Archive of Our Own ^beta

Atsumu has done his fair share of pissing Osamu — and everyone else around him — off over the years.

Yeah, Osamu can't help but think his brother is an absolute fucking asshole sometimes, but he'd always just attributed the way he felt to the very normal sibling rivalry they experience on a daily basis. It had just been his competitiveness fueled by his brother, he tells himself — nothing more, nothing less.

So then why does it make him feel so much worse than he thinks it should?

───

It starts sometime before junior high, maybe a year prior.

Osamu would have described life at the time to be 'pretty mundane.' Sure, he had his friends and his brother to entertain him and irritate the ever living shit out of him, respectively, most days, and there was the buzzing excitement and tension of preparing for high school that seemed to electrify the air all around him, but his general routine was rather bland: wake up, eat, go to school, eat, attend volleyball practice, eat, go home, eat, shower, eat, go to sleep. Repeat.

Of course, he'd occasionally indulge in one or two extra plates of food than he should if he was feeling particularly wild that day. Exciting. (To him, it very much was).

Osamu didn't think he'd ever forget the day he heard 'the news' for a long time, not because it had been exceptionally thrilling or anything — he was hardly even paying attention when it was first being relayed to him and his brother —, but it was, in every way, a deviation from the tedium of daily life he was so used to. A breath of fresh air, he might have even described it as. And, well, there were other reasons as to why he wouldn't forget, but he won’t come to realize this for a long while.

"There's a new family moving in just a few doors down," his mom had said one early Saturday morning. Osamu, entirely preoccupied and infatuated with his plate of breakfast, only grunted in response, the words going in one ear and out the other, while his brother beside him dramatically stood from his seat.

"How do you know?" Atsumu asked in a rather challenging and suspicious tone for such a trivial matter.

"They've been moving furniture in for a few days now. Have you not noticed?"

There was silence for a few moments as Atsumu and his mother had a stare down — Osamu was still eating with hardly a care in the world. Then, she sighed.

"You two should go over and introduce yourselves."

"Us? Why us?" Atsumu protested. His outburst finally drew Osamu's attention away from his food and to the subject at hand. He looked at his mom, then to his brother, and back again, waiting for her to speak.

"Because I saw they have a kid about your age. And I wouldn't be surprised if they turn out to be your classmate. Would it kill you to make a new friend?"

At this point, Osamu had all the context clues he needed to formulate an opinion of his own, though he found himself right on the fence. It could be nice to have a friend in his neighbor, but he wasn't sure he'd care much if this kid turned out to be a bore — or worse, clingy and annoying.

"Yes, it would," Atsumu huffs defiantly. Osamu thought he was just being cranky — it was a weekend, after all, and he explicitly remembered from last night Atsumu declaring he would sleep in all morning to make up for staying up for who knows what reason. Osamu warned him he'd regret it without much effort, knowing his brother wouldn't listen.

Deciding that Atsumu was a lost cause, his mother turns to perhaps the more reasonable of the two.

"Osamu, why don't you stop by your favorite onigiri place and get something for our new neighbor?" she suggested, then adding, "Get yourself something, too, while you're there," as if he needed the reminder. Osamu figured this was some sort of ploy to get him more interested — it worked, of course, but he wouldn't outright admit it.

"Okay."

After a few hours of lounging around, waiting for the shop to open, Atsumu was finally starting to act more enthusiastic about 'making a new friend.' Osamu, too, had this newfound yet subtle pep in his step, though it was more driven by the food he was on his way to buy: two for the new kid and three for himself. On the trip back, he'd eaten all of his plus one. He figured the new kid wouldn't mind having just one if they didn't know the twins had meant to give them two.

"Knock," Atsumu ordered, only for Osamu to glare at him indignantly.

"You knock."

"Why me?"

"Because I bought the food."

"Yeah, an' ya' ate half of what we were going to give. Now you knock, before I—"

In the midst of Atsumu's threat, the front door swung open rather intensely, cutting him off. They both snapped their attention toward the figure, who had been gazing at the floor as they took one step forward, only to skid to a halt and stare up in surprise.

The twins met you for the first time that day.

You looked between Atsumu and Osamu, as if you could hardly believe there were two of them — Osamu could tell by the way your eyes flickered back and forth in quick succession. And plus, he was used to this sort of reaction whenever he and his brother met someone new.

"Uhhh... hi?"

"Hi," the twins replied in unison, and your eyes went wide for a second, visibly alarmed by their effortless synchronization, as if you had briefly considered whether you were seeing two where there shouldn’t be two. Osamu hardly knew what to do about how awkwardly this was turning out. He'd nearly jumped out of his skin when Atsumu nudged him, and was just about to snap at his brother before he remembered he was holding your gift. He couldn't exactly pinpoint why his palms grew clammy or why he was so on-edge all of a sudden.

Osamu wordlessly held the paper bag out to you and managed to completely forget what he had intended to say. You glanced down at the bag as if you were uncertain about what he was trying to do.

"That's for you," Atsumu jumped in, though he might have been just a little too late in saving Osamu from looking like a fool.

"Oh, thanks." You took the bag from Osamu, your hands grazing his, and peered inside — he wasn't sure why he should be feeling any sort of anticipation as he awaited your reaction. The relief he felt when your eyes immediately lit up at the sight of the onigiri was even more inexplicable. You drew your gaze back up to the twins, first at Osamu to whom you gave a smile, then to Atsumu.

“I bought it,” Osamu blurted, your eyes snapping back to him, and he didn’t have time to register what he had just done or why when Atsumu exclaimed, his voice echoing down the hallway.

“Yeah, and there was suppos’t to be two to give, but ya' ate the other one!”

Osamu gritted his teeth as you weren’t meant to know that though he supposed he sort of did this to himself. However, you merely laughed at Atsumu’s sudden explosive dialogue.

"I wasn’t gonna complain. The fact that ya' got me anything at all… You could have said nothin' at all and I would'a never known.” Osamu found himself mentally agreeing with you. “Um, ya' guys wanna come in?"

Osamu and Atsumu exchanged a glance, caught off-guard by the sudden invitation, an unspoken discussion passing between the two before you piped in again.

"Oh, uh, sorry. What're your names?"

Osamu knew there was something they were forgetting, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was until now. He wasn't sure he would invite someone in before asking for a name, but he found it amusing — and maybe a little concerning — the way you did.

"I'm 'Tsumu, this is 'Samu—"

"He means I'm Osamu, and he's Atsumu," Osamu quickly corrected, feeling his brother's glare boring holes through his skin, while your eyes darted back and forth frantically, confused by the sudden turnaround in their introduction. Osamu convinced himself he'd only wanted to give you their real names as opposed to their nicknames, but deep down, he knew (but would rather not admit) that he just wanted an excuse to draw your attention back to him, the same reason why he’d brought up being the one to buy the onigiri, he realized — and he had absolutely no explanation as to why that was so. You gazed at him for a second as you got your bearings straight before laughing, mostly to yourself.

"Uh, it’s gonna take a while for me to get it right,” you warned. “And… the similar names don’t help.”

“We get that a lot,” Atsumu sighed dramatically before Osamu could say anything, and he only got the chance after Atsumu effectively made them sound like obnoxious jerks.

“What he means to say is ‘don’t worry about it,’” Osamu reassured. You huffed through your nose in amusement, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. You’re looking directly at Osamu.

“He seems to mean a lot of things instead of just sayin' them outright,” you commented.

“Tch'yeah, for real,” Atsumu scoffed, once again cutting in before Osamu could respond. “I didn’t mean to say anything except for what I said. Honestly, ‘Samu, why’re you so concerned about the way we appear all of a sudden?” 

Osamu clenched his jaw and inwardly grimaced. He hated the way his brother worded that.

“I’m not,” Osamu defended through gritted teeth. He wasn’t sure how convincing that was, though.

“Liar.”

“Well, trust me,” you said, waving away the tension, “you guys don’t have to worry at all about the way you appear. You’ll see what I mean, probably.” Osamu, who’s relieved enough by your words to let his muscles relax, was intrigued by this. “Anyway, I'm [Y/N]. I have video games," you offered as if they needed to be coaxed into your house.

"What kind?" Atsumu asked, and Osamu rolled his eyes. There he goes again, making a bad impression, though you didn't seem to mind his rather blunt question (one that implied if your answer didn't satisfy him, he'd turn and leave). 

"Umm, a bunch… I don’t know. You guys can pick." You stepped aside for them. Atsumu marched right in like he owned the place, while Osamu forced himself to saunter a little slower to make up for how rude his brother should have appeared to you. Again, you didn't seem to mind, and you must have really meant it when you said they didn’t have to worry about how they appeared. You only stood back and watched while eating the gift they had brought you as Atsumu rummaged through your pile of video games as if the three of you hadn’t just met literally minutes ago.

Osamu found himself growing rather comfortable in your living room, quicker than he'd expected, and he'd miraculously managed to forget his brother's awful behavior in favor of his new neighbor.

Though, Osamu couldn't quite pinpoint what was so charming about you. Maybe it was the way you laughed with no restraint (and he imagined being able to hear it a few doors down from his apartment), or maybe it was your sense of humor that, although largely overlapped with Atsumu's, somehow sounded funnier coming from you. Maybe it was the way your leg violently bounced for half an hour before you finally gave in and rushed to use the bathroom, knocking a glass of juice over on the way, or maybe it was the way the batteries bounced out of the controller as you smacked it against your knee in anger and frustration before you rolled around the ground in pain (Atsumu laughed and pointed at you, Osamu just stared in disbelief and some sort of fascination), or maybe it was your bright smile and your cheerful yet easygoing disposition, or maybe—

"'Samu. 'Samu, hellooo? Mom says it's gettin' too late." Atsumu's snapping fingers broke him from his thoughts and Osamu instinctively slapped his brother's hand away from his face before he could remind himself where he was and how he was supposed to act. You just laughed at his physical reaction, and at this point he'd be stupid to think you'd find it offensive. When Atsumu shoved his phone screen that was all too bright into Osamu’s face, he couldn’t resist himself and slapped him away again before they engaged in a brief cat fight, batting at each other like felines. 

"Thanks for the food. Bye!" You waved frantically at them as they headed for the front door. Osamu paused, turning to give you what may have seemed like a half-hearted wave, but in truth conveyed his unspoken regret for having to go home so early (it was 9 PM, but he didn't think he'd mind staying until midnight or even the next morning).

Halfway back to their apartment, Atsumu gave Osamu a nudge and wiggled his eyebrows. He wasn't sure what his brother was trying to imply with his gesture, but he had a pretty good guess. He was absolutely certain he wanted to slap him across the face, though, but instead chose to shove him towards their door to hide the fact that his ears had started to burn.

Try as he might, Osamu couldn't figure out what it was about you that made him question his own sanity.

───

There is a rather intense, or maybe eager, knock on their door one Saturday morning and Atsumu violently swings it open to reveal you standing there with a blank stare, one hand behind your back while the other is holding a heavy-looking jug. Osamu peeks over Atsumu’s shoulder, and when your eyes meet his, your face lights up into a wide grin that he thinks could outshine a million suns.

“Well, hello, and good morning.” The words awkwardly tumble out of your mouth, as if you’d meant to say something entirely different, and Atsumu exchanges an inquisitive glance with Osamu. You burst out in laughter for a second before saying “I have two things.”

You stretch out your entire arm, gripping desperately to the heavy glass jug full of juice. Osamu is sure he can see your hand trembling under the weight as you’re trying so hard not to drop it and make a huge mess in their living room. “Look what I made you guys.”

Atsumu says “What’d’ja do to it?” while very pointedly eyeing it with suspicion at the same time that Osamu says “Oh, thanks,” and his expression of gratitude is completely drowned out. He has half a mind to elbow his brother in the ribs.

“Drink it an’ find out.” You extend your arm out even further as if to gesture for someone to take it. Osamu gingerly accepts it from you while Atsumu continues to gawk at it. You sigh in relief to be finally rid of it. 

“The other thing is this.” You pull your other hand from behind your back to reveal a small plastic bag with strange little orange fruits in it — three, to be exact, enough for you, Osamu, and Atsumu.

“Is that—?” Osamu starts but Atsumu interjects with an aggressive “What is that?” apparently still suspicious of the gifts you bear. 

“Habanero peppers.”

“Why?” Atsumu demands.

“So we can eat them.”

“Why?”

“Because it might be funny. We gotta do it outside though, just in case we throw up.”

Atsumu and Osamu exchange another glance, more concerned this time. 

“So? What do you guys say?” you urge, though you seem like the type of person who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Osamu isn’t too keen on making a fool of himself in front of you, because why would he want to do that in front of a new friend they had somewhat recently just made? Yeah, that’s what it is. Plus, he doesn’t think eating a hot pepper and throwing up would be the ideal bonding exercise but you and Atsumu seem to think otherwise, apparently.

“Okay, let’s go outside, then,” Atsumu orders as if it had been his idea, but you simply exclaim in celebration. 

Atsumu has disappeared already, but you remain by the door, waiting for Osamu to put the juice away in the fridge before the two of you make your way downstairs together.

“Um, thanks for the juice, by the way,” Osamu forces himself to say, though he wanted to rip his hair out for how awkward he sounded. “I’m not sure ya’ heard me over ‘Tsumu’s loud mouth.”

“Don’t worry about it. I promise I didn’t do anything to it. I would never do anything to it, ever. No, seriously, I wouldn’t.” 

Osamu, who had been focusing on where he was putting his feet down the stairs, looks up at you with a raised eyebrow. As if you can feel him looking at you, a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth and a laugh that you’d been trying to stifle escapes. He wasn’t doubting you the way Atsumu had been, and he still doesn’t doubt you, but maybe he should. 

Atsumu looks between the two of you as you emerge from the building but Osamu pretends not to notice, looking elsewhere like he’s seeing the outside for the first time in his life.

You aggressively rip the plastic bag open with both hands, sending the peppers flying to the concrete.

“Ah, shit,” you mumble, picking them up and wiping them on your shirt. “One for you,” you say, handing Atsumu his, “and one for you.” Osamu holds his hand out, and your fingers brush his palm as you give it to him. He feels his heart skip a beat and a fleeting thought wonders if you had done that on purpose, before he shoos it away.

“Wait, we’re doing this with no water?” Atsumu asks, suddenly worried when he had been so confident just a moment ago.

“Yeah. We’re, uh, rawdoggin’ it, as they say.” 

Osamu pulls a face. “I don’t think that’s… how you use that word…” 

“You’re fucking crazy,” Atsumu mutters. 

You ignore both of their comments. 

“Plus, water’s gonna make it taste worse, I think, like, more bitter or something, an’ we can do milk but we’ll definitely throw up everywhere, probably.”

“Is this supposed to be like a ‘Try Not To Drink Anything’ challenge or something?” Osamu wonders out loud. You tilt your head, pressing a finger to your chin in thought, though he’s not sure anything is actually going through your mind right now.

“Not really.” You don’t elaborate, and you give no time for the twins to question you further. “Okay, ready? Go.” You bite the pepper off of the stem without hesitation. Osamu follows your lead shortly after, but Atsumu seems to still be having some misgivings about this, pinching the stem between a finger and a thumb and holding it out and away from him like it’s a dirty sock. “Go!” you yell at Atsumu through a mouthful of habanero. Atsumu grimaces so hard Osamu thinks his face might get stuck that way. 

He pushes the pepper aside in his mouth so that he can speak clearly. “C’mon, ‘Tsumu. Don’t be a pussy.”

“I’m not—!” Atsumu starts to protest, before grunting in a way that tells Osamu he had taken the bait. He snaps his teeth around the pepper and rips it rather violently from its stem.

You continue to chew quite confidently for about fifteen seconds before the heat finally starts to kick in for you. You grip onto Osamu’s shoulder and jump up and down, though he’s not sure what that will accomplish exactly. You seem to be making a genuine effort to chew and eat the whole thing, while Atsumu was chewing so aggressively the clacking of his teeth could be heard, and Osamu was sort of just letting it sit in his mouth as he observed you and his brother. Atsumu pulls a face when he swallows the pepper, before he throws his arms in the air triumphantly, though his crimson red face with tears streaming from his eyes and clear mucus trickling from his nose is hardly the face of a victorious man.

“I win!” Atsumu announces, but he’s completely ignored, as you’re still focusing on your own pepper, while Osamu just simply wants to ignore him. 

Finally, you give in and spit out a disgusting glob of masticated habanero mixed with saliva, and you’re frantically waving your hand by your mouth. Osamu opens his mouth and lets the barely chewed up pepper roll out and fall to the ground.

“I win!” Atsumu repeats when he’s sure that he’d get everyone’s attention. You simply laugh at him.

“It wasn’t a competition.”

“Then what the hell was the point!?”

“I dunno.”

You stop bouncing on your feet when a rather hefty hiccup crawls its way up your throat. You press a curled up fist to your mouth as if you’re holding yourself back from throwing up.

“I think I need some liquid,” you say.

“This was so stupid!” Atsumu, who was already racing toward the building, calls over his shoulder.

“You agreed to it!” you retaliate. You reach down to take Osamu by the wrist, tugging him toward where Atsumu had disappeared, and his brain momentarily short circuits from this. It takes him a moment to come back to his senses and once he’s walking, you let go of him and sprint after Atsumu. A moment later, he hears bickering through the walls.

Osamu thinks to himself that there is something deeply wrong with you. That might just be exactly it.

───

“So ya' guys play ball of the volley variety?”

A few days later, Osamu and Atsumu had opted — more like Atsumu had decided and Osamu had no choice but to go along with his brother’s decision — to play outside, tossing a volleyball to each other in the parking lot. Neither of them wondered what brought you outside as well, and it would be a little odd to ask why you were here considering you lived a few apartments down from them. 

Plus, Osamu had secretly hoped you’d come out to join them sooner or later. He would have suggested the idea of dragging you out with them, but because of what Atsumu’s ambiguous gestures (that he keeps doing every time after you hang out with them) might have implied, he decided against it. Osamu didn’t want to give his brother the satisfaction of being right or ‘calling it.’ On top of that, the thought of what Atsumu’s gestures implied kind of freaked him out.

Atsumu had to think hard about your question before his face lit up. “Yes! Yes, we do do that.”

“Haha. Doodoo.”

Osamu frowned at your immature comment, albeit with a lopsided smile and an amused look on his face, while Atsumu gave out a single, loud guffaw. 

“Anyway, how did you know?” Atsumu asked, seemingly astonished, and at this point Osamu was frowning at his brother’s density.

“Wild guess,” you shrugged while pointing directly at the volleyball in Osamu’s hands.

Even though your attention was on Osamu indirectly, his palms clammed up and his breathing shallowed. A part of this was due to the fact that Osamu was trying to psyche himself up to ask you to join them. 

Humiliation stung the back of his mind as he worked up the courage to ask you in front of his brother, the slight nonchalant edge to his voice being his only shield.

“Do you want to play with us?”

“Sure!” Your response was immediate, giving no time for Atsumu to poke fun at Osamu, and he silently thanked you for it. 

Osamu grew worried about his performance in tossing the ball, but he was able to relax a little when you started going off about the muscle in your calf cramping up so bad that it violently woke you from your sleep last night, which segwayed into stories of your foot cramping whenever you went to the nearest retail corporation hypermarket discount department store, as you called it. You presented a theory on how all of this was due to your severe lack of water consumption, which prompted a complaint from Atsumu.

“All this talk of dehydration’s making me thirsty,” he whined obnoxiously. “‘Samu, go upstairs an’ get me water.”

“Hell no.”

“UGH. I’ll be right back.” And with that, he dashed up to their apartment, leaving you and Osamu by yourselves. 

Only now was Osamu painfully aware of the scorching spring sun, and he made for the shade, you following him without question. You leaned up against the wall, placing both your hands at the small of your back.

“So, you’re Osamu. He’s Atsumu,” you confirmed, and Osamu stole a glance in your direction. This made him wonder if you’d been going this whole day, and the handful of other days you’d spent with them, without knowing which one was which.

“Yeah?”

“Okay, got it. I think…” you muttered, taking a moment to work it out in your head. Then, just before the momentum of the dead-end conversation could wither away, you spoke up again. “So, what is it that ya' like about volleyball?”

Osamu, for some reason, hadn’t expected you to start asking questions about volleyball. He hastily responded without giving himself enough time to think. “It’s fun, I guess. Uh, I don’t know.”

You pause, humming in thought. “Got a favorite team?”

“Eh, not really,” he responds with a shrug, not giving it much thought, although he’s sure he could think of one if he had.

“Uhh, I’ve seen people play it at the beach, I think. Have you ever played it on the beach?”

What an odd question. “Yeah.”

“Do you like playing on the beach or on a court better?”

“Uh, I don’t really have a preference. Court, I guess, only ‘cause I’m more used to it.”

“Oh, I see.” You paused, like you’re scrambling for something more to say. “Uh, you know, I think I tried looking up the rules and how the team is organized or whatever once and I couldn’t understand it that well for some reason. What’s that all about?”

This question made Osamu think you were planning on joining the team next year or something. “Uhh, you might have a better chance asking ‘Tsumu if you’re genuinely interested. Um, it’s more of his thing, I think.”

“Oh… okay.” You sounded defeated, and just then, an alarm sounded in Osamu’s head. “Uh, sorry if I’m asking you too many questions.”

What Osamu had realized was just how disinterested he sounded. He started to worry when he thought you might have genuinely been curious about volleyball — if you were, you’d probably prefer to talk to Atsumu, and Osamu wondered if he’d stoop so low as to pretend to care more for the sport than he actually does. 

Either way, it was far too late for Osamu to apologize for it. Atsumu had returned. 

And Atsumu was right back to being the most obnoxious person Osamu had ever had the misfortune of meeting as he glanced between you and Osamu, his eyebrows raising and the corners of his lips curling up as if once again to imply something, apparently failing to pick up on the suddenly tense and awkward atmosphere. Osamu could only look away and pray that neither you nor Atsumu noticed the red tips of his burning ears.

───

And somehow, it just kept getting worse.

Growing close came with being both friends and neighbors, free of charge. You eventually learned to tell them apart. You walked with the twins to school as a trio and stuck around while they went to volleyball practice in the afternoon so that the three of you could walk home together, too. 

That meant you were present somewhere in the sidelines while Osamu tried to concentrate on practice. Tried was the keyword. And just because he tried, didn't mean he succeeded.

As a result, Osamu got hit in the face with a volleyball.

The impact seemed to have unscrambled his muddled thoughts, and in that moment of clarity, he realized that your presence during practice, albeit peripheral to practice itself, was going to be a problem.

"Hey, 'Samu, you're supposed to receive with your arms, stupid," Atsumu sneered. The look on his face made Osamu think his brother had aimed for his face on purpose.

"Shut up, idiot," he retorted elegantly, hiding his embarrassment.

When no one was looking, Osamu allowed himself a quick glance in your direction where you sat past the edge of the court, doing homework or something. He felt relieved, and then ashamed immediately afterwards. Why was he so concerned about making a fool of himself in front of you? He wasn't, he wasn't. He was worried about making a fool of himself in general.

Yeah, right, his subconscious scoffed.

Shut up, moron, he retaliated to himself.

About a week later, Atsumu hit you in the face with a volleyball.

"Shoot!" Atsumu exclaimed, censoring himself in front of the coach. "Are you okay!?”

Osamu could hardly find it odd that Atsumu was actually concerned instead of pointing and laughing, because he was too preoccupied with seeing this as an opportunity to perhaps comfort you, but most definitely to reprimand his brother and embarrass him in front of everybody. 

“Way to go, dumbass,” Osamu called, starting in your direction, but he skidded to a halt the moment he realized Atsumu, who had flashed him a subtle middle finger, was already jogging over to you.

There was this odd, sharp twinge in his chest. He didn't know what it was.

He watched from just a few meters away as Atsumu reached down to place his hands over your cheeks, angling your face upward to inspect the injury. You laughed — more like giggled — as Atsumu manhandled you despite the red mark on your face.

Osamu realized he'd never heard you laugh that way before, a sound so light, so endearing, so... cute?

Then, the laughing died down, and so did Atsumu's fussing. You stared up at the guy who'd just assaulted you with what looked to be awe shimmering in your eyes. Was that your face flushing? No, no. It was the mark the volleyball had left.

At least, that's what Osamu was trying to tell himself.

What must have only been half a second felt like an eternity. Osamu, though oblivious to it at first, found himself silently willing his brother to let you go or you to slap his hands away (he would have much preferred the latter). But you remained, gazing up at Atsumu, and Atsumu down at you.

What's this horrible feeling, this feeling that made him almost sick to his stomach, this feeling that made him resent his brother in a way he never had before, this feeling that told him there was something unspoken forming between you and Atsumu?

He had to convince himself it was just his imagination, his mind playing cruel tricks on him, forcing him to see things that weren't there. Surely, his brother's ego coupled with his passion for volleyball left no room for another person in his life.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you finally said, breaking the split-second of silence and brushing Atsumu's hands away. Only when he let it go and found himself rather lightheaded did Osamu realize he'd been holding his breath. "Thanks for physically assaulting me, though. I guess." 

“Don’t say it like that.” Atsumu’s tone and expression was solemn for a second, before you cracked a smile and the two of you shared a laugh. Osamu looked away.

He pushed the feeling down and maintained an unbothered facade for the rest of practice.

───

"Look, it's [Y/N]!"

Osamu was sure some otherworldly force had taken control of his body. There was no way he really just whipped around at the mention of your name, only to see empty sidewalks all around him.

But he did. And the immediate shame he felt afterward had nearly suffocated him.

Atsumu burst out in grating laughter like nails on a chalkboard, pointing a finger straight at Osamu's guilty figure. Osamu shoved his brother, who stumbled and almost fell when he tripped over a loose pebble. That didn't stop his laughing.

"Fuckin’ asshole," Osamu spat, pure venom lacing his voice.

"God, you do like [Y/N]!" Atsumu exclaimed just a little too loudly for Osamu's liking. "I knew it!"

"Just shut up."

"You're not denying it! It's so obvious. You get so agitated an’ shove me around to hide it, I can tell."

"I do not," Osamu lied, his worst attempt to date.

"You do so! You know how I know? 'Cause I'm intuitive like that." Atsumu tapped at his temple with his index finger, a smug look contorting his face.

"No, you're just stupid. Shut up before I push you into traffic."

Well, the secret's out. Oh, how he resented his brother for even uttering those words. Osamu had hoped he could more easily cope with the way he felt about you if they remained unspoken and unnamed. He ought to do worse than shove Atsumu around or kick him in the back of his knee.

So, I guess I 'like' [Y/N].

He had previously no intention of officially acknowledging this truth. It felt weird to finally admit it to himself.

What came next... was absolutely nothing. Osamu had, at the very least, expected Atsumu to pressure him into confessing to you, but perhaps that was just his wishful thinking (he would never admit that he hoped his brother would act as some sort of wingman).

For about a week or two after that, Osamu was paranoid — paranoid that Atsumu would tell you.

But Atsumu said nothing else about it, neither intentionally nor accidentally, almost like he completely forgot about it, though he knew it was never that simple with Atsumu. Osamu wondered why, and he even found it incredibly suspicious and quite odd, but he supposed he couldn't (and wouldn't) complain all that much.

───

Osamu couldn't decide whether he was disappointed or glad when you told the twins you were going to attend Inarizaki High, too.

Who was he kidding? Of course Osamu was glad. He was absolutely delighted. He didn't show it, though, but almost immediately regretted not looking more enthusiastic about your news — Atsumu had butted in, cheering rather joyfully, and your eyes turned to and stayed on him.

Osamu just stood aside, and he was stuck listening to yours and Atsumu's excited chatter about high school.

First year was alright, he supposed. By then, Osamu and Atsumu had decided to dye their hair. You were the first of their friends to see it, of course.

"Thank god. I can finally tell you guys apart without popping a blood vessel," you had said when you first laid eyes on their transformation. This memory wouldn't have stuck out to Osamu in his mind, if it weren't for the fact that you walked straight up to Atsumu to ruffle his artificially blonde hair.

Osamu uncharacteristically wondered what the hell he was doing wrong. Then, he mentally slapped himself and told the voice in his head to shut up. Nothing new.

The question still stuck to the back of his mind like a flea, though, playing on repeat in his mind like echoes in a chamber whenever he so much as glanced over to see you and Atsumu chatting up a storm and laughing maniacally about who knows what.

Lost in his thoughts, Osamu didn't notice how it had gone silent, and was never given the chance to as his brother trips and falls hard. Osamu's immediate reaction would have been to bark at him for being his attention-seeking, piece-of-shit self but he bites his tongue when he catches you retracting your foot.

You were laughing as Atsumu dramatically writhed in pain on the ground. Seeing how stupid his brother looked, Osamu couldn't help but crack a smile, eventually laughing along though just a little more restrained as if he was constipated or something. He certainly felt like he was.

Now, if Osamu could punch himself in the face for instinctively looking up at you, he would, but he figured that would be too obvious. But perhaps that would have been easier to deal with than when his eyes met yours. Suddenly, he was finding it hard to breathe as his heart leapt into his throat and threatened to suffocate him.

Before he could process it, Atsumu exploded and his voice sliced through his thoughts like a knife through room-temperature butter.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

"Sorry, it got too quiet."

Osamu wished the butterflies in his stomach would stop it with the thrashing. He was about to throw up.

───

As if things couldn't get any worse, his second year of high school comes around.

This year really takes the cake — in regards to Atsumu being an absolute nuisance, that is. But he's so much more — so much worse than just a mere nuisance. Osamu just couldn't think of a fitting enough title to give him at the moment. 'Fucking selfish jerkwad' came very close, though.

Osamu had predicted his second year would turn out to be less than ideal based on the rest of his first year — he got to watch you and Atsumu grow ever closer, front-row seats and all. He was always finding himself on the fence about wanting and not wanting to start shit. He couldn't afford to create a rift between himself and his brother, and he was desperate to cling on to his friendship with you. He didn’t want all of this to unravel at the seams, knowing the threads have already worn thin.

He wanted so badly to ignore it and just go about his life, though Osamu couldn't help but notice the way you looked at Atsumu. He couldn't help noticing because it was so fucking obvious. It was the same exact way that you didn't look at Osamu. 

Well, he was already this deep in how he feels for you, he should just stop beating around the bush. 

The way that you looked at Atsumu was the way Osamu wanted you to look at him. 

He wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, and he wanted to think it was just his mind playing tricks on him, making him see things that weren’t actually there. He wanted to think it was because Atsumu was louder than he was, because he showed off more than he did, drew attention to himself more.

Though, these lies could only get him so far, especially when the truth he's trying to protect himself against was mere moments from revealing itself. Well, perhaps it already had. Anyone with even an ounce of knowledge about human interactions could see clear as day what was going on between you and Atsumu. 

And there's this underlying feeling that Osamu can't quite ignore, no matter how much he tries to. The worst part is, he's not sure what to call it. It's like being competitive but it makes him feel so much worse, especially when he knows there's no chance of him winning, not with the current state of things.

Competitive — or rather, it finally hits him out of the blue, jealous. Yeah, that’s the word, that’s what this horrible, awful feeling that’s like competitiveness but makes him feel so much worse is called. Jealousy, something he’s not all too used to, mistaking it all this time for a feeling that he’s a little more familiar with.

It was pretty clear, now that Osamu knew what to call it, what it is he’s jealous about.

Atsumu has your affections, it seems, and Osamu does not. 

Yeah. Osamu immediately knows this year is going to be a bad one when, on his search for his brother to go home with, he rounds the corner of the gym to find you and Atsumu sharing what had probably meant to be a private kiss. Probably, because the two of you aren’t too out in the open, but aren’t exactly making an effort to be very hidden, either, like you two want to get caught, like you two want Osamu to find out in the worst way possible. Of course, that’s probably just his thoughts running rampant with every irrational conclusion, but almost all sense of rational thought has left Osamu’s body.

He wants to shout "Are you fucking serious?" at Atsumu but he at least has the sense not to, knowing that it could easily devolve into broken relationships all around between him and his brother and him and you in a matter of seconds.

Worst of all, even though he'd be happy to feign ignorance and pretend that none of the events in the past (that made Osamu just a little more angry than it should) had been foreshadowing this, he should have seen it coming. He really should have seen it coming. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

He wanted so much to believe he was only imagining the way you gazed at Atsumu with such adoration in your eyes. No, it was as clear as the sky was blue: you had feelings for Atsumu. This whole fucking time. That was real, as was the uncharacteristic betrayal he felt coursing through his veins.

He finally figures out what the hell he's doing wrong. He's not Atsumu, that's what's wrong.

Anyway, ‘stupid fucking selfish asshole’ seems pretty fitting right about now. Not for the simple fact that Atsumu had somehow won you over despite being the high-maintenance, obnoxious, arrogant person he is. That may have been all fine on its own, though still less than ideal for Osamu. It’s the fact that Atsumu knows. He knows Osamu has feelings for you. He was the one who had pointed it out. He was the one who had given it a name, called it what it so clearly was when Osamu was so unwilling to admit it to himself. 

Looking back, it almost seems like that had been so deliberate, so calculated that he had done so, and now he’s essentially taking any chance Osamu might have had with you away from him. Atsumu just had to have everything, didn’t he? Anything Osamu wanted, Atsumu wanted, apparently. That had always been the case, as with most siblings, but he didn’t think it would get to be this bad. 

And, above all, Osamu and Atsumu were meant to be best friends, or pretty close to it, before anyone else, even you. They were meant to tell everything to each other. He’d have thought that Atsumu would at least have the decency to disclose to Osamu about his and your relationship, but he doesn’t even tell that much. 

He feels a bit silly, like he’s being over-dramatic, something that is perhaps more characteristic of his brother, but Osamu had every reason to feel betrayed. The aftertaste in Osamu’s mouth was almost as bitter as the way he felt, bitterness so deep and poisonous he could feel it in his veins, turning his blood to toxic waste.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything. He just walks away, as he typically does whenever he's faced with some difficulty that might result in almost unbearable sorrow and misery, but it never seems to work. He feels it full force anyway, despite removing himself from the situation. He’s as miserable as he could possibly be. 

───

After the groundbreaking reveal that has all but left him in mental shambles, Osamu notices every little movement, every little detail, as much as he doesn’t want to. It had started out as shared glances between you and Atsumu that seemed to speak a thousand words, but it only ramps up from there. The way you stand too close to Atsumu, enough so that your arm touches his arm, or the way your hand would brush Atsumu’s hand so deliberately whenever he asked for something and you handed it over, the way you’d watch him while his attention is elsewhere, or the way you and Atsumu would seem to find any excuse to nudge each other — none of it escapes Osamu. 

You and Atsumu aren’t slick. It comes to a point where Osamu had started to wonder whether the two of you were doing it on purpose, flirting in front of him intentionally to piss him off.

This goes on for what feels like an eternity to Osamu and he just wants to block it all out. Despite all of this, though, he starts to notice what he thinks is an odd shift in Atsumu's and your behavior after several months, but now that he thinks about it, he can’t quite remember if it had always been this way.

It’s not that Atsumu never returns or initiates these gestures, it’s that most times, he seems to do so rather half-heartedly. You’d shoot your hand out for his, while he vaguely gestured. You’d practically hang off of him, while he would have his arm lazily draped over your shoulders. You’d scoop him up into your arms, while he hugged you from the side with one arm. The few times he’s caught you and Atsumu again, in the distance or otherwise unnoticed, you’d pucker your lips eagerly while he gave you a brief kiss before whisking away. There was this sparkle in your eyes, one that Atsumu seemed to lack most times.

Atsumu keeps you at arms length, never lets you stay close for too long, hardly even talks about you and when he does, he never talks about you like you two are dating — which is odd to Osamu, considering everything, and he’d have thought this was the perfect opportunity for Atsumu to boast about how you’ve seemingly fallen in love with him. It’s like he’s barely within your reach, enough for your fingertips to just graze him, but never within your grasp.

For a second, Osamu wants to pity you. Then, he thinks you’re just as bad as Atsumu. The bitter, pessimistic side of him thinks this.

Yet, something tells him it's not as simple as that, no matter how much he tries to convince himself otherwise. 

The not-so-subtle displays of affection start to lessen until they’re far and few between by the end of their second year as you eventually start to back off, like you’ve realized something, like you’re starting to give up, even losing the sparkle in your eyes at some point. Until they stop altogether.

Atsumu seems unbothered, like he has hardly even noticed, going about his life, pouring all of his energy and attention into volleyball practice. 

You don’t even come around anymore. You don’t join them in going to school in the mornings, nor do you wait for them at practice and go home with them afterward like you used to, when everything seemed so simple. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought you were trying to avoid them altogether.

───

There’s an unexpected knock on Osamu’s door one weekend, one that’s been pretty uneventful thus far. He doesn’t remember inviting anyone over, and no one is home who could have had some event planned at their apartment.

When he opens the door, he’s surprised, almost paralyzed with confusion, to see you standing there. Osamu can’t recall the last time you’d hung out with him and his brother, let alone come around to their house, off the top of his head. When he remembers to stop gawking at you, he steps aside to let you in and close the door behind you, all of this taking place in a suddenly tense, wordless, even suffocating atmosphere. He watches you tread almost warily, like you’ve never stepped foot in this house once in your life, and he’s not sure what to make of that. You stand there in the living room, and Osamu is thinking about what you could possibly be here for. Certainly not him. It makes more sense in his head that you’ve come to rekindle your relationship with Atsumu or whatever, who is currently nowhere to be found, and he wonders if you’re aware of this.

"'Tsumu's not here," he says, the words seemingly tumbling out on their own in place of a proper, more polite greeting, bordering on a Freudian slip.

You gaze at him, your face momentarily devoid of expression. "I'm… I’m not here for Atsumu."

Osamu's pessimistic mind immediately kicks in to assume the worst — you turn to him because he's the spitting image of his brother. He should think this would finally be his opportunity, his ‘turn,’ if the thought hadn’t disgusted him as much as it does, the feeling washing over him without warning like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep him off his feet.

Before Osamu can say anything, you cut in, your face twisting with confusion and a hint of something else, like you’d just been accused of a crime. “What do you mean ‘Atsumu’s not here?’” There’s a slight incendiary edge to your voice that tells him you didn’t like how he had greeted you and what his words may have implied.

“Well,” Osamu starts, and every alarm is going off in his head not to proceed with what he’s about to say, though he can’t seem to hear them at the moment, “whatever it is about ‘Tsumu… you’re not going to find in me.”

“What— What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not here to be his replacement just because he got bored of you. Just, don’t bother if you’re just gonna use me as a second choice or whatever.” Stop. Just stop talking. You’re making everything worse. 

Your face falls, scowling at his words, and when Osamu returns to his senses, he instantly regrets letting his bitterness take control and talk for him. So much for being desperate to cling on to his friendship with you.

“Is— Is that what you think?” You’re starting to raise your voice now. “You think— You think I came here to use you? That I’m just coming to you as a last resort? You seriously think I’m here to— to do something like that?” There’s a split-second moment of silence that Osamu’s response is supposed to fill, but he’s at a sudden loss for words, when just moments ago he had apparently been so willing to cause the worst possible argument that could have happened. “Is that it!?”

“N-No, I—”

“Well that’s just the thing, isn’t it?” 

Osamu starts to panic. You’ve always been known to spark vicious arguments because you thought it was just the funniest thing in the world, but there had always been an underlying playfulness to each and every one of them. He hadn’t thought this was one of them, not after such an awful thing he’d just accused you of. He’d be stupid to think so. But your anger had shocked him, even if it was to be expected. You are entirely pissed off, not a hint of the usual humor or lightheartedness that was always in your voice that he’s used to. All of it, gone, and he wonders if he will ever get to hear it again after this.

“Ya' wanna know something?” He’s not given time to brace himself, and barely enough time to think that he’s not sure he does. “I like you, Osamu. I’ve always liked you. This whole time. Crazy, right?”

“Wait—” 

“But you know what? You— You didn’t seem like you were interested.” 

Well, he hadn’t been expecting any of that. This brings everything to a standstill, and Osamu can feel his world crashing down around him. He could barely register what he had heard, something he thought he would never hear as long as he lived. You. You’ve liked him this whole time. And now he’s gone and fucked it all up, all because he lost control and gave in to his deepseated bitterness for a few seconds. That’s really all it took, was a few seconds of losing his composure, because he had assumed the worst. Everything had just so quickly gone wrong. He thinks he’d have been better off not knowing at this point.

Without missing a beat, you continue on your tirade. “And that would’ve been, like, whatever, you know? You couldn’t help it if you didn’t like me, but why am I now the bad guy? It’s— It’s not my fault.” Osamu thinks he hears your voice break like you’re about to cry. His finger twitches and he wants so much to reach out and comfort you, but the tense atmosphere which seems to buzz and crackle with electricity has him paralyzed in his spot, and he’s not sure he wants to risk feeling hurt if you batted him away, even if he probably has no right to feel that way. 

He does, however, feel bad, so very bad. It really isn’t your fault. He can remember all the times he’s ever acted aloof or distant to the point you seemed defeated so painfully clear like they had just happened yesterday, partially due to the fact that he’s spent a lot of time ruminating on them, and the memories sting to think about.

You bury your face in your hands in some sort of frustration. Your voice sounds almost feeble from the way it's muffled by your palms. “It’s not my fault. I’m not like this. I’m not the bad guy.” Osamu’s image of you had always been this dopey, happy-go-lucky person who found everything a little too hilarious and lived life dramatically. He has never thought that you were incapable of feeling the way you do now, but it’s never crossed his mind either, because he’s never really had a reason to think about it, and it makes him want to reevaluate everything he knows about you. Osamu wonders what you’ve been bottling up in all the years he’s known you, how much you fail to mention when you were laughing and talking and yelling up a storm in the presence of him and his brother.

You release your face so that he can hear you more clearly now. “And— and, you know, it never really seemed to matter, you know? I felt bad at first, when I still had feelings for you while Atsumu and I were—” you cut yourself off like you had just realized something, and your voice lowers ever so slightly. “God, we weren’t even dating.”

It clicks in Osamu’s head, or at least he can take a guess as to why Atsumu perhaps never disclosed to him about his and your relationship. The two of you had not been dating this whole time despite what he had believed, and perhaps ‘friends with benefits’ may not have been too easy to explain, nor would it have sounded too good, especially to Osamu. He certainly would have preferred not to hear it. And he didn’t think it was such a complicated affair to explain, but considering the circumstances, considering the fact that Atsumu was well aware of how Osamu felt about you, he’s sure it would have put his brother in a less than ideal situation.

And there had been a brief flash of relief upon discovering this, but it’s gone in a matter of seconds. It had taken his bitterness with it, but the feeling of betrayal coupled with regret still remained deep in his chest. He’d ought to feel more elated from all this information, but how could he, after everything? He could imagine his heart soaring had he heard your confession several years earlier, but those days have long since passed. Plus, he didn’t think now is the time nor does he have any right to be feeling any sort of sense of relief. It seems pointless now, especially after what he had said to you. He’s not sure he could ever gain or even deserves your forgiveness.

“I realized I shouldn’t even feel bad because he never even really seemed to like me all that much, anyway. At first, I thought he did, but— but I was just some— some, god, I don’t know, some thing he could go to whenever he was bored. And then I felt like shit for not caring that I still liked you while Atsumu and I were… whatever we were, ‘cause— ‘cause I felt like… like— like I was…” Osamu thinks he knows the exact word you’re looking for, and he knows how desperately you’re trying to avoid using that word, “like I wasn’t being fully committed… like my heart wasn’t really in it or whatever. But, you know, it didn’t even matter ‘cause we— we weren’t even dating. This whole time, he probably didn’t even like me.”

The disappointment and guilt from your words wash over him, and Osamu doesn’t know what to say. He thinks maybe he shouldn’t say anything. You seem like you need to get all of this out, and who was he to interrupt? He can hardly keep up anyway as you jump around the subject, reminiscent of the way you used to tell him your ridiculous stories, except you're missing the big, bright grin that he’d give anything to see right now.

“But why does it matter, right? Why should I be upset that he didn’t even like me when I liked you, anyway? But you— you always seemed so— so disinterested, so, like, you know, naturally I— I gravitated toward Atsumu. Not on purpose. It just sort of happened. And… and when I realized you didn't like me, I… I don’t know what happened. One day, Atsumu just, I don’t know… He made me think that… I thought that he liked me, and I figured, you know, what’s the harm in trying? Well, apparently, there’s a lot of harm in trying.”

Osamu had never thought of his brother as a cruel person. Arrogant and obnoxious, sure, but not cruel. As it stands, he has no idea what Atsumu’s side of the story is but he’s inclined to believe that he had seized the opportunity to swoop in and replace him when you were under the impression that Osamu harbored no feelings for you. In the end, his inflated sense of ego as well as his dedication to volleyball truly left no room for another person. And the fact that you had been careful not to directly put the blame on Osamu while insisting it wasn’t your fault, he wonders if, in your mind, you viewed Atsumu as being at fault. Perhaps not. Perhaps you’re not trying to blame anyone, but Osamu knows he’d be ready to blame his brother in an instant, even if deep down he understands that a part of this was on him, too, and as much he hates to think about it while you’re in such a vulnerable state, you as well. He supposes that everyone involved is at fault, and no one was absolved of the role they had played in this miserable game, intentional or otherwise.

“I guess he really did get bored of me, huh?” Your single laugh is so bitter he can almost taste it. Osamu feels something in his chest wrench rather painfully as he’s reminded of what he had said to you earlier that started this whole thing in the first place.

“I— I didn’t—”

“God, I feel so stupid. I’m so fucking stupid.”

Osamu wants to think there’s still time, still a chance to mend things, but he doesn’t know how to move forward. He doesn’t really think it’s his place or even the right time to suggest the two of you could still try at this point, that it’s not too late, that you and Osamu could fix things seeing as how he still had feelings for you, and by the way you had worded things, you still had feelings for him (really, he’s only guessing, but he finds himself too afraid to ask, fearing what the answer might be). He’s not sure if there will ever be a right time after all that has happened, and quite frankly, he’s scared to even suggest it, and he’s scared to hear what you might say to this suggestion. 

“I’m sorry.” Osamu almost chokes on the words like he’s not used to saying them in this way, because he’s not, and especially not to you. There had never really been a reason to in the past.  “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it, I just…” His words trail off when he realizes he really has no excuse. What is he supposed to say? That he had been so viciously jealous of Atsumu’s relationship with you for the better part of his high school years? That on particularly bad days when the jealousy seemed to take the form of a neurotoxin, he would (quite dramatically) rue the day he’d ever met you? That he had thought on many occasions that you were just as bad as Atsumu? “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

For a moment when you look up and his gaze meets yours, he can feel his heart leap in his chest the way it had the very first time he laid his eyes on you, despite this sort of one-sided argument, despite everything. Osamu doesn’t think he really ever had a doubt but this moment makes him very aware of the fact that his feelings for you have never faded. His eyes are stinging and it’s hard to breathe, and it takes every bit of self control he has left not to start bawling when the two of you draw in to close the gap. His arms pull you flush against his body the way yours do to his, and when you lay your face against his shoulder, he presses his cheek to the side of your head, muttering a stream of apologies into your ear. 

He tries not to let this moment give him any sort of hope, and he tries not to think of this as a sign that you’d be willing to start over. He’s sure you had simply needed some sort of physical comfort to ease the pain, just as much as he needed it. Your fingers cling to his shirt almost desperately the way he does to yours, and he accidentally lets himself indulge in the possibility that you don’t want to let go of him as much as he doesn’t want to let go of you. Osamu closes his eyes and wants to savor the moment, to hold you the way he’s never got the chance to hold you before, and he doesn’t even want to think that it had taken such awful circumstances to get to this point. He sighs deeply, hating to think he’ll have to let go sooner or later. 

You’re the first to pull away, though your hand has somehow ended up in his, lingering for a moment, and your thumb runs over the back of his hand in a way that lights his heart aflame, before slipping out of his grasp. The air that immediately rushes in to fill the space you had just occupied chills him to the bone.

“Is… is there any way we can move forward from this…?” Osamu tries despite his doubts, but it comes out in a weaker voice than he had intended. He can feel his stomach twisting and his blood running cold in anticipation, but when he sees your face fall, he already has an idea as to what your response will be, and instead forces himself to accept it.

“I don’t know… I— I need some time.”

Osamu wonders if he should persist, beg for your forgiveness and a chance to make things right, to redeem himself, but he doesn’t think it’s his place to do so. Perhaps you’d come to him after you’ve had some time to yourself, but perhaps not, and the thought scared him. He doesn’t want to let you go yet, to risk losing you to a stray thought that may eventually convince you that it isn’t worth it after all that has happened. Osamu doesn’t think his heart could handle anymore misery, but there is nothing else for him to do than resign. 

“Okay.”

“I just… I feel so fucking stupid. Maybe I should have tried a little harder, but I just give up too easily sometimes, and I ended up making more problems for myself. I— I don’t know. Sorry.”

“I understand.”

Osamu wants to punch himself in the face, and a little voice in his head is screaming at him. Here he goes again, appearing as if he's okay with the outcome of this, with the way this is turning out — in other words, appearing so indifferent, quite possibly the exact problem with him that had sparked this long-winded mess that spanned most of his high school years. He swallows the lump in his throat, swallows the urge to beg for you to stay. Instead, he watches as you leave through the front door with one last quick apology that practically hangs suspended in the air, and the immediate silence that follows is almost deafening. He can hear the blood roaring in his ears and the heart pounding in his chest, and it takes everything in him not to start crying right where he stands. 

Osamu looks back on his earlier years, the year before high school. Sure, those days were pretty uneventful for the most part, but he thinks he'd take those days over whatever this is. Hell, he’d even go back to the days when it was still just an unspoken thing, still a thing that he tried so hard not to admit to or even acknowledge, when your bright smile and loud voice filled his days and the only thing he had to worry about was what your next insane idea that you'd subject him and his brother to would be.

Back then, it was simply confusing. Now, it just hurts.