Chapter Text
Breaking into his own house was laughably easy.
Atsumu’s mother had always left the spare key under the upper right corner of the welcome mat. His father had tried to convince her to hide it in a more secure hiding spot, like under one of the many plant pots on their front porch, but his mother had insisted on the rug. When Atsumu asked her why she had told him that because the welcome mat was the most obvious hiding spot people wouldn’t look under it for the spare key, they would spend their time trying to find it under the many, many plant pots.
Misdirection, she had told him, was an incredibly powerful tool. It was a way to hide something in seemingly plain sight.
Atsumu had never quite understood his mother’s logic. In his opinion both under the rug and under the plant pots were incredibly predictable hiding spots for the spare key. But maybe his mother was right, in all the time they had lived here no one had ever broken into their home.
Besides Atsumu himself, but he didn’t really think that counted since he lived here.
After he pulled the key out from under the rug, Atsumu unlocked the door and walked in. He made sure to lock the door once he shut it, even going so far as to test the handle. It wasn’t really necessary, the door always made a horribly loud creaking noise when it opened which would be more than enough to alert him should anyone come home earlier than expected.
He made his way over to his and Osamu’s shared bedroom where he dropped his bag on Osamu’s bed and plopped onto his bed. Atsumu laid back on his bed staring up at the ceiling and letting his mind drift.
Today, he mused, had been a particularly good day. For the first time in a while, Atsumu had actually been able to finish all of his breakfast and not have to rush to get ready for school. He had woken up earlier than usual, and more importantly, earlier than Osamu. This meant that he was able to shower first and use as much hot water as he wanted to without it ever turning cold. He ate breakfast slowly while enjoying the warmth from the sunlight streaming through the windows. At school, focusing in class was much easier than usual and Atsumu had even volunteered to answer a few questions during class.
After playing volleyball in physical education class, Atsumu had faked a stomach ache and got sent home. Osamu had wanted to walk him home, he had always been a bit of a worry rat, but Atsumu had declined and insisted that he would be fine. Walking home by himself was nice, he had stopped several times to stare up at the clouds and daydream and could roll down the grassy hills as much as he wanted to without getting scolded by his brother.
Now he laid on his bed and relaxed. The homework he had in his backpack to do wasn’t a particularly pressing matter for Atsumu, it wasn’t like he was going to need to do it. However, there was one thing that he needed to get done as soon as possible, preferably before anyone else got home.
Atsumu sat up, leaned against the headboard of his bed, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He clicked on the camera app and switched the function from photo to video. Atsumu cleared his throat and fidgeted with his hair, trying to get it to lie flat. Once he was happy with how his hair looked on the screen, he took a deep breath and hit the red button on the center of his phone screen.
“Hi. Uh, this is Miya Atsumu. I’m fourteen years old.”
He paused.
“And if you’re listening to this, it means I’m dead.”
Atsumu stared at the screen of his phone for a few moments, mind blank, before heaving a sigh and hitting the cancel button. He cracked his back, brushed his hair flat once more with his fingers, then restarted.
“Hi. This is Miya Atsumu. I’m fourteen years old. And if you are listening to this, it means I’m dead. I’m gonna have this sent to Osamu, I would also send this to a lawyer or something because I saw in a movie that they give people the stuff from their wills but I don’t know any lawyers so this will have to do, I guess. I just want to record this to say that Osamu gets all my stuff when I die. I don’t really have any friends to give anything to so I guess ‘Samu gets everything.”
“I also wanted to record this to say that no one should go blaming mom or dad or ‘Samu, I am the one who wants to die and they didn’t kill me or anything. I’ve seen those cop shows where they think the family did it so I wanted to make sure that the authorities don’t blame anyone else for my death.”
“So... yeah. Mom, dad, ‘Samu I love you. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for being a horrible brother and a terrible son. I know I haven’t been the best, I’m loud, rude and annoying. And I’m really sorry about all of that. I’m sorry I’m not the son or brother you deserveMake sure to show this to the police if they think you guys killed me or something. Bye, I love you.”
He saved the video to a file and set up a security password, added Osamu’s contact, and created a daily delay button. This system assured that the video would be automatically sent to Osamu unless Atsumu hit the delay for 24 hours button. It was a sort of failsafe, so that if he didn’t get the chance to write a note the video would say all that he would want to write.
Atsumu shut his phone off and stared up at the ceiling. He had honestly thought that he would cry while making the video and was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t.
He really could get used to this apathy thing.