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Miya Osamu had never been one to buy into pseudoscience. He’s not into any astrology or whatever the hell people do with crystals – Osamu’s not exactly the smartest guy around but having the scientific basis for most anything is important to him. He believes in the effectiveness of vaccines, climate change, the Earth is not flat, etc.
Atsumu is much of the same, except, Atsumu buys into anything that has to do with romance. Atsumu’s always wanted to be loved, because he has so many things he loves, not that the scrub went on any successful dates in high school. Figures he needed his significant other to be just as obsessed with volleyball.
Osamu’s been on the other end of phone calls with his twin; Atsumu going on and on about how compatible Libra and Pisces are and about his boyfriend’s horoscope say he’s gonna be lucky today.
Osamu’s never really bought into it.
Except, Osamu never really had a choice as Atsumu’s twin.
So, there’s a book on Osamu’s kitchen counter: The Five Love Languages: How to Express Heartfelt Commitment to Your Mate by Gary Chapman. Osamu’s lips curl in disgust. Atsumu had no right, even as his twin brother, to interfere with his relationship with Shinsuke.
It’d come to a surprise to most everyone when Osamu and Shinsuke had gotten together. The fact that Shinsuke was involved in a relationship with anyone was surprising. (Suna had eventually confessed at the third years’ graduation that he thought Shinsuke had been a robot in disguise.) And then the team had been surprised Shinsuke had become involved with Osamu. Osamu was Atsumu’s twin, meaning they shared the same hot-headed tendency that seemed to be triggered by just the right poke at just the right space. Osamu had gotten the sense that instead of the team looking at them like a proper couple, it was just Shinsuke wrangling Osamu into place, just like he had done as their captain in high school.
But before anyone had realized it, Osamu and Shinsuke had been together for years with their relationship going strong – despite long distance and the personal endeavors they’ve had as separate business owners. Not that anyone really believes in the validity of their relationship. Atsumu whines all the time about how Osamu and Shinsuke don’t act like a conventional couple – no handholding, kissing, hugging, cuddling: nothing.
Which leads to the book on Osamu’s kitchen counter that doesn’t shrivel up into ashes no matter how hard Osamu glares at it. Atsumu’s insistent cry of, “Ya need ta fix yer relationship with Kita-san!” rings clearly in Osamu’s head.
Osamu sighs now, picking up the book briefly before slamming it back on the counter. Even without the damn book, Osamu knows about the so-called “love languages”: words of affirmation, quality time, gift giving, acts of service, and physical touch.
Osamu and Shinsuke had never been the most affectionate people. Atsumu has always desired it, like he sapped all the need for affectionate out of Osamu in the womb. Shinsuke is much of the same, for reason Osamu doesn’t care to know or care to find out. Their love is strong and that’s really all that matters.
“Is there somethin’ wrong?”
Osamu sighs and holds up the book, pinched between his pointer finger and thumb in disgust, “‘Tsumu’s package came.”
Shinsuke smiles as he comes closer, reaching to pull the book from Osamu’s grip. He’s amused, “Wasn’t he the one callin’ ya just two days ago about Sakusa-kun?”
Osamu groans at the reminder of that particular conversation, “Tell me about it.”
Shinsuke hums in response, flipping through that damn book.
Osamu leans against the counter now, turning to face Shinsuke. He looks between the book and his lover’s face. “ya believe that crap?”
Shinsuke’s smile grows wider despite him not looking away from the book, “Wouldn’t know. ’ve barely started ta read.”
Osamu clicks his tongue in disgust, “Don’t tell me yer actually gonna read that?”
“It’s a gift,” Shinsuke replies evenly.
“Well, ‘Tsumu sent us fox covered bed sheets and that hasn’t seen the light ‘f day since we opened it.”
Shinsuke chuckles now, setting the book on the counter to face Osamu directly. “I don’t know why ya hate it so much.”
Osamu sneers at the book, “We don’t need a book ta tell us how to live our lives.”
For a moment Shinsuke stares at Osamu, his smile fading.
Hands go up to his cheeks, “What’s this about?”
Osamu stares back at Shinsuke. He sees himself in Shinsuke’s brown eyes. He sees the way that it reflects the gold of the rice fields. He sees the way the reds, oranges, and purples reflect in Shinsuke’s eyes when the sun rises and sets. He sees the ways waves fall and rise in a continuous cycle in Shinsuke’s eyes. And he feels.
He feels it in the ways that they wake up together when they can. When they have phone calls when they can’t. He feels it in the way that he cleans Shinsuke’s rice until the water runs near clear. He feels it in the way he fills the donabe with rice and water. The way the rice steams to perfection. He feels it when the scent of freshly cooked rice fills the air. The way that he fluffs it for consumption.
It melts in his mouth and goes down smooth like it was never there in the first place. Something as simple as breathing.
Osamu takes a deep breath, pushing his face deeper into Shinsuke’s grip.
“I love ya,” Osamu says in a near whisper, his irritation and aggravation gone.
Shinsuke smiles again, “I love ya’ too.”
Osamu pulls Shinsuke’s in by the waist, draping himself over his shorter lover.
Because if there’s anything Osamu knows about Kita Shinsuke is that he doesn’t sugar-coat anything – he says what he means and nothing else.