off.
And they’re right, he feels tired, sluggish, and just… simply exhausted really.
In a couple of months, nationals are coming. A part of Atsumu’s excited because the world will know what he can do. The world will see how great he is, and how he is good, better than Osamu.
Another part of him is, anxious. What if he fucks up? Hurts himself before the game? Slumps a serve?
He knows now, he is strong, but he can’t help but not want to fail and let Osamu win, even if a few weeks ago, Osamu told him that they aren’t competing and they are working together in this. That they were twins and they could be good together and as one.
It’s still on his mind, really.
Osamu wasn’t competing with him?
Was he ever competition?
Did he even try to improve or was it natural?
If it was a natural improvement, did he even… did he even have a chance?
The ball hits his face, missing his hands completely.
He was practicing his sets, with teammates, and of course, Osamu was one. Osamu snorted, “Your sets suck, like always.” Thinking Atsumu never takes his banter personally.
“Atsumu is kinda off today…”
“Maybe we should have Osamu take his place for now.”
“Yeah, his heads are in the clouds, Osamu would stay focus.”
“His were a bit better today.”
Atsumu snarls as he picks up the ball at his feet, “Osamu this, Osamu that. Shut the hell up.” Osamu thinks it’s one of Atsumu’s normal fits, so he continues his banter, “They are right. You’ve been slow, ‘Tsumu.”
“They’re not. ‘S really pissing me off that you of all people are telling me that.”
Osamu huffs, “Jealous?”
“No. Tired? Yes.”
The ball comes flying to Atsumu’s hands again as they had gotten back into position on instinct. Atsumu sets the ball up to Ginjima, a second-year spiker. He grits his teeth as the ball didn’t even make it to the spiker’s hand.
“What are you tired of, Atsumu?”
He’s quiet as those words come back, flooding his mind.
“Osamu was always the better twin, no doubt about it.”
“Osamu is not as assholish as Atsumu. That’s how you tell the difference.”
“Osamu is just simply, the better twin. He’s smarter, nicer, and kind.”
“Maybe we should have Osamu take his place for now.”
“Yeah, his heads are in the clouds, Osamu would stay focus.”
“His were a bit better today.”
He just can’t help but respond with, “You.”
“What?” Osamu questions. Atsumu makes eye contact, and continues, “Ever since we were kids, I’ve worked my ass off to be somewhat as good as the All-Mighty Osamu. Studied hard, played hard. Everything I could to be somewhat comparable to you.”
Osamu’s eyes widen as he straightens, “You don’t take that seriously, do you? The better twin thing”
“Was it a joke?”
“Yeah, it was-”
“Well, I couldn’t fucking tell. Couldn’t because it was said so often, what else could I do but believe that you were better?”
“Atsumu-”
“Osamu this! Osamu that! Osamu’s quiet and polite. Osamu is more attractive than Atsumu. They look the same but Osamu is most definitely more of a gentleman. Oh is that Osamu’s twin? All the things I’ve heard as I grew up with Miya-fucking-Osamu.”
One from the background speaks, “Miya, chill-”
“No FUCK chill! Constantly getting compared to your younger brother is tiring. I spend HOURS trying to better myself. To show that I’m worthy of being known for more than just ‘Osamu’s Twin Brother-”
“Atsumu!” Osamu yells, it echoes through the gym but he doesn’t care. Can’t care as he’s been holding this in his entire life. Some people never even learned his name as they were in middle school. Always asking him, ‘Oh you’re Osamu’s twin right? What’s your name again? I forgot.’
It was so, degrading. It felt inhumane as if he was some object of some sort-
“That’s why I died my hair, Osamu! Not because it was a trend, like I told you, It was to be my own person. Constantly trying to better myself- fix myself to-to fucking be liked by some random person on street. So I could be the better twin for once- so people could address me by my name not Osamu’s brother or that twin or the meaner/loud one. I CAN’T HELP BUT TO BE PISSED, OSAMU ITS SOMETHING I’VE HAD TO DEAL WILL MY ENTIRE LIFE. AND TO HEAR IT NOW-”
“I-I...:”
“I was never as smart as you! Nor looked as good as you, was polite as you. I know I can be brash or whatever but why can’t no one tell that I’m trying... every damn day when it’s a struggle to fucking even getting out of bed, that I’m trying my fucking best.”
His voice cracked as finished the last part, walking over to the bench, grabbing his belongings almost out the door he stops to say, “So yeah. Sorry if my sets aren’t the best today, but trust me. One day, they will be better than yours, ‘Samu. Take those words like you’re talking to god because I’m going to keep working, keep pushing forward.
“I’m going to win nationals, and get a title of my fucking own. Because I’m gonna be the better fucking twin because no matter how stupid the title seems to you, it means a lot to me.”
Atsumu walks out the gym.
It was quiet; normally for any of their fights, Suna would be recording while others tried to break them apart. But no licks were blown this time. Physically at that. But mentally? It was enough punches to have them evaluate their perception of Osamu’s- no, Miya Atsumu.
And it was enough for Osamu to notice that his was incredibly screwed. And that if he doesn’t fix it, he won’t have a bond with his brother any longer.
He wants to be there, with Atsumu by his side. Not behind him, nor in front. But shoulder to shoulder as they take down every team ahead of them.
But he can’t do that if he can’t fix this first.
And he will.
(And he does.
It takes a while, but he makes Atsumu notice his self-worth, makes him notice that he’s not weak and he doesn’t have to compete with him because Osamu, sees Atsumu as strong, someone admirable.
Someone who deserves to be his brother, and to be at his side.
He’s proud of him, he told Atsumu a couple of years later as he is a pro volleyball player. A pro, someone who’s made it far enough to get that title, isn’t fucking weak, Osamu tells him.
Atsumu would be lying if he said he didn’t want to cry at that moment. He’d also be lying if he said he didn’t.
After that day, his mother and teammates apologized, after they were the fuel to Atsumu’s insecurity and self-esteem issues. Even if they didn’t know it, they still felt horrible.
Kita even got him a present. It was a nice day.)