Work Text:
The hall was alive with laughter, clinking glasses, and soft music that underscored the hum of conversation. Fairy lights strung across the ceiling cast a warm glow over the room, and the scent of flowers filled the air. It was a beautiful scene, and Osamu hated every second of it.
Not because he wasn’t happy for Atsumu — of course he was. His twin deserved the happiness that radiated from him like sunlight as he stood at the head of the room, hand clasped tightly in Suna’s. Atsumu had never looked more like himself, his grin wide and his cheeks flushed with joy.
No, Osamu wasn’t mad. He was terrified.
Because in just a few minutes, the room would fall silent, and every pair of eyes would turn to him. And he’d have to stand up, push past the nervous knot twisting in his gut, and deliver the speech he’d written and rewritten in his head a thousand times.
The speech he wasn’t sure he could actually give.
“You’re looking pale, Samu,” Aran said, sliding into the seat beside him. “Y’okay?”
Osamu tore his eyes away from Atsumu and Suna, forcing a smile that felt paper-thin. “Just fine, Aran. Thanks fer askin’.”
Aran snorted, clearly unconvinced. “You’re sweating like it’s summer in the middle of January. You sure you don’t need a bucket or somethin’?”
Osamu shot him a glare, though it lacked its usual heat. “I don’t need a damn bucket.”
“You’re up next,” Aran said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Better start breathing before you pass out.”
Osamu’s stomach lurched, but before he could retort, the soft chime of a glass being tapped echoed through the room. The crowd quieted, their attention shifting to the center of the table, where Atsumu’s wide-eyed grin was locked on Osamu.
“Yer up, Samu!” Atsumu called, his voice brimming with excitement.
Osamu swallowed hard, the knot in his stomach tightening. His chair scraped against the floor as he stood, his legs feeling like jelly beneath him.
He could do this. He had to do this. For his brother.
The walk to the microphone felt like an eternity, but when Osamu reached it, he paused, took a deep breath, and looked out at the crowd. His eyes caught Atsumu’s, and for a moment, the noise of the room faded. His twin gave him a small, encouraging nod, and Osamu’s heart steadied.
He glanced at Suna, who stood beside Atsumu, his expression calm but warm. The sight of them together — Atsumu’s hand still tightly held in Suna’s — grounded him.
Osamu cleared his throat, his voice unsteady as he began.
“Good evenin’, everyone. For those of ya who don’t know me, I’m Osamu Miya, the less dramatic half of the Miya twins.”
A ripple of laughter broke through the tension, and Osamu’s lips quirked into a faint smile.
“I’ll be honest,” he continued, shifting on his feet, “when Tsumu told me he was gettin’ married, I wasn’t sure what t’think. Not ‘cause I wasn’t happy for him — I was — but because, well… this is a moment I’ve been scared of since we were kids.”
Atsumu’s brow furrowed slightly, confusion flickering across his face. Osamu took another deep breath, his hands gripping the edge of the podium.
“See, growin’ up, it was just the two of us. We fought a lot, sure, but we always had each other. And I always felt this need t’protect him. From himself, from the world, from… bad decisions.” He paused, his gaze flicking to their mother, who sat quietly near the back of the room.
“I was scared Tsumu would end up like our Ma,” he said softly, the words heavy but honest. “Marry the wrong person. Live in fear. Get hurt by someone who didn’t know how t’love him the way he deserved.”
The room was silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Atsumu’s expression had softened, his grip on Suna’s hand tightening.
“But then he met Suna,” Osamu said, his voice warming.
He looked at Suna then, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. “At first, I thought he was borin’— sorry, Suna. Yer quiet and reserved, and Tsumu’s… well, not. I didn’t think it’d work.”
A few chuckles rippled through the crowd, and even Suna smirked.
“But then I watched ya. I watched the way ya looked at Atsumu, like he was the most important thing in the world. The way ya always managed t’be gentle with him, even when he was drivin’ ya crazy. The way yer mood always seemed to lift when he was around. And I realized somethin’.”
Osamu’s voice wavered slightly, but he pressed on. “I realized I could trust ya with him. That no matter what, ya wouldn’t hurt him. That you’d love him the way he deserved to be loved.”
He paused, his throat tight. Atsumu’s eyes were glassy now, his free hand covering his mouth as he listened.
“But now,” Osamu continued, his voice cracking slightly, “my reasoning for bein’ scared has changed. It isn’t about protectin’ him from the world anymore. It’s about me.”
The room was quiet again, the weight of his words palpable.
“I’m scared t’lose my best friend,” Osamu admitted, his gaze locked on Atsumu. “We’ve been through everythin’ together, Tsumu. I can’t remember a time when ya weren’t right there beside me, even when we wanted t’rip each other’s heads off. And now… now yer startin’ a new chapter, and I’m so damn happy fer ya, but I’d be lyin’ if I said it didn’t hurt.”
Atsumu’s face crumpled, and Osamu had to look away, his own throat burning with unshed tears.
“But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that yer in good hands. And that’s all I ever wanted for ya.”
He took a shaky breath, his grip on the podium tightening.
“Suna, I hope ya enjoy growin’ old with Atsumu as much as I enjoyed growin’ up with him.”
The room erupted in applause, but Osamu barely noticed. He stepped back from the microphone, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing.
Atsumu was in front of him before he could move, pulling him into a tight hug.
“Yer such an idiot,” Atsumu whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But I love ya.”
Osamu huffed out a laugh, his arms wrapping around his twin. “Love ya too, dumbass.”
Suna joined them a moment later, his usual calm expression softened with gratitude. He held out a hand to Osamu, and for the first time, Osamu didn’t hesitate.
“Thank you,” Suna said simply, his voice low and sincere.
Osamu nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Take care of him, yeah?”
“Always,” Suna replied, his grip firm.
And the night carried on. Osamu found himself relaxing for the first time in hours. The knot in his stomach had eased, and though the ache in his chest lingered, it was a bittersweet reminder of just how much his twin meant to him.
And as he watched Atsumu and Suna share their first dance, their laughter mingling with the soft melody of the music, Osamu realized something.
He wasn’t losing his best friend. He was gaining the peace of knowing that Atsumu would always be loved, whether he was around or not.
Osamu stayed seated at his table, watching Atsumu twirl Suna across the dance floor with all the grace of a baby giraffe on a slippery patch of ice. The sight earned a small chuckle from Osamu despite himself. Atsumu’s face was flushed with happiness, and even Suna — stoic, unfazed Suna — was smiling openly as he let Atsumu lead him into another exaggerated spin.
Aran sat back down beside him, setting a fresh glass of whiskey in front of Osamu. “You’re holding up better than I thought you would.”
Osamu gave him a look. “Thanks fer the vote of confidence.”
Aran shrugged, grinning. “Hey, you didn’t cry. That’s somethinh.”
“Almost did,” Osamu muttered, taking a long sip of the whiskey. “But I wasn’t about t’give Tsumu the satisfaction.”
“Sure,” Aran said, his tone laced with amusement. “Whatever you gotta tell yourself.”
Osamu rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. His gaze drifted back to the dance floor, where Atsumu and Suna had pulled Makki and Mattsun into their chaotic display. It was loud, messy, and entirely Atsumu.
“You’re really proud of him, huh?” Aran asked after a moment, his voice quieter.
Osamu didn’t answer right away. He watched as Atsumu threw his head back in laughter, his grin brighter than any of the lights strung above them.
“Yeah,” Osamu said finally, his voice soft. “I am.”
Aran smiled knowingly. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t think there’s anyone else who could’ve kept up with him the way Suna does.”
Osamu huffed a quiet laugh. “Ain’t that the truth.”
The music shifted to something slower, and Atsumu immediately tugged Suna close, swaying with him in a way that was uncharacteristically gentle. Osamu felt a pang in his chest, but it wasn’t the sharp ache he’d carried earlier. It was something softer now, a bittersweet mixture of loss and contentment.
Aran leaned back in his chair, his gaze following Osamu’s. “So what’s next for you?”
Osamu raised an eyebrow. “What d’ya mean?”
“Well,” Aran said, gesturing vaguely. “Your brother’s off starting his new life. Guess that means it’s time for you to focus on your own, doesn’t it?”
Osamu frowned, his drink halfway to his lips. He hadn’t really thought about it. So much of his life had been intertwined with Atsumu’s — through volleyball, through his business, through simply being brothers — that the idea of focusing on himself felt foreign.
But as he watched Atsumu press a kiss to Suna’s temple, a thought began to take root in his mind.
Maybe it was time.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, dancing, and more speeches that ranged from heartfelt to embarrassing. Atsumu cried during Makki’s toast, which was more of a roast, and Suna looked about ready to flee when Mattsun handed him a framed photo of Atsumu as a toddler covered head to toe in mud that their mother had helped him obtain.
But through it all, Osamu felt a strange sense of peace settling over him.
As the night wound down and the guests very slowly began to filter out, Atsumu found his way back to Osamu. His tie was loose around his neck, his hair a mess from Suna’s absentminded fingers. He plopped into the seat beside Osamu with a tired but satisfied sigh.
“Ya holdin’ up, Samu?” Atsumu asked, his voice soft.
Osamu gave him a side-eye. “Shouldn’t I be askin’ you that? Yer the one who cried over Makki’s dumb toast.”
“Shut up,” Atsumu muttered, his cheeks flushing. “It was sentimental!”
“Sure it was,” Osamu said, smirking.
They sat in silence for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background.
“Thanks,” Atsumu said suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Osamu turned to look at him, his brow furrowing. “Fer what?”
Atsumu shrugged, his gaze fixed on the empty glass in front of him. “For always lookin’ out fer me. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”
Osamu’s chest tightened, but he kept his tone light. “Who said ya deserved it now?”
Atsumu let out a quiet laugh, his grin softening. “Guess I didn’t.”
Osamu sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Yer an idiot, Tsumu. But yer my idiot. Always will be.”
Atsumu looked at him then, his eyes shining with something Osamu couldn’t quite name. “Love ya, Samu.”
“Love ya too, dumbass,” Osamu replied, his voice steady.
And as Atsumu stood and rejoined Suna, pulling him into another ridiculous dance, Osamu allowed himself to smile.
He didn’t know what the future held — for himself, for Atsumu, for any of them. But for the first time in a long time, he felt ready to face it.
Because no matter where life took them, he knew one thing for certain.
Atsumu was in good hands.
And as “your brother’s off starting his new life. Guess that means it’s time for you to focus on your own, doesn’t it?” rung through his head, he pulled out his phone, and dialed Akaashi’s number for the first time in months.