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Tap tap tap —the anxious beats of his shoe against the hospital floor tiles echoed through the long hallway rather noisily. It made Suna feel somewhat self-conscious, but there were more important things on his mind than to think about who would hear him and who would look at him weird. For example, Atsumu.
“Dude, I can hear you stressing your last brain cell away,” comes a staticky voice weaved with exasperation from his phone.
Suna ignores him, mostly because he was so absorbed in his thoughts that he couldn’t begin to think about a response, but also because ignoring Atsumu always managed to frustrate the guy. Suna doesn’t think he’s overreacting anyhow; his husband is probably bleeding out on a hospital bed at this minute and all he can do is sit outside like a sack of potatoes.
“I’m telling you, this ain’t the first time Samu fucked up in the kitchen and landed his ass in the hospital. Relax, he’ll be fine,” chides Atsumu, although even that won’t stop Suna from fretting until he can see Osamu’s state for himself. The look Atsumu is giving him through the camera is incredibly aggravated, he would laugh if not for how stressed he was.
He doesn’t understand how Atsumu could be so calm and nonchalant about his twin brother being in an unknown condition in the hospital, and voices his thoughts as such.
Atsumu huffs, “The both of you never listen to me! He’s fine, he’s stubborn. This is nothing to him.” He lets out a long and atrocious yawn before he finishes talking. “Alright Sunarin, it’s almost the asscrack of dawn over here and I still have a game today. Call me when—”
“Suna Rintarou-san?” calls an unfamiliar and abrupt voice. When Suna glances up to find the source, a tall light-haired woman dressed in a nurse uniform waves him over, with a kind, reassuring smile on her face. Beside her is a shorter woman with black hair and a white coat, rapidly jotting something down on a clipboard.
Before he can even completely stand up from his seat, he asks impatiently, “How is Osamu? I want to see him.”
The doctor nods and gestures for him to follow as she walks down the hall.
“Miya-san is in a medically stable condition and can be discharged within the week,” the doctor begins, flipping through the documents in her hands. Suna releases a deep breath, feeling almost faint from how light his body suddenly became. “Since he’s just woken up, make sure he gets sufficient food and water. He should take caution to be especially careful with his movements and not engage in any vigorous activities for one month,” she adds.
She continues to tell him about Osamu’s condition as they walk, but truthfully he’s only half listening with everything going in one ear and out the other because all he can think about is Osamu himself.
Thank you so much, whichever deity’s up there. I’ve never been so religious in my life.
She stops in front of one of the doors that is identical to every other door in the hall, knocking twice and opening the door in one breath. The doctor doesn’t go in any further, only pressing the door to the wall with her back as she gestures for him to step in.
“Haiba-san will provide you with all of the other necessary information and documents. But for now, we’ll leave you be. Let the front desk know when you’re ready to go,” she instructs. Suna nods without much thought. He’s hardly able to hold himself back from shooting across the room to Osamu’s bedside.
The doctor pauses halfway out the door to add, “Oh, one last thing. He’s under anesthesia, meaning he may experience temporary memory loss, nausea, and muscle aches. In which case, those are common side effects so there’s no need to worry.”
Suna nods dumbly again, remembering to thank the doctor purely by muscle memory just before she shuts the door behind her.
He turns to face the bed where Osamu rests, lying down peacefully. His body, sunken into the white bedsheets, looks smaller, more fragile than Suna has ever seen him.
As he steps over quietly to take a seat to the left of the hospital bed, he notes a plain white nightstand with a tray next to him. A large pitcher of water sits on top along with a water glass and a soup thermos, likely tasteless. It takes all of three seconds for his attention to fall back onto Osamu.
He instinctively raises a hand to card his fingers through Osamu’s soft hair, sweeping his bangs away from his eyes.
Suna almost jumps at the pair of eyes intently staring at him when he brings his hand back. They’re the same familiar pair that he seeks solace in every day and comes home to every night.
“Are you an angel?” his husband lying on the bed blurts.
Suna smiles helplessly. Leave it to his husband to completely flip his mood. He shakes his head, and with undeniable fondness, he answers, “No, I’m not an angel.”
That doesn’t thwart Osamu. “A devil then,” he concludes with confidence, like he’s pieced the puzzle together, but in the way a man dizzy under anesthesia would. Meaning the pieces are haphazardly cut up and forcibly glued into place. “I see it. You’re gorgeous. I don't mind, you can still take me,” he offers sleepily.
Fingers continue to soothingly brush through Osamu’s hair. Suna hums, “Yeah? I’ll consider it if you rest and take care of yourself.”
Lulled by the comfort, Osamu’s eyes droop closed. For a minute, Suna thinks he’s dozed off until he sluggishly blinks open his eyes again.
“Did it hurt when you fell, ‘cause you’re so pretty…,” Osamu tries.
Suna bursts into laughter, giving his utmost to keep his voice down to avoid disrupting the hospital. “That, that doesn’t even make sense,” he wheezes between breaths.
“You’re beautiful,” he insists like his life is on the line. Another laugh chokes out of Suna.
“You’ve lost all your game, Samu,” he playfully accuses.
“You know my name?” Osamu asks hopefully instead, his persistence all the more adorable in his groggy state. “Will you tell me yours?”
“Rin,” he answers indulgently. He’s never said no to those puppy eyes and there’s no reason to stop now.
“Rin. A beautiful name for a beautiful devil, of course. You’re perfect.”
A glint of light catching his eyes, Osamu glances away from Suna for the first time to study the hand hovering over his forehead. Specifically, the shiny silver ring wrapped around Suna’s finger.
“Are you married, Rin?”
“Yeah, I'm married,” replies Suna with a grin. He has a vague idea about where this is going.
Osamu immediately tears up, and if his ears aren’t lying to him, Suna could hear a sniffle.
“Do...do they treat you right? I can treat you better,” he proclaims.
Chuckling lightly, Suna lowers his hand to gently wipe the waterfalls from Osamu’s cheeks with his thumb. “What are you crying for, you big baby?”
“I can cook real good, Rin,” he pushes insistently, “I'll cook for you every day.”
“You already do. I'm married to you, silly.” His grin grows at Osamu’s gradual realization showing through his eyes.
Osamu blinks slowly. “Me? I’m your husband?”
When Suna nods, he cries even harder and Suna can’t wipe them fast enough. He clicks his tongue affectionately, reaching out both arms to cup his husband’s crying face in his hands, although very much awkwardly considering Osamu is still lying flat on a hospital bed.
“Holy shit. I married the most beautiful man in the world.”
Suna tries to laugh again but it comes out more like a breath, feeling tears threatening to leak from his eyes and match with his husband. It's unbelievable how loved Osamu can make him feel.
“I got you to marry me?” he continues in disbelief, almost in a whine. He requests boldly, “If we're married, then can you hold my hand?”
Not trusting his voice to answer that, Suna doesn’t waste another second before slipping his hands into Osamu’s waiting pair, giving them a tight squeeze.
“What was our wedding like?” Osamu urges.
Suna takes a deep breath. “I’ll tell you, but you have to eat something while I tell you.”
Osamu nods compliantly, attentively listening and drinking the soup Suna feeds him.
As he describes their wedding day in vivid detail, he thinks he wouldn’t mind experiencing this kind of feeling—falling in love with Osamu, cherishing Osamu, marrying Osamu—over and over again.
The next morning, Suna wakes up to his phone blowing up with notifications, the first message in the Inarizaki alumni group chat being a video uploaded by Atsumu.