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“Wake up, ‘Samu.” Another nudge to his shoulder. “Wake up, wake up, wake up—”
Osamu swats at the figure looming over him, too tired to care that he definitely swung in the wrong direction.
“Go away, lemme sleep, shithead.”
Atsumu seems to have not heard him, persisting in his efforts to dig himself an early grave as he has been for the last five minutes, clearly not picking up on the fact that Osamu is sleeping. Or, was sleeping. Despite the fact that he is only half awake, Osamu resorts to murmuring all sorts of profanities at his brother in hopes of some semblance of peace. He might be too tired to put up a real fight, but in the end, he is too much of a Miya to sit there and take the unsolicited nagging without doing something.
He groans into his pillow without much luck, trying and failing to kick his brother, his limbs still heavy at the mercy of sleep.
He can’t hear much from under his pillow — thankfully — a temporary solution at the least. But Atsumu is speaking quickly and frantically, clearly worked up about something or another. Considering Osamu can take anywhere from 2-3 hours to actually wake himself up (on a good day at least), Atsumu’s muffled ramblings go unheard. They are mere sounds to Osamu’s ears, sounds that hold no weight nor meaning, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t annoying.
Osamu emerges from his pillow shelter, hair certainly mussed and sticking up in all the wrong directions. “Shut it ‘Tsumu,” he mumbles, mostly to himself. Unfortunately for him, Atsumu has a track record of not listening to people. “Let me sleep, ya pest.”
With weary eyes he squints at the clock on his desk opposite the bed, small red numbers reading the godawful time of 1:26 in the morning, and he glares tired daggers at his brother, who, unlike him, is far from asleep.
“‘Samu, please wake up, this is important,” he insists, voice an angry whisper. “Wake up already, ya hafta—”
“I don’t hafta do shit,” Osamu grumbles, tugging the sheets up to his shoulders and turning away from his brother. “Go back to bed.”
“No, ya don’t understand, I can’t, not when—”
“Honestly, I don’t care,” he replies, pulling the sheets over his head. Atsumu groans behind him and Osamu feels the warm blankets being ripped from his body, a shiver raking up his form as cold air meets his skin.
“The fuck, ‘Tsumu?” He grumbles, sitting up to half-heartedly shove his brother away from him. “Whaddaya want?”
Atsumu quickly ducks into his brother’s bunk, nearly toppling over him in his haste, peering at the window adjacent to their bed with wide eyes.
“There’s a person, ‘Samu,” he whispers, chest heaving. “Right outside the window.”
It’s then that Osamu really looks at his brother, taking in his very real, very panicked expression. He stills for a moment, studying Atsumu with raised eyebrows and slumped shoulders. His mind finally catches up with him for a moment, and he repeats what Atsumu just said to himself. A person. Outside their window.
He rubs his temples in a mixture of confusion and concern as Atsumu starts yammering about details Osamu can hardly catch up with. “Hold on, hold on, there’s a what?”
“Keep up, ‘Samu. A person, probably with evil intentions, right outside. I swear, I heard some noise and when I woke up I pulled back the blinds a bit, and there was someone right there. I’m not going crazy.”
Osamu sighs and rubs his eyes, the slight bags under his eyes doing nothing to hide his displeasure.
“You know there are… trees and things. Like wind? And nature in general, right?” he asks, sleep-riddled voice laced with annoyance.
“No shit, just listen, okay?”
Osamu finally gives in with a dramatic sigh, tiredly dragging a hand across his face while listening to the sound of nothing but the whirring of the tiny fan sitting in the corner of the room.
His shoulders slump further in defeat, and he resumes glaring at his brother, unimpressed. Just as he is opening his mouth to speak, three faint taps on the glass scare Atsumu to the point where he honest to god shrieks, before Osamu truly comes to his senses, wrestling him to the floor in an attempt to shut him up, urging him to be quiet.
Osamu feels a slight panic rise to his chest, because not only is there an actual person outside their window, but it’s the middle of the night and they are the only ones home. Oh, and also there is a person at their window?
“Okay, so maybe you were right,” Osamu says, slowly getting up to approach said window. He stands there listening, and he can barely make out the outline of a figure in the dark behind the blinds. He looks back at his brother. “What should we do?”
“Should we call someone?”
Osamu shrugs, crawling back onto his bed to search the tangled sheets. He sighs. “My phone is dead, where’s yours?”
Atsumu stiffens. “Mine’s on the couch.”
Osamu rolls his eyes in return and moves to fetch it from the other side of the house, but Atsumu tugs on his shirt before he can go very far.
“If you go that means you’re leaving me here alone to fend for myself, and if we go together then that means we are leaving them alone and they can break in much easier. That’s not happening.”
Osamu purses his lips, once again glancing at the window. “Whadda we do then?”
The person knocks again, harder this time, startling both of the boys. Atsumu’s expression hardens, eyes determined. “We stop ‘em, no matter what. Protect the house. It’s what Ma would want us to do.”
They look at each other and nod, a mutual understanding. Their Ma didn’t raise no weak Miyas. Hell, there is no such thing as a weak Miya.
They think for a moment, analyzing their options and the potential outcomes of each one before Osamu gets up from the floor slowly, gesturing for Atsumu to follow. They wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Get something from the closet,” Osamu whispers. “Worst comes to worst I’ll beat the shit outta ‘em.”
“Worst comes to worst we fucking die. And I am not letting ya beat the shit out of someone without me,” Atsumu hisses in return.
While he shuffles around, Osamu returns to the window and quietly peeks outside, keeping an eye on the figure that is pacing around impatiently.
He turns around and is met with his brother holding a book he forgot even existed, one of those large dictionaries that just sits and collects dust because why would anyone voluntarily use a dictionary?
Atsumu lifts it, feeling the weight of the massive thing in his hands, and lets out a satisfied hum.
He takes a deep breath, looking at Osamu with a faltering expression of bravery, a tinge of sadness creeping through the cracks of his facade.
“Well… I guess this is it.” He solemnly stares at the book in all of its dusty glory. “Hopefully one blow to the head with this thing and they are out cold but… if I don’t make it outta this one, tell Aran-kun he is my favorite person on the team.”
“Fuck off, just go already,” Osamu groans, rolling his eyes.
“Wow, I’m risking my life for you and this is the great sibling sendoff I get? Rude.”
“You’ll be fine, I’m right here. Just…” he gestures toward the window. “Chuck it at ‘em. They are right there, ya can’t miss.”
Atsumu takes a deep breath. “It’s now or never,” he murmurs, oddly calm for someone who was definitely not calm a few minutes ago.
With quick movements he dashes to the blinds, making a mess of them before pushing them aside to open the window. “EAT SHIT, YOU STUPID FUCK,” he screams, loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood, before he chucks the book at the offender who barely has enough time to put their hands up to prevent any sort of collision.
The twins look at each other in surprise as the book makes a solid connection with their face, sure to bruise. The dark silhouette of the person stumbles back and falls on the floor, clearly in pain, cursing to themself as they cradle the side of their face that was assaulted with the dictionary.
Still stunned stupid, the boys can only stare. They look at each other and start celebrating, laughing at the misfortune of the person lying in the grass. Too focused on each other, the twins hardly notice them rise to their feet, approaching them with balled fists. They might not be able to see who it is, but they are angry.
Atsumu scrambles to close and lock the window with a yelp, staggering back into his equally frantic brother as the figure outside pounds on the window, seething.
“Miya Osamu, you open this fucking window right now so I can throttle your brother or I promise I will kill you first,” the person threatens, voice clipped.
They both look at each other at that, eyes wide as saucers and mouths hanging open.
“Okay,” Osamu whispers, trying and failing to remain calm. “So he knows who we are. And wants us dead. This is not good.”
“Of course it’s not fucking good!” Atsumu hisses. “I probably just threw a book at a serial killer. Why would ya let me do that?!”
“I didn’t tell ya to do anything, scrub. We just gotta find a way to get him to leave somehow.”
“That doesn’t matter, he knows who we are and he probably knows more than just where we live, and if he doesn’t get what he wants tonight, he can just come back another time and then we are fucked either way.”
Another three loud bashes on the window.
“Stop whatever bullshit you are up to and I’ll let you walk away without too much permanent damage, just let me in for fucks sake,” the person outside says, annoyed.
After a moment Atsumu speaks up. “And why the hell would I letcha in?”
“Originally I came here for Osamu, but now my plans have changed because you threw a book at my face. I would really love to throw it back, preferably hard enough to bruise.”
As the weight of those words sink in, Osamu’s jaw drops and Atsumu stares at him in confusion. “Okay. Let’s think about this,” he whispers. “This guy seems to have had a motive before the whole book thing… maybe he has some sorta vendetta against you then. Could it be someone from school? Another volleyball team?”
The gray-haired boy shrugs, more confused now than he was before.
“People hate you, not me.”
Atsumu scoffs. “Rude.”
“Listen, ya've got the wrong twin,” Osamu hollers. “Atsumu is the little bitch that ya—”
“SHUT IT!” Atsumu yells, throwing himself into Osamu in an effort to shut him up.
The two go at it in a very Miya-like fashion, unaware of the world around them in the blur of balled-up fists they have created, strained yells and shouting filling the air.
With all the commotion on the floor they fail to hear the clicks of the window unlocking, their wrestling only coming to a full stop as the presence of another person looms over them, dictionary in hand.
They stop wrestling only to let out two screams in unison, scrambling for something, anything in the dark room to put more distance between them and the figure hovering over them.
They can barely see in their frenzy, even as their eyes have adjusted to the dark in the last few minutes, but Osamu manages to grab onto a stray shoe and chucks it at the intruder’s face, full force. As he doubles over in pain, Atsumu makes quick work of tackling him to the floor, not holding back as they writhe and struggle in place.
Osamu stumbles to turn on the lamp on the other side of the room, and as soon as he does his heart immediately sinks into the floor, dread filling up his body.
“… Rin?”
Atsumu’s head snaps up at that, taking a real look at the person below him, who is in fact the aforementioned Rin. The loud gasp he lets out in that moment would have been comical, if he didn’t feel the sudden need to fear for his life.
“WHAT THE HELL?” Atsumu screeches, frantically backing away from Suna as if he had been burned.
Suna, who looks like he has been through hell and back, glares at them with tired eyes. His hair is in desperate need of help, there are strands of grass clinging to his jacket for dear life, and sure enough, a large purple bruise is coloring up a wonderful spot on his right cheek.
He sits up and grabs the dictionary from the floor next to him, wordlessly walking over to Atsumu with the offending thing raised over his head, intentions made clear.
“NO, SUNARIN PLEASE, I’M SORRY—”
He starts repeatedly bashing Atsumu with the massive book, resulting in the two of them struggling on the floor all over again. Atsumu can’t do much other than shield his face as Suna repeatedly beats him with the “taste of his own medicine,” a scowl on his face the whole time.
Atsumu’s pleas and wails of defeat fall on deaf ears as Suna whacks him until satisfied. The blond now looks just as miserable as Suna himself, eyes unfocused and trained on the ceiling above them as he motionlessly lays on the floor, defeated.
Osamu makes the poor mistake of thinking the scene before him is funny, chest heaving as laughter tumbles from his lips. He is only abruptly stopped when a pair of angry green eyes meet his own, sharp enough to make him shrink back into himself a little.
“You,” Suna grits, leveling his gaze.
“Oh shit.”
Suna storms over to his boyfriend, gripping him by the collar of his sleep shirt, shaking him furiously.
“I swear Osamu, if you don’t give me a good explanation as to why you didn’t intervene as Atsumu attempted to give me a concussion, I will personally end you.”
Osamu gulps audibly, not wanting to die at the hands of his boyfriend. “Rin, baby, I didn’t know it was you, I swear! How was I supposed to, ‘Tsumu just shook me awake saying there was a stranger pacing ’round the window, so naturally, I freaked out!”
“‘Samu, you told me I could come over! It was only like an hour ago, how—”
He stops himself in his tracks, eyes suddenly filled with understanding. “You were half asleep when you said okay, weren’t you.”
It’s not a question. He knows it, Osamu knows it. Hell, Atsumu knows it too, having been a victim of it one too many times.
If there is one thing you don’t do, it’s text Miya Osamu when he is tired. He’s a serial sleep texter, not entirely sure of what he reads and replies half the time, but he still manages to do it despite the effects of his sleep-addled brain.
Osamu stares up at Suna with a blank expression, processing Suna’s words.
“I, uh…” Osamu fumbles through his words, his brain not supplying much. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry?”
Suna digs his palms into his eyes and groans. “Fucking… Miyas,” he murmurs under his breath.
The twins look at each other, their respective shirts wrinkled, brows scrunched, and faces sporting the exact same stupid expression — a mixture of confusion and guilt, with a tinge of fear. They did just attack Suna, after all.
“So…” Atsumu says, breaking the silence, “do either of ya wanna fill me in on why Sunarin was trying to sneak into our home in the dead of night?”
Suna pulls his phone out at that, scrolling until he finds what he is looking for. “Osamu told me I could come over because your parents wouldn't be home,” he says, deadpan as ever.
Atsumu looks back and forth between them. “Oh come on,” he whines, disgusted. “Ya—? Just? Really, ‘Samu?”
Suna waves his hand dismissively. “I just wanted to go somewhere because I was bored, maybe to a convenience store or something. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Atsumu crosses his arms and turns to Osamu with serious eyes, who is still sporting a blank expression. “Not only am I disappointed that you were gonna sneak out without permission, now I feel like a failure of an older brother because you forgot you were gonna sneak out. Thanks a lot.”
Osamu rolls his eyes. “Older brother my ass. You came crying to me after hearing a few taps on the window.”
“I’m revoking your status as my twin. I’m an only child now.”
“I hate you.”
“I hate both of you,” Suna groans. “Can I go get some fucking chuppets now? I just got beat up by my boyfriend and his brother, I need something I can eat and ice my face with at the same time please.”
Atsumu and Osamu stop their bickering momentarily, eyeing the ugly purple of Suna’s cheek, which yes, could definitely use some of that ice.
Osamu speaks first. “Am I still allowed to come with?” Suna nods.
After a moment Atsumu speaks too. “Am I allowed to come too?”
Suna wants to cry. It’s like they are children. He is dealing with actual children.
“Yes, you can come too.”
Both boys light up, quickly shoving each other around as they scramble and shuffle through drawers to tug on real clothes. Suna shakes his head, leaving them to go find an ice pack in the kitchen.
He chuckles to himself as he hears the two of them begin fighting over a pair of socks, wondering how he got stuck with two of the stupidest boys in all of Hyogo.