Work Text:
- How can you tell them apart? -
It was a question that their parents had been asked most often when the twins were still in swaddling clothes, practically from the moment they came into the world.
And ‘how can you tell them apart?’ was the question they had heard most often even at the exact moment when they said they were parents of twins. From other parents at the park, during visits to the paediatrician, when registering for kindergarten, when accompanying them to their first little friends' parties...
And the two would glance at each other, puzzled but also amused, because they had never had any problem or difficulty telling them apart. And not only because of the different colour of their eyes but precisely because those two were really completely different! Not only in character but also in their facial expressions, their postures, their smiles - Atsumu's was already pandering and cocky as a child, Osamu's was rarer and much kinder, delicate, like the first flower of spring.
If, understandably, the parents had been asked that question several times when the twins were small, the same question undoubtedly came unexpectedly to Kiyoomi, Rintarou and Motoya...
It's evening and they are in Osamu's restaurant. That place which is now the alcove, the place of the heart for all five of them, not only for Osamu himself. It is the place where they can also arrive at five different times, knowing that the other four will arrive sooner or later, and that when the little bell above the front door tinkles, one will always recognise that that particular tinkling is to give notice of the arrival of one of them.
It is that moment in the twilight when the sun is about to set, that moment that marks the end of a day when one can finally catch one's breath and relax, where people become more willing even to exchange a few words, a joke with the strangers sitting next to them - Kiyoomi not, of course - that once again underlines that they are somehow accomplices of having done their duty for that day as well and that now the deserved moment to relax has arrived.
They are sitting at one of the small tables that Osamu has ventured to set up outside on that day of the first shy spring breeze. Now that the sun is setting, the five of them realise that, perhaps, sitting there still, the moment they get up they will certainly feel cold, but for now they limit themselves to digging their hands more into their jacket pockets or pulling up the zip of their jackets to below their chins.
Osamu is out with them at the moment as the customers are all served and Kojoro, his assistant cook, can now also manage very well on his own.
So they are eating their snacks and drinking their cold beer when one of the regular customers - the one who always passes by with some colleagues on his way home from the office and always brings home two onigiri with surprise fillings for his wife and daughter - goes out for a cigarette, glances at them and comes up with the fateful question.
- How can you tell them apart? -
The five stop talking and give the man a look in unison.
The question is clear, as is the fact that it was not asked in a rude tone or anything else.
- If it weren't for the colour of the hair I mean. - specifies the man, as he pulls up the lapel of his elegant jacket while holding a cigarette between his teeth - I mean: have you ever had any difficulty telling them apart? -
The twins, sitting opposite each other, cast an amused glance at each other from above the rim of the glass as they are bringing it to their lips.
Instinctively Kiyoomi and Motoya turned their attention to Rintarou who was the one, among the three, who had first met the twins. And when they had not yet changed their hair colour. When their personalities had yet to fully form and become somewhat independent of each other. Which, this, never happened completely, because it is not a figure of speech when one says that twins are as if bound by some sort of invisible thread. Also because there was no way those two could not live symbiotically.
Rintarou frowned for a second, an unmistakable sign that he was making up his mind.
From memory, even when the twins had not dyed their hair, and even as soon as they met, he never had much difficulty telling them apart. As soon as they met, as the instinctive observer that he was, it had taken him only a few glances to register many different little details. And not only physical as many different details were posed, the narrowing of their eyes, how they held their chopsticks, the way they tasted their food, how they positioned themselves on the serving line at the edge of the court.
Kiyoomi had first met Atsumu and had had to deal with him, and his then harassing as well as cumbersome presence, for several days, around the clock; so that curvature of the lips indicating brazen self-confidence, that way of changing expression abruptly, would not have confused them for anything in the world.
The same was true of Motoya. Of the two, he too had met Atsumu first and it would have been impossible for him to confuse the twins, even before he got together with Osamu and Rintarou. And what would always help him would be their different ways of smiling.
- There have always been, and still are, a lot of different things. - Rintarou eventually uttered, relaxing further in his chair and making a small, amused grin. And Motoya and Kiyoomi nod their heads in assent.
- Like what? - Atsumu starts to question him amused, then points a mock-threatening finger at him - And let it be serious, not something like I've always had a dick face. What ‘having a dick face’ means, and what it is, is a mystery. - he concludes, crossing his arms over his chest, now somewhat resentful. Which makes the others chuckle and leads Kiyoomi to reach out an arm towards him to start scratching the back of his head.
- Just look at yourself in the mirror. - is Osamu's obvious retort that earns him a middle finger from his brother.
And the three begin to list.
They tell of different ways of holding the pen, the different way of taking notes in class - Osamu practically lying on the notebook, Atsumu turned forty-five degrees to the desk -, different ways of taking a nap, of sleeping, of the little wrinkles that form around the eyes when they smile, or of that dimple in Osamu's right cheek and in Atsumu's left one, the different way of embarrassing themselves. Osamu's ears turn red while Atsumu's cheeks are irrevocably on fire. And even this detail, apparently insignificant, instead signals their way of being: Atsumu's is always over the top, a typhoon hitting you full in the face, while Osamu has always been more discreet, more on his own, the one who hardly showed his emotions in an obvious way.
- These things are fascinating - Kiyoomi points out - because homozygotic twins have the exact same chromosome set-up, the same DNA therefore. And it is the DNA that gives us the physical appearance in all its subtleties. –
- Omi put it this way, it sounds like Samu and I are an interesting example from a biology textbook. - chuckles Atsumu, as he stretches out a hand to search for his companion's.
- You are, indeed, from a biological point of view. - retorts Kiyoomi, interlacing the fingers of their hands together.
The twins look at each other. And they are sure they are thinking the same thing. That for them, as children, it was not so strange to be twins. In their logic as children, all brothers were twins, since they were twins.
Gradually, as they grew up, they realised that they were something ‘special’, ‘different’, ‘unique’. And they had made it an additional object of strength. Even though this had always meant ‘feeling’ for two, that everything - every feeling, every pain, every emotion - was amplified.
- So it is interesting to note how you also have different physical characteristics. Small things but different. - Kiyoomi concludes. And on this last comment of hers, Rintarou and Motoya's eyes instinctively searched each other and burst out laughing. Telepathy, in those five, is not just a peculiarity of twins.
- The ‘small’ is not very objective in this case, Sakusa-kun. - chuckles Rintarou and Osamu rolls his eyes, embarrassed, having already understood. And it is Rintarou, now, who gets the middle finger from his best friend, who has understood in turn.
- In one specific instance. - Motoya supports him, resting his shoulder on Osamu's left shoulder, after having sought out Rintarou's hand resting on Osamu's lap and having it entwined with his own, with that smirk that says a lot. Motoya can be a real devil!
- Eh, that (with intention) is a genetic mutation, what can I say. - concludes Kiyoomi, trying to keep a straight face because he saw Atsumu's feigned annoyed look.
- By necessity. - There goes the latter, to the joking detriment of his brother somehow. He's always given him a hard time about it in some way.
- But it is Samu who is in excess, not me who is at fault. - Atsumu makes it clear, just to save his honour. And his manhood.
- Absolutely love, take it easy. - Kiyoomi reassures him, now putting his arm around his shoulders to pull him close and place a kiss on his forehead. In a gesture that fills not only Atsumu but also his brother with love, who always loves to see how much his twin is loved by Kiyoomi, with all the love he deserves.
- I have never complained. - Kiyoomi reassures him further.
- Neither have we. - reply in chorus Rintarou and Motoya, like two good little schoolboys who don't want to be caught unprepared in class, while they tighten up even more against Osamu, who is literally on fire with embarrassment and hopes that no further questions will be asked by his client regarding further explanations.
Because it would be beyond embarrassing to have to tell why his cock now has a first and last name.
And how Mr Python lives a life of his own, the absolute protagonist of so many tales, adventures or even bedtime stories.