Work Text:
Rintarou hears the metal bell ring as he enters the small mom-and-pop general store. To his left, he spots a boy close to his age sitting behind the counter. He’s curled forward, focused on the GameBoy in his hands, his dyed yellow fringe falling in his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt with a logo for the store, but he doesn’t even look up to greet his customer. Rintarou cuts to the right, exploring the aisles on the other side of the store.
He shuffles his feet and readjusts the messenger bag slung over his chest. The store smells slightly stale, and slightly musty. Must just be old, Rintarou decides. The overhead lights blink slightly, not perfectly working. The refrigerators in the back holding cold products hum just a touch too loud. Rintarou hears a door somewhere in the store open and close, but he doesn’t pay much attention to it. He comes across a display housing manga and spots an issue of Weekly Shonen Jump, but it’s a month or so old. Either way, he picks it up, blows off some dust covering the front, and starts to slide it into his messenger bag.
“That’s pretty shitty,” comes a voice behind him.
Rintarou pauses, sighs, and turns around to see who’s behind him.
It’s the boy from behind the counter, wearing that uniform shirt, except now he’s wearing a baseball cap. The kid takes the baseball cap off and slides it into the back pocket of his jeans. Rintarou blinks, confused as to how the kid who just had piss-yellow hair is now sporting ruffled gray locks.
“Are you supposed to be security?” Rintarou teases. The boy doesn’t smile, but his eyes look amused. They’re a cool brown.
“No,” the boy says lightly. “but you sound like you’re from Tokyo, so I know you can afford that. Follow me and I’ll ring ya up.”
The boy turns around and starts for the counter. Rintarou isn’t surprised the boy has a Kansai accent. They’re in Kansai after all, Hyogo Prefecture to be exact. He is surprised that the boy doesn’t kick him out or rip the manga out of his hands, instead having the easy confidence that Rintarou will follow him to the counter. Rintarou smiles, just a little, and does follow him to the counter.
When they get there, the original boy with yellow fringe is still there, and suddenly everything makes sense. They’re twins. Great. When he gets closer, Rintarou sees further differences than just hair color. Yellow is more expressive; his eyebrows dance when he spots Rintarou. Gray still looks calm and collected as he rings Rintarou up.
Rintarou places the manga on the counter so Gray can bag it.
“So, you’re from Tokyo,” Gray says, an assumption. Yellow lights up.
“No way!”
“I am,” Rintarou answers with a shrug. “Just moved here, though.”
“Why’d ya move here?” Yellow asks, placing the GameBoy down. Rintarou must be more interesting to him now.
Rintarou’s eyes drift upward, and he spots something on a shelf on the wall behind them. “I’ll take that, too.”
Gray follows his eyesight up until he spots it, too. A black Fuji polaroid camera.
He turns back toward Rintarou and smirks. “You’re gonna need some film for that.”
“Good thing I can afford it,” Rintarou returns. Gray’s smirk transforms into a genuine smile and Rintarou’s lips quirk into a half-smile to match. He can feel Yellow look back and forth from Gray to Rintarou, probably confused about their private conversation.
As Gray adds the camera and some film to the bag, Rintarou glances at Yellow.
“I got recruited to play volleyball here,” Rintarou tells him.
“You’re Suna Rintarou,” Gray states suddenly, causing Rintarou to look at him, startled.
“Yeah, I am. How do you know that?”
“You’re gonna be on our team.”
Rintarou thinks back to the wooden sign on the store that he barely glanced at. Their uniform shirts just confirm the name. Miya’s Goods.
“You’re Miya Osamu,” Rintarou deadpans to Gray, to Osamu . He looks between them. “You’re the Miya Twins.”
“Hell yeah we are,” Yellow, Atsumu , says proudly.
“You two are really good,” Rintarou compliments. He doesn’t say that they’re part of the reason why Rintarou would move across the country to play for this team.
“So are you! We watched yer tape durin’ practice!” Atsumu says happily. He turns to his brother. “Hey, ‘Samu, remember how ya said Suna Rintarou was-”
Osamu swats him on the back of the head, cutting him off.
“Hey!”
“Yer total’s 7,500 yen,” Osamu tells Rintarou, ignoring his brother. Rintarou doesn’t miss how Osamu flushes all the way to the tips of his ears.
Rintarou pays, putting the plastic bag of items into his messenger bag.
“I’d like to see the pictures ya take,” Osamu says to him as Rintarou turns to leave. It’s earnest, the way he says it. Rintarou decides he doesn’t mind Miya Osamu. In fact, he might even like him.
Rintarou still shrugs. “Maybe, one day,” he offers noncommittally.
Rintarou leaves Miya’s Goods with a new camera and a strange feeling in his chest. He’s fifteen, he’s just met the Miya Twins, and he wonders if his life will ever be the same.
❀❀❀
Rintarou is sixteen when he visits the Miya’s home for the first time. They’re going to nationals soon and the twin’s parents wanted to host a celebration. They live in the outskirts of town, the area a little more rundown than the center city. Their house is humble looking, just a one-story home, but it has a backyard.
The Miya parents are nice. Their father, Haruto, has Osamu’s dry wit and Atsumu’s warm eyes. Their mother, Reina, has Atsumu’s boisterous laugh and Osamu’s bullshit detector. Rintarou likes that he sees both of the twins in them. It makes it easier to be in their home. He was sort of worried Osamu had told them he had tried to steal from their store, but they welcomed him with open arms, so he knew Osamu hadn’t. It’s like Osamu had known Rintarou only tried to steal because he was bored, but now that the Miya Twins were in his life he would never be bored again.
Haruto and Reina make them a huge spread of food to enjoy, which they do. Rintarou learns that Reina likes to bake cookies and muffins to sell at their store, which the twins help with. He also sees tons of family photos scattered along the walls. They’re at a park when the twins were toddlers in one; another shows them after a middle school volleyball game. Rintarou really likes looking at the pictures of the twins doing their own things. A preteen Atsumu playing a guitar; an Osamu from a few months ago making onigiri in their kitchen. A record player in the living room plays old American songs, and Rintarou feels completely at home.
And toward the end of the night, Haruto gives each of the boys one beer to enjoy, with Reina saying she’ll know if they try to sneak more. Rintarou holds the cold beer in his hands, condescension making his palm slick, and looks around. He doesn’t realize he’s looking for Osamu until he doesn’t spot him. He moves over to the sliding door leading to the backyard, and he sees Osamu sitting on a swing, drinking his beer alone.
Rintarou slips out through the door, shutting out the sounds of clinking beers and loud conversations behind him. It’s past sunset down, with dusk settling in. The air outside is warm, almost muggy. He sees lightning bugs blinking and can hear crickets chirping. The swingset has two swings, so since Osamu claimed the right one he settles down in the one on the left.
“Hey, Suna,” Osamu greets him softly.
“I like your parents,” Rintarou deadpans in lieu of a greeting.
Osamu glances at him and chuckles. “So do I.”
“Your house is very...homey.”
Osamu looks away.
“That’s a nice way of saying poor,” he teases.
Rintarou looks at him. Osamu is lightly pushing himself back and forth with his feet, the beer half empty in his hands. He’s wearing jeans and a black Inarizaki High crewneck, his gray hair ruffling in the slight breeze. He looks content, totally at peace with Rintarou’s presence. The two of them haven’t really hung out alone, but Rintarou finds that he wouldn’t mind doing that.
“I didn’t mean it like that. My parents have been divorced for years, so it’s just my mom, my sister, and me. Our apartment in the city doesn’t always feel so comfortable.”
Osamu stops pushing himself. “Sorry about yer parents.”
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. My dad still pays for pretty much everything, so it could be worse. He moved us out here when I got recruited, so…”
Rintarou doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, so he just gives up. It’s weird being vulnerable. It’s weirder that it’s not exactly uncomfortable being vulnerable with Osamu.
“I’m happy he did,” Osamu says lightly, but it stirs something in Rintarou’s chest.
“Me too,” Rintarou agrees, bringing his beer to his lips and taking a sip. It’s bitter, but he still likes it.
“You know, we have an old treehouse. Over there.” Osamu points toward the back of the yard, and Rintarou spots it. It’s half falling apart, but it’s certainly a treehouse. “I’ve been wantin’ to fix it up. Maybe it’s stupid but I figured it’d be a cool place to hang out. If ya want, I’d love some help with it. ‘Tsumu’s always so busy practicing.”
“Okay,” Rintarou says without hesitation. He’s never had this. A bond, a friendship that feels so natural. Talking with Osamu has always felt easy, like he’s never needed to think about it. He’d really like to build something with Osamu, and have something for just the two of them.
Osamu smiles, a little wonderstruck, like he hadn’t been expecting Rintarou to say yes. Rintarou feels his heart flutter at the gentle look on Osamu’s face, and he wishes he had his camera so he could take his picture.
❀❀❀
Since that night, Rintarou and Osamu have become something of a matching set. Another year passes and Rintarou can’t imagine a life in which he doesn’t see Osamu every day.
Today, they’re seventeen, and laying in their treehouse. It’s renovated, with a large comfy rug taking up much of the floor. They have fairy lights strung up, but they’re off since it’s late afternoon. Extra boxes of polaroid film are stored in a corner, and a small table holds a ton of snacks. Alternative music is playing on a small speaker connected to Osamu’s phone. Osamu rests his head on Rintarou’s lap as Rintarou runs his fingers through Osamu’s fringe. The sun shifts, pouring a stream of light onto Osamu’s face, so he squints. Rintarou snaps a picture and smiles.
“C’mon, Rin,” Osamu whines, batting his hand at the camera. Rintarou raises the camera out of Osamu’s reach, laughing softly. Osamu adds, “Ya don’t even let me see the pictures.”
Rintarou snags the freshly printed polaroid and stuffs it in his back pocket. Still, he says, “I told you I would show them to you, ‘Samu.”
“ Maybe, one day ,” Osamu says, mimicking Rintarou’s Tokyo accent. Rintarou flicks Osamu’s forehead.
“Brat,” Rintarou accuses, but he resumes carding his fingers through Osamu’s hair. Osamu’s hazel eyes flicker up at him, soft-focused. Rintarou furrows his brows.
“Are ya stayin’ for dinner?” Osamu asks. Rintarou tilts his head, smoothing his thumb over Osamu’s right brow.
“Yeah, unless you suddenly decide you hate me within the next hour.”
Osamu closes his eyes at the sensation of Rintarou continuing to play with his hair.
“Impossible,” Osamu states, breezy and sure of himself. Rintarou feels a warmth in his chest, something nameless but good nonetheless.
So, Rintarou stays for dinner, because of course he does. Lately, he eats with the Miya’s more often than he does his own family. Rintarou likes eating with them. He likes hearing about Haruto and Reina’s day. He likes that they ask him about himself, because it feels genuine. He likes watching the Miya’s interact, wordlessly passing serving trays between themselves, bickering over something mundane. It’s easy, loving. Rintarou likes feeling a part of their family. He likes his own family, too, but his mother doesn’t cook them meals and his sister is only thirteen and caught up in her own world. They’re not chaotically in sync like the Miya’s are.
After the meal, the boys help Haruto and Reina clean up. It’s faster that way. Haruto and Reina like to take a long walk after dinner, so the boys settle in on the floor, their backs resting against the couch. They have a Wii, so Atsumu puts on Mario Kart. Rintarou sits between them, his legs loosely tangled with Osamu’s. Atsumu’s shoulder presses into Rintarou’s.
Rintarou was never so touchy before meeting the twins, but it’s hard to be any other way around them. Atsumu is quick to throw an arm around Rintarou’s shoulders. Osamu doesn’t hesitate to bump his knee against Rintarou’s under the table. Atsumu tugs on Rintarou’s hand when he wants to show him something; Osamu can practically fall asleep with his head in Rintarou’s lap. And they do this with all of their friends. The twins are practically bursting with casual affection.
They play for a while. It gets heated, like it always does. Osamu wins a round, and Atsumu accuses him of cheating.
“How am I cheatin’?” Osamu asks, an edge to his voice.
“You can’t throw a blue shell like that!” Atsumu whines. “S’not fair that you can go from last to first place.”
“Could you be any more of a sore loser?” Rintarou questions lightly.
Atsumu narrows his eyes at Rintarou. “You’re always on ‘Samu’s side.”
Rintarou looks at him, his face growing hot. “What? No, I’m not. You’re both equally annoying.”
“Whatever,” Atsumu mutters, putting his Wii remote down and standing. “Piss break.”
Atsumu leaves the room and Rintarou suddenly feels very aware of his legs tangled with Osamu’s. Osamu reaches a hand out and grabs Rintarou’s wrist. He rubs his thumb over a beauty mark placed just under the joint. Rintarou let’s him, mesmerized by Osamu’s content expression and the drag of his calloused fingers on Rintarou’s skin.
“I’m quitting volleyball,” Osamu admits softly.
Rintarou feels his heart sink. “What?” he blurts out.
Osamu meets his eyes. He doesn’t look sad. “You and ‘Tsumu talk about goin’ to tryouts for professional teams. My heart’s just not in it. So, I’m done with volleyball after high school.”
“Okay,” Rintarou says slowly. Osamu’s hand tightens around Rintarou’s wrist, like he’s nervous for Rintarou’s response. “What do you want to do instead?”
“I want to cook. I want to be a chef,” Osamu says without hesitation, like he’s been waiting to get the words out. “I want to run my own restaurant.”
Rintarou smiles, and Osamu matches it instinctively. “I’ll be your first customer, then.”
Osamu laughs, nodding his head. His grip slackens, and he slides his palm over Rintarou’s until they’re loosely holding hands. “I’m not promising any discounts.”
Rintarou rolls his eyes, kicking his foot against Osamu’s. “How do you know you want to do that instead of volleyball?”
Osamu brushes his thumb over Rintarou’s. “It’s like how ya know ya wanna pursue volleyball instead of photography.”
Rintarou remembers how Osamu had asked him a few months back why he didn’t want to be a photographer. Rintarou had told him that photography was fun, but volleyball made him feel alive. He wonders if Osamu was still turning over whether he wanted to play volleyball in his mind. He wonders if his answer gave Osamu the courage to quit.
Rintarou nods, squeezing Osamu’s hand to show he understands. They understand each other, and it’s nice.
“‘Tsumu doesn’t know. No one knows, actually. Just you.”
Rintarou stills. Just you . Rintarou feels elated, and it’s an emotion that flutters in his chest.
Atsumu comes bounding back into the room then, and Osamu tugs his hand from Rintarou’s. Rintarou stares down at his empty hand, confused. The twins are so casually affectionate with their friends, but pulling his hand away is like Osamu's saying he wouldn’t do something like hold hands with a friend. Osamu picks up his controller, bantering with Atsumu like the moment between him and Rintarou hadn’t existed.
Rintarou can’t help but think about Osamu as they resume playing, and how there may just be some things he doesn’t understand about him. He also thinks that there may be some things he doesn’t understand about himself, because he had felt something suspiciously close to disappointment when Osamu let go of his hand.
❀❀❀
Rintarou doesn’t like Osamu the way he likes Atsumu. At some point between the hand holding and the night before their graduation day, that becomes apparent. Maybe he’s always liked Osamu differently, or maybe it’s a more recent change. Either way, once Rintarou notices it, he can’t un-notice it.
Rintarou likes Osamu differently because it’s Osamu he stays up all night on the phone with. It’s Osamu he lets braid his hair. It’s Osamu he laughs the hardest with. It’s Osamu who he searches for first in a crowd. And it's Osamu he looks at first after somebody makes a joke to see if he's laughing too.
Existing with Osamu is a natural push and pull, in a way that’s different to how Rintarou interacts with Atsumu. Rintarou doesn’t fully understand the extent of his feelings, but he’s not dumb. He knows what it means that his heart races when Osamu leans close to whisper something in his ear. He knows what it means to flush when Osamu’s shirt rides up when he spikes a volleyball.
Rintarou has never paid much attention to his sexuality. He’s known he’s been attracted to people regardless of gender since he was a kid, but it’s something entirely different to be attracted to Osamu. It feels…bigger than himself. He doesn’t know what to do with it. These feelings . He supposes he’s never really had an actual crush before. Maybe he needs to get to know someone before those feelings develop. Either way, Rintarou is consumed with Osamu, Osamu, Osamu.
There are two problems. One, Rintarou is eighteen and he’s just signed with EJP Raijin, a professional volleyball team based six hours away from Hyogo. Two, Osamu has never once indicated he’s into boys. He’s not like Atsumu, who’s loud and proud about his bisexuality. He just doesn’t know where Osamu stands, and it sucks to not understand some part of him.
Rintarou has been doing a pretty good job at ignoring the thumping of his heart when he’s around Osamu, but everything comes to a head the night before graduation. The Miya’s are hosting a house party. Haruto and Reina bought them a reasonable amount of alcohol and took away car keys, letting them drink as long as they slept over. Rintarou has his polaroid camera and he’s been capturing memories all night.
Osamu has never been much of a drinker, but tonight he’s throwing them back. He’s doing it discreetly, to trick his parents, but Rintarou notices. Of course he does. At one point, Osamu wanders off and toward his room. Rintarou takes his beer with him as he goes to check on Osamu.
In Osamu and Atsumu’s shared bedroom, they still have bunk beds. Osamu is sitting on his, the bottom one. They have LED lights strung up on the wall, and now they burn a dark blue. There’s soft music playing on Osamu’s laptop that’s resting on his desk. Osamu himself is throwing back his beer. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans. In this light, in every light, Rintarou thinks he’s gorgeous.
“Rin,” Osamu says in awe when he notices him in the doorway.
“Drinking by yourself? That’s no fun,” Rintarou says, leaning against the doorframe.
“Needed a moment alone, away from everyone,” Osamu says, eyes hazy as he looks at Rintarou.
“Maybe I should go, then,” Rintarou teases.
Osamu chuckles, like Rintarou said something absurd. “Ya know I never mean you, Rin.”
And there it is again, that warmth in Rintarou’s chest as he gazes at Osamu. Rintarou shuts the door behind him and crosses the floor, sitting beside Osamu. Their shoulders and thighs touch. Osamu’s wearing cologne tonight, and it makes it hard for Rintarou to think straight. From this close, Rintarou can see how glazed over his eyes look, how he smells like beer, too. He’s drunk, Rintarou realizes.
“You okay?” Rintarou asks.
Instead of answering, Osamu taps his camera. “Take a picture?”
Rintarou indulges him, because of course he does. He holds the camera up to take a photo of them. At the moment he pushes down the button to take the photo, Osamu grabs his face and kisses him. The flash goes off as Rintarou registers that Osamu’s lips are on his. He pulls away, shocked.
“‘Samu,” he blurts in surprise.
“I didn’t know I was gonna do that,” Osamu mumbles, but his eyes are still tracking Rintarou’s lips. “You’re just…so pretty, Rin. You make me so nervous, you know.”
Rintarou holds his breath as Osamu traces a finger lightly over his right eye. “Yer eyeliner,” he says. He smooths his finger down the slope of Rintarou’s nose and over his cupid's bow. “Yer nose...yer lips…so pretty...”
“‘Samu,” Rintarou says again. He puts the camera down behind him.
“That was my first kiss,” Osamu says suddenly. Rintarou’s stomach twists.
“Mine too,” Rintarou says back. Even though it was so quick Rintarou barely felt anything.
“Can I kiss ya again?” Osamu asks gently. “Just to see?”
Rintarou’s head feels sluggish and his heart is pounding loud in his ears. Just to see what? he wants to ask.
“‘Samu, you’re drunk. I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”
I don’t want you to forget this in the morning.
“I would never regret ya, Rin. Never.”
And maybe Rintarou’s a little drunk, too, because he says, “Okay. You can kiss me.”
Osamu smiles, and leans forward. The kiss is off center, and just a quick pressing of lips. Rintarou holds Osamu’s jaw and tilts his head before leaning back down. He doesn’t know how to kiss, how to breathe while he kisses, but he slides his lips against Osamu’s and it feels good. Osamu’s letting out short breaths through his nose and he’s pecking Rintarou’s lips experimentally. Osamu’s hands are warm on Rintarou’s waist. Something about the sounds of their lips pressing together and the low alternative music playing makes Rintarou feel like he’s on fire.
Osamu pulls away and murmurs, “Can I…?”
He doesn’t clarify what he means. However, when he kisses Rintarou again, he presses his tongue against the seam of Rintarou’s lips. Rintarou shivers, but he parts his lips. It’s slow, and not perfect, but they take the time to explore each other’s mouths, both softly gasping and panting. Rintarou slips his fingers into Osamu’s hair, gripping it as he adjusts himself and straddles Osamu’s lap. They don’t stop kissing as Osamu wraps his arms around Rintarou’s waist and holds him close.
Rintarou can barely breathe and his head is swimming, but he feels hot all over, everywhere he’s touching Osamu. Now that they’ve found some sort of rhythm, it feels fantastic. Rintarou doesn’t know how long they kiss for, but there’s eventually loud knocking on the door. They freeze, breathing heavily.
“Ma brought out cake! Get yer asses out here!” Atsumu shouts, oblivious to what they’re doing.
“Coming,” Osamu says back, but his voice cracks. Atsumu must’ve walked away, because they don’t get a reply.
Rintarou laughs. “Cute voice crack.”
“Shuddup,” Osamu grumbles. Rintarou looks down at him and his heart stutters. Osamu’s pupils are blown wide, his hair’s messy, and his lips are swollen and shiny. He looks blissed out. He looks beautiful. Rintarou wants to take a picture.
He doesn’t, though. Instead, the two slowly disentangle themselves and stand. Rintarou doesn’t know what to say to Osamu, doesn’t know how to ask him what that all meant. So, he doesn’t. They fix themselves up and rejoin the party. Osamu passes out on the living room couch barely twenty minutes later, and Rintarou doesn’t see him again the rest of the night.
❀❀❀
The next morning, Rintarou snaps a photo using his polaroid camera, the flash going off. He lowers it to see the grinning faces of Ginjima and Kosaku. Rintarou’s taking photos for posterity, for them to look back on their graduation day when they no doubt have a reunion in a few years. For now, though, their new lives will take them in different directions.
“Wait, get one with me too,” Atsumu says, weaseling his way in between the two boys, who kindly make room.
Rintarou rolls his eyes, but he still raises the camera to capture Atsumu’s blinding grin and his arms slung around the other boys’ shoulders. He slides the polaroid into his back pocket as Ginjima and Kosaku leave to find their places in line.
“Where’s ‘Samu?” Rintarou asks, fingers fiddling with the lens of his camera.
“Dunno, probably already in line. Scrub’s been complaining about feelin’ hungover all morning.”
Rintarou sighs. He’s never seen Osamu drink so much in his life. Rintarou glances around for him. The two haven’t spoken since the kiss, but Rintarou doesn’t even know what to say when he finally sees Osamu.
Rintarou just knows two things. One, that he’s in love with Miya Osamu. And two, that in a few weeks he’s going to be living six hours away from Miya Osamu.
Rintarou doesn’t know if these two facts can exist simultaneously.
Either way, Rintarou walks around, slipping past excited graduates talking and taking pictures, until he finally spots Osamu sitting under a cherry blossom tree. The branches ruffle with the wind, and pink petals fall and land in his hair. His eyes are downcast and he’s pulling up blades of grass just to watch them float away in the breeze. He’s wearing his black, military-style graduation uniform, the top two golden buttons undone. Osamu’s never really learned how to wear his uniform properly, Rintarou thinks fondly.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Rintarou asks mildly as he sits beside Osamu. Osamu startles, glancing at him.
Rintarou’s heart flutters when he notices the way Osamu visibly relaxes when he recognizes him.
Osamu smirks. “Be careful what ya wish for, it’s a mess up there right now.”
Rintarou stretches his long legs out, resting his back against the trunk of the tree. Osamu does the same, linking their ankles. Rintarou’s face warms, but he tries to ignore it as he looks at Osamu. Osamu looks soft-focused and gentle in this light, and Rintarou holds up his camera. Rintarou doesn’t have to ask; Osamu smiles instinctively, a little crooked. His warm eyes contrast beautifully with the pink petals in his hair. Rintarou takes the photo, not meeting Osamu’s eyes as he pulls out the polaroid. Rintarou smiles down at it. It might be his favorite one to date. Rintarou flickers his eyes back to Osamu, who’s still smiling softly.
“Here, let me...” Rintarou whispers, reaching his hand up to pull the petals out of Osamu’s hair, shivering at the way Osamu looks at him in awe.
Rintarou opens his palm and watches the petals float away.
“I’m sorry,” Osamu says, rather bluntly. Rintarou’s stomach twists. So, they’re doing it. They’re having the conversation. And from Osamu’s tone, it doesn’t sound too hopeful.
“For what specifically?” Rintarou retorts, trying to sound calm. He doesn’t want to hear Osamu say For kissing you, because it didn’t mean anything to me .
However, maybe it’s better if that’s the case.
“Well,” Osamu starts, sighing. “For getting so drunk. For not confessin’ properly.”
“Confessing...properly?”
“That’s not how I wanted to confess to ya. I wanted to wait until today, so I could give ya my second button, which you probably think is fuckin’ lame, but still, I was gonna do it properly. Then, last night I got so nervous I started drinking, and then I just... Fuck . I’m sorry, Rin. I don’t want ya to think I kissed you because I only wanted to hook up with ya, because I really care about you.”
Rintarou goes still at Osamu’s words. His heart's beating dangerously fast in his chest. “You...wanted to confess to me?”
“Yes,” Osamu says firmly, like the decision to do so was the easiest in the world. “but I feel like I messed it up.”
“You didn’t,” Rintarou says quickly. Osamu’s eyes widen. Rintarou adds, “Mess it up, I mean. I feel like it’s pretty obvious that I feel the same way, but-”
“-But?”
“We’re going to be six hours away from each other, ‘Samu. It’s crazy.”
Osamu shrugs. “I don’t really see any other option. What, be with other people? Now, that’s crazy.”
Rintarou rolls his eyes and smiles, looking down at his hands, which are wrapped tightly around his camera.
Osamu continues, “I don’t know how to be with anyone but you, Rin, and I don’t want to be with anyone else.”
Rintarou's heart jumps in his throat. He swallows. “So, we just...magically make it work? Everyone says the Miya twins are crazy and they couldn’t be more right.”
Osamu snorts. “Yeah, it’s fuckin’ crazy but we'll make it work.”
Osamu’s hand finds Rintarou’s, loosening his grip on the camera so Osamu can lace their fingers. Both of their hands are warm and big and calloused, not a perfect fit but Rintarou doesn’t want to hold any other hand.
“I’ll visit ya all the time, and force ya to talk to me on the phone even though you hate anything other than texting.”
Rintarou laughs, causing Osamu to grin.
Osamu says, “I fuckin’ love you, Rin. And you already said ya feel the same way, so you can’t take it back.”
Rintarou thinks about his future, and he honestly can’t imagine Osamu not being a part of it.
Rintarou deadpans, “So, where’s my button?”
Osamu’s brows furrow for just a second, before he realizes. Osamu is practically glowing as he unfastens the second button from his jacket.
“Normally, you’re supposed to give these after the ceremony. I’m gonna look like an idiot.”
Osamu couldn’t sound less sad about it, though, as he hands Rintarou the golden button. Rintarou slides it into his pocket, before leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to Osamu’s lips.
“Good, maybe everyone will finally see you’re the big dork I know you are.”
Osamu’s free hand slips behind Rintarou’s neck to keep him close, kissing him again. It’s slower, and it makes Rintarou’s stomach twist.
Osamu whispers against his lips, “Let’s go graduate, Rin.”
❀❀❀
Rintarou is twenty-three when he knocks on the Miya’s front door. He takes a step back, waiting for someone to answer it until eventually somebody does.
Atsumu frowns, wearing nothing but a MSBY t-shirt and joggers. “He’s not home.”
Rintarou smiles sweetly. “I'm here to see you, ‘Tsumu.”
Atsumu’s frown transforms into a blinding grin. “Really?!’
“You’re an idiot,” Rintarou states flatly, pushing past Atsumu to enter the home.
“You’re such a dick, Sunarin,” Atsumu complains as he shuts the door and follows.
Rintarou smiles to himself, adjusting the duffle bag slung over his shoulder.
“When’d you get in?” Rintarou asks.
“Less than an hour ago,” Atsumu answers, flopping down on the couch. Rintarou hums in response.
The V-League’s on a break, and Rintarou took the earliest train to Hyogo he could.
“So, how’s Sakusa?” Rintarou asks, meeting Atsumu’s eyes and enjoying the way he visibly flusters.
“What? Why are ya askin’ about him ?” Atsumu questions.
“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s Omi-kun to you, isn’t it? At least that’s what Komori says.”
Atsumu groans. “I’m gonna kill Komori-kun. And don’t worry about me and Omi-kun. I’ll tell ya when there’s actually a story.”
Then, to clearly change the subject, Atsumu says, “‘Samu’s helpin’ our parents at the shop today. You two stayin’ here tonight or ‘Samu’s apartment?”
Rintarou rolls his eyes. “Don’t dignify the office above Onigiri Miya he sleeps in by calling it an apartment, you’ll only enable him. And since it’s my first night in town we’ll probably stay here so I can see your parents. I am their favorite son, after all.”
Atsumu shoots him the middle finger. “In your dreams, Sunarin.”
Rintarou smiles, starting toward the sliding glass door that leads to the backyard. “You’re right. Maybe I’ll have to compete with Omi- ku n for that title soon.”
“Fuck you!”
Rintarou laughs as he closes the sliding door behind him. It’s winter, but luckily they haven’t had their first snowfall yet. Still, the breeze has a chill in it, and when Rintarou breathes out he can see his breath swirl up in a white cloud. He tugs his black denim jacket tighter around himself as he crosses the yard, his boots making a satisfying crunch on the near-frozen grass, until he stops underneath the treehouse.
Rintarou pauses a moment, looking up at the treehouse with butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He thinks about when he and Osamu were kids and rebuilt the treehouse so it could become their personal hangout spot. He thinks about how he fell in love with Osamu over the small moments they shared there. Rintarou takes a deep breath, then climbs the ladder so he can get to work.
Osamu doesn’t come home until dark. When Rintarou greets him at the door, Osamu lights up. He's wearing a Miya's Goods shirt and an Onigiri Miya hat. He takes his hat off and slides it into the back pocket of his jeans, revealing his dark hair. Even though he's wearing a similar Miya's Goods shirt to the one he wore when they first met, Osamu has changed physically in so many ways. His chest is far more broad from his time lugging around huge bags of rice, narrowing into his small waist. He doesn't look like the fifteen-year-old boy he used to be, but deep down his heart is just as sweet.
“Holy shit, I thought you were comin’ tomorrow!”
“I wanted to surprise you,” Rintarou says, letting Osamu pull him into a tight hug. When he pulls away, Osamu cups Rintarou’s cheeks and kisses him.
“Consider me surprised then, sweetheart,” Osamu whispers against his lips.
Warmth spreads throughout Rintarou’s chest, and he leans forward to kiss Osamu again.
“Get a room!” Atsumu shouts at the same time Haruto and Reina enter behind Osamu.
“Rin-kun,” Reina exclaims happily. Osamu lets go of Rintarou so that his parents can give him their own bear hugs.
Haruto and Reina get started on dinner as the boys keep them company and sip on beers Atsumu had bought. After almost a decade of being a guest in the Miya home, Rintarou doesn’t think he’ll ever stop enjoying the love that this family radiates. Their kitchen is warm and illuminated by the soft, golden lights overhead. Oldies play on their record player. Reina and Atsumu try and fail to dance along to the song together, but it doesn’t matter because they’re laughing and having fun. Osamu alternates between helping his father cook and drifting back over to Rintarou to kiss him gently. Rintarou smiles into his beer, never wanting nights like this to end.
After dinner, Rintarou leans over and whispers in Osamu’s ear, “I have another surprise for you.”
Osamu grins, telling him to lead the way. Rintarou makes sure they put their coats on before going into the backyard. Rintarou pulls him along by their intertwined hands.
“The lights in the treehouse are on,” Osamu mumbles.
“Try not to stare at my ass too hard as I climb the ladder, okay?” Rintarou replies.
“No promises. It's a great ass,” Osamu shoots back. Rintarou laughs loudly into the night.
Rintarou enters the tree house first, quickly stepping aside so that he can see Osamu’s reaction when he enters. And what a fantastic reaction it is.
Osamu’s mouth falls open, and he looks around in awe. His surprised face transforms into that of pure delight. He looks at Rintarou like he hung the stars in the sky.
“Rin, are these…?”
“Yeah, they are. Come take a closer look.”
Rintarou’s hand finds Osamu’s as Osamu carefully inspects the hundreds of polaroids that are hung up on wires strung across the walls. These are all the polaroids Rintarou has taken since they were fifteen. They show so many memories from their teen years up until now. There’s one of Osamu sitting behind the wheel, learning how to drive. There’s another of the two of them grinning crookedly at the camera, which was taken the night they got high for the first time. One shows Osamu and Atsumu posing in front of a christmas tree. Another shows Osamu resting his head on Rintarou’s lap. Of course there's the one of Osamu with pink petals in his hair, taken on their graduation day. Osamu laughs and points to different ones, and they share small antidotes from when the photos were taken.
“This one might be my favorite, though,” Rintarou says, pulling a polaroid out of his back pocket and handing it to Osamu. It’s the photo Rintarou took when Osamu kissed him for the first time. The photo objectively isn’t perfect. The camera was too close to their faces, Rintarou’s eyes are open when Osamu’s aren’t, and it’s slightly blurry, but Rintarou had been lucky enough to capture their first kiss on camera, so it’s special nonetheless.
Osamu grins, looking back at Rintarou with glassy eyes. “I hope I’ve become a better kisser since then.”
Rintarou smiles. “You’re alright.”
Osamu bites his lip to suppress his smile. Then he says, “I can’t believe you hung up all the pictures, Rin.”
“Told you I’ll let you see my pictures one day,” Rintarou says softly, coming closer to Osamu so that he can slide his hands around Osamu’s waist, inside the flaps of his jacket. Osamu slips the picture into his back pocket so that he can loosely wrap his arms around Rintarou’s neck.
Rintarou loves this man, and has loved him since they were kids. Even now, he still feels his heart beat rapidly under Osamu’s gaze.
“One last thing,” Rintarou states. Osamu tilts his head in confusion. “You live in the small office above your shop. And while you know how proud I am of you for running your own business, I don’t think you should necessarily live above it in a room that’s not designed to be an apartment.”
Osamu chuckles, but lets Rintarou keep going. Rintarou takes another deep breath before saying, “I thought it might be time for us to find a place, together. An apartment in Hyogo that we can make our own. Instead of splitting our time between Nagano and Hyogo, we can spend my off-time here in Hyogo.”
Osamu starts to protest, “Rin, I don’t mind comin’ to Nagano-”
“-‘Samu,” Rintarou cuts in firmly. Osamu quiets. “My mother lives in Tokyo with her new husband and my sister is off at college. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you and your family in Hyogo.”
Osamu’s eyes soften, so Rintarou continues. “You know I love your parents. I give Atsumu shit but I love him, too. I love this house; I feel more at home here than anywhere else. So, I want to find an apartment here and move in with you because I’m so fucking in love with you it’s ridiculous.”
Osamu laughs, wet and sticky as tears start to fall. “Okay, let’s do it. I love you so much, Rin.”
Rintarou kisses Osamu, grinning into it, and it feels like coming home. Rintarou knows that his heart has belonged to Osamu ever since they were fifteen, and he’s euphoric to know that Osamu’s heart belongs to him. Because, frankly, no other heart will do.