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If you were to ask Rintarou what his favorite part of Osamu is; he would first blush, a soft laugh escaping his lips and he would feign to be thinking hard about it.
He could say that he loves the warmth of Osamu’s arms around his torso on cold winter nights. When Rin comes home after a couple of days out for a game; Osamu hugs him not only with his body but with his soul, putting together the pieces of his heart when he’s feeling sad after a loss.
Another thing that comes to Rintarou’s mind is Osamu’s loud and obnoxious laugh whenever he hears any of Rin’s or Atsumu’s stories of the JNT’s locker rooms. But that same voice morphs into a deep cadence whenever he’s moaning Rintarou’s name while they make love.
Rintarou loves the dark grey of his eyes, as deep as stormy clouds over the ocean. The way those eyes were full of love for volleyball, that turned into love for cooking and now the only thing that Rin can see in those eyes is an unconditional love for him. The way Osamu cried of distress when his brand-new restaurant wasn’t making money; the way he cried for a very different reason when Rin answered “I do” the day of their marriage.
Osamu’s lips are so special for Rintarou; velvety and so so sweet, always with a soft aftertaste of the warm sake Osamu uses for cooking at his restaurant. That little pout Osamu makes when he misses his brother but doesn’t want to admit it. The way his mouth curves whenever he says “I love you”.
But maybe, what Rin loves the most from Osamu are his hands. Osamu’s hands are big and strong; and full of scars that tell his story. The crooked pinky he broke during his 3rd year of high school, the thin lines of the scars he got from cuts when he was learning to use the knife, the drop-shaped marks on the back of his hands, the telltale sign of the kitchen rush and hot oil in pans. Most people could say that Osamu’s hands are rough and ugly; too big and uneven.
But only Rintarou knows the softness of those hands caressing his skin or cupping his face just before Osamu kisses his lips. Rintarou knows the kindly strength in those hands that can carry either a sack of rice or a newborn kitten.
Rintarou knows every line, every crevice and scar and burn. And he kisses each one of them at night, kisses the silver band on his finger and whispers a soft “Good night, my love” just before falling asleep holding his husband’s hands.