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The first time Atsumu thinks he really hates having a twin brother, he’s in high school.
They’re sitting in his classroom at lunch when a girl walks up to him. She studies his face for all of two seconds before turning to his brother, smiling brightly.
“Atsumu-kun! Please accept this,” she says, handing Osamu a letter with neat writing on the front. The strong scent of perfume makes the both of them wince.
“Nah,” Osamu says.
She falters, her grin dimming. “Why not?”
“Cause he’s not Atsumu, that’s why,” he pipes up.
She whips her head to him, eyes large. Her cheeks grow red. It pisses him off.
“I’m so sorry!”
Neither of them answers her, so she picks up her letter and walks away, clutching it tightly.
It’s not like he likes her or anything, or that he truly cares that she thought Osamu was him. People mix up the twins all the time. They have the same face, same hair, same eyes. So it could happen. It does happen. But she looked at Atsumu first. She was so sure that she had the right twin. She probably wrote about the right twin in her letter; he doesn’t doubt that. But when it came down to telling them apart in person, she didn’t even try to hide the fact that she didn’t know.
And he knows it won’t be the last time someone mistakes him for his brother. But right now, Atsumu is sick of being a twin. He’s sick of his brother. For a moment, he wants Osamu to disappear so no one would have to clarify which Miya they were talking to ever again.
“That was annoying,” Osamu groans. “She couldn’t ask for ya first?”
“Right,” Atsumu mutters.
Two weeks later, he suggests that they dye their hair.
“Isn’t that against school policy?”
“It’ll be fine,” he reassures his brother. At the dubious look Osamu gives him, Atsumu sighs. “Look, if we get called in for it, we’ll convince ‘em to let us off! We’re doing them a favor.”
“That’s true,” Osamu hums. “Having different hair makes it easier to tell us apart!”
“Exactly, ‘Samu! Now yer getting it.”
Sure enough, they’re called in for having such wild hair colors, but the principal lets them off once he realizes that the twins have a point. And it works, for the most part. Atsumu breathes easier each time he hears his name being called and Osamu is nowhere in sight, each time they’re approached together and he’s not mistaken for his sibling. Of course, they still get mixed up. But it’s better.
It’s okay now. He’s happy to be one of the Miya twins.
Atsumu is annoyed. Osamu refuses to play anything with him. He doesn’t want to go out back and toss a ball around, or hide and seek, or draw, or play with the new game their mom bought them. It’s been three days of this and he’s a little sick of pretending like he’s not fed up. What’s he being so boring for?
“C’mon, ‘Samu, I’m bored!”
“Don’t care. I don’t feel like playin’ right now.”
“Ya never do,” he scowls.
“So? Leave me alone!’
His brother sucks. He’s a jerk. Atsumu wishes he could beat some sense into him. At least then he wouldn’t be bored.
So he shoves Osamu off the couch and makes a mad dash for the backyard. Sure enough, there’s footsteps chasing after him, followed by a loud, “C’mere scrub!”
By the time their mother breaks them apart, Atsumu has a large scrape on his knee and his arm hurts from where his brother had bit into him, but he’s happy.
It’s not until the end of their second year, though, that Atsumu actually hates his brother. He’s sure that Osamu had genuinely wished he wasn’t a twin several time in his life; in fact, he’s outright said it in times of frustration, so it wouldn’t surprise Atsumu if he had harbored those thoughts on a deeper level.
“Hey, ‘Tsumu. ‘M not playing after high school.”
“The fuck are ya talking about?”
“I said I ain’t playing volleyball anymore.”
What? How can someone spend so much of their life dedicated to playing a sport or doing anything, really, and not want to continue? What else is there to do?
Atsumu laughs. It comes out mean. “So what are you gonna do then, huh?”
Osamu looks down at his feet, quiet.
“Well? ‘M sure ya got a plan somewhere in that big head of yours,” he pushes.
“Food. I wanna go into food service.”
He has to be joking. Right?
“Food? Yer quitting for food. Don’t be ridiculous ‘Samu.”
“It’s not ridiculous. ‘Tsumu, I really thought about this. Volleyball just isn’t for me. Not like it is for you.”
Atsumu doesn’t want to listen anymore. Osamu is spouting bullshit. He calls him a coward, a loser, tells him he’s just feeling bad since he wasn’t invited to the Youth Camp, that he wouldn’t make it doing food and his dream is stupid. They end up fighting, of course, but it’s different. When Osamu’s fist meets his jaw it feels real. His brother wants to hurt him. And when Atsumu drives his elbow into the other boy’s ribs, he returns the feeling. He wants Osamu to be hurt. Physically, yes. But he wants to win this fight. If he can win, he can show his brother how stupid he’s being.
Neither of them really wins. But Atsumu goes to bed thinking that if he could go into Osamu’s mind and mess with whatever part allows people to have free will, he would. If he could go back in time and slap the spoon out of his brother’s hand the first time he helped their mother cook, then he would. If he could warp Osamu’s dream, if he could force his own dreams on his brother, then he would. Atsumu was right.
How could they keep being the Miya twins if Osamu couldn’t see that?
It takes Atsumu a long time to get used to the idea that he and his brother could be apart, that they could live separate lives and the world wasn’t going to end.
At first, he thinks he can do it on his own; if ‘Samu doesn’t want to continue playing volleyball with him, who cares? He doesn’t need him. Atsumu goes to practice, goes home, sleeps, and does it all over again. It’s a routine he becomes familiar with and he likes it! He does. But it’s draining. He gets along well with his teammates on the Black Jackals, he still keeps in touch with everyone from Inarizaki, and he calls his Ma every other day.
But none of them know him like his brother does. Sometimes, Atsumu just wants to sigh and not have to explain what it means. He wants someone who understands what his silences means, who knows what to say when he won’t stop whining about something. No one is better at cheering him up than his brother. And he knows that the same goes for Osamu.
Who is supporting Osamu at college? Did he make any new friends? Is he having a hard time in his classes? Is his new job difficult for him?
They are the Miya twins. Even when they fight they make up. So why should this time be any different? Yeah, things are a little more serious this time around, but Atsumu knows that at the end of the day, Osamu’s happiness is worth more than playing volleyball together. And clearly, Atsumu himself isn’t at his happiest when they aren’t talking. There's no way he's winning that bet if he has to continue hearing mini updates about his brother's life from their mother.
He’s gonna fix this.
Alcohol is gross, but Atsumu takes another sip of the sake Aran had bought for their birthday.
“Now that you two are finally legal, it’s much easier to buy presents for ya,” he had said when he handed it over.
Having his first legal drink with Aran makes Atsumu a little more emotional than he would like to admit, and he can tell that Osamu feels the same way when they reach for another sip at the same time.
Aran has to leave eventually, but he makes sure the mood is good between them before he goes.
“We’re adults now, ‘Samu.”
“Crazy, isn’t it?”
Atsumu has training tomorrow afternoon. Osamu has a class in the morning and a night shift at the restaurant. They’ve been living adult lives since they graduated high school. But it’s different. Somehow, it’s different.
“Y’know, ‘m glad we got to meet up today,” Osamu says. He pours Atsumu some more alcohol and lets the rest of the bottle slowly drip into his own cup.
“Uh oh, don’t tell me yer an emotional drunk,” Atsumu jokes.
“Shut it,” he grunts. “We’ve been so busy lately. I hate to admit it, but I missed yer ugly mug.”
“We have the same face, jerk.” But he gets it. It’s a bit of a cliché, but sometimes people really do have to lose something in order to appreciate it more.
Atsumu stares off mindlessly. He feels warm. When he shakes out of it, Osamu looks like he’s ready to fall asleep in his seat.
“Alright, c’mon scrub. Let’s get going.”
The early fall air outside is cool, borderline too cold, but Atsumu still feels warm inside. Before he sends his brother off in a taxi, he grabs him by the shoulder.
“Hey, ‘Samu?”
“Hm?”
“Happy birthday.”
Osamu grins, lightly punching Atsumu in the arm.
“Happy birthday to you, too.”
It didn’t matter that they weren’t returning to the same place at the end of night. They were the Miya twins and even though they were walking down separate paths, it didn't change the fact that they’d always do so side by side.