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The urgent whispering behind him persists throughout most of Rintarou's 3-hour lecture, sparking another wave of irritation.
He was starting to regret the decision to follow his lifelong crush to university in Canada. Or, maybe he just regrets not taking his English lessons more seriously.
He can understand enough academically of course, the school wouldn’t have accepted him otherwise, but he’s itching to know what the chatterboxes behind him are gossiping about.
The tea must be piping hot with the way they’re gasping and giggling, but their voices are too hushed and muddled and full of unfamiliar slang for him to figure out what the deal is with these Sam and Adam characters they keep mentioning.
Rintarou hates being out of the loop.
It’s nearing the end of his third lecture of the day, and the professor has long since lost his attention. He scans the room full of students hoping to spot something interesting to distract him from his unsuccessful eavesdropping.
Unfortunately, what he spots instead is an all too familiar face. In fact, it's one that’s been staring at him throughout all of his lectures today.
He breaks eye contact quickly and tries to ignore him. Rintarou can already hazard a pretty good guess at what StareMaster3000 wants from him.
Even with his weird little eyebrows, the dude looks distinctly Japanese and is likely hoping to latch onto Rintarou like a baby duckling.
Rin’s already had to gently let down a half dozen Japanese students throughout orientation, and they've all shyly approached him in the hopes of studying English together within their safe little bubble of Japanese camaraderie.
But that’s not what Rintarou is here for. He already knew he’d follow Osamu anywhere, but once he made the decision to start the next chapter of his life in Canada, there was no going back for him. He wanted to immerse himself as best he could to life in North America. There will be plenty of time for Japanese friends after he was better integrated.
When the lecture finally ends, he slips out from the back row quickly. He thinks he’s in the clear until he suddenly feels a small tap on his shoulder.
The person he was trying to avoid has materialized next to him, and his rounded eyebrows are somehow a lot more endearing up close. He’s actually kind of cute, Rintarou thinks begrudgingly.
Predictably, the guy starts with a stilted ‘sumimasen…’ and Rintarou shuts him down before he can waste his breath.
“Yes, I’m Japanese. No, I won’t teach you English,” Rintarou says tersely, praying his accent doesn’t poke through.
The guy’s eyes widen a bit in surprise and his head tilts like a puppy.
“Oh! My bad, I didn’t mean to assume you spoke— Wait, are you Asian American too? Or Canadian? I was actually really hoping to find a friend I could practice some Japanese with, but we can still be friends, you seem really cool! I mean, if you want…”
After a brief processing delay, it clicks in Rin’s brain that this guy is American, already perfectly fluent in English, and wants to learn... Japanese? That sounds like much more of a fair trade.
Rintarou switches back into Japanese to answer him. “I can help you, but I want to improve my English.”
The guy beams at him like he just won the fucking lottery, and it's rather disarming. When has anybody ever looked at Rintarou of all people like that?
“Wow, I almost never get to use my Japanese name! Call me Motoya!” He extends a hand in front of him enthusiastically. “My English name is Morgan, but some people also call me Momo.”
Rintarou’s gut clenched with anxiety. English name? Was that a thing he was supposed to have chosen? The anxiety quickly turned into cold dread; if those fucking twins had English names picked out and didn’t tell him there’d be hell to pay.
“Uhh,” he replies intelligently instead of real words. “Suna Rintarou.”
Motoya’s eyes sparkle. “Suna Rintarou,” he repeats. “That’s a great name! Should I call you Suna then?”
Hopefully he doesn’t regret letting this total stranger use the same name that so far only his closest friends and family have called him, but he knows everyone uses their first names here.
“Call me Rin.”
“Rin,” Motoya grins impossibly wider. “It’s very nice to meet you!”
Feeling emboldened by his (cute) new friend, Rintarou takes a risk.
“Hey, um, my friends are working at the Oktoberfest tent later, do you want to go with me?”
“I’d love to! Oh, is it okay if my cousin joins us too?”
Motoya gestures just behind him and Rin honest-to-god flinches in surprise.
The gloomiest aura he’s ever seen is emanating from the corner of the hallway where a massive curly-haired man is standing. He must be taller than Rintarou, but it’s hard to tell with the way he’s hunched in on himself protectively. He's dressed in all black from the tips of his Doc Martens to the mask covering his lower face, and even his eyes look inky black and full of venom as he glares at any strangers that pass by too closely.
Rintarou looks back at Motoya, whose bright and hopeful expression hasn’t faltered at all. Against his better judgment, he can’t say no to that face in good conscience.
“…Sure.”
Motoya practically jumps with joy and waves over Vampire Man.
“Kiyo! Come meet our new friend!”
Maybe he should’ve stayed in Japan after all.
Against all odds, Rintarou was really enjoying himself.
Even Kiyoomi was a lot more entertaining than he had expected; the dude was still an enigma, but Rintarou could listen to his weirdly specific hot takes for hours.
During the walk over, the three had settled into a comfortable blend of Japanese and English that felt like their own secret language.
He learned that the two cousins had moved to California when they were toddlers and had grown up together in San Francisco with annual trips back to Japan to visit relatives. He also learned they'd all played volleyball back in highschool and promised to join them for a game in the intramural rec league at the university.
He quickly observed that Kiyoomi didn’t do well with crowds or germs, but that he seemed comfortable enough in most situations as long as his emotional support cousin was around.
Motoya, he was happy to learn, was a social butterfly and seemed to know half the campus already. By the time they made their way to the event, Rin had lost count of how many people he had been introduced to and how many names he had immediately forgotten.
Luckily Rintarou was able to score them seats at the less crowded end of a long table near the kitchen where the twins would be able to stop by more easily.
While Kiyoomi is hard at work scrubbing all applicable surfaces with disinfectant wipes, Rin looks through the serving window and catches Osamu’s eye.
The smile he sends Rin’s way is enough to make his ice cold heart suddenly feel soft and squishy like the fresh-baked pretzels being pulled from the oven; the way Osamu's arms flex in their compression sleeves however, makes Rin identify a lot more with the sausages that hiss and steam on the grill instead.
“So who are your friends here, Rin?” Motoya interrupts his hopeless thirsting. “Are they from Japan too?”
Rintarou clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, we all went to high school together. I just saw one of them in the kitchen, but haven’t spotted the other twin yet.”
He scans the large venue looking for a familiar head of bleached blonde amongst the wait staff, who are all dressed in cheesy approximations of lederhosen and dirndls as they breeze down the long aisles on roller skates.
“Wait twins?! You don’t mean Sam and Adam do you? Man, everyone has been talking about them all week, I’m dying to meet these guys! One of them is in the culinary program and the other in sports medicine, right?”
"Uh..." Rintarou feels his eye twitch. He, too has been hearing the names Sam and Adam a lot. He has a heavy dreadful feeling that those traitorous bastards actually went ahead and picked new names without him.
Right on cue, Atsumu bursts through the service entrance, carrying far too many large beer mugs in each hand. Because he is clinically unable to stop being the centre of attention, he’s wearing an incredibly short German-style dress laced up in the front over a frilly white blouse. White thigh-high stockings stretch up from his skates to pull taut across his bulky quads.
He certainly looks good and Rin’s happy his friend can finally feel comfortable enough to express himself as the fruitcake he is, but he's honestly still thinking a little too hard about Osamu in his compression sleeves.
Atsumu skates smoothly over to their table and distributes three beers for them with a flourish and a bright smile.
“I didn't realize the closet you came out of belonged to some poor German girl,” Rin teases, gesturing at his get-up.
“Psshh, you wish your lanky ass could pull this off!” Atsumu snaps back.
Before he can introduce himself, Motoya jumps in.
“Oh! Are you Adam? It’s nice to finally meet you! I’m Motoya!”
“Nice to meet you, Motoya! But my name's Atsumu!” He replies with a confused head tilt before turning to Kiyoomi. “And what’s your name, handsome?”
Kiyoomi’s eyes are almost comically wide and his mouth agape, as though he’s forgotten that his mask is dangling from one ear and not hiding the lower half of his face.
“Kiyoomi,” he chokes out, so quiet that Atsumu doesn’t quite hear him.
“Omi? Cute name for a cute boy!" He flirts with a sleazy wink. "Hey, aren’t you in my Kinesiology class?”
Instead of answering, Kiyoomi suddenly grabs his beer and starts chugging it back.
“Whoa, easy!” Atsumu laughs. “Y’all are my VIPs tonight! I’ll keep the refills coming so make sure you stick around until our shifts end so we can all hang out!”
Atsumu spins around In a cheeky little twirl that makes his skirt flutter before he pushes off and glides away gracefully on one leg.
Kiyoomi slams down his half-empty beer, now sporting the remnants of a foam moustache on his upper lip.
If Kiyoomi was literally anyone else, Rin would be mocking him endlessly for the blatant heart eyes he’s making at Atsumu, but he’s still not convinced the guy won’t strangle him so long as it’s a nice clean murder.
So he simply pretends to check his phone while he sneakily snaps a couple photos. This way, he can mock him later and from a safe distance.
“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to send those to me,” Motoya leans over with a hushed whisper.
By the time Osamu and Atsumu seat themselves down on either side of the table, the rest of them have a good buzz going. Well, Motoya and Rin have a good buzz going— Kiyoomi is a hot mess.
Kiyoomi’s lustful gaze had followed Atsumu back and forth across the large hall like a cat that’s been hypnotized by a new toy. Yet whenever Atsumu had stopped by to clear their glasses and replenish their ale, Kiyoomi would huff and turn his head away rudely with a snarky comment.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, man! I had no idea people were just butchering your names like that! I’ll make sure to correct them from now on,” Motoya explains, clearly feeling guilty that the Sam and Adam in question were actually just misheard and bastardized versions of Osamu and Atsumu.
Needless to say, the two cousins were not making a strong first impression on Atsumu.
“Hmmph,” Atsumu huffs. “I’m not changing my name for anybody’s convenience.”
“That’s exactly what Kiyoomi’s always said! I’m telling you, the two of you really do have a lot in common!”
Rintarou didn’t really share Motoya’s matchmaking vision, but it was entertaining to watch Kiyoomi’s strange hot and cold act nonetheless.
“Eh, I’m good either way, whatever is easier to remember,” Osamu shrugs it off and downs a hefty pull of ale. The way he continues to top up Motoya’s plate of food does something funny to Rin’s stomach— but maybe that’s just all the sauerkraut he ate.
Kiyoomi suddenly stands up and announces he’s going to the restroom. He wobbles a little off-balance and Motoya starts to get out of his seat to assist, when Kiyoomi comes out of left field with a “help me,” directed towards Atsumu.
The rest of the table stares dumbfounded as Atsumu somehow manages to balance Kiyoomi’s tall wobbly frame while still on roller skates.
The second they’re out of earshot Motoya looks between Rintarou and Osamu with a devious glint in his eyes. Message received.
“So,” Rin voices Motoya’s thoughts. “We’re definitely setting them up, right?”
“Huh?! Doesn’t seem like Kiyoomi wants anything to do with that jackass, he’s barely said a word to him!” Osamu laughs incredulously.
“Nah dude,” Motoya chimes in. “He’s down bad.”
Osamu continues to stare at them like he’s missing something. “And you’re sure he’s not just drunk off his rocker?”
“I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that,” Motoya chokes back a giggle. “Let’s just say he’s much more honest when he's drunk.”
Rintarou’s instincts are telling him there is huge potential for entertainment in this idea.
“Well, I think it’s worth a shot. Atsumu needs someone high-maintenance, otherwise he’d get bored.”
Motoya and Rintarou both turn to Osamu for the final judgment call.
He simply shrugs in acquiescence. “Fuck it.”
The three of them immediately exchange contact info and set up a group chat for their nefarious matchmaking purposes until Atsumu’s obnoxious cackling alerts them to his and Kiyoomi’s return.
There is no physical contact between the two this time, but Atsumu is orbiting around Kiyoomi in a hypnotic interweaving of his skates that seems to have a dizzying effect on the poor guy.
“You’re like a fucking mosquito,” Kiyoomi grumbles, swatting his arms with pitifully dull reflexes.
Osamu looks like he’s eternally tired of Atsumu’s shit and waves down one of the waitstaff for a fresh round of beers. It gives Rintarou an idea.
“You said Kiyoomi was competitive, right?” He leans down to ask Motoya.
“Suuuper!”
“Excellent.”
Rintarou grabs his beer and climbs up to stand on top of the long bench. The patrons around them are already cheering excitedly. He looks down at Kiyoomi with a challenge in his eyes.
“If you can chug faster than I can, Atsumu will take you to dinner.”
“I— Wh—?!” Atsumu starts to protest before Osamu shoves a pretzel into his mouth.
The intensity in Kiyoomi’s eyes is enough to send a chill down Rintarou’s spine; he’s only ever seen that level of passion from Atsumu on the volleyball court. Huh, maybe they are a good match after all.
Kiyoomi clambers up on the bench and accepts the beer shoved into his hands by Motoya.
Osamu counts them in. “3…2…1… Go!”
Rintarou internally curses whoever the fuck decided it was a good idea to serve fresh-faced college students full 1-litre beer steins. That was a lot of liquid to choke down.
The moment he finishes, he sees that Kiyoomi’s empty glass is already raised above his head victoriously. Impressive.
The crowd around them is still going wild, but Kiyoomi stares down at Atsumu like they’re in their own little world. The tiny, precious smile that blooms on his face is far sweeter than it has any right to be given his earlier sass towards Atsumu.
Rintarou thuds back down onto the bench. Motoya and Osamu pat him on the back in consolation until the three of them freeze in horror at the scene across the table.
Kiyoomi’s eyes flutter shut and he sways dangerously atop the bench. Luckily Atsumu moves fast and catches the man in a bridal carry as he falls gracefully like a maiden from a tower.
“Uhh..” Atsumu says in shock. “Can I help you bring him home?”
Rintarou is feeling well past the point of comfortably buzzed himself, but it’s so worth it for all the blackmail footage he gets that night, as well as the chance to drape his arms around Osamu and Motoya as they all stumbled home in tandem.
For anyone else, it would’ve been a done deal: win a dinner with your crush, go to dinner with your crush, live happily ever after.
Unfortunately Kiyoomi was not anybody but himself, and that meant he was absolutely hopeless.
The shame and humiliation of his drunken rambling had meant that he now avoided Atsumu at every possible instance and lashed out in hostility when he couldn’t.
After days of careful negotiation on Motoya's part, Kiyoomi finally agreed to go to dinner with Atsumu, so long as Motoya accompanied him. Motoya then refused to be a third-wheel and invited Rintarou and Osamu along to turn the date into a low-pressure group hangout.
Except, nobody had told Atsumu that his reservation for 2 had turned into a reservation for 5.
That’s how Rintarou, Motoya, and Osamu ended up here: about 3 tables over from Atsumu and Kiyoomi. They weren't close enough to really intervene, but just close enough to overhear some of their louder dialogue.
Dialogue which was sounding less and less amicable by the second.
“The fuck did you just say to me?!”
“I said you need to find a new hairdresser, your hair looks damaged and poorly toned.”
“I do my own hair!”
“Ah, that explains it then.”
Motoya’s face was in his palms and Osamu was practically wheezing with laughter. Kiyoomi did have a point though, Rintarou had always thought Atsumu’s blonde dye job looked a little too brassy for his skin tone.
But, hair aside, Rintarou had to admit Atsumu had excellent taste. His first date outfit was on point and the Italian restaurant he’d selected was incredible.
Rin savours another stolen bite of Osamu’s risotto.
“Mmmm, the food is so good here!” Motoya raves.
Osamu seems to brighten up a bit at how cute Motoya looks with his cheeks stuffed full, and Rintarou really can’t blame him.
“I’d be happy to feed you sometime, yknow cooking is kinda my whole thing.”
Is Osamu flirting?! Rin feels a confusing tug in his gut that he hopes isn’t from the clams in his seafood linguine.
A reasonable person might back off in this situation and let them have their moment— but Rin never claimed to be reasonable.
“Oi, how come you never offer to cook for me?”
The warmth in Osamu’s eyes surprisingly doesn’t falter for even a moment when he looks back at Rin with a smile.
“Didn’t think I needed to, you seem comfortable enough stealing straight off my plate.”
Motoya looks between the two of them with absolutely no subtlety in a way that makes Rintarou feel flustered and exposed.
“What?” He snaps at Motoya.
“You two are fun. I’d love it if you cooked for us, Osamu! I’d also love it if there was less of… that… next time,” Motoya’s eyes flit back to Atsumu and Kiyoomi’s table.
Kiyoomi is drinking wine straight from the bottle and Atsumu’s hands are dancing around him wildly trying to stop him without actually touching the man.
The three of them wince in sympathy before Osamu breaks their silence.
“Do you think we have time for dessert before they get kicked out?”
“He better not be here or I will never forgive you for this,” Kiyoomi threatens Motoya for the fifth time since they’ve arrived at the roller rink parking lot.
His pride had suffered near-fatal wounds last week when they’d been asked to leave the restaurant and Kiyoomi had cried into Atsumu’s shoulder the whole ride home about how beautiful he was.
Rintarou can’t believe he ever thought Kiyoomi was intimidating— he's simply a fussy guy with a big fat crush that he’s too socially anxious to act on without drinking his face off.
“And just because none of you value your ankles doesn’t mean I’m willing to put on those... those rolling death traps!”
The roller rink ambush was actually Osamu’s idea. He figured that after the dinner date fiasco Atsumu might like a chance to get to know one another on more familiar territory. And perhaps more importantly, they needed to meet somewhere that didn’t serve alcohol.
Rintarou wasn’t sure what kind of tricks Motoya pulled to get Kiyoomi to the rink, but once he saw the sign, he stubbornly stuck his heels down and refused to enter the building.
“We’ll make sure your skates are properly fitted and tied,” Osamu reassures him. “You can even wear protective gear, it's perfectly safe.”
Kiyoomi’s scowl deepens and he looks like he’s about to retort until they hear a familiar voice.
“Omi-omi!” Atsumu exclaims in surprise. “I didn’t know the whole crew was joining today!”
Atsumu bounds towards them in another ridiculous skating outfit. The soft pastels of his cropped hoodie and flowy skirt make him look far too cute for someone of his size and stature. Another pair of thigh high stocking rise up to meet the athletic shorts under his skirt, leaving only a small patch of exposed skin.
Kiyoomi really needs to learn some discretion because Atsumu’s eyes are most certainly not where Kiyoomi is looking while the scowl melts off his face as though it were never there in the first place.
“Teach me,” Kiyoomi grunts out.
“We’ve never skated before so we thought it’d be fun to come learn from the pros!” Motoya jumps in smoothly before Kiyoomi can self-destruct.
“And even Rin’s joining us on this auspicious day!” Osamu teases with a smirk so sharp it pierces Rin’s heart. There’s not even any questionable food to blame it on this time.
“Yeah, yeah, can’t let you guys have all the fun,” he replies halfheartedly.
Fuck, why hadn’t he roller skated with Osamu before? Until Motoya came along, he was content hiding behind the flimsy excuse of not wanting to intrude on their ‘twin time’, but if he was really being honest with himself those twins had more than enough time together. Maybe Rin’s just been scared to make a fool of himself.
The squad make their way inside and after thorough coaxing from Atsumu, Kiyoomi is laced up in his skates and covered in full protective gear.
Atsumu helps Kiyoomi waddle over to the rink’s entry point, a small ledge between the flamboyantly patterned carpet and the perfectly polished laminate.
Kiyoomi’s gloved hands with wrist guards have Atsumu’s forearms in a death grip.
“Do not let go of me!”
“I won’t let go until you’re ready, promise, but it’ll be easier if you grab onto the wall too, that’s what it’s there for.”
It’s almost heart-warming how gently and patiently Atsumu leads Kiyoomi.
As soon as they’re off to the side, Osamu turns around and takes Motoya and Rintarou’s hands in his own and steps backward into the rink like it’s no big deal at all.
“Alright, keep your knees bent, and your toes out, little ducklings!” Osamu reminds them of his prior instructions.
Rintarou thanks his lucky stars that he doesn’t immediately fall on his ass, but it’s little consolation for the indignity of hobbling back and forth like he’s just shat his pants.
Alongside him, Motoya is V-stepping in a comically deep squat with a look of utmost concentration on his face and Rin’s self-consciousness is quickly replaced by a spark of competition. Motoya’s earnest attempts make him want to give this a genuine effort too.
The two of them waddle around until they start to get a good feel for it and Osamu eventually lets go of their hands and continues to skate backwards ahead of them to supervise as they make their way around the rink.
Even after they’ve completed a full lap, Atsumu and Kiyoomi are still exactly where they started, with Kiyoomi stubbornly refusing to let go of Atsumu or the wall.
Time to get that stubborn bastard out of his head again, Rintarou decides.
“Oi, twins! We want a demonstration!”
Rintarou and Motoya shuffle closer to the wall to stay out of the way. They barely choke back their laughter at Kiyoomi’s look of betrayal when Atsumu pries his hand away to leave him clutching at the wall.
Just like that, the twins take off, chasing one another around in alarmingly fast loops to warm up. Soon, they’re twisting and turning around each other with a practised ease that captures the attention of everyone in the rink.
Atsumu, ever the show off, checks over his shoulder with each wide backwards arc, crossing one skate over the other and pushing off into a series of dizzying spins. He side-surfs and dips and maneuvers himself in ways that shouldn’t be possible on wheels. Rintarou genuinely had no idea rollerskating could look so similar to figure skating, but Atsumu looks like he’d be right at home both on the ice and under the spotlight.
Osamu, on the other hand, is less flashy but makes it look so easy with the way he effortlessly balances on his toes, changes directions at the drop of a hat, and shifts his weight back and forth in a smooth grapevine.
“Roller skating is… kinda hot,” Motoya stutters out next to him in awe.
Rintarou nods his head in agreement and quickly snaps his mouth shut— he’s not sure at what point it had even fallen open.
Suddenly, Atsumu skates head-on towards Kiyoomi, crouching low and looking like he’s going to collide with the wall until the last second where he jumps in the blink of an eye and slides into the splits. Since when could he do that?!
The motivation seems to have worked on Kiyoomi, who looks like there are stars in his eyes. He takes one hand off the wall and tries for a couple shaky steps forward towards Atsumu.
Rin watches him like a car crash in slow motion as he tries and fails to keep his balance, falling straight onto his ass. He splays out on the ground in utter defeat and Atsumu scuttles to his side to help him up.
Osamu circles back to Motoya and Rintarou, crouching low on one leg with the other extended forward.
“Hey, here’s an easy one you two can try when you’re ready, it’s called Shoot The Duck!”
Rintarou continues to focus on turning each shaky step into a longer stride and finds it’s actually getting a lot easier, and he’s having a lot of fun. Osamu is a great teacher and Motoya is improving quickly enough to give Rin a good challenge.
Before much longer, Rin attempts his first Shoot The Duck and successfully rolls ahead on one leg feeling a rush of accomplishment. He didn’t put much thought into standing back up unfortunately, resulting in his first tumble of the day and what’s sure to be a gnarly tailbone bruise.
Osamu materializes in front of him to help with up with a solid grip.
“All part of the process,” he smiles warmly.
Their attention is stolen by a shrill screech from Kiyoomi. It looks like Atsumu must’ve given the poor man a break and decided to let him get a feel for skating in a different way.
Kiyoomi’s lanky arms are holding onto Atsumu’s waist and he’s being pulled along behind him like his own personal sled dog.
“Ooh! That looks like fun! Me too, me too!” Motoya calls out to Osamu gleefully.
It seems Osamu can’t say no to Motoya either, Rintarou notices fondly.
“You wanna join the train too?” Osamu raises an eyebrow at Rin.
“Why the hell not.”
There’s truly something special about Motoya that’s brought out a playful side to Rintarou that he never knew he had. The Rintarou of a month ago would’ve never subjected himself to the inherent humiliation of publicly learning a new skill, or taken advantage of his own personal chef the way Motoya already has.
It’s like the sparks that have long since flown between Osamu and Rintarou were simply waiting for Motoya to add the kindling before they could catch, and now the three of them were well on track to being set ablaze.
These feelings are novel and frightening for Rintarou, who has no idea how such an unconventional relationship is even possible, but for now he sets the thoughts aside in order to enjoy this time with his two favourite people.
He grips Osamu’s waist and waits for Motoya to grip his own before they take off.
Osamu drags the two grown-ass men behind him like it’s nothing, and Motoya squeals with glee.
“Oi! Get back here!” Atsumu yells when Osamu passes him and Kiyoomi by.
“Not a chance, scrub!” Osamu calls back, pulling ahead even further.
For one fleeting moment, Rintarou wonders how they’re going to get out of this posture without all falling over, considering his legs may as well be jelly at this point, but once again decides that right now it doesn’t matter.
He sticks his tongue out at an indignant Atsumu and throws his head back with laughter.
Everything had changed since that day they went roller skating.
Apparently, Kiyoomi had started showing up at the rink, poorly disguised in his typical all-black attire (complete with mask, sunglasses, and hat) in order to watch Atsumu practice.
The owners of the rink, finding his behaviour (rightfully) suspicious, were about to kick him out until Atsumu vouched for him, thus effectively blowing his cover.
Luckily, that particular day had been a couples event, and the slow waltzes and ballroom dances on wheels were enticing and intimate enough for Kiyoomi to want to try skating again. With Atsumu’s stable arms leading them and twirling him around, the tiny seedling of Kiyoomi’s confidence finally began to take root and grow.
Rintarou and Motoya even put their detective caps on to do a deep dive into Atsumu and Kiyoomi’s social media pages. As if simultaneous location tags from trendy cafés and late-night library haunts weren’t enough of a giveaway, they also found a suspiciously Kiyoomi-shaped elbow poking out from the edge of one of Atsumu’s gym thirst traps.
Comfortably reassured that his big baby bird of a cousin had finally left the metaphorical nest, Motoya took a lot more initiative with making plans for 3 instead of 5.
Whenever they weren’t occupied with their studies, Osamu, Motoya, and Rin were having dinners together, watching movies, roasting Atsumu and Kiyoomi, and sometimes even stargazing on secluded campus rooftops.
The uncertainty of their relationship continued to gnaw at Rintarou.
He and Osamu had always had something special and unspoken, carefully treading along a razor-thin tightrope.
Then along came Motoya, who took one look at their delicate balancing act and unceremoniously cut the wire.
“We should all date each other,” he says out of the blue one day, right in the middle of brunch.
“We basically already are,” Osamu replies with equal nonchalance.
Rintarou can hardly hear them over the sudden ringing in his ears. Is he dreaming? Is this an elaborate prank? Did they all stay up too late binge-watching horror movies last night and now he’s developing hallucinations?
Looking across the table at his two favourite people, he finds nothing but warmth and affection in both their expressions.
If this is a dream then he may as well make it a good one.
“I’d really like that.”
They all seem to collectively hold their breaths for a moment as the implications sink in.
“So… can we, like, kiss now?” Motoya scurries around the table to sit next to the other two.
After a few nervous glances, they all slowly lean in close and meet in the middle for a three-way kiss that is, frankly, a little bit squishy and ridiculous.
The tension breaks and they all burst into laughter.
“Maybe we should take turns?” Rintarou suggests.
Motoya drags them both over to the couch and seats himself atop both Rin and Osamu’s laps.
“I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” Osamu breathes against Motoya’s neck. Rin takes the chance to kiss Motoya properly this time, gripping onto Osamu’s hair as he does.
Just when things start getting more heated, the incessant buzzing of Osamu’s phone startles them. They all try and pretend not to hear it, but the vibrations start up again, and again, and again.
“That fucker,” Osamu grumbles. “Rin, can you grab it?”
Rintarou reaches for the phone on the coffee table and sees that it’s a video call from Atsumu. With a sly grin, he answers, making sure all three of them are visible on camera, tangled on top of each other with flushed faces.
Atsumu’s blaring voice pierces the quiet room.
“GUESS WHO’S DATING THE PRETTIEST, PRICKLIEST BOY IN THE— WHAT THE FUCK?!
On the screen, Atsumu and Kiyoomi appear to be shirtless and snuggling in bed together with matching expressions of horror on their faces.
In perfect unison, Rintarou, Osamu, and Motoya breathe out a sigh of relief. “Finally!”