Archive of Our Own

you are the best friend again. he invites

you over for dinner and you say yes

too easily. remind yourself this isn’t special,

it’s only dinner, everyone has to eat.

when he greets you at the door, do not think

for one second you are the reason

he wore cologne tonight.

someone told you once

a soul mate is not the person who makes you the happiest,

but the one that makes you feel the most.

— sierra demulder, on watching someone

you love love someone else.

Osamu watches as his entire world comes to a screeching halt on a Saturday.

The thing is, he had always prided himself on being able to notice immediately when Atsumu needed to talk to him about something important, especially when it's something serious. They’re brothers, after all; he knows Atsumu better than anyone, with the exception of Kiyoomi maybe.

So it's safe to say that he isn't the least surprised when Atsumu comes barging in on his and Rin's shared dorm room, not after his sudden text half an hour before of help i'm going through a fucking crisis, eyebrows knitted together and lips pursed. Osamu automatically knows something is up. This is the look Atsumu often gets when he's debating over something, like what he should eat for dinner, or whether he should do his accounting assignments now or later. Osamu knows, but there's a tightness to Atsumu's shoulders that isn't usually there, and already there’s a sense of dread gathering low in his stomach.

He stops scrolling through his phone and looks up at his brother. Osamu manages to stay quiet, waiting expectantly for Atsumu to speak first, and another minute passes until he finally does.

"Sunarin isn't here, right?" is what Atsumu asks. A frown tugs on Osamu lips.

"He isn't," he replies slowly, quirking an eyebrow at the unexpected question. "Why?"

Atsumu inhales, exhales. Osamu notes the clench in his fists. And then, in one swift breath, Atsumu says with the faintest of blushes rising high on his cheeks, "I… think I like him. Sunarin. I like Rin."

Osamu blinks. He feels time freeze, or maybe it's just himself, and he barely keeps himself from dropping his phone.

"I mean," he starts, tilting his head in confusion. "Rin's great. I like him too."

Making a little frustrated sound in the back of his throat, Atsumu plops down on the foot of his bed. "No, 'Samu, that's not what I–" he sighs, brushing his hair back. A nervous habit. Osamu sits up, suddenly anxious; he's seen his brother uncomfortable in plenty of situations before, but this is different. Like he's giving Osamu bad news.

"I mean I like like him," Atsumu clarifies softly. "As in, romantically."

Osamu feels his blood run cold. "Huh?"

Atsumu sighs again. He looks regretful, almost, for bringing it up. Osamu doesn’t understand. “I wanted to talk to ya before I did anything about it. You and Sunarin have always been so close, and I didn't want anything to be weird between all of us." 

He chews on his bottom lip. Osamu's brain lags a few miles behind, struggling to catch up.

Atsumu likes Rin. For some reason, the phrase doesn't sit well with him. Osamu always assumed his twin had feelings for Kiyoomi instead, a suspicion that only continued to grow during the summer in their final year of high school, when Kiyoomi had announced he was thinking of going abroad for a few months and wouldn't be back for an indefinite amount of time. He chose to stay, in the end, but Osamu had found his idiot brother on the playground the four of them used to play in when they were mere children later that night, red-rimmed eyes that stared at nothing but his shoes. It wasn't a secret that Atsumu took it the hardest.

But now…

Osamu thinks he's going to be sick. His stomach recoils, and he feels the tiniest clench in his heart, but then Atsumu's last words finally make it into his brain, and a jolt runs down his spine. He feels paralyzed.

“We’re not–" Osamu shakes his head. His neck feels too hot, chest too tight, but he forces out a laugh anyway. “We’re not anything, 'Tsumu. Ya know I've never felt anything like that. Rin and I… we’ve always been just friends." He tries for a smile. "You should know that, dumbass."

He doesn’t know why he feels so awful for saying that. Memories poke at his seams and intrude his mind, of him and Rin when they were younger, sharing beds and racing on the seashore. Of them when they were barely teenagers, impulsive trips to movies and rundown playgrounds as bundles of homework shoved inside their backpacks lay forgotten. And then he thinks of them now, moving in together for college because it's weirder for them to be apart. He pushes them back. It didn’t mean anything at the time, and it shouldn't mean anything now, either.

Atsumu still looks skeptical, so Osamu swallows down the bile rising in his throat and grins up at him. “'Tsumu, this- This is great! I mean, I never expected you to like Rin of all people but… "

He trails off when pink starts to dust on Atsumu's ears. Osamu doesn't know how to feel about it. Rubbing the nape of his neck nervously, Atsumu says, "I didn't expect it too. But Suna's always been so amazing, ya know? And… " His smile turns bashful. "He's been on my mind a lot lately."

The lump in Osamu's throat swells until he thinks he might choke. Or cry. But he doesn't, because Atsumu deserves so much better from his own brother.

Which is why Osamu says his next words with a smile, even when there's something stabbing at his gut and pricking at his eyes: “You should go for it, 'Tsumu. Seriously.”

There's the start of a glimmer of hope twinkling in Atsumu's eyes. The smile that Osamu has grown up with, big and bright and genuine, is almost blinding. “You’re sure? It's- it's cool with ya?” he asks, and Osamu's head nods without permission from his brain.

“'Course I’m sure." He tries again to match Atsumu's smile. Somehow, his voice doesn’t shake, but he feels… odd. Like he's lost something he never even had in the first place. “And Rin would be stupid if he doesn't say yes."

Atsumu leaves with an excited promise to send updates, grinning and waving and yelling at Osamu to start dating too. The sick feeling in Osamu's stomach sinks and solidifies like a rock, sitting there for the rest of the day.

///

Suna says yes.

Atsumu doesn't need to say anything for Kiyoomi to know. He barges back into their apartment that evening with a beam so brilliant it rivals the sun and the stars and everything that shines. Atsumu looks so beautiful, jumping onto the couch with flushed cheeks and a giddy smile, but all Kiyoomi can do is clutch at his heart and beg for it not to break.

"So," he starts, looking up from his book and offering Atsumu the biggest smile he can muster. It feels so wrong, and it hurts so much, but it keeps his tears from falling and ruining everything he's worked years to hide.

"So," Atsumu echoes. The smile is starting to reach his eyes. "Wanna guess what happened?"

Kiyoomi huffs out a laugh. "'Tsumu, anyone within two inches from you can tell he said yes." 

"He said yes!" Atsumu whoops. He falls back onto the couch and kicks the air with his feet, excited little squeaks slipping past his lips that he doesn't even bother to hide. 

Kiyoomi feels the tremors in his smile, but he holds strong.

Atsumu inhales, exhales, inhales again. He presses his palms over his heart, before grabbing for a nearby pillow and letting out another delighted squeal. It takes a few minutes, but he finally calms down enough for him to speak again.

"Okay, okay," Atsumu says, breathless. "Shit, I feel like I'm in high school all over again." His lip starts to quiver from the strain in containing his smiles, but Kiyoomi raises a single eyebrow, and that's all it takes for Atsumu to go into another bout of muffled screaming.

After what seems like two decades and a month, Atsumu gains enough control over himself to speak coherent words. He grins, and Kiyoomi tries to grin too, willing his shoulders to stop trembling. He can't break down, shouldn't break down. He can't do that to his best friend.

Atsumu's fanning himself now. "Do ya wanna know what happened?"

Kiyoomi laughs. "Go ahead."

"Alright. So." Atsumu sucks in a breath. He leans forward, completely intruding on Kiyoomi's personal space. "I texted him, asking if he was free after studying in the library. He said yes, and we met up at that new café down the block- you know that place, right?" Kiyoomi nods, thinking about anything that isn't how close their bodies are, and Atsumu continues. 

"We talked for a bit, I treated him to his usual cappuccino, and it took around twenty minutes for me to finally gather up the courage to tell him." He scratches his head sheepishly. "It wasn't anythin' romantic really, and I was probably stumbling over my words like a complete moron, but Sunarin laughed and said yes. And, oh my fuck, Omi, his laugh. I've always found it kinda cute, but now it's just downright fucking adorable."

Kiyoomi hums in understanding, He doesn't trust himself to speak. Turns out, he doesn't have to, because Atsumu is speaking enough for the both of them.

"So after he said yes and everything, we walked around the park for a bit. And, Omi, we held hands. Like, we haven't held hands like that since we were in sixth grade!" Atsumu rambles on, waving his hands around animatedly as Kiyoomi laughs and pretends he isn't shattering inside. "We ended up in that beach for a while, the one where Sunarin and 'Samu used to have all those dumb races in–"  he cuts himself short, eyes lighting up in late realization. "Oh, shit. Speaking of 'Samu, I should probably text him soon. Although, Suna must have told him by now."

Atsumu's next words fly past Kiyoomi's ears. Osamu. God, he's been so busy caring about himself that he completely forgot about the other boy. Kiyoomi wonders if he's holding up better than he is.

"And then we talked for a bit more…" Atsumu trails off, before he perks up again. "Oh, right! He agreed to a date next Monday night, Omi! After that I walked him home– hey, what's wrong? Why are ya crying?"

Fuck. Kiyoomi touches his cheek, only to find it wet. Traitor, he yells at his body. Atsumu stares at him worriedly, but Kiyoomi laughs it off, shaking his head.

"It's nothing," he assures, wiping his eyes. "I'm just… I'm happy for you. Really."

Atsumu doesn't look convinced. "Enough for ya to cry?"

Shoving the other boy lightly, Kiyoomi rasps out a breathy laugh. "Bitch. I care about you. It's- It's nice seeing you so happy."

His voice catches a bit at the last part there, but Atsumu's back to beaming again. 

He's so lovely. Kiyoomi shudders, and blinks, and suffocates, but he's still managing to laugh alongside Atsumu and he thinks about how he doesn't mind hurting over him.

///

It's nearing 10 in the evening when Rintarou finally comes home.

He opens the door, wondering if Osamu had eaten already. "I'm back!" he yells, only to be greeted with silence. He frowns. That's strange. It's never silent.

"'Samu?" he calls again.

"Over here." Osamu pops his head from behind the bathroom door, offering a small smile. Stepping closer, Rintarou narrows his eyes at him.

"Have you- Have you been crying?" he asks incredulously, before letting out a sigh, all fond and exasperated and I can't believe you're like this.   "Geez, 'Samu, which sad anime did you watch today?"

"Aw, Rin, ya know me so well," Osamu laughs, throwing an arm over his shoulder. Rintarou grumbles about Osamu being an idiot, but he makes no attempt to swat him away.

"Did you eat already?" Rintarou asks, and Osamu shoots him that certain smug little smirk that Rintarou wants to smack off of his face.

"I did, actually. Were ya worried? How sweet."

"Yeah right, you ass," Rintarou snorts. "Just wanted to make sure you're not dying or anything. It's your turn to do the laundry tomorrow, remember?"

Osamu grasps at his chest dramatically. Rintarou rolls his eyes at it. Everyone always says Atsumu's the more dramatic, emotional twin, but Rintarou's grown to know that Osamu's just the same. He just expresses it differently. "You strike me down with yer harsh words."

"The only thing I'll strike you down with is my foot if you don't get your arm off of me right now. Move."

Osamu quite literally cackles at that, the bastard. Shaking his head with a grin, he asks, "What about you? Did ya eat?"

Oh. 

Rintarou looks away in time for Osamu not to catch his answering blush. He remembers Atsumu, of them walking on the beach's pier with different flavoured milkshakes in hand, and he feels his heart stutter a little somewhere deep within his ribs. Hiding his smile, he looks back at Osamu.

Osamu's staring at him weirdly, until he notices that Rintarou's staring back. A shit-eating grin creeps up on Osamu's face. "Wait, nevermind. That was a stupid question," he says, lifting a brow. "I assume 'Tsumu took you out to eat already?"

Rintarou absolutely hates the way his neck warms. God, this is so embarrassing. He casts his eyes to the side. "You knew?"

Osamu stares at him, unimpressed. "Well, duh."

The blush is starting to snake up his ears. Ugh. "Oh." Rintarou looks up at Osamu then, pursing his lips. "You're okay with it?"

Osamu turns away. Rintarou watches as he walks to their kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. He gulps half of it down, before saying, "Of course I'm okay with it. Why wouldn't I be?"

Rintarou shrugs, but then remembers Osamu isn't looking at him. "Just making sure."

A heartbeat passses before Osamu speaks again. "Hey, Rin?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm gonna call it a day. Guess binge-watching for five hours made me more tired than I expected."

He chuckles a bit, and Rintarou blinks. "Oh. Yeah, sure. Go ahead."

Osamu walks away, but Rintarou finds himself latching onto his arm before he has the time to stop himself. "'Samu," he says, looking at him square in the eye. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, Rin," Osamu laughs, gently pushing his hand away. "Goodnight, okay?"

He's acting weird. Weirder than usual, but Rintarou decides not to question it. He follows Osamu into their room, and is just about to change into a clean set of clothes when his eyes catch Osamu climbing into his bed. Rintarou frowns for the second time that night. Osamu never sleeps in his own bed. He always invites himself over to Rintarou's bed, every night without fail since they moved in together, completely ignoring Rintarou's muffled sounds of protests and weak kicks to the shin.

It was a bother at first, because they weren't kids anymore and Rintarou thought he needed his own personal space, but he's gotten so used to Osamu clinging onto him each night and completely ruining his posture that Osamu's bed is now used for anything but sleeping.

Rintarou throws his shirt over his head and hunts for a new one. Without looking, he jokes, "Have you finally decided on using your own bed? Seriously, 'Samu?"

He glances back when Osamu doesn't laugh. "Well, this is what ya wanted, right?" he asks, voice muffled through his pillow.

Furrowing his brows together in confusion, Rintarou puts in, "You know I never mean it. Really, 'Samu, when do I ever tell you no?"

Osamu peeks through from beneath his blanket. "Never," he grumbles, albeit begrudgingly.

"Exactly." Rintarou sighs then, grabbing for his laptop and sitting cross-legged atop his bed. "Don't be a brat, 'Samu. That's your brother's job. Get your ass over here and keep me warm."

"Is that your twisted way of asking for a hug?"

"Osamu."

"Alright, alright," Osamu relents, sitting up and raising his hands up in defeat. He hesitates. "But won't it be weird?"

Not glancing away from his laptop, Rintarou questions, "Why would it be?"

"Because… ya know… "

This time, Rintarou does look up, and briefly wonders what the fuck Osamu is going on about. He tilts his head. "Is this because of me and Atsumu?" he asks.

Osamu bites the inside of his cheek before nodding. Rintarou lets out a little laugh.

"Christ, 'Samu, it doesn't really mean anything, does it?"

"Right," Osamu laughs too. "It doesn't mean anything."

"It doesn't mean anything," Rintarou repeats. "So drag yourself over here right this moment or you're cleaning the bathroom tomorrow too."

"Okay, now that's just cruel." But Osamu gets up anyway, sidling up to Rintarou's side, their bodies pressed against each other like it's routine. 

Osamu passes out in five minutes, and eventually, Rintarou stops his music and lets the older boy's awful snoring filter through his ears. 

It's always been like this, between the two of them. Rintarou never did want it to change.

///

Atsumu lets his fingers brush over the top button of his shirt, debating whether he should leave it closed or open. He bought it yesterday in a sort of rush, and he's supposed to meet Suna in ten minutes, so he really can't afford to be this indecisive when he still has to look for his wallet and wherever the hell his phone is this time.

"Open," says a voice behind him, just as he decides that leaving it buttoned probably looks better.

"What?"

Kiyoomi walks up to him until they're face-to-face, fresh from the shower, and reaches up to undo the top button on Atsumu's shirt. His fingers accidentally pause on the skin of Atsumu's throat in the process, and Atsumu finds himself holding in his breath. "You should leave it open. Christ, 'Tsumu, you and Suna have known each for so long, I doubt he'll hate you if you come in wearing your pajamas. But I guess buying a whole new shirt was pretty considerate of you."

Kiyoomi smells nice, like his weird vanilla lotion he always keeps in stock, and Atsumu blinks to clear the thought away. "I'm not-"

"Atsumu, you looked like you were going to church, not a date to the movies." Kiyoomi looks Atsumu up and down critically, and smoothes the fabric bunched on his shoulders. He smiles. "You look somewhat acceptable now, though."

"Gee, thanks."

Kiyoomi snorts, before reaching over the bedside table and handing Atsumu his wallet. Atsumu bites back a smile.

"By any chance, have you seen my–"

"Your phone's on the middle shelf, near the remote," Kiyoomi supplies for him, and Atsumu rolls his eyes in fond amusement as he runs to the living room.

"Thanks, Omi," he teases, laughing when Kiyoomi slaps him on the arm.

He tucks his phone in his back pocket and crouches to put on his shoes. Standing up and brushing dust from his pants, Atsumu looks back at Kiyoomi with a grin, earning a soft smile from him in return.

"Have a nice date, 'Tsumu."

Grin only growing wider, Atsumu waves. "See ya later, Omi! And don't wait up for me, okay?"

Kiyoomi nods, and Atsumu lets out one last laugh. "And don't forget to eat!"

With that, he's out the door and sprinting to the elevator, heart thudding and palms sweaty with anticipation.

Suna's waiting for him by the time Atsumu arrives at his door.

"Hey," he breathes out, and Suna's lips twitch upwards.

"Hey to you, too." He takes one, long look at Atsumu and whistles appreciatively. "Well. It's nice to see you looking as dashing as ever."

Atsumu doesn't know if Suna had somehow known he'd ran all the way to his place so he could be on time. He scoffs, but he feels his cheeks heating up and he's forced to wipe his hands on the fabric of his jeans. Clearing his throat, he offers what he hopes isn't a sweaty hand, and he says, "Ready to go?"

Suna takes his palm and smiles up at him. He closes the door behind him, and they stroll out the building and into the streets, fingers interlocked and arms brushing.

They fill the silence with playful banter and idle conversation – because even after a decade, they still haven't run out of things to say – and they're five minutes away from the theatre when the topic swerves to their friends.

"By the way, Atsumu," Suna's saying, and Atsumu turns to look at him. Suna's avoiding his gaze, Atsumu notes, an endearing flush tinting his pale cheeks. He's so cute, Atsumu thinks to himself with a laugh, until he notices Suna's staring at him quizzically and he realizes he didn't even hear the second half of Suna's sentence.

Oh. "Sorry, what did ya say?" he asks, and Suna – his boyfriend – lets out a stupidly endearing laugh.

"I was just wondering how Kiyoomi reacted to… you know," he gestures at the both of them and swallows nervously, "us."

Atsumu lightens up in reply. "He's been really chill about it, actually! And very supportive, too."

"Really?"

"Yep," Atsumu laughs, more to himself really, when thinking back to how Kiyoomi had given him a ten minute lecture on how to make this date the best first date he'll ever be in. He glances back at Suna. "What about 'Samu? Is he okay with it?"

Suna blinks a couple of times at the question, and the shadow of a frown starts to pull at his lips. "Um. Yeah. He's okay with it."

"You don't sound so sure."

"No, he is," Suna reassures. "He's just been acting kinda strange these past few days. Although," he chuckles softly, "I can't really blame him. It'll be pretty weird if your own brother and best friend, people you've known for almost all your life, start dating, don't you think?"

Atsumu hums in agreement, unconsciously gripping Suna's hand the slightest bit tighter. "Wait a minute," he adds as an afterthought, turning towards Suna. "Where is 'Samu? I didn't see him when I came to pick ya up. Which is weird because he's like, always stirring up some new recipe in your kitchen every time me and Omi come over."

"Ah." Suna looks troubled, and Atsumu wants to kiss it all away but he holds back. Time and place, he reminds himself. "He was sleeping. I'm not sure if he's awake yet."

"Sleeping? But it's 6 in the evening! That's weird, even for him."

Laughing a little, Suna clarifies, "He took a nap sometime in the afternoon. He's been… really tired lately, I think."

Atsumu grins. He knows full well on his idiotic brother's habit of checking through his anime watch list instead of the assignments he's got piling up whenever there's no classes. "Binge-watching again?"

"Christ, don't get me started," Suna groans, using his free hand to pinch at his nose bridge. "Last night, I caught him crying into my hair. When I asked what the hell he was sobbing about at 3 in the morning, he said he couldn't stop thinking about that one pancreas movie." He lets out a long-suffering sigh. "You know how he is. Especially now that we're on spring break."

Snorting in a way that must have been very unflattering, Atsumu goes on to say, "Do ya remember last winter when he watched- what was it, 23 animes in one week?"

Suna shudders as they turn around the corner and brush past the door, burying his face in his hand. "We do not talk about the Miya Osamu Squid Legs and Peanut Butter Incident of Christmas Eve. Never again. I love the guy, but there are just some recipes that are meant to stay on paper." He pauses for a second, blinking in surprise at the illuminated menu hanging overhead. "Oh. We're here."

"Right." Atsumu feels his cheeks warm. Not wanting the silence to stretch out a second longer, he turns to Suna with a sideways smile. "I'll order our food and drinks, okay? You go ahead and find our seats."

Suna bites at those damned pink lips. "You sure?"

"Rin. Geez, I'll be fine. At least trust me a little now that we're dating," Atsumu says with a hint of sarcasm, and mentally cheers when he spots the crimson tint on Suna's ears.

"That's not–" Suna falters, before shooting him a half-hearted glare and turning on his heels. "Fine. But hurry up, okay?"

Another smile splits through Atsumu's face. "Got it."

The movie was amazing. Or so, Atsumu is told, as Suna continues to be the action movie fanatic he is and rants about how incredible everything was. Atsumu however, has spent the entire two hours staring at all the little stunning details on Suna's face and wondering what it would feel like if their lips found each other in the dark.

They're a few minutes away from Suna's door when Atsumu asks, "What do ya think about having game night this Wednesday? I was thinking of inviting Komori, Akaashi, and Bokuto along too."

"Game night?" Suna smiles fondly. "We haven't had one of those in a while."

Scratching the back of his ear tentatively, Atsumu says, "Is it okay with you?"

He tries not to blush when Suna squeezes his hand. It's just a squeeze, what the fuck. "Of course I'm okay with it. And I'm sure 'Samu will be, too. That dumbass needs a break from hogging the TV all day."

"8 o'clock at mine and Omi's place, okay?"

Suna makes a face. "You mean, in the evening. Right?"

"Obviously." Rolling his eyes amusedly, Atsumu adds, "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a masochist."

And Suna laughs, the kind that's carefree and loud as it rings throughout the desolated sidewalk. Too soon, they arrive at Suna's dorm, the ghost of his touch lingering on Atsumu's hand.

"So," Suna starts. "I guess this is goodnight?"

Atsumu swallows and deliberately doesn't think about how nice Suna looks under this shitty lighting. "Yeah. I- I had a great time today."

"Me too." A pause, before Suna flashes him a small grin. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Well, shit. Atsumu's too young to die from heart attacks caused by too-cute boys with pretty lips and prettier eyes. He tries for a smile, ignoring the way his heart has cruelly decided it wanted all of Japan to hear how loud it's beating. "Definitely."

And then Suna's reaching down and gently placing his hands on Atsumu's shoulders. He feels soft lips press against his skin, and Atsumu doesn't even get the luxury of dwelling on it as Suna steps back just as fast he leaned in, face reddening with each passing second.

Suna waves goodbye and closes the door behind him, making Atsumu promise to call him when he gets home. It's only after five full minutes have passed does Atsumu remove his hand from his cheek, walking back to his apartment with the feeling of Suna's lips burned onto his skin.

///

In retrospect, Osamu should have said no. Declined the offer and said he was sick, or tired, or anything really if it means he didn't have to face this.

Because by the time he and Rin arrive at Atsumu's place on Friday night, with Atsumu pulling in Rin for a quick kiss on the forehead and leading him into the living room with their hands joined, the little thorn in Osamu's heart only continues to grow until it feels like he's suffocating.

Why does he feel like this? It's just Rin. He shouldn't be so bothered over his best friend dating someone, even if Rin has never shown any interest in it before. Especially when that someone is Atsumu, who, although annoying and brash and too much of a jerk sometimes, has a heart bigger than anyone Osamu's ever known.

Right?

"Hey," Komori whispers from beside him, gently nudging his arm and ripping him away from his thoughts. "You okay?"

Osamu nods. He swallows down all the hurt and turns to offer a smile to everyone in the room.

"I'm guessing we're playing Monopoly tonight?" he asks, looking down at the bright red boardgame on the floor and earning an excited whoop from Bokuto and a defeated groan from Kiyoomi.

"I hate you," Kiyoomi tells Atsumu, his brother laughing at Kiyoomi's glare. "You know how much I suck at Monopoly. Couldn't you have picked something else?"

"I specifically picked this because you suck at Monopoly, you prickly literature major," Atsumu says with a taunting grin. He clasps his hands together and Rin laughs at his eagerness. Osamu tries not to stare at how their arms are pressed together. "Let's start, shall we?"

"I'll be the banker!" Bokuto exclaims, shooting his hand up in the air, only for Akaashi to reach over and steal the piles of money away from him.

"No, you won't," he says, pointedly avoiding the way his boyfriend pouts at him. "The last time you were the banker, you ended up teaming up with Atsumu and did all sorts of things to make the rest of us go bankrupt." Akaashi throws the two of them an accusing look. "I don't trust you accounting students."

Before Bokuto can even open his mouth to protest, Kiyoomi clears his throat. "I second that," he cuts in, also ignoring the way Bokuto splutters at them both. "Let Motoya be the banker or something."

It takes a minute, but Bokuto eventually agrees. Komori ends up going to jail five times in the next forty minutes, Atsumu has to pay income tax thrice, and Osamu winds up going bankrupt, the second to lose right after Kiyoomi. It's a surprise to everyone – he's almost always the one who wins the most, with the exception of Rin.

It's also Rin who stares at him disbelievingly when everyone else goes on with the game. "You're usually the one I face off against when everyone else has lost," he says with a shake of his head, earning a light giggle from Atsumu. "What happened?"

Osamu doesn’t want to admit that he was too distracted with the way Rin and Atsumu have been cuddled up the entire time, Rin's hand atop Atsumu's thigh. He's too ashamed of the way his thoughts had drifted to what it'd be like if Rin were touching him instead to focus much on the game, or the jealous, horrible feeling he felt because it's his brother Rin is talking to and not him, or that he couldn’t stop watching the way they whispered to each other casually, intimately, throughout the night.

He'd never felt more confused, more conflicted in his entire life. What's wrong with him?

“I must be more unlucky than I thought.” The lie passes through his teeth too easily. He smiles weakly and adds, "Guess that just gives ya a bigger chance to win, huh?" 

He half-expects Rin to rightfully call him out on his bullshit, but instead he seems to accept this without argument, and Osamu breathes out a silent sigh of relief. The rest of the game goes by smoothly, but by the time it’s finished and Komori is mumbling bitterly about Rin's inevitable victory – "he majors in business, of course he’s going to win!” – Osamu decides he needs something to drink.

He heads for the kitchen and grabs for the can of beer he knows Kiyoomi and Atsumu to have ready in the fridge, not realizing Kiyoomi had followed him in there until he appears beside Osamu with a handful of chips, taken from the bowl that had been sitting on the coffee table when they played.

An easy silence settles between them, him and Kiyoomi perched on the kitchen's countertop with Kiyoomi's free hand settling on his shoulder.

“So,” Osamu starts, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly. He clears his throat, nodding towards the living room, where the couple of the night are currently entangled on the couch. “'Tsumu and Rin. That kinda came out as a surprise, didn't it?”

Apparently, it’s the wrong thing to say.

Kiyoomi's hand on his shoulder recoils as if he'd been electrocuted, his smile faltering. He blinks a couple of times, harsh and quick, and Osamu notes the way his shoulders tense up.

He feels regret bubble up in his chest, and he's just about to apologize for bringing it up and change the subject when Kiyoomi nods sharply.

“Yeah, it- It's great. They sure look happy, don’t they?” he asks, but there’s something off about his voice, something that Osamu picks up on immediately. Like he's speaking past a lump in his throat and forcing all the words out.

It's how Osamu's been speaking too these last few days, after all. 

"They do look happy,” he agrees quietly, ignoring the own burning ache he feels. He watches the way Kiyoomi's smile slowly morphs into a frown. Osamu doesn’t think he even realizes he’s doing it.

Kiyoomi nods again. His eyes are glued to the way Atsumu presses himself further into Rin's side, tipping his head back to laugh at something Rin had said. “Yeah. I- I’m glad Atsumu moved on from that whole fiasco with his last girlfriend."

From the way the words come out of Kiyoomi's mouth, it sounds like there should be a but after, but he snaps his mouth shut before he can say it. Still, Osamu thinks he can tell just by looking at his face. The rest of the sentence hangs unspoken between them, heavy and palpable.

But why did it have to be with Rin?

///

A week has gone by when Osamu calls Kiyoomi, just after Atsumu's left for his fourth date with Suna.

("Aren't these pretty?" Atsumu had asked with a smile, holding up a small bouquet of roses and tulips in his hand. "What do you think, Omi?"

Kiyoomi held up the flowers up to his nose, but he couldn't smell anything. "Suna's gonna love it," he promised, the words scraping up from some hollow place inside his stomach.)

"What's up?" Kiyoomi answers, only for dead silence to be heard on the other end. He frowns. "Osamu?"

"Sorry, I just–" There's a muffled sound that sounds suspiciously like a choked sob, and Kiyoomi thinks he feels his chest constrict. He hears Osamu suck in a shuddering breath, before he asks, "Are ya free right now?"

Kiyoomi knits his eyebrows together, worry filling his lungs. "I am," he replies softly. "Is everything alright?"

"No," Osamu huffs out a bitter laugh. "Yes. Maybe. I don't know, fuck–"

"Osamu," Kiyoomi calls out, cutting him off from saying any more. "What's wrong?"

There's a sharp inhale heard on the other line. It takes a few seconds, until Osamu asks, "Do ya think we can meet up by the grocery store beside my place?"

Kiyoomi nods furiously, forgetting that Osamu can't see him. "Yeah, just… just give me a few minutes. I'll be there, alright?"

Another pause, before Osamu says in a voice too quiet, too tired. "Thanks, Kiyoomi."

He hangs up, and Kiyoomi grabs for his jacket and heads towards the door. It takes him a minute longer than he expected, and by the time he's just around the corner from Osamu's dorm, his heart is pounding painfully against his chest to the point he thinks his ribs might actually bruise. Kiyoomi doesn't know if it's from anxiety or from running.

He slows to a jog when he spots Osamu leaning against a street lamp. Osamu waves when he sees him, and Kiyoomi crosses the last few metres of space between them to look him straight in the eye.

"Okay," he breathes out, hands on his knees as he tries to get oxygen into his lungs again. Straightening, Kiyoomi asks, "What's going–"

"You like 'Tsumu, don't you?" Osamu interrupts softly, effectively shutting him up and making his world tilt on its own axis.

Kiyoomi feels his heart stop. "What?"

"You like my brother," Osamu repeats. There's a look in his eye that Kiyoomi can't quite interpret, or understand. "Right?"

Slowly, Kiyoomi nods, swallowing back the chunk wedged torturously in his throat and forcing his voice to work. "Yeah, I do." He turns to Osamu, a weak smile plastered on his face. "How about we go sit down somewhere?"

He hands Osamu a bottle of cheap beer they bought from the store. "How did you find out?" Kiyoomi asks, not looking at Osamu as he sits himself down on the wooden bench they found near the park a few blocks away.

Osamu shrugs, taking a swig from his drink. "Guess I've always had a feeling about it. Never really knew for sure until last week though."

"Oh," Kiyoomi mumbles, fiddling with the bottle in his hands. Gulping down the last of his hesitation, he says, "What about you?"

He turns just in time to catch Osamu narrowing his eyes. "What?"

"You… You like Suna," Kiyoomi states, chewing on his lip. "Don't you?"

Silence. He turns his head, only to see Osamu glaring at his hands. Kiyoomi tries again. "Osamu?"

"I don't," Osamu spits out. His tone is too harsh, and Kiyoomi flinches before he can stop himself. "I don't like Rin."

"It's okay to–"

"I said I don't like him!" Osamu snaps as he stands, glass shards from the bottle spilling onto the pavement. His hands are shaking. and there's a quiver to his lower lip that wasn't there before. "I don't–" he stifles down a broken cry, and Kiyoomi feels something squeeze at his heart and making it hard to breathe. "I'm not gay, Kiyoomi."

Kiyoomi stands up too, once he realizes the bleeding cuts on Osamu's hands. "Osamu, wait–"

"What do I do, Kiyoomi?" Osamu chokes out. "I'm not gay, I've never felt anything for other guys before, but… but why does it hurt so much to see Rin with my own brother?"

He's crying, Kiyoomi thinks faintly, shoulders trembling and breaths coming out in shaky, erratic gasps. Kiyoomi tries to reach out for him, but Osamu stumbles back, pushing him away. 

"Rin looks so happy with 'Tsumu," he mutters, eyes red and bright with unfallen tears as he looks up at Kiyoomi. "What's wrong with me? I can't even look at Rin without feeling like I'm taking advantage of him. I don’t even know if it’s okay for us to be what we are now–"

"Stop it!" Kiyoomi screams, finally snapping as he pushes Osamu back against the bench. "Shut up! Stop saying that!"

"But it's true!"

"It's not true!"

"Then look me in the fucking eye," Osamu roars, "and tell me with complete confidence that what I feel isn't bad, that it isn't wrong, that it's not disgusting and perverted and fucked up—"

"It's not!" Kiyoomi yells. He glares at him, his eyes still blazing, and Osamu breathes heavily and blinks against the new tears forming in his eyes.

"Liar," Osamu whispers.

"So are you saying that what I'm feeling is wrong too?" Kiyoomi thunders, chest heavy with hurt. "That I'm disgusting, and perverted, and fucked up because I'm in love with Atsumu?"

"But that's different!" Taking a step forward, Osamu clenches his fists, and stares at him with such intensity that, on any other circumstance, Kiyoomi would have cringed back. "I keep having these… these thoughts of Rin, thoughts that I shouldn't be having over my best friend. And it feels so corrupt and sick, because I keep thinking of what it'd be like to hold him and touch him and run my hands over his body instead of 'Tsumu–" Osamu stops and casts his eyes angrily to the side. "I'm so fucking disgusting."

"You're not disgusting!" And Kiyoomi doesn't know if it's all the anguish and rage that takes over him then, because in the next second he's shoving Osamu to the ground, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. "What you feel isn't wrong , Osamu."

"I still sleep on his bed," Osamu whispers bitterly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Rin has 'Tsumu, he has a boyfriend who's my fucking brother, but I'm still as selfish and pathetic as ever and I can't do anything about it or Rin would find out something's up."

"Osamu." Kiyoomi's voice cracks a little there, but he pushes through. "Shut the fuck up and listen to me, okay? What you're feeling is valid and normal and is in no way selfish or corrupted. I've been there too, remember? Years ago." He wobbles as he gets up, but he offers Osamu a hand and smiles wanly when he takes it. "I understand how you feel, alright? You don't have to go through this alone."

Osamu sniffs, and is silent save for a few muffled sobs when he speaks again, "Fuck, I hate this. I'm sorry for getting mad."

"It's okay," Kiyoomi says quietly. "I'm sorry too. For pushing you."

"I kinda deserved that, though."

Kiyoomi elbows him lightly. "But honestly, Osamu, I know what you feel okay? Maybe not the exact same emotions but… " He drifts off, and sighs as he looks up at the dim night sky. "It's hard, isn't it?"

"Tell me about it," Osamu grumbles weakly. "I got drunk a few nights ago and had sex with this one girl." He turns to Kiyoomi with a bittersweet smile. "I'm pretty sure I accidentally called her Rin's name."

Snorting tiredly, Kiyoomi says, "I know it's a bit confusing and frustrating at first, with how you feel and everything, so call me if you need anything, okay?" When Osamu nods, he adds, "After all, Atsumu's been kicking me out of our house lately so Suna could stay over, so I have lots of free time."

"I don't like sleeping in our room if Rin isn't there," Osamu admits under his breath. "You can stay over whenever, if ya want."

"That'd be nice."

"We could hold a pity party and continue to have our hearts shattered together."

And Kiyoomi laughs, in a way he hadn't been able to for the past week. It's broken around the edges, but he grabs for the two extra bottles he and Osamu had bought and hands over one to him. Osamu takes it wordlessly.

Kiyoomi raises his bottle and ignores the throbbing sting within his ribs. "Cheers to being second best?"

"Yeah." Osamu smiles sadly, clinking his bottle against his. "Cheers to being second best."

///

It's a universally acknowledged truth that one day, Rintarou is going to reach his limit and actually murder Osamu in his sleep.

"Where have you been?" he demands the second Osamu walks through their front door. "It's nearly 1 in the morning, and I came home to find the door unlocked, and–" He stops abruptly when Osamu faces him, eyes blinking in disbelief. "Your hands are bleeding. Why are they bleeding?"

Osamu's eyes are downcast. "I fell."

Bullshit, Rintarou thinks as he watches Osamu rummage through their top shelf for the first aid kid. He pulls out the gauze and bandages, but he winces when it makes contact with his skin.

"Give it to me," Rintarou says softly. "I'll do it."

"Rin, you don't have to–"

"I'll do it," he insists, and Osamu stops, letting Rintarou take the materials from his hand. He drags Osamu over to the table, nudging him towards the seat and sitting on the other.

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?" he asks, pressing the cloth against Osamu's cuts. Osamu grimaces and shuts his eyes tight, and Rintarou tries to be gentler.

"Yer surprisingly good at this," Osamu mutters. 

"I have to be." Rintarou decides to humor him before urging for answers again. "Especially because my best friend is the biggest dumbass known to mankind and kept falling and tripping when he was younger. I thought I was done with having to do this kind of thing every time you and Atsumu got a new bruise. Now–" he pauses, walking over to the countertop and filling a basin with warm water, placing Osamu's hands in it and staring him square in the eye. "What happened?"

Osamu clenches his jaw. "I was with Kiyoomi."

"What- Kiyoomi did this?"

"No! Christ, I meant… " He sighs, and Rintarou's incredulity dissipates. "He was with me when I- I tripped and scraped my hands on the sidewalk."

Biting the inside of his cheek, Rintarou doesn't respond. He doesn't know who Osamu's trying to fool; he knows there's something Osamu's isn't telling him. Still, he chooses to nod instead, and Osamu visibly relaxes when Rintarou drops the subject.

He covers up the last of Osamu's wounds with a bandage. "Thanks, Rin," he says with a smile. Fake. Osamu stands up to leave, but Rintarou grabs him by the wrist, staring hard at the tabletop.

"You weren't home last night," he says. He can almost feel the way a frown starts to pull on Osamu's lips. "And the night before that. You… " Rintarou exhales lightly. "Where do you go when I'm over at Atsumu's?"

"Oh, is that it?" Osamu laughs, and it seems like all his usual loud, happy laughs, but this one sounds almost… wrong. "I go out too, Rin. I meet other people, and I get to know them, and, well–" He throws Rintarou a crooked grin. "Things escalate from there."

Rintarou isn't sure if the slight twinge in his heart is his imagination or not. He imagines Osamu with someone else, in someone else's bed, and almost immediately recoils from the mental image. He feels his insides freeze, shatter, and then freeze together again all wrong.

"That's- That's gross, 'Samu," he manages to get out. "I didn't need to know that."

Osamu scoffs. "Your fault for asking."

Rintarou hesitates, before he questions again, "Have you met anyone interesting?" He cringes at his choice of words, before telling himself to get his shit together.

"There was this one girl." Osamu turns his back to him and stretches his arms over his head, the old gray sweater Rintarou's been pestering at him to give up already riding up his midriff and exposing the slightest strip of skin. "Anyways, Rin, I'm gonna clean up and turn in for the night." He looks back once to offer an odd smile. It doesn't reach his eyes. "It's late, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Rintarou ignores the sinking feeling blossoming in his core. "I'll catch up with you in a moment."

He watches Osamu retreat into their bedroom, trying to figure out the tightness in that smile.

Almost two weeks have passed since then. He's in the skating rink with Atsumu today, because the burning weather has been absolutely torturous lately and Rintarou needs a much-needed break from all that sun. 

"Hey," Atsumu says, settling himself beside him on the bench. He hands Rintarou a slushie. "You feeling okay?"

Taking a sip from his drink – raspberry, Rintarou thinks fondly, his favorite – he tries for a smile, "Yeah. Thanks."

Atsumu hums in acknowledgement, but there's a furrow in his brows and Rintarou knows something's bothering him. He gently prods Atsumu with his shoulder. "What about you? Is everything okay?"

"Sunarin," Atsumu says instead, turning to face him. "Am I doing this whole dating thing correctly? I can't help but think that… you'd rather be somewhere else right now."

Rintarou nearly drops his drink. His head swivels, blinking in shock. "What? No, 'Tsumu, I- That's not it. You're just as amazing as a boyfriend as you are as a friend."

Atsumu doesn't look too convinced. He rubs a thumb over his knuckles, and he says in a voice just above a whisper, "I don't know why, but I find myself missing ya even though you're right beside me. You've been acting… kinda distant lately."

"I'm sorry if I seem distracted," Rintarou apologies quietly. "There's just something on my mind."

"Will ya tell me what it is?"

He contemplates for a split-second, before admitting, "It's 'Samu. He's been weird recently and I can't help but think it's my fault."

Concern immediately paints Atsumu's face. "Wait, he hasn't been telling me anything. What do you mean?"

"He–" Rintarou inhales sharply. "He's been avoiding me. It's like… he's uncomfortable when I'm around. He's barely home nowadays, always going out at late hours of the night and coming back the next morning smelling like alcohol." He looks up and wills himself not to cry in this very public place, with his very loving boyfriend, his slushie freezing in his hands. "I'm worried for him."

"I'm sure he's fine," Atsumu reassures soothingly. "'Samu just gets like that sometimes when there's a lot on his mind. I doubt he's avoiding ya, or feels uncomfortable around ya." He wraps an arm around Rintarou's shoulder, and Rintarou tries to lean into the touch. "He'll talk to you if something's wrong. Trust me."

"Yeah." Rintarou swallows and lets Atsumu engulf him in a hug. "Thanks, 'Tsumu."

"Don't you dare spill any of that drink on me," Atsumu jokes with a light laugh. "This is my favorite shirt."

Rintarou glares up at him with a half-hearted scowl, but all Atsumu does is giggle endearingly. He cups his hands over Rintarou's cheeks then, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss against his forehead.

"I really like you, Rin," he mutters, breath hot against Rintarou's skin.

Sniffling, Rintarou huffs out a breathy laugh. "Christ," he says under his breath, waving aside thoughts of gray, hooded eyes and quiet smiles and the smell of cheap tequila on his bed. "Have I ever told you how amazing you are?"

///

"Omi?" Atsumu calls the second he arrives home. Shoving his shoes aside, he looks up to see Kiyoomi emerging out of their room, clearly dressed for going out, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

Atsumu blinks. "Are ya… Are ya going somewhere?"

"Yep," Kiyoomi replies. He says it too fast. "The library."

"Again?"

"Yes, again." The shadow of a half-smile dances on his lips. "I've got a few more assignments to catch up on."

"Oh," Atsumu mumbles. He remembers what Suna's said about Osamu barely being home, and wonders if the same thing is happening to him and Kiyoomi. "Will ya be back in time for dinner?"

Kiyoomi hums thoughtfully, before shrugging his shoulders. "I'm not sure. If I'm not back by 7, you can go ahead and eat, okay?"

Atsumu worries his bottom lip, waiting for a second before he asks. "Are ya avoiding me?"

This time, it's Kiyoomi to blink in surprise. He smiles. "Of course not. What makes you think that, 'Tsumu?"

Shrugging helplessly, Atsumu sighs. "Nevermind. Just… don't overwork yourself or anything, alright? Ya can talk to me if there's something bothering you, ya know that right?"

"I do." Another smile, but it's off. "I'll get going now, okay?"

Atsumu nods. He watches Kiyoomi's retreating figure and wonders why it's suddenly so hard for him to breathe.

Kiyoomi isn't back by 7. Or 8. Or 9.

It's a quarter past 10 when he finally comes home, padding into their room and silently taking off his clothes.

Atsumu lets out a little sound at the back of his throat, and Kiyoomi freezes in the darkness.

"Atsumu?" he calls out softly. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

Atsumu grunts in response. "Was already awake."

A pause. And then, Kiyoomi asks in that same soft voice, "Did you eat?'

"I did. But it's lonely without ya."

Sighing tiredly, Kiyoomi says, "I'm sorry for coming back so late. I met someone at the library."

"Oh." Atsumu pushes back the uncomfortable strain growing within his ribs. "Was she pretty?"

"Maybe. She wasn't really my type."

Atsumu makes an affirmative noise and decides to stop asking so many questions. He doesn't think of the way his chest tightens and his throat feels like it's been clogged. He doesn't think of Kiyoomi with some nameless, pretty girl, like all the other perfect, straight couples out there. He doesn't think of how Kiyoomi looked at that moment, his shirt gone, pale skin almost glowing under the moonlight and moles dotting his body like stars.

Atsumu doesn't think of any of these things. He tries to fall asleep.

It's not until 1 in the morning when he finally feels hot, wet tears falling freely past his cheeks.

Atsumu tries to believe he's happy. He wants to believe it. He's happy with his boyfriend, but there's something, a nagging little prick, that hasn't been sitting right with him in the back of his head lately.

He figures it out the next time Rintarou stays over for the night.

///

"So… " Kiyoomi starts, smiling weakly when Osamu pulls out the stool beside him and plops down on it. "How're things going at your end?"

"Horrible," Osamu scoffs, twirling the straw of his drink in his hand. "I just- I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that I'm not completely–" he sighs and buries his face in his hands– "straight."

"You don't have to label yourself as anything if you don't want to," Kiyoomi reminds gently, and Osamu exhales another sigh.

"I feel awful, Kiyo," Osamu confesses, frowning at the plastic cup in his hands. "I feel like a piece of my heart shatters and shrivels every time I see them together."

From beside him, he hears Kiyoomi take in a shaky breath. "I know what you mean," he says, exhausted. "Atsumu brought Suna over again last night. I couldn't even bring myself to be in the same room as them for five minutes without feeling like my lungs might collapse. I made up some excuse, in the end– said I was going to stay over at Motoya's or something. Sometimes I wonder if it'd be easier for me if I just moved out."

"I get that," Osamu swallows, before forcing out a choked laugh. "Fuck. I feel like I'm being… possessive over Rin. I hate being this way."

Kiyoomi glances at the ceiling and breathes out a sigh. "Yeah," he whispers. "Tell me about it."

"Do you want anything?"

Osamu frowns, shifting his phone to his left ear and tipping his head back on the couch. "What?"

"I'm in the mall right now," Rin explains, and a rustle is heard on his side of the call before he speaks again. "Do you need anything for me to buy?"

"Nothing in particular," Osamu replies after a pause. "Wait. Why are ya in the mall? You rarely ever go there because, well. You're lazy as fuck."

He hears Rin laugh, a sharp, beautiful sound that travels straight to Osamu's core. "God, 'Samu, I can go out sometimes. This crowd is nothing."

"Are ya sure?" Osamu asks playfully, almost on instinct. "You might get lost. Hell, can you even see five feet ahead of you? Because, you know, yer posture is so bad, it takes five inches of you're actual height–"

"I will obliterate you," Rin deadpans, and Osamu fights a smile. It's genuine this time, unlike all the other smiles and grins he's been giving Rin these past few weeks. He can almost believe that everything is alright between them again. That Rin and his brother aren't dating.

He forces down the lump lodged in his throat and tries for a snort. "Rin, ya may be just a centimeter or so taller, but I'm way stronger. You on the other hand? You're dead built like a baked bean."

"A baked bean?" Rin asks incredulously. "Seriously, 'Samu?"

Feeling his lips quirk upwards, Osamu hears Rin scoff into the phone. "I hate you. I can literally hear you grinning."

"You know me so well, Rin."

"Too well," Rin grumbles. "And because I know you so well, I know for a fact that there's a high probability you're gonna skip dinner tonight. For someone who cooks so much and forces me to eat like, seven meals a day, I know you've been skipping meals lately. I might be back late, okay? So don't wait up and make sure you eat."

Osamu hums thoughtfully. "You think I can make another recipe from Food Wars?"

"As long as it's the actual good meals. I do not want a repeat of last Christmas, thank you very much." Osamu bites back a smile, almost making out the way Rintarou shudders. "I don't want to come home to our kitchen smelling atrociously like peanut butter."

Osamu sighs dramatically, even when there are certain words sitting right on the tip of his tongue. He says instead, "How heartbreaking it is to see the lack of trust my best friend has in me."

He imagines Rin rolling his eyes. "Seriously, 'Samu. Stop skipping meals."

"How do ya know I'm skipping meals when yer always with 'Tsumu?"

"A gut feeling, I guess." Muted noises make their way into Osamu's ear at the other end of the line. "Eat properly, alright? I'm gonna get going now."

"Wait, Rin," Osamu calls out, just before Rin hangs up.

"Yeah?"

"Will ya… " He trails off, and tries to gather whatever conviction he has left. "Will ya be home tonight?"

Rin hums in contemplation. "I guess so, yeah. Atsumu's feeling kinda tired lately. Sad, almost. Which is why I'm here in the first place – so I could buy him something." He pauses, and Osamu holds in a breath. "Don't say anything. I'm buying stuff for you and Kiyoomi too."

"Oh."  Osamu tries to get his hands to stop shaking. "Okay, then."

"Yeah, so… I'll hang up now, alright?"

A second passes, and another, but Rin doesn't hang up. He waits on the other end of the line, before letting out a short sigh. "I feel like there's something you're not telling me."

"Rin."

"Yes?"

Osamu forces down a silent, trembling breath and stares hard at his lap. "I think I'm in love with you."

Rin calls him thirty times in the next two hours. Osamu wants to ignore every single one of them.

But this is still Rin, after all, and Osamu finds himself playing the sixth voicemail Rin left him before he can even yell at himself to stop.

"I'm still your best fucking friend, 'Samu." Rin's voice is hoarse and unsteady, the way Osamu knows it to be when he's cried for too long. It rarely happens though, and Osamu feels a stinging pang of guilt squeeze his chest. "So quit being such a fucking dumbass and come home already. It's late and I have no idea where you are and Atsumu's worrying his ass off too and Kiyoomi won't tell me anything and–" His voice cracks, and Osamu feels weighed down with regret. "Just… come back, you bastard. You have to explain a couple of things to me or I'm gonna start throwing your stuff out the window." 

"Here," Akaashi says once the voicemail ends, offering him a glass of water. Osamu takes it and chugs it all down in one go.

"Thank you," he says, unable to meet Akaashi's questioning gaze. "And I'm sorry too, for hiding myself in here so suddenly."

"I don't mind," Akaashi smiles, sitting beside him. "Although, I think I deserve an explanation. Did you and Suna get into a fight or something?"

"I–" Osamu bites the inside of his cheek. "I told him I love him."

Akaashi's eyes are fixated on the glass in his hands. "Oh."

"Ya don't sound so surprised."

"No, it's not that. It's just–" Akaashi pauses, before letting out a long breath. "I had my suspicions."

Letting out a dry laugh, Osamu asks with tears stinging his eyes, "That I wasn't straight?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Osamu," Akaashi puts in gently. "And it's not like I always knew. But when your brother and Suna started dating, then… "

He doesn't finish his sentence, but Osamu gets the gist of it. He sighs into his hands. "There goes thirteen years of us being together down the drain."

"Don't say that," Akaashi chides. "You know Suna won't push you away because of this. He cares for you more than you think, Osamu."

"The worst thing is," Osamu huffs bitterly, "I can't stop thinking of how 'Tsumu would feel once he finds out. Like, what happens when he finds out his own twin is in love with his boyfriend? I mean, Rin and I live together, and it's all such a mess because of me and… " He lets his eyes fall shut, feeling teardrops spill on his jeans. "I feel so horrible for ruining everything."

Akaashi stays quiet and shakes his head. He doesn't say anything besides that, and Osamu is grateful for it. He'd rather not hear empty words from anyone at the moment.

It's after a few moments have passed when Akaashi speaks up again. "I'm not gonna tell you what to do, or what to say," he starts slowly. "But I will tell you this: Suna, Sakusa, Atsumu… they all care for you. You guys have known each other for so long, and I may not be as close to them as you are, but at least I can say with full confidence that the three of them won't love you any less after this."

Osamu sniffs and lets out a shuddery exhale. "How do ya even know that?"

"I just do." Akaashi shoots him an odd, knowing smile. "Instinct, maybe?"

Casting his eyes to the ceiling, Osamu swallows hard. "I'm scared of going back."

"I know you are. But it's even scarier to not go back and leave all of this as it is, isn't it?"

Rin calls again. Osamu doesn't answer, but in the end, he thinks he knows what he should do.

///

"You've been second-guessing yourself for a whole day now, Osamu. Suna's been worrying his ass off wondering when you're gonna talk to him again. I think he's starting to get gray hairs."

"Oh, Lord," Osamu groans, rubbing a hand down his face. "I just- How am I supposed to approach this whole topic? 'Oh, sorry Rin, I recently found out I'm actually bisexual and I might have been crushing on you for the longest time now but was too dumb to realize, and now I've fucked everything up and ruined things with your boyfriend, who's also my brother' ?"

Kiyoomi hesitates. "When you put it that way… "

"What am I supposed to do, Kiyo?" Osamu asks, more like a rhetorical question than anything. "I don't–" He pauses, before turning to Kiyoomi with wide, alarmed eyes. "Wait a minute, does 'Tsumu know? That- That I like Rintarou?"

Something stabs at Kiyoomi's gut at the mention of Atsumu's name. He shakes his head. "I haven't told him yet, and neither has Suna." Chewing on his lip, he adds, "I feel like I missed my timing to tell him."

Osamu groans again, louder than the first. "I am literally the worst person on this planet."

"You're not," Akaashi asserts, joining them at the table. "Also, I really wish you guys could give me a heads-up before barging in here."

The last part was directed at Kiyoomi, and he blinks before offering Akaashi an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

"Like I said, it's fine," Akaashi says. "But a little heads-up next time?"

"Definitely," Kiyoomi grins.

"I am having the biggest crisis of my life," Osamu interjects, looking back and forth between them both, "and you guys are flirting."

Akaashi looks appalled. Kiyoomi can't say he looks any better. "We're not–"

"Yeah, yeah, I was kidding. Geez," Osamu mumbles with a fond roll of his eyes. "Kiyoomi over here is too in love with 'Tsumu to even notice anyone else, for some absurd reason."

"Like you're any better!" Kiyoomi protests, feeling a hot flush creep up to his neck. He fights it back.

"Wait a minute." Akaashi makes a time-out gesture with his hands. "So I was right?"

Shit.

Swallowing down a dry cough, Kiyoomi slowly turns to the other boy, forcing out an awkward laugh. "What do you mean?"

"You–" Akaashi's eyes widen from behind his glasses, and Kiyoomi wants to slap himself. And Osamu. "You like Atsumu. I always kinda guessed, but now–"

"And here I was thinking I was doing amazing in obscuring my hopeless pining," Kiyoomi cuts in, light-heartedly glaring at Osamu. "For real though, does everyone know I like Atsumu?"

"Not everyone," Osamu says with the smallest smile. "'Tsumu doesn't."

"Thanks for the reassurance."

"Any time," Osamu says pleasantly. He clasps his hands together. "Now, do any of ya know how the fuck am I supposed to talk to Rin after this?"

Akaashi pats him on the back consolingly. "Just talk to him."

"Let it all out," Kiyoomi adds.

"Be honest with how you feel."

"You guys are terrible," Osamu sighs, but he shoots them both the start of a tiny grin. "But thank you. For hearing my pathetic ass rant about my pathetic problems."

"Any time," Kiyoomi repeats sweetly. Osamu smacks him on the arm, but he watches as Osamu gets up a few minutes later, waving and thanking them for everything and promising he won't burrow himself anywhere if things don't go well, and Kiyoomi knows he'll be okay.

He wishes he could say the same for himself.

When he arrives back home, Atsumu is waiting for him on the couch.

"Were you… were you with 'Samu?" Atsumu asks, but it's not like the tone Kiyoomi knows him to have. It's hesitant, almost.

"Yeah." He tries not to meet Atsumu's eyes. "Akaashi, too."

"Oh." There's a long pause before Atsumu speaks up again, but something's wrong. His voice is quavering at the edges, and there's a tenseness to his shoulders that Kiyoomi hasn't noticed a few seconds back. "You've been spending a lot of time with 'Samu lately, huh?"

"Atsumu," Kiyoomi says instead, a frown crossing his lips. He steps forward, crouching to meet Atsumu's gaze. "Are you okay?"

Atsumu doesn't look at him. Kiyoomi pushes down the lump forming in his throat and tries again.

"'Tsumu," he presses carefully. "What's wrong?"

Shaking his head, Atsumu mumbles, "It's nothing. I- I'm being stupid."

"Atsumu."

"No, really, Omi, I'm fine!" He says it with the biggest grin, but it's too strained, too false. "I just got worried there for a second."

"Worried? About what?"

There's a crack in Atsumu's composure when the question leaves Kiyoomi's mouth, but he regains it too soon. "Well," he says with a flip of his hand, "of course I was worried about ya always going out this past few weeks, but knowing that yer with 'Samu–" He flashes Kiyoomi a sideways smile, but his eyes say something else entirely. "Now I've got nothing to worry about."

Pursing his lips, Kiyoomi opens his mouth, to ask for more and wonder what it is that Atsumu's not telling him. But Atsumu stands up before he can, stretching out his back and sparing Kiyoomi a single glance.

"Do ya want takeout for lunch?" Atsumu asks. "There's this new Chinese place I wanna try."

"Sure," Kiyoomi replies slowly, watching as Atsumu grabs for his wallet on the shelf. "Want me to come with?"

"It's fine," Atsumu says, too fast, and it aches. "It won't take long."

"Oh." Kiyoomi nods as Atsumu squats down to put on his shoes. "Okay."

He doesn’t even realize tears have started to fall until Atsumu's already closed the apartment door behind him. 

///

"Well," Rintarou starts dryly, but it's ruined with the way his eyes are horribly red and he can't for the life of him get his lower lip to stop quivering every few seconds. He crosses his arms, boring holes into Osamu's head. "Look who's here."

Osamu laughs nervously and darts his eyes around the room. "Yeah. Um. Hi, Rin."

"Don't fucking 'Rin' me," he spits, but it comes out like more of a croak. Osamu flinches at his tone, but Rintarou manages to catch the guilt crossing his face before Osamu's eyes become hell-bent on studying the tile pattern of their floor. "Explain."

It's barely there, but Osamu winces, and Rintarou swears he's never seen Osamu look so small. 

It hurts him more than he wants it to.

"Look, Rin," Osamu starts quietly, under his breath. "I'm really sorry. For everything. You're already dating 'Tsumu, but I was insensitive and inconsiderate and chose to say what I said despite knowing that. I don't want things to be ruined between the both of ya because of me, and I–" He trails off, before letting out a slow, shaky exhale. "I understand if ya want me to move out, or if ya don't want to live with me anymore after what I did."

"'Samu." Rintarou grits his teeth. "You are literally the biggest fucking dumbass alive."

Osamu looks so startled to hear that from him right now that his mouth falls open in silent shock. "I- Huh?"

Pining the other boy with his gaze, Rintarou continues, saying, "I don't even know if I should burst out laughing or break down crying. But I think I'd be better off laughing, because I've already cried for hours on end last night thanks to a certain someone."

"Rin, I'm really sorry–"

"Wait," Rintarou interjects, holding up a hand. "You can talk again in a bit, but I have questions I need answered or I might actually go insane."

Osamu hesitates. "What kind of questions?"

Rintarou takes one, long look at the boy in front of him, before signing through his nose and running a hand through his hair. "Did you mean it?" he asks, voice quiet.

"Mean what?"

"The… The thing that you said. On the phone."

"Oh," Osamu breathes softly, looking away again. "Of course I did."

"Osamu… " It's taking every ounce of Rintarou's strength to force himself back, to stay rooted to his place on the floor and not run to him, to not reach out and touch Osamu's hair the way he does every time they're on his bed. Once again, he chews his lip to stop it from trembling. 'You're not- You're not straight?"

"I guess not," Osamu replies bitterly. His smile is too forced. Rintarou hates that smile.

He takes in another breath. "And you–" Love, he wants to say, but he bites his tongue– "like me?"

"I do. I really, really do, Rin." Osamu shakes his head. "But I don't want my feelings for ya to stop what ya have with 'Tsumu."

"'Samu? You're the absolute worst, you know that?"

A dejected, defeated look falls on Osamu's face. "I know– "

"The absolute worst… " Rintarou continues, finally getting up and striding towards him. Even when he's right in front, Osamu still refuses to look at him. Rintarou sighs, and reaches down to brush a thumb beneath Osamu's eyelids. "For not knowing that, no matter what happens, I wouldn't trade living with your stupid, annoying ass for anything in the world."

Osamu blinks, and his tears drip onto Rintarou's hand. "Even now? Even after what I said? Ya don't care that I… "

"Of course I care," Rintarou interrupts, roughly. "How could I not? It's you, Osamu, and the world could crash and burn for all it matters and you'd be the first person I want to see okay. We've known each other since we were eight . It doesn't matter how hard I try, you'd always be first." He flutters his eyes close; there's still too much space between them, and he finds himself leaning into Osamu's shoulder, forehead bumping just where the collar of his shirt meets his skin. "You've grown to be far more important to me, and I hate you for even thinking otherwise."

"But… " Osamu stumbles, his arms reaching up to wrap itself around Rintarou like it's second nature. "But 'Tsumu… "

"You're my best friend, dumbass," Rintarou croaks out, but even to him, it doesn't sound right. There should be more than that, but he doesn't know what.

Osamu laughs, a little unsteady, but it's a shadow of his usual laughs that Rintarou had grown to be frustratingly fond of. "Still. I'm sorry again, Rin."

"Stop apologizing."

"Right. Sorry."

"Osamu."

And it's later that night when Osamu climbs into his own bed like he did all those weeks ago, and Rintarou finds himself stopping him before he can even think twice.

"Are ya sure?" Osamu hesitates, fumbling with his hands and teetering off the side of his bed. He gestures at Rintarou's side of the room. "You're okay with this? Me sleeping on yer bed?"

Rintarou clenches his jaw and looks Osamu straight in the eye. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Osamu stares at him back like he's grown a second head. "Because… " he starts, slowly, as if he's explaining something to a child. Rintarou wants to whack him. "I like you. Like, more than you think. But you're dating ‘Tsumu. Who's my brother." He runs his tongue across his lower lip. "I don't feel too good about this."

"It's not like you're gonna do anything to me, are you?" Rintarou asks, cocking a brow. 

That gets Osamu's attention. There's the faintest pink on the tips of his ears, but he shakes his head. "Never."

"Then, unless you really don't want to," Rintarou says through a sigh, "we can still continue being… you know, normal. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yeah, but… " Osamu bites his lip. Rintarou really wishes he would stop doing that so much. "Okay, but if you change yer mind, tell me immediately, alright?"

Rolling his eyes, Rintarou huffs, "You worry too much, ‘Samu."

A few minutes later, with the lights shut off and the soft ticking of their clock lulling them into a kind of stillness, does Rintarou feel his heartbeat turn thunderously loud. He can feel Osamu, ridiculously tense, beside him, and Rintarou pokes at his side to get him to loosen up.

"Stop worrying," he mutters. "I'm okay with us being like this."

"I see that," Osamu replies, just as quiet. "But is ‘Tsumu okay with it?"

Rintarou doesn't have an answer for that.

He's not sure how long he's been out, but he stirs awake when he feels Osamu toss and turn from beside him, restless.

Rintarou glances at the digital clock by his bed. 2:16 am.

"Is something wrong?" he asks groggily, shifting a little on the mattress.

"No," Osamu replies. And then, "Sorry for waking you up."

"S'okay."

Shutting his eyes once more, Rintarou waits for the exhaustion to wash over his body, but his efforts on trying to drowse off are cut short when Osamu's voice rings out in the darkness of their room.

"Rin?"

"What."

"Can I tell ya a secret?"

Fluttering his eyes back open, Rintarou stares up at Osamu sleepily, fighting back a yawn. "Can I stop you from telling me?"

Osamu laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Rintarou can't help but stare at the way it looks so sad. "I guess not," Osamu says softly, reaching down to brush flyaway strands of hair from his forehead. Surprisingly enough, Rintarou feels himself lean into the touch. Definitely the sleep-deprivation getting to him. "Does that mean I can tell ya?"

Rintarou sighs, but shrugs a shoulder anyway, using a hand to rub his eyes. "Honestly, your secrets scare me sometimes." Offering Osamu the start of a wry smile, he scoots down a bit on the bed so their gazes meet. "But, by all means, tell me."

Osamu heaves a light exhale at that, before meeting Rintarou’s gaze He looks so vulnerable, under the peaks of moonbeams spilling from his window, hair tousled and eyes sleepy and so–

Beautiful.

Something unfamiliar starts to settle deep somewhere in Rintarou's gut.

"Ya know," Osamu starts, turning away from him and looking up at the ceiling, "I used to be much taller than you – stop making that face, I'm not done yet – and ever since we were kids, it felt like I could carry ya around with me everywhere. Usually, I would find it so goddamn endearing, but sometimes… sometimes it hurts."

Rintarou frowns. He doesn't know if he likes where this is going. "Why?"

Osamu spares him a glance, but looks away just as quick, huffing out a tired laugh. "Because no matter how irritated ya get, or how tall ya grow, or scowl whenever I tease you, you just seem so small. I know ya said all those things earlier but… your heart isn't big enough for both me and ‘Tsumu to fit in there, is it?"

There's a pause. A few excruciating seconds of tense silence, until finally, Osamu shakes his head, turning his back towards him. "Nevermind," he whispers, to the dark, and to a boy who can't for the life of him sort out his feelings. "Forget I said anything."

Rintarou sighs. "You have got to get yourself a new head, ‘Samu."

A minute passes, then another, and he's just about to assume the other boy finally fell asleep when Osamu says in a voice smaller than Rintarou's ever heard–

"Yeah. Maybe I should."

He's quiet after that, but Rintarou's thoughts are deafeningly loud, almost painful, and he turns to gaze at the window beside his bed, at the silver moon waning bright above their heads.

Rintarou licks his lips and swallows down the dryness in his throat. "’Samu?"

"Hm?"

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

///

Atsumu comes across the tab by accident.

It's the first thing that pops up when he opens Google on Kiyoomi's phone, because his was dead and charging and he desperately wanted a break from all the crowding doubts and turmoil he's been feeling so much lately before Kiyoomi gets back from buying groceries. Apartment listings. 

A small bedroom apartment up for rent next month.

He doesn't know how long he ends up staring at the site, but he's forcefully brought back to reality when he hears the door hinge open. "I'm back," Kiyoomi greets, dropping the bags of groceries by the kitchen table. He frowns when he sees Atsumu with his phone. "Hey, what are you–"

"You're moving out?" Atsumu asks dazedly, blinking back his confusion. "You've been spending less time at home lately, and I tried not to worry too much but… " He stares up at Kiyoomi. "Have I done something wrong?"

Kiyoomi freezes like he's been slapped. "I- You shouldn't have–"

"Are you mad at me?"

"No," Kiyoomi breathes out after a heartbeat's pause. "No, of course not, Atsumu."

"Then… '' Atsumu swallows thickly and gestures at Kiyoomi's phone. "Why?"

Chewing on his bottom lip, Kiyoomi takes a seat on the couch beside him, bringing his knees up to his chest. "I don't want to get in the way of you and Suna every time you bring him over. This is better for all of us, isn't it?"

"Not for me," Atsumu blurts out immediately, before he backtracks and adds, "I mean, I won't let Sunarin stay the night here if yer not okay with it."

Kiyoomi stares down at his lap. "That'd just make me a horrible friend."

"It won't," Atsumu insists. "You live here too, after all. We all get busy and ya might have to stay up late sometimes, so if you don't want Rin to come over for a couple of nights, then–"

"What if I never want him to come over?"

Atsumu frowns. "What?"

"What if," Kiyoomi starts, gripping at the hem of his shirt, "it kills me every time you bring Suna into your bed? What if I'm awful and insensitive and greedy, and I can't stop thinking of what it'd be like if it was me instead? What if, all I've ever wanted, was for you to love me like that?"

"Kiyoomi–" Atsumu reaches out for his hand, but Kiyoomi pulls back.

"When you started dating Suna, I thought I'd be able to give you up," he continues quietly, clenching and unclenching his fist the way he does when he's anxious. "I told myself this was my sign to stop hoping, to let it go already because you were never mine to keep. And yet, for all the fucking things I’m good at, I just can’t seem to give up on you, ‘Tsumu.”

"You're kidding. Omi, tell me you're kidding." Atsumu’s voice shakes, and when he bites his lip he nearly tastes blood.

"Never," Kiyoomi huffs out with a shuddering laugh. "It's never a joke when it comes to you. It hurt like shit when I first realized. I was so confused, and scared, and it took some time before I finally got around to bottling everything up and acting normal again. But then… then there were times where I would feel the smallest flutter of hope that you might love me back.  Like those times you took care of me when I had a fever, or handed me your hoodies when I felt cold, or held my hand or looked me in the eye for a moment too long." He runs a hand through his curls and laughs bitterly. "That was pretty stupid of me, huh?"

"Omi, don't do this," Atsumu pleads. "Quit messing around."

"I'm not." Kiyoomi glances at the ceiling with a sigh. "The thing is… I've grown used to feeling like a second option. With Osamu and Suna for example, I was never first when it came to them. And with my family, I may have been the youngest, but my parents always loved my older, successful siblings more. I mean, top of the class and one of the top three aces in the country when I was just in highschool, but who cares, right?”

Tears start to fall when Kiyoomi blinks. It hurts, it hurts Atsumu so much to see him like this, but he can’t bring himself to move. Kiyoomi huffs out a quavering laugh, rubbing the skin around his eyes with his palms. "But with you, Atsumu, I finally felt like I could just be me. I thought that maybe, when it came to you, I was finally enough. I wanted to be the friend you turn to when you're worried, or hurt. I wanted to be the friend to hear about the thing that's gotten you so happy and excited, because I finally felt like I was somebody to someone. I wanted to be your first kiss too, and be the friend you fell in love with. And I still want all those things, is that selfish of me?”

A wet laugh slips from Kiyoomi's lips. "You see, ‘Tsumu, this whole time, I've watched you love someone else. I've watched how your hands wanted to hold, and how your legs wanted to chase after someone else. Like you'd forgotten that I've always been right here, beside you."

He shakes his head. "Because you love me – I know you do – but it's never in the way that I love you."

Kiyoomi licks his lips and lets out a breath. "I was thinking of finally telling you weeks ago, just to get it off my chest, but then you told me that you like Suna and…" He looks at Atsumu, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I didn't know what to do."

And Atsumu stares in disbelief, eyes so wide they're going dry, and Kiyoomi smiles sadly at the look on his face. But then his own twists up, and his whole body curls inward, shoulders shaking with each heavy breath he takes. This is Atsumu’s cue to rush to Kiyoomi's side, telling him everything was alright and he was here for him.

That's what Atsumu would normally do, but he can't bring himself to fucking move. He just keeps looking, but Kiyoomi won't look at him back. 

It's in those few seconds of suffocating stillness that everything slides into place.

Atsumu's hit with the strongest wave of nausea he's ever felt in his life. "How long…?" His jaw quivers. "Omi, how long have you even-"

"I don't know," Kiyoomi replies. "When we were 12? 11?" He shrugs his shoulders helplessly. Atsumu's chest has grown so tight that it feels like his ribs are collapsing in on his lungs, making it impossible for him to breathe. "Maybe a part of me has always loved you from the start." Kiyoomi smiles, but it’s weak and so sad . "You were always there for me, Atsumu. I couldn't escape it."

"I…" Atsumu flounders, trying and failing to make it all make sense.

Kiyoomi stands up and picks up his jacket. "Anyway," he says, voice wavering under the feigned attempt of normalcy, "I'm gonna get going now. I still have a few errands I want to finish."

"But–" It's getting late; where would he go? Kiyoomi hasn't even eaten dinner yet. He should stay here.

"Later, ‘Tsumu," he waves, not looking back, before Atsumu can even figure out what he wants to say.

Then Kiyoomi is gone, shutting the front door behind him, and Atsumu is left sitting on his spot on the couch, staring at the walls and feeling like the building is crashing down around him.

"’Tsumu?" Osamu asks in confusion, inching the door open the slightest bit more. "If yer looking for Rin, he isn't here–"

"Omi," Atsumu rushes out. "Is Omi here?"

"No?" Osamu's frown deepens. "He's not with you?"

Atsumu shakes his head and wills his tears not to fall. "He- He walked out and hasn't come back yet. He won't answer my calls, or reply to my texts, and it's been four hours and I tried not to worry but–"

"'Tsumu. Atsumu, it's okay," Osamu says quietly, carefully placing his hands on Atsumu's shoulders in an effort to calm him down. "I need ya to start from the beginning. What happened?"

"He–" Atsumu takes in a breath, praying for his lungs to work and for his heart to stop thudding so painfully against his chest. "We had an argument, and then he left, and I… I was wondering if he was here."

Osamu furrows his brows, but he doesn't press for more. "He hasn't said anything to me, either. But I think- I think you should leave him be for a while, 'Tsumu. Whatever argument you guys had, I have a feeling Kiyoomi wants to be alone right now. To collect his thoughts and everything." Osamu pulls him in for a hug, and Atsumu stifles a sob. "He'll be back, 'Tsumu. I know he will."

"What if he won't?"

"Really, 'Tsumu," Osamu scolds lightly, voice surprisingly gentle. "Kiyoomi always comes back to you in the end, doesn't he?"

Atsumu doesn't trust himself to speak, so he pushes back another threatening sob forming in his throat and nods.

///

"This is starting to feel an awful lot like déjà vu."

"Shut up, Osamu," Kiyoomi says the morning after, but it's weak and tired and unsteady. His eyes have grown red and puffy from crying on Osamu's shoulder the whole night. Osamu exhales softly at the memory.

"He's waiting for ya, by the way," he tells Kiyoomi. "Has been since last night."

Kiyoomi lets out a breath and runs his hand down his face. "I guessed that."

"You're gonna talk to him soon at least, right?"

"Of course I will," Kiyoomi mutters. "Not like I have much of a choice."

"Now that's the spirit!" Osamu says with the biggest grin he can manage, slowly turning genuine when Kiyoomi cracks the smallest of smiles.

Yeah, Osamu thinks quietly. He'll be fine.

They both will.

///

It takes another two days, but Kiyoomi thinks he's finally got enough courage in him to confront Atsumu. Which is good, because as much as he loves Osamu, he was starting to get tired of being ambushed with seemingly inspirational pep-talks throughout the day.

And, frankly, he can't help but wonder whether Atsumu's doing okay.

He's got this, he tells himself repeatedly on the walk to his apartment. It shouldn't be too hard.

And yet, all that is thrown out the window when Atsumu flies open the door before Kiyoomi even gets the chance to knock, his hand suspended in mid-air, the other boy looking like he hadn't slept since Kiyoomi last saw him.

"Omi," Atsumu chokes out, staring at him like he can't believe he's here, before reaching out and trapping Kiyoomi in his arms. "Fuck, I was so scared, and so worried, even though I shouldn't have been because Osamu called yesterday, but I couldn't help thinking you would hate me or something–"

"Hey, Atsumu, it's okay. I'm here," Kiyoomi whispers softly, slowly untangling himself from Atsumu's limbs. "Let's go inside first, alright?"

They do, and by the time they're seated, the knot in Kiyoomi's gut has grown so much it's impossible to ignore. 

There's a long minute of stretched-out silence, the only sounds in the room being Atsumu's trembling breathing and the roar of Kiyoomi's pulse in his ears.

Atsumu looks up, finally, chest heaving as he takes in a heavy breath. "Omi, I- I honestly don't know what to think. About everything. It's all so confusing, and scary, but… " He swallows, and Kiyoomi watches the way his eyes flicker back to his lap. "But I want things to be okay between us."

Kiyoomi sighs mutedly after another grueling moment, when Atsumu doesn't say anything else after that, even when the expression on his face says otherwise. "Yeah, it's- I know what I said was really… unexpected, but–" Kiyoomi drifts off, choking back the words he wants to say and going for the safer, easier option instead. "I don't want to be awkward around you, of all people," he says softly.

Atsumu blinks, which only causes tears to tumble down his cheeks. Hesitantly, he asks, "Are… are we cool?"

"Yeah." But there's so many things that Kiyoomi wants to say, wants to ask, but Atsumu is looking at him hopefully and Kiyoomi pushes down the bile in his throat. He smiles. "We're cool, Atsumu."

The words fall like stones to the bottom of a lake, heavy and final.

///

A week later, Rintarou gets a text from Atsumu, asking him to meet up in the café a few streets away.

"'Samu?" he calls out, making his way towards the bathroom. He knocks on the door. "I'm going out for a bit, okay?"

He hears the shower stop running, and it's a few seconds of waiting until Osamu inches open the door and pops his head out. Rintarou's eyes follow the droplet of water running down Osamu's naked collarbone, watching as it dips down into his chest, before he forcefully wretches away his gaze and looks Osamu in the eye.

There's a red tint to his cheeks. "Going out where?" Osamu asks, mindlessly brushing a hand through his damp hair.

Rintarou swallows. "Atsumu texted." Tentatively, he adds, "Is it okay with you?"

Osamu laughs. "I'll be fine, Rin. Go meet yer boyfriend."

"He's not my–" Rintarou halts, immediately recoiling at his own words. He looks back to see Osamu staring at him with an expression Rintarou can't quite read, and he shakes his head and hopes Osamu didn't catch what he said. "Nevermind."

An uneasy silence settles among them, before Osamu asks, "Will you be back by tonight?"

"Hopefully," Rintarou answers without thinking, and instantly recedes. "I mean, possibly. I won't be gone for more than an hour."

"Oh." Osamu nods. "Okay."

Rintarou's out the door after that. There's been a twist in his stomach since that night, tightening and curling up inside of him, and all he can think of is how he can't ignore it anymore.

Not like this.

///

"What's up?" Suna asks hesitantly, looking over at Atsumu through his glass of lemonade.

"I've been thinking…" Atsumu starts softly, closing his eyes. He opens them again when he's certain he knows what he wants to say. "This- This isn't working out, is it?"

Suna freezes. "Atsumu-"

"Because I like ya, I really do," Atsumu says, "and I think you're awesome and amazing in every way, ever since we were younger, but…" His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. "But there's someone else who loves you more than I do. And I think ya love him back, too."

Blinking furiously, Rintarou tries to speak up again, but Atsumu shakes his head, stopping him.

"It's okay, Sunarin. I get it. Being with you these past two months was amazing. I loved every minute of it," Atsumu whispers, voice softer than any outsider could expect from him. He inhales long and hard, before adding, "But I think I've been thinking of someone else this whole time."

He glances up to see Suna's shoulders loosen by a margin. Almost like he's been expecting it. He smiles, soft and pretty, and asks, "Kiyoomi?"

"Yeah." Atsumu swallows. "Kiyoomi."

Because Atsumu's come to realize that, the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up in the morning, before grimacing at his horrible morning breath, is whether or not Kiyoomi slept enough the previous night. Because this whole time, whenever Atsumu's upset, or frustrated, or lonely, it's Kiyoomi he wants to talk to first. And also because, whenever Atsumu closes his eyes, he imagines him and Kiyoomi in their room on one bed with the other forgotten, the taste of Kiyoomi's lips on his own.

He tries not to let his thoughts drift any further than that. Focusing back on Suna, he asks with a weak smile, "Have ya always known?"

"Not always," Suna replies, taking a sip from his drink. "But recently I've realized that… whenever you held me, it felt like you were thinking of someone else." He chuckles lightly. "And I guess it didn't pass by me how you never kissed me on the lips."

Oh. Atsumu feels himself falter. "Rin, I never even realized–"

Suna smiles comfortingly. "It's fine, 'Tsumu. I've done the same thing, haven't I?" He stops when he catches the look on Atsumu's face, and immediately backtracks. "Wait, really? I did?"

"I mean," Atsumu says, laughing nervously and rubbing his neck, "I kinda noticed how, whenever I say something like 'I like you', you never really said it back. And, uh–" He clears his throat, feeling heat on his cheeks as he averts his gaze. "You've been saying 'Samu's name in your sleep."

"Oh my God," Suna breathes out. He buries his face in his hands, letting out a mortified groan, a faint scarlet tint peeking at the corners. "That was horrible and insensitive of me. What- Why did you never mention it until now?"

"I guess I was scared," Atsumu admits. "Shit, we're bigger idiots than we thought, huh?"

"We really are," Suna agrees, letting out a sigh. He stands up then, stretching until his spine makes an audible pop, and Atsumu follows suit. 

"So," Atsumu grins sheepishly, holding out his arms. "Can we hug one last time? As boyfriends?"

Suna laughs. "You're such a sap," he says, but he leans in anyways, and Atsumu sighs into his shoulder, feeling Suna's body pressed against his.

Suna steps back, but Atsumu holds his arms out once more. "Okay, great, now let's hug again," he says. Before Suna can question it, Atsumu clarifies, "To us being back to friends. No hard feelings included."

"And to us now being ex-boyfriends, maybe?" Suna asks.

Atsumu grins, even when the words sting just the tiniest bit. "And ex-boyfriends."

And when Suna steps back again with the beginning of a smile on his lips, Atsumu's thoughts come home to his best friend, of twin moles and soft curls and beautiful, breathtaking smiles. A piercing throb shoots through his entire body.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Atsumu tells Suna, "I have someone important I need to talk to."

He finds Kiyoomi on the rooftop.

"Hi," he greets softly. Kiyoomi smiles in lieu of an actual response, small, and a little bit sad, but real.

Atsumu sucks in a long breath before he speaks again. Clearing his throat, he says as he glances at the night sky, "I broke up with Sunarin."

At that, Kiyoomi swivels his head, the threat of new tears forming in his eyes and looking like his heart had just dropped to his stomach. "Atsumu, I… "

He wavers, and Atsumu wants to reach out to him and pull him close, but Kiyoomi backs away, his head down and looking at nothing but the bustling city below them. "I'm so sorry. It's all my fault, and now I've ruined things between you and Suna when I had no right to–"

"Omi," Atsumu cuts in, raising his hands to Kiyoomi's face and brushing a thumb across his cheek. "Will you listen to what I have to say first?"

It takes four heartbeats, but finally, Kiyoomi nods.

Swallowing, Atsumu looks directly into Kiyoomi's eyes. They're a bit glassy, but now, knowing what he knows, Atsumu lets himself look. At the lovely green color of his eyes and the dip of his neck and the way the corner of his lips quivers as Atsumu allows his hand to trail lower. The way his heart clenches is almost excruciating as he drags his fingers to trace the line of Kiyoomi's jaw.

He lets his hand drop and settles his arms against the ledge of the roof instead. "Rin and I… " he starts, "we liked each other. It was nice, being with him, but–"

"But I want to continue living with you," Atsumu continues, after a second's pause. "I want to eat breakfast, and lunch, and dinner with you, too. I want to wake up and see yer face buried in a book and watch as the sunlight curves on your cheeks because you don't know how beautiful you are by just being. I want to sleep with ya on the same bed under the same blanket and smell your weird vanilla scent with your back pressed against my chest." He glances at Kiyoomi then, who's staring back at him with a sort of confused, flushed look that makes Atsumu want to damn everything to hell and crash their lips together. "Because the thing is, I think I've wanted you from the start, but you were always by my side, so I never really realized."

"Atsumu… " Kiyoomi's exhale is loud, shuddering. "I- I don't understand–"

"I know I'm a few years too late," Atsumu mumbles quietly. "And I know I've hurt you, and made you cry, and put you through all this pain that you will never, ever deserve. I guess what I'm trying to say is… thank you, for never leaving my side. I really, really, really like you, Kiyoomi. Maybe even more than that. And most importantly–" He turns to look at Kiyoomi again, who's looking right back at him with drops of tears sliding down his cheeks and onto the ground– "I'm sorry."

Kiyoomi's crying, but there's that beautiful, breathtaking smile on his face that Atsumu swears he's got memorized. "It's okay, Atsumu," he whispers. "Really."

"And I also want to apologize, for being such an idiot."

"Well," Kiyoomi huffs out a wet laugh, "At least you know now."

"Yeah." Atsumu tries for a smile. "But, I understand if I'm too late for this. I- I've hurt you, Omi, and I don't want to make the same mistake again–"

Kiyoomi shakes his head. "You won't," he says. Like it's a promise. "I know you won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you're you , 'Tsumu. After sticking to you for the last decade or so, I think it's safe to say that I know you better than I know myself."

Atsumu slips out a laugh, but he can't help the pull in his heart when he thinks of everything he's done. Sighing, he says, "But, truth be told, I'm a mess, Omi. I think- I think I need a bit of time, just to gather my thoughts once more so I don't end up with any more regrets. I don't want to mess this up."

"That's okay." Kiyoomi says it easily, softly, lips curving just the smallest of fractions. "I can wait. I'm good at that, remember?"

And Atsumu reaches out tentatively, Kiyoomi grasping his hand and lacing their fingers together, a slight tremble in his hands. Atsumu stares at him, engraving every line, every beautiful imperfection into his mind, and lets out a slow breath.

It's not enough, and they both let go at the same time only to collapse forward into each other, chests crushing together and feeling the dull thud of Kiyoomi's heartbeat on his.

Atsumu breathes in the feeling of Kiyoomi's skin and feels something finally settle inside of himself. They slide into each other so perfectly, he thinks with a smile, arms around each other's neck and waist. Warmth unfurls from every point of contact and spreads slowly through his body, liquid and burning.

"Why me, Atsumu?" Kiyoomi mumbles after a moment, breath warm against the shell of Atsumu's ear.

There are several answers for that really, several and countless words waiting to be said at the tip of Atsumu's tongue. But he swallows them back, because they have enough time and he can say it when this starts to feel real. He glances at the star-littered sky for one, brief moment, before burying his face and sighing into the curve of Kiyoomi's body.

"You remind me of home," he whispers, a quiet prayer into the crook of Kiyoomi's neck. "You always have. So no matter how far I let my thoughts wander, they always, inevitably, trail back home to you."

///

It’s a month later and Osamu is standing in Kiyoomi and Atsumu's kitchen again, munching on a handful of cookies. It feels a little like déjà vu from their last game night, when Rin and Atsumu had started dating and Osamu had been too conflicted and focused on the two to pay attention to anything else.

This time, however, it's Atsumu who stands next to him, the both of them watching in barely-concealed amusement as Rin and Kiyoomi argue heatedly from where they're seated on the floor.

"What the fuck even is a tazone?" Rin yells exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air.

"It's Spanish for bowl!" Kiyoomi counters, slamming his hand against the carpet. 

"Wha- How do you even know that?"

"I just do!"

"Spanish words don't count! They shouldn't count!"

"They're still words, Suna!"

“I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to get this intense over Scrabble, of all things,” Osamu muses with a grin, leaning against the kitchen's countertop.

Beside him, Atsumu hums in agreement, stealing a cookie from Osamu's hand. “Do ya think we should stop them?”

Osamu glances over at him. He's smiling fondly despite the growing chaos around them, a smitten look in his eye. If it was still a few weeks ago and Osamu didn’t know any better, he would think the look was directed towards Rin, that maybe Atsumu still had some lingering feelings for him.

But Osamu does know better. “Why?” he asks, shooting Atsumu a mocking smile. “Because you know that my boyfriend is right and yours is wrong?"

Atsumu rolls his eyes with a huff. “Like Omi said, Spanish words are still words. It should count, 'Samu."

"Fine, then!" They both hear Rin exclaim, grabbing for the letters on his rack and smacking them on the board, in a way too aggressive for something as mere as a game. It's adorable. "I'll just add 'oxyphenbutazone' to your 'tazone'."

"Fucking hell," Kiyoomi curses, but there's the upward quirk to his lips as he stares at the word in a mix of awe and indignation. "What the everliving fuck is that?"

"It's a word, Kiyo," Rin comments with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Search it up." He sits back and smiles in smug satisfaction. Osamu wants to kiss him.

He and Atsumu exchange a knowing look. “Whoever’s boyfriend throws the Scrabble board first buys lunch for all four of us tomorrow?” Osamu suggests, and Atsumu grins all the way to the tips of his ears.

He reaches out and shakes Osamu's outstretched hand. “You’re on."

i can't promise you very much.

the fragile side of love is the only side there is;

but i promise i i will love you until i stop loving you.

and when that happens, i'll start again.

— salma d.